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natromanxoff · 2 years

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News Of The World - November 24, 1991

Credits to Silvia C. and Queencuttings.com

FREDDIE: I’VE GOT AIDS

Anguish of Queen star

By ANNETTE WITHERIDGE

FREDDIE Mercury last night admitted: "I've got AIDS."

The 45-year-old gay star of rock group Queen issued a statement confirming he had the virus.

It said: "Following the enormous conjecture in the press over the last two weeks, I wish to confirm I have been tested HIV positive and have AIDS.

“I felt it correct to keep this information private to date in order to protect the privacy of those around me.

"However, the time has now come for my friends and fans around the world to know the truth.

“I hope everyone will join with me, my doctors and all those worldwide in the fight against this terrible disease.”

Freddie's spokeswoman, Roxy Meade, said the singer was in Britain, but not in [TURN TO PAGE 6]

[Photo caption: MERCURY: "I've tested positive"]

MERCURY: IT’S AIDS

[FROM PAGE 1] hospital. Miss Meade would not discuss Freddie's condition or how it had affected him.

She said: "He just wanted to let people know he has the disease and that's as far as it goes.”

Last night Mary Austin, who lived with the star for seven years, vowed to support him in his battle.

She said: "I will constantly be with him to help him fight his illness.

“I love him very much and have loved him for the last 21 years."

Freddie’s statement follows months of speculation after the star's weight dropped dramatically.

He became a gaunt, frail figure — a virtual recluse,l ocked in his £4million home in Kensington, West London.

Rumours were fuelled by reports Freddie was suffering pneumonia and periods of blindness.

He was also reported to have consulted AIDS specialists.

Freddie was last night sald to be at his mansion, which is surrounded by a 12ft wall.

Queen guitarist Brian May releases a song tomorrow which will be seen as a haunting lament to his tragic friend and colleague.

The track, called Just One Life, tells of the sorrow of losing a talented pal.

One verse says: "Just one life that is born, and has gone, I was so glad to know you."

A spokesman for Brian denied the song — B-side of his new single — was about Freddie, but the poignant lyrics ars sure to bring a tear to the eyes of millions of Queen fans.

[Photo caption: PALS: Freddie lived with Mary Austin for seven years.]

FREDDIE’S SONG OF SADNESS

Star’s hit was clue to AIDS suffering

By ANNETTE WITHERIDGE and GERRY BROWN

THE SHOW MUST GO ON

‘Does anybody know what we are living for..?

Outside the dawn is breaking but inside, in the dark, aching to be free...

I'm never giving in... I have to find the will to carry on ...’

FREDDIE Mercury gave a haunting clue to his fatal disease only a month ago — in the lyrics of Queen's last single.

His almost-prophetic record The Show Must Go On questions reasons for living and admits: "I have to find the will to carry on.”

The lines — some published above — are taken from the album Innuendo.

Last night psychologist Jane Firbank described the song — which reached No. 16 in the charts — as “deeply depressing.”

She added: "Freddie dwells on the question of life and death.

"It is not inconsistent with the idea that he is very ill and knows it."

Freddie's admission yesterday that he has AIDS follows months of speculation that he had the killer virus.

The gay star's weight has dropped dramatically and he has become a virtual recluse.

In January this year party-lover Freddie refused to attend a bash to launch Innuendo.

And when the title track rocketed to No. 1 fans were amazed to see an animated video — again fuelling rumours Freddie, 45, was seriously ill.

In a rare interview last week Freddie spoke of his loneliness.

Affairs

He said: "I don't have any real friends. Nobody wants to share their life with me.

"I don't really think about when I'm dead or how they are going to remember me.

"It's up to them. When I'm dead who cares? I don’t.”

It was all a far cry from the 1970s when his life was a flamboyant Bohemian Rhapsody.

Freddie was born Freddie Bulsara in Zanzibar on September 9, 1946.

He admits has admitted his first gay affair was at the age of 14 — at boarding school in India.

For seven years Freddie lived with close pal Mary Austin.

At first he thought he had found Somebody To Love.

But when Mary, now 35, moved out he made no secret of his sexuality — and admitted he went weak at the knees whenever he saw a photograph of Hollywood hunk Burt Reynolds.

He is now godfather to Mary's son Richard. He says they are still "hopelessly in love" but their relationship is platonic.

Freddie's former manager Paul Prenter — who died of AIDS this year — once told of the star's fear at catching the disease.

He said Freddie admitted having HIV jests and told him: "I'm scared I could develop AIDS.”

Prenter added: "Anybody that did the amount of travelling and was as promiscuous Freddie was bound to be worried, especially when he knows people who have died from AIDS."

Maybe, in the words of another of his hits, he was praying for The Miracle.

Indeed, may of Freddie's hit song titles could ironically echo his own tragedy… It’s A Hard Life, Who Wants To Live Forever and the Invisible Man — something Freddie became as the disease took its withering control on his once-perfect physique.

Fears

On tour, Prenter said, Freddie had a different man every night and even at home he cruised gay bars and clubs.

He added: “By 6 or 7am he would probably go to bed — but very rarely alone. He has a fear of sleeping alone.”

Freddie has advised young fans to beware of the disease.

And he admitted his fears had changed his life.

He said: “I’m not as promiscuous as I used to be. It’s done that. I’ve adopted an intelligent approach.

"After all I've had a lot of lovers. I've tried relationships on either side — male and female. But all of them have gone wrong.”

Freddie's camp stage performances and outrageous spending sprees and made him the darling of the pop world.

He became a multi-millionaire after Queen shot to fame in 1974 with their first single Seven Seas Of Rhye.

Freddie's spending has been second to none.

He once confessed to The News Of The […]

[Photo caption: ON STAGE: As a harlequin]

[Photo caption: EMBRACE: Bare-chested with a friend, Vince]

[Photo caption: STAR IS BORN: Freddie in Queen’s early days]

[Photo caption: ROCK IDOL: Freddie before AIDS turned him into a shadow of a star]

Loverboy who died in agony

THE father of Freddie's ex-lover Paul Prenter wept as he told of watching his son die agony from AIDS.

William Prenter sald in Dublin: “We went through so much. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.”

Paul was Freddie's assistant for seven years. The pair jetted round the world on sex and drug binge, rubbing shoulders with Michael Jackson.

But they split four years ago and fell out for good when Paul revealed that two of Freddie's previous lovers were killed by AIDS.

The same fate overtook Paul earlier this year. He was just 40.

[Photo caption: JETSETTERS: Paul with Michael Jackson and Freddie]

[…] World's Sunday magazine: "Darling, I'm simply dripping with money. It may be vulgar, but it's wonderful."

London jewellers Cartier stayed open after hours so Freddie could lavish gems worth thousands of pounds on trusted pals and lovers.

He said: "I love buying antiques at Sotheby's and Christie's and I could buy all the jewellery in Cartier's.

"On days when I'm fed up, I just want to lose myself in spending."

Freddie thought nothing of flying his friends out to New York first class for his 35th birthday bash.

He rented the entire penthouse suite at the Berkshire Hotel, on swish Central Park South, and stocked a floor to ceiling fridge with £30,000 worth of champagne.

The party was supposed to last three days — but the celebrations continued for an entire month.

Actor Peter Straker, who received a £3,000 plane ticket from Freddie to fly to the party, was treated to a surprise bash for 150 pals when he celebrated his own birthday.

And he revealed how Freddie went on legendry spending sprees — once splashing £3,000 in Harrods on perfume for every woman he knew.

When he paid out £2million on his Kensington mansion 11 years ago Freddie forked out another £500,000 on alterations.

The eight-bedroom house, set in three quarters of an acre, has doubled in value.

Freddie's moods are also legendary.

He once hurled an iron and smashed full length mirror in his dressing room over faulty microphone.

Another time he threw a Japanese vase out of his window before bursting into tears.

He said: "I've cried rivers," he said. "I may be hard on the exterior but I’m very soft centred."

But Freddie's spend, spend, spend lifestyle began to fall as his life was shadowed by the threat of AIDS.

He went for the first of several tests five years ago at a Harley Street clinic.

Sine then he has watched the disease become the curse of the showbiz and arts world — cutting a deadly swathe through the ranks of the rich and famous.

Freddie's announcement comes just two weeks after basketball superstar Magic Johnson revealed he has the killer virus.

Other big names who have been hit by the AIDS virus include Elizabeth Taylor's daughter-in-law Aileen Getty, 33; former Dallas hunk Dack Rambo, and Coronation Street star Lynne Perrie’s son Stephen, 38.

High-profile victims killed by the virus include Rock Hudson, Liberace, fashion designers Halsten and Will Smith, actor Ian Charleson, Labour MP Alan Roberts and Princess Di’s ballet dancer pal Adrian Ward Jackson.

Other pop victims have included former Bay City Roller Billy Lyall and guitarist Alan Murphy of chart-toppers Level 42. And last week Cher was rocked by the sudden death of her close pal and backing group dancer Peter Tramm.

One of the most tragic case involved Starsky and Hutch star Paul Michael Glaser and wife Elizabeth. Their seven-year-old died, and both Elizabeth and a five-year-old son also have the virus.

Last night TV presenter and former pop columnist Nina Myskow was devastated to hear Freddie has the disease.

Nina first interviewed him when he released the Flash Gordon album early in 1981.

She said: “I was told he could be difficult. But we were soon screaming with laughter.”

“He can seem a bit forbidding when you first meet him but in fact he is quite shy off-stage.

“The news is heart-breaking. If I could wave a hand and make everything right for him I would.”

Now Freddie must hope against hope that doctors can emulate the title of another of his greatest hits… SAVE ME.

Di is the champion

PRINCESS Diana, who has turned helping AIDS sufferers into a personal campaign, is a long-time fan of Freddie.

A close friend said: "She'll be very upset by the news. She's a big fan of Queen and I'm sure she'll send him a message of support." In her work for the AIDS Foundation caring Di has opened clinics, embrased vistimg and cuddled AIDS babies.

[Photo caption: DI: Freddie fan]

#queen #queen band #freddie mercury #queen scans #queencuttings.com #news of the world november 1991

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sineala · 3 years

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The gay Invaders

Hi, internet! Today I'd like to talk about one of the chronologically-first canonically-gay couples in Marvel Comics history: Brian Falsworth (the second Union Jack) and Roger Aubrey (The Destroyer). (I mean "chronological" in terms of in-universe timeline rather than RL publication date; I'm pretty sure Northstar is still the first to publication as far as unambiguously-gay Marvel heroes go.)

If you are a fan of reading or writing about Captain America being queer, you should care about Brian and Roger, because they were two of Steve's fellow Invaders in the 1940s, meaning that they are two of the people on the list of Steve's Old Gay Friends And Teammates, because, yeah, Steve sure had a lot of canonically gay friends during the war. Probably more than you'd think he would have had in the forties! (The other two are Percival Pinkerton, who's part of Nick Fury's Howling Commandos, and of course Steve's childhood friend Arnie Roth. Pinky is gay by word of Stan Lee, IIRC; Arnie was as canonically gay as DeMatteis could make him in the early 1980s, so they didn't say the word "gay" but it's really, really not subtle. Steve compares what Arnie feels for his "roommate" Michael to what Steve feels for his girlfriend Bernie. Yeah.)

I previously made a Tumblr post about Brian and Roger, rounding up some of the canonical evidence of their relationship, but that post is six years old now, and in the intervening years, Marvel has thoughtfully put the rest of the 70s Invaders run on Unlimited as well as the two Citizen V miniseries that star Roger and retcon his relationship with Brian as romantic. So I've read them now, and I've got panels.

Okay. I should probably begin by saying that Brian and Roger are not canonically gay in their first significant appearance together, which is in Invaders vol 1 #19 and #20, published in 1977. Roy Thomas does not seem to have intended them to be a couple, and they aren't canonically one in any of the original Invaders run. However, if you enjoy gay subtext, it's very nice.

This whole arc is the one that introduces Roger in modern canon. He's been brainwashed by the Nazis and the Invaders rescue him and get him back to his normal self. But in #19 we get his backstory in flashback, as related by Montgomery, Lord Falsworth (Brian's father; yes, MCU fans, the name should look familiar) and it turns out that Roger and Brian were basically best friends since childhood:

They were the dearest of friends!

Anyway, they both ended up captured by Nazis, they presumably changed their minds about appeasement as a policy, Brian got out and joined the Invaders, then they had to rescue the brainwashed Roger, and it's a fair amount of fun in a two-issue arc.

