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toomuchracket · 2 months

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it's only been a year (birthday party matty x reader fluff)

surprise! happy 1st anniversary of the blog, and therefore to these fuckers. love you all. enjoy <3

matty’s so glad you're here.

not that he doesn't love his job, because he really, really does - and, to be honest, playing music for lovely people with his best friends has never felt like a proper shift to him - but the touring sparkle is starting to fade a bit now. it's been nonstop for almost two years, the end of this album cycle is in sight, and, as much as he hates to admit it, he's not as young as he once was. the tiredness catches up to him faster, because the adrenaline doesn't last as long, and all the dancing around is taking a bit more of a toll on his body than it used to (which reminds him: put the knee support on before travelling tomorrow). what used to be hours-long hedonistic afterparties have turned into staying backstage for a couple of drinks at most, before hurrying to the hotel for a hot shower to soothe the muscles in the voice and the rest of the body, and then getting as much sleep as possible. arguably, not particularly rock'n’roll, nor very exciting.

but you're here. at the shows, on the planes and trains and buses, and, currently, cueing up an episode of derry girls from the bed in matty's (well, both of your) hotel room. and because you are, the sparkle is still there, still glimmering away like glitter under strobe lights. he's not in the habit of quoting or relating to abba songs (although it's been happening more often recently, probably because of your love for mamma mia), but matty thinks they hit the nail on the head in super trouper - he truly cannot be sad knowing you're in the crowd, seeing you dance along to his songs and smile at him like he hung the moon.

wrapping the towel around his waist, matty steps out of the bathroom, and immediately smiles (probably gormlessly) at the sight of you, frowning cutely as you try to get netflix to load; his heart melts when you push up your glasses, then turn to beam at him when you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. “hi, baby. how you feeling?”

“tired,” matty sighs, smiling again when you climb off the bed and peck him on the lips, before tugging him into a cuddle. he hums. “thanks, sweetheart.”

“s'ok,” you press a kiss to his chest tattoo, a move so tender that it never fails to weaken his knees. “d'you want me to make you a hot chocolate while you get ready for bed?”

matty pulls back to look at you, brow furrowed. “we have hot chocolate?”

“there's a setting for it on the coffee machine.”

“there is? i didn't notice.”

“yeah, it's in french.”

“oh,” matty laughs, kissing your head. “this is really a recurring thing for us, isn't it? you keeping me right with drinks in europe because you're the only one of us who can speak french. thank god you were a pretentious teenager, darling.”

you blink at him. “you're taking the piss out of me for being a pretentious teenager?”

“well, i’m not the one who learnt another language so i could read the original text of les mis,” matty smirks. “how's that going, by the way?”

your face takes on the adorably bashful expression matty loves so much. “haven't even finished it in english yet,” you say, before crumbling into laughter that matty can't help joining in on - fuck, he loves you so much. when he tells you as much, you kiss him again. “i love you, too. now - hot choc, or no?”

“i'll take one, please, darling.”

“okay,” you kiss his nose, beaming at the way he scrunches it when you do. “can you see if you can get netflix to work once you're dressed, please, babe?”

“course, darling.”

“thank you, lover.”

there's a final kiss, then you let go of matty and wander to the coffee machine; as silly as it sounds, because you're only about three feet away from him, he misses you as soon as you leave his arms. having you in them, being in yours… that's matty's favourite thing in the world, and he'd gladly sacrifice most other things in life to have it for five minutes longer every morning and night, ten more minutes per day of him just being yours and you just being his.

although, looking at you now, it's so clear that those things are true even without him holding you - the hoodie you're wearing is an old one of his (that honestly looks better on you), the boxers you're wearing as pyjama shorts are his, and he's preeeeetty sure the overly-long nike sports socks you're wandering around in are also his. he gives parts of himself to you, and you accept them gladly, proudly displaying that you're completely his; in heart and mind and soul, too, not just in wardrobe.

he still can't get over that. he doesn't think he ever will.

once he's dressed (clothes warm, because you were sweet enough to put them on the radiator for him) and the tv has loaded properly, matty settles into bed, beaming at you as you wander over with his drink and giggling when you place it on the bedside table and just crawl over him to get to your side of the bed. he kisses the side of your head as you snuggle into him. “you're not having one, darling?”

“nah,” you let out a world-weary sigh. “i've had far too much chocolate today as is. remind me never to agree to going to a gig in switzerland ever again. s'awful for my digestion.”

matty laughs. “or you could just, you know, not eat chocolate.”

you frown adorably at him. he laughs again. “or not.”

“thank you,” your face softens. “s'good, though. try the hot chocolate, see for yourself.”

“right,” matty takes a sip, humming happily at the rich sweetness. “mhmm. yeah.”

“amazing, isn't it?”

he nods, swallowing, then grins. “nowhere near as sweet as you, though.”

“oh, you sap!” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into matty’s chest in mild embarrassment while he giggles; he can feel you smiling through his t-shirt, though. “put the telly on, i can't cope.”

he obliges, free hand coming up to stroke your hair as you watch the episode in relative calm - that is, aside from the two of you constantly laughing at the onscreen antics, and from you covering matty's mouth in an attempt to stop him doing his god-awful impression of a northern irish accent. the whole experience is really domestic, as sweet as the hot chocolate matty finished ten minutes into the episode, the perfect end to a busy work day.

matty stretches when the episode ends, moving to wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your chest. “time is it, sweetheart?”

“ten past midnight,” you yawn; suddenly, though, you perk up. “oh! happy anniversary, baby!”

he smiles into your chest, dragging himself up to hover over you. “happy anniversary, my girl,” he coos, thumbs stroking your pretty face. “i love you.”

“i love you,” you smile. “kiss, please?”

matty nods, leaning down to press his lips to yours; on instinct, you open your mouth as soon as he does, soundtracked by a sigh that makes his head spin. even now, a year on from it, every kiss you share feels like the very first one up against the wall in the smoking area, full of passion and adrenaline and just total love and devotion that you'd both kept buried for each other for years. the only difference is that now, 365 days on, you know exactly how to kiss matty to make him melt - a moan slips from his throat as you softly swipe your tongue around the perimeter of his lips, which in turn makes you smile, and another follows when you gently bite his lower lip and drag it to release. but it's the way you beam at him afterwards, breathing just as heavily as he is, that gets matty most, makes him hug you as tightly as he can and press little kisses all over your face and hair and get you giggling (his favourite sound in the world).

once you've both caught your breath, kissed some more, and caught your breath again, you speak. “d'you want your anniversary present now, baby?”

matty grins. “yeah. you want yours?”

“yeah,” you beam. reaching across to your bedside table, you take out a little wrapped gift and hand it to him. “for you.”

“thank you, sweet girl,” matty kisses your forehead, rolling off you to pull a thin box from his bag at the side of the bed. “for you.”

“thanks, darling,” you kiss him softly. “go on, you open yours first.”

