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b0r3dtod3ath · 10 months

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Ok so I have had this idea for a while and it’s like Wilbur and reader are married and they decided they wanted a baby.and like how Wilbur is with you during the pregnancy and after you have had the baby.

a/n: pls, i'm in such a dadbur mood bc of you. i love this concept. i even started rewatching all the wilbur an tallulah clips (edit: i named the kid tallulah bc why not)

warnings: afab reader, mentions of trying to get pregnant - nothing smutty, mentions of infertility,

word count: 1.5k

masterlist

You always knew you both wanted to have kids, you spoke about it many times but it was always limited to the phrase "one day". You and Wilbur were happily married for about 6 months before the final decision was made. The comfort of settling down and feeling established in your late twenties added to the feeling that something was missing. You had a stable income, Wilbur was happy doing music. You loved each other, in fact there was so much love that you felt the need to give it to someone.

Getting pregnant wasn't as easy as you thought. Sure, it had its benefits but for some time it was a struggle. Nevertheless, you were there for each other all the time. It started to become a bit stressful for you. What was wrong? It shouldn't be that hard to do. Maybe you weren't necessarily sad, but you were disappointed or sometimes even angry and started losing hope. Wilbur noticed that your attitude has changed. He knew that as your husband and the dad of your future kids he had to take care of you. He held you every time the test came out negative, he would talk to you - a lot of the time praising you for how strong you were. He didn't want any of you to be alone with their emotions. Like he said "it was teamwork". "Maybe we just have to forget about this, try not to overthink it. Let it be. I feel like it's taking a toll on us. If it happens, it happens, if it doesn't, it doesn't" he said while you were laying in his arms on the couch. "And how do you imagine this?" you say not understanding how you could just "stop thinking about this". "I think we are under too much pressure. Constantly checking, doing tests. Let's stop this. Lets stop all this baby making and obsessing over damn lines on a plastic stick. We stopped making love. That's the key. We started treating it like a task".

It wasn't easy but with time you two stopped thinking so much. The topic came back when you started feeling nauseous. It was unusual for you to vomit and you have even fainted once. Wilbur knew something was different this time and suggested taking a test. Who would have thought that two tiny lines would make two people this happy. Wilbur immediately showered you with kisses, hugging you tightly. He was constantly repeating "We're gonna be parents, I'm gonna be the dad, you're gonna be the mum, we are having a babyyyy. MUAH''. Holding you with one hand on your lower belly Wilbur called his mom not wanting to wait anymore to share the news with her.

The only problem was that he was supposed to leave for tour in a week. He insisted on canceling the shows and staying at home but you disagreed. You would be alright, it was gonna be less than two months, everything was gonna be fine. With a bit of arguing he agreed on leaving. "Please tell me if anything happens, update me all the time. You know, I don't want to miss out on anything and I want you two to be safe and healthy." he said hugging you, his chin resting on your head. "I know, I will. Don't stress too much, please. The tour is gonna be over before you notice". You know your husband had a tendency to panic a bit. You appreciated him being literally overprotective but you never wanted him to feel stressed. He had asked his mom to visit you every week just in case. She was so happy for you two, she knew you were going to be great parents but she also knew you had a lot to learn. She was very helpful - not only did she do what her son asked her to do but also she gave you a lot of support in terms of any questions or fears related with raising a child. However, Wilbur called everyday, even a few times a day. He was constantly asking how you were feeling, if you were alright.

Wilbur told his friends about the pregnancy but he decided not to reveal it on the internet yet. When he got home he didn't leave you alone for even a minute. He never missed a doctor's appointment, he would always get the food that you were craving (even if it meant going to the store at 2 am) and he helped you in the most basic tasks like tying your shoes. He was constantly on a search to make this time easier for you. "Honey, you don't know how strong you are for carrying this baby" he said as he laid on the bed next to you. He rested his head on your belly trying to hear something. You hand went to brush his hair. God, you wished the baby had his hair. "What are they telling us, huh? Have you heard any messages?" you said jokingly. He scrunched his face as if he was really focused "Wait, wait. Oh! I think they are trying to tell us something, captain! They say they would like to join us on board very soon!". Wilbur has developed a habit of keeping his head next to your belly. Having a hunch that the baby can hear him, he would often sing lullabies or slow little songs that he came up with. He knew his singing calms you down as well as your child.

Thankfully, your daughter was born healthy and strong. Wilbur was scared that once you go to labor he will panic, but actually he did a great job at keeping it cool and doing his best. Although, It probably was the adrenaline that helped him. Either way, you were both very happy and tired. You were out like a light while Wilbur was seated in a chair next to your hospital bed, newborn in his arms (he wasn't used to it yet so it felt a bit unnatural) as he was gently singing.

The baby was definitely daddy's girl. You could have sworn he has some sort of talent when it comes to kids. Wilbur woke up to the sound of your baby crying. His tired groan filled the room as soon as he realized your side of the bed was empty. The floor let out a creek as he carried his way through the hallway. As he opened the door he saw you standing in the middle of the room, slowly rocking the baby. You turned around when you heard him “I fed her, I changed her diaper. I don’t know what is wrong” even with dimmed light he could see small tears forming in your eyes “Oh honey, I’m sorry.” he kissed you on your cheek. “You little trouble maker” him taking the baby was like lifting weight off your shoulders. You loved being a first time mother but it was tiring and caused a lot of stress. Sometimes you felt that the baby loved Wilbur more. The tiredness made you more clingy than usual as you held your husband that was trying to make your baby fall asleep. After a while of you three holding each other and gently swaying the cries quieted down. After Wilbur put the baby down he looked at you “Aw, baby, you're about to fall asleep on your feet. Now let's get you to bed”.

When the little one got bigger you started going for walks with her. A bit of sunlight and fresh air never hurt anyone. It was also a great way to use some of her energy. As you were to leave the flat you send a quick text to Wilbur letting him know that you are going out. “Here honey, hold my hand” you said to your daughter as you were approaching a crosswalk “Where’s dad?” “Dad’s at work. Don’t worry, he’s gonna be back for dinner”. You could see that she wasn't very pleased but quickly got distracted by colorful wildflowers that were growing near the sidewalk. As she was picking the flowers you heard a ping “Wanna come to the studio? Boys insist. They haven’t seen Tallulah in a while”. Wilbur’s bandmates were like uncles to your child. They have seen her grow up, they like to play with her and sometimes they babysit her for you and your husband to go on a little date. You didn’t want her to distract them from finishing the album they were working on but they missed her so you gave in. “Sweetie, how about you pick some flowers for your uncles and we go visit them”. As soon as she heard you she had started running around trying to find the best flower for each one of them. On your way to the studio you barely kept up with her. She ran up the door and started knocking but it was still too quiet for them to hear so you gave Wilbur a call. Once he opens the door she quickly hugs his leg and continues to chaotically run up the stairs. Not wanting to wait any longer to meet her uncles she leaves her giggly parents behind.

June 29 2023

#writers on tumblr #fan fic writing #wilbur soot imagine #x reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur imagine

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dulcewrites · 2 years

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I love your writing! Could you write where black!reader is tired of Austin!Elvis spoiling her and constantly buying her jewelry, gifts, basically being a sugar daddy and how she loves him for him 🥹.

Can’t Buy Me Love

Paring: austin!elvis x black reader

Requested: yes (thank you!)

Warnings: elvis having very old fashion ideas about relationships

A/N: I swear I feel like you guys can see my brain. I had an sugar daddy!elvis idea on my idea list but took it off once I got this. I might still add it bc it was a bit different. Less I love you for you and more get bread, get that head, and leave with 70s elvis lmao. I feel like the Hollywood sign look was a very #expensive look. It’s giving money, it’s giving I’ll drop a couple of bands on my girl like it’s light work

You learned very quickly into your relationship with Elvis that he is a giver. Yes, you had been pursued before, but it was nothing compared to the stops Elvis pulled out after you two met.

It all started innocently. Your mom owned a women’s clothing boutique where you worked as a designer and seamstress. The business had started to transition into making costumes for tv and movie productions. So, you didn’t think much of it when you found yourself on an MGM set helping out. That was until you met Elvis.

You didn’t consider yourself someone that’s easily charmed. But when one evening he brushes a curl out of your eye and tells you he hopes you two can see each other after shooting ends, you realize you’re a goner.

The gift giving starts on the first date when he gives you a brand new sewing machine. At first you were a bit put off. Is this what he does? Butters women up with gifts, and expects things in return. But then you see the way he treats his dad, friends, and staff; Elvis would give away every penny to those close to him if he could. He’s wants everyone happy, almost to a fault.

It’s been almost a year since that first date, and the gifts haven’t slowed down like you thought it eventually would. He has you now; no need for excessive displays of affection. But here you, staring at the Tiffany bag he set in front of you while you were sketching.

“Baby….” You trail off trying to think of the words say. Dispute what he may say, Elvis is sensitive. You know how he will get if you say you don’t need more jewelry.

“Think of it as an early anniversary present,” he beams at you.

You thought the trip to Lake Tahoe that you two were taking was the present. Slowly, you open the bag and pull out the velvet box. Inside is a sparkling tennis bracelet, and your eyes get a bit wide. This has to be the most expensive piece of jewelry he’s gotten you.

“It’s beautiful,” you watch him take the bracelet out of the box and start to put in on your wrist. “But-“

“But,” he interrupts with furrowed brows. “Did you not like like it?”

You sigh. How do you even go about explaining this to him? That the thing you love the most about him, his big warm heart, is also the thing that can drive you up a wall sometimes.

“Baby, do you know why I wanted to take that Lake Tahoe trip,” you ask softly. “It’s not because I just love skiing so much. I want to be with you… alone.”

Another thing you learned once you started dating Elvis is that if you’re dating him, you’re basically dating his friends. It was made clear to you that to be accepted by him meant being accepted by the boys. You love being around them, but it does get exhausting not having your boyfriend to yourself. Between the movies, the music, the posse of friends, and your job, alone time is something you both have to fight for.

“I appreciate the gifts. I understand they’re a gesture of love, but it’s not necessary,” you take his hand and squeeze it. “I’d take having you for week with no one bothering us over an albeit very beautiful bracelet.”

Elvis gives you soft look, blue eyes swimming with something you can’t put your finger on.

“How do you manage to do that?”

You tilt your head to side curiously.

“Do what,” you ask confused.

“Manage to make me feel like I can be myself,” he leans his forehead against yours, and you grin.

“What can I say, I have that affect on people,” you shrug playfully.

You look down at the new jewelry on your wrist. It is a really nice bracelet. You hop into his lap and wrap your arms around him.

“Why don’t I give you an early anniversary present too,” you lean down and kiss his neck.

Elvis hums in response before surprising you and picking you up bridal style.

“I have a feeling I’m going to like that present.”

#austin!elvis x reader #black!reader #elvis 2022 #my writing #requests #austin elvis imagine #elvis x reader #black!oc #austin butler imagine

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johnslittlespoon · 19 days

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It just makes so much sense that you were writing in 2013, you have the unhinged vibe that the golden fics from that era had.

I'm just here to compliment you really lol, mostly because I am giving a try to write a lil something for the first time and god I can only dream of ever being able to write as good as you. I've been writing poems and music for years now but i find writing actual coherent storys with characters and dialogue so so hard.

I was wondering if you have any tips, or like little rules you follow when you write.

all the love, xxx

🌷

I'M GONNA CRYYYY this was the sweetest thing in the world to wake up to wtf wtf <333 thank you SO much, i really appreciate this wahh my heart :'))) but also you are SILLY. don't compare yourself to others!! if we all did that constantly we'd never get anything written!! there are SO many authors i adore on here that will always have me chasing the "i wish i could write like that" feeling and it's a great motivator but alsooo at the end of the day. you gotta fall in love with your own words and characters and stories <33

and i feel that so much!! we are twinsss, i also started out writing poems and music and then realized i had stories i wanted to tell that wouldn't fit in shorter form, then discovered fanfic in middle school in the early '10s and it was all downhill from there LOL. truly such a golden era tho oh my god. growing up reading the hat fic and borderline illegible wattpad stories was certainly... formative!

yapping ahead vv (i don't have much advice bc i'm still just learning as i go but hopefully some stuff i picked up on can be a bit helpful!)

i have zero method to the madness when writing so it's a relief to know it doesn't come off that way LOL but i do have a few little things that i follow and i always look for them when beta–ing as well! they're pretty small technical things and they're generally up to personal preference, but some of them come from authors i admire and i think they can really take anyone's writing up a notch <3

i don't feel qualified to give advice because i'm just raw–dogging everything lmao i've never taken classes or anything, so take all this yapping with a grain of salt bc it's just what's worked for me!