The subtext is even more prominent in Invaders #34, in which they find out that someone going by the Destroyer (which is Roger's codename) has been doing villainous deeds, and the Invaders worry that Roger's gotten himself brainwashed again. Brian immediately insists that it can't really be Roger because he knows Roger and Roger Would Never:

Unsurprisingly, Brian is right. It's not really Roger; Master Man is impersonating the Destroyer, and the villains have taken Roger captive, and the Invaders break him out and there is an extremely significant moment where it just so happens that Roger has to catch Brian, saving his life for a change, and they stare deeply into each other's eyes and Brian seems to be having difficulty finishing his sentences:

Some people who read this therefore concluded that Brian and Roger were extremely gay for each other. While ordinarily this sort of shipping is mostly confined to fandom, in this particular instance, one of the people who started shipping Brian/Roger was Fabian Nicieza, and Fabian Nicieza, as you probably know, writes comics for Marvel. I think you see where this is going.

However, first I must inform you that, sadly, Brian has been canonically dead for years. Captain America vol 1 #253-254 -- the two-parter about Baron Blood in the Stern/Byrne Cap run in the 80s -- establishes that Brian died in a car accident in 1953. (This is also the run where Joseph Chapman -- a friend of Jacqueline Falsworth's son Kenneth -- becomes the third (and current) Union Jack.)

(Roger then appears in a bunch of T-Bolts issues; I assume there's nothing interesting there on the gay front because I feel like someone would have told me. I should probably read more than three T-Bolts issues someday.)

So, anyway, in 2001, Fabian Nicieza wrote a miniseries called Citizen V and the V-Battalion. Roger, who is still superheroing as the Destroyer despite being pretty old by this point, is part of the titular V-Battalion, and he has a very prominent role in this miniseries. And in #1, we have the usual splash page of character backstory, and there's a very, um, interesting line there:

Regarding Brian and Roger's relationship, the narration informs us: "It sounds much gayer than it probably was."

This is interesting, obviously for a couple of reasons. One is that, up to this point in canon, as far as I can tell, literally nobody thought any of this sounded the slightest bit gay at all. (Other than, I guess, Fabian Nicieza.) The other reason is that, as we soon find out, it actually was as gay as it sounds. Thanks, Fabian!

In 2002, Nicieza wrote a second miniseries, Citizen V and the V-Battalion: The Everlasting. Issue #1 opens with a flashback set in 1953; specifically, we see Brian's funeral:

Roger is extremely sad, and when Lord Falsworth expresses his sympathy about the death of Roger's "friend" and saying that he knows how much this hurts him, Roger mutters under his breath that he doesn't have the slightest clue:

All is revealed on the next page, when one of the other characters tries to ask Roger about superhero business and Roger snaps at him because, as he says, "I just watched my friend die in my arms."

Except "friend" isn't the word he starts to say:

Yep. That would be "lover." So Roger nearly outs himself. So, yes, now it's absolutely canon. Hooray.

Later on in the issue, which is set in the present day, we have a couple pages of Roger staring at pictures of the two of them and continuing to be sad:

Yeah. They were a couple.

So the question you -- being a Captain America fan -- might ask yourself is, okay, did/does Steve know about any of this? (The reason I started looking all this up was because I wanted to know if Steve knew.) I don't know if we have a panel of Roger specifically admitting any of this to Steve (and if we do, I would like to know about it), but I would be comfortable saying that Steve probably knew back then -- because, well, he seems like the kind of guy who would actually have been fine with it in the 40s, what with all his gay friends -- and also that I can't think of a reason why he wouldn't know now. Because he's definitely worked with Roger again in fairly recent comics, and also Roger is very much out, these days.

In fact, New Invaders #4 (2004) opens with Roger attending Pride:

So, yeah, he's out.

(Then he has to fight, as far as I can tell, homophobic Nazi vampires. They're yelling slurs in German. Great.)

In All-New Invaders #10, which is from 2014 (and which is not the same series as New Invaders), Roger shows up to help out the Invaders, and in passing, he just happens to mention to another character (Joseph Chapman, the current Union Jack), that he is in fact gay:

He and Joseph don't really like each other much; as far as I can tell, their acquaintance in New Invaders consists of Joseph being vaguely homophobic and Roger being bitter about him being Union Jack because he actually wanted to be Union Jack himself to honor Brian's memory -- you know, that thing superheroes sometimes like to do to honor their dead superhero significant others, viz. Hank when Jan was dead after Secret Invasion -- and now Union Jack is this annoying kid and not, y'know, the love of his life. This exchange from New Invaders #4 seems pretty representative of their relationship:

Anyway, yeah, he's pretty obviously out.

Steve isn't actually present for this conversation in All-New Invaders, but he mentions in a later issue of this run that he knows what Roger and his pals have been up to, plot-wise, so I feel comfortable assuming that he's talked to Roger at some point in the previous ten years or so, and therefore, since Roger is completely out at this point in canon, there's no reason Steve shouldn't know now.

On an unrelated note, it's also a fun issue if you're a Steve/Tony fan because this is clearly running in parallel with Hickman's Avengers run, which means that he spends half a page telling Namor that he's mad at him and the rest of the Illuminati (but mostly mad at Tony because... he's just obsessed with Tony in this run, I guess?) about the mindwipe:

This is the sum total of my knowledge about Brian and Roger. No, wait, I know one more thing, which is that Brian was a character in the late, lamented mobile game Avengers Academy, in which he was also actually gay; Roger does not seem to have been there. There's a CBR article that you can read about the whole thing, which mentions some of these details from the comics in passing. (I have no idea why it says that their relationship was alluded to in the Stern/Byrne run; unless I missed something big, the only thing those issues do is establish Brian's death. As far as I can tell, no one is gay in them.)

So, yeah, that's Brian Falsworth and Roger Aubrey, the two gay Invaders. Steve sure has a lot of gay friends.

#posts i actually wrote

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thatisaname · 4 years

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You know those annoying 'actually everything is connected' theories ? Well, I've got one about The Mechanisms' albums

(Please hear me out I swear it's good)

The Bifrost Incident ends with a world-ending catastrophe. The Gods arrive into the world, dragged in by Odin's train, and they destroy it.

What's the first sign of their arrival ? Communications breaking down.

Civilization-ending catastrophes and communications mysteriously breaking down... Doesn't that remind you of something ?

Yep, that's it: the catastrophe mentioned in Holder of the Grail.

This unknown catastrophe that cuts Fort Galfridian from the rest of the world and destroys an entire civilization could very well be the one that starts in Terminus.

Meaning that the events in High Noon over Camelot could be the direct consequences of the events of The Bifrost Incident.

But it doesn't stop there.

Arthur survives. He is, as Mordred puts it, "the once and future king". To our knowledge, he was never officially called King of Camelot but sure enough, he kind of was the King of this place. But... what about after ? If we see Arthur again in the Mechs' canon, it means there's a strong chance he will wear the title of King.

And who is the only character in the Mechs' canon who ever wore the title of King ?

Now hear me out.

After the events of Ulysses dies at dawn, all hope seems to be gone. Ulysses dies in peace, but all hopes of revolution seem to have faded away. The Olympians' grasp on the City seems impossible to challenge in the slightest. But one day, a strange ship crashes in the middle of the darkest street of the City.

Out of the wreckage climbs a man, with a half-empty pistol. He takes a look at the strange new world around him, and nods gravely. He has a destiny to fulfill.

Arthur will be King. That's the lasts thing Mordred told him, and he won't let this last thread to his past disappear. So, he gets to work. In one month, the whole city has heard of him. In one year, even the Olympians fear him.

When people ask him if he's really going to fight the Olympians, the man who calls himself Cole laughs, and answers calmly that it's not the first time he takes over a planet.

The City learns to fear his name and his gun. To many, he's just another crime boss. Some rumors start to spread, saying that he is an Olympian, just like the others. And this gives Arthur an idea.

Arthur starts to take a stance against immortality and the Acheron. He uses his men to spread anti-Acheron propaganda, calls out the Olympians' corruption and even manages to expose the Sphinx scandale using Oedipus' old research. The oppressed people of the City follow him and many of the Olympians' men turn against their old masters. A year later, he launches the first world-wide rebellion the City has ever known.

General Cole utterly beats the Olympians, and executes them all - which takes a little longer than expected, but still, finally works. He seizes all of their research and locks them away. He is elected King of the city, now renamed New Constantinople.

(PS: Hades doesn't stop the rebellion and just escapes. Mainly because they've run the Acheron for so long they got a bit bored of it. Also, because Brian seems to really like Cole for whatever reason.)

At first Arthur's reign is calm and prosperous. King Cole grows old and stays merry. But eventually people start realizing that Cole's longevity might not be natural. His subjects, especially the older warriors who fought at his side during the Revolution, start to get a bit suspicious: what if Cole had used the Olympians' technology to extend his own life ? What if he had become an Olympian in the end ?

Arthur didn't become immortal, but he did use the Olympians' research to extend his life far beyond his normal lifespan. Now that he is King, he refuses to let death get in the way of his destiny.

You know the rest: King Cole turns into a bloodthirsty monster, and finally, General White's rebellion puts an end to his reign and his life.

Now you're going to say: "But Arthur and Cole are so different. How could Arthur become Cole ?"

So first of, Arthur turned evil only after almost a millenia of technology-expanded life which definitely caused damage to his mind. As Jonny says in Once: "the technology that had extended his life throughout the millennia had warped his mind as it had withered his body".

(Which, by the way, is also what seemed to happen to those who were "brought back" from the Acheron in Ulysses, cf Orpheus' backstory)

But Cole isn't that different from Arthur:

- Cole and Arthur both fight with a gun, and both seem very skilled at it.

- Cole is paranoid. Which would make a lot considering Arthur's backstory: just when he was about to save his world, Arthur saw his two lovers being shot in the back by his own son, who then proceeded to completely destroy the world, sparing no one but him. Nobody in the universe would be more afraid of betrayal than Arthur.

- Cole is driven by a thirst for conquest. Arthur was too: in the very beginning of HNOC, he takes over Camelot and establishes a personal rule on the city. With good intentions, sure, but still.

- They have the same outlook on fear.

Remember when Arthur said that ?

Well...

Yeah...

(Also the three little pigs could act as a sort of dark reflection of what Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot once were: three unbeatable warriors, matched by no one... except this time they're not united by love for the other two, but by fanatical devotion to a leader)

So, in this theory, the "ending" of the Mechs' universe would be pretty optimistic. No matter what insane authoritarian rulers will try to do to stay in power, justice, truth and love will win in the end - even if it requires a lot of suffering and death to get there. Or, as Arthur said:

#the mechanisms #the mechs #jonnathan sims #jonny sims #jonny d'ville #the bifrost incident #high noon over camelot #ulysses dies at dawn #once upon a time (in space)#arthur #king arthur #arthur the mechs #ashes o'reilly #brian #i'm sure it probably wasn't intended #i understand authors have themes #take it more as a headcanon

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arewelonely · 3 years

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Eugenia, The Fat Lady.

—

They were idiots when they arrived, and they were idiots when they left. Seven years of schooling never changed this, but it amused her to watch their progressions all the same. Their bickerings, their romances, their stressors. Sweaty kids stumbling in after Quidditch, nervous energy tittering off of them when they left in the mornings before N.E.W.T.s. The ones who could barely muster up the energy to say the password, the ones with glassy eyes and a lack of facial expressions. Eugenia saw them all, and a few of them saw her back.

She had been named Eugenia by her painter. But the man was a prat, and the dark cloth forbade her from seeing the world until she was nailed into the Gryffindor door, so he deserved none of the credit. Instead, her friends raised her–Eugenia and Anne scampered throughout the portraits, seeing how far they could jump (Anne was too afraid of tripping, so Eugenia always won, sometimes skipping past three paintings before turning around to wave at her friend). At nighttimes, they sang throughout the hallways, giggling as their voices echoed and seeing how loud they could get before another painting called out for silence or a professor was summoned to bid these rambunctious kids goodnight.

The two obviously did this less during school times. They were too tired: Anne from directing the new students around the castle from her perch at the top of the Grand Staircase, and Eugenia from making sure that only the correct students were allowed in her common room.

Thank Merlin, she was stationed outside of Gryffindor. She had heard stories about the other houses: the portrait outside of Ravenclaw’s common room had to come up with a riddle each time a student entered, and the Hufflepuff portrait was far too lenient on who they allowed in! The Slytherin students sounded far less kind than Eugenia’s Gryffindors, but that also could have been a rumor. The students were difficult to understand–far too many streams of gossip and incredibly few facts. They sometimes chatted right in front of her for oh so long before giving the password… she rolled her eyes and huffed as loudly as she could each time. She had things to do, songs to practice, didn’t want her mouth full of grapes and cheese when it finally was time for her to ask for the password. She was not unreasonable, Eugenia, but the students were just little pricks. Joyful little pricks.

