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aflame4goinghome · 23 days

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Bad Reputation

s.f.k. x reader

chapter two

Word Count: 7.4k

Chapter Warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking (marijuana), flirting, a little bit of arguing, lots of sexual tension, slow burnnnn so no smut... yet ;)

A/N: Hi guys! Welcome to chapter two! I'm excited to continue this little story for you all. I hope you don't hate me too much for the slow burn ;) Things will really start to heat up once tour starts up, so stay tuned hehe. See ya soon

Listen to the playlist here :)

chapter one

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

You step off the stage after another successful gig and quickly retreat to the dressing room for a moment to freshen up before heading out for a few drinks. Unfortunately for you, tonight’s celebrations, along with every celebration from now on, will be quite different due to the required presence of a certain bassist. Jodie thought it would be a good idea for Sam to attend all your gigs, to make your relationship more believable as you started “launching” it to the public.

You were reluctant at first, but at the end of the day, it didn’t feel like that big of a deal. You didn’t have to be glued to his side the entire night or anything, or at least you hoped not. Nonetheless, you knew he was waiting out there for you, and you knew that he had come alone, which made it even worse. At least if Danny or someone had come along, you’d have some sort of buffer, but no– it was just the two of you. Lucy wasn’t even on shift tonight either, having taken the weekend off to go home and visit her family.

It’s only been just over a week since you agreed to this deal with Sam, and it was already exhausting you. You honestly haven’t even spoken to him since that day, since both of you have been swamped with rehearsals, but Jodie reached out and let you know that he’d be there. You were hoping that he had forgotten, but when you saw him in his usual corner booth during your set, you realized you had gotten your hopes up too high.

“Whatever! I’m strong, and I’m confident, and I don’t care,” you say to yourself in the mirror as you touch up your makeup briefly. The pep talk wasn’t really working though. “What’s there to be afraid of, anyway? He’s just a guy!”

“I’m a man, for the record,” you hear a smug voice say from behind you. God-fucking-damnit. “A damn good-looking one, at that.”

“Samuel, what are you doing back here? I was coming out any second now, you couldn’t wait?” you say, scoffing to yourself as you put your makeup back in your bag and turn to him.

You’re actually surprised to see that he dressed rather nicely tonight. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans, paired with a red button-up with the sleeves rolled up. He had the top two buttons undone, but that was the most of it– not nearly as low-cut as Jake would do.

“What, your boyfriend isn’t allowed to come see you after a show?” he asks sarcastically, leaning against the doorframe.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Sam– not actually. Nobody’s watching us back here,” you scowl, slinging your tote over your shoulder and walking to the door. You walk right past him and b-line it toward the bar.

“Seeing us come out together will help us look more like a couple, obviously,” he says smugly. “Come on, Y/N, I thought you had some wits about you.” You stop in your tracks and turn over your shoulder to glare at him. You take a deep breath before feeling calm enough to reply.

“Fine, whatever. Let’s just go,” you mutter, turning to walk toward the bar again. That was the closest that you could ever get to telling him he was right. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you suppose that it wouldn’t be bad for your image if you walked out together.

“Seb, double rum and coke, please,” you say, trying to brush off your frustration by faking a smile. Sebastian nods and then his eyes drift behind you for a moment. You nearly forgot, honestly. “Oh, and uh– whatever he wants, I guess,” you add, nodding to the tall “man” behind you.

“PBR,” Sam says behind you, and Seb turns to grab a can from the fridge and open it for him. He places both of your drinks on the counter with a sympathetic smile and then adds it to your tab.

Without saying anything else, you just turn to retreat to the corner booth, sliding in first. As you situate yourself, you’re startled by Sam sliding in to sit next to you on the same side of the booth.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask accusingly. Sam rolls his eyes, taking a swig of his beer before turning his body toward you, his long legs stretched out underneath the table.

“Sweetheart, no one is gonna believe we’re together if we sit as far away from each other as possible,” he answers bluntly. “You have to at least look like you like me and enjoy my presence.”

“It’s harder than you think,” you mumble under your breath, looking down at the drink in your hand atop the table. “But fine.”

“Second time I’m right tonight, y’know. Do I get a prize?” he says with a smirk. You find yourself stifling a laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s funny.

“Is the company of a talented pianist not enough?” you say, your lips turning upward slightly into a smile, subtle but still there. A chuckle leaves his mouth, which surprises you. You never expected him to laugh at your jokes before.

“I suppose it is, you’re one lucky lady, Y/N,” he says smugly. Damnit.

“Careful, Samuel. For a moment there, I almost thought you were complimenting me,” you warn with a smirk, taking a sip of your drink. Another laugh erupts from the man sitting next to you.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just dying for that, aren’t you?” he says, his tone bordering on teasing.

“For you to compliment me? Please. I don’t need you for that when I can easily find it elsewhere,” you bite back.

“Well, I don’t see any takers,” he remarks, looking around the room sarcastically. “Seems like you’re stuck with just me. Good luck getting any attention now, with me around.” You don’t even grace him with a reply after that one, just taking a long sip of your drink before putting it down on the table and turning your attention to the next act on stage.

He lets the silence stay, looking to the stage as well as his arm extends to sit behind you atop the back of the booth. As his arm moves behind you, you’re met with a quick waft of his cologne, smelling strongly of spearmint and pine. You’d be kidding yourself if you didn’t admit that the scent almost sent your eyes rolling in the back of your head, intoxicating you. But you quickly shake it off.

“So… you guys will be going back on tour soon, yeah?” you ask, trying to fill the silence and save yourself from feeling awkward. He turns toward you, keeping his arm behind you as his fingers graze your bare shoulder.

“Yeah! We’re heading back out in a few weeks, we’re still trying to get more studio time in so that we can finally start the masters on our next project,” he answers proudly. You knew he was passionate about the music, it was something you respected about him.

“That’s great. From what I heard in the studio the other day, you guys have something really amazing going on there. I really liked the blues roots in some of them, I caught it almost immediately,” you say with a soft smile. Maybe talking to him wasn’t as bad as you might’ve thought.

“See, thank you! Josh hates those bits– says they’re sonically boring. I completely disagree, obviously,” he says, a smile growing across his face. Despite hating to admit it, the two of you had aligning interests when it came to music, that much was clear.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about! My favorite part was your transition from E major to C sharp minor, in that second song you guys played. It was so satisfying, that’s one of the best key changes in my opinion,” you say, starting to rant but catching yourself. You start to apologize for rambling but the smile on his face tells you that you don’t need to.

“I’m glad you caught that, no one else ever pays attention to stuff like that. I swear sometimes it feels like I’m all alone there, their minds just don’t work the same as mine,” he says, his smile widening as his thumb rubs softly on your shoulder.

“Well, I understand. It’s not exactly the same, but Lucy never gets it when I ramble on about music theory. As a writer, music is like a whole other language to her. I’ve never had anyone to really talk to about music before,” you admit with a shrug, looking over at him.

“Maybe we’ve found that in each other, then,” he says quietly, running his tongue along his bottom lip as your eyes watch carefully. You nod slowly, not sure what else to say. You’re not sure when you let yourself get so distracted, but you couldn’t help it. The proximity made your mind so foggy that you couldn’t think about much else.

All of a sudden, your attention is pulled away from your phone buzzing on the table. You pick it up to read the text you just received, which you see is from Jodie.

Jodie: Fans have already spotted you both out at the club! Some pics are already circling Twitter, look!

She attached screenshots of some tweets that have already been posted, questioning who you are and what you’re doing with Sam. The pictures show the two of you sitting close together, Sam’s arm wrapped around you as the two of you are smiling and laughing.

OMG, who is that with Sam???

He has his arm around her, look!

God, I’m so jealous.

They’re sitting awfully close to be just friends!

You have to admit that the two of you did look good together. You managed to make it seem casual and natural, which was good. To have the fans already buzzing about it was a good sign. After you finish reading the tweets, you hand your phone to Sam so that he can take a look.

“I swear, our fans know no boundaries. Who just takes a picture of someone who’s out minding their own business? Pisses me off,” he scoffs, handing you your phone back as he shakes his head, looking around to see if he can catch anyone looking.

“I know. But at least we have their attention, right? The seeds have certainly been planted. Now we just need to figure out some sort of hard launch,” you answer optimistically, hoping that he’s not too angry. He doesn’t seem to be, since his smile still hasn’t completely faded just yet.

“We look kinda good together there, don’t you think?” you joke, pulling up the picture again. You hear him laugh next to you, shaking his head as he looks down at your phone over your shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess we do,” he admits softly. You almost didn’t realize how close he had gotten, to the point where you could feel his warm breath against your ear. You try not to think about the it too much, with the fear of blush creeping over your cheeks.

“Wanna really give them something to post about?” he whispers with a smirk, his voice against the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spine. Leave it to Sam to ruin the moment with relentless flirting once again. You turn your head to face him and realize that he’s much closer than you originally thought. Your nose brushes against his as your eyes lock. You clear your throat, trying to seem unaffected.

“As much as I’m sure you’d love that, I don’t think we need to rush all of that so soon,” you say softly, a twinge of sarcasm dripping from your voice. You watch as his smirk widens.

“Fine, you can be boring,” he says smugly, leaning back against the seat. “But I at least want to give them something interesting to talk about. Who cares if we’re just sitting and talking? Everyone does that, we could at least do something a little creative.” It truly was a performance after all. You just hum as a reply, not wanting to perpetuate the argument any further.

“Here,” he speaks again as his other hand moves to grasp your thigh, pulling your legs to rest slightly on his lap. His hand still lingers on your thigh, grasping firmly on your thigh right below the hem of your leather skirt.

“What’re you doing?” you say, in almost a whisper. His boldness has taken you aback, and you hesitate to fight back in that moment. The feeling of his large, callused hand on your skin clouded your brain so much that you almost thought you might like it.

“Giving them a show,” he smirks, turning to make sure people are looking before turning back to look at you. You couldn’t hide the flush of your cheeks now even if you wanted to. It didn’t take long for him to notice. “Am I getting you all hot and bothered, sweetheart? Is that it?” he asks with a smug grin, his hand moving an inch up your thigh as the other ghosts over your bare shoulder again.

“Pshh– what? No. No. That’s ridiculous,” you answer, obviously flustered.

“Just admit that you like it,” he says, leaning down to close more space between you. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Yeah, right. He’d never let you live it down if you even gave an inkling that you were enjoying this. You’d never give him that satisfaction. You clear your throat, inching away from him.

“Wanna get another round?” you ask, trying to change the subject, but he doesn’t budge.

“Answer my question,” he says assertively, his fingers playing with the hem of your skirt teasingly. You breathe out a deep breath, but keep your eyes on his. He’s searching them, waiting for any hint of you giving in, but finds nothing.

“What would you do if my answer was yes? What then?” you ask, your voice breathy and quiet. His lips quirk slightly as he looks down at you.

“You don’t have to play these games to get my attention, y’know. You already have it,” he whispers, his nose brushing past yours. That’s it, you can’t do this anymore.

“Okay, I need a smoke. Let me out?” you ask, still backing away slowly with the hopes that he’d stand up and let you out of the booth. An annoyed sigh leaves his mouth as he complies, getting up from his seat.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, clearly not asking. You just roll your eyes and nod, walking out to the front of the club. Leaning against the front of the building, you reach into your tote and pull out your lighter and the blunt that you had rolled earlier that day. Given the stress from the evening, you thanked your earlier self for thinking of it.

Placing it between your lips, you quickly light it, taking a drag before lowering it to your side. You take a moment to look over at Sam, who’s looking down at you as he leans his side against the wall. Feeling like you were being slightly greedy, you decide to offer him a hit, which he gladly accepts.

“Didn’t take you for the stoner type,” he says casually, taking another hit before passing it back to you.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sam,” you answer, raising an eyebrow at him as you take a long drag. You watch as his eyes flicker to your lips for a moment there. You knew what he was thinking. If you were crossed enough, you thought you honestly might let him. But not just yet.

“I’m starting to see that… I guess if I want to know anything about you, I’ll have to work for it, yeah?” he says with a shrug. That was exactly what you were going to say next– that he had to work for it. You hated that he could read you like that. Maybe you were more predictable than you thought.

“I suppose so. You should stop while you’re ahead though, I won’t give in that easily,” you tease, taking another hit as you look up at him, trying to read his expression. The weed is already mixing perfectly with the liquor in your system. Your head felt lighter already.

“I’m not afraid of you, sweetheart. And I don’t go down without a fight,” he says with a smirk, leaning toward you slightly. He towered over you, which felt slightly intimidating. You couldn’t really read him well, either, which made it even more difficult.

“What do you wanna know?” you ask, taking a hit and blowing it out of the side of your mouth.

“Where are you from?” he asks, taking the blunt in his fingers as you pass it.

“Here,” you answer bluntly, watching his lips purse as he takes a drag. It was way hotter than you expected it to be. “Well, not here exactly. I grew up in a town like, thirty minutes away. But I’ve been coming to Nashville all my life.”

“I see,” he says, a small smile on his face. You didn’t ask him where he was from– you already knew the answer, and he knew that. “Did you always know that you wanted to play music?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I started playing piano at 6, joined the jazz band in middle school, and it all just kind of grew from there. My high school band director is the one who set me up with my first ever paid gig, when I was 17. After that, I knew this was what I needed to do.” You can tell that he’s trying to hide his smile, but it’s not working. He was impressed by you, and for some reason, you liked that.

“I did jazz band too, amongst other things. It was honestly a great start on music theory, learning about chord progressions and improvisation and stuff like that,” he says with a shrug, passing your blunt back to you.

“Yeah, I agree. You learn a lot of important stuff there,” you reply, taking a hit. It was nice to have someone to talk music with, even if it was Sam. He knew what he was talking about, and it felt like he understood you. That’s not an easy feat.

“Have you ever been in love?’ he asks, looking down at you. You expected to find a smirk on his face, but there wasn’t one there.

“That’s a loaded question,” you joke, taking another hit as you try to think of what the hell to even say to that. “I don’t think I have, to be honest. There were times when I thought I was, but looking back…” you trail off. “Have you?”

“No,” he shakes his head, taking the blunt from your fingers and taking a hit. “Nothing ever stuck. Not sure why.” Surely you had a couple of good guesses, but you wouldn’t dare to say any now. The topic was somewhat vulnerable, which you didn’t expect from him. Why did he want to know this about you? You’re gonna take a mental note to ask about it another day when you’re both much more sober.

Some time passes, as the two of you share the blunt in silence. Near the end of it, you pass him the blunt and let him finish it off, watching him flick the butt onto the sidewalk and stomp it out. He doesn’t make a move to go inside, however, but instead moves closer to you. As you look up at him, your mind starts to spin as his head reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb smoothes over your cheekbone, the rough callus on it sending shockwaves throughout your body. You’re not sure why you don’t pull away, even when his face starts getting closer and closer to yours.

“Don’t run away this time,” he whispers, his nose brushing against yours as your eyes travel to his lips. They looked soft and full, and you started to wonder if they would feel warm against yours. You knew you probably wouldn’t have to wonder much longer. For some reason, you didn’t want to run away. No, you wanted to stay. Something inside you wanted to know if you’d feel something– anything.

Your eyes lock with his as his other hand finds its place on your waist, tugging you toward him slightly. You search his eyes, seeing if you could read his mind. What was going through it? You knew he’d been persistent with you before, but why did this feel different somehow? You let your nose brush against his again, as you feel his breath hot against your lips.

“Sam!” you hear someone exclaim from behind you, causing you to jump from the brash noise.

“We’ll finish this later,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. You suck in a deep breath then quickly pull away, leaving at least a foot between you two as a girl approaches you– seemingly a fan. Sam puts on a brave face, smiling softly as he talks to her. He was gracious and kind, despite being visibly frustrated.

“Do you… want me to take your picture?” you ask softly, to which she nods feverishly. After snapping a few photos on her phone, you hand it back to her with a shy smile.

“So, who’s this?” she asks, turning to Sam. God, she was nosy. All the fans were, clearly. What did she care? Why would she need to know who Sam was spending his time with? Your angry internal rant comes to a full stop as Sam wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into him.

“Actually, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” he says proudly, his grip soft but strong on my side. You offer her a soft smile as her face lights up, and you know this will be plastered all over the internet by tomorrow. You suppose that was the whole point, though. This was bound to happen eventually, you just didn’t expect it to be on your first night out. You thought you’d have more time to prepare.

Luckily for you both, this girl was way too drunk to bother asking too many other questions. Soon enough, she says her goodbyes and swiftly leaves. You breathe out a sigh of relief, laying your back against the wall once more.

“Fuck, that was exhausting. How do you do that all the time?’ I ask jokingly, rubbing my temples. He lets out a soft laugh, which makes your lips turn upward into a smile almost immediately.

“It’s not always that bad. Usually, they refrain from personal questions like that… sorry. I know I kinda put you on the spot there,” he offers genuinely, which you accept.

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know it would happen. I just wish I was more prepared– I mean, we don’t even have our backstory together or anything! We haven’t discussed any of the details at all,” you say, slightly exasperated. Another laugh leaves his lips. You think to yourself that you quite liked being the person who makes him laugh.

“Right, well I guess we’ll just have to figure that out then. We’ll need to be prepared, now that everyone is going to know,” he says. “How about we meet up for coffee on Monday and set all the details straight? That sound good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod with a small smile. “I can do that.”

“Great, I’ll text you the details tomorrow then,” he says, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He sees the time and his eyes shoot open, not realizing how late it's gotten. “Shit, it got late on us. Can I call you a cab?” he asks, looking up from his phone to look at you.

“Oh, no that’s not necessary. I only live around the corner, I’ll walk,” you insist, though you’re surprised he cares that much. It was a side of him that you had yet to see.

“Then I’ll walk you home,” he says, not even letting you answer before starting to walk off. How he knew what direction it was in, you weren’t sure. You suppose he’s seen you leave that way before and leave it at that.

Soon enough, you’re both stopped in front of your apartment building. It seems like you’re both unsure of how to say goodbye, considering the nature of your “relationship” was such a gray area. You knew he was about to kiss you earlier, and you knew that you were going to let him, but you’ve sobered up slightly now. It wasn’t a good idea.

“Goodnight, Sam,” you say softly, just choosing to back away without a proper goodbye in favor of avoiding any more awkwardness between the two of you.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he says, offering you a soft smile as he shoots you a wink. You watch as he turns to leave and walks back toward the bar to catch his Uber home. As he turns the corner, you quickly turn around and retreat inside, hurrying to your apartment before finally entering your bedroom. You lean your back against the door and sink to the floor, your mind slightly boggled by the entire evening.

You have to admit that you ended up enjoying his company. The teasing was still excessive and he was arrogant, but there were times when this different guy shone through the cracks. You wanted to know that guy.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

As you’re sitting on your balcony on Sunday afternoon, enjoying the sunny weather with an iced coffee and a book in hand, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You slide a bookmark onto the page and shut the book, setting it down on your table next to your coffee before reaching into your back pocket to pull out your phone.

Sam: We still on for tomorrow?

You hum to yourself, checking your calendar quickly to make sure you don’t have anything else going on. You thought that he might have forgotten about your plans to meet up tomorrow, since it was already well into the afternoon and you hadn’t heard from him. But you suppose he isn’t one to rise early, as Danny told you last week. You typically weren’t either, but today was an exception.

You: Yeah, whenever works best for you. We could meet at the coffee shop across the street from Seb’s?

That place was your usual haunt, the baristas all knew your name by now. It was helpful for hangovers, so you always came in the morning after a night out and it soon became a habit. You knew Sam didn’t live in Midtown, but maybe he wouldn’t mind coming down.

Sam: Sounds good, meet at 2 pm? I’ve got a short meeting with the guys in the morning.

You: Yeah, that’s good. See ya then.

He doesn’t respond from there, so you just leave it at that. You never took him for much of a texter, so you didn’t read too much into it. You slide your phone back into your pocket and open your book back up, picking up where you left off.

Just as you were getting back in the groove of the story, you heard your apartment door close behind you. You turn around to see Lucy coming in from her weekend with her parents. She spots you outside and walks over, sliding the glass door open.

“Hi, love,” she says, coming outside and sitting on the chair opposite you.

“Hey, Luce. How was your weekend?” you ask, still keeping your eyes on your book.

“It was good! Tommy had his graduation ceremony this weekend, so there was a big party,” she answers with a smile. Tommy is her younger brother, who’s just graduated high school. You never knew him well, since their age gap was so big, but he was a sweet kid.

“That sounds nice!” you say, offering her a soft smile.

“How was yours? Anything interesting happen?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at you. She knows something.

“What did you see?” you ask bluntly, getting right to the point. A chuckle leaves her lips as she smiles at you.

“Oh, nothing. Just saw a few pictures of you and a certain rockstar cuddled up at Seb’s last night, plastered all over their update accounts on Instagram,” she says with a smug smile.

“Why on Earth do you follow their update accounts, you weirdo!” you say, barely getting the sentence out before you both erupt into laughter.

“When you told me you’d be pretending to date him, I went and followed some of them! I knew you were bound to make it on there eventually and I wanted to see my best friend become famous!” she exclaims, pulling her phone out to show you the posts. There were photos of you both in your booth and standing outside the club. You did look rather close.

“I am not becoming famous. It’s just a couple of photos,” you say curtly. “And he might have told a fan I was his girlfriend,” you mumble at the end, hoping she didn’t hear.

“He what?” she yells, and your hand shoots to cover her mouth with a giggle.

“Shhh, shut up, the neighbors already think we’re crazy,” you laugh, taking your hand away after a moment. “It’s not a big deal. We knew he’d have to make it official eventually. We’re meeting up tomorrow to get our story together and stuff, so that we know what to tell the fans in case we get asked anything on the spot.”

“Wow, you guys are moving fast,” she teases. She had no idea. You were tempted to tell her about the kiss you almost shared the night before, but inevitably you decide not to. Talking about it will just complicate things even more.

“Whatever. He’s actually not that bad at times– but don’t tell him I said that,” you say with a small smile across your lips. “We just have more in common than I expected.”

“I’ve been telling you that for months, Y/N,” she says sarcastically, getting up from her chair. “I’m gonna go rot in bed for a while, talk to you later.”

“Okay, have fun,” you say, your smile widening as you wave her off and then open your book back up again.

You really couldn’t stay concentrated on reading today, it seems. You try your best to refocus, and you eventually do, reading until the sun starts to go down. Soon enough, you retreat to bed, getting an early rest before your coffee “date” with Sam tomorrow. That should be… interesting, to say the least.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

As you try and get ready to go the next afternoon, you’re completely stuck on what to wear. What does someone wear to a coffee date with their fake boyfriend to discuss the terms of their fake relationship? God, even phrasing that question made your head spin. You tried asking Lucy for advice but she was no help, just resorting to light teasing and not giving any actual suggestions.

“Why do you care what you wear? It’s not like he’s your actual boyfriend,” she said with a smug smile. You didn’t grace her with a reply, opting just to shut the door in her face and turn back to your closet.

You sigh to yourself before sifting through your clothes, pulling out a white linen button-up shirt. You decide to just go with a black tank top, with the white shirt on top, left unbuttoned. The weather was quite warm with the summer heat really starting to settle in. You throw on a pair of jean shorts, slip on your low-top white vans, and then throw your things into your tote bag before heading out the door. It was only a few minutes before 2 at this point, but you didn’t want to arrive too early. You assumed he’d be late himself, anyway.

As you turn the corner and cross the street, you see him sitting at a small table out front. Damn, guess you were wrong. Again.

“Sam,” you greet quietly as he stands up from the table.

“Nice of you to finally show up, Y/N. Was starting to think you stood me up,” he says with a smirk, opening the door for you.

“Shut up, I’m two minutes late,” you answer with a scoff, getting in line to order a drink. He stands next to you, leaning against the counter. You decide to stand in silence until after you place your order since your bickering wasn’t really the best idea in public. You order a chai tea latte and Sam just gets an americano, and the two of you find a table in the corner while you wait.

“So, let’s get started then, shall we?” Sam says, leaning back in his chair. “Where’d we meet?” Your lips quirked upward into a smile.

“Okay, getting right to the point, I see,” I joke, folding my hands and placing them on the table. “Well, that one’s easy. We met at the club. We’ll just say that you came to some of my gigs and just liked me sooo much that you had to say hi,” I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at the absurdity of it all. You watch as a chuckle leaves his mouth, and there goes that feeling again.

“Alright, sure,” he laughs as a barista comes to put our drinks on the table. “Thanks,” he says to them, taking a sip of his drink before turning back to you. “And we can say we started seeing each other… when? Maybe March?”