“alright,” matty carefully rips the brown paper - after smiling, lovesick, at for the love of my life written on it in your unmistakable handwriting - to find what looks like a zine, small enough to fit in his back pocket. he laughs in slight shock at the cover, displaying both of your first initials in a heart and subtitled year one, and this continues when he flicks through the pages. the very first has a picture of the two of you at that fateful birthday party, taken by a friend across the table, as well as one of the receipt for dinner, with little hearts drawn on either side of the listing for your favourite wine; the next, a short typed-out musing ‘written on matty's couch. he's in love with me. he knows i'm in love with him. i've never been so happy in my life. i fell asleep thinking my heart might burst, and that feeling hasn't left me at all. this is true love. i know it now’.

flicking through the pages - he so badly wants to spend time poring over every single one, but he knows now isn't the time - matty feels the exact same way. you've always been shockingly good at gift-giving when it comes to him, but this… this is the best thing anyone's ever done for him.

he doesn't even think love is a strong enough word to describe how he feels about you, to be honest.

you smile when he tells you as much, lifting his hand to kiss it. “i'm glad you like it, baby. i had a lot of fun compiling everything. it was just constant reminders of how much i love you - although, i agree, it's not a strong enough word. maybe i should come up with an alternative. like how coleridge did with soulmate.”

“thank fuck he did, by the way,” matty sighs, leaning in to kiss you. “what would i call you otherwise?”

“i'm sure you'd figure it out. you're very good with words.”

“not when it comes to you, darling,” he smiles. “and that's actually relevant to your gift, so…”

“point taken,” you wink, lifting the lid. your beautiful face takes on a confused expression as you lift out a thin, a3-sized hardback book. “this looks like one of your lyric books from stage…”

“it does, a bit, yeah.”

“...and it has my name on the front,” your jaw drops, and you open the book so frantically that matty can't help but giggle; he laughs even harder when you look up at him, aghast. “this is a score. you wrote me a song?”

“kind of, sweetheart. i mean, i've written you lots of songs already-”

“but none explicitly with my name!”

“no, that's true,” matty moves to sit behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. he feels you relax immediately, which is good, because for a second he thought you were about to go into genuine shock. “and this one is slightly different in another way, too.”

“it is?”

“yeah. look - there aren't any lyrics,” he takes your hand in his own, dragging your finger over the score to show blankness where the words would appear over the stave. “when i said a minute ago that i wasn't good with words when it comes to you, i mean it. you're literally the only person in the world that can render me speechless; trying to concisely convey everything i love about you in words that 1) made sense and 2) worked in a song was impossible. so i figured i would just let the music do the talking,” matty kisses your head. “no lyrics, parts for almost a full orchestra plus the instruments i'm used to writing for… this isn't a song, darling, it's a symphony, the one that plays in my head whenever i think about you.”

“matthew,” your voice is shaky when you say his name; when you turn to look at him, he notices your jaw is too, the telltale sign that you're about to burst into tears. “i think you're absolutely fucking mental. and i love you, i love you, i love you,” your voice cracks into a sob on the last you, and you bury your face in your boyfriend's neck while you cry. “that's the most romantic thing anyone could do, i think, and you did it for me. what the fuck!”

matty giggles, caressing your back and kissing your head soothingly. “s'the least i could do, really.”

“oh, shut up.”

“alright,” he coaxes you out of hiding, wiping your tears away and kissing your nose. “i'll play it for you when we get to a piano tomorrow, yeah?”

“i'd like that,” you peck his lips. “thank you, my love.”

“you're welcome, darling. and thank you for the little zine about us - can't wait to read that tomorrow, too.”

you nod happily - suddenly, your eyes widen. “wait! that reminds me: i got you something else too. and i want us to use them tomorrow.”

“let's see, then,” matty sits up in anticipation, but almost immediately slumps back down exasperatedly when he sees the rolling papers in your hand. “baby…”

“what? it's on-theme!” you grin. “it’s paper! the thing you're meant to give and get to celebrate a first anniversary. and, let's be serious, it was me wanting to smoke that got us here, wasn't it?”

“you’re incorrigible, sweetheart,” matty shakes his head, hand tracing patterns into your thigh; he can't help but smile, though. “but alright - tomorrow, at some point, we'll smoke.”

“promise?”

“for fuck's sake,” he sighs. “i promise, even though i think you're demented.”

you beam. “thanks. i love you!”

“i love you, too, darling.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 1 year

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Mamma mia | chapter three

listen to: Gimme!Gimme!Gimme! - Abba (Movie cover) | Save your tears - The Weeknd (playlist here)

warnings: accidental pregnancy, smut 18+, raising a child alone. warnings will be added as the story progresses. For this chapter fainting, sexual assault

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

As soon as you stepped out of the Uber, you had a feeling that tonight wasn’t what you’d expected.

The sound of the loud music and chatter filled your ears, and the smell of alcohol and weed hit your nose. Your brows pinched as you gazed back at James.

“Are you serious?” you asked as you gazed at the house.

It was a college party. People were doing keg stands in the backyard, you could hear them counting and cheering for whoever was doing it. There were boys in the entrance with sunglasses asking people for money, eyes roaming the bodies of the girls that desperately wanted to enter, and people puking on the front lawn while their friends laughed.

“Are you serious?” you repeated as you glared at James.

James stared at the scene while Augustine grimace as she saw another girl puking. God, the music was so loud, the police were going to bust this in a matter of seconds.

“Relax,” James said. “We’re twenty-three, not fifty,”

“And they are like fifteen,” Augustine said as she scrunched her nose slightly.

“We said this summer was going to be messy,” James said as she took a cigarette from her purse and placed it on her lips.

“Fun, we said fun,” you narrowed your eyes at her. “We could’ve gone to the Hard Deck,”

“Next time, now come on,” James said as she took a hold of your hand and pulled you to the party.

As you walk up to the front door of the house, where a group of people is huddled together smoking cigarettes, you winced when you felt your heels sticking to the mud in the front lawn.

“I wasn’t promised this!” you complained while James snickered as she let the smoke out of her mouth. James only smoked when she was at these types of parties, she knew you and Augustine hated the habit but she couldn’t quite quit it.

“You’ll thank me later!” she said before she walked up the porch.

James talked for you to the guys wearing sunglasses, even though it was past 10:00 pm already and the sun was nowhere around.

Quickly, they performed their routine, eyes roaming your legs and then the short skirt you were wearing, the revealing tube top that let them a clear view of your collarbones. You quickly wrapped yourself in the oversize white dress shirt you’d chosen to wear while you glared at them. You felt so stupid with that bandage on your arm but you still didn’t give them much thought. Then, they gazed down at Augustine. With a nod at you, they let you pass, and you made your way inside.

The room was packed with people, and you immediately felt overwhelmed. The living room is transformed into a makeshift dance floor, and people are jumping and swaying to the music. Screaming and whatnot, you try to move in the sea of what surely were intoxicated college students.

“What do we do now?” Augustine shouted over the music.

James shrugged as she took in the scene, the Monalisa smirk that was perpetually drawn on her face lit up, and she gazed back at you.

“Whatever we want!” she replied, finally grinning before she took off.

You watched her as she went to a table where people were taking shots and playing beer pong. Augustine and you held hands for a second as you stared at the scene.

“I’ll get us something to drink!” Augustine said with a grin.

At least Augustine didn’t leave you alone. At first.

Augustine offered the drink she made with her amazing bartender skills, at least that’s what she’d said while beaming at you. You winced as you gulped down the drink, apparently a mix of pineapple juice with a triple measure of vodka.

By the fifth drink, you weren’t too annoyed by the grinding idiots in front of you. The music changed eventually, and after a few drinks, Augustine pulled you onto the dance floor. Moving your hips to the beat you decided to let loose, it felt good to let go and have fun, even if you weren’t quite comfortable with the party.

By your eighth drink, Augustine was teetered to a guy that had been gazing at her almost since your fourth drink. You lost her by your tenth drink, sipping on the red solo cup you closed your eyes as you felt the beat of the music, tracing your hands delicately over your body felt good, the satisfying buzz of the alcohol in your bloodstream, drinks clouding your thoughts.