By her twenties, she had mastered getting back from just about any point in the castle to her station in under ten minutes. This was no small feat, and her chest swelled proudly each time she beat a student back to their common room.

“Password?” she’d sniff, chin held high.

And they’d give it to her, unaware she had been exploring some uninhabited hallway just a few minutes before. She and Anne were still friends, and they still frolicked around the castle whenever they got a chance.

Anne kissed her first, very briefly right before the end of class rush, and Eugenia felt the blush blossom across her cheeks before she was left alone in her hallway, hearing the students’ chatter coming closer, feeling her lips tingle from her friend’s touch. They went farther in the months following, and they were merry and laughed at each other as their limbs tangled, Eugenia’s head dipping backwards to let her giggles climb to the sky.

She had never wanted a romance; didn’t feel the need and couldn’t find the want in her chest, but this was fun and she had always loved Anne’s company and Anne was fine with the lack of romance–she had another lover a few floors up, anyway.

In the days when Anne and her other friends were all occupied, or when the rush of students in and out never seemed to end, the creatures around her kept Eugenia company. They enjoyed grazing from painting to painting, and Eugenia was blessed with ponds and blue skies, so she got to experience the most wonderful array of animals. Her favorite were the hippos, but the birds and butterflies were lovely as well. Many of them liked her, but a few just did not care–a bird even pooped on her head once, and Eugenia barely let out a screech before she was jumping up and waving them out of her frame. It took them many months of repentance before she allowed any animals back in her scene.

“Are…?”

Eugenia stared down at the girl–well, a woman, really. It had been, what, four years since this one had first entered the castle? And what did she want now? “Yes? Would you like to give me the password? I don’t have all day, you know.” And she didn’t, she had plans later: a picnic with a new friend… if she could get away.

The girl fumbled with her hands. She was usually much more composed, really. Betty, her name was. Gryffindor Captain. Usually held her shoulders high, said the password quickly, let Eugenia get back to her life.

“Yes, sorry,” Betty murmured. “I just, I saw you and another woman here earlier, and I was wondering… are you two, er, a couple?”

Eugenia snorted. “No, we are not.” She stared down at Betty’s face as it fell, as fear darted over quickly. “We are friends, Anne and I. We live like the Greeks,” she gestured with her grapes. “Don’t have time for that coupling nonsense.”

Betty blinked quickly. “Ah, so you…”

Eugenia cleared her throat. Alright, she could move this conversation along. She was supposed to picnic at sunset, and at this rate she wouldn’t get there until the moon had risen fully. She crossed her arms and shifted on her seat. “It’s Euphraïlde for you, isn’t it? The Lestrange girl?”

Betty’s head jerked up, her curls bouncing, her eyes wide. “I–uh…”

“Personally, I thought it was an odd choice,” Eugenia informed her. “A Slytherin and a Gryffindor? Really?”

“Oh, no,” Betty shook her head rapidly, “she’s so lovely, don’t think like that! She’s kind, and funny, and she just…”

Eugenia raised her eyebrows when Betty’s words ended and a pretty smile took over her face. “Did you have a password for me?”

“Do you have a name?” Betty blurted.

Eugenia sniffed. “I do.”

“May I know it? I’ve been here for a while, I was realizing I just don’t really know much about you.”

The hippos behind her gave a grunt and she held in a groan. “My name is Eugenia.”

“Eugenia,” Betty smiled again. “My name is Betty.”

“Yes, I know, you’ve been here for four years. Now, do you have a password or not? I have a picnic to get to.”

Anne teased her about it afterwards–“no longer anonymous, are you?”–“other students have known my name, you can shut up now”–but Eugenia couldn’t deny that this was different. Betty brought her girlfriend by a few weeks later, and even though Eugenia truly wished to keep the Gryffindor space closed (she had enough students bothering her already), she was forced to let Euphraïlde in after she saw how timid the girl was, how she bounced back and forth, and how Betty’s arm never left her back.

Eugenia placed her head in her hands when the door swung shut behind the two. She would hate it, this idea that had just popped into her head. Anne would be far too happy about it. But it was necessary.

In her thirties, Eugenia made sure to invite all her lovers to her portrait at some point or another. She enjoyed the company, she did, and she enjoyed the looks on her students’ faces when they saw her with a new suitor, gender be damned. Some of the students were idiots, but they always had been, so this was not too surprising. Some of the students were like Betty, and smiled at Eugenia softly, nodding at the people in her frame before heading off to class. Some of the students asked her name, and she begrudgingly gave it each time, if only for equity of information–Eugenia knew far too much about all of these dumb students, it was only fair they know a piece of her as well. Unequal relationship if not.

“So you do have a relationship with them?” Anne asked, and Eugenia scoffed, pushing her shoulder until she fell backwards into the flowers. Anne grinned up at her, and Eugenia hid a smile.

She supposed the nickname some students adopted for her only made sense; not everyone asked her name, and everyone needed something to call her. While she might have gone with ‘Lady Who Guards the Gryffindors’, Eugenia understood this was too long for everyday conversation. And so, The Fat Lady she became.

She had started meeting with Brian a few years ago. He was a decent enough man when he was Headmaster, and his painting was quite a delight. He enjoyed making the climb from the Entrance Hall to Eugenia’s nook, and always kissed her cheek before departing at the end of their time together.

“Are you free next weekend, Brian?” Eugenia would ask.

“Brian The Third,” he’d toss over his shoulder, jumping over a rock or across a stream.

She’d smother her smile. “Are you free?”

“Depends on whether you call me by the proper name, Eugenia dear.”

And she never would, and he’d always return.

He enjoyed lavishing her with food–“you’re my queen, darling, and I want to treat you well in every aspect”–and he blessed her with smooches every chance he got. He was particularly fond of her hair free, and sometimes she’d sneak down to his portrait in the dead of night, locks curled around her shoulders, to kiss him awake.

“It is okay with you,” she confirmed, “that we aren’t… together?”

Brian raised his eyebrows and tossed a grape in her mouth. “We are together right now. We were together last night.”

“But we–”

“And you’ll return to your Gryffindors, and I’ll come visit you. If you’d like.”

Eugenia nodded. “Yes, I’d like that. But I don’t…” she pressed a hand to her chest, pushing on her sternum, wrapping a hand around her waist.

“I like you as a person,” Brian told her. “I like spending time with you. I like when you kiss me. I like to kiss you.”

“I like to kiss you too.”

Brian tossed another grape, and it bounced off of her breast. She rolled her eyes at him when he grinned. His smile faded, though, and his eyes were sincere. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Eugenia told him. “Just checking.”

Brian hit the other breast with a grape and Eugenia cackled, then pelted him with a few in retaliation.

By her forties, Eugenia was fairly confident in her singing. It called her lovers to her, it repelled students, and honestly, what more could she ask for in a talent? She enjoyed that this was part of her personality to students–just being The Fat Lady was only moderately degrading, and she liked that they’d groan when they heard her, coming up the hallway. Sometimes she’d serenade them, making the loud ones blush, making the shy ones grin, telling stories of her youth–how had it been so many years already? Headmasters had come and gone, past students’ children were entering the halls… Eugenia shook her head and sang louder.

The day she discovered she could crack a glass with her voice was an outstanding one. She yipped with glee and the dog asleep on the lawn next to her groaned at being awakened.

“No, you don’t understand,” she chortled, “my voice! Is so stronggggg!” She leaped into the air and sang until Anne came to congratulate her.

Eugenia knew her fifties would be the prime of her life–and this was only partially because she would be fifty until the end of time. Her youth had happened, and honestly, she was still in it, but also, what had to change? She was as plump as could be, had friends and lovers all around the castle, and fairly decent working relationships with the professors and students, after only a few years of strife in regards to the volume of her singing. The students were still idiots, but there was the occasional one every now and again who was halfway decent, and many each year with whom she had talking relationships–“no, Anne, like a professional talking relationship, like I have with the professors–no, those aren’t real relationships, no, go back to your portrait now, shoo.”

There were a few students for whom Eugenia refused to bend the rules. Poppy Pomfrey was allowed to visit her girlfriend Minerva, and Rubeus was allowed to reenter when his friends brought him by. Eugenia was all too happy to play innocent when Albus would ask her if the boy had been seen in the castle–he was a prick as a student, a prick as Headmaster.

Tom Riddle, however, was not allowed to enter. Eugenia hated the way he watched the others, and she didn’t like his smooth mannerisms–namely, the way he informed her there was someone he had to meet inside, rather than respectfully asking for entry. She never allowed a non-Gryffindor to enter alone, and the flare of his nostrils when she told him no was enough to ensure he was never allowed to enter at all.

She wasn’t surprised when she later found out Tom’s goals. She had seen the students grow more fearful over the years. She saw the Muggleborn students watch over their shoulders a bit more. She made sure to sing louder when they were in the hallway, so they knew they were never alone. She let no Slytherins into the Gryffindor common room for several years.

And then Sirius Black stood in front of her one day. And he had the correct password. And as much as Eugenia tried to sniff her way to superiority, this Slytherin-born child would not let her.

“Oi, narrow-minded hag, let me the fuck into my common room!” He stomped his foot, the petulant kid he was. “I have the password, you imbecile, I literally told it to you, what more do you want?”

Eugenia crossed her arms. “You’re telling me you’re a Gryffindor.”

“I literally came in here last night.” He gestured to her wall, eyes wide. “I literally slept in there. I’m a Gryffindor.”

“But your fa–”

“Don’t you even dare,” the boy marched forward. His eyes were dark and his hair long. He stopped right in front of Eugenia’s face. She didn’t allow herself to back away. “I am a Gryffindor.”

She held his gaze. He was strong. His jaw was set. And Eugenia let him in, closing behind him with a smirk as he swore strongly in passing.

The boy did not like her, calling her “piss off” and “go to hell” (to which she responded that this portrait was, in fact, her home, and she would be here indefinitely)–and Eugenia didn’t like him, except for the fact that ‘hell’ was a Muggle concept and even as he swore at her she saw the corner of his mouth lift. She saw him talking with the Muggleborns in their year. She snuck around the castle to see what he got up to in his downtime, and saw him causing mischief absolutely everywhere. Anne tried to convince her that she liked him, and, as per usual, Eugenia told her off.

She most certainly did not like that Potter boy–equally as cheery as his father before him, far too loud and incredibly obnoxious, waking her up in the middle of the night, entirely invisible, to let him in and out of the common room. Hogwarts at night was a serene place, not one for immature children to roam around. But her job was her job, and she could not deny a Gryffindor entry.

“You know,” Anne told her one day, resting her chin on Eugenia’s shoulder, “we were exactly like them.”

“No, we were not.”

“Yes, we were. Two young kids, flirting and running around–”

“Flirting?”

“Have you seen Sirius with Remus?”

Eugenia frowned.

“Watch them, I’m telling you.”

And Eugenia watched them, and she made sure to invite Anne around, and Circe, a new friend from a few floors up. She kissed Circe square on the mouth as Remus walked up one day, bade her farewell, and waited while Remus gathered himself before sputtering out the password. Eugenia was pissed when, a few years later, he and Sirius woke her up as they snuck back in late at night. Yet, she couldn’t deny that her chest warmed when she shut the door behind them, hearing their soft murmurs from inside.

“I have a question for you,” Eugenia asked Sirius one day.

He pushed his hands into his pockets (jeans, of course–why wear something wizard when Muggle would do?) and smirked. “I was going to give you the password, calm down.”

“No, not that,” Eugenia shook her head. “You’re not a Slytherin.”

Sirius crossed his arms and stepped backwards. “I thought we discussed this years ago.”

“Calm down, boy, we did. You’re not a Slytherin, but your family is. Don’t you have a brother here?”

Sirius lifted his chin. “Depends who’s asking.”

Eugenia snorted. “I am.”

“What’s your name?”

Eugenia sighed. “Eugenia.”

“Well, Genie–”

“Don’t call me Genie.”

“–there is another Black child in this building. He lives down in the dungeons, with the brainwashing brats.”

Eugenia inhaled. Offering favors was always difficult. And unenjoyable. But she remembered Betty, and knew it must be done. “You could bring him here, if you wanted. I do occasionally allow Gryffindors to let members of other houses in.”

Sirius’s face froze. “You… yeah?”

“To visit,” she quickly clarified. “This could not be a habitual act. Strictly occasional.”

