#Love makes a matching bracelet for Simon and he never takes it off

[ghouljams]

imagine Fae!Ghost being forced by love to sit down and do art projects/scrap booking or making little friendship bracelets and he only puts up with it because it’s her and he’s doing her a favor so more hooks! I think it would be so cute! Just this big exasperated Fae man who everyone fears and actively avoids doing art projects with his love because she begged him to.

More Fae!Ghost fluff, the fuckups can be sweet too, please God(my brain) let them be sweet(stop making me horny).

You have completely exploded all over the coffee table. Sitting on the floor sifting through journaling supplies and different colored threads, various scraps of paper from your day and about a million colored markers and little charms. Simon is giving you a wide berth as he tries to find a decent angle to get to his seat on the couch.

"So what're we avoiding here?" He asks, opting to go over the back of the couch to sit down.

"Deadline," you tell him, snipping at the edges of a cream colored paper star. He hums, and reaches past you to pick up a deep red, deeply tangled, bundle of string. He tucks it back against his palm and grabs the pink bundle as well.

"Always good to avoid," You hold your hand out for him to give you your supplies back, watching him wrap the thread neatly around his fingers. "There's a match on soon."

"No footie, I'm trying to focus," Simon frowns with a displeased hum, and settles the neat bundle in your palm. You watch him wrap the next one and are struck with an absolutely brilliant idea. "You could help, it'll go faster and then I can get back to my real work," you bat your lashes at him and rest your cheek against his knee. He stares at you for a long moment before his shoulders drop and he tells you,

"Fine, what do you need?"

Simon is very good with his hands. Which you already knew, but watching him make knots and loop thread is sort of mesmerizing. It's not exactly complicated, but he picks up patterns well, twisting little daisies between his fingers as you abandon work on your own bracelet. You're not sure if he's having fun or just humoring you, but it's nice sitting with him and working on something together.

You rest your head against his knee, writing out your day between scraps of paper. The tag from your morning tea, an event ticket, a sketch of the stamp on your hand courtesy of Simon. You feel so pleasantly warm and full in a way that you haven't since you were a kid. Simon reaches past you to snag a bead and returns to his work, you grab a marker to highlight your favorite parts of the day, the room is full of the quiet sounds of your work.

Simon grabs your wrist off your journal and pulls it to rest on his leg, tying his creation to your wrist. When you're allowed your wrist back you feel your chest swell at the neat little daisy chain, "Love" spelled in letter beads and resting over your pulse. Simon's fingers thread through your hair, scratching the base of your skull lightly.

"Didn't know you could do that," Simon mumbles, and you take your eyes off the best thing he's ever given you to look up at him. You hadn't even noticed until he'd pointed it out, but you're purring.

#Love makes a matching bracelet for Simon and he never takes it off #shows it off to könig who has never been more jealous in his life #me trying to think of the most chaotic hobby to give Love: a journalling #she probably sews too because i sew and i am so messy with it #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #reader x ghost #fae!Ghost #i could make her a doll hobbyist #theres truly no other hobby where you talk about decapitating people and eye removal to that degree

[atorionsbelt]

royjamie headcanons i’ve loved seeing so far:

brazil is too far for 2 codependent guys to handle so roy joins jamie, keeley (and barbara!)

as a result roy and jamie end up taking real vacations alone together during the off-season

the club has more international matches where jamie always plays roy’s tour guide and sightseeing together becomes their thing

phoebe makes them matching tie dye/bracelets

roy gets phoebe a bike and they both teach her

phoebe and jamie connect wonderfully and he lets her do his makeup/nails/braid his hair

roy is a good cook after helping raise phoebe, enjoys homemaking balanced meal plans for jamie’s training, and shares a whole other language with stepdad simon in the kitchen

roy and jamie have tea time after training and just talk and share more personal things they haven’t really told anyone else, since they share an intrinsic understanding of their baggage

jamie’s things gradually accumulate in roy’s home with every passing overnight training (a poor excuse), one day he’s accidentally moved in entirely and roy lets him

jamie steals roy’s shirts/hoodies/joggers, him dressing in black transforms into a positive tone

roy invites jamie to infiltrate his yoga nights

they almost always keep in contact whether it be shoulders touching, hands or feet under the table, etc. roy isn’t much into pda and jamie meets him in the middle

jamie is koala lap-sitter cuddle climber level clingy and it is warmly welcomed, just like roy giving him minimum 5 ft of distance indoors

roy never gets sick of jamie wanting talk to him and share fun facts/memes all of the time

when roy and jamie stop hiding their relationship, the media don’t take it seriously and call them brotherly/paternal

the team already assumed they were together before it even happened. my favorite is colin’s “so windmills wasn’t a euphemism?”

jamie makes fun of the fans by saying he has a daddy kink, but then it’s not quite so funny anymore because [censored feral activities]

subverting the expectation that roy and jamie would instantly start their relationship with the rough/kinky dynamic (which is all good and fun), they instead begin gently and slowly to set up securely exploring those interests with time

roy and jamie do couples therapy to healthily cope whenever adjusting to big life changes together

roy waits out in the car for moral support if jamie ever visits his dad at rehab, and is fiercely protective and angry on his behalf

trent crimm is trusted to write press releases for them, as well as individual biographical novels

jamie changes the world by being the first out bisexual player

jamie has owned a roy kent chelsea jersey for years and now wears it with pride (and eager encouragement)

jamie convinces roy to grow his hair back out a bit again

jamie/roy propose to each other at the kebab shop or in amsterdam under the windmill

jamie chooses chelsea as the club he ultimately retires in as a tribute to roy, or spends some time there before finally finishing home at richmond

#royjamie #i love them i love them #wholesome content #i’m sure there’s more but this is what i got for now #feel free to leave more suggestions of yours #jamie tartt #roy kent #ted lasso #roy x jamie #jamie x roy #jamieroy #op

[thenightcallsme]

Dove | Simon "Ghost" Riley

A/N: Hello lovely people, I have a backlog of short stories written for things like Avatar: The Way of Water, MWII, Stranger Things, The Arcana, Outer Banks, and many more that I have never posted and keep to myself. I'm talking hundreds of pages worth of fluff, angst and eventual smut - you've got to get through some plot first, though. HOWEVER, if anyone likes my writing and wants to task me with stuff to write, like straight smut, I'm all ears. Anyway, if anyone is interested in reading stuff I could potentially post, here is a snippet for a little Call of Duty fic.

Synopsis: You're to play the materialistic wife of a rich, well-connected husband during an undercover mission. You're to-be husband is a temporary recruit of the 141, who is to supervise your every move. While getting ready, you have a surprising interaction with your Lieutenant, Ghost, who you swear has made it his mission to treat you like a stranger day after day. Until now.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Contains: pretty much nothing of importance, just Ghost being as unreadable as ever, causing reader to have their mind blown by the smallest of crumbs

• • • • •

I look in the mirror at the woman who is supposed to be Lyanna Winstead. She’s the partner of Dario Winstead, son of a wealthy businessman. Everything about Lyanna is a carbon copy of myself. Her smile, her hair, her figure, her voice. Only, she presents herself in a way I haven’t in a long time.

Gone is the tactical gear and camouflage colours. Instead, she wears the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. The outline of the dress is simple yet captivating to suits the old Hollywood theme. Silver cascades down her body, creating the illusion of a mercury waterfall. The sweetheart neckline and thin straps compliment her full breasts and soft arms. Adorning the bodice are glistening silver designs that remind me of old, swirling boarders on French mirrors. The designs fall away, melting into plain silver threads that fall to the floor and pool at her feet. The dress hugs her body like a second skin, only melting away at her knees. The silhouette fit her hourglass figure well.

The silver jewellery she wears is modest so as not to take away from the dress’s magnificence. On her neck is a dainty Vivienne Westwood necklace, the inner planet of the pendant a pearl. Matching dangling earrings hang from her lower lobe piercing. The rest of her ear piercings are small diamond studs and silver hoops. One wrist displays a thin diamond tennis bracelet and a Van Cleef one with emerald clovers. On the other is the only ode to myself: the evil eye bracelet I never take off. The thin silver chain and bejewelled eye thankfully blend into the rest of the accessories. Small rings cover her fingers, few in number and easily ignorable. The bands are thin and any jewels are small and clear. However, one stands out; a breathtaking sight on her left index finger.

Glittery diamonds cover the band, giving way to a large, circular moonstone. Rainbow shimmer comes to life in the milky stone when the light hits it just right. Separating the band and the centrepiece are two small flowers with diamond centres. Two separate rings sit beneath and below the main one, shaped in V’s to follow the curve. At each point are flowers similar the the others, with curved leaves flowing from the petals. All three are gold, contrasting against the silver to make a statement.

I’m not just looking back at Dario’s partner. I’m looking at his wife.

I’m Will’s wife. 

Fake wife, really. I nearly shake my head in wonder. I still look like myself, but everything about this makes me feel like I’m wearing a second skin. Lyanna’s skin. Every so often I stare at the ring in amazement. If anyone ever proposes to me, I would hope for nothing less than the magnificent that is this ring. All that adorns my body is courtesy of Will. Unbeknownst to me before this mission, he’s filthy rich, and a filthy rich man needs a filthy rich wife. All the designer jewellery, the dress, the shoes, and the engagement ring are authentic and top dollar.

After the last touch-ups of make-up, fragrances, and hair, I’m making my way to the courtyard. I’m to have one last briefing and run over of the plan before getting in Will’s blacked-out Corvette. I have to give it to him: he really knows how to pull off a lavish life with style.

Already am I wishing to rip off the damn stilettos on my feet. While I could live in the dress and jewellery, this is the one day a year I’m willing to wear heels.

The air is cool, the last golden light of day painting the courtyard and walls of Alejandro’s HQ in a luminescent glow. A low rumble fills the air from my 'husband’s car. Will leans against it, speaking with the 141. Ghost lingers back by the front door, arms folded and back leaning against a pillar. Weaving between his fingers with precision is a small dagger. His head turns at the sound of approaching heels.

“Was starting to think you were a no show,” he says gruffly.

I stop beside him to adjust my dress. It doesn’t really need adjust, but suddenly being subjected to his gaze makes me anxious. “Told you it would take a while. Gotta look the part.”

The way his eyes travel over my body almost makes me shrink away. Every curve is on full display. The tight bodice holds up my already full breasts, and somehow my waist-to-hip ratio is even more accentuated. Wearing my uniform doesn’t exactly hide my figure thanks to the tight shirts and cargo pants that aren’t exactly loose from my mid-thigh up. However, a lot of me is lost beneath the vests and belts.

“Stop...inspecting me, or whatever you're doing,” I mumble. “Makes me think I need to fix something.”

I begin taking the skirts in my hand as I survey my descent. It’s not too much, but the steps are steep enough to be an issue. The heels on my feet are no help.

Ghost shakes his head. “Don’t. You look…”

“Important?”

“Pretty.”

I stop in my tracks to look back at him, unsure if I heard him correctly. He doesn’t look away or seem embarrassed to have said so. Then again, when does he ever. No-nonsense and prideful in his emotionless character, Ghost is not one to regret his words. Everything he says is a calculated move. Compliments are certainly something to be calculated in a sense, but I don't think of it to be a compliment, even when a small part of me screams for more. I'm playing my part well; there'd be a problem if I wasn't looking pretty. A slow smile quirks at my lips, teasing in nature as I raise my brows. The teasing turns to surprise, however, when he offers me his arm.

“How chivalrous,” I quip as I lightly take his offered arm. Even the slightest contact sends thrills beneath my skin. “Careful, Lieutenant. I might start to think you actually like me.”

Ghost’s eyes train on the ground. At first, I wonder if he doesn’t want to meet my eyes, only then to realise he’s watching my footing. I barely catch a glimpse of his squint.

“I like you in one piece,” he corrects. “This job will be over the second you sprain your ankle on a flight of stairs.”

I hum. “Ahh, there it is.”

He looks up at me then. “There’s what?”

“Thinking about the job, as always.”

As always, I keep my tone light and teasing, but there's an accusing hint. A subtle jab I let slip that I pray goes unnoticed.

There's no room for emotions in this job, and though I've compromised that with the rest of the 141, Ghost is a difficult case. An impossible riddle, a mind-numbing equation with no real answer. Nothing about him should be likeable. He's painfully honest and dismissive when he bothers to speak, he's angry half the time, his attention is never lingering and his mind is an impenetrable fortress. It would make more sense to give in to Alejandro's shameless flirting or Gaz's sleazy grins. Only, it's Ghost that keeps me up at night. It's Ghost, who sends a pang through my chest when he reminds me any care is from pure investment in performance. I'm useful, nothing more.

I can count on one hand the number of times he's thrown me small morsels of care as if I were a stray dog whining and begging for food. Even then, I wouldn't have made it past three fingers. A greedy piece of me spins those memories into something that serves my desire. See, he's returning your interest, that hopeful voice purrs in my ear while feeding me botched versions of what really happened. I know better than to give in to the delusions. The ending of those memories is what sobers me, and it's no different now. I need you in shape for tomorrow. Keep your head in the game. I'm just making sure this isn't interrupting the job. He's always quick to redirect any concern from me to the job.

Maybe, just maybe...what if he was trying to save face? Does he not want to care?

Ghost remains silent for a moment. In consideration or because he doesn’t care to answer, I can’t tell. But when he does answer, his voice has my full attention. It’s low and rough, each syllable laced with something intoxicating. Something I've never heard before and never thought I would hear. Something I want to hear again and again.

“You have no idea what I think about, dove.”

Dove.

The response catches me so off guard I almost forget to take another step. We’ve reached the bottom of the steps, now. The second both my feet are on the flat expanse of the concrete driveway, he breaks away from our linked arms. There is no follow-up, no hint of a miscommunication, not even a look in my direction before he's gone from my side. All I can do is hesitantly trail behind him, lost in my thoughts.

Ghost has never given me a nickname before. Hell, he barely refers to me as anything other than my callsign. When I do hear my real name, it's never for good reasons.

The nickname that pours from his lips comes in a deep voice curled into a sensual tone, sounding like silk-covered marble, low and intended for my ears only. It's strangely intimate—something a lover would purr with lustful eyes and a seeking touch. Somehow it seems to invoke a phantom touch that glides across my skin. Gooseflesh puckers in its chilling wake. In the span of only a few seconds, I seem to experience every emotion humanly possible. Shock, surprise, a sickening, perverse enjoyment...and irritation that I must now join the rest of the team as if a mind-numbing heat was not boiling in the pits of my stomach

• • • • •

I'll get the formatting of posting these to be prettier btw I promise 🙏🙏 But anyway just interact with this or tell me directly if you want more.

#call of duty #modern warefare ii #mw2 #mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar #neteyam #neteyam avatar #neteyam sully #stranger things #eddie munson #the arcana #julian devorak #let me know if you want more #please I need an outlet for my writing problem but like I need validation as well lol

[havoc-bloom]

General Headcanons For (Most Of) The Dreams of An Insomniac Characters!!

(Excluding Lankmann cause I’ve already posted about him more than enough)

HC’s under the cut!!

Clyde:

- He’s so fucked up /pos

- Enjoys metal/rock, would listen to Mindless Self Indulgence

- If he tries hunting/chasing you I feel like you could distract him with candy

- Scary on the outside but an absolute sweetheart, especially with Winfrey (they’re boyfriends /hj)

- Prankster man, would place a banana peel on the ground and wait for you to comically slip and fall over it

- Eeeevil evil mischievous fellow

- About as straight as a curly fry

- Me, seeing Winfrey and Clyde: “oh my god, they were roommates :0”

- He has an evil laugh that he practiced in the mirror. Please tell him it’s cool and evil and maniacal.

Winfrey:

- Winfrey, my sweet baby boy. You poor poor thing.

- I CAN FIX HIM I SWEAR

- Winfixed AU gives me life (thanks Tigera)

- Plays violin extremely well, but can also play the piano

- If you ask him to play Megalovania he will bite you.

- Yes, he bites.

- His “theme song” may be Your Consenting Mind from Spooky’s Jumpscare Mansion according to Pastra, but damnit his anthem will always be Because Dreaming Costs Money, My Dear by Mitski in my heart and soul.

- Unironically used to not really acknowledge him because the other characters felt like they overshadowed him BUT THEN I MET @/tigerarainbowra-blog and my worldview has been CHANGED in the best way possible

- Me: (slaps the top of Winfrey’s head) “You won’t believe how much angst you can fit in here.”

- Really really heavy British accent, at least before he Went Feral™

- If the floor is being straight, then this man is crawling on the ceiling.

Klaus:

- What a douchebag /lh

- Reeks of birthday cake (he uses it to lure in kids to kill; I headcanon that Veldigun can change the way they smell and either completely nullify it or amplify it to make whoever they’re hunting more afraid or unaware of them) but also smells like blood and death.

- Absolutely vile, both in terms of personality and physical appearance

- Buried childhood trauma (he dares not talk abt it)

- Literally just needed some emotional help as a kid and if he got it he would’ve turned out fine, but somehow he got more fucked up with no thanks to the Lankmann Foundation.

- I can make anyone have sympathy for any character. Making people feel bad for Klaus is proof of that.

- Listens to Insane Clown Posse and Melanie Martinez

- He’s angry. He’s so, so angry, all the time. I wonder what put that anger in him.

Jack:

- GET HIM THERAPY JESUS FUCK

- I can fix him I promise

- We need to get him OUT of his toxic-ass relationship with Klaus, like right now. Let him be happy. Please.

- Looks up to Klaus even though he knows he’ll never be respected in the same way.

- He likes breakcore lmfao, also he listens to 100 gecs unironically /pos

- I like to think he makes kandi bracelets and he made matching ones for him and Klaus. Even tho Klaus is a bitch he still never takes off the bracelet, and neither does Jack.

- Sends the most cursed of memes at the most unholy times of night. You’ll get a notification from him at 6:06 AM and it’s just a radically blurred image of a cockroach with the caption “daniel.”

- Really truly just wants to continue making toys for kids.

- Has ate drywall and will do so again

Simon:

- Pleasant little farm boy

- He constantly smells like he just walked out of a barn, probably because he did. You get used to it (eventually).

- LOVES ANIMALS SO SO MUCH

- Animals > people, would rather chill with Flock for the day than actually socialize.

- Suppresses his Southern accent a lot but when he gets angry or super excited you’ll hear the Country™ in his voice.

- Kind of jarring hearing a Texas accent come out of a Canadian tbh

- I want his hand in marriage /hj

- autistic  /hj

- So far back into the closet he may as well be that one sweater from the 3rd grade you could never find again. Fruitier than Froot Loops but completely oblivious about it.

The Flock:

- BIRD MOMENT

- Yes, it can fly.

- Yes, it can purr.

- No, you cannot pet it.

- Does that thing snakes do where they curl up into little coils and rest their head on the top. Yeah that.

- Also does that thing hognose snakes do where they’ll play dead if they feel threatened, but instead they do it to lure in prey into thinking they’re an easy meal.

- Like a parrot it can mimic voices.

- Jack taught it to say curse words and now anytime someone gets near it’s just “BITCH”

- Will eat Cheez-Its out of your hand

Mortimer Gray:

- Oh, this poor motherfucker. This unfortunate fellow. He has been through so much.

- Overworked, underpaid artist.

- Serious burnout, but dammit if he’s getting paid he’ll get it done.

- Artblock 24/7, creatively exhausted. Just leave him alone for a while, please.

- Had a sparkledog phase, is now definitely a furry /hj

- Self esteem issues? He’s got all of them. Every single one.

- Anxiety to the fucking max

- I relate a few songs to him, namely Bag Of Bones by Mitski (burnout central haha) and Against The Kitchen Floor by Will Wood (honestly I was listening to it while drawing him and now it’s just kinda,, a thing I relate him with now.)

- Help me I kin him

#dreams of an insomniac #doai #headcanons #doai headcanons #clyde doai #winfrey doai #klaus doai #jack doai #simon doai #flock doai #mortimer gray doai

[blackquillkatana]

hello i saw your klavquill investigation post and ADORED IT i feel like you have opened up POSSIBILITIES ENDLESS. Do you have other klavquill ideas? :D

If you’re specifically talking about pre-UR-1 then of course I have more!

Simon used to gush about a little girl he babysat constantly. He always talked about wanting to bring her out to certain places but her mother was fairly strict when it came to her safety due to an auditory processing disorder. Klavier, as a teenager, didn’t think of it much until he noticed a little detail about the psychologist. Simon is a creature of habit, always wearing black and white. When Klavier had pestered him before about wearing something a little more colorful, Simon sheepishly admitted that he doesn’t look good in color, he always looked best in monotone. Klavier doesn’t believe that, but one day he notices a small handmade bracelet with colorful blue and yellow rubber bands on Simon’s left wrist. When Klavier points it out Simon suddenly gets very flustered, especially when Klavier points out it contradicts Simon’s statements about color. Simon responds with saying that he would never ever take off the bracelet and to keep quiet about it, especially at work, as he hides it up his sleeve.

There’s an idea where Klavier is tagging along with Simon’s investigation cause he’s so cool. And Simon realizes, too late, that this is an actual dangerous thing Klavier is now involved in. Since he doesn’t want to freak out the young prosecutor he pretends that everything is fine but behind Klavier’s back, Simon manifests the scary demon that runs in his family. Using his eyes as piercing tools to keep the guilty back in the corner and his words to keep them tangled until help can arrive. Klavier isn’t dumb, he realizes Simon’s change in behavior when he pretends to be distracted. But he refuses to leave. He knows he can help. And he so desperately wants to show off to his older brother, to maybe get the same praise Simon always gives him.

Now, if it’s post-Ur-1, I have plenty of thought for them as well.

Klavier doesn’t make any new music for a while, but it does help his head think. After testing some new cords he asks Simon to listen to a demo and to give his suggestions. Simon agrees and Klavier strums and sings the work in progress song until he’s rudely interrupted by a loud snore. Looking over, Klavier realizes that Simon fell right asleep. That’s not exactly normal, Simon usually complains about his insomnia and how hard it is for him to sleep. Even if he does fall asleep at work, it’s usually a very slow and painful road of Simon nodding off and jolting back awake. Klavier gently shakes Simon’s shoulders and Simon is very clearly embarrassed about falling asleep. Klavier tries again with his song and once again, Simon conks out almost immediately. Klavier takes it to mean that Simon loved the peace in the melody so much that his body felt comfortable enough to fall into slumber. Now Klavier uses Simon’s sleepiness to see how good his demos are, to the protest of the samurai himself.