“Yeah, that sounds fine,” you shrug, taking a sip of your chai. “That won’t explain the girls you’ve had… relations with between then and now, though,” you add, looking up at him. He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair.

“If you’re jealous, just say that,” he smirks. “We can just say that we only became exclusive recently.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, but quickly decide it’s not worth the argument, opting to just scoff and change the subject.

“What do we say when they ask why I’m not going on the tour with you guys?” you ask, adjusting nervously in your seat as a look washes over his face that you can’t quite interpret.

“Are you not?” Sam asks, the tone in his voice sounding slightly accusatory. You’re not even quite sure how to reply, this wasn’t something you ever discussed.

“Wait, do you want me to?” you ask, straightening your posture. “I still have to work, you know. This is how I make a living, I can’t just ditch Seb for weeks on end.” He ponders your words for a moment, then leans forward a bit.

“You don’t need all that. Jodie said she’d help set you up in your career, and she meant that,” he says sincerely. “She can pay you for the entire time we’re gone, if that’s the problem. I’m sure we can find something for you to do on the tour. And then when we come back, we can get you in the studio to record your album.”

It all almost felt too good to be true. Too easy. What was in it for them, truly? Sure, having a likable and successful girlfriend would be good for Sam’s image, but is that really all it is? Why does it feel like you’re getting way more out of this than they are?

“I don’t know, Sam. I really don’t feel like I’ll belong there. What could I possibly do on tour besides act as your arm candy?” you say bitterly.

“Y/N, you’re not just my arm candy. It isn’t like that,” he says dejectedly. His eyes scan your face but you don’t seem convinced.

“You may be strikingly beautiful, but you’re much more than that to me, trust me,” he teases, coaxing a smile out of you. When he sees that his plan is working, he continues. “Maybe you could help me compose some piano fills for the shows or something.”

“You’d really let me do that?” you ask, your eyes lighting up slightly. A soft smile grows across his lips.

“Sure. You won’t catch me admitting this ever again, so don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart… but you’re a talented musician. I’m sure we could cook something up together,” he says.

You look over at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this is the same Sam that you used to argue with all those weeks ago. Obviously, it is, and he’s still keeping you on your toes, but something’s changed. You’re starting to think that this partnership may work out after all.

“Okay. Alright, I’ll come,” you answer. “How long is it, anyway?”

“We’ll only be gone a month, and then we’ll have off until the end of the summer,” he assures you. It can’t be that bad, you suppose.

“Okay, so we have that covered, I guess,” you say, taking another sip of your drink. “I guess that just leaves one more thing. We should set up some rules.”

“Rules? Seriously?” Sam scoffs, leaning back in his seat again.

“Yes, seriously. We have to be on the same page or else this is gonna end up becoming a big mess,” you say, returning his annoyed look.

“Fine. What rules are we talking about here?” he concedes.

“Well, first of all, do the rest of the guys know? Do they know it’s fake?” you ask.

“They think it’s real,” he shrugs. “Jodie thought it’d be better that way.”

“Okay, we’ll keep it that way then. But Lucy knows it’s fake,” you admit, and he gives you a disapproving look. “I tell her everything, it’s not my fault! But she’s the only one, even Seb thinks it’s real somehow.”

“Right, well. To the rest of the world, it’s real then. Anything else?” he asks, raising his eyebrow at you.

“We should agree that this,” you start, pointing your finger between Sam and yourself, “is only in public. When we’re alone, it’s just me and you, none of this happy couple stuff.”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me twice,” he says with a smirk, “...unless that’s something you’ll have trouble with, sweetheart?” he teases.

“Yeah, right. I just can’t seem to keep my hands off you, my bad,” you answer sarcastically. “Whatever, so that’s handled. Have anything you wanna add?” you ask, sipping from your mug.

“Yeah, what happens if one of us forms any sort of…” he trails off, pondering his words carefully. “...feelings.” Your eyebrows shoot up as you look over at him, almost spitting out your drink. You swallow it quickly and clear your throat.

“Feelings?’ you laugh. “Not that that’s ever gonna be a problem, but… if it is, then I guess we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get there.”

“What, you’re not scared that you’ll fall in love with me?” he asks, leaning over the table slightly. You mirror his actions, your faces mere inches away.

“Not in the slightest, Samuel,” you answer proudly, your eyes piercing into his. You weren’t going to back down, and neither was he. As you watch his eyes drift to your lips, you clear your throat, leaning back again.

“Anything else?’ you ask, looking down at your mug in your hands as you avoid his gaze.

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ loudly. You can just hear the smirk in his voice. You’re not giving in that easily, you know that the second you look up at him, your heart will jump into your throat.

“Great, so that settles it,” you say, taking the last sip and then putting your empty mug down on the table. You watch as his hand extends out to yours, to shake it.

“Girlfriend?” he asks, smirking at you as you finally look up at him. You have to hold in a sigh as you offer your hand to him, shaking it.

“Girlfriend.”

His eyes dart between your eyes and your lips again before he brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it lightly. It takes everything in you not to fold right then and there, frankly, but you’re stronger than that.

His lips were just as soft as you thought they’d be. Not that you’ve thought about them before, of course not. Nonetheless, they were soft, and so warm. They lingered far longer than you wanted them to, and your instincts caused you to pull your hand away, placing it back in your lap. At that, you abruptly stand up from your seat, grab your tote bag, and put it on your shoulder.

“I have to– I’ve gotta go,” you say softly, and he quickly stands up.

“Okay, I’ll walk you home,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he follows you out the door. Again? That’s the second time just this week… You have to admit that it was thoughtful, but you don’t want to think too much of it. It’s just a nice gesture, nothing serious. He might be an arrogant asshole, but you guess he’s still a gentleman.

You walk beside each other on the sidewalk as you make your way down the street to your apartment. Every once in a while, his hand brushes yours as you walk, sending jolts throughout your body that you’re determined to ignore. You wondered why he asked you about the possibility of feelings being involved. Was that something he was worried about? Should you be worried about it? Surely not. Lucy seems to think you should be, if you told her about this she’d freak. But it’s not a big deal, right?

You stop in front of your building, the awkward opportunity of a goodbye leering over you both once more. You go back up toward your building in the same fashion as the other night, but a strong hand stops you before you get the chance to get too far.

“Josh is having a party on Friday,” he says quickly, as if he was spitting it out. “I told him I'd bring you.” You stop and look up at him, his grip on your upper arm still remaining.

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll be there,” you answer with a soft smile. His eyes light up, like he was expecting you to put up a fight.

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at 8?” he asks. You nod, as his eyes continue to burn into yours. God, what now? Before you have the chance to do something awkward, his other arm lands on your waist and he bends down, placing a kiss on your temple and then backing away toward the sidewalk, leaving you in silent shock. “See you then, sweetheart.”

“Uh– yeah, see you,” you mutter, your eyes trained on him as he turns the corner. What the fuck was that?

As you slam the door of your apartment, you rush off to your room with hopes of avoiding any interrogation from Lucy. It doesn’t work, however.

“Y/N,” she opens your door with a smug look on her face, leaning against the door frame. “How was your date?” You scoff at her as you throw yourself onto your bed.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you groan as she enters the room and climbs into bed next to you.

She stays sitting up as you lay your head on the pillow, and her fingers comb through your curls as you debrief the events of your afternoon. Despite her occasional jokes and teasing, she seems to be really supportive of you going on tour with the band. After all, it will be a good start for the future of your music career. But at what cost? What will it be like to spend a month straight with Sam Kiszka and his band of brothers? You still had two weeks to prepare, but even that didn’t feel like enough. Your world was moving a mile a minute, and it was only just getting started.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

Leave a comment or send me a message if you want to be added to the taglist for this series, or if you want to be tagged in all of my stories!

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archivxx · 1 year

Text

✯[0.08]✯

Previous || Next

To read before this.| [0.08-extra]

Note: maybe this whole fake dating thing isn’t so bad. Turns out, Clydes connections are going to benefit me. They’re also completely unknown to me.

You arrived to the second fake dating Thursday late again. But for different reasons this time—all Pete Thelman related.

You had overslept because you had stayed up till some unbelievable hour in the morning practicing the pitch with the group and rehearsing how you were going to sell the project to Pete Thelman. You only stopped when Kyle threw a tangerine at you to tell you to shut up since you were keeping him up from sleep. You needed up moving to your room and carrying on for at least another two hours.

Then if you weren’t already late enough, you had realised that your normal outfit (an oversized shirt, leggings and your hair in a messy bun) was probably not the best outfit to showcase your professionalism and sell you as a “future colleague” so you decided to change into more business attire. Dress for success and all that.

You burst through the door whispering the words to yourself over and over and then you noticed Clyde.

It was an okay-ish day for the time of year. You glanced at him, and immediately you knew he was in the nastiest of moods. That rumour of him throwing pens and pencils around his office because a deal was unsuccessful, or because one of his employees messed something up or something equally inconsequential had happened came to mind. You felt the need to duck.

It’s okay. You told yourself. This was worth it. It was all worth it. Things Nichole and Tolkien were starting to work out, really well. Better than even anticipated actually. They were almost officially dating, they had shown up to your most recent group outing together. You were hopefully going to convince Pete without messing things up, and in the right attire since you had made the last minute decision to change. In addition, you were gaining a free drink out of all this. You just had to look on the bright side. Even if it meant looking past this pitch-black mood of Clyde Donovan’s, it would be worth it.

“Hi.” You beamed. He looked at you, squinting as if you were too bright, with a look of angst and hatred painted on his face. “How are you?”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, his expression unchanging, as usual. He was waring his usual attire. You couldn’t help but notice his muscles wondering if his clothes had been custom made. You had also taken note that his hair had gone ever so slightly shorted in length. It felt surreal to you that you were at the point that you were taking note and keeping track of Clyde Donovan’s hair and his moods.

“Ready to get coffee?” You chirped.

He nodded dismissively. Barely even looking at you. On a table inside one of your executors was glancing back and through pretending to clean the monitor of her laptop.

“Sorry I was late again. I just—”

“It’s fine.”

“How was your week?”

“Fine.”

Wow, okay. “Um…did you do anything at weekend?”

“I worked.”

You got into line and fought off your sigh. “Weathers been nice, huh?” God, you’d made it to awkward conversation fillers.

He grunted in response.

It was starting to be too much. There was a limit to what you would do for this fake dating relationship—even for a free coffee. You sighed. “Is it because of the hair cut?”

“What?” He looked shocked.

“Is the mood because of the haircut?”

“What mood?”

You gestured to him. “This. This bad mood you’re in.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not in a bad mood.”

You snorted—thought that was probably not the right term for the noise you’d just made. It was too loud and derisive, more like a laugh.

A snaugh.

“What?” He frowned, unappreciative of your snaugh.

“Come on.”

“You ooze moodiness.”

“I do not.” He sounded almost offended you’d even said that about him.

“You so do. But it’s fine, you’re allowed to be in a bad mood.”

It was your turn so you took a step forward and smiled at the barista.

“Morning. Can I have a pumpkin spice latte and that cream cheese danish over there. Yep, that one thank you. And”—You pointed at Clyde with your thumb—“he’ll have a chamomile tea. No sugar.” You added cheerfully taking a few small steps to the side to avoid damage in case Clyde decided to dart a pen at you. You were surprised when he calmly handed his card to the barista. Really, he wasn’t as bad as they made him out to be.

“I hate tea.” He said. “And chamomile.”

You beamed up at him. “That is truly unfortunate.”

“You smart-ass.”

He stared straight ahead, but you were almost certain that he was about to crack a smile. There was a lot to be said about him but not that he didn’t have a sense of humour.

“So…not the haircut?”

“Mm? Ah, no. It was a weird length. Getting in my way while I was running.”

Oh. So he was a runner. Like you. “Okay. Great. Because it doesn’t look bad.”

It looks good. As in really good. You are probably the most handsome man I’d ever talked to in the last week, but now you look even better. Not that I care about these things. I don’t care at all. I rarely even notice you’d, and I’m not sure why I’m noticing you, or your hair, or your clothes, or how tall you are. I really don’t get it. I never care. Usually. Ugh.

“I…” he seemed flustered for a second, his lips moving without making a sound as he looked for an appropriate response. Then, out of the blue, he said, “I talked with the CEO this morning. He’s still refusing to discuss a new contract.”

“Oh.” You cocked your head. “I thought they weren’t due until the end of September.”

“They aren’t. This was an informal meeting, but the topic came up. He said he’s still monitoring the situation.”

“I see.” You waited for him to continue. When it became clear that he wouldn’t, you asked, “Monitoring…how?”

“Unclear.” He was clenching his jaw.

“I’m sorry.” You felt for him. You really did. If there was something you could empathise with, it was contracts and how awkward they can be and how awkward companies can be about them. “Don’t that mean you can’t continue your career?”

“I have other plans it’s just awkward.”

“So…the problem is that you can’t remain here?”

“I can. But my contact would change and I like how it is now and I would like it to roll over and be the exact same on my next contract.l

Uh? “I see.” You cleared your throat. “So…let me recap. It sounds like they might terminate your contract based on rumours, which I agree is a crappy move. But it also sounds like now you can go bigger and get even greater deals with better companies, so…it’s not the end of the world?”

Clyde gave you an affronted glare, suddenly looking even more cross.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry I just don’t see how you’re truly missing out, i mean—” you were cut short when the barista handed you your danish.

You took a bite out of it—fuck it was nice—you watched his face, how it contorts, while you were chewing. He was watching the barista.

“Look okay, my point is, it’s not an insurmountable problem. Besides we’re working though it together, showing people that you’re going to stay here forever because of your amazing girlfriend.”

You pointed at yourself. His glare followed your hand, clearly he was not a fan or rationalising or working through his problems.

“Or you can stay mad, we can go to your office and throw pens at each other till the pain of being pelleted overrides your shitty mood? Sounds like fun, no?”

He looked away, rolling his eyes. You could see it in the curve of his cheeks that he was amused. Likely against his will. “You are such a smart ass.”

“Maybe but I’m not the one who grunted when I asked how your week was.”

“I did not grunt. And you ordered me chamomile tea.”

You smiled. “You’re welcome.”

There was a quiet moment when you chewed through your of your danish. Once you’d swallowed you rationalised a little and said, “I’m sorry about your funds.”

He shook his heads “I’m sorry about the mood.”

Oh. “It’s okay. You’re famous for that.”

“I am?”

“Yep. It’s kinda of your thing.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmm.”

His mouth twitched. “Maybe I wanted to spare you.”

You smiled, because it was actually a nice thing to say. And he was not a nice person, but he was very kind to you most of the time—not always. He was almost smiling, staring down at you in a way that you couldn’t quite interpret but that made you think weird thoughts, until the barista deposited your drinks on the counter. He suddenly looks like he was about to retch.

“Clyde? Are you okay?”

He stared at your cup and took a step back. “The smell of that thing.”

You inhaled deeply. Heavenly. “You hate pumpkin spice latte?”

He wrinkled his nose, recoiling. “Gross.”

“How can you hate it? It’s the best thing your country has produced in the past century.”

“Please, stand back. The stench.”

“Hey. If I have to choose between you and pumpkin spice latte, maybe we should rethink our arrangement.”

He eyes your cup like it contained radioactive waste. “Maybe we should.”

He held the door open as you exited the coffee shop, taking care not to come too close to your drink. You could see through the windows of the lobby that, outside it was started by to drizzle. Some passers-by were hastily putting their hoods up and getting their umbrellas out. You had been in love with the rain since as far back as you could remember. You watched happily, Stopping with Clyde outside the cafe. He took a sip of his chamomile tea, and it made you happy.

“Hey,” you said, “I have an idea. Are you going to the event the company’s been promoting like crazy?”

He nodded. “I have to, if I want to keep this contract I kind of have to suck up to them.”

“Ah. That sounds…fun.” You winced sympathetically, almost laughing again at his appalled expression. “Well I’m going, Tolkien says it promotes the band and shows are our bonding, something about us being seen as normal people. Are you going to make any of your big shot friends go?”

“No. I have other ways of making them miserable.”

You chuckled. He was funny, in that weird dark way of his. “I bet you do. Well, here’s my idea; since it’s a closed event, we should hand out. In front of the CEO and contract manager; they’ll see we’re basically one step away from marriage. Then he’ll make a quick phone call and a truck will drive up and give you your new contract right there in front of—”

“Hey, man!”

A black and red haired guy approached Clyde. You fell silent as Clyde turned to smile at him and exchanged a handshake—a close bros handshake. You blinked, wondering if you were seeing things, and took a sip of your latte.

“I thought you’d sleep in.” Clyde was saying.

“The time difference screwed me up. I figured I might as well come here and get to work. Something to eat, too, you have no food, man.”

“There are apples in the kitchen.”

“Right. No food.”

You took a step back, ready to excuse yourself when the guy turned to you. He looked eerily familiar, even though you were certain you had never met him before.

“And who’s this?” He asked curiously. His eyes were unnervingly black.

“This is Y/N,” Clyde said. There was a beat after your name, in which he should have probably specified how he knew you. He did not, and you really couldn’t blame him for not wanting to feed your fake-dating crap to someone who was clearly a good friend. You just kept your smile in place and let Clyde continue. “Y/N this is my collaborator—”

“Dude.” He man pretended to be bristle. “Introduce me as your friend.”

Clyde rolled his eyes, clearly amused. “Y/N this is my friend and collaborator, Pete Thelman.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @ryenwritess @bootsieboo @southparktegreity @h3artilly

#south park #reader insert #clyde donovan #bounded smau #clyde donovan x reader #pete thelman

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fanficrocks · 8 days

Text

Touch my heart

For @chrumblr-whumblr: May whump challenge #17 - Touch starved

Fandom: Lewis (ITV)

Length: ~3k words

Also posted to AO3

DI Robbie Lewis was clearing his desk on the evening of Good Friday in no great mood and with few plans for the weekend. Part of him was happy for his sergeant DS James Hathaway, a practising Catholic who would hopefully appreciate being able to attend the Easter service at church without worrying about a callout. For himself, Easter meant very little since his kids had grown too old for the egg hunt; and religion in general meant nothing at all since his wife’s tragic death some seven years ago. Indeed, the prospect of a full weekend off-rota held little appeal.

Just then, James returned to the office with the ballistics report they had been waiting for, the final nail in the coffin for the case they had cleared two days ago. As he added it to the file for CPS and brought the whole across to his boss, Robbie gave in to impulse.

“So, what are your plans for the weekend? Aside from church on Easter morning?”

“The band I play in - we have a gig in Reading tomorrow night for the local diocese. A bit different from what we normally play, so we are meeting for lunch and spending the afternoon rehearsing.”

“And Sunday, after church?”

“Nothing definite. Why?”

“Do you fancy takeaway at mine? There is a fine single malt calling our names, and you can break in the new sofa bed. Come a bit early if you like and we can watch more than one DVD from that boxset you brought last time.”

Despite the seemingly casual invitation, Robbie found himself holding his breath. It had been well over a month since James had joined him for a meal at his, and even their after-work pints had taken on a different flavour… almost as though he was showing up out of habit or duty, and not because he wanted to. Which was a puzzle, because they had settled into a nice pattern over the past couple of years - ever since the Phoenix case had rattled their equilibrium so badly.

Even worse in Robbie’s opinion, James seemed to have been distancing himself at work too. Not in a way that would be obvious to anyone else - their usual repartee in quip and counterquip continued unabated, and not even such sharp observers as Dr. Laura Hobson or DCS Innocent had noticed anything. But he had - the difference was subtle but definite, and he found himself missing all the causal touches that punctuated their days… a hand on the back to indicate who should go through a doorway first, a friendly bump of the shoulder when walking down a narrow pavement, or a touch on the forearm to quietly draw attention to a clue. James and he had never had much sense of personal space around each other except when seriously at odds; and despite the tensions during the Crevecoeur case during the winter, he thought they had hit their stride once again. If anything, James had grown closer and more trusting since then - particularly once Robbie had made it clear that he was not going to push for any explanations regarding James’ childhood when his father was employed on that estate. Or so it had seemed, until the changes of the last weeks.

To his surprise and relief, James looked happy - nay, delighted - at the invitation. His face broke into an all-too-rare sincere smile which seemed blinding in its intensity as he rushed to accept, with the stipulation that he would bring dessert. As they turned to walk in step down to the car park, Robbie felt something right itself despite the couple of feet of distance James continued to maintain between them. And found himself looking forward to the weekend after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

By Sunday afternoon, Robbie was basking in a pleasant sense of achievement - all the chores he had postponed for weeks as they had hit a string of complex cases were finally done, and he had taken advantage of the good weather to get a start on the little back garden that came with his flat. And he now had a pleasant evening to look forward to with his best mate. On the thought, he decided to text James to check what time he would be coming over, since they had not really decided what “early” meant. Text sent and cuppa in hand, he went back into the garden to continue planning what he would get to the next time he had a free day or two, and to wonder whether James might be game to join him.

Almost an hour later, there was no answer to his text, nor when he tried calling James. Robbie left messages on both his mobile and his home phone, and willed himself to wait a further half hour - maybe the lad was showering. But once his self-imposed interval had elapsed with no response from James, he could not wait any longer. Grabbing his car keys, he drove over to James’ flat, barely keeping within the posted speed limit on the thankfully empty roads. Once there, it was the work of a moment to check that James’ car was in its accustomed spot before letting himself in using the spare key he had been given a couple of years ago now.

Stepping into James’ apartment, Robbie was brought up short by the unaccustomed clutter visible from the hall. Not that he had been here all that often, but after four years of sharing an office with James, he knew that the other man was always neat and systematic in everything he did. And he would never have left his beloved Gibson lying on the floor in the hallway!

Increasingly worried about what he would find, Robbie walked further into the flat, calling out to James as he went. The silence that met him was distinctly unnerving, particularly as he knew that James should be at home. Until he entered the bedroom to find a fully clothed lanky frame collapsed on the bed, sweating and shivering simultaneously, while evidently too exhausted to have removed even his belt and shoes.

With a startled exclamation, Robbie made his way to the bedside. It did not take long to realise what was wrong - James had obviously come down with the flu that had been making the rounds of the nick for the past couple of weeks, and between fever and incipient dehydration, was in no shape to respond to the phone or indeed even to Robbie’s voice. And knowing him as Robbie did, it was likely the daft sod had been feeling poorly for a few days and ignoring it. Deciding that the recriminations could wait until James was better, he set to work getting the younger man comfortably into bed before attempting to get some fluids and paracetamol into him.

As he struggled with an utterly uncoordinated and floppy six-foot-three-inch sergeant, Robbie remembered just why nurses have to be so strong. By the time he got James changed into his pyjamas (old track bottoms and a threadbare T-shirt that surely could not have survived from his Cambridge days?) and manoeuvred him properly into bed, it was evident that this was just the start of a long evening and night. The lad’s temperature seemed to be steadily climbing, and while not yet obviously uncooperative, he was not exactly easy to coax into doing the needful - not making any sense when he talked, but nonetheless managing to convey his displeasure in increasingly inventive mumbles. Fortunately, James still seemed to recognise his touch and responded well enough to that, even if he seemed to be trying to burrow into Robbie for comfort.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later, Robbie realised he would have to call Innocent and request a sick day (or several) for James. While in no immediate danger or need of further medical attention, the lad was obviously unwell and would need time to recover. But the trickier thing would be to convince Innocent to give Robbie the next day off too… given how James was just now, there seemed to be no other option. He could barely go to the kitchen to fetch him something to drink, or to the bathroom to refresh the wet flannel to cool his brow, without triggering intense anxiety on James’ part. Indeed, he only seemed to calm down and rest if Robbie was holding his hand or stroking his hair… as though that touch was the only thing anchoring him.

Not wanting to disturb James, who seemed to have finally dropped off into a doze, Robbie decided to text Innocent and hope for the best. His guardian angels must have been working overtime, for she responded almost immediately and, albeit grudgingly, granted him a day off with the proviso that he be available should an emergency arise. With a sigh of relief, Robbie put away his phone and turned back to his awkward sod, gently freeing his left hand from the deathgrip James had on it in favour of replacing the wet flannel with his right. To his surprise, James brought his own hand up in a more coordinated movement than any he had essayed so far and pressed it over Robbie’s, as if to tighten the contact before relaxing back into sleep.

It was an hour before James woke up, seemingly more compos mentis this time, and uncomplainingly cooperative when Robbie encouraged him to drink some orange juice. After helping him to the bathroom and changing the damp sheets in the interim, Robbie got him resettled in bed with a fresh cold flannel and water within easy reach.