“No, yeah, of course…”

“Hm,” Eugenia pretended to think. “Perhaps in return, you and your friends could wake me up less in the middle of the night, because it truly is quite rude.” She leaned back and popped a grape into her mouth. “Just something to think about.”

Sirius’ mouth twitched.

She hummed. “I’ve seen that Severus lad around though, and I don’t think he is welcome.”

Sirius laughed. “No, Snivellus is not.”

“I don’t like the way he talks to Lily,” Eugenia informed him.

Sirius nodded. “We don’t either.”

Sirius had a new nickname to add to his repertoire after that, and although Eugenia corrected him brashly every time he asked what wish she would grant, the name ‘Genie’ stuck. She noticed that Peter liked this new name, in particular–he had always winced when calling her ‘The Fat Lady’ in the past, and she felt he made more eye contact with her in using this new name. He was the only one she wouldn’t correct. James said it too gleefully, Remus with too much unfounded sass, and Sirius was just an asshole.

The asshole grew up, though. He mentioned offhandedly that Eugenia, despite all her warts–“hush child, I’m voluptuous and incredible”–was better behaved than the portraits that lived back at the Black house.

Brian was here for this, and he raised his eyebrows at Eugenia after Sirius had left. “You’re better than the portraits at his home?”

Eugenia did not let him come back to her portrait for a few weeks, purely out of principle. But she made sure that her insults were much less harsh after that. The boy was a Gryffindor, after all. He should feel safe at home.

She and Anne talked often about how odd it was that their students never really returned. Yes, some did, as professors, but they didn’t really. Minerva nodded at Eugenia kindly when entering the common room, but there was a bit of embarrassment as well–Eugenia had known her when she was bumbling around with the school nurse. Eugenia was a third party in what was now a friendly professional relationship.

Eugenia wanted to mention, somehow, that she knew much about sexual relationships coexisting with friendships, and friendships taking priority, and that, honestly, Minerva didn’t need to worry so much–Eugenia had been mentioning this to her for years, hadn’t she?–but there was never really a time, and Minerva was an adult now. Minerva was an adult, and the world was at war.

The portraits huddled together right outside the room where the professors discussed this war. They listened for anything that might alert them to what was going on in the world outside, and they ran around to tell their friends and dispel of nervous energy after the doors burst open and the news seeped out.

It did not surprise Eugenia that James and Lily had a child so soon after graduating. The two were always too dramatic, even though Lily had always made sure to never use that stupid nickname that Eugenia missed from time to time. It did surprise Eugenia that they died not even two years after the child’s birth. It distressed her that she knew the murderer. It bothered her, greatly.

Eugenia would let none of her lovers see her for weeks. She walled off her portrait and let in only the Gryffindors. Some students begged for their significant others to be let in, and Eugenia refused. She understood a war rampaged. She just didn’t want to allow it inside Gryffindor.

It was Poppy who came to her one day, many months after James and Lily’s deaths. The sweet boy Peter had died. Sirius Black was in Azkaban. Remus Lupin was lost to the world.

Poppy sat across from Eugenia, her knees knobby, her frame smaller than when she had anxiously paced back and forth, waiting for her girlfriend to come out for their date.

Eugenia would not give her the pleasure of speaking first. “Spit it out,” she hissed.

“Your judgement is sound,” Poppy said.

And the women stared at each other, and Eugenia could not make the words leave her throat.

“You do a good job here,” Poppy told her.

“I never get to see them again,” Eugenia whispered. “They leave, and they take their mischief with them.”

Poppy’s smile was wobbly. “And we are not there anymore to heal them.”

Eugenia spent the night in silence, and the next morning she informed each Gryffindor who left the common room that she would again open the doors. “But I have jurisdiction,” she said.

“Of course, Genie,” a fifth-year replied, winking at her. “You know best.”

She tried to hold back her flinch at the nickname, waiting until the child had turned the corner before she shuddered. A hippo rumbled behind her and she turned around to flip it off.

Severus came back a few years after, and it was as if he had never left at all. Tall boy, not grown into himself yet, sitting at the professors’ table when Eugenia peaked her head in. She didn’t like to sit in the Great Hall paintings–too much commotion–but enjoyed hearing the gossip. Sacrifices had to be made for gossip.

Eugenia liked whispering ‘Snivellus’ as he walked past her, hiding behind a rock in a landscape. He stopped and turned around, eyes darting every which way, and Eugenia held her snort. She gave a full belly laugh when he was gone, though, and scampered off to tell all her friends, her dress waving behind her.

She knew Harry Potter had to come at some point, but his wide eyes and horrific scar were not any easier to see with this vague preparation. She sang louder on his first night than she had in decades, and Anne sat a few portraits away to listen.

Harry’s friends were questionable, but of course he didn’t have a wonderful pool to choose from. Ron was too happy, Hermione was nosy and asked Eugenia’s name the first day the two met, and Neville forgot the password and made Eugenia late to far too many picnics for her to count.

Circe, from her position up by the towers, tried to get Eugenia to befriend a Slytherin–she pretended that wasn’t her motive, but how could it not be, sliding the boy’s name into every other conversation and using adjectives such as “lonely” and “snarky” to entice her? A Slytherin had to be brought by a Gryffindor, though. Eugenia had never let a random non-Gryffindor inside, and she certainly wasn’t going to start with Draco, a boy who made Hermione cry and hit her knee on Eugenia’s frame in her rush to get inside. The cheery boy Ron even lost his cheeriness every once in a while due to this lad. The slugs were funny, though, although Eugenia visited the infirmary that night and heard Poppy discussing the intense dehydration they had almost caused.

She and Anne spooked Draco for the next few months in any downtime they could find. It was like they were teenagers again, and the two adored it, stealing kisses in between jumping from portrait to portrait and calling his name–

“Draco…”

“Draco!”

“Draco, over here!”

“Draco…”

–so he didn’t know where to look.

Hogwarts was unsafe again, but Eugenia wasn’t really sure it had ever returned to safety. Since she had seen that boy Tom stand in front of her, she had always been a bit on edge. She found it ridiculous that Albus was still in charge–the previous headmaster hadn’t lasted nearly this long, and he didn’t have as many issues with her being a bit late to her post. Albus was a bit more of a stickler in that sense, the obnoxious man.

Eugenia tried to tell Minerva that she would make a better headmaster, and while she could tell the woman was pleased the first time she mentioned it, the conversation seemed to bring her annoyance more than anything else afterwards. Minerva’s strides would increase so Eugenia was in a full-on run between portraits, following the professor back to her classroom after a meal. The exercise was enjoyable, though, and Eugenia did snicker when telling the tale to Brian a few nights later, so it all was worth it.

Relations with Circe grew difficult, however. Eugenia feared at first that she hadn’t made herself clear, or that Circe wanted more from her–

“No, no, I’m fine with what we have,” Circe said, pushing her hand through her hair. She bit her lip and wouldn’t meet her lover’s eyes. “It’s just hard to watch. There are students here whose lives you could change.”

Eugenia scoffed. “Excuse me? I let them in and out of their rooms every day; they can’t function without–”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Circe placed a hand on Eugenia’s. “Of course you’re a presence in their lives. Of course their lives change because you’re in it. It’s just… you have the ability to do more.”

Eugenia pulled her hand away.

“I don’t understand why you won’t take the lost ones under your wing.”

A jolt ran through her. Circe’s eyebrows knit together.

“I just… you could do so much.”

“Take the lost ones under your own wing,” Eugenia snapped.

“I’m trying. I talk to them, I do, but they don’t listen…”

Eugenia laughed. “And they would listen to me?”

“They have to talk to you, you quite literally have a space where they could feel at home–”

Eugenia stood, pulling her dress up, over her shoulders. The fabric felt wrong. Too heavy on her body. “They have to talk to me? Oh, no, they don’t.”

“Don’t leave,” Circe pleaded. But she remained seated, and bit her lip. “I just mean, you could make Gryffindor a place for people to feel at home. Like you do for the queer kids. Like you do for everyone.”

“Not everyone,” Eugenia said, and she turned to walk away, Tom Riddle’s face pounding in her brain.

Severus Snape, who still walked these halls.

Draco Malfoy, fast asleep in the dungeon.

Sirius Black, the boy she let con her.

Remus Lupin reentered the castle the following year. Eugenia watched him walk in with Anne, the two muttering about his face, the facial hair they had watched him grow, the scars they had witnessed appear. Eugenia noticed the same inability to form a full smile that she had seen from many students before. She understood why he felt blank.

He sought her out and she was grateful for it. He just strolled up one afternoon, and she looked at him solemnly.

“Password?”

He cracked a smile. “Ah, no, not today. I just wanted to come, and…” he looked around at the empty corridor.

“Am I the only one who knows?” Eugenia asked.

Remus met her eyes. “Yes.”

It fell silent, and Eugenia’s voice shook when she spoke next. “I hate him.”

Remus’s face wobbled into a smile. His voice barely made noise at all. “I love him.”

And Eugenia closed her eyes and sobbed, loudly and for a long time. When she opened her eyes, Remus was gone, and a crowd of students waited to be let into their common room.

Harry Potter was not like his father, and perhaps for this alone Eugenia liked him more. He was quieter, more respectful of others’ space and ears, and his snark was sparing but when it came out, it bit. Eugenia had to work very hard to hide her smirk each time she overheard it, and she loved that.

Nights were a bit quieter without Circe. Eugenia still had Anne, and Brian, and a few others, but she was more hesitant to make new friends–lovers or platonic. This castle was only so large, after all, and avoiding Circe’s disappointed looks took up far too much energy. Eugenia spent more time with the animals, letting cows come to graze and sheep curl up at her feet. She perfected the whistle to get her favorite dog to come and shoo all the animals away when the smell became too much.

But there was very little she could do when an animal existed outside of the painting. She couldn’t do anything but watch as the black dog in front of her watched her open her eyes. She didn’t know what was happening as the dog grew–

“Oh, fucking Merlin,” she breathed. She clutched her arms.

Older, yes. Withered. But the same hungry look in his eyes. Same glint like he knew more than she did. Same disrespectful stance, walking closer to her.

“Genie?” he whispered. “Genie, let me in. I need Harry, I need to–”

“Remus!” Eugenia screeched, like someone would come. “Minerva!” Her voice echoed down the hallway and Sirius turned.

“Re–what?” He shook his head. “No, Genie, I need Harry, let me in–”

“There is no way I am letting you in, Sirius Black–” she raised her voice again– “Sirius Black!”

“Eugenia!” he hissed. “Let me the fuck in, I need to get to Harry, he’s my godson–”

“Sirius Black!”

“Fucking–Eugenia, let me in!”

“Someone help me! Someone come! Sirius Black is here!”

“Oh, fucking shit, I–” he reached around the edges of her frame and Eugenia held herself, leaning backwards. He pulled and pulled, his face contorting and wincing each time Eugenia screamed louder. “Peter is in there, I need to get that son of a–”

“Get the fuck away, you shithead! You’re mad, Peter is dead, you–”

“Let me in–”

Sirius began to claw at her painting, and she shrieked and ran back. Her dog was barking now, and scurried off to other portraits. She could hear the castle come alive with the animal's yelps. Sirius stared at her, his jaw shifting, breathing heavily. He swallowed, morphed back into an Animagus, and scampered away.

There was very little Albus could do to console her. She tried to explain this to him many times–he had been obnoxious as a student, too rigid as a Headmaster, and now, clearly, not nearly rigid enough, if a murderer was on the loose in his school. Albus tried to explain that she’d have all the time and peace she needed, and he had her moved elsewhere for recovery. She swore at him all the way. She did not need to be moved, she needed confirmation Sirius Black had been locked up again. She needed Tom Riddle gone. She needed every Slytherin checked for their true alliances.

Eventually, she returned to her post at Gryffindor. Eugenia contemplated cutting off all her hair over the next year. She wondered if a lack of hair would give her a new mindset. She kind of wanted to grow a whole new part of her that had never seen tragedies before.

Brian sat with her while she cut it off; he spread the hair in the breeze for the birds to build nests with.

“Will you still find me attractive?” she asked.

Brian laughed. “It would take the work of a very dark wizard indeed for me to no longer find you gorgeous. Just… gorgeous.” He held her face in his hands and smiled. He kissed her softly. Eugenia walked back to her portrait slowly, listening to the sounds of the castle. She lay down in front of the Gryffindor common room and slept.

Age had not granted Ron Weasley any more quietness. Eugenia kept waiting, but even four years after she first met him, he spoke loudly and with glee. He made Harry and Hermione laugh far too often. Naturally, it was the moments when he and his trio were silent that intrigued Eugenia the most.