As we all know, Miles Edgeworth has not known any peace since Klavier found it his main mission to get Simon to become his BFF. The matching friendship bracelets Klaveir got custom made didn’t work but Klavier did find out from a very reliable source (Apollo) that Simon loves pranks (Apollo did not say that, he said that Simon was terrible for his mental health) and the two of them have not let the office know peace since. It’s mostly lighthearted bullying towards the other, harmless dares to confuse their coworkers, or even something as simple as moving everything in the break room a centimeter to the left.

Vongole gets to live with Klavier because he deserves her. Unfortunately for Klavier, Vongole has a new favorite best friend and that’s Simon Blackquill. Simon can scoop her up and hold her like a puppy even though she’s a big dumb stupid friendly dog (affectionate). She’s very well behaved but she has decided that Simon gets “run and jump at” rights cause Simon will always catch the good girl Vongole. Also she loves wrestling with Simon, even if she can be a dramatic baby at times. Klavier is a little jealous at first but loves how Vongole has boosted her happiness and in turn it has even made Simon smile. Sure it’s still a scary toothy smile but it’s genuinely happy.

#I honestly love talking about them so much #they are very special to me and they would cause the greatest ace attorney game known to date if they worked together in court #anon ask #simon blackquill #klavier gavin #ace attorney #simon and klavier

[revoutionsingingintherain]

Alec and bracelets

idk why, but i can imagine Alec wearing bracelets in his non-dominant hand all the time. Like, he never buys them. They are given to him by people who are important to him, and he chooses to wear them and never take them off.

Robert and Maryse probably won't like them at first, because "Honestly, Alec, it's a girly piece of jewelry! You're a man!" but Alec won't care, because people gave it to him because he meant something to them.

For a pre-teen or a teen Alec, he was always in the shadows of Jace, and he did get used to it, but knowing that his family or friends thought of him when they made or bought their bracelets, made young Alec feel like he mattered to someone.

His first bracelet was given to him when he was seven, by a five year old Izzy. It would be mismatched colors, but strong enough to not break unless sliced by a blade.

"Alec! I made you something!"

"What is it, Izzy?"

She took his hand and slid a mismatched colored bracelet onto his wrist. Alec stared in amazement, a little teary eyed at the thought of his five year old sister making him something.

"It's a sibling bracelet! See!"

"A - a sibling bracelet?"

"Yeah! It's a bond that means that we will never leave each other and always love each other!"

Alec wrapped his younger sister in his arms. He was not used to show a lot of physical affection to anyone. His parents had taught him that it made him look weak, and so, he avoided showing any sort of emotion. But, his sister had made him something, and he was not going to not show his sister that he appreciated it.

"Thank you, Izzy."

His second bracelet was given to him by Jace.

The boys were sitting on Izzy's bed. Isabelle had had a nightmare, and Jace and Alec had promised her to stay with her. Izzy never asked for help. She believed that it made her look like she was not strong enough. But, she knew she could always rely on her brothers.

Jace and Alec were bored. Jace had started messing around with some bands and threads that Izzy had. Alec had stayed quiet, and occasionally closed his eyes, listening to Izzy's breaths, and Jace's irritated sigh, and the creaking of the wood.

"Alec?"

Alec opened his eyes and looked at Jace. Jace avoided looking at Alec in the eye, and for the first time since Alec had met him, Jace looked shy and insecure.

"Yeah?"

"I made you something."

Jace handed him a bracelet made of black and gold threads, woven together. Alec understood that the black represented him because of his hair color, and the gold represented Jace, because of his hair color.

"I just noticed that you wear a bracelet, and Izzy told me that she made it for you when you were young. I just thought, that this could show that you will always be friend and my brother. And I hope that one day, we can be parabatai. I mean, you're the first person who doesn't eat up all the bullshit that I say and -"

"Jace. I like it. Thank you."

The smile that Jace had given Alec that night, had been the widest and most genuine smile he had ever seen on the boy's face.

Max had given him a bracelet before he left for Academy. Alec had been surprised, but forever grateful to have something that his little brother had given him.

"Alec?"

"Yeah?"

Alec was gearing up for a mission, but paused, when his brother had called for him. Wordlessly, Max handed him a bracelet made with a blue that matched their eyes, and a silver that just looked so pure with the blue.

"This is for you. I know that everyone thinks that Jace is my favorite brother, but he's not. Jace has a lot of stories to tell, and is more interesting. But, Alec, you've always been my favorite brother."

Alec had slid the bracelet along with Izzy's and Jace's, and choked out a "thank you". His brother had nodded, and then, ran out in search for his father, or maybe Izzy.

Max's words replayed in his head. You've always been my favorite brother.

It was a few weeks after Clary had come back from the Alternate Dimension, when he got his next bracelet.

"Hey, Alec?"

Alec looked up from his documents, "Yeah?"

Hesitantly, Clary moved forward, and kept a bracelet on his table. The bracelet had threads that were woven in an intricate pattern. It had six colors of thread on them, and he knew it formed the Pride Flag colors. Magnus had introduced him to the LGBTQ+ community.

"The Alec that I met in the Alternate Dimension was openly gay. And everyone around him accepted him for who he was. He was really confident and comfortable. He was happier, Alec."

Alec stared back without a word.

"He was wearing a bracelet like that. I drew it from my memory, and pulled it out, like with the Mortal Cup. I hope that one day, you'll be as happy as that Alec."

Alec stood from his chair, and wrapped Clary in an awkward hug. He had not realized how much it would mean to him to hear that there was a universe out there, where he was accepted for his sexuality and wasn't forced to change himself, until Clary told him.

"Thank you."

Clary smiled and nodded at him, before she turned and left the office. Alec stared at the bracelet for a few seconds, before he slipped it on his wrist, behind Max's and smiled softly at the colors.

Magnus had gotten him one too. It was a few months after Alec had gifted him the omamori charm, that Magnus carried with him everywhere.

Magnus had been so nervous. He did not understand why. This was Alexander! His boyfriend, Alexander!

"Alexander?"

"Hmm?"

"I got you something."

"Is it my birthday?"

"No. I just saw something and I thought of you and I bought it."

"What is it?"

"It's a bracelet. I was with a client today, and he was making these, and it just reminded me of you. So, I asked him if he would make one in Warlock blue and Shadowhunter gold."

Alec took it in his hand delicately, and stared at it.

"He said that he puts these charms or something, that was supposed to bring protection and good fate. You know, a little like the omamori charm that you gave me. And I thought that you could get a little more protection, because I mean, you kill demons for a living, and -"

Alec kissed him. He didn't know how else to shut him up, and show how much he appreciated the gesture at the same time. So, he kissed Magnus, pouring all of his emotions into it, begging Magnus wordlessly to know how thankful he was.

"So, I take it, you liked it?" Magnus asked, when they pulled back. Alec laughed.

Simon had given him a bracelet before Asmodeus took away his memories.

Alec was supporting Magnus, when Simon approached him. Asmodeus was waiting for Simon, ready to take away his memories.

Simon took off the bracelet he wore. His father had given it to him when he was a child. It had three brown threads on it, and the center thread had a silver arrow on it.

Simon handed it to Alec, and said, "My father gave it to me when I was a child. I know that I won't have any memory of any of you, but I know that I will remember that bracelet. If I ever see you guys again, at least, I'll know that I knew you, and that your family - this family - and you were someone important to me. Thank you, Alec."

Izzy and Clary were sobbing behind them. Alec was stunned. Simon and him were never close, but they had a mutual respect for each other.

Asmodeus took Simon away, and the rest of them returned to New York. Alec had added the bracelet to the collection he had on his wrist. Clary had explained to him, that Simon's father had made it for Simon at a fair, and had told him that as long as Simon wore it, his father would always be with him.

Alec had cried that night. He hated to admit it, but he missed the nerd.

It was a few years later when Alec got his next bracelet. Magnus and Alec had adopted their second son, Rafael. It had taken some time for him to warm up to Alec and Magnus.

"Daddy?"

Alec looked up from his work. Rafael was sitting on the couch beside him. He looked at Alec with wide, innocent eyes.

"Yes, Rafe?"

Rafael pulled out a bracelet from his pocket. Alec and Magnus knew what it was. It was the only thing that Rafael had from his biological family. It was a single thread, with one bead on it.

"My real daddy used to wear this. But, now, you're my daddy. So, I want you to wear it."

Alec held out his hand, and Rafael tied it around his wrist, behind all the thin bracelets he wore. When he was done, Alec ruffled his son's hair, and smiled at him. Rafael smiled back, and leaned against his father.

His younger son, Max, had made one for Alec, like Izzy, Jace, and Max had.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"

Alec laughed, and picked up his three year old son in his arms, throwing him in the arm. Max giggled loudly, and Magnus and Rafael followed Max to where he was greeting Alec at the door.

"Hi, Max! How was your day?"

"I made you something, Daddy!"

"Really? What is it?"

Max held a small black thread with colorful, glittery beads on them. He put it against Alec's neck, and said, "I made you a necklace, Daddy! Like, Bapak has!"

"But, Max! This is so small for my neck! Why don't you tie it around my wrist? With the other ones that I have?"

Max pouted for a moment, before nodded. Alec held out his wrist, and Max tried to tie it around his wrist. Magnus, magically, tied the thread around Alec's wrist. Max beamed at his father, who beamed back at him.

Alec put his son down, and greeted the rest of his family.

But, he won't wear all of them all the time. There were too many of them, and after he would become Consul, he would have to look professional. Eight bracelets won't make him look professional, and he knew that.

So, he would ask Magnus to charm them, that if he ever lost one of them, they would magically return to his pocket.

He would wear the bracelet that Magnus gave him all the time. The others, he would tie them together, and attach it to his set of keys or slide them on his belt, so that they were hidden by his blazer (formal jacket).

Eventually, when he would become an uncle, or a grandfather, he got more and more of them. He would tell anyone who asked how he got the bracelets he had, and who gave it to him. All the little kids would listen to him, with wide eyes and fascination.

And when Alec would die, Magnus would made sure that Alec was wearing all of his bracelets, laughing through teary eyes as he recalled the stories of how he got the ones from his siblings or from Clary, or Simon. Rafael and Max would stand with their Bapak, and would cry with him at the amount of bracelets Alec had gotten from his family, and friends, and nephews and nieces, and grandchildren.

Anyways, it was just an idea that I liked a lot! Thanks for reading this!

#alec lightwood #alexander lightwood #magnus x alec #magnus bane #jace herondale #isabelle lightwood #izzy #simon lewis #simon lovelace #clary fray #alec and clary #clary fairchild #max lightwood bane #rafael lightwood bane #max lightwood #the mortal instruments #shadowhunters #warlocks #malec #sizzy #clace

[exn0bisstudios]

Questions from the Discord

(( feel like joining the fun? click here to join our server! ))

What would be the RO’s ideal gift(s) from the Seer?

Mira's ideal gift from a unromanced Seer would be having a Bestie Day together where they can just spend time enjoying each other's company or doing any kind of joint hobbies they may have. Mira would especially be tickled if Seer was willing to spar with them a little bit. Mostly, though, it's about just having some good quality time without any worries or responsibilities hanging over their heads for once.

From a romanced Seer, Mira's ideal gift is pretty similar, but with more focus on letting Mira spoil them without complaint. Mira genuinely enjoys taking care of Seer and pampering them, so being allowed to do so without Seer worrying about giving back or something would be lovely. ....They would still be tickled if Seer agreed to spar with them, though.

Nova's ideal gift from an unromanced Seer would basically be the equivalent of friendship bracelets. Basically just some small accessory (doesn't matter how cheap or tacky honestly) that Seer has the matching pair to and that they can both wear. Definitely bonus points if Seer attempted to hand-make (or commission) something. Nova will love it even if it's ugly tbh.

From a romanced Seer, Nova's ideal gift would be an honest love letter. Doesn't need to be flowery or eloquent, but just having how Seer feels about them, in their own words and writing, would mean a great deal to Nova. They'd likely keep the letter on their person at all times, tucked safely into the hidden pocket inside their robes, over their heart.

Stella's ideal gift from an unromanced Seer would be, unsurprisingly, books! Especially meaningful if Seer went out of their way to find a book Stella's been after forever, or a new installment from a series or author they like or something.

From a romanced Seer, Stella's ideal gift would be giving them a pampered day where they can just lounge around and read, and Seer will take care of them. Doesn't have to be anything super fancy like spa day or something (though they wouldn't say no to a massage), but just letting them have a day where they can quietly luxuriate in their company and indulge in their favorite hobbies.

Désiré's ideal gift from an unromanced Seer is probably helping him out with his daily tasks and responsibilities. Dez never complains, but running an entire community of people & families is a lot of work, and sometimes it's nice to have help. Especially for the more mundane stuff, like balancing the books or taking inventory and stuff. Dez isn't particularly good a asking for help, so if Seer just kinda went 'today I am assisting whether you like it or not!' he'd really appreciate it.

For a romanced Seer, Dez's ideal gift would be... pretty much anything that allowed them to be comfortably physically close with each other (as in non-sexual physical intimacy). Touch is so extremely important to Dez, both emotionally and just as a part of his daily life, so he would appreciate being allowed to indulge in cuddling or even just holding hands or something

Vittore Simone's ideal gift from an unromanced Seer would be them arranging an actual day off for him and then forcing him to actually take it by spending time with him doing fun things, not work things. We know that V uses working as a way to self medicate, but another big reason he never takes time off is because he doesn't want to saddle anyone else with the weight of his responsibilities even temporarily. So if Seer conspired with V's staff to make arrangements for his responsibilities to be handled for the day, that's one big hurdle defeated. Then, filling V's day with quality time and fun stuff not only helps him relax and rest, but fills V's need to keep busy. He's be extremely grateful and probably get some of the best sleep of his life that night lol.

For a romanced Seer, V's ideal gift would be sitting for an informal portrait. Nothing big or requiring much fanfare, but some small portrait that V can carry with him on his business trips (think like a wallet photo). Extreme super bonus points if Seer also writes a mini love note to go along with it.

Andrai's ideal gift from an unromanced Seer would be going on a hike with him, or something else suitably immersed in nature, especially if Seer is usually not the type to like to go do nature-ie stuff. Ideally, Andrai would love if Seer agreed to go for a little weekend camping trip with him in Ongi specifically, since those are Andrai's stomping grounds. He'd enjoy being able to show Seer his favorite places in the forest, and all the beautiful and magical things about it that most non-native-elves don't even know exist. He'd especially love it if Seer asked questions about things they encounter or otherwise was engaged in the trek, because he'd enjoy answering their questions or explaining anything regarding living off nature. He knows it's not for everyone, but the forest is his home, so it would be deeply meaningful to him to get to share it with someone important to him.

For a romanced Seer, Andrai's ideal gift would be to agree to join him on a weekend visit to his family. He is all too aware of how overwhelming his family is, so he gets nervous about them essentially scaring people off, so he usually... limits exposure, if you will. But his family is so, so important to him, so it would mean the world to him if Seer put in the effort to get to know them despite their eccentricities. He doesn't expect Seer to become best of friends with the whole group of them or anything (though he'd be so happy if Seer did find friendship with some of them), but just the effort put forward on Seer's part to have some kind of relationship would have him over the moon.

Vzridmi's ideal gift from an unromanced Seer would be, similar to Mira, having a Bestie Day! She would want to go shopping and go out to eat and just do indulgent fun stuff, especially the more superfluous luxuries they don't normally get to indulge in (like spa day!). She'd just enjoy the chance to spend the day chatting, laughing, and having fun with someone important to her; especially because she knows she sometimes struggles to leave research mode, so being forced to get her nose out of her books and actually enjoy some friend time would be lovely.

For a romanced Seer, Mimi's ideal gift would be a combo of relaxation time and Seer agreeing to let her give them a tour of her lab. Mimi's research and pursuits are derisive at best and she regularly faces a lot of backlash and cruelty from the academic & scientific communities, if they don't outright treat her like a hack or like she's insane. So being allowed to just ramble about her work and the things she's so excited about, especially if Seer is engaged in the conversation and asks questions and such, would be extremely meaningful to her (doubly so if she knows science and research aren't really Seer's cup of tea). She'd especially love if Seer agreed to do a fun little experiment with her; nothing serious, think middle school lab level stuff. Just something small they can do for fun together. Then, after the lab tour, going out to eat and having a relaxing evening together would be the perfect end of the day.

#i am generally much more active on discord than on tumblr #since it's easier for me #so i tend to get to discord questions first #but i felt bad that the blog wasn't getting any attention so i'm going to start cross-posting like this #TTO: Main Tag #TTO: Answers #TTO: RO Asks #Mira Twilight #Nova Dreamreaver #Stella #Désiré Desrosiers #Vittore Simone Armati #Andrai Freestrider #Vzridmi Ri'kho've #long post

[monsoonblooms12]

Priyotomo (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: The Last Day at Amazon and Ethan's first day back at Boston from Ethan and Pooja's POV

Priyotom(o/a): (Bengali) Dearest, Most Beloved

A/N: Time for another hopeless attempt at poetry!! Anyway, this is my take on Dr Ethan Ramsey running to the Amazons. I really hope that this is not absolute crap and makes so sense🧡

Thank you so much to Simone for Pre-reading! Love you Gurl🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤎

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 1.8K

Rating: General

Category: Angst

Warnings: (Very Brief) Mentions of blood, fainting and drinking

Title Inspo: Priyotomo Hai - Rabindra Sangeet (Rabindranath Tagore's composition)

OTHER WORKS

Pooja

16 years.

The date was displayed with vivid eloquence by the woody beige cubes that adorned the desk, posing a match with the minimalism of the room.

It was a preposterous fact.

Glassy ambers switched perspective in a progressive motion, and they interpreted the solitary shine of the table lamp on the transparent surface.

Four glowing smiles, two tiny toddlers sat on their parents' lap.

It does not feel surreal. Neither a tale of a bygone era.

It was not her past. It was her present, her life's gears were turned by this very photograph.

Her bracelet adorned hand held it close to her heart, which beat in a meteoric rhythm.

The cacophonous tunes from the fiesta painfully pierced through her reverie, cajoling her to close the mahogany doors that lead to her cocoon.

The flamboyant kantha stitched lehenga proved to be burdensome to carry.

With ponderous steps, Pooja settled down on the couch, pulling her feet to herself.

She wanted to be ten again. Not eleven.

Terminate the time when she could be that blithe girl, rolling dices with her mother.

But there was a specific reason why the reminisces came back stronger than any usual day.

Somewhere in the remote land, in a cholera-stricken district, a summery blue-eyed man spent his days in seclusion.

And occupied the chambers of her cerebral hemispheres.

What was the pain of being left alone with only emotions as a companion without as much as a message?

She wiped her cheek, only to discover the black of her eyeliner now adorning her fingers.

She had been crying.

When? She could not feel the tears that left smokey meanders on the map of her face.

The heartbreak and the circumstances had numbed her feelings. All she wanted was an embrace.

Why did his peach lips mark her as his if this was the end in sight?

She refused to accept it. The end.

She placed her foot down, not feeling the pierce of a pin fallen down against her skin.

Drops of scarlet marked her track as she retouched the smear of her face.

Time to go and socialize.

Ethan

Of everything to look at in the shiny cellular, his eyes now traced the pristine form of the lady who now inhabited every one of his senses.

The comely picture made her look ravishing and the adamant neurons started pulling out manila folders with her memories kept in them.

No. He cannot.

The fiery golden liquid disappeared faster than it had been poured.

He had found himself on the crossroad of whether to type out the words that played in a loop in his mind or not.

I miss you!

He always chose the latter.

He had already given her a false hope.

Of a future of them.

He did not want to do it again.

Only now he realizes that it was a hope he had given himself as well when he first took that sacred form of hers into his arms.

And that he ran away. Like a coward.

Ethan Ramsey the coward.

Who could not fight for them.

Who could not fight for her.

Who could not fight for Lo-

No.

He did not let the word complete. The very thought was dangerous.

Throwing the classy cylinder he had been holding with a deathly grip, he poured the last bit of that glass bottle in him.

And walked over hurriedly, the tiny glass pieces stabbing him, to again begin the reset.

One which would never complete.

Next Day

Pooja

The ethereal moon spread out the beams of serenity all over the ceremonious night.

It was a lively affair. Merrymaking and cultural programs went on, as she stood amidst the cheery atmosphere with a sombre expression.

In front of Pooja, was the masterfully sculpted idol of the Mother Goddess, standing majestically as the centrepiece of the celebration. She was the epitome of power, the Mahisasura Mardini.

The recollections of an unforgettable past come as paper-planes drifting in a gentle air, carrying the playfulness, a child's happy smiles. A time when her mother would take Pooja to the mythological lands through her words, and they would get lost like flying butterflies in fairytale land.

The tunes of Bengali music float in the gentle air, and she hums along. The first song her mom had taught her, also for a Durga Puja function. Her mom was deeply rooted in all of them, the culture of Bengal kept alive by her. She was the reason why Pooja could become a part of a community she takes pride in.

Even now, so many years later, things don't change. They hold on to these roots like they are holding onto their life, not letting them disappear.

It feels like holding onto her, keeping her alive.

Recreating a small piece of her favourite Kolkata in Bhopal.

But the aura of calm hid like the clouds covering the sun's shine. The piercing pain of heartbreak came back, the wound untreated.

The soft sand of her life's hourglass prickles, solitary grains floating to join their siblings. The wish of them defying gravity and going back to bring the 10th year of her life had never been so strong as it was now.

The heavy jewellery tugged at her ears, letting her know their presence and the styled hair gave her a throbbing headache.

Her tiredness and exhaustion, now fuelling back in her veins refusing to let her bring back that sense of peace she experienced moments ago.

Around her people wore phoney smiles. All they cared about was unimportant Tommy rot. Not a single one of them stepped back from criticizing the others behind their backs.

It was a saga of inflated egos, of constant competition, to make the next person look inferior.

She was tired.

Of people running away, Of abandonment, Of hopes getting dashed.