“Lad, will you be alright on your own for a little while? You don’t have much in the fridge by way of fluids, so I will make a quick visit to the shops.”

“Of course, Sir. And thank you! I don’t know how… you really didn’t need to… ”

“Give over, man! You are not just my sergeant, you are my mate. Now, seeing it is Easter Sunday, your local shop might be closed, so don’t get worried if I have to drive to the nearest supermarket and it takes a bit longer.”

Prophetic words, as it turned out. Not only were the small local shops closed, so was the nearest supermarket. By the time Robbie located one that was open and stocked up on the items he thought they would need, it was well over an hour since he had left James. He sent a brief text to explain, then hurried back as quickly as he could given the suddenly heavy traffic due to people returning from their Easter weekend trips.

Putting away the supplies he had bought, Robbie entered James’ bedroom carrying a tray bearing a bowl of hot chicken soup, some fresh bread, and further supplies of juice and paracetamol to see his sergeant trying to get out of bed and swaying in the process. Quickly putting the tray down on the dresser, he reached out to James, grasping his shoulders to steady him… only for James to turn into his body and cling desperately. Although wracked by fever and weakness, he was gripping Robbie as though for dear life. And no power on earth could stop him then from slipping his arms comfortingly around that shaking form.

“It’s alright, lad. I am here. What’s wrong?”

“You came back! You didn’t leave me!”

“Of course I came back, lad. I only went to get some supplies. Why did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Nobody does. All go away, never come back.”

“I am here, James. I won’t go away like that.”

“You did. When I lied to you. About Will and Feardocha and the others.”

“But I came back. I always do. As you know, lad.”

Somehow, that seemed to get through to James, who allowed himself to be settled back against the piled pillows and accepted the soup Robbie was offering. He did not seem to know what to do with it, though, and simply sat there with a troubled stare as the soup cooled. With a sigh, Robbie sat down at the edge of the bed and lightly cuffed him on the arm.

“The soup won’t drink itself, you know. Come on now, a few spoonfuls won’t hurt you. And the bread will settle your tummy - let you alternate ibuprofen with the paracetamol to break the fever sooner.”

“What about you?”

“I will have mine after you finish.”

“You won’t go away?”

“No, daft lad. I won’t go away. I will bring my dinner here and sit in the armchair to have it if the smell of food won’t bother you.”

Satisfied, James settled back and proceeded to eat. The soup and bread felt just right, as did Robbie’s solid presence by his side. A few minutes later, as he mopped up the last of the soup and accepted the tablets Robbie offered, he felt sufficiently restored to feel for the glasses on his bedside table and perch them on his nose before reaching for the book lying open there. A soft chuckle from Robbie made him look up then.

“What?”

“Only you would pick up a book with such small print when scarcely able to hold your head upright.”

“It’s just that I don’t want to fall asleep again right away. Not until I make sure you have eaten too.”

“That so? Why don’t we chat a bit then? So long as it won’t hurt your throat.”

“My throat is surprisingly clear, though I can’t say the same about my head. What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing particular. You choose. Just no more flipping elves.”

That set James off laughing, though he had to stop soon enough as his exhausted body could handle only so much. Taking the laughter as a good sign, Robbie bore away the used tray and came back in with his sandwich and beer to settle down in the armchair after pulling it close enough for James to reach him if he so wanted. To his surprise, James took his hand unselfconsciously and initiated the conversation this time.

“I was really looking forward to our takeaway and DVD night, you know.”

“Glad to hear it. How about we do it once you are recovered?”

“You mean that?”

“Not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean! And I miss relaxing with you at the end of a case, or even just because. You do know that you are welcome any time, don’t you?”

James turned an interesting shade of pink at this, and nodded as a shy - almost incredulous - smile played around his lips. Robbie returned to his sandwich, wondering what new complications the daft lad’s overactive brain was cooking up now, and how he might need to handle them.

“I just wanted to say, Sir, I really appreciate it. The acceptance and friendship you extend to me… I have never… just, thank you.”

“As I said, James, I consider you a friend. My best mate, really. So you have nothing to thank me for. You would do as much if the situation was reversed.”

“Hmmm. Still, I have never had anyone to do this for me. It… takes a bit of getting used to.”

Robbie found himself swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat at this admission. Taking a moment to compose himself, for James would shut down immediately if his reaction had even the faintest whiff of pity, he looked up and met his friend’s eyes openly, allowing his understanding to colour his gaze.

“Sometimes, we get lucky with our families. Other times, it takes longer and we have to find our clan.”

“Was that why you moved so far from home?”

“No - I was one of the lucky ones. We were almost frighteningly poor when I was growing up, but there was plenty of love to go around. It was the miners strikes in ‘84 that drove me south… wasn’t easy being a copper when many among my family and mates were working in the mines. The tensions ran too high just then, so it made sense to move here closer to Val’s folks.”

“I didn’t realise. That must have been hard.”

“Aye, especially at first. But it got easier with time, like almost everything does. Now, how about a cuppa before you get some sleep? I saw you have some non-caf herbal teas. Ginger-lemon sound OK?.”

At James’ nod, he went into the kitchen to put the kettle on and clear away the detritus of dinner, such as it was, while waiting for the tea to steep. Re-entering the bedroom a few minutes later, he found James trying valiantly to keep his eyelids open and not slide down into a fully recumbent position. Realising the younger man’s struggle, Robbie sat down beside him and slipped a supportive arm beneath his shoulders while holding his other hand ready to steady the cup in case of need. James relaxed against his side as he slowly sipped the tea as though the simple act of raising and lowering the cup required all his concentration.

Tea drunk, he sank back against his pillows, still pressed against Robbie’s side as though loath to give up the contact. Once James was deeply asleep, Robbie settled him comfortably then rose to retreat to the armchair, only for a long-fingered hand to clutch his own tightly.

“Don’t go away.”

“I am not, lad. I will be right here - in the armchair.”

“No. Too far. Don’t go.”

“Alright. I am right here - you hold on to my hand.”

That seemed to do the trick as James drifted off again. Robbie sat there gently stroking the hand he was holding and hoping that would soothe the nervous twitches and jerks… it was as though James could not fully relax even in his sleep, and he wondered what else was in store until the fever broke properly.

Some indeterminate amount of time later, he looked up into James’ wide-open eyes. Their gaze was unfocused and for a moment, he was concerned that the lad was delirious, when he spoke in a dreamy tone.

“You are still here.”

“Course I am. Promised you, didn’t I?”

“And you always keep your promises.”

“I do. Or at least, I try my best to.”

“Something I need to learn from you. But I am doing better at it - I gave up touching you as my Lenten sacrifice, and I did not break that vow.”

“Why lad? Does it bother you when I touch you? You should have said… I guess I have been used to having someone around, and transferred that to you as we became friends.”

“Bother me? No, it is exactly the opposite.”

As James dropped back into sleep, a number of things suddenly made sense to Robbie. Lent - and in the spirit of sacrificing something important to him, James had determined to give up the casual touches the two of them so frequently shared. So that was the reason for the distance he had sensed between them over the past weeks. While it was a relief to know that he had not done anything to precipitate the distance, Robbie knew that when the right time came, he would need to talk to James about being sensible in his sacrifices. Life had taught him that being too alone could eat into a man’s soul, that we are not made to exist without human touch. That there is no shame in needing a caring presence and a warm hand to grasp.

But those were matters for another day when James was recovered and hopefully willing to talk to him. For now, it was enough that his presence and his touch were helping James, and that the lad trusted him enough to let him in thus far. What he truly wanted from their friendship - that was something to discuss later. But one thing Robbie was determined on… whatever it was, he would be there for James to the best of his ability and with his whole heart.

#itv lewis #robbie lewis #james hathaway #fanfic #fan fiction #ao3 #ao3fic

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fundielicious-simblr · 7 months

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(Lana's POV)

FORD & COLLINS WEDDING WEEKEND

Day 1 & 2 - Bachelorette Party & Wedding Rehearsal + Welcome dinner

Day 1

The time that I've prayed for has finally come - WEDDING WEEKEND!

Our family and friends have made their way into Oasis Springs for our wedding weekend and I couldn't be more excited! I've spent the last few weeks getting the last details done with for this weekend and for it to be finally happening makes my heart sing. The first official event was my bachelorette party on thursday, followed by the wedding rehearsal and welcome dinner for our families on friday, and the wedding on saturday. My girls got my this wonderful 'Bride' sash to wear for the weekend's festivities until the wedding, I've had my fill of white outfits in the past couple of months and I can't wait to cap it off with my wedding dress to end the weekend.

A few weeks before the wedding, my bridal party and I did a little weekend away as a little pre-bachelorette event before the main one before the wedding. My hair and makeup artist are based in the next town over, so my girls and I headed there for a quick weekend getaway so I could do a hair and makeup trial and spend some time with my bridal party. We had a wonderful dinner at a local restaurant on night one, and once we had done my hair and makeup trial we spent a day at the spa in this wonderful resort. One of the bridal shower gifts I got was a bunch of coupons to use at the spa, which we gladly put to good use. Lorilee and Priscilla are both postpartum after having their babies, so they made sure to get the special massage that the spa offers to mothers who have recently given birth.

The Lord knew what he was doing when he blessed me with my little sister Lyndsay. She's been my right hand woman for this whole process, and has really stepped into the role of Maid of Honour. We've spent many a night planning, laughing, and even crying as we really took in my last few weeks that turned into my last few days at home.

I love these girls so much! For my bachelorette party I asked all the girls to wear pink, and we spent the day together. We started with a brunch at my parents house, the girls were able to see my childhood home, then we did a hymn sing before we went to a friend's place where we played all these cute 'newlywed' games before sitting down for a meal. Macie and one of my aunts volunteered to make the meal for us, having such great family reminds me how greatly I am blessed.

I'm so thankful that Adalynn and Kyleigh made the effort to travel down here for the wedding with their children, as well as being pregnant. They've come and taken the role of the older sisters that I didn't have growing up, and for that I'm very grateful. That's not to say I'm forgetting the other sisters, they've all made such sacrifices for us all to be able to be together for the wedding. The only people missing are Beckett and Mandy, but their responsibilities in the mission field come first, we'll celebrate with them at Harvestfest.

My bridal party have really gone above and beyond for me, as much as I would've liked to have a 20 person bridal party, I had to be realistic in my wants. My sister Lyndsay is my maid of honour, she's been there for me for this whole process and not living with her will definitely be an adjustment. Lorilee and I have known each other since we were young girls and essentially grew up together and without her meeting and marrying Charles, I would've not met Parker when I did. Annette and I have gotten quite close during my visits to Newcrest, and has become a confidant of mine. Priscilla lives in Oasis Springs so we've been able to bond due to our proximity to one another, she's taken me in and treated me like family since we met and I couldn't thank her enough. My bachelorette party ended that afternoon to allow the ladies to go off and be with their families again for the evening, and to prepare for the rehearsal on the next day.

Day 2

Day 2 was the wedding rehearsal and the welcome dinner that evening. The weather was perfect for an outdoor wedding, and I can only hope that it stays just as beautiful for the wedding day. Parker's family rented out a restaurant close to the ceremony space for the welcome dinner, so we headed there afterwards. During dinner, both of our parents made speeches, as well as some of our siblings and a few friends. There was lots of prayer of course, and afterwards we headed home so we could have an early night and get loads of rest for the wedding.

#fundie sims #fundiesims #quiverfull sims #quiver full sims #collins family #modest sims #sims 4 legacy #collins legacy #homeschool sims #gen 3 #Parker and Lana #FINALLY this wedding is happening #it took me an unnecessarily long amount of time to finish this because I'd get so sick of having of think like Lana 😂#The manicures and pedicures are the safest thing to take pictures of when posing because the spas are buggy af #Lana is so happy shes marrying into a large family that she's embracing them all #its very Wissmann coded

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noxtms · 2 years

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MINISTER ANTONIN KARKAROFF has remained tight lipped regarding this years ministry gala following the tutshill derby attack and hospitalisation of his only son, with many assuming that these extenuating circumstances would lead to it being pushed - for the first time since conception - into september at the very earliest. as a mark of strength ( and some would say, in true karkaroff fashion ) however, the minister of magic has today confirmed that the annual gala will go ahead as normal on the first sunday of august, with the dedicated organisational team working around the clock to ensure another successful evening !

❝ the dedicated team usually starts working on the event in early june, and volunteer employees are pulled from every department and given strict instruction on what they should focus on in the planning of their presentations and talks. of course minister karkaroff felt it wasteful to throw out the hard work of so many individuals, but the more important thing has been showing the death eaters who attacked innocent individuals at the derby that we remain strong & uncowed in the face of their adversary. in addition to the heavy auror presence, the minister has paid for private security out of his own pocket to ensure that our honored guests feel most secure over the course of the night - and one has to wonder how we possibly couldn’t, knowing as we do now that he himself is perfectly capable of protecting guests en masse in the worst case scenario ! ❞

WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE :

kingsley shacklebolt was the mastermind behind the ANNUAL MINISTRY GALA, with he & his cabinet organising the very first one following the end of the second wixen war as a way to show off their new and improved ministry of magic to the public. it has become an extremely important event in wixen society, and tickets are highly sought after by members of the public, even now - for a single night on the first weekend of august, ‘outsiders’ are given the opportunity to see the the changes implemented across departments since the end of the war and the steps taken to ensure that they do not return to what they were, before it.

ministry workers and those who fought in the battle of hogwarts have, in the past, received an automatic invite along with the option to bring along a plus one. the rest of the guest list has always been bulked out by the random allocation of 150 tickets to members of the british wixen community, who receive their invites by owl post two weeks before the gala itself. the greatest wixen chefs known across britain prepare an incredible four course meal that is served early in the evening before the beautifully decorated tables are vanished and a ballroom dancefloor is conjured at the centre of the atrium, all the better for guests to enjoy a slow dance to the orchestral music that plays all night. several open bars can be found dotted throughout the space, and flutes of champagne or glasses of wine can be brought along to the presentations from all ( but one, since the dept of mysteries remains closed ) of the departments on what they’re currently focusing time & effort on. department heads give rehearsed TEN MINUTE talks to any interested guests, and they’re free to answer any well worded question that is thrown their way, though cautioned to remain tight lipped when it comes to their personal opinions.

this year, one of the topics they should remain silent on is one that is bound to be hottest amongst guests as all of the most recognizable members of dumbledore’s army are snubbed from the guestlist. the members of the da who took voldemort’s life and brought about the end of the war were, in the past, treated as celebrities - they received vip lanyards that gave them access to off limits areas of the ministry, private and guided tours, a spot at the head table with the minister of magic at their side and, in general, special treatment in comparison to everyone else. it seems that minister karkaroff - the newly minted hero of the tutshill derby attack - has finally gotten his wish, and for the first time in eight years, the da have not just had their perks taken unceremoniously from them, but been excluded almost in entirety from the event as a whole.

OUT OF CHARACTER :

the eighth annual ministry gala is the third version of this event that has hit the nox dash since we opened, and this year, we have officially come full circle. the da have always had pride of place at this event as the heroes of the second war, shown to us through the special treatment that was heaped on them at the sixth gala ( the first one we ever wrote ). at the seventh, they were taken off that vip list and sent to the back of the atrium following their breaking in to the department of mysteries in christmas, 2020. now, they have been excluded entirely. it WILL NOT go unnoticed, but how much people allow themselves to care about this widely deemed minor snub is for you to decide !

the event officially begins on sunday the 21st of august at 12:00am gmt. click here to see what that equates to for your tiemzone !

it’ll last for two weeks, but i’m not going to request the pausing of current threads provided that event threads are appropriately tagged and differentiated from them.

all event related starters can be tagged with nox.event029 ! the location is the ministry of magic, but feel free to specify what level your character is on ( while keeping in mind that the main level - where meals are served and the orchestra plays - is the atrium, while the department of mysteries is locked and strictly off limits ).

the only publicly known members of dumbledore’s army to receive an invite are those who would believably have been issued an invite due to being seen as an important figure in the wix world, in their own right, with the only other option available to them being the possibility of being the plus one of a named & played character. this snub is on purpose - ie, while a loophole does exist, i don’t want you guys to exploit it ! the very, very few who attend will receive no special treatment, and may find the vibe from high ranking officials to be uniquely cold. please keep that in mind !

if you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to message the main with them ! please comment your current favorite song on this post to show you’ve read it !

#nox.event #nox.event029 #hp rp #harry potter rp #appless rp #fandom rp #canon rp #oc rp #mumu rp #established rp

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sarahtheflutist · 1 year

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January month in review!

Practiced flute - 21/30 days. Two of the missing days were my busy Mondays where I work, teach, and have rehearsal. And I was sick for a few days at the end of last week, so I'm not too down about that.

Practiced piccolo - 6/30 days. When I bought the picc at the end of last month, I hadn't yet joined an ensemble and I was anticipating having much more time to practice.

Practiced piano - 4/30 days. I'm happy with this. I don't use my piano skills outside of the classroom and where I'm currently at has worked well enough.

Masterclasses - I attended two masterclasses in January. My goal with this is if I have access to a class, I should take it. Especially with so much happening online. I have taken masterclasses with James and Jeanne Galway on Sundays, Nicole Esposito, Nicole Riner... I have learned so much over the past few months and I will continue to do so.

My goal for next month is a more consistent practice. Three weekdays, I am home at the same time and can start practicing at the same time each day. Weekends I want to restructure and still practice later in the day, but in the morning.

#sarah's month #<< new tag for 2023

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sergiovinazzi · 3 years

Text

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Two)

2.9k words, rated E for everyone :)

Lando’s voice, amplified by the TV speakers, echoes around the humming Red Bull garage. “I’m fine but I’ve been better. I can say that I’m not in perfect condition, I’m not gonna lie. Some work to do mentally of course. I talk about that a lot, and mental health and mental strength is very important. I’ve not been sleeping that great and so on… not ideal and I’m feeling a bit sore, but I’m not the guy in the worst position after Wembley. I’ll work on it, I’ll make sure I’m in the best shape possible, and I feel like I can still go out and focus on what I need to do, and that’s the main thing.”

Your mind races as you listen to the boy plastered across the many screens revisit his experience at Wembley. He sounds awful; something about his cadence making it even more obvious that he is really, truly shaken up. The wavering pitch, awkward pausing, fumbling for words; everything about the way he presents himself is serving as a brutal reminder that being physically unscathed is no indicator that harm was not dealt. Even as the interview moves past the topic of last week’s Euro Final, you notice the shift in demeanor and your heart aches. You worry that bringing the watch to him is a bad idea, that it could prompt unbidden memories and disquieting feelings. You understand how big of an event Silverstone is from your dad’s tangents alone, especially for an English team with an English driver, so you reevaluate whether your decision to come was selfish, one made solely to alleviate your own sentiments of guilt rather than to verily right your believed wrongdoings.

On the journey to Silverstone, your dad had made multiple attempts at lessening your stress, even opting for variations of the if he steps out of line I will put him right back in his place father speech. Unfortunately fruitless, your father’s attempts mean you remain just as anxious as when you had first discovered that you managed to obtain a stolen wristwatch.

You’re not sure whether it’s the crisp morning air or your nerves that sends chills across your flesh, but your attempt to ground yourself subtly doesn’t go unnoticed by your dad as he passes you in the garage.

“Time is ticking,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips. “No pun intended.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to downplay your apprehension, but your voice gives away any and all signs of the false confidence you hope to portray. “Can you do it for me?” you plead.

“I can’t just stroll on over to the McLaren garage without an invitation or proper reason, especially not a couple hours before free practice starts. It doesn’t look good.”

“It’s not like me walking in there instead would look any better,” you retort, gesturing to the Red Bull logo plastered across the chest of your black polo. “Your branding isn’t what I would call subtle.”

“Look, the McLaren team are a good sort. They’ll help you out if you just explain the issue and show them the watch. I’m sure Lando will understand too, he seems like a pretty nice bloke,” your dad reassures you.

Sighing, your eyes meet the floor, fingers intertwined with each other as you fidget incessantly. Before you can speak up in further defiance, however, an additional set of footsteps grow nearer and you freeze at the voice which speaks up.

“Christian, how much longer until our media slot?”

You lose your breath momentarily, locking your gaze onto your shoes as you wait for the person to pass by.

“About five minutes, Max,” your dad replies. “We were just about to head over.”

When you hear the footsteps grow fainter, you risk looking up, thankfully being met with only the observance of your father. You don’t even realize that you’ve tensed your body until your dad points it out.

“Relax,” he says. “He’s not going to say anything here, especially not on a race weekend.”

Nodding, you feel your shoulders ease up but you remain quiet.

“Anyways, like I said, our media briefing and interviews start soon and we’re after McLaren this weekend so they should already be back in their garage,” he says, realizing that you still appear troubled by the task ahead of you. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Just go over there and I’ll meet you back here when we’re done. The quicker you head over, the quicker you’re done with it and we can all move on." With that, your dad walks away and you reluctantly leave the Red Bull garage, adjusting your shirt as you straighten up.

You take a brief glance at your phone, turning it off after you try one last time to keep the picture of the boy imprinted in your mind. Eyes darting rapidly, you attempt to scan the paddock for anyone looking remotely like him while you make your way towards the bright orange and blue indicators of the McLaren garage.

The frequency of orange-clad individuals grows the further you stray from the safety of Red Bull’s garage, and you feel your heartbeat begin to increase. Worried that someone would stop you before you could approach the one person you had traveled all the way to Silverstone for in the first place, you quicken your pace.

You’re mere meters away when you spot him. Pushing past a few people while trying to keep your eyes trained on him, you watch as he turns around to talk briefly with the woman next to him.

Huffing, you muster up the little confidence you have and tap him on the shoulder.

His confusion is evident and the blonde woman next to him does not look pleased to have been interrupted. The silence is palpable as they stare at you, expecting an explanation for the abrupt ending of their conversation.

“Hi,” is all you can deliver. You’re at a loss for words while the woman next to him seems to lose what little patience she has with you. Everything you had rehearsed beforehand, gone. Your mind is foggy and your mouth feels dry as you try to compose yourself. “Um, can I talk to you for a second? It won’t be long, I promise.” Your voice breaks at the end and you wish you had never agreed to get on that stupid red-eye to Silverstone in the first place.

Lando offers a look of sympathy and then turns to the woman next to him. “Charlotte, could you just give us a second?”

Pursing her lips and turning on her heel, the woman walks away, heading towards the mouth of the McLaren garage. She’s far enough away that you’re out of earshot, but close enough that you feel her gaze linger as Lando turns back to face you.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he tells you with a smile. “We can take a picture if you want or I can sign some stuff for you.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mentally slapping your palm against your forehead and forcing yourself to get a grip. Idiot. “Fuck, sorry, that sounded so rude! It’s just-” you rush to explain.

“Oh no, it’s okay!” he stammers. “I should’ve guessed from the Red Bull shirt anway.”

You both share an awkward laugh before you compose yourself and reach a shaky hand into your bag.

“This is going to sound so weird, but I was online shopping for a new watch the other day because I lost mine, and I’m pretty sure I bought the one that was stolen from you. I didn’t know anything about it, I swear. I just...well, here,” you say, offering the watch and its temporary box to Lando.

He looks at you, taking the box only to go wide-eyed at the contents inside.

“I have all the information that I was able to get, but the ad was taken off of eBay and I really wanted to do the right thing and give it back to you. Please don’t be mad.”

“What the hell?!” he exclaims, earning a few looks from people passing by and catching Charlotte’s attention once more. “Sorry, sorry. How did you get this?”

Amused, you laugh quietly while he studies the watch intently. “That was my dad’s reaction too. Basically there was a listing for it on eBay and it was sort of an impulse buy,” you explain. “I didn’t see the news coverage of what happened until afterwards and I felt awful. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, I genuinely had no idea.”

Shrugging, he plays it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.” It’s hard to miss his sudden change in attitude from the interview you watched moments ago and you can’t help but wonder whether he has your or the watch’s presence to thank.

There is a brief moment of silence between you both before he continues. “How much did you pay for it?”

“It was so cheap, honestly,” you say. “Nothing compared to the original price, I’m sure.”

Charlotte, alerted by Lando’s attention-grabbing reaction to being reunited by his watch, returns to where the two of you are standing. “Oh wow, did you find a replacement watch for him?” she asks you, clearly impressed by the apparent likeness.

“No, Charlotte”, he corrects her. “It’s my one. Look.” He hands the watch to his PR manager, who receives it so gently you think she’s afraid it might shatter in her hands. Flipping the watch between her fingers, she studies the small engraving on the underside of the face.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

Lando nods. “It’s the exact date it was given to me, there’s no way anyone else could know that and make a copy of it.”