– i try to use descriptors like "the man" or "the blond" or "his friend" etc sparingly. i wish i could remember the source, but i read a great piece about why it's better to just go with the character's name 99% of the time, and then i went through so many of my works to edit them and i felt so much more confident in my writing afterwards– it made a big difference in readability (imo).

ofc there are exceptions, like if the name of a character is unknown, or if there are too many names being thrown around in one sentence and a "the man" or "the soldier" etc just sits nicer. i definitely still use them occasionally! but it does sometimes put some distance between the reader and the story when those descriptors are used too often instead of names, so it's a good thing to keep an eye out for when it comes to flow. sometimes less or more or whateva ??

– sorta on the topic of less is more, i love challenging myself to show vs tell when i can! whether it's by keeping dialogue short and letting actions speak instead (can add to intimacy/realism– we communicate so much through body language yk), through metaphors (literally how my whole '#john egan is dog coded' fic was born LOL), or describing feelings rather than spelling them out (his heart ached vs he was sad, his pulse raced vs he was scared, you get the gist). you said you've been writing poems so i feel like stuff like that would already probably come easily to you tho! <3

– this guide on ao3 is great for smut writers! whether someone's a beginner or just looking for ways to elevate the filth, i found it really helpful, it's a fun read as well lol. it calls out stereotypes/cliches and teaches you how to reword them, gives lists of slang and reactionary words, do's and don't's, etc. i don't follow everything in it but that's the beauty of writing; we all have things that work for us and things that don't and that's so okay. :-)

– in the same way that artists use references to practice and find their style, you can do that with writing too! i know a lot of writers have a doc or note where they jot down stylistic things they find while reading that they'd like to emanate, or words they want to use, specific phrases, descriptors, etc. if i'm reading a fic and find an auditory descriptor i like, i might take note of it, stuff like that. sorta like a text document version of a pinterest board!

– thesaurus.com is my best friend truly. often going with the 'simplest' version of a word makes for smoothest reading so someone isn't taken out of the story being like wtf does that word mean lol but sometimes things can feel repetitive, or like there just needs to be a little bit more spice; i probs go back and forth btwn my doc and thesaurus a dozen times an hour tbh.

that's all i can think of rn and ik those are pretty basic so i'm sorry about that!! i really do just kinda write what evokes emotions in myself, and then i hit post and hope it translates over to whoever is reading too :') drawing from your own experiences if you can/really sitting with what the characters would be feeling in whatever scenario you're writing is probably the most powerful way to present what you see in your mind.

i have a hard time writing about emotions/things i haven't personally experienced, so i usually stray away from it out of fear of not getting across what i want to, but some people are great at winging it and putting themselves in unfamiliar shoes so!! it's again just personal preference really.

and alsooo be kind to yourself! i'm an anxious wreck every time i post any of my writing, i am very much not confident when posting new fics and i agonize over my docs so much and trash a lot of works, but i know at the end of the day i can't grow or learn if i don't get the words down, and i can't get feedback or gain confidence if i don't post. becoming your own hype man and giving yourself the opportunity to improve is essential <33

sooo much love and best of luck!!! lmk if you end up writing smth, i'd love to read it (◠‿◠✿)

#also tentatively offering beta services to mota/sb moots bc i love helping w fics <33 hmu #if i am not super busy i am SAT #this got so long WHOOPS so sorry anon #johnslittlespoon asks #johnslittlespoon yaps

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beautifulpersonpeach · 1 year

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BPP, I've been following you for some years now. On your old blog before the Ricin incident happened and now on your new blog here. I'm lurker who appreciates the context and history you provide about fandom behavior and how BTS fits within kpop. Though I'm a Stay and multi, your arguments about kpop fans reactions to BTS and Armys counter reactions to kpop fans and the industry always looked reasonable /consistent to me.

But to make sure I don't stay in an echo chamber, I follow other bloggers with opposing views. There are some bloggers who are very critical of Army, BTS, Hybe, and especially RM/Namjoon, constantly complaining about the music and the fandom, so it is obvious their bias plays a role in their analysis and discourse. Which is another thing I remember you saying about what makes up 'discourse' in kpop. Some of those bloggers like Jimin so I was wondering if they would give his song more charitable reviews or rely on the same tropes they've been saying about BTS members and Army for years. Since Jimin's SMFP2, they have not just given it a charitable view, they've thrown out all the tropes they used for BTS and Army. And while I expected that reaction since their bias is so evident, I was still surprised. Their analysis of his work compared to other BTS members is like night and day. I wouldn't mind if they like Jimin only and just spent more time talking about him bc of that, but those bloggers set themselves up as analysts of kpop and BTS in general. It felt frustrating for me to see that though that is a behavior you predicted. I'm just shocked at how little high quality comprehensive critics there are in kpop, and it makes me appreciate your content more though I don't always agree with you.

In your Ricin incident post you said you'll be leaving Tumblr soon. I sent you an ask last December asking you to stay but you never posted it. I wonder if you're still considering leaving, or if you have changed your mind. Another request: can you pls add your BTS member profiling posts to your masterlist? You wrote one about why Hobi has less bias in the Army fandom months ago. I found it so interesting but I've not been able to find it since.

***

Hi Anon,

Can you send another ask or DM to remind me exactly which Hobi post you're talking about so I can link it for you? I try to keep my Masterlist as clutter-free as possible, sticking only to the long-form 'discoursey' posts so they don't get lost in the noise. And because many of those posts are from old BPP, posts that pissed off people enough to want to physically harm me, so they get the place of honour, front and center on new BPP. I'll consider adding more member-focused posts to the Masterlist though.

What I actually said in the 'Ricin post', is

"...I plan to keep this blog as a sort of archive... I have less time to spend on Tumblr, and so it might take me longer to respond to your asks and I generally won’t be as active on here. Over time, this blog will become dormant."

That was in July 2022. And I think in the time since then, my followers have experienced that my posting pattern is irregular already, with long stretches of time in between. This blog will eventually fall into more irregular use, i.e. become dormant, because that's just how the cookie crumbles folks. BPP is a blog that happened by accident and since getting a double promotion at work recently, as much as I enjoy interacting with many people here and being active constantly, it's just not a viable option for me. I'll be here until I'm not. That's really all I can say.

In the meantime, I'd like to direct you to some bloggers who have been doing this for a lot longer, and/or are still active, and/or who have fun or interesting things to share from time to time [**]:

@jung-koook, @stormblessed95, @onthecuterside, @kimsaena88, @wingzie

...and if you've been lurking on my blog for years as you say, you've probably noticed the regulars in the replies who usually leave really interesting tidbits, so there's another list for you there too.

Aside, I'm not saying this to be modest, but I'm not certain I appreciate the tone in your ask about my blog relative to other bloggers. We can all tell when someone does not critically examine their bias of a group or fandom in discourse, but that's also the norm in k-pop. Why penalize them for acting exactly like most other people in this space since there's clearly a desire among k-pop fans for that sort of space? I write what I write to educate on all the sorts of players in this system and why the system runs the way it does. If you're going to criticize certain bloggers for acting as they've always done in this system but not the system itself, then what's the point? All you're doing is nullifying that energy and we're all back at square one, and there is no net positive. You know what I mean? If you used the same tone in the ask you sent last December, that's probably a reason I didn't post it. Just FYI.

Set Me Free Pt 2 is a legitimate masterpiece. It's good enough to turn anyone into a fan, so some bloggers reacting favourably to it feels like a given to me, whether or not they bias him. Jimin on even the best days, is the most polarizing figure in BTS, and probably in all of k-pop. The direction he went for in Set Me Free Pt 2 is very on brand for him, because it's unexpected and because of what led up to it. In all the ~10 years I've been following Jimin, SMF Pt 2 is what solidified my idea of who Jimin is in my head. He has produced one of the most forward-thinking music in the industry (sonically) this year and it's only March. You said you're a Stay and multi so I'm curious, have you streamed Set Me Free Pt 2 today?

[**] Edit: For any of my new followers and just in case Anon you’re not aware, my blog is firmly Jikook-affirming. What I mean is I like Jimin, I like Jungkook, I love watching them interact and I think they have a beautiful relationship. Many of the blogs I follow and that I tagged above also speak favourably about Jikook, as individual members and as a pairing in BTS. I recognize that some people prefer jikook-biased bloggers, others don’t care for it, and others are indifferent, so here’s a clarifying note for anyone to tailor their followings accordingly.

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batemanofficial · 6 months

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standard time-fueled sappiness under the cut womp womp

i hate transitory periods because they make me so SAD!!!! this one especially that i'm in rn is causing me to have to fight back tears if i think about it for too long!! i spent much of my undergraduate years in the throes of mental illness and constantly ebbing back and forth between passive and active suicidality whilst trying and failing to deal with my psychosis symptoms so i don't feel like i really got to appreciate college until i got medicated, which was like. this past summer.

but now that i'm at a place where i can manage my symptoms i'm seeing just how much of the quote-unquote "college experience" i missed out on and how fun it really is. i've made more friends in college over the past year than i did in the whole three years prior, and being able to navigate friendships without feeling like i have to wrench myself out of them before they realize i'm wacko is simultaneously really freeing and infuriating because i missed out on soooooo much of that!! and all because i was like one bad hour away from shuffling off this mortal coil for like 8 years straight !! i spent every waking moment from the age of fourteen until june of 2023 loathing myself with every fiber of my being and now that i don't want to die anymore i'm just kind of lamenting the friendships and the happiness i didn't feel like i deserved in that time and it SUCKS

and that said i love the friends i've made since the start of my recovery more than they could ever know, and on the off chance that rae is reading this i need you to know you saved my life more times than than either of us can count. and just these past few months with jessie + company has shown me that college doesn't have to be jaime's misery jamboree all the time and i am so so so so grateful. i mean it.

but now that it's all coming to an end i'm just!! sad!! i never thought i'd miss college bc i spent like 80% of it wallowing and languishing and torturing myself, but im going to miss this city and the connections i've made with it so so so so much. i love chicago with all my heart i really do. it can be a weird and frustrating place to live in, but it will always be a part of me and i think i'll always call it home to some degree. i feel like i grew up here - i went from a sheltered kid with no ability to navigate by herself to a (mostly) functional adult here, and i have the city to thank. it feels like moving away from a parent in a way; i love my own parents but i feel like the city has shown me so much more than they ever could, as stupid and knockoff-sondheim-musical as that sounds.

i know if i don't go through with my plans to move abroad i'll regret it, but it doesn't make saying goodbye to this part of my life any less painful. being here and growing up over the past few months has taught me that i am a part of something really special, and for the first time in a really, really long time i know i don't want to die and remove myself from it all. i genuinely didn't think i'd have hope for the future ever again, but i never realized how much of just this depth of feeling i was missing out on. anyway. i love my friends and i love my city and i don't want to say goodbye to either of them!!!

#speak friend and enter #suicide mention #just in case #IM NOT KILLING MYSELF I PROMMY I'M JUST TALKING ABOUT MY MENTAL ILLINOIS

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joyfuldeepend · 9 months

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Invited In

Recently I had a friend spend some extended time with me and the girls I support. It was a big deal to me. We have a few people who choose to engage or spend time with us. Also I am protective of who they experience. Honestly I never know what I’m going to get each day and while it’s my normal now, I perceive that could be a lot for those not in it regularly. When I recount things that happen sometimes I get unsolicited advice on how people would handle their behavior if it was them. Often people get a little terrified for me and other people are scared for me, which makes sense if it’s not the norm for them.

One thing that I’ve made a personal commitment about, is not to apologize for them. They’re working their stuff out and sometimes I’m confident when we’re in public people might think they have “special needs” or are shocked or think they should be more docile. That being said, choosing to be a safe place for them, for me, means in all settings. That doesn’t mean accepting all behaviors, however it does mean that every situation and behavior doesn’t get addressed right away. If that was the case I’d live in just corrective mode…and that’s not helpful for any one, especially me. There have been many times in stores that one or both are giving into their intrusive thoughts and I pick which battle I will fight based on factors impacted at the moment.

The girls have been in survival mode and lived with conditional love, undependable adults, manipulative families, toxic parenting and the list goes on. It takes awhile to work through those things to get back to zero and start there.

My goal is to get them to be able to graduate high school and hold down a job. Along the way if they learn some character and consideration of others that’s my bonus points. It has taken me a year…A YEAR to get R to be respectful to me (70% of the time), minimal lying, not flipping me off constantly, saying thank you, consider others (well at least me for now), want to spend time with me and say I love you and not be manipulative. She texted me recently and asked if I’d go with her to the doctors to get a shot bc she’s scared. This is HUGE!! Her caseworker said she was proud of her and saw her maturity this week, I could have cried right there. Besides me no one, that I know of, has told her that in years.