Why did his thoughts keep coming back? After all, he did make it clear, didn't he?

But did he really succeed? Did his efforts head? Did his heart finally give in to his relentless demand?

Did he really forget her?

All the messages that lay not replied, unheard voicemails, she was sure he had.

But that colour of his he left on her?

The piece of his heart that was protected by her?

Would he be able to forget them?

An earthen lamp flickered in front of her, bud she did no rush to save it.

If it goes out, then let it.

Just like the never-ending load shedding of her life.

But it didn't.

It was a wish, a hope that kept it alive.

The sweet nothings he had whispered to her, the gentle kisses he lined on her forehead.

They had promised her forever.

His being enveloped her, she doubted if it would ever break.

The hope of him & her flickers every now and then, just like the earthen lamp.

But did it go off?

It couldn't.

Because there was no wind strong enough to extinguish it.

The possibility of him and her.

The realization and a blackness hit her at the same time.

And as she fell, her mind held on to only it.

The possibility of him and her.

Ethan

If the Great Thinkers from BCs before were asked if going to a beer garden after spending 2 months in another continent and a 13hr long flight was a sensible thing to do, they would have watched the questioner in bewilderment.

And he agreed. He was not being sensible, not even 1%.

The urge to see her, to gaze at her moonly face, to know that she okay.

It had never been so strong. He felt his mind would give up on him if he could not locate her today.

Not that he had stopped the forgetting process, absolutely not.

It was just a solace, a bandage to the scars he had given himself.

That she would be okay even if he was not there with her.

Focus fixed on keeping his gaze as unhurried as possible, he looked around, putting the well-trained ears and eyes to work.

And then he saw them.

All her friends clustered at a table, merrily clinking beer bottles and sharing happy glances. His eyes pierced into the scene, but he could not locate her.

A step or two brought him close, the desperateness making his heart go crazy.

But the conclusion shattered every bit of sense and calm, dissipated the hope of getting to see here.

She was not here.

His face fell like someone who had lost the thing they hold the closest to their heart.

She, really, was not here.

He really wanted to ask the residents sitting at the table in question, to get some, any, news on her.

But his rational mind still existed, and it was the only thing that stopped him from going haywire.

She was not here.

He took out the notorious cuboid chiming in his pocket, full of satirical typed phrases his cerebrum refused to decrypt.

But it was adamant to get his attention.

A scoff escaped like a habit.

As if anyone could be powerful enough to take his attention away from her.

He was caught in a maze of her memories, his time in the continent thousands of kilometres away and the ghoul of feelings chasing him deeper into it, making him yearn for her solace, the moistness of a forlorn kiss on his forehead, the gentle swipe of a thumb to take his tears away.

His way was lost in there, every turn making him end up more challenged. But even if he did not want to, he had to find the way out.

His soul was like a thorn who could only hurt the tender flower that she was.

What he did not realize was that she was a rose, her being was amidst thorns.

She had the power to beautify them.

The click of the turn-on sound, brought him back to the piece of work his fingers were creating on the light emanating screen.

And in seconds that passed too fast, he saw his heart's treasure,

She was here.

Not in footsteps & whispers.

She was here.

Not in touches and kisses.

She was here.

Not in muscle and bone.

But in labyrinths of his heart, in filmstrips of his memory, in sensations that made him go wild,

She was here.

(With him forever, she was not the one to leave his side)

PS: I HC the end of 1st year of their residency being in Sept-Oct, which is the time of Durga Puja in India. And since Poo is half Bengali, and she never misses any tradition involving her mom's side of the fam, so she would not have been at Boston then. (Or take it as an excuse to increase angst potential) Anyway, Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you I feel like my brain has short-circuited and I forgot someone):

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#pixelberry choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #open heart #choices stories we play #choices #choices open heart #choices oh #my fanfics✒ #ethan x pooja #ethan x mc #open heart ethan #ethan ramsey #pooja sharma #open heart mc #open heart fanfiction #open heart second year #ohsy #oph choices #choices oph #cfwc fics of the week #fics of the week #choices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #oh ethan #oh mc #pixelberry #pixelberry studios

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part eleven ~ wank material and how to get canceled ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight) (part nine) (part ten) (part eleven)

A/N: Back at it again. Thank you for 160 followers; do enjoy and take care of yourself! Send a Message/Ask to make my day!

Summary: Alex screws up a lot. 

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Lots of Language. Implied Domestic Abuse. Heavy Self-Deprecation. 

Word Count: 2.9k    BLUE TEXT = FLASHBACK

It is a small world. Or at least that is how the saying goes. For example: I happened to have dog-walked for a woman who turns out to be your aunt? Huh, small world.

The world is meant to be small, with everyone just six degrees of separation from one another. 

A lot can happen between six degrees – an ice cube melts,  a steak is cooked well done instead of medium,  a person dies of an unexplained fever.

Sometimes Alex’s world did feel small, constrictingly small like it was caving in on him. But more often than not, it was he who felt small and the world a vast sea – an endless horizon. And he was stranded on a raft in the middle of it. Splashing along with the waves, going wherever the wind wished to take him. Wondering if he would ever be found (if anyone was even searching for him) or if he was destined to drown in the deep dark waters. 

Alex shook his head, and he was back in the present moment. Sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Gripping a controller with his clammy hands, playing LEGO Star Wars with George. Although their characters appeared to be working together in perfect sync, Alex was not actually focusing on the screen. His eyes were, but his mind drifted like that raft on the sea, drifted to earlier that morning.

It rained briefly; when the early morning hours came, everything outside smelled of wet, and the scent seeped in through cracks in the sealing around the windows.

Y/N stirred in Alex’s arms, squirmed out of his gentle hold, and sat up. Shining through the glass door of the balcony was the pale blue of the moon illuminating her features – a pastel recolouring which further softened the curves and lines of her face.

Her unadjusted eyes appeared confused at her surroundings as she looked around. Planting her hands flat on the cushion on either side of her lap exposed her bruised forearm. Each circular mark was darker than it had been when she fell asleep. Alex noticed some quarter or half of the beads on her bracelet matched those bruises in colour – he was not sure how to feel about that.

A shy closed-mouth smile took Y/N’s lips as her eyes landed on Alex. If she were concerned about his contemplative somewhat doleful expression, she hid it well. “You’re warm.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked. It was dizzying, swimming in the lovesick haze of such an odd compliment

“Like sleeping on one of those blankets, you have to plug in – softer though.” 

“Probably more lippy as well.”

“I think that’s fair,” her words fizzled out with a giggle.

Pupils dilated in the dim lighting; Alex had never more resembled the pleading puppy eyes emoji. High on that feeling, he got whenever Y/N looked deep into the depths of him. Like the last piece of his puzzling life was being set into place. Like it was them. Always meant to be them. Together.

He just wished he dared to speak more.

“Jump! What are you doing?” George burst out, bringing Alex back for a moment.

“Sorry.” He had felt it all over again – how anxious he was to speak; how dead his tongue was in his mouth. As if every moment with Y/N was it for him. His one shot. And if he did not say the right thing or if his voice wavered, then it would be over for him. Finished.

Or maybe he would not have to speak at all, and he would lose his chance before he even opened his mouth. His big mouth – his friends would add, and in truth, so would he.

George cleared his throat and asked, “Did you remember to message Simon about the party?”

“Yeah, yesterday. And Tobi got back to me, said he’s coming.”

“Would’ve been easier to have done a group message for them.”

Sighing a short but exhausted sounding sigh, Alex agreed, “Maybe.”

“And Sammy’s coming?” George looked over for a split-second to see his flatmate nod his head; a tight smile plastered on his face. “Good.”

Another moment of comfortable calm washed over Alex and Y/N when something in Y/N’s gaze pulled back – became hesitant – and moved down to her hands. She picked up a crumpled deliveroo receipt from off the coffee table and began fidgeting with it. “If you—” 

Y/N stopped as her phone lit up; the notification was silent, but the light of the screen was visible through the pocket of her jeans. While pulling it out, she unmuted it to an eruption of DING. DING. DING. There were a lot of missed calls and texts, enough that she had to scroll twice up to see them all.

All Alex could read from his spot on the sofa (without wanting to appear as if he was reading over Y/N’s shoulder) was a text message in all caps reading ANSWER ME.

Thumbs hovered above the phone, not typing nor even moving to unlock to the home screen. Her back straightened, and her posture tensed. Eyes not leaving the screen, she said, “It’s Sam. I need to go.”

“That’s all Sammy? It’s a tad overkill, don’t you think?”

“No, he’s just worried.” Y/N took to her feet. Stepping around the coffee table, she beelined to where she left her shoes near the front door. “I don’t—I should have been checking in.”

Alex stood and followed. “Is he that upset? Genuinely?”

She flicked her hand dismissively before using it to pull on her shoes. Keeping her eyes down. “Of course not. It’s just frustrating when he can’t reach me is all.”

“Still…it’s a bit much.”

“And what? You’ve never been frustrated like that with someone?”

“No,” his projection of the word a startling thundercrack in the otherwise civil conversation.

It had not been confidence, though. Not real confidence. Alex had been scared, and he did not like being scared nor admitting to being scared, but he had been.  Frightened because he did not know how to handle the situation.  Terrified that he might have been losing himself. 

Liking Y/N made him nervous; made him protective. And he could not control it.

Y/N looked to him, and he would have to have been blind to not see the bewilderment that came to her eyes at his change in tone. Alex was just so sick and tired of allowing himself and his concerns to be played off. Always feeling like he was screaming to be heard, but no one cared to listen.  

He spoke stern and definite, “No. I’ve never been so agitated with someone that I screamed at them for a near hour. It’s not normal. I’ve certainly, never punched through—” 

DING. DING. Before he could finish, Y/N dropped her head to her phone.

Alex sighed, exhausted, and asked, “He’s still going, isn’t he?”

“Like I said,” Y/N looked up, and coming back into the conversation as if nothing happened, reasoned in a gentle – borderline condescending – tone, “he’s worried about me.”

“No, he’s not. If he were worried, wouldn’t he have gone looking for you?”

“How do you know he didn’t?”

“Where else would you have gone, but here? Does he let you have other friends?”

Taking a step from him, Y/N shook her head like she could shake herself awake and out of the situation – like it was a dream. She asked, “Where is this coming from?”

“Am I wrong? Red?” he didn’t mean it to come out overly harsh; it had. Alex’s eyes begged for the slightest amount of understanding.

“I think I should go.” Contradicting the sharpness that came into her words were the tears that sprung to her eyes, building up, daring to fall. Y/N pushed right through Alex (not unlike her previous shoulder-check) towards the front door with a sudden heaviness in her steps. 

Fuck. Think of something. 

She’s leaving think of something. 

Say something.

Anything!

“Are you still coming to the party Saturday?” Not that.

Stopping halfway out the door, Y/N whipped around with annoyance and anger burning in her eyes. “You’re serious? Is that all you care about? Padding your guest list?”

“No,” the whispered words fell graceless from his lips, “I care about you.”

“Don’t.” Y/N looked as if she were a second away from spitting in his face. “It was a mistake coming here. You can’t just say whatever shit you want, whenever you want. I’m sorry if you think I’ve been leading you on, but Sam is my boyfriend, alright? I love him.”

That was it. Alex did not know that would be it. He did not even know he was that close to the fucking edge. But he had been. And that? That was it. He wanted so bad to be a safe space for Y/N and to not start an argument or come off as if he were attacking her, but that was it.

“And does he love you?” Alex asked with a cruel scoff.

“Beg pardon?”

“Did he love you when he gave you that?” He pointed to her forearm – the five circular bruises.

“Fuck you, Alex.” Her lip curled into a snarl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She left. It was 2:01am.

It lingered in his head – the realization he came to when he was stood in the dark staring at his front door too confused to be shocked and too shocked to process the hurt. He lost; he was a loser. It was not a traditional emotion, but Alex felt it burning within even as he sat on the sofa with George.

Idiot. Since their first meeting, Alex dreamed and needed and worked so hard to be with Y/N, and he lost her. Gambled it all and lost. Useless. Weak. His thoughts took on their own intentions. Beginning to feel foreign as if coming from the outside and no longer sounding like him. 

Spiraling. Alex was spiraling. He did not – could not – understand how he could ruin everything life ever offered, bin the good opportunities, and fail all the people important to him. 

All at once, an intense feeling bubbled up from deep in his gut, perhaps the most classically masculine feeling he ever felt. Alex wanted to fight. Angry. Pained. He wanted nothing more than to scream out his voice and rid himself of the scorching torrent of blood that rushed through him, cauterizing his veins. Alex wanted to fight for Y/N. But he could not do that, could he? Fight. Not physically, at least.

“I need water.” George got up and moved to the kitchen, not knowing that his interruption of Alex’s internal monologue was like him saving the younger from drowning.

A light blush rushed to his cheeks as Alex pulled his head up. He inhaled deep and released it in a controlled exhale. Embarrassed with himself for falling victim to self-deprecation. It had to stop, and it was getting better. Alex just slipped up. He rerouted his focus to think neutral (as positive was a little out of reach), think solutions, think forward. 

Life is not a fiction. Not a page-turning romantic thriller nor bafta-nominated melodrama. He was not a leading man. Y/N was not the Eurydice to his Orpheus. Alex was himself. A regular human – he did not have the liberty of being able to go on an epic quest or save the world to prove himself to her.

He could not win back her comfort in him with a grandiose gesture – even if he wanted to. It had to be words. It had to be realistic actions. Sincere. Genuine. And Alex did not care if it would be difficult or if Y/N was difficult to understand, to please, he would keep trying until she told him to stop.

There was no guarantee Y/N would ever again see him as a safe space. Still, he would do his all because…well because he missed her. Alex had never missed someone like he did Y/N. 

He missed her more than he would miss his own heart if it lept from his chest. He missed her like they had spent their entire existence together up until that moment. He missed holding her close – brushing his fingers over her soft skin. He missed that blissful moment where he got to wake up with her there. 

Most of all, he missed how stable she made him feel. He was more present with her than he had been all his twenty-odd years. When she was with him, Alex lived a lifetime in each individual second.

Y/N made him feel strong for the first time in a long time.  He could not always carry himself, but  he would always, always be there to carry her.  

A minute later, George returned to the room with a water bottle in both hands; without warning, he chucked one towards the sofa. It struck Alex in the chest and landed in his lap before he doubled over. 

“Ow!” he shouted into his knees.

Taking a swig from his bottle, the older sighed and asked, “You alright?”

“No!” Alex popped back up and shouted. “You just hit me with a water bottle, you fucking idiot.”

George dropped his then half-full bottle onto the coffee table and took an extra step toward the sofa but remained standing. Looking down on the younger – something George did not have much experience in – he jabbed his index finger into his flatmate’s temple, pushing his head to the side.

“I meant your head.” He repeated, “You alright?”

“Again, George? We’re doing this again? You’ve never checked up on me this much before. Are you alright, Mr. Authoritarian?” Alex stood up and pushed his chin forward, bringing their faces closer and exaggerating the centimetre or four he had over his flatmate in height.

Shrugging both his shoulder, not flustered in the slightest, George said, “I’ve seen you like this before.”

“Like what?”

“After a break-up, you’re fine and good for a few months, but then you get a crush, and you start doing this to yourself. Fixating and—and fanning all these feelings and hyping yourself up to be disappointed. Now with Red—”

“I don’t want to talk about Red.” Alex snapped and moved to step around the coffee table, uncomfortable with the closeness he created. “For fuck sake, my life doesn’t revolve around the woman.”

“I’m not saying that.” George followed him. “Just that with the health advisements and staying inside, maybe you clung onto the first attractive person you saw in reach. Sammy’s not the type you go for – too muscular or whatever – so it’s Red. You should recognize that it’s not real; it’s nothing to do with her as a person; it’s just your pattern.” His prepared sounding speech came to an end as he placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

Disgust glazing over his eyes, Alex dropped his shoulder recoiling from the contact like it might burn him. His voice was not gentle, with the sound of his scowl in each syllable, “You really think I’m that pathetic, huh?”

“In a few days or weeks, it’ll go away, all this, and you will feel like a complete idiot for acting like you are.”

“If you know that it’s not going to last, then why are you being such a prick? Why don’t you let me have a little fun in my,” he raised his hands, putting air quotes on his last word, “delusion?”

“Is that what Red is to you? Entertainment?” George looked disappointed. “That’s not fair—”

“No.” Alex refused, folding his arms. “I was repeating what you were saying.”

It went quiet; a pin could drop, and the sound would reverberate like in an echo chamber. Sweat beaded up on both men’s foreheads. Tensions unfamiliar to their apartment seemed to raise the temperature beyond boiling. Alex hated arguing – hated arguing with George. It was not something that happened almost ever until…Y/N.

In the silence, George closed his eyes, squeezed them shut as he dipped his chin to his chest. He blew out a harsh breath before straightening up and again opening his mouth. “If you do not listen to me. If you do not listen to yourself – that logical bit that isn’t wank material and how to get canceled – you are going to do something you regret. People will get hurt. Sorry I’m such a massive prick, but I know you, Alex. I know you and you’ll be fine; you always are. You’ll laugh off this ridiculous crush like you did when you were done daydreaming about Tom Holland twenty-four-seven those two months straight after Homecoming came out. You’ll be fine, but Sammy and Red might not be. I don’t want you starting a fight you’re not able to finish.”

Despite standing still with firm feet, Alex backed off. He could not keep holding on in the intense staredown, and he looked away. Folded arms dropped. There would be no response from him, not to that.

“You not saying anything proves my point.” George finished though he was not triumphant sounding. He spoke like something was blocking his throat, “You know what you’ve been doing is wrong, and you know I’m right.”

Taglist: (message to join!) @angelbabyivy​ @eboysimp​​ @trhtshonf @jaythegay92

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader #Internet sensation #commentary crew #eboys #memeulous #george memeulous

[caffeinated-mendes]

The Band - Shawn Mendes

masterlist

previous work

synopsis: you’re a talented drummer, needed by many tour agencies, and you’ve just gotten another job. this time, you’re on tour with shawn mendes, and it’s one of the best tours you’ve been on. but before you’re close to finishing, you start feeling like you’re something more than a bandmate to shawn.

a/n: hey everyone! it’s been a while. i took a break from writing to focus on my priorities, and now i’m getting back into it. i might upload only once every month or two, but this way, i’ll probably be more consistent and my content will be better and longer. as always, thank you for reading. much love <3

word count: 14.7 k

warnings: swearing, implied/referenced nsfw content

*if you prefer, you can read this on ao3 here

“Are you the new drummer?” You perk your head up from your shaking knee, shifting in the plastic chair you’re sat in. A woman is standing in front of you, seeming to be in her late twenties, and she looked very professional. Black pencil skirt and a navy blue blouse, and bleached hair slicked back with a clipboard in her hand. 

You nod, “Yes, I was told to wait here.” You suddenly felt very underdressed next to her. She radiated confidence, and your distressed jeans and graphic tee were sub-par to say the least. Every audition you had you dressed up, but that was all you really dressed up for, save for parties. 

She grins a welcoming smile, “Perfect. You’ll fit right in. Come and follow me so you can meet the boys.” Grateful for the warmness in her voice, you pass the many hallways of the studio Shawn and his band had rented out. It was nice, and a little off the grid, which you didn’t mind. “I’m Missy, by the way. My real name’s Margaret, but everyone just calls me Missy.”

“It’s nice to meet you, then, Missy.” You politely reply, because you’re still unsure even if she was nice to you. It was hard to warm up to new people, but when you jammed out on the drums, it felt like everything around you fell away, and you didn’t worry about looking vulnerable. Missy’s heels click on the tile of the studio, which turns to thudding as you enter the carpeted room. Black sound absorption panels line the room, and a fluorescent light shines above, illuminating the otherwise dim room. 

Sat on an amp near a set of drums and a guitar rack was a short guy with dirty blonde hair gathered behind his neck. He wore athletic shorts and a muscle shirt, and gave off the vibe that he wouldn’t mind getting drunk with you any time you asked. He slapped on a shimmering black bass, and you were impressed at how well he played. You recognized a bassline from one of your favorite songs. “I love Flea,” you say, and he looks up, grinning an absolutely ridiculous smile. It didn’t match his appearance at all, and made him look dorky as ever. “It sounds great.” You gestured to his bass.

Missy turned to you, “This is Kit. He looks bulky but he won’t do you any harm, I promise.”

Kit sets his bass on the rack and walks up to you, taking your hand and kissing it, “M’lady.” His deep voice sets off a set of laughs between the two of you, “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. And yes, Flea is fucking amazing.”

You smile at his so eloquently-put sentence as another guy enters the room, this one much taller and leaner than Kit. “And this,” Missy turns to him, “Is Simon. He’s our guitarist-slash-vocal backup.” Simon grins, shaggy dark hair going into his eyes as he shakes your hand.

“I saw your audition video. You sound awesome,” He crosses his arms, “Let’s just hope Kit can keep up with you.”

“Shut up, dumbass,” Kit choruses from behind. 

Simon smirks, “Shawn should be here any minute. He ran to get us some coffee. I hope you’re okay with cream.” He turns to the soundboard, fidgeting with a track on the monitor. Missy leaves silently, rubbing your arm in comfort before she goes.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” You look around the room. In the middle of the studio is a microphone with headphones hanging on the stand holding it. Next to it is a beautiful guitar: it has three bronze and three brass strings and dark-stained wood. To the left of the stand are your drums for the time being. They’re glossy and black with shining cymbals, and two drumsticks placed on the bass drum. 

Kit picked up his bass again and revisited his spot on the amp, even when there was a perfectly good stool for him off the right of the microphone, “Go on,” He says to you, “Give it a go.” You inhaled and grabbed your set of drumsticks from your back pocket. They were special, a gift from your father, and you never wanted to be without them. They had little etchings at the bottom of each of the sticks, a little circle surrounding your initials. The stool underneath you creaked, and you moved the other pair of drumsticks to the ground. Simon smiles, watching you as you hit the pedal beneath you a few times, feeling the deep, booming sound resonate through your body. 