You feel the need to justify yourself to her. “It was listed online and I bought it before I knew anything about the situation. I didn’t even really know who Lando was until I saw what happened on the news, I swear.” You anticipate her anger or disapproval, preparing yourself to withstand the lecture you’re about to receive and mentally promising that, as soon as it’s over, you can run back to your dad and tell him you just want to go home.

But it doesn’t come.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaims. “We all thought we’d never see it again and you found it on accident.” The smile she gives you sets your mind at ease. “Technically, this is a police matter now, so I’ll have to hand it over to the right people, but this helps us tremendously. Did you get any information about the seller?”

You explain the situation to her, about how the listing was taken offline but you have a printout of the messages and address the seller gave you, which you hand her from your bag. She lets you know that someone may get in touch soon to ask questions but not to worry, that it’s only a formality. Eventually, she asks if you’d like to watch free practice from a spot in the mobile hospitality unit, but you politely decline, explaining that you needed to get back to your dad in the Red Bull garage instead.

Charlotte smiles fondly at Lando and presses the brim of his cap down over his eyes. “Come on, you, we have to go and get ready now anyway.”

He takes off his hat, cheeks flushing as he makes an effort to quickly brush the curls lining his forehead, placing it back on and dismissing Charlotte with a wave of his hand. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

Once the two of you are alone, he pulls out his phone. “Do you have Venmo? I’ll pay you back, it’s not fair that you had to waste your money.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Lando seems unconvinced. “It’s really not a problem.”

“Seriously, it’s all good.”

“Well,” he continues awkwardly. “I have to go, but are you here for the whole weekend or...?”

You shake your head. “Just today. I’m not into Formula 1, I find it a little bit boring.”

“Seriously?! The fastest cars in the world and you’re calling it boring? Why even come to something like Silverstone if it’s so boring?” he feigns offense, doing air quotes as he imitates your apparent disdain for the sport.

Laughing quietly, you shrug. “I have family at Red Bull, so it was basically just luck and convenience that you were in the U.K. this weekend,” you clarify. “I don’t really understand Formula 1, that’s all.”

“Fair enough, it’s not for everyone I suppose,” Lando replies. “So who in your family works at Red–” The end of his question is drowned out by the sound of his name called by an evidently disgruntled, impatient engineer.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta go, but, um,” he exhales with a nervous laugh. “I still feel like I need to repay you in some way. Do you want to go get a drink after the race on Sunday? I’m busy for the next few days but Sunday night I’ll be free. Only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to, like, pressure you or anything.”

You laugh, appreciative that the nervousness was shared. “That– Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll give you my number.”

He types your details into his phone before apologizing once more, thanking you again, and rushing off into the garage.

——

On Sunday, you let your dad believe he’s the one who convinced you to stay for the entire race weekend, but it’s the promise of Lando’s company later that night and the endearing text messages on your phone that prompts the desire to see this weekend through. You had spent the previous nights on your phone, going through driver and team Instagram accounts, as well as the F1 website, to get an idea of what to expect. Typically, it would pain you to look through motorsport news pages, especially with so many of the reports centering around Max and his vie for the championship as of late, but you manage.

You notice almost immediately while settling into your spot at the back of the garage that the energy does not match your own. You are enthusiastic and eager, while the rest of the team is stressed and rushes around you. Presumably, it’s because race day impacts their livelihoods and paycheks whereas it only dictates your family’s dinner topics, but, nevertheless, your excitement refuses to simmer.

Unfortunately, if it was weird for you to be seen at the McLaren garage before the first free practice, it would be infinitely more suspicious for you to be lingering around on race day, so you were not able to catch Lando at all since your initial meeting on Friday. However, you made sure to message him good luck beforehand, to which he thanked you and expressed excitement for your upcoming night.

“If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be on the pitwall,” your dad says, snapping you out of your whirring mind. He notices your obscure behavior, quick to comment on it. “Is it weird? Being here after so long?”

You nod, shrugging. “Unusual, for sure. So much has changed since the last time I came and watched, but I’m excited, though.”

“Well, it’s always good to have you here.”

Reciprocating your dad’s grin, you silently send him on his way. He exits quickly and leaves you to your own devices. Though, your own devices look to consist of impatiently waiting for the race to start and scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Ironically, your boredom with pre-race antics appears to create quite the dichotomy against the chaos exuding from the garage you find yourself encompassed in.

Regardless, your attention is regained when frequent cuts are made to the drivers in their cars, and you recognise that the race will be starting soon. You are temporarily startled when the cars begin moving without hearing an official announcement, but quickly realisee that it is merely a formation lap and no one else around you seems to be paying all too much mind to it.

When the cars return to their positions on the grid, you watch eagerly as the lights flash and the announcers begin yelling. You keep your eyes trained on the orange car towards the front of the grid, watching Lando so intently that you almost miss what happens to the cars in front of him.

Your eyes go wide as you watch the events unfold: the Red Bull car out front collides with what you identify as a Mercedes, spinning and slamming into the barrier. Gasps chorus across the garage as the screens replay slowed clips of the crash as an announcement states that the safety car has been deployed. They replay it from every conceivable angle, your astonishment at the severity is present upon your first viewing, but it’s only after the sixth clip that it clicks in your head that the person in the car is Max.

“For the second time this season, Hamilton and Verstappen clash and tangle on the opening lap, but, this time, it is ending in dramatic consequences for the championship leader.”

If you had perceived the pre-race behavior in the garage as chaotic, this was a whole new level of absurdity.

People rush around you while orders are shouted and frustrations are verbalised.

Your dad is angry.

The last time you recall him behaving like this was when your younger sister had broken the wine glasses he had bought for your mother on their honeymoon. You, however, ignore his yelling and remain encapsulated by the TV, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the events unfolding finally, finally register in your brain.

Car number 33 is in the wall and out of the race, and your ex-boyfriend is inside, silent and unmoving.

____________

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

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dollslayer · 3 years

Text

Botanical Interest - In Bloom

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x florist!Reader

Summary: Steve comes home to you angry after a rough day at work. He made a promise to keep his work life separate but can he keep it?

W/C: 4,103

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past abuse, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

A/N: Hi there! A part three for our soft mob Steve and his lovely florist. Thank you so much to everyone that has shown interest in my work so far, if you like it please reblog and comment!! You can also check out my other stuff if you haven't yet. Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_____________

When Steve Rogers had asked you to be his girlfriend you knew there was a weight attached to it. A long talk over a stack of waffles and a couple of beers left Steve with a ‘yes’ and some ground rules.

After the incident in the alleyway you both agreed that he left his work at the door whenever you spent time together. Steve’s profession has made you uneasy since you met him and you two couldn’t avoid it forever.

A month later and you’ve managed to avoid conflict for the most part. Nothing as bold as that day in the alley, just small moments where he’d have to take a phone call, once when he had to cancel your plans for a ‘work incident’. But still he really was trying to keep his work and personal life separate and you appreciated it.

It had bothered you that he had to do those things but it’s not as though your work hadn’t impacted your time together either. Being a florist meant a lot of late nights when you worked events. Wedding season in full swing, every weekend was a busy one for you.

That’s why Monday’s have become almost sacred to you, your one day off a week. You and Steve always spent time together, sometimes you’d go out or stay home and just relax.

This Monday Steve had promised to come over and make you dinner. He’d only ever tried to cook for you once and it had ended with a lasagna burnt so badly you had to open every window in the apartment just to get the charred smell out. You couldn’t wait for him to redeem himself and take him to bed after you both came out of your food comas.

You were cleaning the kitchen when you heard your phone buzz. You had asked Steve if he wanted you to pick up any groceries since you had the day off. Expecting a list you were met with mild disappointment.

Running a little late, doll. 6:30 and not a minute later, I promise. Don’t worry about groceries. I'll get it all taken care of, just enjoy your day off.

You were kinda miffed but at least he gave you a heads up and he was going to get the groceries. You picked your sponge back up and scrubbed away at the counter.

________

Expecting to be let down, you were pleasantly surprised when 6:30 rolled around and your doorbell sounded. You buzzed him up and waited patiently for him at your door.

Steve appeared as he rounded the corner and he looked exhausted, irritated maybe. He carried a lot of tension in his shoulders and his suit jacket was long gone. His tie was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to where you could see well toned forearms. You bit your lip thinking of those arms holding you in place in bed.

Maybe we should just ditch the dinner and skip straight to dessert.

He approached you and you leaned up to give him a kiss.

“Hi, honey. How are you?” You greeted him as you shut the door behind you.

He set the groceries down onto the counter with some force and you winced. Okay so he did have a rough day. Do I ask him about it? I don’t wanna talk about his work but I don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to me about his day.

He sighed and turned to face you, took his tie off completely and ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it” he responded as he took a beer out of your fridge.

You were off-put by the abruptness of his answer. Maybe he was just short with you because he didn’t want to talk about work.

You stepped closer and tried to approach him again.

“I-“

“I said don’t worry about it.” Steve snapped, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen, visibly annoyed. “I gotta take this”. He slammed the door to your bathroom shut behind him and left you stunned in the middle of your kitchen.

What just happened? You had never seen him so upset aside from when you caught him mid-punch a month ago with Mr. Andersen.

Realistically you knew it wasn’t you he was mad at but you’d never done well with people when they were mad at you. You were engaged years ago to a man that was abusive towards you. Things had started off well like they always do but he became manipulative and he was quick to anger. You were constantly questioned and criticized. He kept you from seeing your friends, even some of your family. It took your friends coming through for you to get you out of the situation safely. Through lots of therapy and flinging yourself headfirst into your business you’ve come a long way but sometimes you had difficult moments.

It couldn’t be helped as your heart began to quicken and you felt heat come to your face from the embarrassment of being snapped at. Unsure what to do you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat down at your small dining table facing away from the bathroom.

You were trying to get yourself to not shut down in response to his change in mood but it was hard. He’s upset and clearly irritated with me already, he probably just wants to go home. Maybe you should just reschedule. Don’t cry, if you cry you’re gonna make it a whole Thing. Don’t cry. He’s not mad at you specifically and it’s not your fault.

In the torrent of your thoughts you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Steve hadn’t spared you a glance or a word as he started unloading the groceries. Angrily placing a jar of pasta sauce onto your counter with a thud and muttering under his breath. You watched him timidly and took another sip of your wine.

He turned to you and took another swig of his beer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” He challenged.

Not wanting him to be upset with you, you devolved into old ways of over-explaining so you could justify your actions. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the rational part was telling you it’s not your fault he’s angry and you don’t owe an explanation but you were too far gone.

“I, I just, you didn’t do anything you just, um, you just looked upset. I don’t want to make it worse, I’m sorry. I was just looking at you, I didn’t mean to-”

You were cut off in the midst of your nervous rambling by the shrill ring of Steve’s phone. A frustrated growl escaped his mouth.

“I have to take this,” he muttered as he strode back to the bathroom. “I told you not to call me until you had it fixed” you heard him before the closing of the door muffled his anger.

He left you there to stew in your nervousness and self loathing. Five minutes had gone by and the rational part of your brain was slowly taking over. The rational part of your brain was angry. It’s okay for him to have a bad day and not want to talk about it but the way he’s spoken to you and responded to you isn’t warranted. You needed to confront him calmly and if he was still angry you needed to ask him to leave. You can talk to him another time but not while he’s angry. It won’t do anyone any good. Just like you’ve talked about in therapy.

You rehearsed the lines in your head and finished your glass. You heard the door open again and almost threw everything you had been going over in your head out the window. Just breathe. It’s fine, he calmed down so quickly after that time in the alley, he’ll understand.

_____

Steve was angry. With Clint for getting the dates of Pierce’s arrival wrong, with Sam for failing to get the recon they needed to get the drop on him. Even angrier with Bucky for taking all of this out on him when it wasn’t even his fault. But most of all he was angry with himself for letting his work get in the way of your time together. He promised you undivided attention and you deserved it.

He knew how important your day off was to you and after the day he’d been having he couldn’t wait to just come back to you. He just wanted to make some decent spaghetti and melt the worries of his day off with your embrace. He craved the physical comfort he got from you after a long day. The feeling of endlessly sinking into your arms while you held him in bed allowed him to be the vulnerable one for once. He never felt comfortable enough with any of the other women he’d dated to even entertain the idea of being the little spoon.

He always suspected that who he was at work was almost the only reason any of the other women had even gone out with him. Who he was at work was almost a front for the art-loving, touch-starved, hopeless-romantic that he was when he let himself relax. They’d all just wanted this big burly man who was always in charge, a walking wall of muscle and testosterone that they had seen and heard of him to be when he was on the job. But when he was on his own time he just wanted to feel comfort more than anything.

He just wanted to melt into you.

That’s why he was eager to get to you today but the constant calls were cutting him to his last nerve. Bucky was out with Natasha and her parents so he specifically asked not to be called. Being the boss, Bucky was not to be bothered. Being second in command, Steve was.

When he hung up with Clint he exited the bathroom and walked straight past you without a word, knowing you didn’t want to hear about work and talking about it would just make him angrier. He started unloading the grocery bag with maybe a bit more vigor than was necessary.

Remembering he had opened a beer that was probably warm by now he turned to you and grabbed it off the table you were sat at. At this moment he looked up and you had this look on your face he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to know what was up so he asked but you just ended up stammering out a response that didn’t make much sense.

He was trying to listen to you, he really was but he just couldn’t work around this building anger, couldn’t let it go. So of course his phone rings again. And of course he takes it. Excusing himself and locking the bathroom door behind him again he was already forming how to lay into his men on the other line without raising his voice and alarming you too much.

“I told you not to call me unless you had it fixed” he seethed into the receiver. Steve pounded his fist against the porcelain of your sink in aggravation. “I’m not fucking coming down there tonight. I shouldn’t have to be taking fucking phone calls to solve this kinda shit when I’m with my girl. Lose their tail, re-track them, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning. Don’t call me again unless someone fucking gets shot”, Steve hung up abruptly and took a deep breath.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say to you so he just waited a minute to collect himself. He took another deep breath and readied himself to go back to you.

_________

You were sitting quietly at the table, silently digging your nails into your palm as you tensed your fist. Steve had exited the bathroom and taken a seat across from you. You decided to see if he’d speak first and waited.

A beat of silence and you sighed deeply, readying yourself to talk to him like you’d planned.

“Steve, I understand you’re having a bad day and it’s probably work related. That being said, just because you’re mad at someone else doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me” You blew out a shaky breath, wanting to finish before you lost your nerve and before he interjected. You didn’t dare make eye contact. Only stared at his hands on the table in front of you.

“If- if you’re mad don’t take it out on me, and if you feel like you can’t control that anger I don’t want you around me while you feel that way. If you want to talk through it or just work past it then I’m here. But if you’re going to snap at me again and just be mad then you need to leave. It’s not fair to me.”

I’m pretty sure Dr. Danforth would be fucking proud of me right now. Straight to the point but respectful, just like we talked about. And even if Steve’s mad, you’re in control. You’re doing great.

You braved a peek at his face at this point and he looked stunned himself. He’s probably never been spoken to like that in his life, being the second in command and all. You watched his brows bunch together in what you hoped was thought and not frustration for you and waited for him to speak.

________

Oh. Steve was a little struck by what you’d said. Have I been that bad? She’s shaking like a leaf, of course I must have been that bad. He’d had no idea that he even snapped at you, that’s how wrapped up in his own business and his head he was. He never meant to take it out on you, didn’t even realize he had. Sometimes it was like he was so deep into his work life he couldn’t take himself out of it. But he wanted to try, for you.

He remained silent while he pulled the chair across from you out and took a seat. He looked up to meet your gaze only to find you staring at your hands. You were digging your nails into your palms so he brought one large warm hand to cover yours and brought the other up to your face gently to get you to look at him. You flinched away from him and he felt another strike of surprise, but also maybe a hint of shame. Is she afraid of me? Normally Steve likes when people are afraid of him, makes his job easier, but he’d never want that from you.

“Sweetheart”, Steve’s voice was just above a whisper when you finally looked up at him.

“I’m… sorry, that’s really it I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I didn’t even realize I did.” He apologized.

____________

You could feel your tears subsiding and finally brought yourself to look at him. He looked just as exhausted before, just a little bit more sad. You imagined it was probably easy for him to get swept up in who he was at work so it must be hard to separate himself from it since it requires so much from him. You don’t want him to feel bad for being upset, you just want him to be more aware of himself and to not take things out on you.

“Steve, I know we said you wouldn’t talk about work when we’re together but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me if you have a bad day. Maybe you can keep it vague but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say anything or be yourself, unless of course you don’t want to, I don’t want to force you to talk about anything either. When you snapped at me I just sorta shut down” You explained.

Steve seemed to be processing your words and forming a response when he took your hand in his to stop your nails from ripping into your palms like they often do. He nodded and took a breath.

“You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, thank you. Just for the record, I never feel like I can’t be myself with you, it’s opposite, really. When I’m with you I get to drop all that bullshit at the door. Girls in the past have just wanted me because I was scary but seeing the way you flinched just now, I don’t ever want you to feel scared of me.” Steve confessed.

Maybe it’s time to tell him about the engagement, let him know where you’re coming from. You blew out a shaky breath and looked away from him again.

“I, um, I’m not scared of you. Years ago I was engaged to a man and things were really bad, he was really bad. I’m not ready to talk about all of it but that’s why I shut down on you when you snapped. I’ve been through a lot of therapy and I’m still working on it, but I’m not afraid of you. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it’s… kind of a sore subject” you admitted.

Steve’s nostrils flared and his grip on your hand tightened a little but you could tell he was trying everything he could to school his features and reply to you.

“I… didn’t know that I’m sorry.” he said as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. “If you ever wanna talk about it more, I’m here. And if you don’t, I understand.”

You stood from your chair and came around behind him to throw your arms around his neck. You kissed his cheek and rested your head against his.

“Thank you for listening and apologizing. I forgive you. And if you wanna talk about your day then I’m here.” You assured him.

Steve turned his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss which you reciprocated. Steve stood to his full height without breaking the kiss and brought his hands up to frame your face. The warmth was comforting again to you. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and he elicited the softest of sighs before returning your passion.

He broke the kiss while his hands explored your curves. “I want to make it up to you, will you let me do that, sweetheart?” he asked.

You could only look up at him with eyes blown wide with lust and affection. You nodded and he kissed you swiftly before leading you to your bedroom. You were holding his hand when he let go and softly urged you backwards onto the bed. You obliged and soon he was on top of you laying feather-light kisses to the column of your neck.

Your hands mussed his hair and smoothed out the tension in his shoulders as you held onto him. He kissed his way lower and lifted up the hem of our shirt and kissed his way back up to your breasts. You sat up slightly and took off your top and unhooked your bra, letting it fall before throwing it to the side. Steve took turns taking your nipples between his teeth and teasing them, licking and kissing them. He knew it always made you squirm and would build the anticipation before you could even touch him.

“Steve, please.” You whined.

Wordlessly he kissed and bit his way lower and undid your shorts. You arched your back to help him remove them along with your panties. Steve wasted no time and administered the smallest of licks to your clit. You gasped slightly at the feeling when you felt two fingers prodding your entrance before going in. Your body was getting accustomed to the initial wave of pleasure brought on by Steve’s movement and slowly you ground your hips against his hand and cried out softly.

Normally Steve would never let that fly, he was always so controlling and dominant in bed but tonight was different. Tonight was soft and he was making it up to you, showing his love in a physical way. So he let you push him deeper and raise your hips just so to reach the perfect angle. You felt yourself tighten around him and this is the point he usually slows down just to drag things out but your loud cries only fueled him as he doubled his efforts. With a final cry you came around his fingers, white heat blinding your vision momentarily.

You caught your breath and looked down at Steve. His beard was absolutely drenched and he sucked his fingers clean. You could almost cum again just from the sight of it. He wiped his mouth on a tissue before returning to you to give you a kiss. You tasted yourself on him but you didn’t care, you just wanted his mouth on yours. You felt his erection pressing against your thighs and it had you squirming all over again. You reached to undo his belt when he stopped you.

“This night is supposed to be about you, doll. I’ll be fine” He protested.

You shook your head at him. “I want you, all of you. Please, Steve”, you begged.

He nodded and undid his belt. You helped undress and when he was finally naked you felt the rush of heat to your core all over again, an itch you couldn’t scratch. You laid back further on the bed and soon he was above you, face inches from yours and one arm at the side of your head.

His cock nudged against your core and entered slowly to stretch you out. You moaned deeply and when he was all the way in he kissed you passionately and began moving. It didn’t take much for him to pick up the pace as he started to fuck you. He swore under his breath at the feeling of you.

“You’re so, so, good sweetheart. So fuckin’ good.” He praised.

His words made you keen as you let the feeling of him making love to you take you over completely. His lips grazed yours in between grunts and he moved one hand to your clit while the other cradled the back of your head. You held onto his shoulders tightly and sobbed out pleas for him to keep going. His thrusts picked up speed and so did his hand. You were so close to the edge and you could feel he was too.

“I love you” he panted out before his hips lunged forward into you one last time before he came inside of you.

The shock of his confession and his work on your clit triggered your second orgasm. It was powerful and had you clawing his back and gasping in pleasure. He’d never said that before. Did he mean it? You looked to him for the answer but his lips caught yours as he gave a few last lazy thrusts. He finally collapsed to your side and was heaving to catch his breath.

You both laid there basking in the afterglow of the makeup sex for a few minutes. You turned on your side to look at him. He was so perfect like this, so at ease.

“Did you.. Mean it? What you said?” You questioned nervously. You really wanted him to mean it.

He turned slowly to look at you and he was blushing. “Yeah, I did. I know it’s kind of soon and you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t help it. I love you” he confided.

“I love you too, I’m not just saying it cause I feel like I have to, I love you Steve Rogers. All of you.” you assured him.

The softest of kisses was laid on your lips. This moment with him was perfect.

“I can’t believe you love me. I’m so sorry about earlier. I feel so comforted when I’m with you, the last thing I want is to lose you. I promise I will do everything I can to never be like your ex. Ever. If I’m being a dick I want you to tell me,” He apologized again.

You were about to respond when his stomach let out the loudest groan. You both laughed as you sat up.

“I did promise you dinner. Unburned this time!” Steve pledged as he helped you gather up your clothes.

“That’s a promise I’m going to hold you to, Rogers.”

#steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #Mob!Au #mafia!au #soft!Mob!Steve Rogers #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #botanical interest

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anonymousfiction211 · 3 years

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Give it time: ch3

A/N: I got in the flow and decided to write the last chapter anyway. Enjoy :)

Click here for chapter 1 Click here for chapter 2

Helping a ‘friend’ ‘Hey, (Y/N). You’re up early’ Steve greeted her, happy to see her without the egotistical God by her side.

‘Morning Steve’ she said with a hint of sadness in her voice. Something was wrong, he could tell.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. He was hoping that Loki would have slipped yesterday and that they had a fight. If they had broken up, it surely would make reaching his goal easier. He felt a little bad about manipulating her, it was not something he would normally do. But she was too oblivious to see that Loki is bad for her, she deservers better, much better.

‘Can we talk for a moment?’ she asked him.

‘Of course!’ he replied, he was growing anxious. Maybe Loki had said or done something to paint him in a bad light. He had to admit that it was extremely difficult to manipulate the God, or outsmart him. He followed her to the living room where they sat down on the couch. Steve immediately noticed the distance between them, which was larger than usual.

‘You know that Loki has some trouble with us hanging out. And last night it became worse. So, I think it is best to maybe keep some distance between us for some time. At least until Loki sees that there is nothing going on’ she told him.

‘(Y/N) if that’s what you really want, of course! I can’t say I will not miss you, but I never want to come between the two of you’ he replied, trying hard not to grit his teeth or to let the disdain of Loki show.

‘Yeah, I’ll miss you too. But I think I need some time to work on the relationship. We soon will be taking some time of to go away for a weekend. And after Loki is comfortable it all will go back to normal’ she smiled.

‘It’s always a good idea to work on your relationship. But if I can be honest, I am starting to grow a little concerned’ Steve replied, hoping to cause some doubt in her mind about the relationship.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Well, what if he never comes around? What if instead of working through his issues he just finds another guy to be jealous of? I mean, he is basically deciding who you can and can’t hang out with and I don’t think that is right. That shouldn’t happen in a healthy relationship. He has nothing to worry about, but what if one day there is a guy he should worry about? What will he do then?’ She explained.

Steve saw the wheels in her head turning. She probably would go through with the plan she had, but he knew in the back of her mind these words would linger. ‘Like I said, I don’t want to come between the two of you. But maybe something to watch out for’ he added, before it became too obvious what he was trying to do.