K has started recovering from her spirals in less than 2 hours versus the days to week it would take before. She calls me mid spiral and freaking and let’s me deescalate, she wouldn’t do that 3 months ago. I’m praising God for that movement. (UPDATE: things went downhill after I wrote this. After two weeks of up and down she was removed from my home after another police encounter and physical damage occurrence. It was a rough choice, however I’m confident the best one give the circumstances).

I recognize, just like with any kids, people see the current phase, and I…I see the journey and the growth. When interacting with the girls it could be chaotic and they could also be sweet, considerate and naive/youthful. They will always want to listen to music, eat junk food and watch movies and take long drives. As much as it “costs” I still remember that I prayed for this and I’m grateful for the ways people engage or find ways to support me/us as their boundaries allow. So grateful for all of those ways and the continual prayers as I know I do not journey alone, even when it feels like it!!

I say all of these things to say thank you. Thank you to the people who continue to find ways to support or engage with my journey. As a quality time person all of that means the world to me. It looks different for each person and I’m learning to grown in my appreciation of the varying expressions. Thanks friends for diving into the joyful deepend. This is our reminder to keep inviting people in!

#mylife #tumblr #blog #joyfuldeepend #blogpost #myloves #dowhatisrightnotwhatiseasy #createwhatyoucrave #vulnerability #fostercareflow #invitedin

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kehlanies · 2 years

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the way that rnb continually gets downplayed as some sort of lesser, immature genre of music will be my villain origin story

#shup ut nicki #i have a lot of feelings about this actually #its two fold because on the one hand its this idea that rnb - yes even modern rnb - is devoid of meaning #and lacking lyrically and is just tiktok music and its like yeah a lot of modern rnb music is fun!#and dancey or sexy which is not a bad thing and also doesn't mean that the lyrics aren't clever #but at the same time a lot of rnb music gets taken out of context and the lyrical depth is ignored #so that people can use it as their sm sound of the day. bc people still don't respect the genre or the artists making the music #this happened sooo much with iwguiw like kehlani was pouring their heart out and you bitches were just stripping to can i #and on the other hand you have this weird dichotomy where everyone's favorite Caucasian singer steals their technique from rnb singers #and yet when it comes to actually appreciating the voices of singers rnb musicians a literally ignored or treated as less than #musical theater bitches are so bad about this. if I see someone else say that a person's voice is 'too rnb' for them to be in a musical #i'm gonna lose my mind. bc what the fuck is that supposed to mean??? the idea that 1) singing rnb doesn't take just as much talent and work #as singing on Broadway or that 2) rnb singers aren't just as versatile and wouldn't be able to adapt to a different style of singing #is so fucking wild and insane to me like I genuinely will never understand that #and its all so crazy because literally everyone constantly biting from rnb and soul so its like pick one.

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Our song - Harry Styles

this one was inspired by the jingleball performance bc it was pure perfection and UGHH im obsessed.

dedicated to my dear friend @dontworrysunflower

disclaimer: the song Homesick by Dua Lipa is featured in this fic as an original work of Harry and the reader, but it’s obviously an existing song, I just thought that it would be the song they write

pairing: Harry x vocalist!reader

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

You’ve felt the adrenaline rush take over your body many times in your life and they were all different in some kind of way. The one you felt when you were about to write an important test in school, the one that bubbled through your veins when you got your first kiss. The one that rolled through your limbs and chest when you first performed in front of people that weren’t your parents and the one you felt when you got the news that you were chosen to tour with none other than Harry Styles as his vocalist, singing on his stage every other night in a different city and different country.

But none of those were anything like the feeling that takes over every time you stand on that stage, your microphone that’s labelled with your name right in front of you as thousands of people are screaming in the jam-packed arena. Though it’s not you they come to see and listen to, but you are part of the magic and it’s quite enough for you.

You could never be the one standing at the front with all the lights shining down on your frame, having every gaze in the place glued to you, listening to your voice. That brings the kind of anxiety you’re quite sure you wouldn’t be able to handle. You are perfectly fine standing in the back, being the support system while staying on the down-low as someone else shines at the front, in your case, it’s Harry.

You applied for the job with a reason, already having a huge appreciation for him as an artist, adoring his work so far, especially Fine Line. Upon hearing about the opportunity to be part of his tour, you didn’t hesitate to send your application in and following three auditions, you got the phone call that they wanted you on board.

He swept you right off your feet the first time you met him, but you didn’t expect less from him. Everything you heard about him being the most wonderful person to every walk the planet were proven to be nothing but the truth. You hit it off so easily and become close through the process of rehearsals. His odd little jokes, that funny laugh of his and the way he always peeks over his shoulder to meet his eyes with yours made you fall for him faster than you’d have ever thought you could.

Just as fast as your feeling for Harry developed, tour caught up on you and before you could blink twice, you were living on the road, always dressing from your suitcase, waking up in a different city every other morning.

The foreign studio feels a little odd, but still somehow familiar as you walk in with your water and notebook under your arm. Random studio sessions with Harry became a regular not long after tour kicked off. Harry’s creative juices were overflowing and he was aching to record his creations, constantly renting random studios near the hotel you lot were staying currently and one night, when some of you all were hanging out in his suit, he asked if you’d be down helping him record vocals for a song he’s been working on.

“I want to hear it with your voice instead of mine,” he told you leaning against the wall, a glass of whatever Mitch mixed him in his hands.

“Getting bored of your own voice?” you teased him, bringing his dimples out with the smile that plastered across his lips.

“Could say that. Are you up for it?”

There was no way you would have said no. So the next morning you found yourself in a studio somewhere in Sacramento, singing the vocals to a song no one else has heard other than you and Harry.

The tour has now reached Denver, you can’t wait to be on the stage tonight, but before that, you are having another quick session with Harry in the studio.

When you walk in, his head perks up from his leather notebook he always keeps on himself, filled with his scribbled lyrics. A smile stretches across his lips when his green eyes fall on your frame.

“Hey! Hope it’s not too early for you,” he softly says standing up from the chair as you put your stuff down to the small table in the corner.

“No, managed to get a good night sleep still,” you smile at him, taking a quick look around, though this recording room is just like the others you’ve been in.

“I think I figured out that part we struggled with last time. Changed up the ending a bit, would you mind giving it another go?”

You nod looking down at his notes, seeing the changes he has made in the vocals.

“Changed anything else?” you ask as you watch him get ready for the recording.

“Yeah, rewrote a few lines, think they are fitting better now.”

“Have you recorded them yet?”

“Will do now,” he tells you shaking his head.

Soon enough you find yourself standing behind the mic, headset covering your ears as you are waiting for Harry to start recording and the music to play in your ears. Once he shows up his thumb you do the same and a moment later the song you’ve heard last time you two were working starts flowing from the headset and you stare down at the notes in front of you, waiting for the moment when you have to start singing.

It takes you a few runs to nail it down, but when you finally do, you can see the satisfied grin on Harry’s face and you think to yourself that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to make him like this anytime.

“That was fantastic,” he beams once you join him at the screens where you see your voice appear as a pattern over a straight line. Harry does his usual magic before leaving it be. “Mind assisting recording my part?” he asks turning to you with an excited smile.

Nodding you let him tell you what to do and once he is all set behind the mic, you start the recording and the song. You listen to him in awe. There hasn’t been a moment when you didn’t feel the shiver running down your spine when he started singing. You are convinced a choir of angels is hidden in his throat, because it’s hard to believe he is just as human as everyone else.

He sings the whole song three times before he joins you again, listening back to what you have so far. The song is coming along pretty well and you can tell by the time he finishes it, it’s gonna be perfect. Everything he does is just pure perfection, whether he likes to admit it or not.

“You know how it would be absolutely perfect?” he asks you on your way back to the hotel. The two of you grabbed a coffee as well, so now you’re sipping on the hot drink, enjoying the somewhat sunny weather.

“Hm?”

“I think it would be best if a female voice sang the whole thing and the male was just the vocal.”

“Who do you think would fit best for it then?” you ask, immediately thinking of singers that could be perfect for the song. It wouldn’t be the first time Harry would sell a song to someone else, so you’re not surprised he is thinking about this kind of change.

“Y/N, I found the voice already,” he chuckles and you give him a puzzled look. “You. You are singing the song, I don’t need anyone else.”

“I’m not a solo singer,” you protest.

“There’s no such thing as solo or not solo. You’re a singer and a bloody good one. I want you to sing it.”

“But it would go to waste, because I would never actually perform it.”

“How are you so sure about that?” he smirks slyly at you, immediately making you nervous.

“Harry, I don’t sing solo,” you shake your head stubbornly, but he rolls his eyes at you.

“You could just try it. Let’s just record the song next time with you in the lead and then we can talk about the rest.”

“I’m fine recording, but I will never perform it,” you tell him, but his look makes you think he has other plans.

When tour reaches Dallas, the song gets a version with you singing solo and Harry doing the vocals in it. And though you had doubts about the switch, listening back to it you can tell how much it helped. It really is better with a female voice, though you are still convinced it shouldn’t be you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sell it to someone? I’m fine with that,” you ask him before the show in Dallas. You’re sitting on the table in his dressing room while he is painting his nails, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“I told you, I like it with your voice. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because I’m not a—“

“Fuck’s sake if you dare to tell me one more time that you’re not a solo singer, I’m firing you, Y/N!” he snaps, giving you a hard look, but you just laugh at his temper.

“It’s the truth.”

“Have you ever tried to go solo?”

“Not for years,” you admit and watch him screw the nail polish closed, pushing it aside, his hands lying flat on the table as he is carefully waiting for them to dry.

“So then how do you know you are no good at it?”

“Because I hated it back then, so I most likely would hate it now as well,” you state matter-of-factly, but Harry doesn’t seem amused by your answer.

“So you think you haven’t changed a bit in years? I hope you know that’s absolute bollocks.”

“Why are you so keen on making me sing solo?” you sigh, giving him a tired look. It feels like the two of you have been running the same circles since forever. It’s not his first attempt to get you sing more than just the vocals, he once wanted to do a cover and needed a partner because it was a duet and begged you for weeks to sing with him, but you didn’t give in. You just couldn’t.

“Because I think that you are a talented singer and I want you to feel the adrenaline rush performing gives you.”

“I do get that rush every time I sing behind you. That’s enough for me.”

Harry shakes his head pressing his lips tight together.

“That’s not the same as being in the lead. It’s a whole different world.”

“Yeah, one that makes me shit my pants,” you chuckle and he can’t push a smile back.

“Maybe we should just work on it. Your anxiety. I think we could actually make you feel better if we tried.”

“I still don’t know where this obsession with me being solo comes for you.”

Harry stands up, takes one last look at his nails before he steps closer smiling down at you softly and you bite into your bottom lip, realizing how close he is standing to you. His fingers tap in your cheek gently, running them down to your chin as he tilts your head up a bit.

“Just accept it, Love,” he smiles softly before stepping away and carrying on with his routine.

That evening, you stand at the back with the other two vocalists, eyes glued to Harry’s figure at the front of the stage, you watch him pour his soul out to the audience, interact with them and reach that state of mind you have never been able to get into. You know what he told you about performing is true, yet you are still terrified to do it yourself. It’s too nerve wrecking to have everyone look at and listen to you, so many chances to mess it up and make a fool out of yourself.

But when Harry’s eyes meet yours and he shoots you a warm smile, something shifts in you. The urge to have this connection with not just the audience and the song, but with him takes over your whole body and you make up your mind to at least give it a try.

Harry is ecstatic when you tell him later that night that you changed your mind. You see that sparkle in his eyes and it was already worth for you, just seeing him react like that.

“Though I have a few suggestions to change the lyrics.”

“You do?” he asks, seemingly surprised, but mostly amused that you had the balls to come out with it.

“Yeah. Just some tiny details.”

“Why haven’t you told me about these before?”

“Because it was your song. But if you want me to sing it, it has to be mine as well.” Harry stares back at you with a smile that’s filled with pride and joy, making your heart flutter in your aching chest as you think about performing solo.

“Our song,” he softly says nodding his head.

Arriving to Houston the two of you are quick to book a studio and work on the song. Harry lets you make any changes you desire on the lyrics, even says you did justice to it and that you should have spoken up earlier about your ideas. And then you record it.

It’s not that you have to sing the whole song and not just the vocals this time. You are completely fine with Harry hearing you sing, it’s the thought of performing it in front of anyone that’s not him, that’s what makes you turn into a wreck.

You record Harry’s vocals and once it’s all put together, you are blown by the outcome. You wouldn’t have thought Harry’s voice as the vocal would compliment you in the lead, but it’s just absolutely perfect and even you can’t find anything wrong with it.

“Love, this is what Heaven sounds like, I’m telling you,” he smirks at you from the chair beside you, playing the song for the tenth time, not able to get enough of the final product.