You start slow, picking a moderate tempo, and as the seconds pass, you increase the complexity and the speed, feeling a rhythm that explains how you feel yourself right now. Nervous, but excited. Excited for the new adventure, excited for a new chapter, but scared that you won’t find happiness on this tour. It never happens, but it’s still a doubt in your mind. This doubt booms out from the beat, and the cymbals mimic your strangled heartbeat, mimic your unsureness in yourself and your abilities. You begin to move your body with the momentum of the beat, your hair flicking wildly around you as you lean back and forth, bracelets rattling on your wrist and your sneaker hitting the pedal with such intensity that the ending feels like the end of a firework show: it’s sudden, and dramatic, and so adrenaline-filled you feel like you’re coming out of a trance. 

It’s silent for a moment, until you hear an unfamiliar cry going, “Yeah! Wooo!” and two other voices whooping and clapping. Looking up, you see someone standing against the closed door, grinning wildly. You exhale a breath of relief and get up from the stool, recognizing the figure. Shawn stood, his eyes glittering, his smile saying he was impressed. A set of coffees sat on the table next to him, dangerously close to the soundboard. 

“That was fucking awesome!” Kit comes up to you and whips you around in a circle, setting you down with a crazy look in his eye. Normally, you would’ve been weirded out by that much contact with someone you met five minutes ago, but it felt normal and comfortable. “We’re never gonna let you go,” Kit said. 

“Should I be scared?” You look and Shawn and Simon, pocketing your drumsticks again.

“I’m not sure, Kit gets attached,” Shawn replies, and walks up to you with his hand out, “I’m Shawn. I’m so glad we got you, I don’t know what I would’ve done without a drummer on this tour.” You shake his hand, and then put your hands in your pockets, rocking on your toes.

“I don’t know, but I’m glad I’m here too. I love traveling the world.” You look up at Shawn, his eyes not too far from yours. You were pleased to say you were taller than most people, but he still had a few inches over you. Shawn exhales softly, a small laugh, and you look at his curling brown hair falling onto his forehead, watching as he takes off his jacket and sets it on the desk chair in front of the soundboard.

Shawn hands you a cup of coffee and it warms your cold hands, a sign you were nervous. “Should we go through the setlist? We only have the studio for the rest of today.” Kit and Simon hum in agreement, and Shawn hands you a packet of sheet music. 

You refuse it, swallowing the sip of coffee you took, “Oh, don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I got all the songs memorized by now. I wouldn’t want to slip up in concert. I have my own at home, anyway.” 

He grins, “Perfect. Let’s start with Lost in Japan, yeah?” He directs the question to all of you as you both take your seats. From here, you can see all of them well. You knew you’d have to start to learn their mannerisms and they way the cued people in, Shawn especially, because you’d seen some guitar and drum solos in the setlist from the information they sent you. Simon moved to the keyboard off to the left of him, running through the melodic introduction to the song. You loved the intro, but loved it even more when the beat dropped and you came in with all your energy, feeling an amazing vibe from Kit’s bass, and every once in a while Shawn would look back at you to make sure you were alright, checking if you were feeling comfortable. You’d been with so many bands, but it never felt like this. Deep down, a tugging in your stomach told you that you had a feeling this was going to be one of the best years of your life.

The line for security was too long. It was the next morning, and you were stuck lugging your massive suitcase a few inches every few minutes because the Toronto airport didn’t know how to manage lines. It’s too early for this, you thought as you gazed out the huge windows lining the sleek airport. It was still dark, and your first stop was Dublin, so you had to leave before the crack of dawn to make your flight. You felt bad for the guys though, each of them having to carry an equally as large suitcase with their guitar cases. All of their cases looked the same: plastered with fragile stickers that were scratched and peeling at the edges. You scratched your head, feeling your loose ponytail. You may or may not have fallen asleep on the car ride there, resulting in your messy hair, and the boys may or may not have made a video of them scaring you awake once you arrived at the airport. 

You tugged on your hoodie, pulling the strings nervously, and once you realized you were tapping your foot and playing with the hair tie on your wrist, you took out your earbuds to distract you from the commotion of the line ahead of you. A relaxed melody floated into your head as you put them in, and Shawn shifted in front of you, getting ready to go through the scanner. He turned to face you and the boys, watching as his security guards inched closer to the four of you. You felt bad for him sometimes, because even not knowing him well, you knew that it was hard for him to go places and have normal experiences.

The music settled your nerves a bit, your hand tapping your thigh to the beat of the song. “What are you listening to?” Shawn asks quietly. You handed him an earbud, and he leaned close to you, connected by the cord. You felt your heartbeat quicken, but you didn’t know why. It must’ve been the song, because it was getting louder as it reached the bridge. “I’ve never heard this song,” Shawn says, and you hand him your phone so he can look at what it’s called. “I like it, I think I’ll download their album so I can listen on the plane.”

The sides of your lips turn in a smile, and he mirrors your expression back to you. “If you’re sitting next to me we can always share.” Shawn takes out the earbud, and hands it back to you as the song ends. 

“Okay, I think we will be because Kit and Simon like sitting next to each other. They say I snore.” Shawn nudges your shoulder, and you laugh, turning your gaze to the two of them behind you. They were messing with the sticker tags on their suitcases, unsure of how to straighten them out. 

“I’m sure you don’t,” You replied, and looked at him. He had his head close to yours, and from there you could smell his shampoo. It smelled like mint, and the scent drifted away as Shawn was called through the metal detector. You suddenly began to feel hot, even though it was March and freezing in the airport. Controlling your breathing, you put your cold hands on your face and started to gain some more control over your heartbeat. What was wrong with you? You had already built up your immunity from so many world tours, and knew you would only catch something once or twice during the tour. Were you already feeling sick?

Simon pushed you along through the tunnel, into the plane. He hated standing still like you, and now that the boys had left their guitars, he had wanted to board as quickly as possible. It was fun to learn all the guys’ quirks. You knew Kit the best so far, just because he never really stopped talking. He loved talking about his life and weird experiences he’d had, and honestly, it was fitting because you were such opposites. You knew how he hated cheese with a passion and once threw up four times in a row after chugging a gallon of milk in thirty seconds. He was very entertaining, to say the least.

You knew Simon had a little sister back at home, and he was from Chicago, which explained the way he said his As. He’d been playing guitar since he was nine years old, and you could relate to him in that way because you started on drums from a young age, too. You had met some of Shawn’s friends that traveled along and of course, his manager, and every other important person that came on tour with you all, but you stayed close to the band. After all, you had known them a day longer than anyone else.

Shawn hadn’t told you much, but he didn’t need to. His friends had already told you some embarrassing things about him, and you knew you would get to know each other better as the tour progressed. You didn’t want to pry.

You boarded the plane, and got into your assigned seat. There were only two seats together because you were flying first class, and you were glad to have the extra leg room and space. Looking out the window, you saw that it began to rain pretty hard, so you already anticipated some bad turbulence going into the sky. Luggage carriers zoomed around the plane, and you watched as the sun began to peek through the horizon. It streaked the sky a bright orange, and made the clouds pink. It gave you a warm feeling that you only got when you saw the sunrise. 

Shawn shuffled into the seat next you, snapping you out of your daydream. The lights shut off at that exact moment, making the inside of the plane glow blue at the ceiling, meaning passengers could sleep for a while before it got really bright. You could only see Shawn’s necklace sparkling as it escaped his hoodie, and some of his hair. Finally, your eyes began to adjust right as he got settled in. You pulled out your phone again and offered him an earbud. He took it with a smile. “What are we listening to?”

“My playlist. Prepared to be amazed at my exquisite music taste.” 

“Will do.” He put it in his ear, shuffling to the right side of his seat so he wouldn’t accidentally pull it out of your ear. At that moment you felt a bump in your back, ripping it out of your ear anyway.

“Sorry, Sticks!” Kit poked his head over your seat, and you looked up at him.

“Sticks?” You questioned.

“Y’know, you have your own special drumsticks. I gotta find some nickname to call you by.” He grins his dopey grin as he sits back down. 

“That’s a terrible nickname.” You call back.

He replies, “That’s why I’m keeping it, cause you don’t like it!” You could practically hear him smiling then. Shawn shakes his head, giggling with you. 

At that point the plane began to turn around, ready to go on the runway. You clenched your fists, tapping them on your legs as the plane got faster and faster, and finally, you were pushed back into your seat as it began its ascent. No matter how many times you flew on a plane, you hated getting in and out of the sky. Your mind went to the darkest situations, and you terrified yourself every time with the smallest possibility that you wouldn’t make it to the ground safe. 

You remembered your dad’s words to you when you were little. Whenever you would cry he would show you how to breathe. Holding onto your bracelets, you breathed in five seconds, held it, out five seconds. After your heart stopped racing, you looked out the window and completely ruined all the work you’d done. The plane was turning, but it looked like it was falling to you. Turbulence made it shake, quickening your heartbeat. You immediately shut your eyes.

A gentle tap went to your shoulder. You opened your eyes and looked at Shawn, who had concern plastered across his face, “Hey, are you okay?”

You gulped, “Yeah, I’m fine, I get a little panicky on planes. I’ll be fine once we’re above the clouds.” At that point, Shawn took your hand and squeezed it with both of his, warmth surging through. “What are you doing?”

“Pressure to the body helps people control anxiety, remind them that they’re there and okay, you know? Usually holding them works best because they’re soothing too, but-” he stopped himself, “Jeez, your hands are so cold.”

“Yeah, they get like that when I’m nervous.” You replied.

“Okay, just look at me. Don’t look at the windows.” His eyes met yours, and they never wavered. He began to breathe just like how your dad taught you, never letting go of your hand. He stopped after a minute or so. “There you go, now you’ll be okay. We’re above the clouds.”

“Thank you,” You said sympathetically. The music in your ears suddenly came back, and you realized you tuned it out before. Shawn began to rummage through his bag, taking out a case for glasses. He opened it, and put on the ugliest pair of glasses you had ever seen. They were big, orange tinted glasses that covered half his face. “What are those?” You asked, holding in laughter.

“What?” He looked at you like it was nothing out of the ordinary. “These? They help you sleep because of the orange lens.”

“You’re ridiculous.” 

Dublin came quicker than you expected. You must have fallen asleep on the flight, which was strange, since you never fell asleep on planes. You must’ve been mentally drained from take-off, you tell yourself. As expected, Shawn was fast asleep, adorning his orange glasses and your earbud still in his ear. 

Once you grabbed your bag from the overhead compartment, you sped your way through the plane and the tunnel, trying desperately to move your legs. You could feel the pins and needles in your legs and the humid air filling your lungs as you entered the airport. Kit and Simon walked with you, one on both sides, and Shawn lagging behind, talking to his friend Connor. He seemed nice when you had met that same morning, but you didn’t talk much after that.

Driving from the airport, you never got used to the feeling of being somewhere new. The sky was a pale blue with clouds streaked across it and driving along the weathered roads with the sun-baked buildings was another experience. The air smelled cleaner, at least cleaner than Toronto, and looking out the window of the car you and the boys were driving in, you could see shops open for business lining the street, selling bouquets of flowers, books, pastries, and so many other enchanting things. A double decker bus passed you, crowded with people snapping photos. Children ran along the sidewalk playing with kites and eating ice cream. It seemed like a wonderful place to live.

The hotel you stayed at wasn’t big, but a medium-sized building with a few floors. Since you were the only girl besides Alessia (and she was sharing a room with one of her family members) you would get your own room. Missy had stayed in Toronto, telling you that she’d be there for the Asian leg of the tour. You were content with being with Alessia and the guys, though, because you often found ways to entertain yourself. You didn’t doubt that Kit wouldn’t be entertaining nonetheless. 

Andrew, Shawn’s manager, handed all of you your keycards as you entered the lobby of the hotel. It looked nice; high ceilings, chandeliers, places to sit and a bar ready for anyone to sit at. All you wanted to do was sleep and the first concert wasn’t until tomorrow, so you took the first elevator and slipped out of the group as quietly as possible. When you unlocked your room, you were met with a queen bed, a bathroom, a small counter space, table with two chairs, a beautiful view from the window. White curtains blew from the wind that picked up in the room and your mouth watered at the smell of the bakery across the street. Setting your bag down, you began your mental hotel room checklist your mother ingrained into your head: check the mattress for bed bugs, take the top cover off because it’s never washed, put your suitcase in the closet, check inside and under all furniture for anything suspicious. 

You sometimes wondered how your mother and father even married each other, and stayed together at that. They were such opposites. She was a control freak, obsessed with keeping things orderly the way she wanted. He was relaxed, ready for anything that came his way. You wondered how people saw you as when they first met you. You cast the thought aside and closed and locked the window. You changed into leggings and a big t-shirt and crawled into bed, feeling the stress of the day fade away as you sank into the mattress. Within seconds, you fell asleep.

A harsh knocking woke you up from your sleep, and for a second you sat disoriented, not remembering where you were. The sun was setting outside, the horizon glowing. Events from the day came back to you, and knocking kept coming from your door. “Hey, you up?” Someone called on the other side. Yawning, you padded over to it, opening the door and rubbing your eyes.

It was Shawn, and he looked at you, hair a mess from turning in your sleep and the big t-shirt you wore going to your thighs. “Uh, sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up. I just wanted to know if you wanted to come get dinner with everyone?” He scratched the back of his neck, looking at you. He had changed into a green long sleeved sweater and black jeans, looking very put together. His hair had been tamed a little more, still curly but not sticking up in places. 

“Yeah, sure, and it’s no problem, I was tired. Are we having a rehearsal tonight?” You touched the bracelets on your wrist subconsciously, and took your hair out of its ponytail, releasing the tension from your scalp.

Shawn cleared his throat after looking at you strangely, “No, the hotel doesn’t have a drum set for you, so we can’t, but we’re gonna go down the street to a place Andrew reserved for us in about ten minutes.”

You nodded, “Alright, let me get dressed and I’ll be waiting in the lobby.” Shawn nodded, and turned to leave, but you caught his wrist. He looked back at you, hazel eyes boring into yours, “Hey, seriously though, thank you for helping me on the plane. I don’t like to tell people about that but it’s hard to hide it. Especially since you’re intuitive.”

“Thank you for the compliment, and hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” Shawn doesn’t take his wrist from your grasp, but you let it go.

“Well, technically, you’re my boss, so-”

“I don’t like that technicality. I want us to be friends. I want you to feel welcome with us, and I want to get to know you and the others to be your friends. So if that means helping you breathe every time we take off or have turbulence, I will gladly do that.” Shawn turns to leave again.

“You don’t even know yet if I work with you all on stage. How do you know I’ll get to stay?” You questioned.

He pressed the elevator button down the hall, to the right of you, “I have a feeling you will.” With that, he went inside the elevator and let the doors close on him.

You skipped and hopped along the cobbled streets of Dublin, laughing, looking up at the sky. As the breeze bit at your face and the moon looked back at you, you got a strange nostalgic feeling, a feeling that made you think you should remember this night forever. You and a few of Shawn’s friends had begun to walk away from the restaurant you had dinner at. Alessia, his special guest and opener, had begun to chat with you, and for a while you felt bad. Through all the commotion you didn’t even introduce yourself because you hadn’t even seen her, even though you knew all the drum parts to her songs. Her setlist was really fun to play.

Alessia ran along with you, a few of the others in tow. You had sparked some conversation about music, fashion, and new movies when you heard some folk music being played on the speakers at the bar across the road. Your feet moved in a rhythm, following a step pattern that you had been taught from folk dancers around the world. That was another thing you loved about touring: learning things from other cultures. “What are you doing?” Alessia asks, snickering as you dance along the pavement. Your sneakers tap the stone to the beat.

“Dancing. Folk dancing.” You turn to face her, dancing while moving backwards, “Come try.” Alessia smiles as you slow down the steps. She catches on fast, and soon enough you’re speeding it back to tempo. Suddenly your jacket isn’t needed as much, and you feel your face is flushed. Tying it around your waist, you see Alessia teaching Kit and Connor, and soon enough, all four of you are dancing, arms linked in a line. Andrew, Shawn, and the rest of the crew finally notice as they catch up to the four of you laughing, humming along to the song. Simon joins the line, asking, “What are we doing?”

“Having fun!” Kit screams back, whooping into the night sky. You see Shawn take a seat on one of the benches across from the five of you, him and everyone else clapping to the beat. He had a strange look on his face, and he wouldn’t break his gaze from you. Every time you laughed, you would sneak a look at him and see a tiny smile tug at his lips. It made you feel off-balance, in a way.

The song ends in no time, and you’re left with some energy spent, smoothing your messy hair down and tying a loose shoelace. A new song comes on, and you and Alessia begin twirling around the street, on your way back to the hotel. Shawn catches up to the two of you, face red from the cold. Alessia reaches out a hand, and her and Shawn begin to zoom in circles with locked arms, going fast with the momentum like a spinning top.

You remembered playing that game when you were little. You and your friends called it Twister. Alessia beckoned you over, and now the three of you became interlinked; Shawn’s cackling, leaning his head back in adrenaline as you scream to slow down. “I think that the rest of them think we’re acting like kids!” You grin, feeling your hair whip your face.

Shawn gasps out, nose and cheeks cherry red, “Who cares?”

“You’re on with Alessia in five,” a stage manager peeks into your’s and Alessia’s shared dressing room, and you nod at them, a mumble of okay in reply. You got nervous before going on stage, but it was more of the adrenaline making you unable to speak. The bright lights in the vanity in front of you shined, illuminating your face. You always did something fun with your makeup with each tour, and decided that this time, you’d do a bright color lining your eyes with some mascara. A bright blue lined your eyes this time, making them pop. Simple, but cool. The band usually had to wear darker clothes to emphasize Shawn and Alessia in front, which wasn’t a problem, so you sported some black sneakers, ripped jeans, denim jacket, and a gray tie-dyed shirt. 

You’re tapping your drumsticks against your thighs as you lightly jog down the bright hall, near the band. People are gathered around in a huddle. “There she is!” Kit says, watching as you walk to the group.

“What’re we doing?” You ask, joining the huddle. You felt like a football player.

“It’s tradition. We say a speech, and then go on stage.” Simon tells you, putting a hand on your back. Alessia’s to the right of you, and Shawn’s opposite from you, watching you. You feel strange again, only for a second. Was he watching you because he wanted to see if you wouldn’t do well tonight? That was impossible, given what he’d said to you last night.  

Alessia’s set left you feeling like you’d drank five coffees and then some more energy drinks, every nerve buzzing in your body. The crowd was wild; they knew all the words to her songs and she would occasionally run to you, singing her heart out while you returned the amazing feeling back, hearing your drums boom over the speakers. Sometimes you would see that the cameras panned on you, and you watched your flushed face, looking like you were completely in your element.

When she told the crowd to give it up for the band, Simon gave you a big thumbs up, reassurance that you were doing well. The first performance was always the hardest. The crowd’s screams roared through your ears, and they became deafening when Shawn appeared on stage, rising from the middle platform, smoke bathing him in the spotlights. You felt your stomach lurch in excitement, ready for the next two and a half hours, every single beat memorized in your fingertips. 

Shawn starts with Lost in Japan, singing beautifully. His voice sounds buttery and warm, and you wait for your queue as he pauses before the beat for dramatic effect. You come in right on time, everything syncing together, and your body’s pulsing, moving with the beat. You’re sweating, but it’s the best feeling you’ve ever felt in your entire life. A few songs pass, and Shawn begins one of his covers, walking over to Kit as they assemble back to back, shredding solos. As the interlude progresses, you see Shawn walking to you, and you swear his gaze is something you’ve never seen before. It’s euphoric, his hair and face glistening, the lights shining so bright that it makes him hard to see until he’s right in front of you, leaning over your cymbals. You flick the drumstick in a circle, catching it as you crash onto the symbols. Shawn’s looking at you, and you feel like all that exists is the two of you. It’s like you’re connected: you know that you’re both feeding each other the best kind of energy you’ve ever felt.

It wasn’t that way with Alessia. Sure, it felt awesome, but this, this guy, this guy who looks absolutely perfect in every way is putting you in a trance and suddenly you come back to your body, him giving you a wink as he makes his way back to center stage. You try to control your breathing with the beat, feeling lightheaded. Soon enough, you focus back on your drums and you pretend like nothing’s happened. But you know, deep down in your stomach, something in you has changed.

Four Months Later

“Goddamn it, I had two yellows left!” Alessia screams, huffing in frustration and flopping back onto the pillows of your bed. You laugh maniacally, falling down next to her, ignoring the scattering Uno cards all over your coverlet. “I can’t believe we’ve been on tour since March, and it’s already July,” She mutters quietly, looking up at the popcorn ceiling.

“I know. It feels like it’s been my entire life but somehow went by so fast I didn’t even notice,” You say back. The two of you just finished a show, exhausted but glad you got to rest for a bit before you left. All of you were taking the bus tonight and you know you wouldn’t sleep very much. Your sleeping habits on planes and buses had not improved one bit since March. 

“You wanna watch a movie tonight on the bus?” Alessia asks, sitting up to gather the cards. She picks one off your thigh, and you stretch your arms, your tank top making the Miami heat and humidity less miserable. Your hotel room still kept the moisture in, and if there was one thing you hated about Canada, it would be the humidity. It made you feel homesick, though, and you sigh as you feel your back stiffen.

“Yes, please, and Shawn asked if we could watch Far From Home,” You grinned at the thought of seeing MJ and Peter’s kiss on the Tower Bridge. You liked some romance if it involved Tom Holland.

Alessia groans, “How many times have you and Shawn watched Spiderman?” She snorts, “It feels endless. And you both can quote that movie word for word.”

“But you forget that we’ve watched the Andrew Garfield and Toby Maguire ones more. Now pick: confident and suave Spiderman, or cute, geeky, highschool Spiderman?”

“Cute geeky highschool Spiderman.” She responds, and all of a sudden there’s a knock at your door. Alessia gets up to answer it, but the door’s already swinging open, and Shawn struts in. He’s wearing a plain, black t-shirt and some gray sweatpants and his hair is wet from the shower. You feel a tugging in your stomach and ignore it.

He grins, “Did someone say Spiderman?” Alessia throws a pillow at him, and he falls back into the desk chair opposite the two of you, laughing.

“Unfortunately, and how did you even get in?”  She responds, sitting up on the headboard of your bed. 