‘Eh.. yeah. Thanks for your concern, I’ll watch out’ she hesitantly replied, still deep in thought about his words.

‘But I have one favour the ask’ he said.

‘I actually have a date next week and I wanted to cook risotto. Your favourite if I’m not mistaking. And I was hoping I could practice tonight and you would eat with me? Tell me if it is any good?’ he asked.

‘Oh, ehm.. I don’t know with Loki..’ she started, but Steve interjected.

‘I know, but you know I can’t go to anyone else for this. Loki has to go on a mission anyway and will be gone. He never has to know! And after that you can work on your relationship. Please, I really need your help’ he whined putting on his best puppy-eyes.

He saw that she became uneasy, finding it hard to reject him. ‘Oh okay, but only if Loki is still gone and he doesn’t find out. It will be one of the last things we will do together for some time.’

‘Yes of course! Thank you so much (Y/N)’ Steve replied happily. All right, one down, one more to go he thought.

After the conversation she went off to work. They would meet at dinner time in the kitchen and eat there. Steve had already bought everything he needed for tonight. He would cook, reminisce and the two of you would drink some wine. Hopefully her guard would be down and then the tricky part. He had to plan his next move the moment Loki figured out what was really going on. Thinking of Loki, Steve needed to get him away from her for the rest of the day.

After waiting for a while Loki finally made it out of bed. Steve had to supress a grin when he saw how hung-over he was.

‘Good morning, Loki’ Steve said with a loud voice.

Loki flinched and really didn’t look happy to see Steve.

‘What do you want’ he grumbled while making some coffee for himself.

‘I have a mission for you’ Steve said.

‘What is it?’ Loki snapped.

‘We suspect that some of our opponents are using a form of magic we never encountered before. I was hoping you would go to the Sanctuary and find out everything about it. Since you are the one with the most knowledge about magic’ he explained, hoping to distract Loki with some flattery. Loki was intrigued and Steve started to tell him all he knew. It was true that there were rumours about this, but it was probably false. Anyway, it could wait months before they researched it but he needed Loki gone for today. He had figured that the best way to manipulate the God is not by lying, but by telling the truth and implying. That way Loki had a feeling he was lying, but could never be sure.

‘That is going to take all day…’ Loki grumbly replied when Steve was done talking.

‘I know, but it is important to know. Plus, maybe it would take your mind off things with (Y/N)’ he said.

That cleared Loki’s head and Steve knew he had to be careful know and do it exactly as rehearsed.

‘What do you mean?’ Loki growled at him.

‘Oh sorry, I thought she had told you’ he replied. Not a lie, he actually expected her to tell Loki about their dinner tonight.

‘We spoke this morning and I told her that I didn’t want to come between the two of you. But I invited her to dinner tonight. She probably didn’t tell you because she doesn’t want to worry you. I mean, it probably means nothing, but you know about our history’ he said. It was word for word the truth, maybe in the wrong order. But it implied a whole different story than what happened this morning.

Steve was startled when Loki grabbed him by his throat and pinned him to the wall behind him. For a moment he forgot that Loki, even tough he was good now, was still a very dangerous person if he was angered. Loki started to rant about all the ways he would kill him if he ever lay his eyes on her.

‘You know she would never forgive you if you killed me’ Steve reacted to Loki’s rant.

With a growl Loki let go of Steve’s throat. ‘Look, if you want you can confront her. Just come by tonight’ Steve said.

Loki narrowed his eyes at him. Probably trying to figure out what game Steve is playing. This was not something Loki saw coming.

‘FINE’ he growled. ‘I see the two of you at six’ he angrily added.

‘Actually, it would be better if you were here at seven’ Steve replied. Carefully picking his words, trying not to reveal the fact that she would be here at six.

At dinner Steve had cooked and she arrived right on time. He had only an hour before Loki would be back and storm inside. He needed to execute his plan right before he could, otherwise she would find out about his manipulation. He was smart enough to have a camera in the hallway which he monitored from his mobile phone. Giving him a head start when Loki would arrive. Currently he was focusing on her telling stories. The two of them were laughing and drinking. After about half an hour he was reminiscing about the past, dropping subtle hints about their last date.

He was still slapping himself mentally for not giving her a chance then. When he finally saw how amazing she was, she just started to date Loki. The thought angered Steve, but after tonight he would have time to win her over. And he was not going to let her go, it would be the best for everyone involved. Even though his methods were questionable, it was the right thing to do.

Every time her wine glass was empty he filled it back up again. He needed her reaction time to slow down and needer her off guard. Five minutes before seven he saw Loki angrily walking through the lobby. So, Steve said his plan in motion.

‘(Y/N) if you don’t mind I need your help some more’ he started. He scooched closer against her and grabbed her hand. He looked into her eyes and met her half-drunk gaze. The door swung open, he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her. With one eye open he saw the hurt expression on Loki’s face. For a split-second Loki froze, before storming away. (Y/N) pushed herself away from Steve.

‘What the hell?’ she yelled.

‘I’m sorry. It’s just I really wanted to kiss her and my last kiss was you. So, I wanted to know, you know what to do’ Steve quickly explained.

He saw her angry expression, he needed to distract her. He needed her heartbroken so he could be there for her. ‘I think Loki just saw us’ he said.

He watched her expression change from anger to shock. She quickly stood up and ran towards Loki’s bedroom. Steve slowly walked after her. He heard her call Loki’s name, it sounded like she was crying. It broke his heart, but it needed to be done. She needed to be free of him. He walked into the bedroom to saw her pace around frantically with a note in her hand. She was still crying. He took the note from her.

I can’t believe I ever trusted you

Steve had to supress an eye-roll. Loki was always too dramatic for his taste. Both of their head turned towards the yard when they heard a familiar sound. She ran past Steve to the yard and he followed her again. When he caught up with her she was sitting on her knees in the middle of the burned grass. Steve immediately recognized the pattern. Loki had taken the Bifrost and was gone, just like Steve expected that he would. He slowly walked beside her and sat down on his knees too.

‘I’m so sorry (Y/N). I never meant for this to happen! As soon as I can, I will talk to Thor and tell him about what happened’ Steve started to comfort her. He pulled her closer against his chest, she was still sobbing. She was so wrapped up in her pain that she couldn’t see what was really going on. Steve meant what he said. As soon as Thor would be back he would explain himself, knowing that Thor was probably livid with Steve after hearing Loki’s version of events. But Thor wouldn’t be in Asgard for another three months, so he would be back here in about four months. Which gave Steve four months to make (Y/N) forget about Loki and to start dating her. He would make Loki the bad guy in the story, after she believes him Thor would too. Then Loki would just look like the jealous ex-boyfriend. Making Loki the bad guy isn’t that hard, he is the God of Lies after all he thought while comforting (Y/N). They sat like that for a while. And Steve couldn’t help but feel relieved that Loki was far away, while she was in his arms.

Permanent tag list: @delightfulheartdream @the-best-phineas @theaudacitytowrite @pescadoavocado @theestorm

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blackcherrykiss · 3 years

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BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.5)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4] previous chapters

[CH.6] next chapter (now available!)

genre: vampire au, romance, drama, mystery, thriller

note: written inspired by enhypen's storyline, given-taken lyrics & teasers. please keep in mind all members are apart of this fanfic and the main theme is mystery/drama!

P.S Niki and Sunoo's roles become bigger in later chapters :) sorry I took 2 weeks to update. School + new enhypen teasers made me alter the story now jesus their lore is confusingly interesting. Didn't proofread half of this chapter LOL. Happy readings <3

"Well now that everyone is here, I'd like to announce we have a new student who just transferred here." Your eyes were immediately drawn to the student's platinum blonde hair. Despite his sharp and charismatic face, his eyes were delicate and innocent. He had an exceptionally small face and a sunkissed skin tone. The new student snapped himself around so that the entire classroom got a good look at him, "Hello, my name is Park Jongseong or Jay, call me whatever you feel." He bowed slightly, his voice having a cool ring that played over in your head.

"Everybody please welcome Jay to our astronomy class. Lend him any of our previous notes because midterms are coming up and I'd appreciate as a teacher if you guys helped him catch up before our long weekend coming up in two weeks." Your teacher gave a warm smile, nodding in such a way that made the rest of the class nod with her.

Without a student saying a word, everyone's eyes followed him as he took a seat at a desk a couple of rows in front of you.

You stared at him tirelessly, barely listening as your teacher rambled off-topic. You noticed Jay often stared out at the crying sky that occasionally flickered with lightning. His eyes focused intently on the woods. You were sure you weren't the only one who was interested in the new boy as you frequently caught other students glancing over at him every few seconds. Jay carried an attractive and dark aura that clearly contrasted from the crowd. Both girls and boys stared at him not because of his pretty face but because he was far different from the new students who had joined your school mid-semester.

The class flew by for you because of Jay until a simple but intriguing question was purposed by the teacher, "Bonus marks today if anyone can guess when the next full moon is." she lifted her eyes off the projector for a few moments, waiting for answers to come sailing.

"Saturday?" Somebody from the front called out, followed by numerous answers that ranged between the second week to the fourth week of the month.

"Come on now. Don't blurt out, give others chances to guess. Jay why don't you guess?" Your teacher questioned welcomingly, expecting no answer from him.

He leaned back in his chair, scraping the non-writing end of his ballpen on his thumb, "November 30." A gentle sound of thunder playing perfectly when he said the answer; like some sort of scene out of a comic.

"Ding ding ding!" Your teacher switched to a PowerPoint slide with the new unit name bolded, "I know this isn't part of the curriculum but I got it approved by the head of the school." She took a breath, giving students time to comprehend what was presented in front of them. "Our next unit will be looking deeper at the moon. More specifically, we'll be looking at both the sciency and non-sciency sides of this topic. And before anyone asks; no, you don't need to believe in astrology or superstitions to understand the non-sciency material. It's just very fascinating because it connects to many cultures." Your attention was now far away from Jay. You were enthusiastic about a topic for once in the class.

"And looks like we're running out of time." Your teacher's wrist clock blocking her eyes. "That's it for today's class everyone! I'll have your projects marked for next class, I promise! Have a good day." She said while shutting off the projector.

You slid all your handouts into your binder, not bothering to align the three-hole punches of the papers to their designated rings.

"Y/N before you go, do you mind helping out Jay? Today or tomorrow?" Your teacher stopped you on your way out.

"Like lend him my notes?"

"Yep! I just forgot to ask but he just left so you might be able to catch up to him. Maybe ask if he's got the notes yet."

You waved your goodbyes and chased the new boy down, his uniquely blonde hair standing out from the hallway of heads. You picked up the pace to catch up with his swift steps when you caught him chatting with Sunghoon and Jaeyun. Your feet froze straight down in their place.

Were they new friends? Or perhaps they were old friends?

You weren't going to bother talking to Jay as you already knew what kind of funny business would come up if you did. You could only watch them swing and lean their arms against each other in a close and friendly way. The picture was becoming more and more clear to you as to what kind of association Jay had with Sunghoon and Jaeyun perhaps even Heeseung, Sunoo or Jungwon.

...

You throw yourself violently over your thick mattress after finishing a long study and homework session at your dorm. The session wasn't productive but the time you spent surrounded by your schoolwork made it feel that way. Your dorm was awfully quiet that afternoon as your dormmates had music rehearsals for their extracurriculars. Nana had told you to come by the music rooms around a quarter past five when their practice was over to go down to the dining hall and have dinner but you couldn't think of a way to kill your remaining hour alone.

Phones were forbidden in your school and you often felt uncontrollably alone and bored with your thoughts during your free time. You could only lay tangled in your bed with your half progressed work in the corner of your eye. You shift on one side to watch your wide-open binder until you got some burst of motivation to finish studying until an idea hits you.

After eyeing your handouts from your astronomy class, you decide to hit the library and do some reading to get a little advanced in the class. Sure you could study for your other class but the sudden idea was far more worth your time in your mind. You quickly twirl out of your room, clearing your desk while you're at it. Excitedly, you hop into your shoes and head straight for the library. You were put in a good mood as you skipped along the long journey to the bookhouse.

The library was moderately packed as you don't bother to recognize any faces there. You get deja vu as you trail the same path you did when Sunghoon and Kyungeun were around. Sliding between the thin space between the bookshelves once again, you search for the section related to the moon, feeling dizzy at the sight of books your school owned. You could've made your life easier by asking the librarian but you were confident you could find it on your own. You move up and down the aisles as you catch a glimpse of theoretical and astrology related books that sit next to a couple of history books.

Backing up, you awkwardly bend your knees forward to get a better look at the small selection of books under the genre. You peel a random book spine out from its tight spot as if it had never been taken out before. You dust off the book a bit, reading the wordless cover and open it to check if it was really related to any sort of astronomy as you find a much stranger subject being discussed.

"Finding everything alright?" The librarian comes by, pushing a kart from the other end of the shelves. "I-I'm looking for books related to the moon." You say, standing up and forgetting you still had the old book in hand.

"The scientific information is just on the other side of this shelf but the section you were just looking at has some interesting stuff that might be related." The librarian stuffed herself in between the shelves to get toward you.

"Yeah, I noticed... This book I just picked up was talking about vampires." You laugh a little as you hold it up.

"Ah, that book..." She paused, snatching the book out of your hands to examine it, "I read this before... It relates to astrology. I think there are some parts of the book that go into detail about the moon, you should give it a read."

"Is this book just theoretical research about vampires though?" You were unconvinced with the idea.

"Yeah, real or not, our school grounds and the neighbouring town are talked about in the book. Apparently many years ago this place used to be a hotspot for vampires." She looked you dead in the eyes.

"Do you think the information is true?" You questioned with deep curiosity upon her answer.

"Some information in there is haunting. I think vampires did exist." She said with some sort of distress beginning to seep into her face.

Shivers ran down your spine, if she was just trying to sell you the book, it was working damn well on you.

"I'll leave you be, no need to sign out the book, nobody ever takes it out so I trust you'll return it." And with that said, she left you cold with mystery as the book between your fingers stared at you with big round eyes.

You shake back to reality, checking your wrist just to find out your time has vanished. You shift your priorities to getting to the music department, throwing the book into your bag without much thought.

...

The sun was already going down around the afternoon as the days got shorter with autumn blossoming. You're standing between rooms full of beautiful voices and instruments, peering through every window attached to a door in an attempt to find your roommates. The issue was the widows didn't give much of a view as to who was in the rooms. But your ears were drawn to a gentle piano that played a bittersweet melody beneath the louder sounds of people singing in a harmonious glee. As you move in the forward direction of the hallway, the piano gets clearer to your ears. It became clear that the sound was coming out of a room with its door wide open. Your back attached it to the wall in fear of being seen as slide yourself until you meet the spine of the door where you could see into the shadowy room.

Your eyes lit up when they see a familiar platinum blondie behind the keys. The melody was enchanting and was played in such a personal way as the sounds escaped into the noisy environment where it hoped to go unheard. Jay had reached the final notes of his song as he turned his head in your direction. It was as if he knew of your present from the moment you started watching him from the doorway.

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allthingsfangirl101 · 3 years

Text

Broken Heart Part 2–Troy Bolton

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Troy's POV

I sighed when it went to voicemail again. I took a shaky breath as I left my message.

"Hey, Y/N," I said shakily. "It's. . . It's me. Again. Yesterday, you said that you had something to tell me but you never showed up. At least, I don't think you ever showed up. . . I thought I saw you. . . Y/N, were you there? I could've sworn. . ."

I sighed as I pulled my phone away but didn't hang up. I took a shaky breath before putting my phone back to my ear.

"Y/N, at least let me know you're okay. Please? You ran out at lunch, I didn't see you the rest of the day, and now you're ignoring my calls. . . I miss you. Call me back."

I hung up the phone and angrily tossed it onto my bed. Over the past couple of weeks, it's felt like Y/N has started pulling away from me. I spent the next hour trying to figure out why my best friend would be pulling away. When I couldn't figure it out, I called Chad.

"Random question for you," I said as soon as he answered.

"Okay," he laughed.

"Is there any reason that Y/N would be mad at me?"

My curiosity went crazy the longer it took for him to answer. "Did I do something?" I asked, breaking the silence. "It wasn't the team, right? I know Jeremy used to try and ask her out but you and I shut that down. At least I thought we did. Is he bugging her again?"

"I don't think it's Jeremy," Chad sighed.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know, man."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," he chuckled awkwardly. "Out of the two of us, you'd be the one to know what's going on in Y/N's head. Not me."

"That's the thing," I mumbled. "I don't know."

* * * * *

I was helping my mom clean up dinner when my phone rang. My mom watched as I pulled it out of my pocket, my breath getting caught in my throat.

"Everything okay?" She asked.

"Y/N's finally calling me back," I said as I ran out of the room. I closed my door and answered my phone as quickly as I could.

"Hi," I answered, out of breath from running upstairs.

"You okay?" Y/N asked, chuckling slightly.

"Yeah," I said, clearing my throat. "When I saw it was you calling, I ran upstairs so. . ."

"Oh, okay."

I listened to her breathing, neither one of us saying anything. The worry I felt earlier intensified when she didn't start talking.

"I'm really glad you called me back," I said, my voice soft. "I've been freaking out all weekend."

"Why?"

"Because you haven't called me back," I stuttered. "You ran out of lunch on Friday. You basically disappeared after rehearsal. Then you didn't show up at our treehouse and I haven't heard anything from you since. I tried calling you last night and. . . I was worried."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she tried to dismiss. "I should go. Bye, Troy."

"Wait!" I said louder than I meant to. I knew that if I hung up, I most likely wouldn't be able to get her to answer another call.

"Y/N?" I said tentatively. "Please talk to me. I know something's going on. I just don't know what it is. Why won't you talk to me?"

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Well," I awkwardly cleared my throat. "Why did you leave so suddenly during lunch? Then, I didn't even see you after rehearsal. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said again.

"Y/N," I sighed. "Those two words, from you, mean you're holding something back. What's really going on, Y/N?"

"It's nothing," I stuttered. "I have to go. Bye, Troy."

"If it's nothing, then tell me," I said quickly.

I heard her sigh, as she started to explain, "I wasn't feeling that well on Friday. At lunch, I thought I was going to throw up. It got worse the rest of the day. During rehearsal, I felt like I was going to pass out, so I headed home as soon as we were done."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, my voice soft. "I could've taken you home."

"I'm sorry," she sighed.

"It's okay," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "Next time tell me. I want to help you."

She didn't say anything else. I tried to start a conversation, but couldn't think of anything to say. My stomach felt weird when I realized this wasn't us. We usually never struggled to find something to talk about.

"Y/N," I started to say.

"I gotta go," she rushed. "Bye, Troy."

"Why do you keep saying goodbye?"

"Because I can't do this anymore, Troy," she sighed.

"Do what?" I stuttered. I waited but the line was quiet. "Y/N, what's going on?"

I could hear her heavy breathing, struggling to hold back tears. I tried racking my brain for a reason she would be crying, but I came up empty. She always tells me what's going on, so why was she holding back on me now?

"Y/N," I said, harsher this time when she still refused to talk to me. "Please tell me what's going on."

"I'm in love with you."

I was frozen. Her words echoed as I struggled to wrap my head around what she meant.

"Y/N. . . I just. . . I didn't think. . . Oh. . ."

I heard Y/N let out a shaky breath as I struggled to find an appropriate response to her confession. My heart sank as she finally found her voice.

"I'm sorry, Troy," she said as she quickly hung up on me.

* * * * *

Reader's POV

Monday I was able to avoid Troy at school. We didn't have many classes together and the few that we did, he was on the other side of the room. I spent lunch in the theater, practicing our numbers. After school rehearsal was the only time I wouldn't be able to avoid him.

I had no idea how Troy would act around me now that I've told him how I feel. I subconsciously tightened my grip on my backpack as I walked into the theater.

"Hey, Y/N," Ryan greeted.

"Hi," I said quietly. Before I could walk past him, he stopped me.

"What's going on?"

I opened and closed my mouth, tears building. His eyes softened as he gently grabbed my shoulders, squeezing them reassuringly.

"Y/N," he whispered. "What's wrong?"

"I did something stupid," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Ryan asked gently.

"I told Troy I was in love with him last night," I blurted out. His eyes sank as he sighed and pulled me into his chest.

"I'm guessing he didn't say it back."

The tears officially started to fall as I buried my face more into Ryan's chest. He sighed as he tightened his arms around me.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," he whispered. "He doesn't deserve you."

We jumped apart when we heard the door open. While Ryan turned towards everyone walking in, I walked straight to the piano. I could feel Troy watching me as I got out the piano music. My heart sank when I noticed the song we were rehearsing today was the duet Troy and Gabriella were singing in the show.

"Alright," Mrs. Darbus said as she clapped her hands. "I've got my singers. Y/N, are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am." I nodded.

Without looking up, I started playing the song. I ignored the knot in my stomach and the lump in my throat as Troy and Gabriella started singing.

I got a lot of things I have to do. All these distractions Our future's coming soon. We're being pulled A hundred different directions, But whatever happens I know I've got you.

You're on my mind. You're in my heart. It doesn't matter where we are. We'll be alright, Even if we're miles apart.

All I wanna do Is be with you, be with you. There's nothing we can't do. I just wanna be with you, only you. No matter where life takes us, Nothing can break us apart. You know it's true. I just wanna be with you.

Oh yeah Just be with you Oh yeah, yeah

You know how life can be,

It changes over night. It's sunny then raining, But it's alright. A friend like you, Always make it easy. I know that you get me. Every time.

Through every up, Through every down, You know I'll always be around. Through anything, you can count on me.

All I wanna do Is be with you, be with you. There's nothing we can't do. I just wanna be with you, only you. No matter where life takes us, Nothing can't break us apart. You know it's true. I just wanna be with you.

I just wanna be with you.

I made the mistake of looking up as Troy kissed Gabriella. I glanced over to see Ryan, Kelsie, and Chad looking at me with sad eyes. I couldn't take the apologetic looks from everyone anymore.

I quickly stood up, the piano bench scraping against the floor. Kelsie and Ryan tried to get my attention, but I brushed past them. Troy just watched as I walked out of the theater.

Part 3

#troy bolton #troy bolton imagines #high school musical #zac efron #zac efron imagines #zac efron x reader

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ediths · 4 years

Text

All The Things I Didn’t Say

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: Exactly 3,443

Summary: You and Harry get into a fight and the things he never told you tear him up inside.

A/N: This is my first ever Harry fic, I hope you enjoy it! (Sorry if it sucks I tried) ~also thank you @fancyxholland for beta reading this, I cannot thank you enough love:)~

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It had been weeks since you last talked. You had been doing everything in your power to avoid the green eyed devil, scared that one simple glance in your direction could make you fall for him all over again. And that wasn’t something that you were ready for. You weren’t able to willingly put yourself in that position again.

You weren’t going to allow him to demolish your heart like he did the last time you saw him. You were still broken from then, and you really don’t know if you could handle another heartbreak, especially not this soon.

You hadn’t slept right since you split, not being used to his side of the bed being cold all the time. You washed the sheets and everything that smelled like him almost instantly after he left the house. You couldn’t bear to smell him all the time. You knew that keeping the scent of him lingering in your house would make you latch onto him even more than you already were.

You hadn’t eaten a proper meal in what feels like forever, your body barely having enough energy to get you to the bathroom.

It was safe to say that Harry left you broken. But can you really blame it all on him? Was it really justified of you to do so?

Maybe. He was the one that went off on you, yelled and screamed and hit every place he knew would tear you apart.

But maybe not. Maybe it was your fault. You hadn’t paid attention to him, not noticing that he was clearly hurting. You tried to push him into going out when he oh so clearly didn’t want to.

There was also the fact that you kicked him out, told him to get out of your face and to not come back, without even letting him explain himself.

You found yourself in front of the tv most days, not really paying attention to whatever was playing, just needing the background noise now that you didn’t have Harry to hum to you or to strum his guitar while working on new material.

Every single time you found yourself there, you let your mind wander. Let yourself believe that maybe he was missing you as much as you were missing him. That maybe he was thinking about you.

You were aware of the fact that wasn’t healthy, that the last thing you should be doing while trying to get over him was to let him run rampant in your mind, but you couldn’t help it.

He was your everything. He had been since the moment that you met him, his green eyes seemingly brightening every dark corner of your life. He made you feel like you could breathe fresh air for the first time ever. It was like you had always been breathing the same, a little labored but unnoticed because that’s how it always was, but then he came into your life and showed you everything that you had been missing.