Calling Bob tomorrow. Definitely, that was your first thought, or you could’ve called him at that moment. Yes, that was your second thought until you recalled that you didn’t have his number. You pouted, eyes still close. You should’ve taken his number. This summer was the one you wouldn’t care about but you would remember, asking a guy for his number shouldn’t be badly seen. You needed to be different, you wanted to be different so badly, and you wanted to stop holding yourself back.

By the time you felt the hand on your lower back and your eyes snapped open, you realized that you were definitely tipsy. Before you knew it, you were swapping the arm away from your body as you turned around with a frown. Tall and muscular, not a good smile, and definitely drunker than you.

"Hey there, I don't think I've seen you around here before," he said, his words slurred.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

If this had been you ten drinks before, maybe you wouldn’t have said anything. You might’ve walked off from the makeshift dance floor, but you didn’t.

“Touch me like that again and I’ll break your hand,”

You were definitely bordering on drunk now, you realized as you stood your ground but lost a bit of balance even if no one had touched you. The guy scoffed as his friends laughed at him.

“Not my fault you’re wearing the shortest skirt around,” the guy said, towering over you as his eyes roamed your body. “Honestly it’s a fucking invitation,”

Your whole body feels like it’s vibrating, anger rushing through your blood as you tilt your chin up to look at the Frat guy.

“Like I would be interested in a guy with probably the smallest dick in the whole house,” you scoffed at him, eyes glued to his. Not backing down.

That’s when you see it when you should probably give a step back because his eyes suddenly turned dark. Your lungs are burning up, hatred swelling your chest and then in the back of your mind, there’s a slight sense of danger. It’s drowned out by the drunken haze you found yourself in.

Without warning, his hand moves towards your body, reaching and finally managing to graze the curve of your ass before hell breaks loose. Honestly, you aren’t sure what you were thinking. No one actually knows, because quickly pull a left hook and hit him right in the jaw, his head snapping to the side from the strength of your hit before you feel a strong set of hands holding you tightly by the shoulders while another one pushes you back to your chest and then gives the guy a second blunt to his jaw.

“FUCK!” You screamed loudly before you could actually take in the scene as you held your injured wrist, letting your body rest against the strong chest that was holding you.

“You ever touch her or anyone like that again and I’ll swear I’ll break your fucking nose,”

There’s a slight Texan accent on his words, you can perceive it even through the pain and the drunken haze. It sounds like the first bite of a crisp apple, the way wood crackles under the fire, the pop of a champagne rock. It overwhelms you, pain and drunk buzzing, through it all, his voice is the one thing that keeps you grounded.

“Honey, are you okay?” James’ voice made you snap your eyes open, only then did you realize that tears are running down your cheeks

You bit your lower lip as you shook your head, the pain was thumping hard through your wrist, it felt like your heart had been dragged there. As if you were holding it with your right hand.

“Javy, we may need to take her to the hospital,” James said as her chin tilted up to the person, Javy, who was holding you tightly against his chest. Closing your eyes, you realize that you didn't care that you didn’t know him, you allowed him to hold you, and for some reason it made you feel safe.

“Is she okay?” his voice made you snap your eyes open, and there he was.

You noticed his eyes first. You always noticed eyes first for some reason, they were green, the green that the water turns under the right light on a sunny day when the sun sets in the softest way possible, with no cues of orange or purple, just hazel and golden. His eyebrows were furrowed in a certain way, creases appearing in the middle of his forehead as he shook his left hand softly, probably because his knuckles were beating too from hitting the guy square in the jaw. A smile tugged on your lips as you watched him.

He was older than the guys there, you could tell, even older than you. You estimated the late twenties, a worrisome feeling on the back of your neck asked why he was doing there if he was older but then you recalled James and you tried not to judge him immediately, Then, your eyes fell on his arms -his biceps-, toned and peeking out from the tight white shirt he was wearing. It passed through your mind that you were checking him out but how could you not, dangerous half-smirk, broad shoulders, tanned, tousled short blonde hair.

You wondered if you stare at him too long. You could’ve blamed the alcohol but it was your body, you couldn’t help how it reacted to him. The sizzling heat under your cheeks, the way your heart stuttered for a second when his sea-foam green eyes fell on you, the way goosebumps erupted on your skin as he leaned closer to you, grazing your skin. But then that thumping pain on your wrist didn’t let you think anymore, you whined softly as you held it.

“Who are you guys?” you whispered as you stared at him.

“Honey, this is Jake and this is Javy,” James said as she took a strand from your hair and placed it on the back of your ear.“They are our new friends,”

You nodded slightly before tears began to stream down again, they knew their path already. Running through your cheeks, falling to your elbow, some running their way down your neck, into your collarbone. You weren’t sobbing by any means, it was one of those times when you couldn’t pull yourself together. It used to happen a lot when you were a teenager, you were perfectly fine but tears would be streaming down. You guessed it was the alcohol.

“Are you actually okay?”Javy said as he let go of you slightly.

Jake frowned, his eyebrows pinched. “She’s crying, of course, she’s not okay Coyote,” he said incredulously, quickly taking a hold of you when he realized that you were losing your balance.

“Who’s Coyote?” you asked, as you leaned into his chest a bit, seeking warmth, everything was suddenly so cold.

“Javy,” James said as she passed a hand through your hair softly, you whined. Everything swirled for a second, you closed your eyes as you nuzzled further into his chest. He smelled like oranges. Fuck, you were drunk.

“That’s a stupid nickname,” you whined as you pressed yourself further into his chest. “I think I’m going to puke,” you sighed.

Javy quickly glared at James who quickly bit her lip, a smile tugging in the corners of her lips as well as Jake’s. He glanced down at you as he took your arm softly.

Your face was a performance. No, not from the crying or your pout, you were so beautiful it was hard for him to look away, it’d been hard since he first noticed you when James had pointed at you. Your cheeks were dusted with something shimmering and gold too, it sparkled like a mirrorball on the dancefloor. Even tainted with tears, Jake could see the spark, the way your long lashes struggled with the tears that fell down, the glassy look in your eyes.

“She needs to drink water,” James said as you let another whimper, hushing you as she placed her forehead against yours.

James usually didn’t act like that, it was all Augustine but sometimes, when she knew you were hurting, she was the most motherly of all. That’s how you knew that you really look bad.

“I’ll take her,” Jake suddenly said, quickly untangling you from Javy, and quickly pulling you towards him. He smelled like lemon and wood. The urge to vomit suddenly calmed down. You sniffed him, then worried about if he noticed. You hoped he didn’t.

He did but he found it strangely endearing.

“Are you sure?”James asked, there was a pointing tone to her voice.

Suddenly, you wrapped your arms around his waist, nuzzling further into his chest. Jake smiled slightly, as he gazed down at you and then he quickly wrapped his arms around you. You sighed contentedly.

“I’m sure,” Jake said as he began to walk with you toward the kitchen. “Go and have fun,”

As soon as you reached the kitchen, the fluorescent light made a wave of nausea rise from your throat but all of the sudden, you felt him getting a hold of your waist. Before you could even protest, he took your body and placed you on the counter without any effort. For a moment you felt embarrassed, your eyes were still closed and you were way too whiny. It must’ve been vodka. Or the pain. For a moment you’d forgotten about the painkillers they’d given you earlier.

You felt a bit disappointed in yourself. Tilting your head back, and closing your eyes, you exhaled a long fuuuuuuuuck.

“What was that?” he asked.