“Kit stole your spare keycard so he could eat some of the German chocolate you have stashed in your backpack, and I caught him in the hallway before the show, so I came to return it now.” He gets up from the desk chair, and sits on the foot of the bed, handing it to you.

You grit your teeth, “I’m gonna kill him. I have been saving that for good reason, rationing it bit by bit. It’s not like you can get it back at home.” Alessia and Shawn respond in a chorus of giggles, looking at your angry face. “What? No one messes with my chocolate!”

It’s a few hours later, and you, Shawn and Alessia are crowded onto the long couch in the bus, letting the streetlamps and highways pass you by. Everyone else had left to go sleep, but you wanted to finish the movie and see the ending, even though you knew exactly what happened. You wore your warm, black sweatpants and the same tank top you had on before. Your hair tickled your back, but it felt good to release the tension from your scalp. You’d decided to put it up from the show tonight, an elegant, slicked back look. Shawn was off to the right of you, watching as Mysterio ‘saved’ the city from the ‘fire elemental.’ You hated him so much, feeling a little too attached to your Marvel characters. Alessia had begun to nod off, and finally was awoken when the bus hit a pothole. She groaned, “I need to sleep,” She pushed herself up off the couch, moving down the hallway into the bunks, “Goodnight, nerds.”

She always did that when you watched anything superhero-y. “Goodnight,” you and Shawn replied in unison. 

Opening your phone, you scrolled through your Instagram, seeing all your mentions of the band in concert. There was a picture of you and Kit hugging, Alessia and you running across the stage together, and you and Shawn playing through your solo. “You always do so well on that part,” Shawn says, leaning into you and looking at your phone. You felt your cheeks flare up and cursed yourself. He looked stunning in the photo, as per usual. Curly hair a mess, and his shirt stuck to his body with sweat. “I loved that outfit you wore, too, it was so cool.” He added. 

You looked at yourself and saw your lace, navy blue blouse, attached with interlacing straps, and flared black pants, paired with combat boots and your usual bracelets. Your slicked back ponytail was completed with the dangly earrings you wore. “Thanks,” you responded, “I try.” You can feel his shoulder touching yours, his knee brushing up against you. You scroll down a bit farther through the photos you’re tagged in, and see a picture of you and your dad. He posted it on your birthday. It was you and him backstage, a few years ago when you’d played your first tour. His hair and eyes were the same color as yours, and he always had a scruffy beard. You’re hugging him, and you remembered at that moment what he’d said to you. I love you, I’m so proud of the person you’ve become. Never stop doing what you love. Follow your heart, my love. 

You smiled to yourself and began to miss him so much. He was probably at home, watching his favorite show on TV, mom sitting next to him on the couch, reading a book. “Who’s that?” Shawn asked. He looked at you, and you turned your head, watching as his eyes studied you. 

“My dad. He’s the one who taught me to play the drums.” You fiddled with the bracelets on your wrist.

Shawn nods, “I’m guessing those bracelets you always wear are from him.” You looked down as he took your wrist, looking at three entangled together. 

“The first one, the one with the bird on it,” It was brown, the engraved bird, silver, “That was his. It was his good luck charm. The second he got me on my fifteenth birthday, the one that’s the silver chain.” That one had your birthstone on it in the middle, “And the last, that was given to me when I graduated high school.” It was a braided black cord, and on it a charm silvery-black that was your first initial. 

“They’re beautiful.” Shawn moves his fingers down from your arm, tracing your skin, and you shiver, “You’re beautiful.” His voice is soft, almost as if he’s scared for you to realize what he said, bottom lip quivering. His eyes never move away from you. It’s hard to see him, but the bus’s blue lights keep the room from being pitch black. You see his lips tug into a smile, and then he’s kissing you, and it’s like your body’s wired to respond to him. Kissing back, you move your fingers to the nape of his neck, twisting his hair into knots. You feel his hand settle on your waist, and he moves closer till you’re nearly on his lap. He smells like mint shampoo and his lips are soft. He teases you, licking your lip until you open your mouth, engulfing yourself in his touch.

You’re suddenly glad that you’re at the back of the bus, far from the driver and everyone sleeping. You pause for breath, looking at him. His eyes are sparkling, pupils blown out, and his lips and cheeks are flushed red. Your hair creates a curtain around your faces, and he plays with it, now that you’re settled on his lap. Feeling another wave of desire pulse through you, and you trace your fingers across his chest as he whines in response, but then you realize what’s happening, and your breath hitches, and you pull back, blood rushing to your face. “Wait, wait, we can’t do this. This isn’t right. I work with you.” You move off of him, getting up and standing.

Shawn grabs your hand, lightly. “What, no!” His voice is hushed, but still frantic, “It’s not like that. I’ve been feeling this for a while now, and every time I see you, it’s like I need you, I need you so-”

“-Shawn,” you say, and he stops, shutting his mouth and swallowing. He looks so good, and you feel your entire body wanting to go to him, but you knew it would end badly. You couldn’t have feelings. You shouldn’t. “This,” you waved your hands from you to Shawn, “We can’t do this.” 

All of a sudden, he takes your hand and puts it on his chest. “Tell me,” he says, and you feel his heart pounding, “Tell me you don’t feel anything when I do this. Tell me,” He pulls you in, putting his hand on your waist. The bus shakes, but he’s there, holding you, “You don’t feel anything when I do this.” He’s leaning over you now, mouth right next to your ear, “When you feel my hand running along your back,” you shiver, your entire body stiff, “Or when you hear me say that all I think about is you. And when you’re around me, all I want is to hold you like this, and feel your hands in my hair, and listen to your laugh, and lean on you when we watch movies, and play music with you, and-” 

You move his face from your side, and pull him in, kissing him again, and again, till you feel your lips swollen and your body pulsing, taking the feeling in one last time. Like that, it’s over, and you push away from him again, looking at his messy hair, curls strewn everywhere, and mutter, “I-I need to go to bed.” You can’t meet his eyes. His hands fall from your waist as you walk into the hallway, down to the bunks, every atom in your body protesting.

The next morning, you’re trying to busy your mind with anything you could possibly think of: memorizing the music for potential covers, reorganizing your suitcase; it was a flurry of meaningless tasks as you finally had to face soundcheck. Last night left you feeling lightheaded and warm inside, but when you thought about what was actually happening, that you had feelings for Shawn that he returned, your heart would pound and anxiety would creep into your chest. 

It wasn’t right. What if you decided to be together and then two weeks later you’ve argued and broken up and then the band doesn’t work? You’d ruin the entire tour. Or what if you felt that same pain you knew all too well?

You're tugging at the peeling skin on your lips, trying to delay soundcheck as much as possible as you round through the twisting hallways of the stadium. Humming helps you clear your head a bit, but the instant you see Shawn you know you’ll be tripping over yourself trying to get to your drums. As if heaven itself was descended upon you, Alessia and Simon are walking towards you, coming from the stage entrance. “They’re almost ready,” Simon said, his face calm.

Wondering if your face looked the same way your mind would’ve, you nodded, replying, “Alright, let’s go. Did you still want to do that solo with me, A?” You force yourself to tug a smile onto your lips. Simon patted your shoulder as he moved down the hallway, probably to get Kit to stop raiding the catering rooms for food.

Praying that the drums would muffle the world around you, Alessia replied, “Yeah, and I was thinking that maybe I could bring you to the front with me to hit the soundbox for an acoustic version, because Shawn said-”

“I kissed Shawn last night,” You blurted right before you walked through the stage door. You could see Connor, Geoff, and a few others crowding around some cameras, and your skull was pounding. Everything you felt that you questioned yourself about felt like a blow to the head. Alessia looked at you, her face unsettlingly calm. “Say something,” You pleaded.

“Was it good?”

“What? Ask me anything but that! Tell me I’m horrible, tell me this is wrong, that I’ll ruin this for everyone!” You grabbed Alessia’s arms, shaking her wildly. 

She began to smile. Smile. Why would she smile, of all things? “You guys are way more than friends, and you both know it,” Alessia assures. “You’re always teasing each other, you sit next to each other on planes and buses, and have you seen the way he looks at you on stage?” 

“What do you mean?” You asked. Alessia pulled you to the side of the doorway, Shawn walking down by Connor. 

“He looks back at you all the time on stage, and when he’s doing that solo with you, he’s facing only you on purpose. It’s like he doesn’t even remember anyone else is there.” She lovingly puts her hand on your arm, and you feel your stomach settling. “I’ve seen you on the plane, when you start to panic. He’s the only one who can calm you down, and you always make him feel better about being nervous up there.” She nods her head to the stage. “It’s only about what you want now.”

You groaned, turning your head to look at him. He was stiff all over, strumming his guitar as he sat on the edge of the stage. “I don’t know what I want. I have rules when it comes to tours. Relationships don’t end well.”

“Who’s relationship?” You jumped, turning to see Kit walk up, crumbs on his face.

You shrugged, “Oh, no one’s. I was just saying that usually band relationships don’t end well. I’ve seen one or two of ‘em.” You covered yourself, Alessia nodding. You didn’t actually know anyone who dated someone they worked with.

Kit scratches his chin, crumbs falling to the ground, “Well, my best friend’s mom ended up marrying the guy she was in a high school band with. They’re probably the happiest couple I’ve seen. Don’t ask me though,” He grinned, walking through the doorway and turning his head to face them, “I have commitment problems. See ya on stage, Sticks!”

You and Alessia rolled your eyes in unison. As he walked away from you, you looked at Shawn, who turned his head at the sound of your nickname. Alessia rubbed the small of your back, “I think he wants to talk to you,” she stated. You shook your head, ripping your eyes away from his stare. His eyes practically drowned you, his longing gaze making you feel dizzy. You were so fucked for him, and you didn’t have a clue what to do.

“Stay with me, A,” You practically whined like a five year old.

She shook her head, “I can’t do this for you,” She sounded like your mother, “If you tell him what you’re thinking, he’ll understand.”

You nodded and soon enough Alessia was gone, her laughing echoing through the arena. Shawn left his conversation, his friends’ eyes trailing after him as he approached you. He looked tired, devoid of sleep, and you felt guilt settle in the pit of your stomach. He lost sleep over you. It shouldn’t affect you, but you weren’t surprised by the same dark circles under your eyes this morning. He wore a plain white t-shirt, reasonable for the warm season, but now that you accepted your feelings for him, it was like you were seeing him differently this time. His eyes were prettier, body more graceful in the way he moved, and you could see every little detail that made him look perfect to you. “Hey,” was all he said.

His face seemed to be saying so much more, but you replied, “Hi.” God, you were so lame.

“We need to talk,” He said, fingers nearly touching yours where both your arms lay limp.

You nodded, watching his eyes shifting around your face as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle. “I know, it’s just that right now, I’m really confused, and I know that doesn’t make up for anything I did last night, but I just don’t know what I want.” You wanted to say you did, and everything in your heart that told you to kiss him right then and tell him you wanted him was chided at and locked away by your brain’s fears and doubts. You hadn’t realized that both your hands had met, and you were subconsciously running your thumb over the rings on his fingers.

Shawn was wordless, his mouth in a tight line. You watched as he inhaled, studying your intertwined hands, “I’ll wait for your answer,” He said it quietly, in the same way he had said that you were beautiful last night, unsure of what you were going to reply with. You began to open your mouth, but then someone cut you off. 

“Yo, Sticks! Where are you?” Kit called from the stage, “Where is she, man?” You could hear Simon mumble an ‘I don’t know.’

“I should probably go.” You didn’t dare to meet his eyes.

He let go of your hand, palm still outstretched. “Yeah, probably.”

The soundcheck had run by with few hiccups, Shawn asking you to adjust your amp a few times and approving of the acoustic version of one of Alessia’s songs. He all asked it politely, as if nothing happened in the last twenty-four hours. The same went for the concert: the crowd was amazing, as per usual, and that solo that you had always done with Shawn felt like nothing but pure tension. He looked at you in a way that showed he was trying to restrain himself and you doubted you looked any different.

“Did he say anything else to you after the show?” Alessia asked from your bed. You had finally gotten a hotel room together, and it was nice to have her there and to keep your mind off things. 

Wiping the pink eyeshadow and mascara lining your eyes, you muttered, “No, God, it’s like the worst feeling ever. It feels like he hates me, and he’s already so disconnected.” You threw your makeup wipe in the bathroom trash can, “He didn’t say a word, didn’t come to my dressing room like he always does. I feel like I’m losing him.” You glared at yourself in the mirror, steadying your body with two arms on the counter.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure he’s just as confused. Shawn needs some time to sort himself out, too.” You left the bathroom and joined her on the bed, groaning as you got under the covers.

“That’s the problem! He’s not confused. He knows what he wants and he told me he’d wait for my decision!” You aggressively turned to face her on your pillow.

Alessia turned herself to face you, the lamp behind her illuminating her outline, “What are you so scared of?” Her eyes were warm, and her hand ran up and down your arm.

“That I’ll ruin everything. What if we don’t work and then they’ll have to get a new band member because I messed it up?” Your eyes shifted from her to the threading of the covers.

Alessia sighed, “I know that can’t be all of it. What’re you hiding? Tell me.”

You knew the answer. It tugged at the back of your mind relentlessly. “I guess, I-I’m scared to love him. And for him to love me,” you replied, forcing yourself to accept it. You brought a hand up to your lip, tearing away at the skin. “I’ve been hurt before.”

Her mouth hinted at a smile, “Shawn would never hurt you. I know him, and I know that you’ve told me a little about your relationships, and you don’t need to tell me about them if you don’t want to.”

“I love you, A.” Your eyes began to flutter closed, the day’s exhaustion creeping up on you.

She shook you, making your eyes pop open, “I love you too. Now get out of my bed, you move around too much when you sleep.”

You had arrived home for two days, the tour coming to a stall for Shawn’s birthday. He had invited you to the party, and it had been the first time he’d spoken to you outside of a group for a few days. Now that you were safely home, you unsurely said that you would come, it being that you only lived twenty minutes away from him (you seriously wondered how you’d never played for him before). 

Arriving home felt strange. It was too quiet. When you’d set your keys down, everything was silent save for the storm raging outside. Toronto was refusing to be sunny for the time being. There weren’t any of Kit’s jokes causing everyone to laugh hysterically or scold him, none of Simon’s practicing sounding through the room, Alessia’s humming and drumming on any surface she could find, and especially none of Shawn’s laughter. Even when it was awkward between you two, you could always hear it, warm and broad coming from the back of the bus, or in a practice room. 

You had started to long for a pet, but you never wanted them to have to deal with your life of traveling. It might as well have belonged to your parents.

The first thing you did was raid the fridge for any food, and since you were gone for nearly five months, all you could see were bottles of ketchup and coffee creamer (which had definitely gone bad). Groaning, you pushed yourself away from the kitchen and grabbed your shoes from the front door, putting them on to walk down the block to your favorite pizza place. 

The healthiness of tour always gave you terrible cravings for junk food, and you basked in the glory of eating it twenty-five minutes later and laying on your couch in a food coma. A show you watched three times already played in the background, familiar voices and dialogue comforting you.

Your parents were enjoying their retirement, and were off exploring the Mediterranean, so no one familiar to your life before tour had been available. It was hard to make friends when you were gone for most of the year, but you still had a few, all of which were busy the same weekend you were home.

Everything felt terrible.

It was like you were crashing from a months-long high, unsettled by old surroundings and the quiet. So, you did what you always did when you felt lonely, tired, and overall miserable. Slowly, you got up from the couch and moved to your room, opening the drawer on the right side of your desk. You grabbed your notebook, a faded gray color with your first initial embroidered on the top right side. Taking a pen from your desk, you began to write incoherent sentences, different thoughts strung together in a way that didn’t make sense. It was strange to be back at your desk. Oftentimes, you wrote there whenever you were home from tours. It felt nostalgic to you. As your mind began to focus on one subject, you wrote pages and pages, completely unaware of time passing you.

The night in the bus kept replaying in your head, and Alessia’s words to you, and Shawn’s face looking at you onstage. It was like all you could think of was him. Every time you tried to change the subject you wrote about, it rooted back to him. Frustrated, you squinted your eyes and rubbed them. It was dark in your room. You hadn’t even noticed that three hours had passed. 

A forceful sigh left your lips. You got up from the chair, legs stiff and your head pounding. Moving to the bathroom connected to your room, you stepped into the shower, making the water scalding hot until it felt like your back was being burned. 

You sat and curled your knees to your body, crouching down to the floor of the shower, head hung in between your legs. Your hair blocked all light from entering, and it was like you were sucked into a trance of the endless beating of water on your back. All that was left was the steady rhythm of your breath. None of the day’s -correction- month’s stresses came to mind, and for once, your head was clear.

Shawn’s condo was really nice. It was spacious and open, with modern accents here and there in every room. You liked more of a cozy vibe, but each space still looked pleasing to the eye. There were too many people to count: some familiar faces and most unfamiliar. Bodies clashed together, music blasting, and some people chatted in corners with drinks in their hands. Not one for drinking all too much, you spotted a cooler that had soda in it near the door to the balcony. Popping the can open, you looked out the glass door. From there you could see the skyline, stars twinkling in the familiar pattern you had memorized long ago.

Your eyes scanned the room for Alessia. She didn’t text you yet, which means she was probably caught in traffic. Being completely honest with yourself, you questioned why you even came to the party in the first place. It wasn’t cool for Shawn to see your face and you to blow him off again. You knew you shouldn’t string him along, but something beckoned you in the back of your mind that told you you should stay.

It seemed like every two seconds you bumped into someone as you arrived at the edge of the balcony, a glass fence keeping you from tripping over the edge. There were laughs and screams and singing, and bass reverberated through the floor, rattling in your feet. Your stomach clenched as you drank the sweet soda; it did not agree with your already nervous stomach. Setting it down on the ground, you returned to looking at the skyline, not bothering to search for anyone you knew. 

“You made it.”

Looking at him just made your chest hurt even more. He was tipsy, you could tell from his blush and glazed-over eyes. Swallowing, you said softly, “Yeah.”

“Uh, d-you like the party?” His hair flopped in curls around his forehead as he gestured around himself. 

You nodded, “Mm, yeah. It’s great.” You cleared your throat, an awkward pause ensuing.

 “You know what? Okay, I’m just gonna tell you what’s on my mind because I’m a shitty person and a terrible bandmate and a whatever-other-adjective that connotes horrible friend,” Shawn stared at you, confused by your sudden flurry of words. “Continue?” You asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He gripped his drink in one hand and the other settled onto the ledge of the fence. 

“Alright. So, I shouldn’t have let you kiss me on the bus.” Shawn opened his mouth, then closed it as you stared him down, “That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to. Like, really bad. It’s just that I told myself after I dated a band member a long time ago that I would never do it again because it was the worst heartbreak of my life. And I can’t really talk about it right now.

“But then you were so nice to me and one of the best friends I’ve ever had and I hated ignoring you and avoiding you and doing all those things to keep myself from falling in love with you-” Your breath hitched as you realized what you just said. It didn’t imply you were falling in love with him, though. Shawn’s jaw clenched, but you further explained, “And you helped me on planes, and let me dump all my stresses onto you in the five months that we’ve known each other, and I feel like we can tell each other everything!

“And I’ve been writing songs! God, that’s one thing I’ve really done in my life. But it’s the only way to settle my thoughts and it keeps me from going insane. Because you, you make me go insane, Shawn.” You let out a deep breath, scared to see his face. 

He was smiling, and it felt like you were on that stage with him again, or in the bus with him, watching Spider-Man while everyone groaned that it was the tenth time you did, or listening to music on the plane, or sharing a chocolate chip cookie that you had snuck onto the bus without Kit seeing. It was like the five months you had shared together had been encapsulated into one look on his face.

Suddenly, Shawn grabbed your hand, “Come with me, right now.” He pulled you through crowds of people, and you wondered where he could possibly be taking you. A tug gripped your stomach, unwilling to stop, your blood pumping to your ears. You didn’t know where the hallways of his place led to. Finally, he went through the kitchen and to the hallway, down to the last door in the dark space. His hand was warm in your cold one, chapped knuckles being smoothed down by his touch. He smelled like alcohol and the outside but you didn’t mind. 

When he opened the door it was still dark, but as he shut it, he turned on the light inside, and you were mesmerized by his own tiny studio. A grand piano sat in the corner with mics hooked up next to it, and guitars lined the walls. A set of drums was close to you in the left corner. A desk on the right side held a computer and a soundboard. On a little wooden extension next to the desk lay a pile of notebooks, and Shawn led you to them, standing close to you as he handed you the second one under the pile of three. It was brown, with frayed edges and yellow pages on the inside. “Open to where the bookmark is,” He instructed. You pulled it out, it being the same color as the journal.

There, on the page was a messy script, cursive and so recognizable to you. You could read it, even through the rough erase marks and crossing outs on the page. Slowly, you started to read what the words said, formed into a song.

she’s here with me, and it’s like i can’t move

she’s next to me, and it’s like i can’t speak

she takes my hand, and i’ve awoken

but then when she leaves i feel broken

and i love the way she talks

and hate the way that she doesn’t want me to hear it

avoiding me and i have no idea why

because i just want to love her more than any other guy

drowning, drowning in everything she does

drowning, reaching just for her touch

and if she says one word

i’ll be breathing again

i’ll be breathing again

but without her, i question if i’ll feel this way about someone else again, and i know i can’t

“There’s a lot more,” Shawn said, and he was behind you now, watching you read his words from your shoulder. “You don’t have to read it all, though.”

You turned to him, inches away, his nose level with your eyes. “Why would you write this about me?” You set the book down on the table, looking back up from your shoes.

“Because,” He said, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I’m in love with you. We’re not even anything, and here I am, telling you that I can’t stop writing about you either because I’m in love with you, and I feel like I have since that first night of tour.” 

You were so close at this point, you could feel his breath when he sighed, moving his hands to your waist, unsure of his touch as they faltered along the hem of your jeans. It was like staring at him for eternity, looking into his amber eyes and feeling the hair on the nape of his neck. “Shawn, you’re not saying this all ‘cause you’ve drank, right?”

He laughed, surprised, “No, I’ve felt this forever. I think this was the catalyst, though,” He leaned his forehead against yours and shut his eyes. His eyelashes curled perfectly against his flushed face, dark brown on pink.