“Yeah, he’s at Professor Lupin’s house, he’s sending me letters–”

“I really can’t tell Mum, she’ll be horrified that Sirius Black is communicating with you–”

“No, I think she knows, I think they’re all working together–”

“I really don’t think so, I mean she was really–”

Eugenia stood up, and the sudden movement startled the three. “Are you talking about Sirius Black?”

Harry blinked. “Er, yes.”

“What are you doing with that man?” She felt her heart pump. “Is he here? Are you in danger?”

“No, no.” Harry stepped closer. “He’s innocent. He’s my godfather.”

And Eugenia listened, and her limbs barely waited to let the three in before sprinting down to Albus’ office. She screamed at his door until he came out, and she screamed at him once he stood in front of her.

She berated him for ruining this man’s life, for ruining that boy’s life, for keeping two people apart who very clearly needed each other. She screamed until her voice ran out, and then sat while he spouted bullshit at her, gulping water from the stream next to her. She interrupted him when her vocal cords worked again, and informed him he was to never stand in front of her again, and she would never allow him inside the common room again, and she–

Eugenia put her hands to her head.

“You’re an absolutely awful excuse for a headmaster.”

Eugenia saw Minerva on her stalk back to her portrait, and Minerva’s eyes dripped with tears. Her mouth opened, and Eugenia nodded, and heard Minerva’s steady voice grow shaky as she walked farther away. Good. Minerva would handle this.

She stopped Harry the next time he exited the common room alone. She told him she had known his parents. She told him he was most like his godfather, but that she could see parts of all of them in him. She loved the look on his face when she spoke of his family.

“Would you… I mean, could you tell me about them sometime?” Harry bit his lip and Eugenia nodded.

“I would. Perhaps you could do less sneaking out in the middle of the night, as payment.”

Harry blushed. “Ah, right.”

“It’s just, I’m fast asleep, you know. And then I’ve got to let you out, and then back in…”

Harry pushed his hand through his hair. “Yeah, no, yeah. Well, thank you.” He smiled up at her, and Eugenia felt her heart beat. “Your name is Eugenia, right?”

Eugenia leaned back and nodded slowly.

Perhaps it was time to bring this awful nickname back. Perhaps a boy’s sass could bring his adult self some comfort. Perhaps Eugenia wanted to change her own legacy in this castle, in her home.

She waved her grapes around in the air, and spoke to the boy. “Yes.” She smirked pleasantly. “I go by Genie.”

#eugenia #the fat lady #wolfstar fic #jily fic #harry potter #hp #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #the marauders era #marauders fic #arewelonely #gn mes amours

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lonelyreputation · 3 years

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2021 (AU)

A/N: Got a bit wine tipsy & wrote a teeny story! It’s a bit different from what I’ve written before, so I hope you all enjoy!! Would love to hear your thoughts!! Was thinking of making it a little series, so!!! Happy 2021! I hope this year (so far) has been kind to you ! 💥💞

Prompt: One-sided enemies to lovers (kinda) & No dialogue

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: One swear word // WC: 2.6K // Angst & Fluff

He stared at you.

No, he glowered at you.

He couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you anymore. He’s been with you for as long as he could remember; from elementary school, middle school, high school…He was always a shadow in the room whenever you were in it. Always had been. Always will be.

His earliest memories included you scoring the top grades in school, teacher’s favorite student, handed in every assignment early, and you would always be picked first for a team in recess and gym class. He always resented you more for the latter. Ever since his best friend, Brian, picked you first for his kickball team in elementary school and not him…He ripped the title of best friend away from Brian.

Shawn Mendes hated you.

And he was fairly certain that you reciprocated the same feelings of hatred towards him.

In high school, Shawn studied day and night, turning down countless offers to parties because he was determined to receive the valedictorian title. Looking back on it now, five years since the high school became his alma mater, Shawn was still hung up over the fact that you stole his position of the highest education honor in high school.

He had the perfect farewell speech prepared for graduation. It was the perfect blend of a look how far we’ve come since freshman year speech and a see you later speech. Shawn was fairly close to the dean of student’s secretary and they may have tipped him off that he––more than likely––would be the valedictorian. So, his mother already had a copy of the speech framed and hung in the family room, next to his senior portraits, before the school year even ended.

Shawn finished the year with an exceptional GPA of 4.7.

But you…You finished the year with a slightly higher GPA of 4.8.

The feeling Shawn felt in the pit of his stomach was hard to pinpoint when he found out he was not valedictorian. Enraged didn’t feel like a strong enough feeling. Frustrated seemed like an adjective too soft to describe his disappointment. But the one feeling he could trace back as the reason for his clenched fists, locked jaw, and blinding vision of rage was resentment.

He remembers when the school sent out a congratulatory email to the top 10% of the graduating class. He expected to see Shawn Mendes as the name written on the top of the list. But instead, he saw your name on the top line, and his name at #2.

Shawn had even planned for his graduation party to be on the same day that the valedictorian announcement was made. He wanted to celebrate his achievements with his family and friends because he expected to have the title. He stayed up in his room for nearly an hour at his own graduation party to calm down his rage.

Maybe if he pushed himself a little harder, then maybe he would’ve beaten you out for the top spot.

Shawn Mendes detested you.

After all the years he spent with you––all the way from elementary to high school––he finally felt free after he was handed his high school diploma and shook the principal’s hand. He was leaving the small town of Pickering and attending university in Toronto where he would never have to see you again.

But Shawn wasn’t that lucky.

Because during an orientation session, a week before the first day of classes, he saw you walk on campus with your own orientation group. No amount of breathing exercises could calm him down. All he saw was red. And worst of all, you caught his blatant glare and offered him a small wave.

He ignored you, turned his head back to his group, and tried to engage in the ice breaker conversation.

Luckily, he only saw you a handful of times a semester. He had a different major than you; and always let out a sigh of relief when he walked into a general education class and saw you nowhere in attendance. It would’ve been ideal if he didn’t have to spend another four years with you, but he didn’t see you as much as he did in high school.

Until it came to senior year when you two both landed an internship at the same company.

Shawn thought he was in his own personal hell when he saw you in the lobby, on the first day, chatting with the other interns. He didn’t know what he did in a past life to deserve this kind of torture, but he would repent for the rest of his life to make sure it didn’t happen again. Thankfully, he was interning in a different department than you. But word somehow always got back to him about how wonderful every supervisor thought you were.

When he finally received his university diploma, that was the day he felt truly free. He was done with school, done with his internship––Done with you. He drank a little too much in celebration that night. He drank to never having to see you again and drank to celebrate the job offer his internship offered him.

He didn’t have to worry about either you or trying to find a job as a new university graduate.

So when he showed up to the place where he was now an employee––dressed in a new suit––his smile disappeared when he walked out of the elevator and saw you. He tripped over his own two feet, spilling some coffee on his coat.

Shawn, I’d like you to meet the other new hire––I believe you interned with her.

In the lobby of his first job was where he silently apologized to any God he had ever offended. If this was punishment for missing Church for the past seven years, he begged for forgiveness. If this was punishment for getting into a fight during one of his hockey games, he begged for forgiveness. He begged for forgiveness, but he didn't think he’d be pardoned any time soon.

Because in his new office space, at his first real job, he was only three desks away from you.

/ / /

You stared at him.

No, you gazed at him.

You absolutely loved being in the same room as him. You’ve been with him for as long as you could remember, and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. From elementary school all the way through the wonderful years of high school. You always saw yourself as being academically equally to him. Although admittedly, you thought he was better than you.

A memory with him that was stuck in your mind was one from elementary school; you were nine and it was gym class. Brian had enlightened you that Shawn liked girls who could run fast. And after learning that bit of information, you convinced Brian to pick you first so that way Shawn would notice how fast you could run. So, Brian picked you to be on his team first…Not Shawn.

But after that day, Shawn stopped talking to Brian. And Brian came crying to your nine-year-old self while you were at the arts and crafts table saying that Shawn was ignoring him.

You had a little crush on Shawn Mendes.

But you weren’t all that positive that Shawn reciprocated those same feelings of giddiness you felt whenever you saw him on the playground.

In your eyes, you were one and the same with ambitions. School never came easy to you; so, studying for absolutely every subject was a chore. But you knew how smart he was, and you wanted him to think you were smart too. Along with studying, you buttered up to the teachers so that they would give you the benefit of the doubt and round that A grade––that was nearly an A+––to be an A+.

You knew he used similar tactics, but he wasn’t as obvious as you.

While you made studying a priority in high school, one of your friends mentioned that Shawn liked outgoing girls. So, you turned down some study sessions, and went out on either Friday or Saturday nights––sometimes both––in hopes you could strike up a conversation with Shawn. But you rarely saw him at the parties you attended.

And even five years after you graduated highschool, you were still hung up about not spotting him at more parties.

You had all the right words to say if you ever bumped into Shawn at a party. You had it all prepared, and even went as far as practicing in front of a mirror more times than necessary. Stored away in your mind was an endless list of topics you could talk to him about. You knew he played hockey, so you made a note to ask him about his games. And you were tipped off by a friend that Shawn liked when people complimented his ability to play guitar.

Granted, you had never heard him play guitar, but you were still prepared to praise him. You would’ve felt proud of yourself for stepping out of your comfort zone to talk to the boy who made you shiver with a pleasant bundle of nerves.

Shawn was a smart person. If you remembered correctly, he was the smartest person in school. You always admired his ability to keep up with his course load, play hockey, and balance out a well-planned social life. A little bird flying around the halls whispered that Shawn found smart and well-driven girls attractive. So you worked harder than you ever had in your life to miraculously pull your grades up higher.

You finished with a well deserved 4.8 GPA.

Shawn finished with an admirable GPA of 4.7.

Ecstatic didn’t feel like the proper word to describe how happy you were. Relief seemed like an adjective that was fairly representative of how gratifying it was to read that email. But one feeling you could trace back as the reason for your blinding smile, infectious high-spirited mood, and rose colored vision was how proud you felt.

Because the information in that email confirmed that you and Shawn were academic equals. And you knew how much he valued education.

You spent nearly an hour in your room––at your own graduation party––to write in your journal about how amazed you were with Shawn’s intelligence. Tucked away in a shoe box, your high school journal was still under your childhood bed with that entry.

You were in love with Shawn Mendes.

After your years in school together came to a bittersweet end, you felt slightly deflated when you received your high school diploma. It was your final parting place with him. You didn’t know what his plans were after high school––Always too nervous to make small talk with him. You were leaving the small town of Pickering and facing your fears of living in a big city and attending university in Toronto. You thought you would never see him again.

But you were lucky.

Because during orientation week, you were walking back from coffee with some new friends, when you saw him. You felt your breath get caught in your throat when you saw him sitting on the lawn with his orientation group. All you saw was a familiar rose color when you caught his stare. With a deep breath, and a little pep talk in your head, you offered him a small wave.

Instead of waving back at a familiar face, he turned his head back to his orientation group. You felt a little sad, but you brushed it off thinking he didn’t see you. One of your friends saw you wave at him, and they excitedly took hold of your wrist, and whispered; is that him?

Unfortunately, you only saw him a few times a semester. You figured he had a different major than you; but you always held your breath in anticipation when you walked into a general education class. But when the professor started class, and he didn’t rush in late through the doors, you always let out a disappointed sigh.

You accepted the fact that you and Shawn were no more than people who had grown up in the same town and went to school together. The past was in the past, and you were trying to move on as you filled out multiple internship applications.

Until it came to your senior year when you two both landed an internship at the same company.

You thought you were in your personal paradise when you saw him walk into the lobby, on the first day, that you stopped talking with the other interns. You didn’t know what you did in a past life to deserve this positive karma, but you would keep up whatever good deeds you were doing. Unfortunately, he was interning in a different department than you.

But even as you worked in a different area of the office, you always heard words of praise about him from multiple supervisors. And you always reiterated how diligent of a worker he had been since high school. You even tried your best to try and go on a coffee run with him, just to see him for a little bit, but those plans were never successful.

You dreaded the day when it came to receive your university diploma; that would be the actual day where your thin ties with Shawn would be officially cut. And then you would have to wait for either high school or university reunions just to get a glimpse of him. You were done with school, done with your internship––Done with him.

You had a quiet celebration with your family, opting to go out to a nice dinner instead of having a blow out party. You only drank a little champagne to celebrate the night. You sipped to all of your academic accomplishments, sipped to celebrate the job your internship offered you, and sipped in sadness as regret filled your body.

Because even after having four more additional years of school and an internship with him, you were still too nervous to talk to him.