Opening your eyes, you stared at him offering you a glass of water. He was way too beautiful for his own good, you guessed. That smirk, god, he was so much trouble.

“Aren’t you the nicest cowboy?” you teased him, watching him through your lashes.

A slight smirk tugged on the corners of his until a grin appeared on his face. It made your cheeks burn too.

“Here, something that won’t actually fuck your liver,” he said as he offered the glass of water.

You took it softly from his hand, your eyes still trained on him. It’d to be the alcohol because you knew that back in New York you wouldn't have looked at him like that. The water felt good, the more you drank it, the more you thought you could actually see. The tunnel vision went away, the blurriness of it all dissipated, and nausea did too. The only thing that remained was the heat sizzling under your skin as you watched him, your heart stuttering when his eyes met yours in a certain way.

You couldn’t read him, though.

“Thank you for helping me with that douche,” you finally said, when you felt like your words wouldn’t stumble against one another as they rolled out of your tongue.

Jake snorted softly as he passed a hand through his short blonde hair. “My pleasure, sweetheart,”

Without losing your balance, you jumped from the counter and left the glass on the sink. Always a perfect guest, he thought. Then you turned towards him, a curious glance beaming in your eyes as you stared at him, biting your inner cheek.

“What’s your name?”

“Jake Seresin,” he said, there it is again, the slight Texan accent. “Yours?”

You tell him yours, he smiles as he hears it.

“You have a stupid nickname like your friend?” you asked him. Maybe you were still a bit tipsy, you thought as you waited for his answer, hoping that you hadn’t offended him.

You didn’t. He laughed, shrugging shoulders slightly.

“Maybe,”

“Cowboy?”

“Nah, that isn’t original,” he answered, in a voice that neither confirmed nor denied whether this was true. You raised an eyebrow as you leaned a bit down, trying to move a bit.

Often, when you were past a certain number of drinks, your body felt numb. As if your limbs weren’t connected to your brain fast enough, soon you realized that stretching might help. Even if it looked weird, you didn’t really care at the moment.

“Then tell me, I’m drunk and hurt and you’re,” you stared at him, specifically at his eyes. You frowned slightly, following his line of vision, which ended up just under your collarbones. You scoffed. “You’re looking at my tits,”

You didn’t move though.

“No, I’m not,” he said, still looking at them, focused.

“You’re still doing it,” you rolled your eyes before you stood up straight, covering your body with your oversize shirt.

He didn’t seem ashamed though, which in turn, didn’t annoy you instead, it almost made you smile.

“I’m respectfully looking at your cleavage,” he finally said before meeting your eyes again.

You rolled your eyes. “God, you guys are all the same,” you said as you strode away from him. Part of you wanted to find August and James and get the hell out of there, another part wanted him to stop you.

He did.

“No, no, no,” he said as he caught your wrist, pulling you closer to him. “I swear, I’m not,” he said.

Lemon and wood, you tilted your chin to look up at him through your lashes. Hyperfocus on the way he held your wrist for a second, firm and soft at the same time before his hand snaked down and interlaced his fingers with yours.

“Yeah, sure cowboy,” you said before offering him a slow, catlike smile.

Jake bit his lower lip as he stared at you.

“Just dance with me, you’ll have a swell time and realize that I’m nothing like that guy,”

“I need to be very drunk before I do that,” you answered.

“I think we got that solved, darling,”

With glassy eyes and pink cheeks, you allowed him to circle you in his arms and pull you forward into the crowd of bodies. Matching the sway of your hips, you dance throughout the night. The music fills the room like water, seeping into every corner. It must be the drink or your state of mind, but every nerve in your body is glowing with heat you didn’t know you possessed.

A deep sense of faith fills your chest. Everything led you to this, to be here with him, to be held by him. To feel like this. He’s warm and you close your eyes the more you dance, every breath you take is jumping back and forth between a content sigh or a laugh. An electric jolt spread through your body each time Jake touched your skin as you danced. Soon, James and Javy joined you on the dancefloor, then Augustine with her beau of the night.

The night passes seamlessly. Drinking a bit more, dancing until your body is sweaty, you don’t recall doing anything else. At least, until James finally announces that the party has died and that you should go home. It’s ten past three in the morning when you guys manage to arrive at your place by walking and screaming old songs.

“Even though the guys are crazy, even though the stars are blind,” Jake and Javy sing along as James, Augustine and you are looking at them, smiles drawn up on your faces as you stare at the two best friends holding each other by the shoulders.

“If you show me, real love, baby. I’ll show you mi-i-ine,” you sing along now, Augustine and James holding your hips as you walk.

“I can make it nice and naughty,” Jake and Javy sing, soon Javy is wrapping his arms around James, holding her tightly against him as he sings on the curve of his ear and neck.

“Be a devil and angel too,” Augustine, Jake and you respond, you feel Jake holding your waist, you try not to blush anymore but you can barely control your body.

“Got a heart and soul and body,” James and Javy sing as you reach your place. “Let’s see what this love can do,” Augustine sings as she takes your keys and opens the door to your place.

“Baby, I’m perfect for you,” all of you scream as you enter your place.

James announces that Jake and Javy will be sleeping downstairs and that you girls were going to sleep upstairs and alone. Jake and Javy groan at the statement but truly they didn’t put up much of a fight, though you see the way Jake gazes at you but you’re too tired to even make a pass on him. Your body aches with every step you give as you climb through the stairs and reach your room.

You’d left your window open before you left, the moon is shining bright, and the moonlight enters your room just in the right way to allow you to discard your clothes without turning on the light. The sound of the waves crashing against the sand fill your room. Moonlight kisses your bare chest as you discard your top, as you discard your skirt leaving you with just your panties while you look for your oversize shirt.

Suddenly, you hear a noise. Snapping your hair towards the door, covering your chest fast, you see him standing in the frame of your door. He’s squinting but he’s still looking at you until your eyes meet his and he quickly looks away. You frown.

“What are you,”

“I’m not looking, I swear,” he said.

You raise an eyebrow, he’d already given you a good look, at least at your ass but you don’t mind as you quickly take your shirt and put it over your body.

“Weren’t you going to be down,” you said but he cut you off.

“Jamie came for Coyote,” Jake explained as his eyes remained closed. “I honestly don’t want to listen to my best friend having sex, can I just crash?” he asked.

His voice is soft and genuine. You stare at him, his eyes close, his jeans discarded, he’s only left in his boxers, shirtless too. For some reason you trust him, you know he’s not going to try anything. With a sigh, you walk towards him and take his hand softly, pulling him inside your room. He allows you to, opening his eyes to see you closing the door.

“We aren’t sleeping together, okay?” you said as you turned towards him.

“Okay,” he answers.

With a nod, you guide him to your bed. He accommodates into the small bed fine, you allowed him to go first given that he seemed already half asleep and you honestly didn’t care much which side of the bed he took, you were exhausted. Swiftly, you collapse on your bed with a pleasant sight, though, it’s hard for your limbs not to stumble with Jake’s.

He notices it right away, hyper-aware of your body heat, of how you feel. He wants to blame that he drank a bit, but he knows he just wants you close, quickly he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You allow him to, melting into his touch. You stare at him softly. He’s so beautiful.

For a second, your chest is hot as you trace with light feathers touching his face and his collarbone. Jake hums softly at the actions, allowing his eyes to drift shut, too tired to look at you but his chest is so full with the fact that you allow him to hold you. You were thankful that he allowed you to drink the sight of him.

“Jake?” you whispered.

“Darlin’” he responded.