“You are so cheesy,” you shake your head, but feel the blush heating up your cheeks. His eyes linger on you a little longer before he turns back to the screen.

When the song is over he finally stops is so silence comes over the studio. Harry turns back to face you, his green eyes basically burning a hole into your head.

“So, when are we going to perform it?”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” you sigh looking down at your hands fumbling with your shirt.

“And I do think it is. So I’m not stopping until you at least try it.”

Harry Styles gets what he wants. Always. And this time, no matter how hard you try to resist him, you just can’t deny this from him. Though it takes him time to talk you up, in Washington he finally gets you to give it a try in an empty stadium.

Most of the crew is out, since the building has been finished about half an hour before, so everything is perfectly set for tonight’s show when you walk out to the stage, following Harry in his heels. He asked the piano to be brought to the front along with a mic on it and another one on a stand next to it. The two of you quietly put on your earpieces, doing everything as if it was a usual occasion before a concert, only that this time the roles will be entirely switched.

“It’s fine, alright? No one is around,” he tells you when he sees how nervous you are to sing the song for the first time outside a studio.

“There are some backstage,” you mumble under your breath, not expecting him to do anything about it.

But he does. You watch him walk backstage, completely dumbfounded about what he is doing. He disappears from your sight and a few moments later you hear him shouting at the back.

“No one comes to the stage until I say so! Yea? Thanks!” he orders and then walks back as if he didn’t just boss around the whole crew.

“They will think you’re some kind of crazy celebrity,” you chuckle when he returns, a small smirk playing on his pink lips.

“Don’t care, Darling. Now sing you heart out for me.”

Harry sits on the piano bench, his fingers getting settled on the keys before he looks up to meet your anxious eyes.

“It’s alright. Just you and me, yea?”

Nodding you gulp hard and jump a little when he starts playing the melody the two of you have been working on for so long. You hear all the notes and you know you have to start singing, but you miss the opening. Harry stops and looks at you, as you move your eyes down to the ground, ashamed you messed up immediately.

“S-Sorry, I just—“

“How can I help?” he asks right away, not even caring about the fact that you messed up, focused on figuring out a way that would help you.

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” you sigh, feeling your nerves getting worse with each passing moment.

“Come sit next to me,” he then tells you motioning for you to join him on the bench.

“What?”

“Take your mic and sit next to me,” he repeats, scooting over to make you space. Hesitantly, you pull the mic out of the stand and walking over you sit next to him. “Now you are not in the center. Just listen to the music, watch my hands on the keys, okay?”

You nod, running your tongue over your dry lips as you hold the mic to your mouth before Harry starts playing again.

After the first few notes you close your eyes and when it’s time for you to start singing, Harry leans a little against you, giving you a kind of push to just do it. And it works.

It feels a little as if it’s not even you who starts singing, but it is. Your voice fills the empty arena along with the piano’s melody and keeping your eyes closed a little longer you let your mind settle. When the first verse ends you open them and watch his hands work on the keys, right as he starts singing the vocals, leaning a little forward so his voice reaches his mic.

It’s different. It’s electric and freeing, hear your voice through the massive speakers, to be in the lead and have Harry be just the support in the song. But it feels so right, better than anything you’ve ever felt.

Line after line, you hit all the notes and by the end of the song you are able to strip all your fears down and give yourself over to the music completely. As you sing the last few notes you feel Harry’s eyes on you and turning to face him, you are met with his warm, pride-filled smile and bright eyes, glued to you while his fingers press down the last notes.

The music dies down, the voice of the piano vibrates in the air a little longer until it completely disappears and the silence returns into the stadium.

“Love,” Harry quietly calls out for you and you turn completely towards him. “That was absolutely perfect.”

“You think so?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper, your eyes never leaving his gaze.

“I know so,” he huffs, smile widening. He brings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as you let out a breath you’ve been holding in for way too long.

He doesn’t try to make you perform that evening, knowing well it was enough for one day, but he does make you sing it with him in each city in the upcoming weeks. Before every concert, he empties out the area around the stage and the two of you sit down at the piano, singing your song until you feel comfortable enough to stand next to the instrument instead of sitting next to him.

The tour reaches New York and Madison Square Garden is getting ready to host Harry Styles for two evenings. The place is massive and you find yourself sitting at the edge of the stage when Harry emerges from backstage.

“Looks wild, right?” he asks sitting next to you, his thigh brushing against yours as he gets seated.

“Yeah. Pretty amazing.”

“This place has the most magical vibe.” “Yeah?” Turning to him you watch him take the arena in, his eyes glistening at the sight in front of him. You know it’s not his first time performing here, but it’s nice to see the excitement in his eyes regardless.

That feeling returns to your chest, the one you felt when Harry told you he wanted you to sing the song. The urge to be part of this amazing something that’s so much bigger than you.

“H?”

“Yea?” he turns to you smiling.

“Can I… Do you think we could sing our song tonight?”

You watch the pure surprise and excitement wash over his face, his smile stretching across his face as he stares back at you in awe.

“You want to sing it?”

Shyly, you nod your head and in a heartbeat his arms lock around you, pulling you into the tightest hug. The two of you almost fall off the stage, laughing together at his dramatic reaction.

“Of course we can sing it, Love. Would be an honor!”

Harry is quick to let the band know about the addition for tonight’s set and though everyone seems surprised, they are all supportive about your solo. As the time goes and the concert gets closer, you can feel the nerves building up and soon enough, you start to doubt your choice to sing the song tonight.

Right before it’s time to go on stage Harry takes your hand and pulls you aside, taking your face in his hands gently, making you look into his eyes.

“I know you are doubting yourself, but just know that I’m very proud of you, even if you decide to not sing the last minute.”

“I could do that?” you whisper, your hands finding his sides and you let them rest on him, a way to ground yourself in the windwhirl of your thoughts.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to make you do something you don’t really want. Though I know you will be amazing if you choose to sing.”

Nodding you let a weak smile appear on your lips and you notice as his eyes flicker down to them before he moves his gaze up to your eyes. He then pulls you into a proper hug before walking back to the rest of the band and vocalists.

Everything goes as usual and once again, you can’t take your eyes off Harry on the stage. Just watching him perform fills you up with life, enough to keep you from running away. About halfway into the set, as the crowd is still cheering after the previous song, Harry jogs over to you.

“You ready?” he asks over the noise and before you could think about it, you nod your head.

Two guys from the crew pushes the piano further to the front and they help to set everything up as you awkwardly stand at the side. Once your mic is in the stand you walk over there, heart hammering in your chest, hands shaking like crazy.

“I have a special song for you tonight,” Harry announces into the microphone as he makes his way over to the piano. “Please welcome the lovely Y/N here, who is gonna enchant you with a song we’ve been working on lately.”

The crowd screams and you allow yourself to look around with a weak smile. So many people, you think to yourself, everyone watching you.

“It’s called Homesick, and it means so much to us, so we hope you’ll like it Justas much as we do,” Harry adds before settling on the bench and his eyes find yours. “I’m proud of you,” you see him say, only able to read his lips since the crowd is screaming so loud. “Ready?” he asks and you nod, taking a shaky breath.

He sends you a warm comforting smile before glancing down at the keys and then he starts playing.

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Just like the first time, you close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the melody and nothing else. The lump in your throat is quite uncomfortable, but you open your eyes and see that Harry is looking straight at you, nodding in encouragement, as his fingers push down the keys to the notes right before you have to start.

“Here, where the sky’s falling, I’m covered in blue, I’m running and I’m crawling, fighting for you…”

Harry smiles wide when your voice flows through the speakers, filling the whole place, making everyone go quiet in a heartbeat as the song carries on. You feel your chest slowly deflating, the nerves cooling down with each sung note.

“You give me a reason, something to believe in, I know, I know, I know. You give me a meaning, something I can breathe in, I know, I know, I know…”

The chorus comes out perfect, your voice melting together with the piano and you finally feel your muscles relax as you slowly let go of every toxic thought that’s been tainting your mind. Harry leans closer to his microphone and his voice gently joins yours in the next verse.

“There’s a crack in my window, a bird in my room, angels all over that watch over you…”

Chills run down your spine hearing his voice, your eyes never leaving his gaze that’s fixated on your standing figure. You get lost in him and the song, something that came from the both of you, a piece of you and him. Standing there, singing this piece makes you feel closer to him than ever and you desperately want this feeling to last forever, hoping the song never ends though you know it’s gonna happen.

“When I’m walking on water all my dreams have come true. Still nothing means nothing without you…”

Homesick is exactly the feeling that bubbles inside you when you think of Harry. Because there’s this man you love so much, who is a home away from home to you, yet you still feel like you can’t be home entirely. Not in the way you’d want to. But standing on the stage in the spotlight, singing together with him as thousands of people are watching the two of you, yet you still manage to forget about them, for a moment, you feel like you finally arrived home. You are there, with him.

“Tell my heart to lie, but I know deep inside it’s true. That I wish I was there with you. That I wish I was there with you, oh I wish I was there with you.”

He plays the end of the song without tearing his eyes away from you, and there’s just a heartbeat of silence before the crowd starts screaming deafeningly, but that short moment… is yours and his.

Tugging your hair behind your ears with your shaky hands, your eardrums on the verge of breaking as you let out a laugh that was kind of a sob as well, relief washing over your body. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and rushing over he envelopes you in a tight hug.

“I’m so so so proud of you, Love. You were everything!” he mumbles, arms holding you so tight you almost lose your breath, but you want him this close, or even closer. You need to feel him, because it doesn’t feel real. His hold brings you a sense of existence only he can give you.

“Thank you, Harry,” you breathe out when he pulls back to look into your eyes, the screaming hasn’t died down even a tad little.

“No, thank you, Darling. You shined like the star that you are,” he grins, playing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before his arms fall off you.

You’d die to stay in this moment a little longer, but the show must go on. The crew pushes the piano back and soon enough, the next song starts. You stay in your spot for the rest, but you keep catching Harry smiling in your way, always making you blush.

The end of a concert is always a little hectic, everyone is all over the place. Still coming off the high you just experienced, you head to the dressing room you share with the other vocalists. They are going on and on about how amazing Homesick was, and you somehow still can’t believe tonight happened. Packing your stuff you barely notice that the door flies open, but you see Harry appear from the corner of your eye.

“Ladies, would you please give me a moment with Y/N?” he asks and the girls are quick to leave the two of you alone. You stand there, kind of dumbfounded, not sure why he is acting so dramatic. Once the door closes and it’s just you and him, he stares at you, chest heaving, his hair wet from his sweat, but he still looks breathtaking.

“Harry—“

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he cuts you off, your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him, completely frozen. Opposite to what he just said, he remains standing in the same spot and you’re not sure what’s happening. “Can I? Please say yes, I can’t hold myself back for any longer,” he then adds.

“Yes,” you breathe out without even thinking about it. In a heartbeat, Harry crosses the room, chest smashing against yours as he wraps his arms around you, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that almost makes you moan into his mouth.

It’s all a hot mess, teeth clashing, hands all over each other before his palms run down to the back of your thighs, urging you to jump. When you do, you wrap your legs around his waist and let him walk over to the table nearby, so he can place you on top, standing between your thighs as he keeps kissing you hungrily, his tongue melting together with yours in this sweet chaos. It keeps going on and on, neither of you wanting to let go of the other, but you are eventually forced to stop, coming short of air. Panting wildly, lips swollen from his kisses, you look at him to meet his gaze.

“You have no idea how hard it was to stop myself from kissing you on stage.”

“What?” you breathe out.

“Y/N, I’m fucking crazy about you and seeing you come over your stage fright, sing that song… our song, fuck, that did some unbelievable things to me. Please tell me you felt the same thing!” He is begging, not just with his words, but with his eyes as well and it crushes your soul entirely.

“I did. Harry, I always do when I’m with you.”

“Fucking Hell,” he breathes out before kissing you again. “You are… everything, Love,” he mumbles against your lips and you can’t push down the smile stretching across your face, hearing him say the same words he said right after the song.

“You’ve told me that,” you tease him, his gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his famous half-smirk, heart fluttering at the sight of him.

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x vocalist!reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles au

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 3 years

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big brother to the rescue.

BEN MILLER

TRIPLE FRONTIER. ┃ USEFUL LINKS.

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! hope you're doing well :) i was thinking about a ben miller fic where when they're in the bar towards the beginning the reader is there with her friends and the boys push benny to talk to her bc he's getting distracted from conversation by her across the place. thanks a ton 💖

❝ words: about 1.6k.

❝ a / n: if you'd like to read a second part, lemme know! don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it, i’d really appreciate it!

“C’mon, little brother. She’s been looking at you the whole night”. Will says palming his back, after catching him distracted for the third time.

“Go, before I do”. Frankie challenges him with a petty smile, knowing it’s going to be enough to force the boxer to take the step.