But when you were in the lobby talking with the head of Human Resources, the ding of the elevator caused you to turn your head. You didn’t think the smile on your face could shine any brighter. You thought he looked really nice in the suit he was wearing, and he seemed just as surprised to see you when he stepped out of the elevator. He tripped over his own two feet, some coffee spilling over the lid.

Shawn, I’d like you to meet the other new hire––I believe you interned with her.

Not only had you interred with him before; you also grew up a few streets away from him, went to elementary school, middle school, high school, and university together.

In the lobby of your first real job was where you silently thanked any God up in the sky that answered your prayers.

If this was a reward for all of the nights you spent crying over sophomore year biology, you thanked your lucky stars. If this was a reward for the one time you went to one of his hockey games, and got a bag of ice for the athletic trainer when Shawn got hurt, you thanked your lucky stars. You thanked your lucky stars because you didn’t think you would be given a third chance to see Shawn any time soon.

Because in your new office, at your first real job, you were only three desks away from him.

tag list (add / remove yourself!): @adelaidestreets, @alilovesshawn, @alina--jpeg, @fallinallincurls, @lights-on-mendes, @mendesficsxbombay, @particularnarry, @shawnmendez, @shawnsreputation, @turtoix, @badreputatiom, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandpucks @musicalkeys, @madatmendes @im-salt-but-not-salty @sunkisseddreamer @determined-overthinker @fortheloveoftheaussies, @illuminatepotter , @par_r, @perfectlywrongsm @lovelysunset1 @samaratheweirdo @sarcasticallywitty15 @repostcentral

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tocrackerboxpalace · 3 years

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Le Rêve - Part 5

Summary: John goes to a certain friend to seek advice. Paul has an eerily similar idea.

The door cracked open, and Brian stared back at him in surprise.

John pushed his way into the room, ignoring the flutter of guilt as Brian stumbled backwards. His eyes followed John closely as he crossed the room, surely taking in the unsettling blend of anger and nerves. Brian slowly closed the door behind him as John irritably shoved a stack of papers off of the armchair and lowered himself into it. It was then that he realized he must have been in a bad sort, because the action garnered no sour or disapproving glares.

“Everything all right, John?” He tugged self-consciously at the belt on his gown, pulling the fabric closer around him.

No. John scoffed. Everything is quite the opposite of all right, thanks. Making no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice, John replied stiffly: “Eppy, I need your help with something.”

Brian took a seat opposite him on the edge of the bed, crossing an ankle over his knee apprehensively. John averted his gaze, seeing and hearing only Paul as the bed dipped with a creak. He fingered the fringe on the armchair, pushing the scene away and with it, hopefully, some of his animosity. It would be no use if he uncontrollably berated perhaps the only man he knew that could help him.

“Right,” Brian replied. John could practically feel the probing gaze burning into his side. “What is it?”

John stared back at him, dumbfounded. The idea that he’d have to explain himself to get Eppy’s advice had never actually occurred to him before this moment.

What could he possibly say? Hey, Eppy. Paul’s been having wet dreams about me, so we almost fucked. Did practically everything but the actual shagging. But we didn’t, because George walked in on it and ran to tell Ringo and God knows who else, while Paul and I screamed at each other and may have effectively ended the Beatles and also our lives.

John almost laughed. Oh, and one more thing. It was my idea in the first place, because I think I’m fucking in love with him.

He was buzzing with hundreds of thousands of thoughts, his mind never having felt so full. Dozens of clips played simultaneously in his memory: Paul’s stare, his shame, his wonder, his willingness, his arousal, his unraveling. His fear, his shock, his pain. And then nothing.

John would punch himself, if he could. Perhaps that’s what he should’ve done instead. Snuck out the back alley and taunted a right frightening lad, until he could get what he bloody deserved and be beaten to a pulp. It sounded far better and warranted than sitting in Brian’s room in heart-wrenching silence.

He had to be fucking crazy to suggest the reenactment. There was no other explanation for it; no one in their right mind would put their entire livelihood on the line for such fleeting pleasure. There were what-if’s about his future and the band’s endurance, of course. But they took the backseat to his concerns over him and Paul. As individuals, rather than bandmates or friends or even lovers. John’s mind knew all too well that their dynamic could never be: societally speaking, yes, but personally, too. Paul knew John—and was far too smart to chain himself to such a burden.

All of John’s fears that had developed over the past few weeks had looked him in the eye tonight and told him that they’d dreamt of having sex with him. They had moaned into his ear, the most beautifully obscene sounds expressed just for him. Just for him, and not some other bird; for a moment, there was no need to pretend anymore.

What might have been the most painful, John reckoned, was that they had let him kiss them. A shock traveled down John’s spine. Paul had let John kiss him, and Paul had kissed back. It was the first time in their sudden union that feeling shot somewhere besides John’s cock. When Paul’s lips nipped at his with abrupt insistence, John could’ve wept.

John could be stripped of everything he had, and still go on. Possessions, wealth, fame, dignity, sense of self—it was all meaningless. The only thing he couldn’t bear was the thought of losing Paul. A life where John could not cling to the hope of holding Paul tightly; of feeling Paul’s breath on his own; of cradling his head in his hands and ghosting his fingertips across sinfully sweet eyelashes and arched eyebrows that would taunt Marilyn and a nose sculpted by Phidias and lips that were made from the stardust on Mars; was not a life worth living.

For a long time, they were silent.

Brian was watching him with guarded apprehension. John could ask the practical questions that even then felt too incriminating. How do you know if you’re gay? When did you realize? What did you do? What do I do?

“I’m not sure how to help you,” Brian started, his voice careful and soft despite jarring John out of his trainwreck of thought, “if you don’t share what’s got you so worked up.”

John swallowed. The next part had to come very carefully, or his cover would be blown. Though he knew he was only delaying the inevitable, somehow, the fact that Brian remain oblivious to the details was crucial to him.

“I’ve done something I shouldn’t have.” He spoke slowly, refusing eye contact. “It was something I’d thought about, but I went too far.” A shaky breath. “A-and… I’m not sure—I don’t know if I can fix it.”

Something just short of clarity sparked in Brian’s eyes. John’s face grew hot with shame, albeit swearing he didn’t give away anything unnecessary.

“Well,” Brian opened. His eyes were too kind. If only he knew. “We all make mistakes. Even if you think you’ve never messed up this badly, it’s all right. Time moves forward and life goes on. You can’t change what’s been done now. But you can take your best shot at apologetics. If this person—if there is a person—and they really love you, you can always fix it.”

John’s heart gave an uncomfortable twitch at the mention of “love”.

Brian shifted closer to John, reaching towards the arm of the chair. He tentatively rested a hand on top of John’s, and though he knew the intention was reassurance, the gesture made him feel sick. An odd expression crossed his face, the twitch enough to capture John’s gaze, but it was gone before he could interpret it. John’s gaze flicked to Brian’s lips. They were pressed together tightly, forming a worried line.

A striking realization occurred to him. John could lean in, right now. He could pry the lips open with his own. A bit of a shift in his chair, and all he had to do was tip forward. Brian would let him; he knew that.

Then, as he deepened the kiss, heightened the circumstances, he would know. He wouldn’t have to try and ambiguously skirt around the problem to get Eppy’s advice. John would know, for sure. Whether it was himself, or whether it was…

“Eppy? Eppy, you in there?” Despite the rapid succession of about seven knocks, the voice wasted no time waiting for a response and slipping inside the door. John lurched back into the chair, despite not actually having gotten closer.

Whether it was just Paul.

“Eppy, I need your help with something.” The words tumbled out of Paul’s mouth, his back still turned to the room as he went to close (and lock, mind you) the door. When he turned around, his eyes immediately fell on John’s face and he went still.

“Oh,” he said, hoarsely.

John’s mind was absolutely blank, his stomach twisting grossly. His mind had lost the ability to spontaneously produce language as he gaped at the man in front of him. He hadn’t intended on seeing Paul for quite a while after tonight, and the shock of his presence right now was utterly baffling. The two stared at each other for far too long, neither making any effort to move or speak. It was only when Brian piped up that their stares finally shifted from the other.

“Paul?” The inquiry held much more than the one word. “Are you all right?”

John watched Paul’s head twitch a bit, almost as if he were about to shake it. Both boys very well knew the answer to that question.

Paul forced a distracted smile in Brian’s direction. “Right chuffed.”

Interesting choice of words, there. John’s nose crinkled into a scowl.

Brian’s gaze continued to drag between the two of them almost curiously. He was no fool; John knew he was sensing the tension that seemed far from their regular spats. He didn't intervene, though. Only watched.

Finally, John worked up the courage to spew in Paul’s direction. The words carried just as much bitterness as he’d intended. “What are you doing here?”

Paul blinked. “I need Brian’s…” He faltered. “Advice.”

John snorted. His heart was hammering so violently in his chest he was sure the room could hear it. The reality of seeing Paul again so suddenly was blinding. God, he wanted to hurt him. He wanted nothing more than to break Paul, to cut so deep that Paul could never in a million years guess what was truly going on in his head. “Ain’t that so,” he spat. “But, if you can’t tell, we’re in the middle of something. So kindly fuck off.”

“John.” Brian’s voice, a warning tone.

Paul’s expression twisted in sudden vitriol. His voice was low, directed entirely at John. “What is your fucking problem? I didn’t make you do a goddamn thing.”

Something cool settled in the pit of John’s stomach at Paul’s final quip. Don’t you think I fucking know that? he wanted to scream. Don’t you know that’s what I’m here for? To find out why?

Suddenly, the reality of the situation came rushing to him, and a newfound fury spiked his veins. Was Paul coming in here to tell Brian what happened? To tell him that John had made a pass at him, or something? John would be painted as the villain. As an attacker.

“Did you finish after I left?” John asked quietly.

The look on Paul’s face was a glittering trophy. Before he could answer, however, Brian abruptly rose to his feet. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but—”

No, no, no. “Don’t go,” John choked out hoarsely.

He shot John a warning glance. “—It doesn’t seem like any of my business. You two need to talk this out on your own.”

John hardly registered Brian grabbing his coat from the rack by the door and slipping out of the room. His eyes were trained on Paul’s, a vicious visual battle between the men that conveyed more than all words ever could. John felt Paul radiating towards him in ways that had no conceptualization, no name; just raw, unadulterated emotions. The pair had always been on that telepathic wavelength, though certainly it was no great pleasure for them now. The only identifiable sensation was vulnerability.

After a long time, Paul spoke. “John.”

John’s breath inexplicably caught in his throat. The words came out choked. “Don’t,” he rasped. “Don’t say it like that.”

Paul threw up his hands in exasperation, casting his gaze sideways. “I don’t know what you want me to do, John. I don’t know what you want from me. Do you want me to say I’m sorry? Is that what you want? An apology?”

It wouldn’t be until long after that John would realize it was an offer Paul never followed through on.

“It shouldn’t have happened. There’s a million reasons for that. I don’t know if either of us really even wanted it to. But it did, and you can’t—” Paul ran a shaking hand through his hair. “You’re not helping me figure this out. You can’t run away from this like it’s just another bother in your life, like… like I’m an inconvenience.” Paul’s lip trembled slightly. “Am I an inconvenience, John?”

John shrugged helplessly. It seemed like the wrong answer, but how do you give an answer to a question you don’t know?

“Fucking say something.”

John looked him dead in the eye. It was funny; Paul had always been teased for his eyes. They were droopy and wide in a cartoonish fashion, remarkably like that of a puppy, or a doe. His lips could form the most filthy utterances (as they often did, the cheeky bastard), but the meaning was washed away by the pure innocence of the eyes. They betrayed him at every turn; despite his best efforts, he would always be the “gentleman”, the “romantic”, the “cute Beatle”. A curse, or a blessing, who was to say? But it was different now. John no longer felt the childlike wonder they often conveyed, the underlying pep and charisma. They were blank now, laced with something quite sinister. They darkened, and rather than a warm pool of molasses John would dip into, they were an abyss. John wanted to claw away from them in a panic, but they had frozen him still.

Despite his mind screaming it was the right decision, it was impossible for John to swallow down the violent wrench of his heart. “Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

Paul’s eyes dropped to the floor, blinking rapidly. John dully noted the shine in them as tears threatened to breach the brim. Paul cleared his throat. “Okay.”

John offered a half-hearted handshake; a truce. It was a miserable attempt at reconciliation. Paul glanced at it with distain before shaking his head and turning on his heel.

John momentarily considered calling out after him. He took in a breath once, twice, but the words wouldn’t come. What could possibly be said?