“Okay, good, because I think I want this.”

“You think?”

You nodded, “I know I do.” 

That was enough for him to tighten his hold around you, pulling you in for a sweet, slow kiss. He tasted bitter, beer on his lips, but all you were focused on was the fact that he was here with you. He was here with you, and a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and suddenly you weren’t so afraid anymore. You weren’t scared that he would break your heart. Because if he did, it would be mutual, in the most sadistic way of thinking of it. But you didn’t concern yourself with those thoughts for any longer as he parted from you, lips swollen already.

“Shawn?” You said again.

“Yeah?” He repeated.

“Happy birthday.”

“Shawn!” You giggled as he pushed you into his hotel room, shutting the door behind him. His face was flushed, yours too as he kept one arm hooked around his waist, kissing a line up your neck to your lips, “Shawn, hey, we can’t do this right now, we have to go to dinner!” Another chorus of giggles followed as he began to kiss a spot that made you ticklish. You had gone back on the road and a few days had passed since Shawn’s birthday.

“Dinner can wait,” He said, his lips on your skin muffling his voice. He had changed into some sweats and a black hoodie quickly after the concert, but his hair still smelled salty from the show. You, on the other hand, hadn’t even changed. Your jacket and black boots were thrown on the floor, but you still wore the dark green tank top you had on and black flannel pants. 

Shawn began to pull your ponytail loose, letting your hair cascade around you, and he brought his eyes to yours, moving you to the wall. “When will we tell them?” You asked Shawn, his pupils blown so much you could barely see his irises. The pause let you push a curl back off his forehead, your hand settling on his neck.

“I dunno, when do you feel like it?” He asked, “Because I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Let’s not take it too fast. Maybe another week?” You questioned, and he settled his hand on your waist, another on the wall behind you.

Shawn sighed, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering, “So we’re gonna sneak around? It’ll be our secret?” His breath was hot on your neck. You shivered.

“If you want it to be.”

“How exciting,” You could practically hear him smirk as he settled his lips back onto yours hotly. He groaned and you pushed him closer to you, almost tearing at his curls. Your face was burning now, and you could feel him push up against you painfully. In protest, he moved his face away from yours.

Your senses came back to you, overstimulated, “I should shower.”

Shawn nodded, “Okay. Let’s go.” 

You rolled your eyes, moving your hand to his, “A little too eager, huh?”

He didn’t answer you and just wrapped his arm around the small of your back, bringing you to the wall adjacent to the bathroom, settling himself between your legs. You got lost in him, consumed by the salty scent and mint shampoo and the burning tongues and icy touches on your skin. 

You heard the lock on his door begin to beep, and you jumped, his hand covering your mouth. It would’ve been attractive to you if you hadn’t considered the situation. “Hey!” Kit called from outside. “Can I come in?” The door began to crack open, and Shawn stretched his other hand to it, shutting it while one stayed on your lips.

“Um, no, I-I’m naked!” He replied, and your eyes widened at what he just implied.

“Oh, um, sorry man, didn’t mean to interrupt your momen-”

Shawn shook his head, ears turning pink, “Not like that! I’m gonna go into the shower!” His words came out of his mouth all at once, panicked. 

Kit nervously laughed, “Ohh! Alright, well, we’re leaving for dinner in ten.”

“M’kay,” His hand moved off your mouth, and you pushed yourself off the wall, “I’ll be down soon.”

“Alright, I’ll go tell Sticks,” You could hear his footsteps sounding down the hall. 

Your eyes widened, and you frantically thought of how you were gonna get there in time. You’d just go up the stairs, but it had to be fast. Shawn turned to you, “We’re not done with this,” He grinned, “‘Kay?”

You nodded, “I’ll make it up to you, promise,” and you felt a smile tug at your lips as you pecked his lips, grabbing your jacket and boots off the floor. You heard him laugh as you ran out the door in your socks, close to the stairway. Before you opened the door to the stairway, you saw him peeking his head out of his room.

“Fuck off.” You chuckled.

“What? I like looking at your backside.”

You rolled your eyes, flipping him off as you started to run up the stairway.

“You and Shawn seem good,” Alessia called from above you. You were in your bunk below her, a sleeping Simon and Kit opposite you. Both of you didn’t sleep well on the bus and often ended up talking. Shawn was in the back in his room, probably waiting for him to text you.

You moved on your back so you could see her peeking head in the blue-lighted darkness. “Yeah, um, we’ve settled our feelings.” You weren’t sure if you should tell her, even though you knew she wouldn’t say a word to anyone else.

“‘Settled your feelings?’ Is that a codeword for something?” You could hear her shift on her side and watched as she propped her head up on her hand.

Your breath hitched, but you fought against the tension in your chest. Fear. “Keep it to yourself for the time being, A, but we’re yes, we’re together.” 

“Yes! Ooh, how sneaky, keeping it a secret!” She sounded exactly like Shawn.

“It’s not like that, we just don’t want to cause drama, but we’ll probably tell everyone soon. We wanted one week at least.” You put your arms behind your head, covering yourself with your blanket. 

“To not tell anyone?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

It was silent, but Alessia broke it, “I’ve never seen him happier. You’re good for him, and he’s good for you.” 

“How is he good for me?” You ask, curious. Your phone buzzed at that moment, and you grabbed it, reading the message. Can you come here please? It was from Shawn.

“You calm each other. You think the same way and know how to comfort whatever you’re stressing about, I mean, I saw it before you were together. I just got the feeling it was more than that now. And when you talk about anything creative it’s like no one’s around.” She responded. You began to smile, and tore the sheets off your bed. “Where are you going?” You could see her face now, her hair tied back and a big sweater covering her.

“I’ll be back,” you stated, and she just wiggled her eyebrows at you. “What?”

She laughed softly, “Don’t come back too soon.”

“Shut up.” You replied, unable to keep the grin off your face. Tiptoeing down the bus hallway, you made it to the back where Shawn was. His room wasn’t big, and mostly was just a bed with a tiny space to walk next to. Opening the door, you walked in, the room only illuminated by the passing streetlights. They flashed yellow, so you could occasionally see Shawn’s form laying in the bed, back to you.

Moving to him, you carefully edged your way to the side, scared to fall from the moving bus. “Hi,” You said, and he turned around, eyes opening. They looked worried, and continued to as he moved to the wall next to the bed, letting you crawl in beside him. 

You propped your head on the pillow, staring at his face, illuminated yellow every few seconds. His eyes and messy hair glittered with the lights, but soon you hit a stretch of darkness from your surroundings outside. “Hey,” He replied as you felt his leg wrap around yours.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. You moved your hand to the halo of curls around his head, smoothing them back. He shut his eyes, breathing softly out of his mouth.

“I’m scared,” He said, “I feel like a fraud sometimes. Like I’m not good enough to have the life I have, and I feel like I can’t breathe when I think about it too hard.” You could see his eyes watering and see the restraint he held when trying not to cry. 

You shook your head, “I’ve felt that way too many times to count. I believe that you’re here, on this earth, for a reason. If you weren’t good enough to have the life you have, you wouldn’t bring so much joy to the people who love you and look up to you,” You calmly moved your hand to his cheek, wiping the tear pooled at his eye, “Whenever you feel that anxiety come in, take a deep breath and say, ‘I’m here for a reason. I matter.’”

He repeated after you, “I’m here for a reason. I matter.” You nodded, pulling him close to you and letting his head lie in the crook of your neck. You ran circles along his back, feeling him clutch onto your waist. “Where did you learn how to do that?” He asked, voice muffled.

A tug came to your lips, “My dad said the same thing to me when I had my shows.”

“He sounds amazing,” He whispered, “I want to meet him. Your mom, too.”

You chuckled softly, “Give it a few more weeks, rock star.”

He kissed your shoulder, bodies intertwined. Eventually, his breathing slowed and became more even, and you heard Alessia’s voice in your head; You calm each other. Somehow you got the feeling that no matter what happened you would always be there for him, and he would always be there for you. With those thoughts, your mind settled and you felt the warmth of sleep take you in gently.

Two Months Later

Everyone on tour knew about you and Shawn now, and nobody ever protested it. They all were happy for you both. Life had become easier as you adjusted your already similar schedules: waking up next to him was a dream, though the two of you hadn’t taken things farther than that. It never came up now that you were moving across countries and continents each day, exhausted and sleeping as soon as you got in the hotel room. 

Alessia was gone, and it felt not completely whole on tour without her. You totally loved Dan and Shay, but the two of you created such a bond that you often found yourself turning to your side to tell her something or laugh with her when she wasn’t even there. Missy had come, making Shawn’s life much easier with her incredible organization skills.

Today was going to be a fantastic day, you thought to yourself as you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was Halloween, and you didn’t think there was another better celebration than having a Halloween show in Melbourne. The fans in the Oceania part of the tour were like something out of a movie. The crowd felt unreal there.

Pulling the towel from your head, your hair fell down around your shoulders. Tonight everyone was going in costume, wearing 80s clothes, and you were delighted. The frantic colors and patterns were fun to wear, so you already began to change into your mom jeans, multi-colored striped top, and yellow bomber jacket. 

In less than twenty minutes, your hair was away from your face, in a crimped ponytail with a scrunchie and you wore yellow eyeshadow that rimmed your eyes with heavy mascara. Halloween was so exciting to you, and you honestly missed getting dressed up.

“You ready, love?” You could hear Shawn open the door to your room, and he walked into the bathroom, grinning when he saw your face. “I love it. You look totally rad! That’s what they said, right? Rad?”

You laughed, watching him at the door in the reflection of the mirror. He wore a multi-colored bomber jacket and some cargo pants with a neon headband, and he looked so happy. His lips were rosy, and you replied, “I’m pretty sure, don’t ask me though, I’m not that old.”

“You’re older than me.” He added.

You stuck your tongue out at him, “By one year.” You began to put your makeup brushes away, and paused, “Do you want to wear some eyeliner? It might look cool.” You held the black pen in front of your face.

“Sure, let’s try it,” He moved to the counter and stood in front of the sink, facing you. You held his chin in one palm while your steady hand brushed along the rim of his eye. “It feels weird,” he said in discomfort.

“You get used to it.” 

“You look so concentrated, it’s really cute.” He moved away from the eyeliner as you finished, setting it down on the counter. Snaking his arms around you, you settled your head against his sternum, feeling the solid-ness of him. “Let’s get going before Missy accuses us of ‘fooling around.’”

You felt a smile tug at your lips. “That woman talks like an old lady, I swear.”

He let go of you, “Don’t tell her that.”

Shawn’s leg kicks during Jesse’s Girl were absolutely adorable, you thought as the concert wrapped up. You, Kit, and Simon had thought up a dramatic introduction for him to come out of the stage on and it fit really well with the performance. 

Several hours later, you were on the plane, moving to the tour’s next location. Your flight anxiety was worse this time around, bad turbulence making you nauseous. Shawn had pressed your palms into his and rubbed your neck soothingly for what seemed like forever, and it wasn’t until the last two hours of the flight that he fell asleep. You felt bad for keeping him awake, but welcomed his sleepy head on your shoulder and the arm that fell across from you gladly. 

With your free arm (his arm kept your left one pinned down) you wrote some lyrics down in a notebook Alessia had given you on her last day of tour. It was a simple, black leather bound notebook, with yellow-ish lined pages. All you could write about were the same few themes: a feeling of falling, and then getting pulled back into someone’s grasp, or feeling so happy you were unsure it would last, lastly your main theme, of course; so many of the lyrics had been for the boy sleeping on you at the exact same time. Alessia told you to write down those feelings and keep them recorded so that one day you could look back on them, and smile at what you’d done and accomplished in your life.

Shawn had begun to stir from his sleep, mumbling incoherent words as he gripped the blanket on the both of you. You moved your hand, running it along his scalp calmly, “I love you,” you said, surprising yourself with what you just whispered to him. You had kept it in for so many months, terrified of coming to terms with it. Your lips trembled, scared to see his facial expression. 

His face was still unmoving with sleep, and you felt a breath come out of you. He didn’t hear you. But was that what you wanted? For him not to know how much you loved him?

December

Your apartment looked much less lonely now that Christmas decor had been almost bombarded on every surface; there were twinkly lights across your windows and on your kitchen counters, holiday pillows swapped for regular ones, and a white, red, and gold tree shining next to your couch. The cold time of year always made you the happiest, and you felt this elation course through your body almost every day.

A soft blanket and a mug of coffee kept you warm while you watched old cartoons on your tv, feeling nostalgic. Shawn was cooking in the kitchen while you rested. Lately, it seemed like the two of you barely spent a day apart, and it was hard for you to get anything done around him when all you wanted to do was be next to him. That’s what the holidays were for, you reminded yourself. It was easy to get swept up in a world of productivity. 

A smell of something savory wafted into the living area, and you turned your head away from the television to look at your boyfriend. He domestically had a rag on his shoulder while the sizzle of something sauteing in a pan and the chopping of a knife made you ask, “What’re you making?”

“It’s a secret,” You could see him grin as he moved to the fridge.

“You didn’t need to make anything,” You added.

He shrugged, turning his head to you, “I wanted to have a nice dinner with you tonight, and plus, you said we could watch Harry Potter, so this is my thank you.” You giggled, turning back to the screen to watch Charlie Brown having a snowball fight with his dog.

In a half-hour, plates were set on your seasonally-decorated dining table, and glasses of wine were filled for the two of you. Putting the utensils down next to each of your plates, Shawn sauntered up to the table and dramatically set down the serving plate, steaming with food. “Roasted chicken, sauteed with onions and vegetables,” Shawn grinned, looking at you expectantly as if he were on a cooking competition show. “Dessert is also a surprise.”

It tasted delicious; he really knew his way around the kitchen. Shawn blushed every single time you complemented the food, quite adorably, and soon enough the both of you had changed the subject to the Harry Potter movie you were going to watch.

“Okay, but the third is such a classic! It has the Marauders stuff happening and Lupin and it’s my favorite!” Shawn argued while the two of you gathered up your plates, walking to the sink. 

You shrugged, “Yes, but the fourth has the Triwizard Tournament, and we can’t forget about Cedric Diggory!”

Shawn snorted, “That’s because you have a weird obsession with Robert Pattinson, and you know it!” You laughed along with Shawn, unable to make a retort because you knew he was completely correct.

You gave in, opening the dishwasher, “Alright, alright, but we’re watching the fourth one soon.”

“M’kay, Bella Swan.”

You scoffed, slapping him with a dishrag, “How dare you compare me to her! She has the personality of a piece of paper!” He doesn’t reply, and just watches as you try to hide your giggles. There’s a strange silence and you can almost hear the ambience of the holidays in your ears.

Shaking his head, Shawn blurts, “I love you,” he said affectionately, almost as if he didn’t hear it, continuing to wash off the plates. He pauses, looking at you and coming to his senses, realizing what he said.

He hadn’t said it since his birthday. You hadn’t said it at all, save for that night on the plane, but he wasn’t even awake. But somehow you felt an overwhelming feeling come over you, and on instinct you replied, “I love you too.” 

Shawn takes his hands away from the sink. “You do?” His face looks vulnerable, and a hand reaches out to stabilize himself on the counter. All you can do is nod. “Yeah?” He questions again, and you set your rag down on the counter, taking his face in your palms and kissing him as passionately as you can.

The two of you part, “Yeah, I do. ‘Guess I was too scared to say it ‘till now.” You reply as his arms loop around your waist.

“Why would you be scared?” He brings your body closer to him.

“When I love people, I’m scared of losing them,” You mutter under your breath, but he heard you anyway. 

He pushes a piece of hair behind your ear, “You’re never going to lose me,” His eyes darken, almost looking pained as he brings his lips to yours again, and you get lost in the taste of him, the smell of him. You can feel his arms slide from your waist to your thighs, and he hikes you up onto the counter. Your fingers rake across his scalp, feeling the heat coming off of his neck, coursing through his body. “I promise.” He says, a pause between kissing you.

The smell of cinnamon and linen welcomes you as he carries you into your bedroom, the curtains shut and the city lights streaming through the bedroom. There’s a lamp on your bedside table, emanating a warm glow. You feel his frame crawl over you, and it’s like the two of you are in a movie. Perfect, cold-weathered lighting, the smell of Christmas, and the hot-and-cold prickly feeling that comes when you pull off your sweater. His face is flushed, rosy cheeks and lashes feathering his cheekbones. He looks at you carefully, almost lost in thought.

You bring your face to his, meticulously playing at the seams of his shirt, kissing him slowly and softly. You can hear a soft moan come from his lips, setting you on your back as he touches what seems like every nerve in your body. “I love you.” He repeats for what seems like forever, almost like he wants you to believe it absolutely. 

And you want him to believe it, too, trading the same three words over and over again until you fall asleep holding each other. Strangely, when sleep comes and you’re in your dreams, an old Greek myth that your father told you comes to mind. When pairs of people were one, they didn’t need any other person. They were attached to each other. But when Zeus, King of the Gods separated them, those people, the human race, spent their entire lives looking for their other half. They needed to be with each other so they could be complete. 

When you wake up for a moment, lost in the thought of the myth, you look up and see Shawn, curly hair messy and his head in the crook of your neck. You think of the pairs, needing each other to survive. He never lets go. 

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[oncexinxmyxdreams]

OC Profile

Lydia Venkman (The Real Ghostbusters.)

Bio

Name: Lydia Molly (O’Connor) Venkman 

Age: 22 when Peter was born and passed away at 32. 

Ethnicity: Caucasian with her both sides of her family having descended from Irish Immigrants back in the 1840s. 

Species: Human.

Height: 5'5 

Weight: 120 pounds. 

Hair color: Dark brown. 

Hair style: Used to be very long, almost to her waist until she cut it short into a flipped bob during the 1960s. She grew it back out before she passed.

Eye color: Green. 

Birthday: September 23rd, 1936. 

Gender: Female.

Sexual Orientation: Straight.

Powers (if any): No. 

Distinguishing features (if any): Lower lip was fuller than top and had an oval shaped face. Jim said she looked like the actress Natalie Wood. 

Blood Type: A- 

Clothing

Day to day outfit: Simple dresses with flared skirts and a sash. Think 1950s-early 1960s style. Wore simple flats with them. On weekends, she wore simple trousers and tucked in blouses. 

Pajamas/What they wear to bed: Plain white nightgowns.

Formal Clothes: Most formal that Lydia owned was her wedding dress: a lacy A-line gown with matching jacket.

Work/School uniform: Being a teacher, just simple nice dresses and pumps.  

Other (glasses, jewelry, etc): Liked wearing ribbons for headbands. Single solitaire wedding ring. A Claddagh ring which was the only family keepsake she took when she married Jim. He gave her necklaces and bracelets, but Lydia sold them to make ends meet. 

Health

Physical Illnesses: Weakened Immune System where she usually gets sick easily and for long. Suffers from a severe case of pneumonia.

Mental Illnesses or disorders: Depression.

Medications?: Antidepressant and usual medicines when she became sick, ex. cough syrup, Tylenol etc.   

Addictions (Drugs, alcohol?): No. With her weakened immune system she’s careful about addictions.  

General Health: Its decent enough, but in her early 30s she becomes more sick from living in bad conditions, her weakened immune system  and her lungs not being strong enough. Body shape is rectangular: 32-26-34 and around size 8.   

Life/Preferences:

Likes: Teaching, fantasy books, tea, cooking, and spending time with her son.

Dislikes: Dishonesty, depression, getting sick and Jim’s bad ideas. 

Career: Elementary teacher.

Hobbies/Talents: Reading was her main hobby. Used to ride horses back in Montana, but eventually grew a new hobby of collecting teacups as she moved around. Talented in piano.  

Habits (good or bad): Chewed bottom lip when stressed and twirled hair when writing.

Family: Parents were Joseph and Naomi O’Connor. Lydia had 8 brothers. She was closest to older four: Phillip, Benjamin, Andrew and Daniel. All a year apart. Four younger brothers, are sets of twins: Jacob and Jeremiah came along when she was 3. Then Simon and Silas arrived when she was 4. Had an aunt named Molly that passed shortly before her birth and that's how she got her middle name.

Friends: Not many. Had some nice neighbors at times. She considered her big brothers as her closest friends.

Romantic/Love Interest(s): Mainly Jim Venkman, but its caused her problems.

Pets: Her childhood cat named Copper: He was a European Shorthair breed with deep brown fur. Her family had horses, but her favorite was Valor: An American Quarter Horse with a blue roan coat.

Social Status: Lower class.

Favorite Food: Colcannon Irish potatoes. 

Favorite Color: Forest green. 

Favorite genre of music: Folk music.

Favorite movie genre: She didn’t see too many movies having only theaters at the time. Cinderella, Lady and the Tramp, An American in Paris and 20,000 Leagues under the Sea were her favorite movies in theaters. 

Favorite Animal: Elk. She loved seeing them in Montana. Interestingly, elk are considered as a symbol of protection.

Degree of Education: High school graduate and earned a teacher’s certificate. 

What language(s) can they speak?: English and a decent amount of Irish. 

Can they cook?: Absolutely. 

Personality

Positive Traits: Warm, devoted, thoughtful, altruistic and creative. 

Negative Traits: Self-critical, self-conscious and sometimes closed off from others.

Archetype: The Mother Figure like Perdita in 101 Dalmatians or Mrs. Brisby from The Secret of Nimh.

Way they interact with others: Very reserved when first meeting. It takes a good while to get to know her.

Way of speaking: Voice inspiration for her is the late actress Elizabeth Hartman. (Yeah, Mrs. Brisby's voice actor because she has a certain blend of vulnerability and strength which I think fits Lydia well.)

Introvert or Extrovert?: Introvert. Not sure where she'd fall for MBTI, but my thought is INFP.

Backstory 

 Lydia was born in Williston, North Dakota and was the first daughter for her family. Lydia had a weakened immune system and got sick easily throughout her life. When Lydia was 9 months old, her family moved to Libby, Montana to be near her mother's aging parents. It was intended for the family to move back to Williston, but they all fell in love with Montana and never left. Living on farmland, Lydia spent free time with her brothers: they rode horses, went fishing, climbed trees and camped in the summer. Being outside helped her stay healthy. Lydia went to a small school and only enjoyed storybooks. All other subjects were hard and the teachers were cold hearted which made Lydia feel inferior. As she grew, she visited the library more often and her learning skills improved. Her favorite books were Ivanhoe, The Iliad, The Odyssey and The Hobbit. (She loved The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia when they were first published.) After graduating high school, she earned a teacher's certificate with the goal to help children learn in better ways than she did. However, she also desired to have adventures one day even if she wasn’t sure how it’d go. That started changing when she met Jim Venkman. 