Taking a deep, deep breath, finding in that gesture the encouragement he needs, Benny goes straight to you, waiting for the bartender to serve you another beer.

At first, you don’t notice his presence, until the unknown guy stops by your side leaning too over the bar. You two cross your gazes, sharing a soft smile that makes your knees tremble. The blonde looks really good, but for some reason, you have the feeling that he could be an idiot, so when he throws at you one of those horrible pickup lines, you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I’m gonna give you advice. Don’t hit a girl like that”. You just reply with a chuckle, referring to his words.

“I’m more into hitting men”.

For a second, where you were about to leave with your drink, you squint at him having a sip and trying to understand the meaning of his affirmation.

“I box, professionally”.

“Oh…” You nod your chin, puckering your lips, showing him that this fact doesn’t impress him at all. “Congrats. Good luck in your next fight”.

Not giving him the chance to continue the talk, you come back to your table under the attentive looks of your friends, who are laughing at the poor guy and the gesture on his face. His brothers, on the other hand, have slapped their faces whilst shaking their heads disappointed. As soon as Benny joins him, Santi slaps the back of his neck, causing him to choke in his beer.

“There must be something wrong with my eyes, ’cause I can’t take them off you? Really, Benny? Really?”

The guys are laughing when Pope repeats his sentence, as Will puts an arm over his shoulders. “You’re lucky to have me… Big brother to the rescue”.

Anna nudges you, making you turn on your stool to watch a second guy walking towards you, very secure of himself. The only thing you wanted tonight was to have fun with your friends and seems it’s not going to be an option. Crossing a leg over the other and nailing an elbow on the table, resting your chin on your palm, you force a smirk when he offers you a kind smile.

“Good nights, ladies, sorry to interrupt. William, a pleasure”.

The man holds your free hand without asking for it to stretch it. Firmly. Like only a soldier would do —as your father does. He turns for a second to his friends, laying his oceanic and hypnotic eyes on you with a charming and funny grimace on his face.

“Sorry ‘bout my brother, you know... too many punches”. He has captivated your friends, who are gasping for him and the honeyed tone he’s using, covered by a raspy voice. “He has watched you looking at him and he was nervous, but he’s not a bad guy. Just a little asshole. But he’s worth it, believe me”.

“Okay”. You reply slowly, raising an eyebrow earning your attention little by little.

“He has begged me to not come, but I think you’re too smart to not have a date with him”.

“Your brother was right, you didn’t have to come. And you’re wrong, more or less. I’m very smart, but having a date with him doesn’t seem a very intelligent idea”.

“Got it. But he’ll be waiting for you at seven in Kaleo’s, tomorrow night”. A negative it’s not an option to the soldier, showing you his perfect white teeth in a huge smile clapping his hands before leaving. “Good night, ladies. Have a good time”.

Since last night, you've been debating with your friends if you should go to the date just to prove both men were wrong. Lucy would call you crying if you text her in case the guy is another idiot.

The first test is to see if he'd wait for you, arriving thirty minutes later than the hour William told you. Your heart can't help but race a little when you find the blonde boxer sitting on the hood of a black Mustang, in front of the restaurant. Wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans, he has both legs crossed and his hands laced over his lap. Head bowed down and a sigh escaping his lips as he checks the clock on his wrist. Poor guy, he's thinking you are not going to come.

You send a picture of him to the chat group where your friends are asking you if he's still there and, in less than a second, you receive a bunch of heart emojis from all of them. Keeping your phone in a pocket, as you tuck in your hands too, you begin to walk towards him. Step by step. Taking your time with a soft smirk curving your lips as you come closer and closer. Watching him texting someone too, you roll your eyes, imagining it's to some random chick to hang out with, due you have stood him up. Until you're almost leaning above his shoulder and you see he's texting his brother —who is very interested in knowing if you're there or not. You melt as he replies: “amma wait another thirty minutes, maybe there's traffic”.

“You can say to your brother I'm here”. You whisper into his ear, taking him by surprise and causing the boxer to jump off from the hood.

“Oh, fuck. You scared the shit outta m— Where you readin' my phone?”

“Nah, I've some witch in me”. You lie terrible, feeling goosebumps on your arms when his gesture changes suddenly.

A grin like a Cheshire cat decorates his face, offering you his phone as he pressed the small microphone in the bottom right corner.

“Hey, big brother, I came. I hope you weren't wrong”.

“I'm Ben, by the way”. He introduces himself as keeping his phone in a pocket, to offer you his right hand.

“(Y/N)”. You stretch it then, feeling a little nervous at his touch.

“So, this is the plan. We have a beer, and if you think I'm a freak, you can run away before dinner. No questions, no explanations. You just… leave”.

God, that's really sweet. He's nervous too and you can see in his blue eyes how scared he is if you really decide to disappear.

“Deal”. You accept, tilting your head to the restaurant.

A couple of minutes later Ben is sitting in front of you and the first thing that captivates your attention is the fact that he doesn't put his phone on the table. Living in the technology era, everybody keeps an eye on their devices. Constantly. But he's not like everybody. He wants to talk. Know about you. What you do in your free time, what you do for a living, what unveils you at night… And you talk for hours.

Ben tells you what pushed him to be in the army, why he decided to dedicate his life to boxing and he also jokes about how you could fix him up after his fighting. Something like a plan of the future. Together. As friends —as he points out to not make you feel uncomfortable, thinking that he is forcing you to have a relationship. You also discover that your taste in music and movies are very similar, just like your hobbies. And that makes you think about the fact that William will tell you “I wasn't wrong”.

The boxer gladly takes you home, not stopping your chat even when one of the two of you doesn't know what to say, Benny has shown you in some way he enjoys too much the sound of your voice though —how it goes a little higher when you're excited about something, how your throat vibrates when you laugh. And he's falling in love with the disgusted tic that wrinkles your nose when you don't like something, in a funny gesture.

You would die for staying together a little more, but you have obligations to attend tomorrow and your friends haven't ceased sending your texts asking you how it's going. As Ben stops his car next to your house, you sigh not knowing what to do —if just say bye, thank you, ask for his number, kiss him? Yes, you'd like to kiss him right now, but what does it say about you? Should you wait until the second date?

“Got a fight tomorrow night if you're free”. His proposition pushes you back to reality, turning at him on your seat while resting a shoulder against it. “You can invite your friends, mine will be there”.

“Your brother too?” You ask giggling, noticing the change on his grimace to somewhat underwhelmed because of your interest.

“Yeah, he will come”. Ben mumbles pressing his lips after nodding briefly.

“Ugh… Is he the kind of person who has fun saying I told you?”

Ben's gesture suddenly changes again. The shine in his blue deep eyes reappears and you provoke him a strong laugh when you furrow your nose like he literally adores.

“You've had a good night then?”

“Yes”. You don't hesitate to respond, leaning towards him to press your lips on his cheek with a loud kiss.

“See? He told you”. Ben can't help but make fun of you, earning a soft punch to his shoulder that makes him laugh one more time. “It's in the Holou gym, at seven”.

“Okay, I'll not forget it”. You reply, taking your phone and setting an alarm an hour before starting to have time to get ready. “Good night, Ben”.

“Good night, (Y/N)”.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221

TRIPLE FRONTIER: @phoenixhalliwell @goldielocks2004 @pedritomando @spideysimpossiblegirl @im-an-adult-ish @chibsytelford

#triple frontier imagine #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #benny miller x reader #ben miller #ben miller x reader #benny miller

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iristhedeadflower · 2 years

Text

violetta season one: final thoughts

so as you have all been made painfully aware by now, i just finished my s1 rewatch! i genuinely had no idea i’d have so much fun with it?? i remembered it being a lot less enjoyable than how it actually was! its also such a peculiar feeling to go back to the beginning of something after the end, seeing everyone so small and cute and all...but i digress. ive decided to separate this post in four points: storylines, characters, ships, songs. so here we go!

1. storylines

no one knows anything! angie’s identity is a secret! vilu attending the studio is a secret! matias’ house arrest is a secret! because of this the characters are literally stressed 24/7 and might have a stroke at any moment and its mostly sad especially when you think the truth comes out like in the last ten eps and everyone is so miserable because of the outcome. you’d think after everything blows up in their faces they’d stop lying to each other so much but. we’ve all seen the following seasons haven’t we. less lying would’ve been appreciated but then again, what are you gonna do for 80 eps lol.

THE S1 BANTER HOWEVER...JUST IN GENERAL, TRULY SO SO SO IMPORTANT, ITS SO FUN!!

2. characters

i’ll start with the characters i like:

vilu’s a baby!!! she’s such a likeable main character i love to follow the story through the eyes of! she loves music and we love that for her! and in s1 especially i feel like her ‘mistakes’ are justified bc she truly has no idea how to act in the world she’s been sheltered from her entire life. her friendships with the main group are golden and i love how much they support her especially in the beginning

fran’s character doesn’t get to shine yet bc of tomas who truly ruins her in s1. i can’t wait for her to be her amazing self in s2 and 3. for now ill just say shes my italian sister and i love her to death but s1...not her season

CAMI!!!! i LOVE her??? i swear for the longest time i did not care about her character and even found her quite annoying but the way i completely 180ed on her for this rewatch!! she’s so funny and chaotic and HELLO?? LITERALLY SORRY I LOVE HER SO MUCH she deserves the world

SAME WITH LEON, ive always really liked him but the way i’ve just learned to appreciate him that much more, he’s a snarky bitch and i love his s1 characterisation he’s so important to me

ludmila...look i love her in such a derogatory way, like if you want me to hate her don’t make her so likeable??? she’s such a menace to society literally how were people not constantly scared for their lives especially in s1. but i’ll say it once again: if she wasn’t such an annoying asshole s1 would’ve ended at episode 3?? she really pushes everyone’s buttons to do shit and you know what?? she deserves respect for that alone. my girl, we’ll get you to the finish line

NATY IS MY FAVOURITE CHARACTER AND SHE RECONFIRMS HER POSITION. I JUST LOVE HER SO MUCH. HER S1 BITCHINESS I WILL MISS HER SO MUCH BUT I FORGOT JUST HOW AMAZING IT IS...<3333

angie!!! my absolute beloved, deserved so much better. she gives such distinct cool aunt vibes and i love that about her!!

jade, i love jade i’ve always loved jade i’m a jade apologist, she’s done nothing wrong. everything is m*tias and g*rman’s fault <3

PABLO! I FINALLY CARE ABOUT HIM!!! ive desperately wanted to care for him for ages and now i do thank you season one. damn he’s such a good guy, i hate how they ruin him in s2...

GREGORIO MY BELOVED. rodrigo pedreira is truly the best actor of the show, nobody can tell me otherwise, truly put his whole rodrigussy in s1 gregorio man i LOVE him

olga and ramallo i both love and hate yknow. they get on my nerves but they’re always so supportive of vilu <33

LENA. YOU ARE MY GIRL!!! I LOVE YOU, and everything you’ve done for the community. anxiously waiting your s2 return <3

onto the characters i don’t like:

tomas. annoying whiny pissbaby with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. im so glad you’re gone forever. good riddance

german. you better watch your back i forgot just how much shit you cause and how much pain you get other people to go through. you make my murder vibes spike fr

matias...master manipulator i cant believe i have to put up with you up until the end of the series. you deserve to rot in jail with your piece of shit father FOREVER. jade queen get a restraining order <3

MAROTTI. WEBFUIRRIUVEIUBBRTIUGTGTGJES. I DONT NEED TO EXPRESS MY FEELINGS TOWARDS THIS MAN AS YOU ARE ALL VERY AWARE OF THEM ALREADY.

mourning our kings that didn’t make it to s2: luca, best representation of italian brother who gets on your nerves but at least one of your friends finds cute. napo, every day i wish we had at least one throwaway line of what he was doing now, pushed luty to be their most authentic mean lesbian couple selves and he’s a trooper for that, looked at them once and was like damn these bitches gay good for them. braco, i wish we knew what the hell you were on 80% of the time. dance on tomas’ grave for me, sweet chariot.

so many more characters exist but i don’t have much to say on them lol so onto the ships we go!