It was worse now than it was before. This time, you knew what you were missing. The laboring breaths from before meeting him were coming back, but this time that’s all you could focus on. You were so used to feeling complete that it physically hurt to not be around him. To not have him to keep you company. To not be able to kiss his lips or hold him close.

Your life felt incomplete, so yeah, at times, you let your mind wander to the times when it felt like you weren’t going to fall apart from the slightest breeze.

God, he missed you. He pasted on a smile and acted like nothing was wrong around everyone, posing for the media, but the second he got home, everything was different.

Usually, he would either do his own hair - him being a fully capable adult and all - or you would do it for him, letting him enjoy the feeling of your fingers raking through his locks.

But now, the way his curls were done was a completely different story. He either had his hair stylist come over before he went out anywhere, or - more often that not - he went around looking disheveled.

Even though he had tried his best to hide it, those closest to him saw. Mitch caught the dark bags under his eyes. Sarah quickly caught onto the fact that when he was crying during rehearsals, it was because all of his songs were about you.

You had been his muse.

You were the inspiration behind everything that he did, and he no longer felt like he could function. You had been gone for all of a few weeks and he was falling apart, unable to pull himself back together.

The songs had stopped being written, the interviews had stopped being scheduled, his whole entire life came to a screeching halt. All because he no longer had you.

Not that he could blame you. You had every right to make him leave, to look at him and tell him to never think about you again. He was the one who took out all his anger at you, the one person he didn’t want to lose his cool to.

He had tried, he had done nothing but try for the entire time that you had been apart to do exactly what you had asked. To forget about you, to not think about you in the slightest.

He really did. But things didn’t work out that way. Every time that he had tried to write a song, he had ended up writing you a letter. There weren’t many, seeing as he had soon realized that they were going nowhere.

He knew that you didn’t want to talk to him, that you didn’t want to hear a word that came from him. If you really wanted him back, you would make the first move, that’s how you are, how you always have been.

So he wrote them and laid them on his desk, allowing them to haunt him every moment he was in their general vicinity.

All you wanted was to hear from him. It had been weeks, if he really wanted you back he would have reached out, Harry wasn’t the guy that just sat back and waited for things to come to him. He knew what he wanted and he went after those things with his eye on the prize, never stopping until he made his goal.

Which means that his goal wasn’t to get you back. Maybe he just really didn’t want you.

You couldn’t blame him for it, you had been distant and ignoring all his signs probably weeks before the fight. You made him think that you didn’t care and he was completely justified in wanting something else, something better, with someone that actually deserved him.

You knew him, however, he was going to make sure that you had moved on before he did, wouldn’t want to date someone else while you’re still heartbroken. The only problem with that is that you don’t know if you’ll ever be okay without him. Not a single part of you can see yourself moving on.

So you do what you do every time something goes wrong. You fake the happiness. You fake the fact that you’re okay. You plaster on a smile and hope that it’s believable enough to make people stop worrying.

A part of you knows that this won’t be enough this time, though, so you go the extra step. You block his number. If he tries to text, it won’t go through. That’s the only way that he can get ahold of you. He never used Instagram, knowing his messages to you could easily get lost in the thousands he gets from fans every single day.

It takes you a pretty long time, and a whole lot of willpower, but after you do block his only means of contact, it feels as if there’s a weight lifted off of your shoulders. It’s a lot easier to pretend to be happy if the thing that’s making you upset isn’t looming over your head.

Everything had been foggy since you made Harry leave, but this made at least one thing clear. You were going to be alright, at least a little more than you had been for the past few weeks. You may have to fake it for a little while, but the first step to feeling better had already been taken.

He was not going to be alright. His friends kept telling him that he would be, that she was just another girl in a sea of millions more. But that wasn’t true. They all knew it wasn’t true. They just wanted the old Harry back. They wanted their friend back.

The guy that used to go out every weekend with his friends and celebrate, if nothing else, surviving another week, was gone. Left behind was the shell of a man that was broken into a million pieces and being held together by the scotch tape that he called his fake smile.

He had gone out with his friends tonight, though. He had wanted them to have some fun and knew that they felt bad for doing so if he couldn’t have fun too.

He had filled himself with alcohol, taking shot after shot until your face was blurry in his mind. He had poured liquid courage into glass after glass until he found himself composing text messages to you and sending them. The only things left in his mind were what you would say and him hoping that his autocorrect was working well tonight.

I miss you, shouldn’t have blown up. I also should’ve contacted you earlier, was stupid not to God I love you so much, I can’t sleep without you, feels wrong laying in bed without you curled up next to me

He took another look at his phone, fighting to get through the blurr to see if you had received them. And to his horror, they weren’t going through. You had blocked him.

So he had his next drunken idea, he was going to send the letters. Actually, no, he was going to take you the letters.

But there was still one more that he needed to write.

You weren’t a good actor. You really tried, but your forced smile didn’t go unnoticed by your friends. They knew you, probably better than you know yourself, so when they look at you and give you smiles of pity and try to get you a new guy to hookup with, you know that you’re not doing well at convincing them in the slightest.

You can’t even bring yourself to contradict them. They’re right. You miss Harry. You miss his hugs and the way that his scent would cling to anything that he touched, even for a second. You missed the way his seafoam green irises would stare into your eyes as if you were the only person in the world. He would listen to you as if your words were more important than anything that he had ever heard.

Why didn’t you do the same?

Why didn’t you pay attention?

Why didn’t you see that he was hurting?

Or did you? Did you see it and just chose to ignore it, too caught up in your perfect little world?

At this point, you couldn’t say, the only thing that you know is you want Harry back. You can’t breathe without him. You’re no better now than you were when you made him leave.

You just wanted him to come back to you.

Y/N,

Hello, Um, I’ve never written a love letter to anyone but you, and this is the first one I’m writing with the intent of giving it to you, so I apologize if this sounds crazy.

I miss you. So fucking much. I never knew that someone could miss another person this much. I miss you when I’m trying to sleep and you’re not there to cuddle up with me. I miss you when I’m cooking and you’re not there to sit on the counter and taste test for me. I miss you when I’m getting ready in the mornings, wishing that your fingers were working their way through my crazy hair and not my own.

But most of all, I miss driving with you. I miss having you in my passenger seat. I miss having you there to pick the music and keep everything light and airy. I miss holding your hand and drawing random patterns on your knuckles. I miss the way you would study each of the tattoos that you could see every single time that we would get into the car. You would look over them, trace each little line like it was the first time you had ever seen them.

You make me feel like art, even when I don’t feel so hot. You make me see the best in life.

I’m so fucking sorry Y/N. I shouldn’t have blown up at you. I should have sat down and talked to you like good boyfriends do. I should have just stopped getting in my own head and opened up to you.

We’d never fought like that. Sure, we’d argue over the miniscule things, but we never let it get this bad. I shouldn’t have let it get that bad. I should have manned up and told you why I was being distant towards you.

I never meant to hurt you. I really didn’t. But I know that I did break your heart. I could see it in the way you looked at me.

I’m not asking that you take me back, that would be pretty narcissistic of me, thinking that if I ask, you’ll just welcome me back with open arms.

I don’t expect that of you. I broke your heart. I know that.

All I’m asking is that you give me the chance, at some point, to let me put it back together.

(Hopefully) Yours,

He sealed the envelope and worked up the courage to drive to your house. He didn’t even know if you’d be there. Or if you were, if you’d be there alone. You could have easily moved on from him. It wouldn’t have been hard for you. Any guy would be blessed to have you in their life.

He just hoped that you had been missing him even a fraction of how much he missed you.

Before he could overthink it too much, he grabbed the envelopes, sought out his keys, and made his way to the house you used to share.

On the drive there, he left the radio off, not being able to concentrate on anything else besides the worry that you hated him.

You couldn’t hate him. Could you?

Harry couldn’t remember the drive to your house being so long. How did he have this much time to doubt everything?

He was not like this. He never doubted himself. He always had faith in himself. He knew that people liked him, and he took a certain amount of pride in that.

But he was none of those things around you. He was anxious. He wanted you to come back to him. He was hoping that maybe, just maybe, you would give him a second chance.

It’s going to be fine. She’ll read the letters and you’ll at least get to see her face one more time, Harry says continuously to himself as he walks up to your door and rings the bell.

You hadn’t invited anybody over. You don’t know who could possibly be at your door. Unless it was those girl scouts coming back to sell their cookies. Little do they know that you don’t even like them. Harry’s the one with the love for them. He’s the one that buys every box that they have on them every time.

You groan and pull yourself out of bed, trudging to the door to break the news to the girls. You expect a few hurt faces that’ll guilt you into buying a few boxes and giving them away.

What you don’t expect is to find the curly haired man when you open the door.

You open your mouth to speak, but he stops you, “Look, I know. You don’t want to see me. I just- I need to give you these. I-I’ve been trying to leave you be but,” he reached his free hand up to run through his unruly curls, “I can’t stop thinking about you. And I know, I messed up, I don’t deserve to even be here right now.” He pauses for a moment to take a deep breath and you try to speak again but he’s faster. “I don’t expect anything, I just ask that you read these letters. It’s all the things I didn’t say. I know that doesn’t make up for it, I just want you to read them. Please.”

“H…” you breathe, trying to find the right words.

“Anyway, yeah. Um, here.” he hands you the letters and turns around, “I’m going to give you time to read them. If you wanna talk, you have my number. If not, I get it.”

You watch him walk for a moment, wondering if what you’re about to do is a good idea. But honestly, you don’t care. You miss him way too much to let him walk away again.

“H, wait!” he stops but doesn’t turn around. “Come back, please. I miss you. I just- I’m sorry.” He turns around and slowly makes his way towards you, as if moving with caution.

“Really? Are you going to read the letters still?” He looks nervous, waiting for you to confirm or deny whether you’re playing with his heart.

“I’m still going to read the letters, I just want you here with me.”

He can feel himself relax, his mind slowing down the marathon it had been running since he began his journey to your house.

You were going to read the letters. You missed him. Maybe you would give him a chance.

He hoped so. God, he hoped so. He wanted you back so bad that he would do literally anything in the world to have you back in his arms.

He would spend his entire life making it up to you, whether you were his or not.

You open the first letter and begin to read.

Y/N,

So I know we’re not talking, but everyone says maybe this will help me. My therapist says maybe this can make it easier for me to sleep. So here I go.

I’m such an idiot, I messed up the best thing in my life. I see you in everything that I do and everywhere that I go. I’m trying to give you your space. Trying to let you have whatever you want. I’m trying so hard darling. But it’s so hard.

I’m not used to sleeping in a bed without you in it. I’m not used to not having you to curl around and the scent of your shampoo to breathe in.

I can’t leave the house without thinking that you should be coming with me. I can’t drive without wishing that you were in my passenger seat.

I can’t do this without you. I don’t know how I ever lived without you before, and I definitely don’t know how I’m going to do so now.

I guess I’m going to try to sleep now.

Yours

Harry

You look up at him with tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything wrong?” He questions.

“You haven’t been able to sleep.” You crawl from your place on the couch over to him, looking at him for consent before cuddling into his side.

“It’s alright, darling. I deserved it.” He squeezes you closer to his body and you can feel every muscle in your body relax. “You still have more letters to read.” He whispers.

“Can I read them tomorrow? Missed you too much to be reading anything when I could be looking at your face.” You mumble, causing him to chuckle and look down at you.

“We can do whatever you want, darling.” He says, granting you a small smile.

“Good, because I wanna cuddle in our bed and actually get a good night's sleep.” You yawn, sleep already coming easier to you now that he was back.

“That sounds good to me, love. Come on, let’s go to bed.” He picks you up, carrying you to your room. And that’s when it hits you.

You have Harry back.

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 3 years

Text

Music for the Soul

Summary: Soulmate AU where the song your soulmate is thinking of gets stuck in your head.

This fic is inspired by and gifted to @yellowpaintpots.

Notes: canonical, this is S2 E6 and a little beyond but it’s not exactly like the show obviously.

AO3

Kurt Hummel was used to not fitting in. At McKinley High, he was often an odd man out. He did partner projects alone, he held his tongue around bullies and had no one to complain to, and most days, he had an entire lunch table to himself. No one sat with the kid in weird, homemade clothes unless there was no other choice.

What kept him going was music. He had one earbud in as he walked down the halls. Choosing from playlists his mother used to listen to, Broadway soundtracks sung by people still performing on stage today, and to the thrill of his father, rock classics. If Burt Hummel had passed anything onto his son, it was his music tastes and the fantastical idea of soulmates.

The image of a white knight coming to save him by serenade was one that haunted him before he fell asleep. A boy, which little eleven-year-old Kurt held close to his heart, picked out by the universe meant just for him. Even when he started to find the fantasy a little too cheesy, it kept Kurt going until he found the glee club.

No one could touch him or change him because there was someone out there who would love him exactly the way he was.

The New Directions were a hot mess when they started, of course. The 5 of them weren’t winning any competitions when they first found themselves in the choir room but they were five misfits who finally had friends. People who understood the passion of music and an adult who shared that same passion and would hopefully guide them to their dream futures.

Just months later, they became a mixture of a dozen sophomores and freshmen with a Sectionals win under their belt all ready to face the Dalton Academy Warblers in a few weeks. With Regionals looming over them, glee had become much messier than usual. With plenty of in-fighting about solos and song choices, the choir room was always a jumbled, loud mess. That is until Mr. Schue came up with the idea for a school musical. It was taking their minds off of Regionals for the time being.

Kurt was all too happy to be auditioning for a role instead of sitting in the back row wishing he had a shot at a solo. His voice was too unique for Ohio. But someday, he knew, it would get him to Broadway. He held that thought close to his heart while tuning out Rachel’s insistence bickering.

Yesterday, Mr. Schue had decided their school musical was going to the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Kurt loved cult classics as much as the next person but he wasn’t sure how Mr. Schue had gotten this approved by Figgins. It seemed too risqué for high schoolers.

He only hoped whoever his soulmate was enjoying the soundtrack he had stuck in his head this week.

Kurt planned on auditioning for Riff Raff. Already putting mental outfits from his closet to wear. The wound of Mr. Schue assuming he’d play Frank N. Furter based solely on the fact that he was gay was still fresh but his audition was going to blow everyone away.

He had chosen “Dammit Janet” for his audition despite it being a Brad and Janet duet. Quinn, who was hoping for Magenta, was going to be his partner. They had joked about the main roles already being off the table before auditions; it was clear Mr. Schue had chosen Finn and Rachel for the leads. It was hard to be upset when Quinn had instantly offered to do a joint audition with him. Their voices went so well together and Kurt liked spending time with her.

Ever since Kurt and Mercedes had their stint as Cheerios, they had gotten closer. The three of them even had a weekend sleepover this past Saturday. Mercedes had dumped the Cheerios but Kurt stayed on and Quinn had just gotten back on the squad after her dismissal last year. Coach Sue had them sing during practice last week and Quinn was waiting for him after their showers with the suggestion of a double audition song.

They had been having rehearsals in the auditorium during their shared free period and twice after glee club on days when it wasn’t already reserved. As the day came closer, Quinn offered her house to practice in since her parents were rarely home and so Finn wouldn’t become Rachel's spy. Though, Kurt assured her Finn was much too engrossed in video games to bother with their rehearsals.

Since they increased their run-throughs, Kurt’s had one song in his head all morning. In case the lyrics weren’t already ingrained into his head, he had his own little concert in his head. Just after lunch, that changed. A mere 3 hours until his audition after school his soulmate’s music had taken root. As much as Kurt was willing to bow down to the queens of pop, what he wouldn’t give for 5 minutes of something other than Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream”. This bubble gum pop song had gone from ‘oh, that’s a good song to scream in the car’ to ‘if I hear it one more time, I’ll rip my ears off’ fairly quickly.

It hadn’t helped that his brain went from one song on repeat to another.

As he sits in geometry, he tries to hear Mr. Finnegan’s explanation of arcs but his brain has other plans.

Let you put your hands on me in my skin tight jeans.

Kurt knows it’s just a song but the image is so clear in his head.

Smooth, soft skin. Obviously, someone who used lotions regularly, Kurt expected nothing less from his soulmate. Neatly trimmed fingernails so they wouldn’t catch on Kurt’s pants when fingers trailed up to cup his knee. The grip would be teasingly light. He never let his fantasies get too far. Especially outside the privacy of his bedroom. In all honesty, even when he was alone in his bed at night envisioning the same kind of scenario, Kurt didn’t really know what came next. He wasn’t even sure what kissing really entailed.

What if his soulmate is ready for...certain things...Kurt’s not even to verbalize yet. What if he’s imagining their first meeting very differently then Kurt, who’s hopeful they’ll have coffee or a meal together before they do anything besides maybe hand-holding. The touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets, unless you ask Katy Perry it seems.

He spends the rest of math wondering what the boy with Katy Perry in his head must look like. Kurt wonders if his soulmate wears bright colors like his idol or maybe Katy is a secret shame that he’ll only share with Kurt.

…

Blaine liked fitting in. He enjoyed the uniform for many reasons. One, he thought the blazer looked stylish. It was also nice knowing what you had to wear every day, one less thing to worry about people judging you for. Plenty of people at his old school picked on him for his bow ties but at Dalton, everyone had neckwear. The standard blue and red striped tie. He liked how neat it was; there was a certain way to wear said uniform.

Everyone was the same here. No typical hierarchy of jocks and cheerleaders. Only the Warblers stood out simply because everyone knew them.

How could you forget a group of boys singing acapella at all hours of the day?

Blaine might joke that they’re teenage rockstars but really they are just a group of talented guys who liked to sing.

The Warblers were the first real friends he ever had.

When he was still attending public school he held tightly to the idea of his soulmate since it seemed hopeless to wish for friendship. Not when he was being harassed for a sexuality he wasn’t sure of yet and being pushed to the ground in the parking lot for it.

But a soulmate was a guarantee. Everyone had one. By the time Blaine reached eighth grade, he knew. All of those middle school bullies had used words Blaine didn’t quite understand until that moment.

He was surrounded in the parking lot after school having missed his bus because someone had stuck gum in his curls during last period. That was the day Blaine started to seriously consider investing in some gel. Maybe that would prevent some bullying. Anyway, he was surrounded, being literally kicked around by a group of soccer players and friends.

Other students had gathered to watch the so-called fight but Blaine thought their chants would only grab the attention of a teacher or so he hoped. No one came quickly. He had enough injuries by the end for his mom to insist on a trip to the ER. A big black eye and sprained his wrist along with plenty of bruising on his limbs.

But he honestly didn’t remember getting hurt beyond the initial pushing to the ground. When the bullying got bad like this he pulled out those daydreams. This time around it wasn’t this blurry image of hand holding, there was a boy. Blaine hadn’t seen his face but his voice was soft and comforting, inviting Blaine in. There was an outstretched hand just out of reach for Blaine to take. Blaine knew then. His soulmate was a boy.

When everything was over and he was being released by the doctor, all he knew was there was some boy built perfectly for Blaine just waiting to be found. Waiting for him.

He hadn’t even been upset by his injuries because he was sitting with these thoughts of ‘how do I come out to my parents?’

Instead of deciding that day, he kept those daydreams close to his heart for the next year and a half. Until the issue of high school came out and Blaine didn’t want to go back to public school. To his surprise, both of his parents took it well. They were more concerned for his safety than his sexuality. Together, they decided on Dalton. A private school with a zero tolerance policy for bullies. That was that.

He still had his doubts at Dalton. Was he really good enough to be a lead soloist let alone go onto Broadway someday? Could he make it out of Ohio? In those moments, Blaine still came back to his soulmate. Someone, no matter what came, Blaine would have by his side.

When he imagined his soulmate, Blaine could never truly figure out what he’d look like. All he saw was that outstretched hand. Usually, people could draw up a picture in their heads based on the music they heard.

For Blaine, the genre of music didn’t help. His soulmate was clearly someone with mixed taste.

Today’s selection was...a musical. Blaine wasn’t familiar with the characters Brad and Janet but he had looked it up at lunch. Some kind of cult classic people went to see in the weeks leading up to Halloween. It was October so it made sense for the soundtrack to be stuck in his soulmate’s head. Blaine wondered if he had gone to see it, wondered who he saw it with.

The Warblers thought he was crazy. Imagining that his soulmate was off with some other person. It was rare to date seriously before meeting a soulmate but Blaine always told them the same story of his parents. Both of them had been in very serious relationships before they met. Hell, his mother had been engaged. Neither of them thought they’d meet their soulmate, which was also fairly rare but had happened.

When they met, they didn’t drop everything to be together. The wedding was put on hold but his father hadn’t broken up with his girlfriend right away. His parents wanted to be together only if they agreed with the universe’s choice.

Blaine knew his dad had been wary of his mother’s music taste. Pam had been deep into her metal phrase in her early twenties. His dad, Robert, was not a fan. He loved classical music. Forever dooming Pam to hum music without lyrics meanwhile Robert was cursed with “nonsense yelling” as he called it. Lucky, both of their music tastes had shifted over the years to have more overlap. Though, Blaine and Cooper had been subjected to dinners with a mixtape of Def Leppard and Bach.

They got together in the end, which was the important part, but what if they hadn’t chosen each other? What if Blaine’s soulmate was deeply in love with someone else and he’d spend the rest of his days loveless and alone?

When he voiced these thoughts aloud, his friends usually told him what a downer he could be, which tended to shake those fears away. If his parents, different as they were, still fell in love it would happen to him too. It was just a matter of when.

…

The next day at lunch, Mercedes was fretting over her soulmate.

“What if he’s super young, Kurt?”

“What makes you think that?” He asked, stabbing his salad.

“He’s got The Backyardigans theme song in his head again,” she sighed. “He got to be like 7. I’m just not comfortable with that.”

“It’s an age gap for sure,” Kurt agreed, but he’s fairly sure Sam Evans was singing that song after PE today, “or maybe he just has younger siblings. Don’t let your only-childness cloud your judgment.”

She hummed in agreement and pushed her tater tots around.

It was sort of a hard way to figure out your soulmate unless they were obvious about what music they had playing in their heads.

Some people, like Mr. Schue, we’re pretty obvious. He had been singing in the auditorium when Ms. Pillsbury found him. It was a pretty clear-cut match. As far as Mercedes was concerned, Kurt is sure she’ll overhear Sam’s humming soon enough.

He doesn’t want to spoil anything for his best friend nor does he want to be wrong. Soulmate meetings only come once in a lifetime.

Well, the first soulmate meeting that is.

There are plenty of people, like his dad, who lose a soulmate too soon and are gifted another one later in life. Kurt was so happy when he introduced Burt and Carole at parent-teacher conferences. They had just been listening to the Wicked soundtrack in the car ride over and Carole Hudson did not strike Kurt as the type of person who knew “I’m Not That Girl” by heart.

“Are you nervous about auditions?” Mercedes asked. “The list goes up today after glee.”

“Not at all like,” he shrugged, “I think Quinn and I did well.”

“Oh no, Kurt, we crushed it,” Quinn said, sitting down with her lunch.

He smiled at her. Quinn went on to compliment Mercedes on her audition, having heard part of it from outside the audition. She would’ve been inside with Kurt to watch but Coach Sue wanted to meet with her head Cheerio about their upcoming competition. From what Quinn had told them via text, Sue was going all out at practice today.

“She doesn’t want us to be late,” Quinn said. “That list better be up right away.”

“We should change before glee,” Kurt suggested.

“Good idea.”

Once Quinn had sat down the rest of the New Directions filed in. With interlocking pinkies, Santana and Brittany wandered over taking the last two seats available.

“Cheerios practice is gonna be hell, hope you’re up for the challenge Hummel,” Santana said.

He shot her a short glare.

“Kurt always understands the assignment, Santana,” Quinn quipped back.

Brittany nodded in agreement smiling at Kurt from across the table. She gave him a small wave half hidden by her lunch tray. In return, Kurt waved back just as shyly.

They had an interesting friendship. Kurt had kissed Brittany before. He was sure it hadn’t phrased Brittany as it had him. After all, she had kissed almost every boy in school. Some kind of record, he thought.

They sort of dated for like a week when Kurt was trying to convince himself he was straight. When he firmly realized he was kidding no one, not even himself, they broke up. Since then, he and Brittany had remained close. They were both Cheerios and in the glee club, it made sense.

He was happy to have Brittany in his life, even if that meant Santana by extension came with her. Santana was fine outside of the public eye. If the Unholy Trinity incited Kurt to their sleepovers, Santana was a different person. She put up a front at McKinley, extremely similar to the one Kurt attempted when he dated Brittany.