 Jim was a couple years older than Lydia and resided in Montana to hideout from his recent problems. It was love at first sight for him and Lydia grew to love him after several outings. Jim promised Lydia "all her dreams." Her parents, didn't approve Jim because they found him sleazy and doubted it was really love. Her brothers, all younger and older, weren’t sure about Jim and always felt genuine protection for their only sister. Lydia constantly argued with her mother in particular and finally, her parents threatened to disown her. Young, wanting adventure, and thinking she knew best, Lydia left with Jim. She did teach and found creative ways to help her students learn. However, Lydia missed her family and months in the marriage, found herself miserable. Jim was going back and forth with "jobs" and while inadvertent, seemed to take her for granted. Lydia became severely depressed: she felt trapped, dissatisfied and worst of all, lonely. Not introverted/like the quiet, solitude loneliness. It was an abandoned loneliness. That ended after a doctor's appointment where she discovered she was expecting. She gave birth in a quick labor and was with happy tears to have her son. Since Jim wasn't there and difficult to contact, Lydia spent five days with just her baby. Instead of going with Jim's desires to name a son James Jr., she chose Peter. Despite the sudden moving back and forth, financial issues, working overtime to make ends meet and frustration with her husband, Lydia loved Peter more than anything. She did all she could to give him a good childhood. That all came to a crushing end, when she became terribly sick with pneumonia and passed away. She was 32 and Peter was only 10.

Life Goals

Lydia desired to have adventures in her life even if she was fragile. She wanted to believe the best in people and planned to teach for her career. When she became a mother, Lydia's goals all went to her son and that became the adventure of her life; one she wouldn’t change despite the hardships. When Lydia was told her pneumonia was getting worse and survival was decreasing, she imagined what would happen for Peter: Would he go to college? What would be his career? Would he find love? Have his own kids? For her it was unknown, but in all, she hoped he would be surrounded with stable, caring, enjoyable friendships/family members. She'd been happy to know that did come true.

#the real ghostbusters #OC #lydia venkman #peter venkman #fanfic #fanfiction #i'll do some flashback stuff with her #adult laurie's bio is still in the works #mama venkman

[darkheartedprince]

VERSE ADDITION: BLUE EYES AND BLACK JEANS

Primarily exists for promisedsanctum, waywardhearts, and lightheartedwarrior but anyone can interact with him in this verse.

In a world without far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells and princes in disguise, Riku continued to grow up in his normal life. Now in his last year of high school, Riku is arguably the coolest kid in school -- not that he sees it that way. He’s dating Sora, who’s brother Roxas couldn’t be less excited about but Riku doesn’t care because he loves Sora to the end of the universe and back. His blue eyes shine against his black leather jacket, black jeans, and classic converse sneakers as he patiently waits to graduate high school. 

Riku drives a black and silver Harley Davidson motorcycle as well as a red and blue pan chopper motorcycle to and from school. He loves both of them more than life itself. He doesn’t let anyone ride them unless he really likes you or he really trusts you. Don’t worry, he practices safety with fingerless leather gloves, a helmet, and a  black leather jacket. Motorcycles are pictured HERE.

His entire left arm is a sleeve of tattoos that tell the story of daring adventures into the unknown complete with stars, planets, and oceans and new horizons. His Dream Eater tattoo is on his back, but he just thinks it’s a cool symbol he saw in a book once. His right bicep has a band of crossing lines that look like they form loose hearts. 

Riku has facial piercings. He has a lip piercing on the left side of his bottom lip, an eyebrow piercing on his left eyebrow, both of his ears pierced in the lobes and his right ear also has an industrial piercing.

Riku is always seen with over-the-ear headphones around his neck. He’s never without his music, it’s how he drowns out the world. He also does this because any time he has a song he wants to show someone {usually Sora or Kairi} Riku can just put his headphones on them and make them listen. 

Black skinny jeans, black leather jackets, and converse high tops that are black and white or all black are Riku’s entire fashion aesthetic. V-neck t-shirts or long sleeves with the sleeves rolled, a chain always hangs attached to his back belt loop and latches onto the front belt loop on his right hip, beanies, the black leather cuffs and bracelets on either of his wrists, chokers and necklaces, band t-shirts, etc. All of those things and more create Riku’s day to day style. 

TW:SMOKING. A lighter can always be found on Riku because he smokes cigarettes, but he never does it around people in case they have a problem with it.  He will always walk away to smoke or distance himself from people until he is done before returning to them.  

Sora is one hundred percent the strawberry to Riku’s cigarette and the candy to his lighter. They are opposites, and while he knows that people talk about them because they don’t seem like a likely pair Riku doesn’t care because he absolutely loves Sora inside and out. 

On the opposite, Riku hates Sora’s brother Roxas because he and Roxas constantly fight one another. It’s argument after argument that never stop. Passive-aggressive dinners, jabs at one another at school, the whole nine yards. It is rare that these two are never fighting. 

Speaking of fighting, Riku gets into fights at school. Often. Whether it’s because people are ragging on Sora, people are being terrible, people are making fun of him, or all of the above, Riku has a reputation for beating up people who say anything bad against the things in his life.

Despite how it might appear, however, Riku is at the top of his class for his grades. He takes his academics very seriously. Every assignment is done with precision and very thoroughly so that he can have the best marks amongst his peers. 

In the good old war of Playstation versus Xbox, Riku prefers the Playstation. He has a PS4 and, when it comes out, he plans to save up to get a PS5. 

Riku definitely picks out the colour of Sora’s braces rubber bands every time that Sora asks. Without fail, Riku always chooses bright aquamarine blue so that they match his eyes and so that every time Sora looks in a mirror and smiles he thinks of him. 

He’s known as the strong, silent, mysterious crown prince of his school, but this holds true no matter what verse he is in. 

His hobbies include drawing, listening to music, reading, writing poetry, taking walks along the beach, and playing video games. He likes hobbies that allow him to drown out the world and go other places for a short while. 

Some of Riku’s favourite bands and music artists include {but are not limited to}: Disturbed, The Beatles, Lewis Capaldi, All Time Low, 5 Seconds of Summer, My Chemical Romance, Counting Crows, Bowling for Soup, Neon Trees, Cinema Bizarre, Tycho, Chris Young, Never Shout Never, Augustana, Queen, Bullet For My Valentine, Framing Hanley, Elvis Presley, Landon Pigg, The Higher, Keane, The Killers, AFI, Troye Sivan, Simon Curtis, Point North, Halsey, Gabbie Hanna, Breaking Benjamin, Secondhand Serenade, Marilyn Manson, and Hollywood Undead.

Because Riku loves music so much, he always sends people songs to listen to. These songs don’t always have to relate to their relationship {whatever that may be}. Sometimes, he just sends them songs because he thinks that they’ll like them but other times he’ll send songs because they fit a certain situation or feeling. After all, music speaks when words fail. 

Nail polish? Definitely. Riku’s nails are always painted solid black or dark blue to match the night sky. He paints them himself.

Riku doesn’t care for junk food much, but sometimes he helps himself to Oreos, cookies and cream ice cream, cheese and pineapple pizza, or some cool ranch Doritos. He prefers savoury to sweet, as a whole when it comes to his snacking habits.

All of the furniture in his room is black. The walls that are painted white are covered from top to bottom in vintage movie posters, album artwork from vinyl records, video game posters, band posters, you name it. His bedding is dark indigo blue with black, grey and white plaid accents. He has a bookshelf filled from top to bottom with his favourite vintage cds, video games, books, and a picture of him, his mom, and his dad from when he was five. His window has indigo blue curtains that have plaid details just like his bedding. His backpack resides on a hook near his bedroom door. 

Riku has a beta fish that is black and blue that he has named Ansem because he reminds him of a ghostly spirit. Ansem sits in a fishbowl on Riku’s desk. 

He absolutely loves movies, especially older movies. He loves classic things as a whole.  His favourite movies include {but are not limited to by any means}: Jaws, Titanic, The Ring, Grease, West Side Story, The Breakfast Club, and {though it’s not completely vintage} Star Wars. He also likes movies that take places from vintage eras even if they aren’t filmed in that era like, Call Me By Your Name, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Love Simon, The Time Traveler’s Wife, and Across the Universe. He doesn’t have one specific movie type that he goes to more than others, but he is always drawn to movies based on books.

**Headcanons can be found HERE. As always, they will constantly be added to.

#x. s h a d o w s f l y | o o c #x. w h e r e t h e r e i s l i g h t t h e r e i s d a r k n e s s | h e a d c a n o n s

[gwaciechang]

Love Run (9/15)

“And as the world comes to an end I’ll be here to hold your hand ‘Cause you’re my king and I’m your lionheart.”

This chapter is written entirely from Bobby’s POV and will contain no fluff whatsoever. Spoilers for the episode “Run Rabbit Run” of Stan Lee’s Lucky Man are all over this part. I’ve also tried my best to be inclusive by avoiding Robin’s name, and by using gender neutral pronouns whenever possible, which might not be the pronouns you use. I’ve also changed Chloe’s name to Maisie because “Chloe Choi” looks super weird to me when it’s written out. There is also a near-relapse for Bobby, as well as references to a stabbing murder, implications of prostitution, mention of human trafficking, and implications of dismemberment.

@wackiekebab @sunflowergrlpwr @danilanidingdong @scratching-wingless-thing @farewellfelidae @whatevermonkey @the-winter-witcher  

Bobby jerked up at the sound of the gunshot, heart almost ready to pound out of his chest. He strained his ears, but he couldn’t hear anyone over the screaming of other people who also heard the gunshot. It took one count of six off the bed, two counts of six to the door, three counts of six down the stairs, and four counts of six to the tire tracks and glitter on the ground. It took nine counts of ten before he could kneel down and pick up the pieces of Robin’s phone.

One, two, three, four-wait. He looked at the pieces in his hand. Except for the glass screen, they were all whole. Phones don’t shatter like that, he thought, breaking into their individual components. Someone specifically designed this phone to break in a way that, if he could put all the pieces back together, would be returned to perfect working order. He spent nearly three hundred counts looking for the pieces before going back inside.

The world fell away, silent, as he worked. By the time the sun came up, he realized he didn’t have the SD card. But he couldn’t possibly have missed it, he’d practically combed the ground. Just as he was about to go back outside and look for it again, the phone rang.

Without the memory card of stored contacts, the screen just showed the number, so he had no idea who he was answering. “Hello?”

“Robert Hayes, where the fuck is my youngest sibling?”

His throat closed up at the idea of talking to a lady he’d never met. But Maisie had agreed to store hard drugs, to lend her car to take him to a methadone clinic, and most importantly, had previously gone to extraordinary lengths to find the person he was looking for, too. “Someone with a gun took them. I didn’t see who, I just heard the gunshot, and there are tire tracks next to where I found the pieces of their phone. I didn’t find any blood,” He could feel bruises forming on his arms from how hard he was tapping.

Someone typed frantically on the other side of the line. “Turn your computer on.”

“W-what?” he had been expecting her to scream abuse at him, to which he would respond with endless apologies.

Maisie hissed something under her breath before saying, “You put the phone together, so you’re clearly very good at technology. You looked for blood on the ground, so you care about Robin’s wellbeing. Now, go to your lab or office or whatever, and turn your computer on. I’ve just emailed you a map of the area with convenience stores and banks highlighted, since they’re the most likely to have working security cameras. I already logged the kidnapping with the MET and I’m in the process of registering myself as lead investigator, so I need you to make a detective inspector’s ID for me. You can pull any picture of me within the year.”

“How did you-”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, have the footage loaded and ready.”

Having clear instructions helped immensely. He knew how to hack into cameras, he knew how to analyze security camera footage, and he knew how to make fake identification cards. He would be able to help Maisie find Robin, because the alternative was unacceptable. 99% of kidnappings ended in death within 24 hours, and the clock was ticking.

The camera from the front gate ran out of battery in the middle of his download.

The footage from the bank was useless, due to a large food truck passing in front of the camera.

The footage from the first convenience store was useless because of the same food truck. The camera from second convenience store was knocked into a different angle before he could see anything useful. When he got to the footage from the third store and discovered some sort of interference distorting it, he stood up to go to Maisie’s car for his emergency stash.

“Robert, I’m coming in,” Maisie called as she unlocked the door. Bobby felt angry for a second before relief flooded his system. She’d probably saved his life, and Robin’s, by extension.

Bobby checked the time. “You’re late,” he said. “You said twenty minutes, that was more than forty minutes ago. Do you not care?”

“I had to see a friend,” she said cryptically. “You have the footage?”

“Yes, and I’ve isolated the time frame we need, but they’re all obscured.” He’s tapping and counting, everything smelled like blood, any second Pearl was going to ask what was wrong with him, and once she knew she wouldn’t allow him to help her look for Robin, and he couldn’t-

“What do you mean, obscured?” Maisie motioned for him to sit down next to her without making a single move to touch him.

“There’s always something blocking it, or moving the camera. Here, some bird knocked into the camera. Here, there’s interference from a different device. Here, here, and here, there’s a food truck!” his voice echoed off the wall. Oh god, he’d been shouting.

“Show me the last one with the delivery truck,” Maisie spoke like he hadn’t said anything. “Aaaaaand pause, look,” she pointed to the reflection of the cars on the other side of the food truck from the store across the street. “Screenshot all those license plates.”

Bobby just stared at her for a few seconds. Was this what it felt like to have a reasonable voice in one’s head, instead of a voice that screamed out for heroin?

“Now, please,” she didn’t raise her voice, but it echoed through his head all the same, and he could only obey. It only took a few seconds, which he felt a little bit proud of. “Do you have a way of finding out who drives each of those vehicles from here?” she asked once he was done.

“I can find out from here,” he was already running the program when he spoke.

“I need to make a call. And don’t bother trying to take your heroin while I’m gone, I already went into my car and put it where you’ll never find it. Well, probably,” Maisie took out her phone and pressed a single key. “Laurie? It’s Maisie Choi. I need you to listen carefully.”

The rest of the conversation was too muffled to hear, but Bobby didn’t care, because he had a list of several names. He pulled out his phone and dialed the nice detective.

“Is everything alright, son?”

“Robin’s been kidnapped. There was a gunshot, but I don’t think it hit them. I’ve got their sister here, and we’re looking together. I’ve used the license plate to match owners with cars that drove near the apartment complex.” He left out the bit about the detective’s badge, he didn’t think Harry would approve of it as much.

“Who’s on your list?”

“Um, Alice North, Daniel Simon, Pierre Aladin, Connor Anderson-”

“Go back, what was that last one? Before Connor?”

“Pierre Aladin.”

“Send me that list, and don’t do anything until I get there.”

“Toss that idea right in the trash, Det. Clayton,” Maisie suddenly took the phone from Bobby. “We don’t have time to wait for you to meet with Elsa and then come here. We’ll go to you.”

“Who are you?” Harry demanded.

“I’m looking for a bracelet to match my hairpin,” Maisie said before twisting her necklace.

Bobby’s call cut out.

“Laurie hasn’t heard from Pierre for a few hours, ever since somebody broke into their apartment this morning. Interesting, huh?” Maisie smiled knowingly.

“You have a signal jammer in your necklace.” Bobby’s eyes flicked up to the pink butterfly on her hair. “Is your hairpin another signal jammer?”

“No,” she took it off so Bobby could see the USB drive under the center pearl. “There’s a tracker on Robin’s phone, attached to-”

“To the SD card,” Bobby made to snatch the hairpin out of her hand, but she moved her wrist at the last second and stuck the drive into the computer herself, and she kept her hand on it the whole time. “Why didn’t you say you could just find them?”

“I needed to know who took Robin in order to know how to move forward, and I need a way to keep you busy, so you didn’t overdose in my car,” her voice was ice-cold.

“I wouldn’t, not when,” his throat closed up before he could finish. He almost had. “How did you know Pierre Aladin was involved?” he asked instead.

“I’ve cleaned up enough of his hits that I know what kind of car he drives,” she said absently, focusing on the shrinking dot on the screen until it pinged an exact location. “Give me a plastic bag for this,” she said, producing a bloody cleaver out of nowhere. “They’re in the cabinets under the counter, to the right of the sink. And if there’s any liquid left in the green bottle with the words you can’t read, pour it out so Robin needs to go out and get better wine. Wow, this is a very good badge,” she pocketed the fake ID he made. “Come on, chop chop,” she clapped as best she could while one hand was wrapped around a giant knife when she noticed he was staring.

He decided not to ask about the knife and just do what she said.

“Thanks,” she said, now with her hair tied back and two pink pearls dangling from her ears. “Let’s go,” she motioned with a hand holding a piece of folded paper.

Rather than walk toward where her car was parked, Maisie went to where several men had just finished loading the garbage truck and hopped in the back. She cleared a space for him and motioned for him to sit down, something he wouldn’t have done if he hadn’t essentially spent the last two days covered in various bodily fluids of his own and Robin’s.

“Why are we taking the garbage truck?” Bobby asked as he settled in.

“Because we need to pick up your friend,” Maisie responded cryptically. She didn’t say another word, preferring to twist her earrings.

“We’re wasting time!” Bobby finally exploded. He was getting itchy. “They could be doing anything to Robin!”

“They’re not,” she closed her eyes and gestured to her earrings.

Bobby stared at her until he understood. “You can hear them.”

Maisie hummed her assent and closed her eyes as a man fell somewhere behind Bobby. “We picked up your friend,” she said by way of explanation. “Please don’t interfere,” she said. “I’m trying to do you several favors.”

Bobby twisted his head to see Harry looking just as bewildered as he felt.

“And what favors are those?” Harry asked warily.

“Sheldon Blake, for one. And the stabbing at The Catalyst is also of interest to you, isn’t it?” Maisie smiled at Harry’s gobsmacked face.

“Do you know everything that happens?” he asked suspiciously.

“This is our stop,” Maisie linked Bobby’s arm with hers and hopped off the truck, steadying him when he almost fell. A flop and a groan a few seconds later let Bobby know that Harry was following them to the building that seemed abandoned, except for a single man in a blue tweed jacket and a surprising amount of makeup at the door.

“Hello,” the man waved cheerfully.

“Hello,” she purred back, nearly draping her body over his. “And who might you be?”

“Dixie,” he answered with an easy grin.

“What a beautiful name!” Maisie stepped back and showed him her badge. “Now, Dixie, would you mind taking me and my friends inside?”

Dixie swallowed. “I-I can’t-”

“You won’t get in trouble,” all the fake seduction fell away, replaced by soft concern. She whispered something in his ear before unfolding the paper she had taken from Robin’s apartment. “Go to this address right here and tell Shelley King that a friend of Laurie’s sent you. He’ll let you in. And then tell him the knife is in Callum Ballimore’s apartment.”

Dixie gave her an odd look, but didn’t leave even when Maisie gestured for him to go. “Miss, I don’t mean to insult you, but do you know what’s in there?” he asked, pointing his thumb to the building behind him.

“A human trafficking operation, right? One that took in two very willful people today as punishment for aiding investigations into Sheldon Blake.”

Harry gasped and stiffened next to Bobby, who felt like he might faint. He’d known Robin had been kidnapped for what he helped Harry with, but hearing it spelled out made him want to shower until he flayed himself.

Wait, two people?

“But here’s what he doesn’t understand: the past catching up to you refers to both your enemies coming to harm you and your friends coming to rescue you. There’s no sadness without joy, too. Now, let Shelley protect you and extend my apologies for making him do this again.”

This time, when Maisie pointed, Dixie ran.

#into the joeyverse #bobby hayes #lucky man fanfiction #joey i am literally begging you not to look through this tag

[gildedcrown]

@goldcnvictory​ asked:  hey. remember i love you. now do numbers 1-40 of the mlm asks for raihan -

(CHALLENGE ACCEPTED)

Do you like resting your head in a boys lap, or on his shoulder?

“I’d like to say both, but it’s just easier for me to rest my pretty head against some nice legs. Stretch my neck too much trying to rest on his shoulder.”

Sweaters or hoodies?

“Hoodies, mate. Isn’t that obvious?”

Netflix or clubbing on a Friday night?

“Oh, netflix for sure. Don’t get me wrong, I love clubbin’, but it’s more fun with friend, you know? Much rather sit around with my Pokemon and binge the latest shows or movies.”

Denim or leather jackets?

“Now that’s a hard one. I can rock both, let’s be honest. I’ve got a handful of both, so I don’t think I can choose one or the other.”

What’s your favorite thing about boys?

“Voice and eyes. Got a bit of a thing for some well trimmed facial hair too. Get a guy who has all three and I think I’ll be sold.”

How do you like your tea?

“Believe it or not, I like my tea pretty plain. Can’t drink black tea though, that’s just too bitter. Prefer something with a little bit of spices added to it.”

How do you like your coffee?

“Now this is where I add the cream and sugar. I like to sweeten my coffee a bit, I feel like it helps me wake up better.”

Favorite fall color?

“Well that’s easy, orange!”

Can you drive?

“Sure I can. Got a bike in my garage I ride every once in awhile.”

Do you have a crush?

“You mean like pinin’ for your best mate and rival for a little under ten years? Sure we can say that I do.”

What’s your favorite sport?

“I mean battlin’ is more my thing, but I enjoy some football every now and then.”

Are you a pastel, neon, or neutral color mlm?

“Pastels or neutral colors. I’m more likely to lean more towards neutral though.”

Do you wear makeup?

“Not really. Maybe if it’s for a special event or somethin’. Know how to apply it and all that, I’ve got two sisters after all. I can apply a mean cat eye if I do say so myself!”

Do you like boys taller or shorter than you?

“Kind of hard for me to find someone taller than me. Even if there was, I prefer guys shorter than I am.”

Do you prefer hand kisses, or nose kisses?

“Both! I like givin’ out nose kisses all the time, and hand kisses make things ten times more intimate.”

What’s your favorite cologne smell?