3. ships

i’ll differentiate between canon and non canon ships, so for canon (as in not necessarily endgame, but happened in the show)

LEONETTA. they set such a high standard for everyone else. violetta chooses leon, time and time again, and she LOVES HIM!!! leon is such a charming ass boyfriend too, they’re so couple goals i love them t*mletta who??? nah i only care about healthy loving couples who value each other’s opinion and consent <3

PABLANGIE!!! should’ve been endgame OBVIOUSLY?? they have so much love for each other are you KIDDING ME??? MAN THEYRE SO GOOD, i always think about that scene before the youmix auditions when pablo’s giving this encouraging big speech to the kids and angie looks at him from behind a door with the BIGGEST HEART EYES god they make me insane fr

naxi and brodmila im indifferent towards tho if i had to pick one over the other id say s1 brodmila is pretty cute, i love to see how cami’s attitude shines in a relationship and they’re not super weird and toxic yet so i see the appeal

t*mletta (and all tomas ships with that) and g*rmangie i hate both equally at this point i have to say i truly do not see how people could ship either of them but to each their own i guess after all i mean...you know me i dont gravitate towards canon ships in general

which brings me to my non canon part of this

AGH, I KNOW WHY YOURE HERE. DO YOU ENJOY MY SCREAMING AND CRYING, MORTALS? NO ONE, NOTHING EVER WILL MAKE ME FEEL THE WAY LUTY MAKES ME FEEL. THROWING UP. SHAKING IN MY BED. THRASHING AROUND. GIVING UP MY PHYSICAL FORM FOR REAL! GOD THEM...they are so bad for my mental health and YET! i have no idea what i would do without them. “so you...love me?” NO WAY!! NO WAY. NO. LIKE I CANT THINK ABOUT IT YOU FEEL ME?? EIGHT BREAKUPS ONE BROKEN LEG A THOUSAND BROKEN HEARTS TWO BITCHY JEALOUS ASS LESBIANS WHO CANT LIVE WITHOUT EACH OTHER. YOU GET THE WHOLE PACKAGE

on a lighter note, franletta!! babies!! i feel like they shine a lot more in s2 but they’re so adorable with their little mutual crush and their hugs and cheek kisses and everything god and jesus they’re so good

JADANGIE OOOOH THEYRE SO GREAT. dump german and DATE ALREADY i love them ohhh...the tension...the they. i can’t elaborate im sorry you all know how i am with them theyre so AMAZING

4. songs

s1 songs are weird for me bc there are a couple i love, but none as much as i love certain s2 and s3 songs...they’re all pretty ok for me except for a few as you’ll see. in general i’d say its an okayish season songwise but if i needed to rank them for the songs alone it’d probably be third place. but as i said, i did a tierlist for this portion of the post so here is it!!

(idk why theyre not included in the tierlist but verte de lejos and ahi estare would be like, right in the middle of the two green tiers, and cuando me voy is in the i love yall tier)

in conclusion: i love season one. i didn’t remember just how much i loved it, but i do! it was so fun rewatching it knowing what comes next and i found a new love for characters i didn’t expect to. i have no idea when ill ever rewatch it so i wanted to give it a proper sendoff with this post. but now...onto s2 we wander!!!!!

this is iris violetta extravaganza s1, signing off <3

#iris violetta extravaganza s1 #damn its crazy that this is the last time im tagging something with that #i mean. not true i still have one post i need to make. youll see #but yeah this is a monster of a post enjoy!!

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Text

okayyy so i had something heavier/hurt-comforty in the works as a gapfiller about mickey processing (bc we all need that!!!) but this fluffy little 3+1 about ian and mickey singing to each other happened instead— i hope u enjoy💞

a 3+1 of 3 times ian sang to mickey, and one time mickey sang to ian (to give context to the absolutely wild 11x09 serenade)

also the biggest shoutout to @southside-forever’s 80s gallavich playlist which has SO many bops and inspired bits of this😌

Mickey didn’t really know when it all started— Ian was always fucking humming these days, always whistling or singing some tune under his breath when he came out of the shower. He was more buoyant recently, lighter— the security gig was going well, and these days it felt like something looming and heavy had lifted, releasing the crooked hunch out of Ian’s shoulders that had taken root the sour morning weeks before as he shoveled Fruit Loops and Jameson into his mouth. Since then, it felt like he and Ian were finally on the same goddamn page for once— like they had a purpose, like they were moving forward.

Or at least, moving forward on the weekdays— but today was a slow, lazy Saturday, and Mickey was still laying in bed in a tank top and boxers, sweaty and entangled in the crumpled sheets, laying back with his head on the pillow and playing some overly-gory sharpshooter game on his phone. He’d been trying to beat this fucking level a million times, but his thumb couldn’t move quickly enough at the pivotal moment when he had to shoot a bunch of enemy forces— he’d been at the game for a good half hour, since when Ian had sleepily stumbled off of the mattress sporting a full bedhead to go take a shower, and Mickey was starting to get a tinny, sharp headache from staring at his phone screen for too long. He was just starting to consider getting up, to peel off his sweaty tank top and head downstairs to grab some coffee— when Ian came into the room from his shower, a fraying towel wrapped around his lower half and his torso slick with excess water droplets. Mickey flickered his eyes up from his game for a moment, taking an… appreciative glance, and then quickly focused his attention back on his pixelated mission as Ian stood in front of the dresser in the cramped bedroom, and started to rustle through the drawers for a t-shirt.

Mickey maneuvered his buff video game avatar through a minefield, biting his lip in concentration— when his sharp focus was suddenly infiltrated by Ian, singing under his breath in an airy tone.

“Ooooooh we’re halfway there.”

Mickey gritted his teeth slightly and tried to pour all his attention into the pivotal moment of the level, but half of his mind was being pulled to listen to Ian’s gravelly voice, continuing to softly murmur to himself in a tone that was ridiculously off-key.

“She says we’ve gotta hoooold on, to what we’ve got—”

Mickey’s phone screen flickered. GAME OVER.

Mickey wanted to throw his phone at the fucking wall. He inhaled, then pressed “Start Game” again, one last time— and again, his focus was disrupted by Ian, singing under his breath as he pulled on his jeans and gently pattered his hands in a rhythm on the top of the dresser— which was endearing and sappy as fuck, sure, but it was not helping Mickey with the task at hand. Mickey puffed out a sharp, frustrated breath, keeping his eyes on his phone screen.

“The fuck are you singing for right now?”

Ian suddenly gave a sheepish smile over his shoulder as he rifled through their sock drawer, like he’d been caught in the middle of doing something wrong.

“Don’t know. Song was just stuck in my head I guess.”

Mickey glared at Ian, pressing his thumb to the screen to pause his game. “Cut that shit out.”

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, sitting on the edge of the mattress to pull on his socks. “You should be thanking me for serenading you with your fucking eighties dad music. I could be singing Carly Rae Jepson right now, or some other pop bullshit that you hate.”

Mickey felt an involuntary, amused smirk split onto his face, and he tried to turn it into a scowl. Fucking adorable motherfucker.

“Okay, tough guy. If anything you should be thanking me for cleansing your ears from the techno garbage that you used to listen to.”

Ian gave a soft smile, shoulders turning fully towards Mickey now that he’d finished pulling on his socks— and then he turned and clambered into the bed, hovering above Mickey and causing Mickey’s fingers to go slack around his phone case. Mickey could smell the warm, freshly-showered scent of him, all cheap bar soap and Old Spice deodorant, and felt the soft press of his t-shirt through Mickey’s thin tank top— an overly worn t-shirt, one of Mickey’s, that stretched just a little too tight over Ian’s torso.

Ian looked down at Mickey, fucking beaming for some reason, his eyes light. He swooped down, pressing a soft, quick kiss above Mickey’s eyebrow. And then—

“Take my haaaand, we’ll make it I sweeear”

Mickey felt an involuntary, uncomfortable chuckle bubble up out of his ribcage. Was Ian fucking… singing? To him? It definitely seemed like it. And as much as he didn’t want it to, because this was fucking sappy and ridiculous and… well, gay— Mickey couldn’t help the fact that his husband leaning over him, breathily singing the tune of one of their goddamn wedding songs in his husky tone-deaf voice, made Mickey’s blood run a little bit hotter; which was bullshit, because absolutely nothing about this should be hot, and it was probably the most disgustingly married thing that Mickey could think of— but apparently everything about Ian, every dorky and fucking god-awful cringey thing that he did, was a turn-on, or at least according to Mickey’s thudding heartbeat and sweaty palms right now.

Ian’s face was still hovering centimeters above his, his eyebrows raised triumphantly and sporting a sappy fucking grin, like he knew how affected Mickey was by this, no matter how much Mickey grumbled and complained and tried to hide it.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “You’re fucking soft, Gallagher.”

Ian just leaned down again, kissing up the slope of Mickey’s neck and biting at his earlobe—and, okay, maybe Mickey could get behind Ian’s singing after all.

Ian’s singing was starting to get fucking ridiculous— and as much as it made something deep inside Mickey feel a light pang of relief, to see Ian being his old bubbly self again in the rhythms of routine and held by the safety net of financial stability because of the security gig that made the air between them less stale, it also meant that they were also around each other pretty much 24/7, and Ian’s serenades were starting to get relentless.

While they pretty much had a common ground in liking nostalgic 80s music, they would still inevitably argue about what music to play in the ambulance every morning— and whatever shitty album they eventually chose to put on, whether it was Ian’s pop garbage of Mickey’s mellower 80s tunes, Ian’s brain would apparently absorb all the songs like a fucking sponge and he’d start singing them all day long—in the kitchen, in the shower, even when they were just laying in bed on their phones and Ian would constantly hum absentmindedly.

Today they were driving to some bougie dispensary in Glencoe, near a bunch of ridiculous mansions on the very outskirts of the city, and it was Ian’s turn to pick the music— Mickey usually elected one of the well-loved CDs that he’d jammed into the glove compartment as they were refurbishing the ambulance, CDs that he’d kept since he was a kid when he piled them high in the corner of his grimy room next to a half-broken boombox— but as much as they were Mickey’s comfort CDs, Ian could only listen to Bon Jovi so many times before he started to slander 80s music as a collective genre.

“Can we just listen to something by someone who isn’t older than us, just this once?”

“Easy for you to say, Gallagher. At least the music that I like has fucking words.”

When it was Ian’s turn to pick the music, he usually picked more modern stuff with heavy beats and a thrumming bass (though more often than not he also appeased Mickey’s tastes with some “80s throwback” playlist he’d found on Spotify that he’d noticed Mickey would bob his head along to)—but on longer drives, like this one, it was easy to butt heads about the soundtrack. Ian had allowed Mickey to play through one of his Queen CDs that morning, and then Ian had put on some whiny indie bullshit from a playlist on his phone for the other half of the drive— now they were heading home after a long day, with the stereo turned low to a local radio station.

They’d settled into a comfortable silence, as they often did at the end of the day when their energy faded— Ian had stopped pattering his hands on the steering wheel like he usually did when he was amped up and buzzing with energy in the mornings, and Mickey could tell they were both ready to collapse onto the couch the second they set foot in the door.

Mickey blew out a deflated breath and reached to turn up the radio, tuning in to some middle-aged host with a cheery voice chattering about the heat wave in Chicago that upcoming weekend—and then the airwaves went silent, and there was the overdramatic sound of a slamming door and a gospel choir.

Ian’s ears nearly fucking perked up at the sound as the opening chords began.

“Life is a mystery… Everyone must stand alone…”

Ian immediately raised his voice to join in, the tired slouch leaving his shoulders.

“I hear you call my naaaame”

He turned to Mickey and pointed overdramatically, causing Mickey to shove his arm away but unable to quell the overly fond grin that he knew was blooming on his face.

“And it feels like… home.”

The beat dropped, rolling into the chorus, and Ian energetically drummed his hands against the steering wheel once more.

“C’mon, Mick!” Ian laughed, throwing his head back dramatically as he sang while still trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“When you call my name, it’s like a little prayer, I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there.” Ian’s pitchiness clashed with the melody, but he was too focused on singing and bopping side to side in this seat to really care.

Mickey rolled his eyes, his lips still turned upwards at the corners while he watched his absolute dork of a husband jamming to Madonna. “Isn’t this song about giving someone a blowjob or some shit?”

Ian gave an easygoing laugh. “Technically, yes. And it’s also definitionally a gay anthem, which means you have to sing with me.”

Mickey scoffed and flipped Ian off. “Fuck off.”

Ian raised a playful eyebrow, and continued to sing with relentless eye contact:

“It’s like a dreeeeam, no end and no beginning”

Mickey felt heat rise into his cheeks against his will. No fucking way was he going to sing a Madonna song about a blowjob stone-cold sober at 2pm on a Tuesday while driving home from work with his fucking husband—which, wow, that was probably the gayest sentence that had ever crossed Mickey’s mind in his 26 years of existence (which was definitely saying a lot).

This wasn’t ever a place Mickey thought he’d be in— sitting beside Ian so comfortably, singing fucking songs while they drove home from their daily commute; getting to soak up all the warmth, all the brightness that had always radiated out of Ian so intensely that it nearly blinded him, a warmth that he’d always wanted to lean in closer to even when they were just scrawny kids in a shitty neighborhood still figuring everything out.

Maybe, just maybe— it was okay to lean in a little more.