Rising a bit from his chest, your lips covered his. It was soft, it wasn’t urgent or starving but it was so purposeful. He cupped your cheeks as he held you closer, you molded your body to his. Your mouth moves against him delicately, exploring each other, tasting each other. Vodka, lemons, honey, mint. It makes your whole body vibrate and you don’t pull apart until you finally remember that you can breathe. Softly Jake presses his forehead against yours.

“Thank you,”

SEVEN YEARS LATER.

You’d fainted before. One time, due to alcohol, seven years prior. It strangely didn’t feel as different as you were feeling now. Now, even though you were completely sober, you still felt a pounding headache as your eyes fluttered open.

“She’s waking up,” someone says. Opening your eyes slightly, you found the source of the hushed voice. It is raspy and velvety. A little bit stronger than before. “Give her some space,” he says.

Squinting your eyes meet his stunning caramel eyes. He looks way older now but strangely you feel the same way as he stares at you with concern clouding his features. Your limbs tingling, cheeks warming up, taking deep breaths. Is as if your body remembers him better than you do yourself. Feeling the warmth of his hands on the back of your neck is enough to send goosebumps erupting on your skin. And then he smiles, his pink lips, that characteristic smile that you often see on Inés.

“Please, tell me this is a nightmare,” you groan slightly.

Rooster frowns for a moment before he smiles again shaking his head at your comment. “It is nice to see you too, Honey,” he teases.

The way your name drops from his soft lips is enough to make you realize that this is for real, that he’s here again. Holding you. Without knowing that you have a child, a child that,

“Oh no,” you whine, closing your eyes. Wishing he would be gone. It’s childish, you know it. In such a vulnerable state though, you feel like you can be yourself with him even after all these years.

Rooster shakes his head with that smile. “Missed me that much?” he teases as he helps you stand up, he moves your body easily. Maybe easier than before, he has grown so much in the last few years.

You glare at him as you finally sit down on the floor while you close your eyes again. “Forgot how annoying you were,” you bite back.

He chuckles, his eyes gleaming as he watches you. You hadn’t changed that much from the day he met you, you were still as beautiful as the day he’d met you in this same place. You seemed different though, he wasn’t sure in what ways, but he could feel it. There’s a slight sharpness on you now, you’re all edges now. He remembers how much he adored how you laughed, it always made him feel warm and tingly on the inside. He has been thinking about that sound since the day he left.

“Here’s the glass of water,” another voice suddenly pops up from behind you. Snapping your head around you see him, those beautiful metal blue eyes.

It is almost an involuntary move on your part but you can’t help yourself, the corners of your lips tug and a smile is drawn on your face as soon as you meet his deep ocean-blue eyes through his gold-framed glasses. Those doe-eyes really do it for you. He’d been in your dreams before, only in your dreams, you realized as you gazed at him. Bradley had been in a couple of nightmares, but nothing major. Jake was often the source of them. Bob, though, was nothing but kindhearted. The sight of him made you forget for a second how afraid you were of actually seeing him.

And yet, you still answer in the same witty way that you know he used to relish.

“Floyd, tell me the truth, was it too bad?” you ask him, your nose scrunching slightly.

Bob’s lips tug into an unfamiliar smirk for everyone but you. Walking slowly, his steps bathed in confidence before he kneeled next to you, staring at you eye to eye, he answers. “I wouldn’t say it was awful,”

Bob didn’t have to say anything more, you know him like the palm of your hand. You can read him, even after years of not seeing him, you could always read him. He knew it’d been bad. You knew it’d been bad. Everyone in the damn place who was surrounding and whispering knew it’d been bad.

“God, it was awful,” you say as you place your palms over your face, embarrassment creeping in.

You instantly feel like that young girl again, so worried about what others might think. Under their eyes, for a moment you felt like you were twenty-three again. Twenty-three and lost. Twenty-three while thinking about a future that never came.

“Come on, kid,” you hear Penny calling from behind, she was placing her phone in her back pocket. “Let’s get you to the booth,” she instructs.

Bradley and Bob nod as they hold your hand. You barely have to do any physical effort, between the two of them, you feel like a feather. People are still watching you from afar as you groan while sitting in the booth, Bradley and Bob watching you carefully, concern creasing their features. They both look older now that you have them so close, it’s strange, you’d kept them young for so much time in your mind that it made your throat tighten a bit. So much had happened and they didn’t even have a clue.

“It wasn’t awful, by the way,” Bob says as he offers you the water again. You smile politely and you take a sip and watch them carefully. Even if their features had aged, their eyes hadn’t. You’d spent so many nights watching them, thinking about them, wishing they weren’t around, and now you didn’t even know if you should speak.

“You’re lying but I appreciate you,” you say. “God, how long it was out?”

“Around 6 minutes?”

Bob notices how your nose scrunches as you let out a long fuuuuuuuuck with your breath. You still did it, even after all those years. Looking away from them, you sip on your drink, your eyes moving even though you zoning out. You tended to do that back then, you hadn’t changed, an internal dialogue with yourself was something Bob wished he could be part of.

“Have you eaten something today?” he asks.

He knows you haven’t. He can see it, he knows -knew- you so well. He could detect these things, he could tell when you hadn’t eaten, when you were in a mood, when you didn’t sleep. You remember he did. Wishing you weren’t so transparent in front of him, you look down, away from him. It feels like you’re under a microscope under his gaze.

Wondering how long would it take him to notice that you were keeping something from him. Though, he never found out.

You shake your head. “I didn’t sleep either,” you explain.

“Honey,” Bob says, shaking his head, slightly annoyed.

It’s almost as if you could hear him telling you that you have to take care of yourself. He said it back then. You took his advice, you didn’t only take care of yourself but of Inés too. You’d change. Bad habits though, don’t leave you that easily.

“Wait, do you know Bob?” Bradley suddenly asks. The puzzlement in his features is enough for you to know what he’s thinking. Racking his brain, trying to understand why Bob and you know each other so well, why there’s an ease to your conversation, why it seems like you know Bob as well as you know Bradley.

Bob frowns at his question. He turns to Bradley with the same hint of discomfort in his metal blue eyes. “Do you know her?” he asks.

One time your mother said that you were lying to yourself. Self-sabotage she later called it, delusion was another word that came up too. You were good at it. So very good that you often didn’t realize when you were doing it, like when you were twenty-three and in a messy love square and you were telling yourself that you could’ve avoided the consequences of it. You’d lied to yourself to the point that you didn’t believe anything could go wrong. The longing for living without the responsibilities and the pressure you’d felt since you were a child was one hell of an excuse for your behavior.

It wasn’t anymore. You’d grown out of it or at least, self-awareness. Now, you were good at realizing you were lying to yourself. Even more now as you watched the two pilots, the creases on their foreheads, the way they were racking their brains trying to put the puzzle of how you knew each other in order. Maybe they’d met each other recently, a detachment, you argue with yourself even though you know exactly how they know each other.

“Do you know each other?” you ask, your voice soft, eyebrows raised as if to act surprised.

They turn to you and nod slowly, they are still confused. They are still inexplicably in awe that the girl that was probably the one that got away for them knew one of his friends. They are still trying to see if the times when they were spending late nights at a bar, talking about girls and past loves, they were talking about the same person.

“We were at Top Gun together,” Bradley says first.

“Yeah, seven years ago,” Bob continues.

“Oh,”

All of you fell into silence, a silence you could only describe as tricky. It was tricky to pretend to be surprised, it was tricky to even raise your eyebrows enough to make it credible, it was tricky to believe that their minds weren’t already turning, that their frowns weren’t becoming deeper as the seconds pass as if you didn’t notice the spark of confusion in their eyes.