“Hm...probably sandalwood. Or some kind of campfire smell.”

Ideal date?

“That would depend on who my date is. Everyone’s presence is different. But if I can manage it, probably a stroll through Hammerlocke at night.”

What’s more romantic: cabin getaway, or tropical vacation?

“Again, think it depends on who I’m with. I’m more likely to choose tropical, love me a bit of sun and beaches. But I wouldn’t be against going to a cabin getaway in the mountains or somethin’.”

What’s your favorite mlm movie?

“Love Simon made me cry like a bitch, so I’d say that one’s a good contender.”

Do you believe in love at first sight?

“Kind of? I think that love at first sight is a thing, but I haven’t met anyone who’s ever experienced it.”

Have you ever been in love?

“...Yeah, I think I’m good, what’s the next question?”

Do you like sitting in a boys lap, or do you prefer when a boy sits in yours?

“I’m pretty tall, so it’s a little hard for me to sit in a guys lap. If I can, then I wouldn’t mind it. It’s never happened before, so I guess I’m more inclined to say a guy sittin’ in my lap.”

Metal or cloth bracelets?

“Work with a lot of weather tactics, so I prefer wearing cloth bracelets. I’ve got a few metal ones, but they’re mostly for fancier occasions.”

What’s one of your favorite memories of being in love?

He’s looking at his Rotom Phone. Not bothering to answer that one.

Do you tilt your head to the left or right when you kiss?

“Huh, never thought about it before. Probably to the left?”

Would you like to take his last name when you marry?

“Eh, it depends. If he wants to take my last name or not. I’m more likely to suggest combining the two.”

Do you want kids?

“Not sure, if I’m bein’ honest. I’m pretty good around kids, but it’s a little hard imaginin’ myself with a few of my own.”

Do you interlock fingers when you hold hands?

“That’s the best part of holding hands!”

What’s a compliment you’d love to receive from a boy?

“I don’t know, something about my personality, maybe. Or something that they only see and know about. Get too many compliments and insults on the regular online. I’d like to hear something that I haven’t shown to the public.”

What’s better, waking up to him in the morning, or falling asleep next to him at night?

“Waking up to him in the mornin’. If I actually wake up earlier than he does, it’s fun just to watch him sleep.”

Any turn offs?

“Anything remotely to do with my fame or public image. Can’t stand that. I’d rather somebody date me for me, you know?”

What makes you blush?

“Honesty, if I had to pick.”

Coffee shop or dog park date?

“Oh, that’s easy, Poke Park! Get to walk all my little Goomies and Trapinch and spend time with my date.”

Big spoon or little spoon?

“Big spoon for sure.”

What first catches your eye?

“His smile.”

Would you enjoy it if he bought you flowers?

“I don’t any of the meanings, but yeah. My mums buy each other flowers all the time. Kind of hard not to wish for that too after seein’ them light up after gettin’ a bouquet of them.”

Do you think matching couple outfits are cute or cheesy?

“If you think for a second that I wouldn’t be the first to have matchin’ couples outfits you’d be wrong. I will absolutely go out of my way to have matchin’ outfits.”

Have you ever asked a boy out?

“A few times, yeah.”

Which is cuter, him being confident, or shy?

“He’s confident almost all the time. Kind of has to be for bein’ in the spotlight all day long. He’s cuter when he’s shy, not really able to tell me what he wants or needs. Even if he’s inexperienced, that just makes him even cuter.”

What’s one of your fave love songs?

“How cheesy would it be to say ‘Beauty and the Beast’?”

#goldcnvictory #♔ asks . ( raihan ) #♔ headcanons . ( raihan ) #IT'S DONE #I DID IT

[wordtotherose]

100 Ways To Say I Love You - Halfway Point Masterpost

Here’s your easy to use masterpost for all 50 fanfics so far in the series. More under the cut!

1. Pull Over, Let Me Drive For A While

Magnus and Alec are driving in the car. Fluffiness ensues. - By Essiee

2. It Reminded Me Of You

Alec's eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue and it's something Magnus loves. - By Essiee

3. No, No, It’s My Treat

Alec takes Magnus on a coffee date. - By Guardian_Rose

4. Come Here. Let Me Fix It

Alec's bow is broken in a hunt and Magnus is there to help. - By Essiee

5. I’ll Walk You Home

Alec doesn't like the thought of leaving his boyfriend to walk home on his own. - By Guardian_Rose

6. Have A Good Day At Work

Alec leaves a note for Magnus - By Guardian_Rose

7. I Dreamt Of You Last Night

Alec dreams of Magnus and they are sappy romantics. - By Guardian_Rose

8. Take My Seat

Alec goes to visit Magnus's loft after training. - By Guardian_Rose

9. I Saved A Piece For You

Isabelle makes a cake and Alec decides it is time for Magnus to be introduced to his sister's cooking. -  By Guardian_Rose

10. I’m Sorry For Your Loss

Magnus wakes up to find Alec and his mother arguing in the loft's living room. He gets protective. -  By Guardian_Rose

11. You Can Have Half

Alec gets drunk and misses Magnus so he just lets himself into the Warlock's loft. -  By Guardian_Rose

12. Take My Jacket, It’s Cold Outside

Magnus and Alec fight after a disastrous dinner date. -  By Guardian_Rose

13. Sorry I’m Late

Magnus gets caught up in his thoughts while doing his makeup and ends up late for his date with Alec. -  By Essiee

14. Can I Have This Dance

Magnus and Alec go dancing and share a quiet moment together. -  By Essiee

15. I Made Your Favourite

Magnus picks Alec and Isabelle from the Institute to portal them to the loft for a movie night with the rest of the shadowhunters/downworlders. Fluff ensues.

Mentions of a previous fic but all you need to know is that they had a fight and have made up. -  By Guardian_Rose

16. It’s Okay, I Couldn’t Sleep Anyway

Magnus is lost in his thoughts instead of sleeping when he gets a phone call from Alec. -  By Essiee

17. Watch Your Step

It's far too early for Alec to be awake and Magnus knows it. -  By Guardian_Rose

18. Here, Drink This. You’ll Feel Better

Alec is injured in a battle and Magnus gets quite protective before feeling guilty over not keeping his boyfriend completely safe from harm.

Happy ending with pancakes! -  By Guardian_Rose

19. Can I Hold Your Hand

Alec waits while Magnus and Catarina argue in the living room. At 3am.

It's not the way Alec was hoping his day would start if he was being honest.  -  By Guardian_Rose

20. You Can Borrow Mine

Magnus gets a little (I swear, only a little) jealous when someone starts flirting with Alec at one of his parties.

Also including cute drunk Simon and secretly sappy Raphael. -  By Guardian_Rose

21. You Might Like This

Alec gives Magnus a present. -  By Guardian_Rose

22. It’s Not Heavy, I’m Stronger Than I Look

Alec doesn't know what to get Magnus and Isabelle has to persuade him to believe in his choices. After all, for Magnus anything from Alec is special. -  By Guardian_Rose

23. I’ll Wait

Alec goes over to Magnus's loft for a movie date only to find a young werewolf generally being a nuisance.  -  By Guardian_Rose

24. Just Because

Alec needs Jace to cover for his absence whilst he goes with Magnus to adopt another cat. -  By Guardian_Rose

25. Look Both Ways

“Uh, hello.” Alec mumbled, wincing at the hoarseness of his voice; he hadn’t spoken for quite a while as there had been no need. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Hello, who is this?”

Whoever was on the other side giggled, Alec raised an eyebrow as he heard shuffling before someone answered.

“Hi Alec!”

“Max? Whose phone are you using?” Alec asked, concerned but not overly worried as if something was wrong then Max wouldn't be giggling. -  By Guardian_Rose

26. I’m Sorry. I Didn’t Mean To

Alec was clearly exhausted and Magnus was worried that he hadn't been sleeping enough and he was also worried about why.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Alec murmured but didn't make any move to untangle himself from the warlock.

“Do you need to tell anyone where you’re going?” Magnus leaned back, putting a small amount of distance between him and his boyfriend in order to meet his eyes. -  By Guardian_Rose

27. Try Some

He was surprised when he saw Magnus looking at Alec with something akin to awe and unadulterated affection. He flushed hotly but made himself maintain eye contact, raising his eyebrow questioningly.

“So?” He queried when Magnus didn't say anything. -  By Guardian_Rose

28. Drive Safely 

Magnus liked Jace, he truly did. He was a Herondale through and through, reminding him of his old friend Will Herondale on more than one occasion but in a way he had the same undying loyalty and resolve that the other Lightwood siblings possessed in abundance. Okay, so sometimes he grated on Magnus’s nerves more than the others and yes, Magnus was known to be what could be considered rude to the Nephilim but deep down he felt the same affection and mutual respect that he held for the other Shadowhunter’s of the group. -  By Guardian_Rose

29. Well, What Do You Want To Do

He heard more than saw Magnus move to kneel in front of him, felt his gaze, heard his breathing and the rustle of his clothes. The warlock put a hand over Alec’s to stop him fidgeting. He could see the matching bracelet on the tan wrist and felt the tears push even harder to fall. Then they were and Alec didn't know what to do.

“Alec.” -  By Guardian_Rose

30. One More Chapter

4 times Magnus has to interrupt Alec reading and one time he doesn’t.

Magnus learnt fairly early on in the relationship that Alec liked reading. He discovered this when the younger man would ransack his shelves and curl up on one end of the couch giving Magnus plenty of time to work; both of them simply enjoying each other’s company and presence. -  By Guardian_Rose

31. Don’t Worry About Me

Magnus and Alec are getting drinks when Alec is hit on by a random stranger. -  By Guardian_Rose

32. It Looks Good On You

Magnus had never seen Alec drunk before but it was worth waiting for. He's even more adorable when tipsy and talking about odd socks. -  By Guardian_Rose

33. Close Your Eyes And Hold Out Your Hands

For this prompt:

I love stories about Magnus being able to use a Seraph blade because his father is a fallen angel. This way Alec finds out about Magnus's father and Magnus is afraid he will judge him for it. Maybe Jace sees it, too. There are barely any fics in which Jace is actually nice to Magnus :P -  By Guardian_Rose

34. That’s Okay, I Bought Two

Direct continuation from 31 of this series but can be read seperately.

From the prompt:

Confused hungover Alec in the morning be looking at his hand like... "Mags... Mags, wake up, did you propose when I was so drunk I don't even remember?" And they decide that it will be a promise ring because hell, they actually both seem way too enthusiastic about the idea but they really probably shouldn't be so serious after less than a year or so. -  By Guardian_Rose

35. After You

Magnus kept going for a few steps without noticing before having to backtrack; he moved to stand in front of Alec and the shadowhunter wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, dropping his head onto his shoulder. Raphael, however, stopped immediately and grabbed Simon’s hand, a soft expression on his face that Alec hadn't expected. Magnus hummed curiously at the picture before them.

“What else happened? You’re hiding something, Si.” -  By Guardian_Rose

36. We’ll Figure It Out

Magnus and Alec have an argument the night before Alec leaves for Idris.

---- “Hi.” Alec’s voice came through at last, he sounded as sleep-deprived as Magnus felt. It made him feel a little better but then even worse when he realised how relieved he was that his boyfriend couldn't sleep either.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” Was not what he should have said. Magnus was not off to a good start. -  By Guardian_Rose

37. Can I Kiss You?

Magnus is worried beyond belief when Alec hangs up without an explanation and Alec has to apologise as best he can when he realises. -  By Guardian_Rose

38. I Like Your Laugh

“Alexander, you’ve been washing that mug for almost five minutes. What’s wrong?” Magnus asked quietly, wrapping his arms around Alec’s middle from behind and resting his chin on Alec’s shoulder.

“Do you think they like me?”

“Who, darling?”

“Ragnor and Catarina." -  By Guardian_Rose

39. Don’t Cry

It took all of his conscious energy and will to keep his eyes open, to not let himself drift off into sleep because if he did, the chances of him waking up were beyond slim. Magnus would be there soon. He would. Jace would be able to track him using their bond now that Alec had been thrown back onto land. -  By Guardian_Rose

40. I Made This For You

“I made this for you.”

Magnus stepped away from Alec’s desk and lay down lengthways on the Head of the Institute’s couch, working on keeping his proud smirk from slipping into one of those soft, affectionate smiles that Alec would point out and tease him about, not that Magnus nor Alec minded. -  By Guardian_Rose

41. Go Back To Sleep

“Does it hurt that much?” Magnus asked, not waiting for an answer before sparking up his healing magic and sending wave after wave of warmth and care to soothe Alec’s headache.

“I wanted to pause the show so you didn’t miss any.” Alec said instead of answering. -  By Guardian_Rose

42. Is This Okay?

“You know, most of the time I love that you have an uncanny knowledge of what I’m thinking. But right now isn’t one of them, darling. If you can hold on, I can make one with one hand.”

“Ah right, if Jace or Izzy laughs at you then I will glare over your shoulder.”

“Teamwork at its finest. Aren’t we a power couple, Alexander.”

(Magnus' POV of 39. Don't Cry, as requested by RandomPerson) -  By Guardian_Rose

43. I Picked These For You

“They’re beautiful, Alexander. Though now I’m worried I’ve missed a special occasion.” Magnus lifted his gaze to meet Alec’s, who was relieved to see the bright smile that lit up his boyfriend’s face; the one that always had a hint of surprise from receiving a gift. It was one of Alec’s favourites.

“There isn’t an occasion, I just thought that they were beautiful, like you." -  By Guardian_Rose

44. I’ll Drive You To The Hospital

“There’s been another surge.”

Alec looked up from his desk as Magnus practically fell back against the now closed office door.

“I’m fine, Alexander. It wasn’t here.” Magnus smiled reassuringly at him and Alec let out a sigh of relief as the warlock linked their fingers together. “It was at the hospital." -  By Guardian_Rose

45. What Do You Want To Watch

Something's preying on Magnus' mind and Alec hasn't a clue what it is, not that that's going to stop him from trying to keep them both afloat. -  By Guardian_Rose

46. You Can Go First

There was ichor and blood dripping onto his kitchen floor. Their kitchen floor. Right now, very clearly belonging to both of them as Alec dropped his bow onto the kitchen table. A splitting headache was starting up behind his eyes and he really wished that tonight had been movie night and not patrol night. Sadly, his luck was faltering as of late. -  By Guardian_Rose

47. Did You Get My Letter?

It had been eight days since Magnus had received a letter, through means that Alec was not entirely sure about, and left that evening through a portal with only a promise to be back before their anniversary weekend. A month away. Alec wasn’t entirely sure he was coping with it. Izzy was very sure he wasn’t and Jace had blinked at him for a silent minute when he’d finally admitted that he was taking this whole thing a little harder than he’d realised. -  By Guardian_Rose

48. I’ll Do It For You

Magnus knows that he should stay where he is, that the work he's doing is extremely important and that it could change not just his friends' lives but also his own in monumental ways. But surely he could take a break to check in on whatever was happening at the Institute? For a few minutes?  -  By Guardian_Rose

49. Call Me When You Get Home

Magnus was already awake but had yet to show any signs of trying to leave, he was tracing over the runes on Alec’s back. His fingers warm and sure, but not asking for anything more. He didn’t seem to know that Alec was also awake. When would he next get to see Magnus? Next get to hear his laugh, kiss him until he couldn’t stop smiling like he had the night before, next get a full night’s rest beside him? -  By Guardian_Rose

50. I Think You’re Beautiful

“What’s up is that I’ve called all three of you Lightwoods numerous times, I’ve searched the whole Institute, I checked my apartment and it took calling Raphael to ask if he knew if Simon was with you to finally find out that you left on patrol hours ago! And now, it’s you picking up my boyfriend’s phone not him, so excuse me for wanting to know what’s going on.”

There was a moment of silence wherein Magnus listened to nothing but his own harsh breathing. Jace had moved far enough away so that the club couldn’t even be heard. Magnus dug his fingers into the edge of the desk to stop from doing something stupid like hanging up before he knew where they were when a sudden low whistle made him jump slightly.

“That was impressive, Magnus, didn’t think you had that in you.”

“Then you don’t know me very well.” He snapped. “Where are you? Is Alec okay?”

***

It's Magnus and Alec's anniversary at last, the long awaited day of Magnus' return. But it isn't the happy reunion either of them had longed for. -  By Guardian_Rose

#malec #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #alexander lightwood #guardianrose #fanfiction #my writing #fanfic #ao3 #writing #masterpost #100 ways to say i love you #100 ways #100 ways ily

[fantasyandromancelover]

Marriage and Family: How it all started part 1

Natsu, Lucy, Gray, Juvia, Jellal, and Erza were having a cook out together to kick off Summer vacation for the kids. The men were grilling and drinking beer, the women were cooking and chatting, and the kids were playing in the Dragneel's backyard.

"Are you sure we should be doing this to Happy?" Nashi said.

"Yeah that looks dangerous." Sylvia said.

Simon, Igneel, and Winter were planning to tie Happy to a little rocket Igneel had made.

"Relax ladies this is perfectly safe." Simon said.

"Igneel I thought Dad said you couldn't experiment on the cat anymore?" Nashi said.

"Only if it's dangerous." Igneel said.

"I got the matches." Winter said.

"Great I'll tie up the cat. Wait where is he?" Simon said.

"Happy? Happy!" Igneel called. "Hey Mom! Have you seen Happy?"

"No dear."

"Oh...I hate it when he runs off. I wonder where he could be?"

In one of the rooms in the Dragneel house baby Ur was fast asleep in her playpen while clutching Happy close to her like a teddy bear.

"Well at least this one isn't trying to blow me up." Happy thought in annoyance.

"Great now what are we supposed to do for fun?" Winter said.

"You could play catch." Natsu suggested.

"No we can't. Igneel blew up all our balls." Nashi said.

"You know when we were kids and we had nothing to do our parents would tell us stories." Juvia said.

"Mom we're not four. Stories are for little kids." Winter said.

"Not if they're true stories that are exciting." Lucy said.

"What kind of true, exciting stories do you guys know?" Simon asked.

"How we all ended up here with you kids." Lucy said. "We've never told them the story have we?"

"No I don't think so." Erza said.

"Well I think it's time we told them." Lucy began. "It all started ten years ago, the six of us were already friends, Jellal and Erza were getting married after they got their teaching degree, Juvia, Gray, Natsu, and I had just graduated high school and we were getting ready to celebrate our future."

Ten years earlier...

Eighteen year old bridesmaids Lucy and Juvia were helping twenty one year old Erza get ready for her wedding. Erza was wearing a strapless organza ball gown dress, her hair was something between an up do and down, and underneath the dress she wore sandal heels. Her something new was her dress, her something old was her late grandmother's silver charm bracelet, her something borrowed were Lucy's favorite earrings that were hoops that held diamond pendents in the shape of stars, but she didn't have anything blue.

"I need something blue!" Erza said in a frenzy.

"Erza don't panic we'll find something." Lucy said.

"We better other wise my wedding is doomed. Juvia give me a lock of your hair!"

"What?!" Juvia gasped.

"That can be my something blue! It's perfect!"

"No!"

Erza pulled a pair of scissors out from her vanity drawer.

"Come on just one little lock."

"Erza put the scissors down." Lucy said.

"She won't miss a few strands of hair."

"I have better idea." Juvia said cowering behind Lucy. She then pulled a blue ribbon out of her hair and handed it to her. "Here."

"Thank you."

The two bridesmaids continued to do her hair and makeup then gave her, her bouquet of red roses and they went to the plaza hotel where the wedding was held. Jellal waited nervously at the alter with his groomsmen. Gray was the best man but Natsu had been chosen to give Erza away since poor Erza had never known her father and Natsu had always been like a brother to her. Lucy and Juvia shared the role of maid of honor because they had both been Erza's best friends for years.

"You nervous?" Gray asked Jellal.

"Yeah. I can't believe this is actually happening."

"Well I'm happy for you."

"Thanks."

The wedding march started to play. Lucy and Juvia walked down the isle wearing their red bridesmaid dresses while carrying bouquets of white roses, making way for Erza and Natsu to walk down together hand in hand.

"Can you believe it Natsu? I'm finally getting married." Erza whispered to him.

"Yeah. Seems like only yesterday you were that crazy nine year old girl who would beat me up all the time."

Erza giggled.

"Jellal better take care of you or I'll kick his ass."

"He will."

Natsu gave Erza away and the ceremony began.

"Do you Jellal Fernandes take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife to have and to hold, for rich or for poor, for better or worse, in sickness and in health til death do you part?" The priest asked.

"I do." Jellal said gazing lovingly at his bride.

"And do you Erza Scarlet take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold, for rich or for poor, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health til death do you part?"

"I do." Erza replied in a voice full of love.

"Then by the power vested in me I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride."

Jellal and Erza then kissed each other lovingly and passionately while all the guests clapped and awed. The reception was wonderful, delicious food, great champange, and strawberry wedding cake for dessert. After dancing with Lucy and Juvia she shared a waltz with her husband and then with Natsu and Gray.

"Alright ladies are you ready to catch the bouquet?" Erza called.

All of her bridesmaids gathered around eagerly waiting for their moment to seize a chance at matrimony by fate's hand. Erza turned around and threw her bouquet.

"The bouquet is mine!" Her bridesmaid Cana called.

"You better back off sister because it's mine!" Her other bridesmaid Evergreen said.

"Why don't you make me!"

Evergreen then tackled Cana. Lucy and Erza's fourth bridesmaid Mirajane immediately tried to break up the fight. And due to Evergreen and Cana fighting and Lucy and Mirajane having to break it up, Juvia ended up catching the bouquet which made Gray tug on the collar of his suit nervously.

"Now for the garder!" Jellal announced.

As soon as Jellal removed Erza's garder and threw it all the groomsmen ran out of the way to avoid catching it because a lot of them were afraid of commitment.

"Hey guys you gotta try the shrimp." Natsu had just walked in after gorging on shrimp at the buffet table when the garder landed right in his hand. "Huh what's this?"

When all was said and done the guests went to watch Jellal and Erza drive off to their honeymoon, wishing them a long and happy marriage.

#fairy tail #fairy tail au #jellal fernandes #erza scarlet #jellal x erza #fairy tail jerza #jerza #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #juvia loxar #fanfiction #fanfic #modern #marriage #family