Few are privy to why she did this, Quinn and Kurt knew and he was fairly certain Mercedes did as well. She was very perceptive that way. Brittany was Santana’s soulmate. It explained so much about their relationship. Always in sync, completing each other perfectly, a literal better half.

Honestly, it gave Kurt so much hope that everyone’s soulmate was like that. A missing puzzle piece.

He really hoped his soulmate listened to more than just Teenage Dream because the lyrics were slowly creeping into his everyday language.

Usually, Kurt found himself hyper-focused in glee club. He got an energy boost just from walking into the choir room. Like a light switch turning on. His focus wasn’t always on whatever lecture Mr. Schue was pursuing, sometimes he watched his fellow glee clubbers (catching himself up on drama just by sideways glances), or mentally mapping out his next performance.

Today, Kurt wasn’t able to do any of those things. With the soundtrack of Teenage Dream (again) in his head, all he was thinking about was the center of a bulletin board with the cast list for The Rocky Horror Show on it. How far down the list was Riff Raff? How many names came before his?

Someone was snapping in front of his face. Kurt shook himself from his daydream to find Mercedes.

“Boy, wake up!” She said, “cast list is about to go up.”

Either glee club had gotten shorter or Mr. Schue was putting it up early.

…

Blaine didn’t really understand why the Warblers were concerned. Doing an improv performance was not new to them. In fact, Blaine had done three already this school year and he was only a freshman.

The first one he did had been way back in September, he hadn’t even been an official Warbler yet. Warbler Tradition said: all potential freshman recruits were required to perform again after their auditions with the whole group. It was a solid way to see if they fit in well with the other established Warblers. Blaine fondly remembers vibing along with the older Warblers and fellow potentials to a medley of Pink songs. None of the freshmen had solos but it was still a fun time.

At the time it seemed like all of Dalton fit into the choir room and surrounding hallways but in reality it was the entire freshman class. Improv performances weren’t something any middle schooler had seen before but the upperclassmen of Dalton knew the Warblers had plenty of improvs to come for the rest of the school year. The first one was special. Just for the newbies.

Three days after that performance, Blaine had gotten word that he was to be a new Warbler and two months after that he was granted his first solo. Now, he was slowly becoming their go-to soloist for almost every performance for an audience. Blaine had become a vital part of all rehearsals for the most part. He was honored by their commitment to him honestly and he loved to sing however, a week and half of preparations was a tad excessive. Still, he walked his way to rehearsal positive that the council would have at least five points to discuss before they actually started singing.

He walked into the choir room shaking his shake fondly and smiling at the Warblers already present.

The council were always first to arrive. Together. Then it was a mixed bag of who followed. Usually Trent was there, punctual as always, and Blaine took the seat between Trent and Jeff.

The room was mostly full already.

Nick came in shortly after Blaine and sat across from him immediately asking if there had been a pop quiz in Stanton’s class earlier and was rather relieved to find out Jeremy was a filthy liar, who liked to start trouble. Before Jeremy could get on Blaine’s case about being overly sincere, the meeting began.

Wes banged his gavel and welcomed everyone before gesturing for David to read off last meeting’s notes. Once the talking portion of the meeting was over, they pushed the furniture aside to make room.

...

A week later Kurt was happy to have one musical under his belt but thankful the performance run had been short. If you thought the New Directions were dramatic during competition weeks, it was nothing compared to their musical rehearsals.

Now, Mr. Schue was having the brilliant idea to host a boys vs girls competition. Of course, Kurt hadn’t wanted to work with the boys. They were sure to exclude his musical talents and he doubted he could get them to agree to any of his costume suggestions.

This was hardly a challenge. It was bland and they had done it already.

Kurt was sitting in the back of the choir room pouting. Yes, pouting. Full on arms crossed, head down, and bottom lip puffed out. Until, Mr. Schue had an actual brilliant idea, Kurt’s suggestion of course, to spice things up.

The boys did not appreciate Kurt’s six hours of work putting two posters together. Even with the assignment to bring more feminine qualities into their performance, the boys ignored his input. So, when Puckerman suggested Kurt spy on the Warblers, he was thankful for a reason to leave. He packed up his projects and headed home to change.

When Mr. Schue found out who their competition was, Rachel and Kurt did some googling. He had seen the all-boys school uniform and was fairly sure he could replicate it with clothes he already had.

He pulled some looks from his closet. Once satisfied he looked up directions to Westerville.

Dalton was huge. It looked like a museum. How on earth was Kurt going to find their choir room? He hoped there were signs inside or a map.

As he walked down a spiral staircase much too pretty to be in a school, he decided to just ask for directions. He was going to get lost if he kept walking without help.

When the boy he stopped turned around, all Kurt could think was ‘I’d love to put my hands all over you.’ Which was a ridiculous thought to have because he didn’t know this boy and where had that even come from? Oh right, Teenage Dream was still playing in his head. Thanks, Katy.

If only his soulmate knew he was using this song to fantasize about running off into the sunset with another boy.

…

Blaine loved being in the spotlight. Wes would say it was because he didn’t get that kind of attention from his parents but that simply wasn’t true. Well, unless Cooper was around; he always pulled focus when it came to their parents. Older sibling privilege, he assumed.

But he was running late. He stayed behind in class to ask a question which turned into his teacher rambling. Didn’t he know the Warblers had a performance today in the senior commons and Blaine was their lead singer?

He was checking the time when someone stopped him on the stairs.

A beautiful boy. Unlike anyone Blaine had ever seen before. He almost missed his name because he was caught up in memorizing his face.

There was something said about being new, which Blaine doubted since he wasn’t in uniform, and Blaine mentioned a shortcut he knew of.

It wasn’t really a shortcut. More like the long way to the Senior Commons but less crowded. Everyone was making their way to the Warblers and Blaine wanted as much time alone with Kurt as he could get.

He wanted Kurt’s full attention. It was no wonder he instantly wanted to show off. Teenage Dream fit his vocals perfectly and Kurt was an excellent audience. In fact, Blaine was set on serenading him.

He had no way of knowing that exact song had been playing all day long in Kurt Hummel’s mind.

Afterward, Blaine lost himself in a group hug from the Warblers but Kurt’s beaming smile caught his eye. He pulled Wes and David aside, confirming his own suspicions that Kurt was spying on them first before convincing them to invite Kurt for coffee.

The four boys sat at a table. Kurt seemed very nervous now. Blaine wasn’t sure if it was because he had been caught or something else was going on. In the end, Blaine thought it best for just him and Kurt to have a conversation. Not at all because he wanted alone time with him.

This clearly wasn’t the time or place for romance.

Once they were alone the whole tale seemed to flow out of Kurt: the name calling, locker shoving, his biggest bully. Blaine could relate.

Sometimes he felt phantom pains in his right leg from Sadie Hawkins. At first, Kurt scoffed when Blaine began sympathizing. If he were Kurt, he might not believe himself.

Private schoolboy bullied? Blaine sure didn’t look like someone who lacked friends. It was fairly common knowledge that Dalton had a zero tolerance policy for harassment. So, he explained. As brief as he could about his own experience with public school bullies.

Kurt and he seemed to have more in common than a love for music.

He doesn't have any plans to see Kurt again though Blaine has plenty of ideas on how they could get together. Coffee at the Lima Bean. Old musicals were playing at the revival theater. Maybe another high school was putting on a play this weekend. All Blaine needed was a good enough message to ask Kurt out. He drafted plenty but none sent.

After school, Blaine knew Kurt might need an extra push. He was pretty sure classes at McKinley were done for the day.

He sent a single word. Less second-guessing that way.

Courage.

Then, he walked to the library to start writing an essay on Lord of the Flies for English.

However, he found himself unable to concentrate. Usually after a performance, Blaine had the song stuck in his head for at least a day or two afterward. In addition to humming in the weeks of rehearsals, of course. Instead, Blaine found himself thinking about Start Me Up by the Rolling Stones and oddly Livin’ On a Prayer. Both songs he thought better suited his father or Cooper’s tastes. It was a mashup of the two songs like his soulmate was hearing them simultaneously.

When he started thinking about his soulmate, there was a clear picture of someone. It didn’t take long for Blaine to bring up those blue eyes and the soft complexion of Kurt Hummel. Which was crazy thinking. He had no idea if Kurt was his soulmate.

Soulmates tended to be around the same age but just because Kurt was also in high school meant nothing. By that logic anyone at Dalton could be his soulmate too.

During his brief time with Kurt this week, Blaine heard no music from his mouth. In fact, Blaine had done all the singing. Even with half his brain saying he was nuts to think Kurt was his forever, Blaine couldn’t let the thought go.

…

Blaine’s text comes in in the midst of the girls’ performance. A wonderful mashup and excellent costumes. Tina had texted Kurt about the leather jacket idea early this week. He was very proud of how they managed to pull the looks together in such a short time. It was impressive.

Altogether, Kurt was feeling great. The boys had their rehearsal, apparently their performance was turning into an apology. Kurt wasn’t sure what they had done to Coach Beiste but apparently, she was quitting. He and Blaine were texting periodically now. No one knew it but Kurt was surely developing a huge crush on the Warbler boy.

Then, he confronted Karofsky. He didn’t want to feel the same regret Blaine did—no one messes with the Hummels.

It seemed like mere hours but in reality, it was days, Kurt was enrolled at Dalton and saying goodbye to the New Directions.

He was full on having a Vanessa leaving Troy moment here. Kurt Hummel has got to go his own way.

God was he nervous to start at a new school. In the middle of the school year too. Being the new kid was going to be hard but not as difficult as staying at McKinley would be.

When Kurt was greeted by Blaine’s smile outside the office on his first day, it made Kurt relax. At least he already had a friend here.

It isn’t until they’re walking down the hall together—Blaine insisted on escorting Kurt to his first class—that Kurt noticed Blaine was humming.

“Is that High School Musical?” Kurt asked.

“Oh, um, technically it’s the sequel.”

“What about us…” Blaine sang, “what about everything we’ve been through?”

“What about trust…you know I’ve never wanted to hurt you?”

Blaine chucked. “Cheesy but true. Such a good movie.”

“We should watch it sometime,” Kurt suggested.

Instantly, he wanted to take it back. He’s been told he can come on too strong. Especially around cute boys.

“I’d love too!” Blaine said. “I have it on DVD.”

Kurt doesn’t see Blaine again until their one shared class of the day right before lunch. He sits across the room from Blaine during history but next to him at the Warbler’s lunch table.

Most of the group has the same lunch so Kurt is introduced to them before his audition later this afternoon.

“Nervous?” Wes asked, “you shouldn’t be.”

“Yeah, from what Blaine's told us you're a great singer,” Trent added.

“He’s barely heard me sing,” Kurt replied, poking Blaine’s arm.

He only sang one line of a song to the other boy today.

“Well…” Blaine rubs his neck abashedly. “I might’ve watched some New Directions videos on YouTube.”

“Oh, I forgot Rachel uploaded those.” Kurt tunes to the other Warblers then, “I hope I don’t disappoint.”

After lunch, Blaine walks Kurt to class again. “Between you and me, you’re a shoo-in.”

“Really?” The Warblers were such an esteemed group. Not at all like the disorganized New Directions. They had also been a glee club for far longer.

“Really.”

***

Blaine has had High School Musical songs in his head all day. Whoever his soulmate is, at least he’s got good taste in Disney Channel original movies. Then as the Warblers were preparing for Kurt’s audition, the song switched. An Evita song.

His soulmate sure did love musicals. Blaine was rather happy about that. He could already picture them sitting on the couch cuddled under a fluffy blanket with any number of classic musicals laid out before them. Arguing over if it was too soon to rewatch Moulin Rouge and whose turn it was to make popcorn.

They’d be in a big city apartment. Somewhere where no one cared if they were gay. All anyone wanted to know was how they discovered they were soulmates. Their origin story.

From that point, the daydream grew fuzzy. Blaine couldn’t come up with that meet-cute story. It hadn’t happened yet and nothing his brain could come up with would ever match up with his future reality.

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the choir room.

The room was buzzing with excitement. It wasn’t every day the Warblers auditioned someone mid-semester. Of course, Kurt had special circumstances but the group was notorious for never breaking tradition.

Blaine tried to focus but it was difficult without Kurt at his side. Lately, he had been distracted whenever Kurt wasn’t around. All Blaine could hear, despite the loud room, was the song in his head.

I had to let it happen

I had to change

Then, Kurt walked in and music started to play. For a split second, Blaine thought he was imagining the words from “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” coming from Kurt’s lips. Surely he hadn’t chosen the same song as Blaine’s soulmate had in their head. He knew it couldn’t be his imagination when Trent leaned over and whispered to Blaine how much he loved this song.

Like lightning striking a tree, Blaine had a realization. Kurt Hummel was his soulmate.

Oh god, what was he going to do?

His skin was burning as if it was burned away like bark. He drooped in his seat desperate for water to put himself out with. To put a stop to the tingling sensation bubbling up under his skin.

All he wanted to do was reach out and touch Kurt. Some part of his brain was able to override that thought. He couldn’t ruin this audition for him. There was plenty of time to spend with Kurt after this, Blaine had all the time in the world to talk with his soulmate.

Soulmate.

Never did he think he would find his soulmate this soon. Gosh, they were only teenagers. They had so much life to live together. This was rare, special, to find your soulmate so quickly in life. Blaine would cherish it, he’d be thankful for this gift for rest of his days.

But how in the hell was he going to tell Kurt? It had to be romantic. Blaine always thought it would be when he finally came face to face with his soulmate, his one true love. There was so much work to be done and so little time to do it. Now that Blaine knew, he didn’t want to spend another day without Kurt knowing too.

He used to dream about running dramatically in slow motion towards each other and embracing just as it started to rain, which of course led to a fabulous first kiss in the sudden storm. But Blaine knew how unlikely that would be.

He’d just have to build a new fantasy, which he thought would be easy to do if Kurt was his so-called Prince Charming. Whatever happened was going to outweigh everything his imagination had come up with thus far.

First and foremost, he’d had to sit through a discussion of this audition, which he was barely able to pay attention to. All he wanted to do was walk up to Kurt, cup his face, and kiss him. After Kurt was finished, the council dismissed him. Blaine knew he’d find Kurt just outside the choir room because they had plans afterward but now he had no idea how he was going to sit through coffee with Kurt and not tell him.

“He’s very good,” Trent said, nudging Blaine.

He nodded in agreement. It seems most of the group concurred, Kurt was a good fit for them.

Kurt Hummel was the perfect fit for Blaine too. Even if he didn’t know it yet.

***

Kurt didn’t consider himself to be a good reader of social cues especially when his own emotions were involved. See, Finn Hudson and Sam Evans. Crushes on straight boys never ended well. With Blaine, he swore things would be different.

They were friends, classmates, and hopefully, soon they’d be fellow Warblers. Kurt was not going to mess this up. Even if Blaine was really cute and friendly and super kind and understanding. There was so much to love about Blaine, Kurt found it hard to find something he didn’t like.

He had found focusing on his dislikes of a person kept his feelings at bay. Like how messy Finn could be really shut down any romance fantasy Kurt had drawn up. Except, Blaine didn’t dye his hair like Sam, he was completely organized (Kurt had seen his dorm room; spotless), he was modest and genuine.

It made sense that everyone at Dalton wanted some of his attention. Blaine embodied Kurt’s idea of a gentleman and then some.

After his audition, Kurt sat outside the choir room waiting for his results. The council would discuss with the full group, release them, and regroup tomorrow with a vote. Kurt was waiting for Blaine to be dismissed because Blaine had promised to buy him a cup of coffee.

Some of the Warblers who were leaving had some pretty nice things to say about Kurt’s performance. Just general praise which soothes some of his initial nerves. Mostly, he just wanted Blaine to walk out with a big smile on his face. That boy couldn’t keep a secret. Kurt would know if he was in or not just by looking at his face.

Kurt was joined on his bench by a boy who introduced himself as Duncan.

“I was super nervous after my audition. I just got in at the beginning of this year so I know what you’re going through.”

Kurt felt his shoulders drop in relief. As much as Blaine tried to assure him the audition would be perfect, Kurt felt like he couldn’t relate much as the star of the glee club. Back at McKinley, Kurt rarely had center stage. Here, Blaine always had everyone’s attention.

“That’s actually great to hear,” Kurt said, with a slight chuckle.

“Seriously, Kurt, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I’m a little concerned they’ll kick me out just to have your voice,” Duncan teased.

They keep talking about what it’s like to be a new Warbler since Duncan is positive Kurt will be getting good news shortly. He offers up some pointers to get on the council’s good side.

“I loved your song choice by the way, so weird because Evita had been in my head all day.”

It feels like someone’s dropped an ice cube down his back. He sits up quickly.

Oh, Kurt thought, is this it?

“You did?” He must’ve heard wrong. There’s just no way.

“Yeah, I love that musical,” Duncan confirmed.

Could it be this easy? He wondered.

“We should hang out again soon,” Duncan told him, “I’d love to get to know you. Newbie Warblers gotta stick together.”

Kurt gives Duncan his number before the other boy wanders off. Before Kurt can get too deep into any fantasies of his soulmate, wondering if that soulmate has just left him or not, Blaine comes out from the choir room.

“Hey you,” Blaine greeted with a big smile.

“Are you allowed to give me any inclination?”

He shook his head but was still smiling wide which made Kurt feel like good news was in his near future like Duncan had said. Kurt was telling Blaine how long he had practiced the song over the weekend with Rachel and Duncan reassurances when Blaine blurted, “Duncan Samuels?”

“Yeah, we just met.”

Should he tell Blaine about them being soulmates or wait until he was sure?

But Blaine just nodded. Something was clearly bothering his friend. For now, Kurt was going to let it go because he was sure Blaine would come to him if he wanted to talk. He didn’t want to force it out of Blaine.

Kurt couldn’t even get Finn to talk to him during their warm milk chats at night. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull the information out of Blaine if he tried.

“Anyway,” Kurt said, continuing his previous line of thought, “Rachel has this whole stage setup in her dads’ basement.”

“I don’t find that hard to believe based on everything you’ve told me about her.”

After that comment, their coffee date is back on track, Kurt doesn’t bring up his potential soulmate meeting.

***

Duncan Samuels was his lifelong nemesis. As far as Blaine was considered his life began when he figured out Kurt was his soulmate and if Duncan was going to interfere with that they were now enemies. Since their coffee date yesterday, Blaine hasn’t heard a word about Duncan but he also had yet to see Kurt today. They only had one class together after lunch, which Blaine was on his way to now.

Kurt saved him a seat and delivered the news.

“Duncan and I are going for coffee today.”

Those words were devastating.

In normal circumstances, Blaine would’ve asked Kurt why he wasn’t going to rehearsal but of course Kurt wasn’t a Warbler…yet. Blaine knew the Warblers were going to announce Kurt’s membership at the end of day, which meant this was the last rehearsal Kurt wouldn’t attend.

So instead of a calmly said, normal statement, Blaine spent the next minute freaking out.

Duncan was the worst! He was going to steal Kurt away from him before Blaine ever got the chance. Well okay, the rational side of him thought, Kurt isn’t being stolen he’s going willingly.

“That’s nice,” he finally said.

There was no way for Blaine to stop Kurt and honestly no reason to try since Duncan posed no threat to Kurt. He didn’t need a protector. Blaine knew they were soulmates and he’d find a way to tell Kurt later on. At the end of it all, Kurt was his soulmate. He just knew it.

“Are you free when I get out of rehearsal?”

“For you?” Kurt asked, “of course, I’ll probably still be in the cafe.”

“I’ll come find you,” Blaine told him.

Still, all throughout Warbler rehearsal, Blaine’s attention was elsewhere. He needed to get out of here and meet up with Kurt. Wes knew it too because he pulled him aside at one point while David ushered the guys into a new arrangement.

“What’s up with you?” He asked, “I need you focused for competition.”

“I will be,” he vowed.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Blaine looked back at the other boys but they were already harmonizing.

“It’s Kurt.”

Wes smiled. “Don’t worry about him. He’s in, I can’t believe we have a countertenor on our team now. We’re going to wipe the floor at regionals.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Wesley. McKinley already knows what a talent Kurt is, he won’t be a surprise to them,” Blaine reminded him.

“Ah, but they didn’t utilize his talent,” Wes said, “it’ll shock them to see Kurt in the spotlight.”

Wes patted Blaine’s back and guided him back to the group to finish up rehearsal.

Blaine couldn’t help but check his phone again before he tuned back into rehearsal. He knew Kurt was getting coffee and that’s why he wasn’t answering his phone.

One of the best things about Kurt was when you were with him everything else was put aside. Blaine was sure if things got really serious, Kurt would shut his phone off entirely to prove a point. Right now, it was annoying as hell. Blaine needed to see a reassuring text that Kurt wasn’t running off into the sunset with Duncan Samuels.

What if his phone was turned off because the two of them were standing at the altar? Everyone turns their phones off in church.

He really really needed to talk to him. Blaine didn’t want to be the type of soulmate that holds onto that information too long. It’s like he’s lying to himself not being with Kurt.

Once rehearsal was finally over, Blaine rushed over to the on-campus cafe where he knew Kurt would be. He had to be there.

When Blaine pushed his way through the door, he saw Kurt was sitting alone nursing what looked to be a cup of tea. When Blaine approached him he could tell it was Chamomile.

“Can I sit?”

Kurt nodded but didn’t say a word as Blaine hung his bag across the back of the chair and removed his blazer.

He expected a question about the Warblers, perhaps an inquiry about his status to become one but nothing came. Kurt wasn’t even drinking his tea.

“What’s wrong? Did Duncan say something to upset you?”

“I’m fine, Blaine,” Kurt said, “Duncan didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me as usual.”

Blaine didn’t understand.

“Am I that unlovable?”

“What?”

Kurt was the most kind, sincere person he knew and Blaine had only met him a few weeks ago. He was most certainly lovable considering Blaine fell for him in just under 3 weeks

“I can’t really blame him,” Kurt continued, “it’s not his fault we aren’t soulmates.”

“You thought he was your soulmate?”

Maybe telling Kurt wouldn’t be too difficult after all.

“It’s just he made this comment yesterday that made me think…but of course I got too ahead of myself again and really I should know by now,” Kurt mumbled the last bit, “nothing ever goes to plan.”

“You can say that again.”

This cafe wasn’t a romantic candlelit dinner. He didn’t have rose petals to scatter around. There was no champagne to toast. But he had the most important thing.

Blaine reached across the table to grab Kurt’s hand. “Think of a song.”

“Why?”

“Just do it,” Blaine said.

Kurt’s face was scrunched up in a “I’m confused but I’ll trust you” kind of way.

As soon as the song hit him, Blaine opened his mouth to sing, “this could be the start of something new…it feels so right to be here with you.”

“How did you—?”

Blaine smiled at him. “Pick another song.”

“Your cares and troubles are gone. They'll be no more from now on.”

His mouth opens slightly.

“Your turn,” Blaine said, “ I want you to sing what comes to mind.”

Wasn’t the best way to prove they were soulmates to test each other?

Blaine wanted Kurt to have his own moment of realization even if he engineered it. He didn’t want their “how-did-you-know” story to be him informing Kurt about their connection. Instead, he wanted to tell people about listening to Kurt’s Warbler audition and thinking how odd it was to know the song he was going to sing before it began. Kurt’s story would start with a laugh because he imagined someone other than Blaine as his soulmate the very same day.

And wasn’t that just so silly of him?

Rather than have Kurt just sing to him, Blaine harmonized with him. This was the proof. He’d sing everything Kurt could come up with and vice versa.

“But baby, can't you see there's nothing else for me to do? I'm hopelessly devoted to you.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said. “We’re….”

He nodded.

Before Blaine even realized it, Kurt was out of his seat leaning towards him, they’re kissing. Kurt’s fingers are curved around his chin and his other hand is tickling the curls at the back of his neck. The tiny wisps of hair that always escape the gel by the late afternoon.

Blaine would happily keep his curls loose if it meant Kurt would keep his hands in his hair always. Especially, if it meant they’d never stop kissing.

Eventually, Kurt has to pull away. They’re still close enough to feel each other’s breath.

“Soulmates,” Blaine whispered.

It had been quiet while they kissed like everything else in the world just stopped. All the sounds of Dalton came rushing back all at once. The students in the halls, coffee orders being called out, and the shuffling of chairs as people came and went.

“When did you know?” Kurt asked, sitting down again.

Blaine pulled his seat around so they were closer and Kurt immediately reached for his hand.

***

3 months later.

Blaine hadn’t been upset to lose to McKinley at Regionals. How could he have been when he got to sing with his soulmate in front of a crowd? Their duet was so in sync and the crowd could tell. He doesn’t think he ever received such a loud applause.