Rooster noticed first, at least he was the one that made it more obvious. His nose scrunched slightly as he frowned.

“Wait,” Rooster repeated raising a hand as if I ask you to slow down. Bob turned to him, clocking exactly what was

Rooster actually asking. “How do you actually know each other?”

“I was going to ask the same thing,” Bob continued.

“Well, we,”

Someone suddenly gasped so loud that the three of you quickly snap your head towards the door. James felt like a tsunami sometimes, she would swarm the place, drown it quickly in her state of emotion. She burst into the Hard Deck as her eyes scanned the place before they found you. A wave of relief washed over you as you moved away from the booth, still feeling a bit woozy, and walked towards James who quickly engulfed your body into a hug.

“Penny called me,” James says out of breath, pulling away, grasping your shoulders, searching your face. “I came as soon as I could. Why did you- Have you not been sleeping well?”

“Jamie,” you answer softly as she placed her hand over your forehead. But she was on a roll, her maternal instinct spiked in the last few years, especially when Inés was born.

“I’m actually going to murder you if you don’t go to that Doctors appointment that I’ve been chasing you about, god!” she says loud

“Wait, James,”

She rolls her eyes. “I know what you’re going to ask. I didn’t leave her alone or bring her, I thought that I was going to go in an ambulance with you. August was home, she stayed with-,”

“THANK YOU!” you yell, quickly cutting her off before she mentioned her name.

James frowns only turning deeper as she searches your face. You don’t have to say anything, over ten years of friendship was enough for both of you to know each other well. Her gold-freckled eyes moved from yours, her head tilting slightly as she took in the view of Bradley behind you.

“Oh,” she says softly. “No, no,” she muttered mostly to herself. You didn’t move though, you wish you could’ve but you just freeze, looking away from Bradley as he walks towards both of you.

Bradley speaks first, confident as ever. “Nice to see you, James,” he says, you can taste the smirk in his words.

“What are you doing,” she begins but then she sees Bob walking towards her and you can feel her face dropping.

“Oh my god, is that,” you turn towards her as you see Bob timidly smiling at her. The smile on James’ face is too bright and big for Bradley to ignore as she walks towards Bob. “Bob Floyd,”

“Didn’t think you’d remember me,” Bob says softly as James places a hand on Bob’s shoulder. She has a wide grin as she examines him. You stare at the both of them, Bradley too, too perplexed to understand what’s going on as you feel your cheeks heating by the second.

“My dearest Rober, how could we ever forget you?” James says the grin is bright and the subtext is right there. James doesn’t have to say how she remembers Bob that well, it has been a running joke between the three of you since that summer.

She shouldn’t mention it, though, at least not in front of Bradley either.

You turn away, the warmth on your cheeks getting harder to undermine as Bradley’s eyes are fixed on James’ and Bob’s interaction. Thankfully, Penny strides towards you, interrupting whatever next line James would say.

“Ready to go to the Doctor?” Penny asks as she holds your shoulder, squeezing your shoulders affectionately.

You shake your head. “Penny, I’m so sorry for everything,” you say, voice trembling as you press your lips together.

“No, no,” Penny says as she caresses your cheek. “Please let me know if you’re okay,” she says. “Let me know if she’s okay,” she tells James as she walks towards you, finally leaving Bob and Bradley behind.

For a moment, you feel safe.

Until Bradley speaks again.

“Shouldn’t she stay longer?” Bradley asks. He’s worried but also, you know deep down that he wants to know more about you, he wants you to stay.

You frown. “She is right here, and she’s not a kid anymore,” you say.

It’s meaner than you meant it to sound, but you can’t help the bitterness it comes out. The nausea comes again, what if they found out what you’ve done? What if they find out?

“And she’s got to go,” James says as she takes your hand and pulls you away from Bradley and Bob, who keep burning holes in your back as you walk out of the Hard Deck.

But then you hear both of them, at the same time, turning towards them. The smile on both of their faces, the way they loved you back then, everything comes back.

“It was nice to see you, Honey!”

author's note: I'm so excited to listen to your thoughts!

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cindyloucrawford · 3 months

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mentally, I’m at the mamma mia 2008 wrap party

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lcrk · 1 month

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a number of the One for the Money cast members are singers and/or people who enjoy singing and/or former theater kids, and karaoke nights are a regular thing for groups of the cast to go and do on weekends. more than one cast member has a karaoke machine at their apartment for parties when they don't want to go out. more than one wrap party has devolved into drunken karaoke. lots of bloopers and behind the scenes footage features various cast members singing while waiting for action to be called, or breaking into song after flubbing lines. at one point during filming for season 2, a handful of the cast 'rewrote' the lyrics to Mamma Mia (the song not the musical) to be about forgetting lines/messing up on set. there's a lot of Abba sung on set just generally.

#headcanons – ( write books about me )

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mllx-anazra · 2 years

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Lay All Your Love on Me (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader - Smut)

Summary: Eddie's musical tastes do not include ABBA. You plan on changing that. By any means possible, even tempering with the sex times mixtape.

Read part.2 here, cross-posted on Ao3.

Warnings: Smut, explicit content so minors DNI, Eddie is a little shit, and you are a tease, lots of cussing, dirty talk, hope you like ABBA, I know I do bc Mamma Mia was my bisexual awakening (iykyk). First published smut in a while so be gentle.

Notes: Got sidetracked as I was writing part 4 of Tis the Damn Season. Technically this can be read outside of that series, but I wrote it as part of it. Also, I have ideas to make it a little series if y'all are interested. Enjoy!

That was it. Eddie had died and gone to heaven. There was no logical explanation other than this one to justify the state of pure bliss he found himself wrapped up in.

You, half naked on his bed, skin burning on his tongue with every caress of his mouth, hands tugging most deliciously on his hair, your moans a sinful symphony he could only hear over Black Sabbath’s Snowblind thrumming through the walls of his trailer, as his fingers brought you closer and closer and closer to your fall.

This, this had to be heaven, indeed.

“Oh Eddie, right there baby, right there! Don’t stop” how he wished he could burn the memory of your sweet pants at his very core.

“Got you angel, got ya. Are you gonna cum for me, mmh?”

Your eyes were screwed shut as pleasure steadily built in your core with each expert thrust of the metalhead’s fingers in your sex, his thumb exerting the most torturous pressure on your clit.

“Yes, yes, yesssss” you breathily chanted, your grip on Eddie’s glorious curls tightening as your orgasm crept, crept, crept. The previous song on your ‘fuck times’ playlist faded to an end and the click of the tape indicated the start of a new one.

The upbeat tone of a synch, abruptly clashing with the ballet of electric guitars and bass that characterized Black Sabbath, threw Eddie off his rhythm. As he kept working your body he knew better than the back of his hand, his mind slowly came back to his surroundings, and out of the sex trance, you had put him in with a glide of your finger along his throat as he tried (and failed) to focus on his chemistry homework moments prior.

The beat was unmistakable even before the chorus started and indignant outrage spread in the metalhead’s bloodstream, as he whispered screamed, scandalized:

“Is that fucking ABBA?? In our sex playlist??”

You peeled your eyes open, repressing a frustrated whine at the loss of friction that caused your orgasm to bubble down to quizzically look up to Eddie:

“Wha… Munson, did you just…?”

“Answer the question!”

“Yesssss, you dipshit it’s ABBA, got a problem with that??”