Before Paul turned the doorknob, he glanced back in John’s direction. John’s stare raked over his form, and for the first time all night, the weight of the situation fully hit him. John’s vision blurred abruptly, and before he could make any move to stop it, silent tears began to slip out.

“John,” Paul started, his voice breaking. He paused for a moment, before wrenching the door open and leaving as promptly as he entered. There was nothing left to do, even if they tried.

They didn’t.

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #john lennon #paul mccartney #brian epstein #mclennon #part 5 #chapter fic #ao3 #angst #sorry

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5-seconds-of-bucky · 4 years

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Glad It’s You (Shawn Mendes Soulmate!au)

A/N: We got all kinds of classic tropes and au’s in here. Coffee shop, friends to lovers, soulmate. Also, let’s appreciate the fact that it’s actually of decent length this time :) My longest fic yet!

Also, I’m aware that the timeline of some events that correspond to real life aren’t perfect but for the sake of my sanity please go with it

Summary: Shawn lives in a world in which he believes he doesn’t have a soulmate until he starts feeling the emotions of someone else. You live in a world where undiagnosed social anxiety prevents you from finding yours. After not seeing each other for three years, the bond you once had is no longer as strong. How does Shawn tell you that he thinks you’re his soulmate when you’re still scared to talk to him like you once did?

Word count: 8.9k+

Warnings: Reader is heavily implied to have social anxiety, swearing, descriptions of an anxiety attack

*Disclaimer: The depiction of social anxiety is based off of my own experience and research and may or may not accurately reflect the experience of other people with SAD*

It was hard to tell if soulmates made life infinitely better or perpetually more difficult.

The discrepancy probably stemmed from the fact that not everyone had the same soulmate indicator. Some had the tattoos of the occupation of their soulmate. Some couldn’t see color until they met theirs. Others could feel the emotions of the other person. There was an endless array of indications. Oftentimes, soulmates had different indicators. It wasn’t rare for someone to have a tattooed name while their soulmate could feel the other’s emotions.

Since the day you were born, the initials S.M. were tattooed on the inside of your wrist. As a child it was a game. You asked every person you met what their name was, your mind consumed with the idea of eternal love that had been ingrained from a young age. There was always a moment of disappointment when they would tell you “Sammy Jones” or “Eric Miller”. With all the adults romanticizing the idea of soulmates, it was hard not to look for yours in every place you could.

For a long time, Shawn thought he didn’t have a soulmate. There were no indicators while he was growing up to show that he could have one. He could see color and there were no special tattoos marking his body. It was a source of shame when his friends would ask, “What about you?” after telling him about theirs. Watching his friends talking about their indicators and finding their soulmates was frustrating. He was a normal kid. What did he do to deserve a life of loneliness that only a soulmate could fill?

Even when his career as a singer launched and he started to understand why it was possible that he might never find love, it was hard to comprehend that he was destined for no one. Was he really that undeserving of love?

He was twenty when he started feeling someone else’s emotions.

It came out of nowhere. He was celebrating the release of his third album and he couldn’t have been happier. He was on cloud nine, meeting everyone at the party with an enthusiastic smile and hug. He felt complete, even. He had stopped dwelling on his lack of soulmate and instead focused on putting everything he had into his songwriting.

It was the best choice he’d ever made. His music blossomed and his mental health was better than ever. All the anxiety of being alone and hoping that something, anything, would pop up to show him that he was meant for someone had started to fade to the background. Maybe he would never truly be over the fact that there was no perfect match for him but he could try to block it out of his mind.

There was a point in his life when he thought that maybe he did have a soulmate. That the system was screwed up and he did have a person. He was 16 and his career was already taking off but he couldn’t help but think that he was falling in love with you, his best friend, while he also fell in love with making music.

You were by his side through it all: random nights when he’d ask you to come over to help him come up with lyrics, days when it started to get a little too much, evenings when he just needed a quick break. You were the best of friends and there was a bond you thought would never be broken.

One day, he realized that he didn’t need some tattoo or the ability to read your thoughts; you were meant for each other. Neither of you could deny the pull you felt when you were together and random people who didn’t know better often mistook you for a couple.

But he realized too late. He went on his first world tour and wasn’t sure how to tell you his feelings when he was constantly so far away. You liked plans and stability; his life didn’t offer that in any capacity.

And then it was too hard to stay connected. He was touring and you were still trying to finish school. There just wasn’t time for you to talk to him at 3:30 in the morning. So you lost touch. There was a text every once and awhile. An empty promise of “we need to meet up” or “wanna talk?”

You both decided in your minds that it wasn’t meant to be. That you had a different soulmate and he had none. It’s been three years now since you were together to have a real conversation. You were beginning to grow frustrated with the search for your soulmate and Shawn had given up all together.

That was, until he felt a surge of anxiety hit him like a truck in the middle of his party. It lasted no more than three seconds but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling after it passed. He had no idea where it came from. One second he felt on top of the world, the next like he couldn’t stoop lower.

It had only been an hour and a half but you were ready to leave the party. It had been an eventful night by your standards. You had talked to two people besides your roommate, which was two more than usual. Your roommate, Alana had been by your side the whole night, a promise she had to make before you agreed to come, but she eventually had to go to the bathroom, leaving you leaning against a wall by yourself. She had only been gone for three minutes, you could feel all the anxiety creeping up on you.

Do they think I look lonely? My friend will be back in a minute, I swear!

If I look at my phone they might think I’m just chilling.

They probably think I’m that weirdo that stands against the wall the whole time and doesn’t talk to people.

Calm down. Nobody cares what you’re doing. They’re all doing their own thing.

. . . They looked at me funny. They think I’m weird.

Oh can we just go home?

As much as you tried to tell yourself that no one cared that you were standing against the wall by yourself, there was that part of you that convinced you that they cared a lot. You were already exhausted purely from being around all the people and loud music. Alana had been gone for three minutes and in those three minutes you had begun to shake and sweat just the slightest bit. You knew that nobody was judging you, it was irrational, but in the back of your mind told you otherwise.

Shawn excused himself from the room, taking a minute to gather his thoughts. While it wasn’t completely abnormal for random bouts of anxiety to hit him, this one felt different. Foreign, as though it wasn’t his own emotions, rather, someone else’s.

He wiped his hands on his pants, confused as to why they were so sweaty all of a sudden. It wasn’t particularly hot yet he felt warm. Maybe he was worrying too much. It was probably nothing. He ran a hand through his hair before going back to the party, putting a smile on his face and the past ten minutes behind him.

“Hey man, you alright?” Brian asked as he approached him.

‘Yeah, just needed to go to the bathroom.”

“You sure? You look a little shaken.” He wasn’t blind to how Shawn’s eyes were darting around and how he appeared a little more closed off than usual.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He turned his head when someone else called his name and nodded to Brian before heading over to them. He spent the rest of the night doing his best to look excited, but those three seconds plagued his mind the whole time.

While Shawn struggled to keep his hopes of a soulmate under wraps, you were more desperate than ever to find yours. It seemed like all of your friends were finding theirs and you were perpetually alone.

With the way you tended to shy away from meeting new people, most people assumed you didn’t want to find your soulmate. That you would rather live a life alone, or that maybe you were never assigned a soulmate to begin with.

You had met a few potential soulmates after losing touch with Shawn. Every time you heard an S.M. name your heart stopped. Maybe you had finally found them. You pushed past the fear of approaching them, rationalizing it with the thought that this could be your only chance to find them. It never worked though. They all had an indicator pointing towards someone else, leaving you upset and embarrassed.

There was always a small part of you that thought Shawn could be your soulmate, even if he didn’t have any indication of one. You were sure he thought the same way but you lost touch before either of you could really say anything about it.

You thought about asking him to meet up when he was in town a few times but something stopped you every time. The thought of what if he doesn’t remember me? or worse, what if he doesn’t want to talk to me? was enough to keep you from sending the text.

It was easy to ignore your loneliness when you could bury yourself in schoolwork, which you had a tendency of doing. It was the easiest excuse to get out of everything. Don’t want to go to a party? Oh, I have to finish editing my essay. Alana tried to set you up on a blind date? I have tests coming up I need to study for.

Alana was determined to help you find your soulmate, even if you didn’t want to cooperate.

“Come on, Y/N. Maybe they’ll be at this party! I promise there won’t be a ton of people there and I know you finished that essay last night cause you told me about it and said that you were looking forward to a work free night,” she said, closing your laptop so you couldn’t “work” on your already finished essay.

“But I want to go over it a few more times to make sure everything is right,” you replied. “Besides, we went to a party last month.”

“Exactly, last month. Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“You’re never going to meet your soulmate just sitting at your desk and pretending to work on an essay.”

“It’s not entirely impossible.”

“Y/N.”

So that’s how you ended up at the party, looking around for a potential soulmate. You insisted that they wouldn’t be there; they never were, but Alana insisted that a night out would be good for you, no matter the soulmate circumstance, and dragged you along.

Truth be told, it was a good thing she forced you to attend. If you had it your way, you would spend most nights in your room, ignoring the rest of the world and sitting on your phone. You were fine hanging with close friends every once and awhile, but a night in was always more appealing.

According to Alana, however, that wasn’t normal, and you needed to go out in the world and talk to people, unless you wanted to be alone forever.

You would say, “But I do want to be alone forever. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t even like going to the bank, much less a party filled with people I don’t know.”

And she would say, “Please, I know that you want to find your soulmate and the only reason you don’t like going to the bank is because it makes you nervous and you’re worried that the people working there are going to be mad at you for no reason.”

So you would say, “I’ve probably met all the potential soulmates already. What’s the chance that some random person is going to show up to the party and just happen to be that person?”

And she would tell you, “People randomly meet their soulmates all the time. Yours isn’t going to walk through this door without knowing you first. If you don’t at least leave this dorm you’ll never meet them. Think of how lonely they must feel, waiting for you to come out of hiding.”

And, as much as you wished you could, you couldn’t really argue with that. The real problem after that was talking to people. You argued that you’re already there, so there’s no reason that if your soulmate was at the party, they couldn’t come find you. Alana tried to get you to socialize by walking around with you and introducing you to new people, but they were usually more interested in talking with her than you.

That’s how you ended up against the wall, allowing yourself to overthink while Alana went to the bathroom.

Shawn continued to experience those random emotions throughout the tour. Random flashes of feelings that weren’t quite his. He would be lounging around when he would suddenly feel excited and energetic, only for it to pass by within a few seconds. One time, he was feeling particularly miserable when a surge of adrenaline and anger came through him.

He had no idea where the feelings were coming from. He was starting to think that they were somehow connected to his soulmate.

A glimmer of hope after years of desperation and disappointment.

Part of him wanted to dismiss it, thinking that no, I can’t have a soulmate. I’ve worked way too hard to get past this to dwell on it again. The other part wanted to take the idea and run with it.

He tried to argue with himself that it couldn’t be soulmate related.

It’s not like it happening all the time or constantly in the back of my mind.

How would this help me find them anyways?

It’s all in my head.

Still, it did little to block the thought that maybe, just maybe, it was related.

It was a quiet day at the coffee shop. Granted, most days were fairly quiet, as the shop was located in a secluded area, but still. You assumed it was mainly attributed to the fact that exams were coming up and people didn’t have time to drive down to the shop when there was a Starbucks much closer to the dorms. You were in the same predicament, having your books splayed out on the counter to study in between customers.

You and Shawn used to come to the coffee shop every Friday after school. Even after Shawn left to go on tour and live life as a rockstar, you made sure to visit the shop at least once a month. Afterall, you were friends with the owner, Eileen, and you would hate to just stop coming and never see her again.

You eventually landed a job there. It was a little bit of a drive from the dorms but you knew that when Eileen offered you the job, you wouldn’t be able to find one with as good pay and flexible hours anywhere closer. Sometimes being friends with the owner for a long time has its perks.

There was a collage of photos on the wall behind the register that made the place really feel like home. There were tons of random photos ranging from when the shop first opened to when Eileen took a picture of a slice of cake she insisted had a face in it.

You appeared on the wall a few times, but your favorite picture was the one of you and Shawn right before he left for tour the first time. You were both laughing in the picture, Shawn’s arm around your shoulders as you leaned into him. It was the last time you went to the shop together and you remembered just how fun of a time it was. It always left an ache in your heart when you looked at it, remembering all the good times you had together.

You didn’t have many other close friends, so once Shawn left for tour you felt a lot lonelier. Your mom tried to get you to make new friends, but it wasn’t as easy for you as she insisted it was.

“Why can’t you talk to the people across the road? They have a girl your age.”

“But she already has a friend group. We’ve lived across the street from each other for years. It would be weird if I suddenly introduced myself and tried to break into her friend group.”