Blaine had wanted to just be in that moment forever—staring into Kurt’s eyes hearing the words in his head just before they were said aloud, gripping his hand before pushing him into the spotlight to soak up the audience’s love.

No, Blaine was happy about Regionals. The Warblers had worked hard on the set; their second place trophy sat on the right corner of the council’s table at meetings now. What Blaine was concerned about was Kurt’s leaving.

His dorm room was empty now, the last suitcase zipped up. Blaine was sitting on his boyfriend’s mattress taking in the last moment that Kurt was a Dalton student.

“I’ll miss you too, you know, a lot,” Kurt said from the doorway.

“I know,” Blaine replied, “it’s just sad.”

Kurt took a seat next to him on the bed.

“I’ll sing to you.”

Blaine smiled. “Promise?”

“Everyday.” Kurt kissed his cheek.

They were going to be okay.

#klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #soulmate au #klaine #my fics

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ageofevermore · 4 years

Text

Unsaid Emily

SUMMARY — and maybe it was the midnight ink on her wrist that tied her to him

WORD COUNT — 1.7k

───── ･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ: *. ☽ .* : ☆ﾟ. ─────

They had said goodbye to a child eight years before welcoming the second with shocked and scared hearts. They had promised to do things differently -- to like whatever she liked, watch whatever she watched, and love whatever she loved. They drew no boundary at personal belief when it came to this second child that shadowed the life of Luke, but they made no attempts to forgive and mend the empty spaces in their hearts where they had already done this. They had already gone through first steps, words, and heartbreaks. They had captured Luke’s seventeen years of life in their memory so perfectly watching hers felt faulty. They tried with everything they had to love her as they never loved Luke, but somehow that caused even more of a divide as everything was reminiscent of the deceased first born brunette.

She had been away at school when his birthday rolled around; for the first time in her seventeen years of pitiful existence she didn’t blow out the candles on a stale chocolate cake. She spent the day away from stories of her brother, and instead spent it knowing somewhere in the universe he wasn’t being smothered by Mitch and Emily’s persistent opinions. She couldn’t outrun home forever though. An amazing music program in Santa Monica pulled her away from LA for most weeks out of the year, but her mother was persistent that she abandon the dorms and visit home every so often. It was that fear of Luke again. He had instilled so many traumas that even trust with her was unruly and weak.

She heard the doorbell ring as she was unpacking her pile of homework, the weekend away from school meaning nothing for the multiple classes she was taking weekly. Though the private boarding school was diverse in the makeup of their structured courses, she was still on a tightly wound schedule with instrumental practice and vocals along with mandatory academics like calculus. She hates calculus. She had only started around the corner because she heard the sound of her brother's name roll off of a stranger's tongue. The defined L sound was unmistakable, and partnered with the topic of music, the correlation was undeniable.

“Yeah. That’s Luke, when he was two.” Mitch explained the picture between the girls grasp, eyes growing damp at the topic of his greatest failure as a parent. Luke was his perfect gift.

“Do you have any other children?” The girl asked, gently setting the picture frame down and bringing her chocolate eyes up to Mitch’s. The gentleness of her expressions were weighing heavy on the hearts of a family that lived with the memory of Luke on their mind daily. Even with the retelling of his story the only fragment of his existence that she knew, hearing these words hurt.

“A daughter. Lily.” Mitch looked just behind the guest, eyes trailing over his daughter that shared the same midnight toned hair and hard blue eyes as his Luke once had. She stepped past the threshold connecting the foyer to the living room, ignoring the butterflies that spread through her stomach at a certain point across the hardwood.

“I’m Lily.” She smiled tightly at the girl, hand extended in a polite greeting that was in no way authentic. Her heart was beating her ears, palms collecting sweat at the idea of knowing Luke from somebody else's perspective.

“Julie.” The two smiled at each other, both looking equally displaced despite this being Lily’s house, and having been Julie’s personal decision to come. Luke just had that effect on people. His memory made you hurt so deeply that anything other than crying felt wrong.

“Did I hear the doorbell?” Emily asked, hand softly brushing against Lily’s back. Emily hadn’t even flinched when her child pulled away from the embrace, just accepted what had become routine since implementing the memory and the love of Luke. In remembering one child Mitch and Emily had completely pushed away the other.

“Mom, this is Julie.” Lily introduced the two, her eyes wandering around the space that suddenly felt so full. She had stood in this same living room for seventeen years prior to the current evening and never had she got the sense of being complete.

“Hello, Julie.” Emily smiled, looking over the girl standing in their living room with nothing more than a name to her purpose. “Oh, that’s a beautiful sweater.”

She had never heard her mother speak so freely kindly towards others' clothing. She had woken the same morning, expecting the looks of judgement and unwarranted warnings that band-tees and vans had been the very wardrobe to have taken Luke’s life.

When she had gotten Sunset Curve tattooed to the flesh of her wrist, binding her life to her brother's memory, they had gone mental. It had been tears of disappointment and pain at the foundation of an argument. They had come around eventually, but only off of the premise that they didn’t want to drive Lily away and watch her face death like Luke did.

“Thanks. It’s my moms.” Julie looked down at her sweater, fingers softly brushing along the knitted material. By the solemn expression in her eyes, Lily knew that death had been upon her. Nobody bore such a heavy gleam without the persuading of trauma and grief.

“Julie lives in the house where Luke and the band rehearsed. She was just telling me she found a song that Luke wrote.” Mitch looked down at Julie, all while Lily couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on her. Looking around the room again, her heart jumped painfully in her chest at the orb of afterlife reflecting from the sun just behind Julie. As she stared into the rainbow colors of the orb, she couldn’t help but feel as though a set of eyes was sharing the encounter with her.

Blinking away the delusion, Lily’s thumb traced the tattoo on her wrist, her eyes welling with tears. She might have rivaled a ghost all of her childhood, but she missed the soft and tender memories of her brother she didn’t have the heart to relearn. She could love him with everything she had, but never would see ask her parents about his short lived life.

“It’s a song about a girl named Emily?”

A tear fell from Lily’s eyes, while warm pools of grief framed the waterline of her blue optics, threatening to spill over at any second. She traced the spot where the orb of afterlife had once floated above the air with streaks of rainbow, but the sun had moved away and stopped casting a spotlight on the space.

“Emily…” Mitch whispered into the open air of the space, eyes glazing over as he looked down to his wife that had beared two children and loved the first more than anything worldly. “I’m Emily.” She pleaded, although neither she nor Julie knew what she was asking for with her desperation soaked tone.

“Then I think your son may have written a song for you.” Julie handed over the old and tattered piece of notebook paper that bore the same handwriting as all of Luke’s journals still stashed away in the attic. The same handwriting that lived permanently on her wrist, taking the shape of what his dream had once been.

“First things first, we start the scene in reverse.” Lily had to shake the thought of music out of her focus, her body so heavily convinced that somewhere in the depths of her home a song was playing softly. The dimension of the vocals she heard was unlike any streaming platform ability, making her wonder if her mother had broken into the vinyls again.

“All of the lines rehearsed disappeared from my mind when things got loud. One of us running out, I should've turned around, but I had too much pride. No time for goodbyes, didn't get to apologize, pieces of a clock that lies broken. If I could take us back, if I could just do that and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. Silent days, mysteries and mistakes. Who'd be the first to break? I guess we're alike that way. He said, she said, conversations in my head, and that's just where they're gonna stay forever.”

It was a ringing between her ears that brought the delusion to a standstill. As her fingers curl around her wrist as if to physically grab the midnight ink, the whisper of a voice in her focus becomes too prominent to ignore.

“If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace, then maybe time would not erase me. If you could only know I never let you go.” She hears the words through herself so clearly, she’s certain the words she can practically feel are the same as what’s written on the page between her mother's fingertips. She doesn’t understand it, but somehow she knows.

It’s him. Luke. Her big brother.

Her wrist flashes hot for a second, startling her enough to abandon the tight locked gaze she has on the empty space behind Julie and look down at her reddening skin. “And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily.”

A cold shock ran through her body in contrast to the searing hot pain circulating her wrist. She sniffled when the last sung Emily sounded through her body, the vibrato sounding so close to her it was paralyzing. When she found her bearings and the jelly like feeling in her legs dispersed to her heart, she looked back up at Julie.

With one last fleeting glance towards the empty space behind Julie, the sight of a blue-eyed boy looking tearfully beyond herself, calmed the burn in her wrist. She made eye contact with the boy, a name fitting comfortably on her tongue despite the impossibility of it all.

“Luke…”

#unsaid emily #julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie and the phantoms luke #julie molina #jatp luke #luke jatp #charlie gillespie #netflix #netflix julie and the phantoms

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quillsandtypos · 3 years

Text

Our Stars Collided- Part 4 (2/2)

Summary: As the reader finds herself joining an on the rise ghost band, she quickly makes friends with the bassist. But how long can she keep herself away from the lead guitarist?

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: tickling and more sexual tension

Pairing: luke x reader, brief mention of willex

I had too many text blocks so I had to split this in two parts

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You wished you could say that the following three days flew by, but it felt nowhere close to it. As a result of the two of you needing to wait until the next weekend for your prank, Reggie and Luke had taken this to stage as many pranks as they possibly could. You couldn’t even walk around your house without potentially setting off a booby trap. So far you had walked into plastic wrap, had glitter exploded all over you, ate toothpaste, and not to mention the countless times Luke had popped in and scared the daylights out of you at school.

Luke had stayed true to your agreement on your bedroom being a peace ground, but it seemed like Julie was not nearly as lucky.

She came to stand beside you at your locker and she did not look happy. “They are so going to regret fucking with me,” Julie hissed.

Julie occasionally cussed, but it wasn’t that often that it was directed at people, so whatever they had done must’ve really pissed her off.

You sighed. “What did they do now?”

“They had alarms going off in my room at two in the morning.” You turned to her to see a glare in her eyes that might’ve killed them if they weren’t already dead.

“Wait, plural alarms? Like how many?” you nervously asked.

“Like enough that I’m almost certain they had to rob a store. I didn’t know I even had that many hiding places in my room,” Julie huffed.

“Well you know what they say, people who set alarms get scared.”

Julie’s glare faded to a puzzled but amused look.

“No one says that,” she retorted.

You shrugged. “Well now I do, come on we gotta get to first period before we prank the hell out of those losers.”

By the time school was out you were practically bursting with excitement about your plans later that evening. You kept your cool and rehearsal went smoothly. You came home and showered before texting Julie that you’re parents, while they were a little confused on why you were going to her house at two in the morning, had agreed to let you stay the night.

Around midnight you went downstairs to make yourself a coffee since you were running a little low on energy.

You hummed quietly to yourself as you put things back into your fridge, and you headed back to your room. You watched netflix for a bit before packing your bag and heading to your car. You quickly pulled into her driveway and turned off your headlights. Luke and Reggie weren’t currently in the studio; Alex had managed to get them away for five minutes so you could pull into the driveway without raising any suspicion. He just had to make sure that when they poofed back that all of them poofed into the studio so they wouldn’t know you were there.

You went to knock at the door but Julie opened it before you could.

She quickly motioned for you to come inside.

“You ready?” you burst out.

“Yes! Here I’ll show you where my room is,” she excitedly explained. As you entered her room it felt like you were being comforted by the energy that Julie gave off. The room was perfectly decorated to show every part of who she was.

“Oh, you have to try something!” she suddenly remembered.

“What?” You were still looking around the room.

She pointed. “Jump onto my bed and lay on it.”

You gave her a nervous side eye. “Didn’t Reggie get in trouble for doing that?”

She lightly wacked your arm, “That’s because he’s not supposed to come into my room without knocking.”

“Funnily enough, he chose to leave that part out of the story,” you chuckled.

Julie chuckled with you and crossed her arms. “Okay, now go!” she insisted.

You figured why not, so you took a running start at her bed before jumping and landing softer than you were expecting.

Oh my god, was her bed soft. It was like you could just melt into it and with the fuzzy blankets on top of it you felt like you could fall asleep right there right now.

A noise interrupted your comfy hazy thoughts.

You opened your eyes to see it was Julie snapping.

“See, was I right or was I right?” she teased.

“Maybe,” you sleepily admitted.

“Come on.” She pulled you off her bed, “we got a prank to set up before Alex gets back.”

The two of you marched down to the studio and made light work of your set up. You place a speaker right by the door, hidden in Alex’s drum set. Another one in the loft, one by the piano and one above the door. You placed your pepper shaker and your sign right in front of the door, and you set up the blanket that would drop over top of them. In the past week the three of you, with the help of Alex’s boyfriend, had managed to build a holding system that would drop once a tiny string was pulled. Once everything was set up. You chose your position behind the couch, and Julie chose the corner where the plants were. Now all that was left to do was wait. You gave her a thumbs up from around the corner and she motioned it back to you.

A couple of minutes later you heard a couple poofs in almost unison. They had landed right where you wanted them to; the show was about to begin.

“Wait, guys did either of you two do this?” Alex gestured towards the piece of paper on the ground. Of course, Alex knew exactly who wrote that, but his acting was all a part of your grand scheme.

Reggie looked curiously at the piece of paper and reached down to pick it up. “It says I know your secret,” he told them.

“That’s weird, we don’t have any secrets, ya know apart from my secret hidden talent on the banjo,” Reggie grinned.

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s not it,” Alex sarcastically responded.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it has to do with the fact that we’re ghosts, Reg,” Luke commented.

A lightbulb went off in Reggie’s head. “Oh yeah, that would make more sense,” he realized.

“Wait, what’s that?” Luke nervously asked. He pointed to the jar next to the note.

“It’s a pepper shaker.” Reggie picked up the jar and shook it side to side for emphasis.

Luke seemed to calm down as he released a breath.

“Guys?” You would’ve thought Alex had seen a ghost if it weren’t for the fact that you knew he was acting.

“Yeah?” Luke questioned.

“Do you remember the movie ghostbusters?” Alex looked at them with wide eyes, and Reggie suddenly backed up.

“Do you think they’ve found us?” Reggie fearfully asked.

Luke looked a little nervous. “Guys, it’s probably just Julie and y/n pranking us,” he suggested.

You instantly got a little nervous that your plan was going to fail, but Alex was quick on his feet.

“Why would they be pranking me? I’ve been on their team,” Alex argued, while still staying in character.

Luke seemed visibly pale when he realized Alex had a point, Reggie looked like he was about to pass out.

Julie took their moment of fear as the perfect moment to set the rest of your plan into play. The speakers all mimicked the wind, but not exactly the peaceful kind, more like the kind just before a storm hits. The boys were all holding onto one another as they tried to figure out where the noise was coming from. As the sound played you quickly reached out to grab the pepper shaker and you placed a different paper slightly farther away. You got back behind the couch just as Julie made the wind stop.

“What’s happening?” Reggie trembled in fear.

“Guys, where did the pepper go?” Alex pointed to the now empty floor

“Oh no, we’re gonna die,” Reggie cried out.

“Reg, we’re already dead!” Luke yelled back.

“Oh right, yeah,” he remembered.

“So this is probably gonna be worse,” Luke shuddered.

“Oh no,” Reggie groaned. He gripped his friends tighter.

“What’s that?” Luke looked over at your other paper.

The three of them waddled over to your piece of paper and as they leaned down to read it you hit the button that would drop the blanket on them.

As soon as he felt something touch him, Reggie screamed and hit the ground. Luke let out a high pitched yell before trying to jump back, but he was accidentally pulled to the ground by Reggie. You and Julie attempted to pop out of your hiding spots and move over to them but you were both rolling on the ground laughing hysterically, so Alex poofed over. Reggie was frantically trying to get out at the same time as Luke, but they didn’t seem to be getting anywhere so Alex lifted the blanket off of them. Reggie and Luke tumbled onto the floor.

“What, just, happened,” Reggie panted.

“You just got pranked,” you said before high fiving Julie, and Alex.

Luke was in disbelief. “You were in on it the whole time?” he asked Alex.

“Yep,” he said proudly.

“You should’ve seen your faces,” Julie laughed.

“Oh no, what’s that on the floor,” you mocked Luke. He scowled at you, but he couldn’t hide the slight smile on his face.

Reggie continued to pant for a minute to try to get his heart rate down, but eventually he did. “I have to admit, you guys got us pretty good,” he crossed his arms and smirked.

“Thank you Reggie, you know I might just forgive you for betraying me,” you added dramatically.

Alex squatted down towards Luke. “What about you, are you gonna be a sore loser?”

Luke grinned, maybe a little too evilly in your opinion.

“No, you guys win,” he admitted. He offered Alex a high five, and before you knew it Luke had pulled Alex to the ground and was wrestling him. Since you couldn’t do much to help your teammate, you just watched as Alex got pinned to the ground.

“Luke don’t do it!” Alex threatened.

“What? This?” Luke mockingly asked. He pulled one of Alex’s arms up and started quickly playing guitar on his armpit.

Alex’s scream could’ve rivaled Reggie’s earlier one as he instinctually brought his legs up. The situation at hand was rather cute. You, Julie, and Reggie watched fondly for a moment as Luke continued tickling him.

But after a little while, Reggie figured Alex had had enough. “Alright, Luke let him up,” Reggie told him.

He reluctantly did but not before swiping a finger across his neck. Alex snorted and giggled.

“See, this is why we don’t betray our friends,” Reggie playfully warned him.

You loudly faked a cough, “Says someone who betrayed a friend.”

Reggie looked so offended, you were almost worried he didn’t know you were kidding.

“So what do you say Luke, are you willing to admit you were defeated?” Julie teased.

Luke rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “You guys won,” he admitted.

“What was that? I don’t think you said it loud enough,” you egged him on.

Luke stood up to be face to face with you as his focus landed entirely on you. Your breath caught in your throat.

“You wanna end up pinned too?” he threatened. His smirk was infatuating and also somehow infuriatingly hot.

“Good try, but you can’t touch me,” you reminded him.

He took a step back “I guess you’re safe then for tonight,” he concurred, but the fire in his eyes had not dulled.

You turned around to see Reggie suddenly turn the other way, but then you looked towards Julie.

“We should probably go to bed shouldn’t we?” you suggested.

“Probably,” Julie sadly agreed.

You weren’t too happy about it either, but it was nearing four in the morning, so you said your goodnights to the guys and headed up to Julie’s house. You both quickly fell asleep in her soft, cozy bed.

timE

You woke up at around noon, which was not all that surprising considering the time that you went to bed. You looked over to see that Julie was already awake, since she wasn’t there. You put on a sweatshirt over your pj’s and headed down the steps.

“Hi, y/n!” Ray greeted you.

“Hi Ray!” you enthusiastically responded. You hadn’t spoken with Ray a lot of times, but all the times that you had were quite pleasant.

“What are you girls up to today?” he asked, as he looked at something on his laptop.

“Actually, I was hoping you could tell me, I’m looking for Julie,” you explained.

“Oh she’s in the living room,” he pointed.

“Thanks!” you called out.

You plopped down on the couch right next to her.

“Goodmorning,” she yawned.

“Morning,” you responded, biting back your own yawn.

“So what are we doing today?” Julie looked at you.

“Right now I’m just waking up,” you laughed. You sat in a comfortable silence for a while as netflix played in the background.

“Do you wanna make chocolate chip cookies?” you suggested.

“Like right now?” Julie was slightly surprised.

“Yeah.”

She shrugged and smiled, “Sure!”

You read off the ingredients as Julie grabbed them from out of her kitchen, since she knew where everything was.

“And chocolate chips is the last thing we need,” you spoke, as you put the list down.

“Did someone say chocolate chips?” Carlos chirped as he walked in.

“We did, but they're not for you,” Julie quipped.

Carlos pouted, “You’re no fun.”

Julie scoffed. “But we’ll let you have some after we’re done,” she offered.

“Mhm, seems fair. Julie and Julie’s friend, I will see you later,” he announced as he walked out of the room. You had to smile at his antics.

“You’re brother seems nice,” you commented.

“Oh, he is, he’s just also my brother, and a dork,” she explained.

“That’s usually how brother’s go,” you agreed.

She agreed and moved to start putting ingredients together, and within the next twenty minutes your cookies were ready to go in the oven. The oven beeped to let you know it had reached its heat and you slid the cookie pans into the oven. The two of you just hung out in the kitchen and chatted as you waited for them to cook, you even started coming up with ideas for your next gig. Halfway through your conversation, your timer beeped.

“I’ll get it,” Julie offered.

As she pulled them out of the oven the sweet smell of chocolate chip cookies filled the air. They were almost perfectly done, they were golden brown, and just slightly brown on the bottoms.

Just as you were putting them on a cooling rack Luke came through the door.

“What smells so good?” he questioned.

“We made cookies,” you gestured to the rack in front of you.

“They look so good,” he groaned.

You felt a pang to your heart, as you remembered he couldn’t eat anymore.

“I’m sorry Luke,” you apologized.

“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” he tried to play it off like he wasn’t bothered, but it wouldn’t take a genius to know that he was.

Julie spoke up, “You guys wanna go watch some youtube on the tv?” she suggested.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Luke?” she asked.

Luke shook from his daze, “What? Oh, yeah,” he also agreed.

You grabbed a couple cookies on your way out, you handed a couple to Julie. The three of your settled in on the couch, with you in between the two of them. You weren’t really paying attention to the video but you also weren’t necessarily paying attention to what was happening around you either. It was probably a part of staying up till four in the morning you figured. But as you almost dozed off you realized with a start that someone had snatched your cookie from you hands. Your eyes jolted open to see that Luke was holding your cookie.

“What are you doing?” you groggily asked.

“I’m snatching your cookie,” he quipped. He leaned forward to look at Julie. “Did I use that right?”

“Yep!” she assured him, though it wasn’t without a small snicker; which, he chose to ignore.

He leaned back into the couch rather smugly.

“Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuke,” you whined.

“What?” he pretended to be innocent.

You did not have the energy to think of a witty remark right now.

“Can I have it back?” you pleaded.

“What’s the magic word?” he tauntingly asked.

“Give me my damn cookie back Patterson,” you threatened.

“Wrong answer!” he yelled. He plopped the cookie in his mouth without a second thought. Every single time time they had tried to eat food it just went right through their mouths before they could chew it, it would come out fully untouched and unmarked. So Luke was very surprised when the cookie did not leave his mouth. He went to bite down on it and he could taste it and all of its goodness.

“Julie!” he exclaimed.

“What?” her eyes were glued to the screen.

“Look!” he yelled.

“Luke I don’t wanna see the food in your- oh my god you can eat!” she realized halfway through her sentence.

“I’ve gotta get the guys!” he announced before poofing out. Seconds later he poofed in with the guys.

“Here just try them,” he coached Reggie and Alex.

Reggie and Alex both took a timid bite before shoving the whole rest of the cookie in their mouths.

Reggie’s eyes were massive, Luke had a laser like focus, and Alex looked like he was in a whole other realm. Julie and you just stood in the kitchen as they proceeded to eat almost two batches of cookies. You couldn’t really blame them though, especially since they hadn’t eaten in twenty-five years.

“How did you guys manage to make these?” Alex questioned.

“That’s the thing, we have no idea why ours are special,” Julie admitted.

“I can tell you why, it’s because you guys are amazing,” Reggie said, with a mouthful of food.

“Thanks Reg, but I doubt that’s it,” you reasoned.

“I bet it is,” Luke argued.

“Luke I don’t think-” he cut Julie off.

“What if this has something to do with you two being the only ones who can see us? And because you two are the ones who made this, and you have the ability to see us, it makes the cookies be edible to us?” Luke theorized.

You thought for a moment.

“That would sort of make sense,” Julie thought out loud.

“Right? It’s kinda how like our music is attached to our souls and your abilities would be attached to you and everything that you do,” Luke ecstatically explained.

“So what I’m hearing is that y/n and Julie can make us actually be able to eat?” Reggie questioned.

“Yes, were you listening to any of that?” Alex asked.

“No, I was mostly just thinking about how good these cookies are,” Reggie admitted.

“I-okay,” Alex left off.

“So what I’m hearing is that you guys will maybe make stuff more often, please?”

You looked at Luke who was pouting and making the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Glancing over at Julie, you could tell she felt bad for them too. She nodded at you.

“Alright, I suppose I could come over more often to make things,” you agreed.

“Yes!” Luke cheered.

“Thank you!” yelled Reggie.

“Thanks guys.” Alex looked over at the two of you appreciatively.

“But you do have to help with the messes!” Julie added. It only slightly dampened their spirits. But in no time, the kitchen was spotless, and the five of you headed back to the studio and hung out until you had to leave.

Taglist: @sunsetcurvej

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