“Uh, YEAH! I’m not fucking you with some pop bullshit in the background?”

It was your time to turn indignant, any prospect of coming snatched away as the first verse came to a close. You glared at him as your breath steadied once again.

“What, the fuck…”

“I let it slide with The Smiths and that ONE song from Cindy Lauper, but fucking ABBA?? No, absolutely not. Absolutely fucking not. This is where I draw the line.”

Eddie punctuated his rant by peeling himself off you, utmost disgust scrunching his face as he stood up and left you spread on his bed, panties skewed and top bunched down to reveal one breast he had been furiously biting and squeezing only minutes ago. You were too stunned to even register as he made his way back to his desk, still shirtless, and pulled out the previously discarded sheet of chemistry exercises.

“Making me all horny and shit just to blast some ABBA like it’s the fucking Snowball or something.” He mumbled still indignantly to himself, shaking his head. “What is this, your Aunt Claudia’s fucking birthday party?”

“Munson,” you seethed, eyes burning holes in his head turned back to where you were still laying, the chorus blasting in Eddie’s cramped room. “If you don’t come back right this second to finish what you started, I swear to fucking Ozzy you will never, ever, get railed again!”

“I am not, engaging in any form of sex while this blasphemy you dare call music and add to the mixtape we fuck to plays in the background. Either we turn it off, or we wait for the next track. Your pick, sweetheart.” He spat, as he scribbled with renewed vigor on the homework in front of his eyes, white knuckles gripping your pencil.

“You motherfu… What is WRONG with you??? Who does not like ABBA?” you yelled, throwing a pillow he daftly ducked.

“I DON’T!!! Especially not when I’m trying to make you come!!!”

“It’s a sexy song!!! Lay all your love on me, c’mon dickhead!”

“No, it’s not!!” he scoffed. “It’s fucking sappy and gross! I’m not coming back until it’s done,” his resolute tone making you scream into his remaining pillow, not for the reasons you had hoped.

You huffed and puffed, kicking your feet like a petulant child, which was rich considering the sheer lack of emotional maturity the metalhead was demonstrating by denying you your well-earned right to orgasm. As the pre-chorus picked up, a delightful idea struck you, and you started humming the lyrics in rhythm with the song, prompting more annoyed grunts from Eddie’s crouched figure on his desk.

“Don’t go, wasting your emotions, lay all your love on meeee” you sang obnoxiously, slipping your top off and slowly working your breasts how Eddie would, if he was not up his metalhead high horses. Still, he refused to even glance on your direction, so you decided to ramp up your caresses and sing even louder.

He rolled his eyes and pestered under his breath some more, trying to block out the rustling sound accompanying your singing. It proved fruitless as a ball of fabric whacked the side of his head, too tiny for him to clock out with the corner of his eyes.

“What the fuck are you…” his scathing retort dying on his throat as he took your fully naked form displayed on the bed, legs spread out as your fingers filled the void he had left. His eyes lowered back to the balled-up lace and satin material he was fisting in his hand, brain catching up with the fact you had thrown your underwear at his face and were now proceeding to touch yourself as ABBA still made his sensitive metalhead ears bleed.

“Don’t go, sharing your devotion, lay all your love on… Oh!” you interrupted your own rendition of the song as your fingers grazed that special place inside your core, moans replacing the lyrics and making Eddie’s blood rush down his pants.

“How d’you… Why d’you… Hey, hey, hey, stop!” his mouth struggled to form words as his eyes darted between your leaking slit, your fingers digging in the flesh of your breast, eyes blazing as you unabashedly let him know how much you were enjoying yourself.

“Nuh-uh. You said you wouldn’t touch me while the song plays, but luckily, I have taste and absolutely love ABBA,” proving your point by breathing out the last part of your cheeky response as you started working on your neglected clit.

This was a new form of torture and Eddie thought he would combust as he twitched to touch you, but the third verse was yet to be finished. How long could a fucking dumb pop ballad from Sweden be anyways?? Apparently too fucking much for his aching cock, strained against his pants as a vein threaten to pop on the side of his face, while he munched on his lower lip hoping it could be your skin.

How you were enjoying yourself, giving him a show and delectating on his turmoil, humming along the final chorus until your breath hitched and you shut your eyes once more, creeping up once again the agonizing wave of your pleasure.

This prompted Eddie’s crumbling resolve to break, as he launched himself to the foot of the bed, begging as he went:

“Please, please, please angel stop, and let me, let me replace those fingers by my tongue, hang in there and I’ll make you cum so fucking hard you’ll forget ABBA even exists, just wait for this fucking song to end and I’ll, I’ll…”

His whiny pleas verging on hysterical led your swiftly to your downfall, the shock waves of your orgasm building and exploding across your body, a cry of pure ecstasy leaving your parted lips. The long-haired man cursed and whined high, as the fluids of your arousal lazily cascaded down your fingers to his sheets where he could not catch it as the song had yet come to an end. Like ABBA’s outro pleasurably faded away, you rode the waves of your climax with an unmatched satisfaction as you shot back, voice hoarse:

“That’ll teach you about broadening your musical horizons, you fucking snob.”

Eddie’s scoff quickly died down as he literally pounced on you the second the first notes of Iron Maiden could be heard through his speakers, tongue arching to take you right back to the height of pleasure.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie x reader #anazra writes #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic

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isabelguerra · 8 months

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every time i think im doing good The Song comes on and im smacked in the face with depressed college au.

wizards are on pause. its late august and max and isabel are setting up their new ac window unit, because the last one busted just as the weather broke 95f. theres too much indian takeout in the fridge and they cant eat it all before max leaves for his internship back in the city with a choreography studio, so they invite ed and johnny and stephen and ollie over to help them finish it off. RJs driving back to film school a few states over but they make everyone promise to make bad decisions. isaacs wrapping up his first residency and is going back to his second year psychiatry placement for a bit before applying to grad school and he bitches about them throwing a party without him with a smile.

isabels about to start her BA thesis, WHILE working on the Consortium Reform Project™, and shes determined but terrified by the workload. and the person whos there to sit with her on the couch during freakouts is about to be gone for a month. but its late and stephen would not let up on everyone trying this gross new artisanal beer he found that they all make faces at while watching Mamma Mia and laughing too hard. its difficult to worry about things when youre hazy and full of reheated tikka masala and everyones piled together on a couch and the guy who’s tucked on top of you is a 157lb makeshift heater.

then the mattress toppers get rolled out. spots claimed. they never kick everyone out when this happens, breakfast in the morning is always the nicest part. but the nights over and next to the warmth something empty starts to settle back in. so she stumbles back to her room, shuts the window. turns on a fan. lies there in the darkness on top of her covers. and stays awake for a long time

#the night before my best friends moved to california we got so drunk it was ths second time ive blacked out ever #they told me afterwards how i held both their hands the whole night. and never let go #depressed college au #paranatural #i got a request to put this in the tag so here you go man

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nightshift-clocking-in · 11 months

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Hi lovely, it’s my birthday today and i was wondering what mamma mia! Reg and james would do for their birthday!

Would they go out, stay in or have a small gathering?

I adore all your characterization’s and how you write!

Have a lovely day and week! ❤️

Hello Sweetie!!! Happy Birthday!!! I hope it was absolutely wonderful and fantastical and you spent it exactly how you wanted to!!! 🖤🖤🖤

So I think James would do a big thing, but definitely stay on the island!! James would probably find a reason to do karaoke, and sing off pitch—maybe dance on the tables—while confessing how much he loves Regulus and Harry. Reflecting on the year he’s had, and how much better of a year this was (with all the bumps aside). He would look forward to the time he gets with his new family, and be excited about spending quality time with them. Also I can’t explain it, but he would want one of those triple chocolate cakes say its the only time he can justify it. He is also the type of person who has birthday week, doing whatever he wants because ‘it’s his birthday’.