By the time the chorus rolled around the third time, Mickey was begrudgingly humming along, like he usually did whenever the songs that Ian was singing on and endless loop got stuck in his own head and popped up while he was brushing his teeth or making toast for breakfast— by the time the final rhythmic chorus faded to silence on the radio waves, Mickey glanced over at Ian, singing at the top of his lungs, face slightly flushed and grinning ear to ear.

“Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there.”

Ian and Mickey were walking down the moonlit sidewalk, veering back home after an evening at Lip’s— the night had honestly been weirdly enjoyable, which was definitely a welcome reprieve from all of Lip and Debbie’s intense back-and-forths about the house over the past few weeks. Tami and Lip had needed to go over to Brad and Cami’s for some bullshit crisis management about the stolen bikes, and Ian had readily agreed to watch Freddie— which meant that whether he liked it or not, Mickey had spent his Friday evening at Lip’s half-packed apartment watching Ian coo over a one-year-old, which was… not a totally unwelcome sight.

Trying to keep his shit together, Mickey had snapped a picture to send to the Gallagher family group chat, and everyone had immediately given them shit about being so eager to babysit and get their hands on a toddler like a couple of baby-crazed newlyweds—which had caused Mickey to start overzealously complaining in the groupchat to compensate while Ian occupied Freddie. Kev had noticed the texts and swung by Lip and Tami’s house after closing the Alibi to keep the two of them company, bringing by a pack of beers—and now he and Ian were warm and happily buzzed, relieved of their babysitting duties and walking the chilly city streets back towards the Gallagher house.

Halfway through the walk Ian had interlaced their fingers, and now their arms were swinging slightly as they turned the final corner to walk down the last stretch of pavement towards the chain-link fence—when suddenly, Ian stopped cold a few houses away from the Gallagher front porch. He looked down at Mickey, raising their entangled hands and pressing a kiss to the inside of Mickey’s wrist.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Ian just looked back at him—his cheeks glowing pink from the few beers, his eyes light and unguarded under the streetlamps.

“This spot reminded me of something.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. Of fucking course it did. Ian was a sappy motherfucker on the best of days, but with a couple of beers in him he was practically uncontrollable.

“What?”

All of a sudden Ian let go of his hand, punching into the air dramatically.

“Cause love is a battlefiiiield”

Mickey laughed, feeling warm hot blood rush to his cheeks in delight—and fuck, he loved his husband so goddamn much. And just this once, mostly because of the own alcohol running thick in his bloodstream, Mickey made the lurching decision to join in, stepping closer towards Ian and raising his hands equally as dramatically.

“No promises, no demands”

“Woooooah”

Ian had practically doubled over with laughter, tears welling in the corner of his eyes—and Mickey let himself get lost in it, the warm feeling buzzing through his body, of love and joy and fuck knows what else, getting to sing on a fucking street corner with his husband a decade after everything had gone so gut-wrenchingly wrong, leaving him bleeding on this same pavement.

They stumbled over their own feet up the stairs, fumbling out of their clothes and collapsing into bed—and later, just as Mickey was on the brink of fading into unconsciousness, Ian mumbled the same refrain into the crook of Mickey’s neck in a sleepy voice, like the song was still stuck in his head and he just couldn’t help it.

“Love is a battlefield.”

It was late— it was one of those slow, tender nights when the past was hanging heavy over them, laying pressed together in bed as thin streams of moonlight poured in through the blinds, pressing whispers into each other’s skin about all of the hurt and the doubt that had been seeped up and healed with time.

Ian was sprawled back on the bed and Mickey was laying with his head resting on his chest, feeling his ribcage expand and contract each time he took a breath. They’d absorbed so much the past few weeks— the sick, twisted blows of a loss that felt all the more jagged and painful because of how muddled the grief for Terry was—but after a few days had passed they’d found a place to settle, in the comforting press of the silence in their bedroom.

Mickey was mindlessly playing with Ian’s fingers, listening to his steady breathing—and without thinking, he ran a finger over the cool silver of Ian’s wedding band, letting out a breathy chuckle.

“I still can’t believe we’re married sometimes, man.”

Mickey could feel Ian’s lips curve upward into a smile from where his mouth was pressed against the top of Mickey’s head.

“Yeah, me either.”

And Mickey felt something bubbling, something welling— and he didn’t ever fucking sing, not unless Ian made him, but Ian was always fucking dropping song lines into sappy moments like this.

So he took a breath, and, half-singing but mostly talking, in a way that sounded almost mocking if it wasn’t so soft around the edges, he let out into the dark silence of the room:

“At last….”

He wasn’t even singing, not really—he was just sort of… saying the words in a singsongy way, but he knew that Ian could tell what he was doing, what he was trying to do. He was trying to be as fucking sweet and soft and pliant as Ian was, as Ian always was in moments like this, in a way that sometimes made Mickey feel brittle and hard in comparison. This time, Mickey wanted to breathe out the love he had for him into this moment, the love that made his ribcage feel like it was going to fucking burst— a love that he felt erupting outwards when Ian had played this song for him for the first time a few weeks before the wedding, and had asked with a shy smile, “D’you think it’d be okay if you walked down the aisle to this song?”

Ian’s chest shook with laughter, and he carded a hand through Mickey’s hair. And then, in his gentle, sleep-soft voice, in a breathy tone that tickled the shell of Mickey’s ear:

“My looove has come along”

Mickey rolled his eyes fondly, just to prove something to himself, even though he knew Ian couldn’t see him—and then he reached a hand upward and leaned back, drawing Ian’s chin forward to press his lips to his for a brief, lingering moment.

Mickey settled back against Ian’s chest again, and felt Ian press a kiss to the top of his head. He smiled contentedly, closing his heavy eyelids.

Maybe being a couple of sappy motherfuckers wasn’t so bad.

#i wrote this so fast bc it is midterms szn and i am a busy bee! but simply needed to get this out of my brain #i love y’all and hope u enjoy the softness!!#also @ the anon asked me for more drunk happy husbands here u go<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ixm #ian and mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich fanfiction

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cryingoverafictionalcharacter · 3 years

Text

Prompt: You have always had a problem with self image. To you, there would always be someone prettier, someone funnier, someone more worthy of love, but to Fred, you are the most amazing person in the world, and he’s determined to make you see that.

A/N: I’M GOING THROUGH IT CAN YOU TELL??? Anyway, I really just wanted to feel loved, so I wrote Fred being amazing and stuff, so yeah! Also, Yule ball bc I fucking love writing it, its so cute and fun.

Warnings: Kind of angsty but ends fluffy, Swearing, so many commas, Fred being *soft*. SELF DEPRICATION!!! I truly believe everyone reading this is absolutely beautiful and kind and amazing in their own unique way, this is just how I be feeling sometimes.

You walked down the hallway, holding your books close to your chest and trying not to bump into anyone. You were headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, just wanting the day to be over.

For the past few weeks, all you could feel was dread. The Yule ball was coming up, and while a night full of dancing and music and having fun sounded amazing, you also knew you weren't going to be asked to go.

Now, you only had a week until the ball, and you were planning on how you were going to spend the night, probably reading, and talking with your owl, seeing nobody would be around.

You didn’t know what you were doing wrong. You felt like no matter how many times you tried to be funny or open, you were always met with a closed door. No matter how much effort you put into your appearance, you ended up looking the same, or worse. No matter how much you studied, you were always a little more behind than you wanted to be. No matter what you did, someone was doing it better.

Of course nobody saw you that way, and especially not Fred Weasley. You had become good friends with the Weasley twins your first day at Hogwarts. You were all in the same year, and got along quite well, seeing the three of you all had a bit of a mischievous streak. But Fred noticed that over the years, you seemed less like yourself. You were more introverted, you didn’t laugh as openly as you used to, you didn’t smile as much, and it broke his heart.

Fred had developed a crush on you around 5th year. He loved everything about you, how your laugh was louder than others, how your eyes crinkled when you smiled, how you were kind and open to everyone you met, how you were able to make him laugh, but also take him seriously when he was hurting. Of course George started to notice, and would tease him constantly.

“Just ask her out!” George would say, which would just make the older red head smile but shake his head.

“If she said no it would ruin our friendship, I don’t want to lose her” Fred would say, wishing situations would be different.

However, Fred was now watching you as you sped walked down the hallway to the common room. He could tell something was off, so he shouldered George, signaling that he was going to break off for a bit, before following you into the common room.

You quickly muttered the password and went inside. The common room was empty, which was a huge plus for you, not wanting to be social for the rest of the day. You took no time plopping your things down before laying back on one of the couches. Maybe now you could get some reading done in peace and not have to think about-

“Hey, are you ok?” Fred asked. you hadn’t heard him walk in and the sound of his voice made you jump.

“Oh! Fred, uh yeah, yeah I’m fine why?” You asked, heart beating quickly but not because of the recent scare.

You had also been crushing on the Older Weasley twin for a while. You loved how he always wanted to make you smile, even on the days you thought nothing could make you feel better. He introduced you to his family, who you love dearly, and also made you feel somewhat appreciated. Like you knew that he wanted you around. Of course you would never tell him your feelings, too afraid that he would reject you, and ruin your friendship.

“Well, I saw you walking in here and I thought you looked a little overwhelmed, so I wanted to see if there was anything I could do?” Fred asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Really its nothing, my brain is just somewhere else today I guess” You said, trying to move past the topic.

“Well I’m all ears if you want to talk” He said, coming over and sitting across from you on the same couch you were currently resting on.

There was a part of you that didn’t want to bother him. That he would surely be uninterested in any personal problems you may be having. But then there was another part of you who knew him as your oldest friend. As the person who has been by your side through everything, and suddenly before you could stop yourself, the words were tumbling out of your mouth.

“Its stupid, but I’m just bummed out that I’m not going to the Yule ball” You said, causing Fred's eyes to widen a bit but you didn’t notice, too busy looking down at your hands.

“Why aren't you going?” Fred asked

“Well I was thinking of just going with some friends, but most of my friends already have dates and going alone would look lame as fuck. So I think I would rather just stay in and read or something” You said, shrugging a bit.

“Well I don't have a date” Fred said, taking you both by surprise.

“You don't?” You asked, genuinely surprised he hadn’t asked someone, or at least been asked by some other girls who you knew where fawning over him. In reality, Fred was thinking about how he would ask you, and whether or not you already had a date.

“Nope, so if you want we can go together so you we don’t have to suffer alone all night” Fred said, adding some humor to the conversation. You smiled at him, before thinking it over.

“He’s only asking you as a friend” You thought to yourself.

“Sure! God knows what kind of trouble you would get into having to spend a whole night alone” You said, causing the both of you to laugh a bit.

“Great, so I’ll see you there?” He asked, to which you nodded your head.

“I’ll be there” You said smiling, before Fred rose to rejoin George, and tell him about the best thing that has happened to him all year.

The rest of the week went by in a flash. You and Fred were each to busy with either school or quidditch practice to really talk to each other, and you barely had time to go out and find a dress, but finally, the Yule ball was here, and you were freaking out.

“What the fuck am I doing?” You practically yelled to Angelina, who was sitting on her bed watching and you paced back and forward in your dress.

“You’re going on a date with the guy you’ve had a crush on since first year. What's the problem?” Angelina asked

“It wasn’t since first year!” You defended, before adding “And the problem is that I’m probably in love with him, and he probably thinks were only going together as friends, and I’m going to have to see him, and talk to him, and dance with him for HOURS while trying not to look like an idiot!”

“Y/n, I promise you wont look like an idiot, you look hot as hell” She said. You sent a look her way, causing her to laugh. “I’m being serious! this dress looks amazing on you, your hair is perfect, and I did your makeup so you know it could be better if you tried, you’re going to be great, so shut up and get your shoes on they’re waiting for us”

“Fine you said, finally stopping your pacing and taking a deep breath. What's the worst that could happen? A lot, but still, try and think positive.

Fred was standing at the bottom of the grand staircase waiting for you and Angelina to come down, Angelina being Georges date. Fred however couldn’t stop fiddling with the cuff of his jacket, which was starting to annoy George.

“Mate seriously, just chill out I’m sure everything's fine” George said, trying to somewhat relive his brothers anxiety.

“I know, I know, but what if she changed her mind, or-” Fred started, about to go off on a rant before being stopped when a sharp elbow jabbed him in the ribs. Fred was about to go off on George for the stab, but before he could he followed his eyes to the staircase, on which you and Angelina were currently walking down.

You looked amazing. Your hair framed your face perfectly, your dress coming down to your ankles and the color complimenting your skin tone. You were wearing heels, which only made you slightly taller but still, it was a few more inches that allowed you and Fred to almost be face to face. He was absolutely gobsmacked.