For Regulus there would be no big party. James would make him breakfast in bed, and they would catch a ferry to the mainland— and the first thing he would do is call Harry to talk to him. They would go every used book shop in the city, looking at all the different books. When there was one in Greek, Regulus would try to guess what it was about based on the cover, and James would tell him if he was right or wrong. Likewise, if they found french books James would try to guess what they were about, although his answers were always something completely ridiculous. They would go to dinner at a small but nice restaurant, and catch the last ferry home. It would be dark, and they would stop home briefly to drop off the book, make some tea and grab blankets before doing to sit under thier tree. Listen to the ocean, and watch the stars map out all the tragedies in the sky, and Regulus would be thankful that his story was not one of them.

And since it is your birthday here is a little mircofic, of a what-if for the Mama Mia AU where Regulus and James did not break up, and raised Harry on the island together.🖤

because it’s happier than any cannon stuff I could write 😂

please excuse all the typos, I did not edit it.

“Harry no jumping!” was all the warning Regulus got, he did not even have time to open his eyes before a human cannon ball was slamming into his back.

A winded groan escaped him as the toddler repeatedly jumped on his back, shouting at the top of his lungs “HAPPY BIRTH-DAY PAPA!”

Flipping them over, Regulus pinned the wild child under him, and wrapped him tightly in his arms.“What a nice pillow.” He said pretending to fluff the boy, before laying his head on Harry’s chest, listening to his heart pound wildly in his chest.

“I’m not a pillow!” Harry giggled, trying to wiggle away.

Regulus, huffed rolling Harry over to lay on his back. “Where did you get these pillows James? They are horrible, we need replacements.”

Harry squealed, trashing wildly about, “That’s because I’m not a pillow!” He said between laughter.

“I’m afraid, that would be our son, Jann.” James laughed watching them from the edge of the bed.

Regulus sat up, looking shocked to see the small boy, “Oh, well, yes I think that would explain it. Little boys do not make good pillows.”

Seeing his chance to escape, Harry crawled away, towards James bouncing as he did so. “I wanna give it to him.” Harry said in a mock whisper, holding his hands out for the tray in James hands.

“I thought it was too heavy?” James raised a playful brow.

“Yeah, to carry up that stairs Dad, but I can do it now.” With all the sassy of thier eight year old could muster.

James relented, letting the small boy take the tray, whispering a small, “Be really careful.”

“I know. Papa close your eyes.” Regulus sat up, holding his hands over his eyes. Feeling the bed dip as Harry waddled across the bed, laying the tray on his lap. “Okay! Open them!”

There was a plate with two pieces of slightly burnt toast with very smashed avocados on top, sprinkled with what Regulus would guess was feta and a boiled egg on top. A few wildflowers had been picked and placed next to a bowl with cubed watermelon. James was holding two cups in his hand, with what Regulus could only hope was fresh coffee.

“I made it all myself.” Harry beamed.

Regulus glanced up to James, and the two shared on of the parental-psychic conversations, over if James had really let the eight year old use a knife. The answer was no, but Harry had done, basically the rest of it.

“Merci mon, Coeur.” He pressed a kiss into the boys temple.

“Ton papa bienvenu.” Harry curled up into Regulus side, resting his head on his Papa’s shoulder, sneaking bits of watermelon off Regulus’ plate.

James handed his husband his morning coffee, sitting at the end of the bed. The three chatting about spiderman and pirates. Regulus could not help but think how lucky he was to share this life with the two greatest loves of his life. Nudging James with his foot, the two shared a glance, sharing a secrete smile.

It seemed the two had an entire day planned for them, after breakfast. Downing the last bits of his coffee, Regulus chased the two out of the bedroom to get changed. James was already helping Harry with his shoes, and grabbing the key for the jeep.

Loading up, the family found themselves at the docks. Birds flying overhead in the bight sun, clear blue water breaking against the stones. “Do I get to know the surprise yet?” Regulus asks, swinging his hands with Harry.

“Nope.” The boy answered, trying to run up the dock.

They walked to the end, staring out over the endless sea. Regulus closed his eyes, taking a breath letting the sun warm his face, with a content smile.

“Your chariot awaits.” James dramatic gestured at a small boat slapping against the dock, it’s white paint flaking off around the side. Harry, always the daredevil, jumped right in before either of them could help him into the small fishing boat.

Regulus gave his husband a pointed look, “Are you serious?”

“No, that’s your brother. I’m James your husband.” He grinned fixing his glasses.

Regulus scoffed shaking his head. “It’s still not a funny joke.”

“Then why are you smiling?” James hummed, pressing a quick peck on his check. “Now, come on, we have big plans.” He held out a hand for Regulus to take.

Living on an island had it’s perks, Regulus sat on the dock before scooting into the boat, without need any help. “Careful Papa.” Harry said, holding on the the handles of the paddles.

“I am always careful.” Regulus smiled, sliding into one of the seat.

James smiled untying them before stepping in with ease, bracing himself on the side before taking his seat— the one with the ores . With in minutes, they were already out of the shallows of the island.

Harry insisted on helping his father with the rowing. He also insisted that Regulus not help since it was his birthday. That was perfectly fine with him. Taking the camera from around his neck, Regulus focused on taking pictures of his boys’ trying to capture all thier laughs in a single frame—a single picture. It was impossible.

“Where are we going?” Regulus asked as they drifted further and further from the island.

“Its a secrete.” Harry grinned, tongue poking out from his missing tooth.

“Not much further.” James huffed, digging the oar into the water, muscles moving as he did. Regulus was not to proud to admit that he was checking him out, and quickly snapped a shot as the muscle bugled again.

“Oh.” Regulus clamped a hand over his mouth as the small island came into very. Casting James a watery glance. No, how did he not notice it sooner? It was their island— the one they had gone to thier first day on the island. Regulus has talked about bringing Harry here for years, it had just never been the right time, but there were here now.

Jame hopped over the side, waist deep in his trunks, pulling them the last little distance up the beech. Harry leaned over the front as they pulled the little boat up onto the sand. Regulus scooped him up into his arm, before jumping out the boat, still in awe.

“How?” Regulus mouth fell open, taking in the scene before him. It was not a bare beech, instead there were chairs, and a cooler, even umbrellas to block out some the sun.

James wrapped his arms Regulus waist, pulling him in close for a kiss. “Happy birthday, my love.”

Regulus pressed his forehead, to James looking into the veins of gold in his hazel eyes. “Thank you.” He breathed, before pulling him in for another tender kiss.

There was a wet slap, and James jolted forward with a gasp. Looking over his shoulder mouth gaping. Harry tried to hide his smile, even as his hands dripped his wet sand—the same sand that had just hit James squarely in the back.

“Oh, it’s so on.” James peeled off his shirt, and Harry shrieked playfully, running straight into the water as his dad chase after him. Kicking up huge waves of water. He caught up with the boy, swinging him up into arms, even as Harry kicked and flailed, before dunking them both under the waves.

As Regulus watched James chasing Harry through the crashing waves, he could not imagine a better life. Just the three of them in at the edge of the world. What more could he ask for his birthday?

#papa mia!#mars answers #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #harry potter #raising harry potter

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