You were walking down the stairs, desperately trying not to trip with these shoes which you were not used to wearing and taking in the sight of Fred. He was wearing a dashing suit, and you could tell he had done his hair a bit, but besides that he was still Fred, the same Fred that made you laugh and made you feel wanted. The same Fred you fell in love with.

You finally reached the bottom of the stairs and came face to face with Fred, who still hasn’t said a word, the mere sight of you making his brain short circuit.

“Wow that bad?” You asked jokingly, but deep down you were a little worried about his lack of a reaction.

“What? No! No, you look amazing!” Fred said quickly, causing you to smile and blush a bit.

“Why thank you, you don't look to bad yourself” You said, and Fred couldn’t help but smile back.

“Shall we?” He asked, sticking out his left arm which you accepted.

“We shall” You said, causing the both of you to laugh before walking into the ball room.

The night was everything you expected and more. There was dancing and amazing music, and every once in a while you and Fred would just take a break and talk.

You were laughing with Fred about new prank idea when something caught your eye. There where two girls on the opposite side of the room, looking at the two of you and whispering to each other. Immediately your anxiety got the better of you, and all confidence you had gained during the ball now seemed to disappear.

“Would you excuse me for a second?” You asked, causing Fred’s eyes to furrow before he nodded, allowing you to pass him and walk out of the ball room. Fred watched as you left, before turning and making eye contact with George, who then made a hand motion at him to go follow you. So without thinking, he took off and tried to find where you went.

You were now standing outside, your elbows resting on a stone wall as you looked over the grounds, letting the cool autumn air wash over your skin and calm your nerves. You tried to relax but your mind couldn’t help but wander. This was stupid, you shouldn’t have come, you should have just stayed in your room and-

“Hey, are you ok?” Fred asked walking towards you, again causing you to jump a bit

“Hey Fred, yeah I’m ok I just wanted to get some air. You can go back if you want I wont mind” You said, trying to calm your breathing.

“Well I’m not going back without my date” Fred said goofily, coming to stand next to you and rest him arms by yours, but you didn’t laugh, just shook your head.

“You don’t have to call me your date Fred, I know you only asked me as a friend, so you don’t have to call this something its not” You said.

“What?” Fred asked, genuinely confused as to what you were talking about.

“Come on Fred, I know you only asked me because you felt bad. You didn’t have to waste your night on me I’m sure there are plenty of other girls you would have rather gone with” You said, still not looking at him.

“Why would I want to go with anyone else Y/n? You’re my best friend” Fred said, trying to make his feelings clear without actually having to say them just in case things didn’t go in the direction he wanted.

“Exactly, I’m your friend. You’ll only ever see me as a friend. You should be here with someone you like, someone you care about, someone who makes you happy and who you want to dance with and who you want to spend your time with” You said

“I already think all of that when I’m with you” Fred said, still not quite sure what you were saying.

“No you don't, not romantically. You could have asked any girl you wanted to come to the ball with you. Girls who are much prettier and funnier and more outgoing than me. Someone who you don’t have to ask out because you feel bad, but someone who you actually want to be with” you said, quickly wiping some tears that were threatening to fall.

Suddenly all the pieces came together for Fred. Why you had been so distant as of late, why you hadn’t been being yourself, why you seemed so low all the time. It was because at some point along the way, you developed an image of yourself that you weren’t good enough, or pretty enough, or funny enough. An image that wasn’t true, and to Fred, you were all of those things and more.

“Y/n, please look at me” Fred said, causing you to let out a breath before finally meeting his eye.

Your eyes shone from your recent tears, making them that much brighter, the moonlight danced off your skin and made your face seem to glow. Fred saw you, and saw the person he loved, and the person he needed to show was everything he would ever want. He took a deep breath, before bringing his hands up to cup your face and closing the space between you two, connecting his lips to yours.

You took a second to respond, mostly because you were in your head thinking ‘what the fuck, is this actually happening?!’ but then you took no time to melt into his touch, moving to hold his arms. After a while, you both finally pulled away, Fred looking into your eyes and smiling.

“Y/N, you are the funniest, most beautiful, most kind person I have ever known. I knew when I met you on our first day, I knew when I fell for you in fifth year, and I knew when I asked you to the ball last week. There is no one here I would rather be with than you” Fred said, causing tears to well in your eyes but this time in happiness.

“You had a crush for me in fifth year?” You asked, making both you and Fred laugh.

“Yes, and for some reason I still do, but hey if you don’t feel the same way I can just-” Fred started but you cut him off, grabbing his suit coat and bringing his lips down to meet yours again.

“I like you too” you said, quickly breaking the kiss to speak, “since sixth year”

“So, technically speaking you could say that I like you more than” Fred said, making you roll your eyes.

“Don’t ruin the moment” You joked, causing the two of you to laugh before re connecting your lips again.

The Yule ball was absolutely better than you could have ever expected.

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

Woooooo I hope you liked it! But yeah if you read this and really connected with it in the “I’m not feeling great about myself” kind of way, my DMs are always open, and I’m always happy to talk, so feel free to hmu. I love you all, you’re all amazing and beautiful and awesome, and thank you for reading <3

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley headcannon #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fic

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machinegunbun · 3 years

Text

this is based on a true story and i feel stupid typing out this novel

I slept with someone miles from home whenever I was 21 who looked suspiciously like Colson some details have been edited in order to protect identities/obscure timelines

Also shitty and boring it’s a rough draft forgive my URL also thought I could changw it when I made it omg

I’m gonna send this in pieces bc it just disappeared (I can’t take the hint omg)

~££~

The sound of pans clanging against a cold, concrete floor snap you back to your senses and also prompt you to press a Bluetooth earbud further into your brain, to drown it all out and get back to the flow. As the beat pounds on and on into your canal, aggressive lyrics soothing your movements into a ballet-esque orchestra repeating the task in front of you, you begin wrapping prepped food like a machine once again. Although burns, cuts, and bruises sting across your body (some of your trade, some for fun, and some from flat out vices) you pay no mind, as it is keeping you heavily grounded; Just as well, the crisp, wet, refreshing air (just faintly tinged with cigarette smoke,) of the emergency exit door wide open billow against your back, providing necessary healing and much needed relief from the aching muscles underneath your ratty shirt.

In the middle of your last piece of the steam table puzzle, you realize someone must be smoking this cigarette you smell? And it had been quite some time since your last, so it made you suddenly grit your teeth at the craving. Quickly checking the clock, you realize it is midnight, and you’re likely the last 2 in the store, so you need to hurry it up and finish cash drop. After all, it would be a long walk home in Cleveland, Ohio sleet.

You are jarred from your thoughts with a frigid, slender finger hooking your headphones around them and out of your ears. As you realize what Chipotle veteran is still left standing alongside you, you quickly pause the music and wipe your hands on a nearby towel before turning to face him.

“My bad I’m not done yet, if I’m holding you up Colson. I only have to stick this in the walk in, and count registers.”

A chuckle escaped the blonde don. He threw his hands up, so that you had to look up to see the tall, mysterious creature, as if to surrender. “I’m not a boss man, take your time. I just wanted to see if you needed a square. It’s been since lunch rush you had a break.” He stops to look at you sternly, although in fascination. “And you were here before me.”

“That’s okay,” you reassure, stacking bowls in your arms neatly, “I have to go by the gas station after this to get some.”

Colson begins snatching things from you to pace alongside you towards the cooler. “Let me help you. Take a break, I’ll GIVE you a cig, dude.”

You cringe at dude, because that is how everyone saw you no matter how many days you came in with make up and a clean apron. Nevertheless, you were grateful, and you told him as much.

You had become comfortable in the job itself the past 18 months, and you knew every employee from sheer silent and thoughtful observation, but you were sure this was the most you had talked to Colson (or the other, less attractive crew either, for that matter) and weren’t quite as content with small talk or favors. You noted sometime last week he must be having a hard time when you had to step on the line for him after an altercation with a customer, which he walked out over. First time in a year and a half, so you knew it must be serious.

Once the task was completed, Colson abruptly grabs you by the arm and forces a menthol into it.

“Let’s do that first and then we’ll blow this joint.” Ever the jokester, as he says this, he winks and pulls a joint from behind his ear.

“You got tricks,” I laugh

We walk out the back and Colson hops up onto a stack of Buffalo Rock crates to light the J. You walk a safe distance from him to light your much appreciated cigarette.

“So you don’t talk much,” Colson hisses, taking a big inhale, before continuing as he keeps the joint from running, “but I know you smoke, cause your backpack always REEKS, dude.” He cracks a smile, eyes low and beautiful eyelashes glistening in the flurries swirling around you.

You nod in acknowledgement, no sense denying that. “It’s for my glaucoma,” you joke dryly.

Colson snorts and chokes before leaning out with the bud to pass it.

“So how you be doing that shit all day? Lifting dishpans bigger than you and shit, doubles 6 days a week?” Colson inquires, and if it weren’t wishful thinking you would say he was checking you out. Hopefully not just to see if you’re a robot.

You smile meekly. “Well, you do it, too,” you remind.

“Yeah but I’m not a girl. I’m… Well, look at me,” he boasts playfully from atop his King of the Hill stack, arms spread out to show off, as the makeshift throne wobbles slightly below. “I’m six-foot-foe,” he smirks, holding fingers up as he annunciates.

You have to laugh at his gloating. “Well, as long as I want to eat, I’ll be here,” you dismiss as gently as you can. try as you might, This brings up the uncomfortable memory of your first month here, when Colson silently pushed a plate of steak towards you on your break after watching you struggling to stay vertical.

Colson knits a brow as brushes your fingertips softly to take the blunt back. “Another question, do you really be walking home, alone, in this shit every night?” He motions to the snow beginning to swirl.

“Yeah, I do what I have to. It was rough at first, now it’s like meditation. Only, like, 15 minutes,” you dismiss. You know you could have a car by now if you could give up the pills, and you feel the shame, all too familiar, welling up like a tight ball in your stomach.

“Well I can tell you you ain’t doing that shit tonight,” he affirms seriously, “cause I got a whip now!” His tone of concern Cascades easily info one of excitement.

You’re blushing now, whyyy? You’d been able to avoid everyone up to this point, sans your dealer. “You really don’t have to do that,” you say, though the wind off your face did sound more and more intoxicating as it whipped around the two of you.

“I INSIST,” he barks, putting the roach out between two fingers.

You make quick work of counting the registers while Colson stared on, expression unreadable. You grow more self conscious with each single you lay down , but try to ignore it.

“Damn, you a pro at this,” he snorts, sticking the same stack of hundreds through the bill counter over and over. “You one with the bands or something. Almost faster than this thing,’ he motions to the machine on the desk.

"And that’s a wrap,” you conclude, stacking drawers inside the safe with a quickness. “I’m just gonna change and we can leave.”

Cautiously and curiously, Colson stands in the doorway, waiting.

“Oh, my bad, you might wanna do that in private,” he smirks, stepping to the side.

Quickly you pull the door closed to the tiny office and pretend you aren’t trying to see if Colson is looking thru the small glass window, while you quickly strip to a crop top, sweatpants and a light jacket. Once finished, you attempt to gather your composure, and exit to find him scrambling to gather his as well.

You head in silence to his car, a used ‘96 Toyota. Once inside, Colson shakes and rubs his hands together, flicking a heater on immediately. “Sh-it, it is freezing,” he remarks, warming his hands by his mouth, eyes grazing across you, “aren’t you dying in that??” He motions to your flannel.

“Business as usual,” you say. If only he knew how many pharmaceuticals and trauma went into that demeanor.

“Shid, fuck that,” he resists, and begins digging in his backseat. “Here, this is Slim’s, wear it to make me feel better.”

You slip the jacket over your lap and give a nod of appreciation. You hated feeling like a homeless hopeless.

Colson reaches for the auxiliary cord and stops himself from pulling his phone from his pocket. You try hard not to stare at his briefs peeking over his belt.

“Let’s see what you’re bobbing your head to all day,” he smiles, hand out.

You oblige, only to realize who it was paused on.

“Oh, wait, not that playlis–”

“Dawg, is this my shit??” Colson almost screams, although curiously he doesn’t seem creeped out, he’s… Excited?

“Uh…” You bite your lip. “You… Did promote it constantly. Well, still do,” you stammer.

“No, no. Do NOT be embarrassed, this is fuckin sick! Incredible,” he whispers in disbelief, hooking up the cord, as he pulls a devil’s horn with the other hand. “We have a fan!” He triumphs before putting it in reverse and backing away.

“So, I was thinking…” He trails, fingers drumming almost nervously on the steering wheel, “we could hang at my place for a bit? Our names are next to each other on the schedule, so I know you have TWO whole days off, too,” he reminds, almost shutting down any attempt at refusal.

“I have smoke,” you offer, “but no wraps.”

Colson grins big. “Perfect, I got both at the house.”

***

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