“You’re never going to make friends if you don’t talk to people.”

“I have friends.”

“But don’t you want to hang out with more than two people?”

“No, I have my friends. That’s all I need.”

More often than not, you did wish you had more than two friends, or that Shawn would come back and eliminate the need to make new ones, but wishing did nothing to help your loneliness. You made a few more friends once you went to college, and you were completely okay with your small group, but it never satisfied the longing to see Shawn again.

“What are we doing here?” Brian asked as Shawn pulled into the parking lot of a worn down but homely looking building. “And what is this place?”

“It’s a coffee shop I used to come to every week. I haven’t seen Eileen in years,” Shawn said with a wistful look as he parked the car.

“Eileen?”

“The owner.”

Brian huffed, realizing that they would be stuck there for a while if Shawn knew the owner. He liked to talk to people. And when he talked, he talked and talked and talked.

“Relax, I’ll buy you a coffee.”

They both got out of the car and walked into the shop, Shawn smiling when he heard the bell above the door ring. He looked around for a second, noting how almost nothing changed since he’d last been there a few years ago. The chairs and tables were still in the same places, same coffee smell, even that stuffed cat that Shawn gave Eileen as a joke was still sitting on the windowsill.

The only big change he noticed was the photo wall. There were a lot more photos than he remembered. He wondered if he would still be able to find that picture of you and him.

He looked to the counter and saw a girl with Y/H/C hair, her head buried in the textbooks that were scattered across the counter.

“Dude, we getting coffee or what?” Brian said with a teasing smile, walking closer to the counter to read the menu posted on the wall behind it.

You were so invested in studying that you didn’t even hear the bell ring when they came in, only looking up when you saw someone approaching the counter out of the corner of your eye.

“Oh, hi, sorry ‘bout that. How can I help you?” you said as you looked up, met with the face of an oddly familiar young man.

“Can I get a-”

“Y/N?” Shawn questioned from behind him, confusion painting his face. He hadn’t seen you in three years but you didn’t look all that different. A little more mature, sure, but he could tell it was still obviously you.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the familiar voice, glancing behind Brian to see Shawn. Your eyes widened at his appearance, no longer a boy but now a man. “Shawn?”

“Hey, Y/N, can you empty the garbage and put it out back?” Eileen asked as she walked out of the small kitchen area that was closed off from the rest of the store. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Shawn, a smile taking over her face as she took in how he’d grown up over the years. “Shawn Mendes, is that you?”

“Indeed, it is,” he said with a shy smile. “How are you Eileen?”

“Pretty good if I do say so myself. How are you? How’s the rockstar life treating you?”

“It’s pretty great.”

Meanwhile, you were still staring at your former best friend, mouth slightly agape as you took him in.

“Well why don’t we get you two some coffees? On the house of course. Y/N, stop staring at the poor boy. It’s not like you’ve never met him before.”

You looked at the ground for a second and blushed, smiling at the sound of Shawn’s giggle.

“Alright, what can I get you guys?”

They gave you their orders and you got to work, denying the ten dollar bill Shawn offered you to pay for them.

“On the house, remember? Or are you Mr. rich guy now?” you asked with a slight surge of confidence. You hadn’t seen him in years, but the urge to tease him every chance you got was still there.

“Ooh, okay. You think I’ve changed that much?”

“A little bit. It’s been a while.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I am the exact same person as I was three years ago.”

“I’m not too sure about that, but okay.”

Shawn rolled his eyes and put the bill in the tip jar. “Alright, coffee girl. I would like my coffee in two minutes flat. No more no less. Brian is on a very tight schedule so we have to get him home in time for his nap.”

So Brian was his name. “Your wish is my command, good sir,” you said, bowing at him before turning around to start the drinks. You could hear Shawn giggle behind you, sending an eruption of butterflies to your stomach.

Shawn felt a slight nervous tinge as well. One that wasn’t quite his. He felt completely natural around you but maybe his soulmate was somewhere else feeling nervous about a presentation or something.

You gave the boys their coffee, sticking your tongue out at Shawn when he commented on how it took three and a half minutes instead of two and demanded his money back. You returned to the counter, trying your best to focus on studying. You kept getting distracted by Shawn’s voice, which carried across the shop, as he talked to Eileen. He was sitting in the same two person table against the wall that you used to sit in during your weekly visits.

“You need to go talk to him.” You jumped slightly when you noticed Eileen next to you.

“I don’t think he wants to talk to me,” you replied tentatively, flipping the page of your book in hopes that it would make it look like you were actually studying. The burst of confidence was gone and you came to the reality that you were both no longer the same person you used to be, therefore, you couldn’t keep that same dynamic.

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno. Just a feeling.”

“Go talk to him. I know you want to.” She gave you a knowing look and you sighed. “I’ll take over for you for a bit. Go talk to your best friend.”

“But he’s with Brian and I don’t really know Brian and what if they don’t want to talk to me they just wanted to hang out and-”

“Y/N.”

Suddenly, the butterflies grew, and it became more of bird wings than butterflies. You took a deep breath and made you way over there, praying that it would be over quickly and you could go back to studying by yourself.

You quietly pulled up a chair and sat in it, waiting for Shawn to finish whatever story he was telling Brian.

“Y/N, just in time,” he said with enthusiasm. “I was just telling Brian the story about Willy the window cat.”

“Ahh, a classic.” Shawn could sense your unease and quickly introduced you to Brian. He was well aware of your lack of people skills and how uncomfortable you got around new people.

You spent the better part of the rest of the hour catching up with each other, Shawn doing a lot more talking than you, which you were completely fine with. You tried your best to not show how nervous you felt.

Even as you tried your best to hide it, Shawn was picking up on the nervous habits. Your lifestyles might’ve changed but you were still the shy girl who subconsciously picked at the inside of her elbow and bounced her foot excessively when nervous. It didn’t matter if you hadn’t seen each other in years, he still knew you like the back of his hand.

There were days, back when you were really friends, where he would reach over and grab your hand so you would stop picking, or place his hand on your knee to stop the bouncing. He chose to ignore it now, realizing that you had grown apart, and now wasn’t the time to jump back in so intimately. You were always self conscious about the habits and he didn’t want to make you more nervous by pointing them out.

Even though he was more focused on you throughout the conversation, he noticed how Brian was seemingly getting more and more bored hearing him talk. As much as he wanted to stay and talk to you, he knew he should probably get going. This was supposed to be a quick pit stop to drop in and say hello, not an hour long catch up with the girl he used to be sure was his.

“We should get going. I think Brian is going to walk home if I stay here much longer.” Brian’s head perked up at the mention of his name and Shawn chuckled.

“Meet you at the car. Nice meeting you, Y/N.” He was up and out the door in a matter of seconds, causing Shawn to chuckle again.

It didn’t sit all that well with you though.

Oh no, he doesn’t like me.

He thinks I’m some weirdo who doesn’t talk.

I barely know the guy and he already hates me.

“We should meet up, just the two of us, sometime. I’m on a break from tour if you’re free anytime soon,” Shawn said, breaking you out of your thoughts. “And don’t worry about Brian. I think he’s just tired.”

It did little to ease your fears but you smiled like it did anyways. Were you that easy to read? “Uhh, yeah. I have exams next week but we can meet after that.”

“Alright, how does the eighteenth sound?”

“That works.” You stood up and put your chair back at the table it came from, turning around to find Shawn closer than you expected him to be.

“Awesome. Text me your address so I can pick you up and take you somewhere.”

“Okay.” He threw you his signature smile and it made you melt a little.

“It was great seeing you, Y/N. Tell Eileen I said bye.”

“Good seeing you too and you got it.”

He pulled you into a quick side hug and left.

As much as you tried, you couldn’t study for the rest of your shift. Only three more customers came in within the two hours you had left, so you spent a decent amount of time staring at the wall and stressing about meeting up with Shawn. Two weeks gave you plenty of time to stress about it, which led to thinking of ways to get out of it.

Maybe if I don’t text him the address, he’ll forget, you thought as you stared at your phone the next day, messages open to Shawn’s name, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. It could work. That was enough to convince you to turn off your phone and worry about it later. You went back to working on the presentation you were working on, only pausing when you felt the buzz buzz of your phone telling you that you got a text.

From Shawn: Hey, what’s your address? What time do you want me to pick you up?

You panicked slightly, upset that your plan had already fallen apart. You decided to ignore it for the time being. You would worry about it later.

“Hey, Y/N, can I borrow your phone for a second? Mine’s dead,” Alana asked as she came into the dorm.

“Sure,” you said as you handed her the phone, not bothering to look away from your computer.

“Who’s Shawn and why is he asking where you live?”

Your eyes widened as you realized you forgot to clear the message. “He’s just an old friend. We’re uhh meeting up since we haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Well are you going to text him back or do I have to do it?”

“I will, later.”

“You’re actually going to do it?” she asked with a curious smile. “And you’re actually going to meet up with him?”

“Yeah . . .”

“I’m holding you to this.”

“What, why? I’m capable of handling my own social life.”

“Sure you are. You’re not getting out of this though. I know that look.”

You sighed and glared at her. She knew you too well. “Do you actually need my phone?”

“Yes, I need to call my mom.” She sent you a sweet smile and you shook your head. “Thank you.”

You texted Shawn at 9:12 that night, six hours after he sent the original message. 9:12 specifically so it looked like you just saw it and responded as soon as you did, not like you ignored it and were planning to send it at a specific time, like 9:15.

He responded thirty seconds later with a thumbs up.

The day of the meetup was stressful. You had already been in your head about it for the past two weeks, but you really started worrying when you realized you had no idea what was going to happen.

Shawn refused to tell you where you were going, only telling you to dress comfortably and that you would only be gone for a few hours. Being a person who liked schedules and knowing exactly what was going on, this didn’t make you too happy. It sounded a lot like a date, which only made you more stressed.

“Do you think this will be okay?” you asked Alana. You were wearing jean shorts and a semi-cute top. Not too fancy but not too casual.

“Is this a date or friend meetup?”

“Friend meetup.”

“You look great.” She could sense the hesitation as you looked in the mirror, deciding if you agreed with her or not. “You’re gonna be fine. From what I’ve heard, you were best friends for a long time. You’ll be back to that in no time.”

“I don’t know. It’s been so long and-” You were interrupted by a text from Shawn telling you he was there if you were ready.

“Go have fun. Take a deep breath and stop worrying about it, alright?”

“Okay.” You gave her a smile before putting your phone in your back pocket and leaving. You could see Shawn leaning against his car and looking at his phone once you left the building.

Shawn had been quite excited to hang out with you again. There wasn’t any part of him that was nervous until he went to get drinks for the two of you that morning. It had been slowly building up all day, but it felt more like his soulmate’s than his own.

“Hey, you,” he said with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“You bet,” you smiled back at him, walking to the other side of the car to get in.

“I got you a frappuccino.” He gestured to the cup holder. “I don’t know if what you like has changed but it’s what you used to get so I hope it’s okay.”

“My taste hasn’t changed a bit,” you chuckled. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”

“Of course. What better way to rekindle our friendship than by reliving the old times?”

“True, true.” You discretely wiped your palms on your shorts, unsure if it was from nerves or the heat. “Want to tell me where you’re going?”

“Nope. It’s a surprise.” His eyes had a mischievous glint to them. He knew how much it was bothering you.

“This feels like a first date,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. You knew that Shawn was like this by default, but you couldn’t help but feel a little extra awkward anyways.

“Not my intention,” he chuckled. “I just wanted to be nice.”

“I know, I’m just awkward.”

Shawn laughed and shook his head.

You didn’t drive for much longer, arriving at a small park no more than fifteen minutes after you started.

“I figured we could walk and catch up, if you’re good with that.”

“That’s good. Why didn’t you just tell me we were going to the park though?”

“Wanted you to get worked up about it.”

You gasped. “That’s mean.”

“Gotta balance the niceness out somehow.”

You spent two hours walking around and catching up. You felt yourself ease up as you talked. He was still your Shawn and he barely changed from the last time you talked. The evening ended with a hug and promise to hang out again soon.

“See,” Alana told you when you told her how well it went. “Sometimes you need to just give yourself the push.”

The more and more time you spent together, the more and more Shawn became sure that you were the mystery soulmate whose emotions he had been feeling.

He would feel a twinge of extra excitement before you hung out or right before you texted him I got an A on that essay!!!!!

He was never completely sure though and never told you about it. He wanted to test the theory but wasn’t sure how he could do it without you knowing.

Meanwhile, your search for your soulmate slowed. You came to terms that they would come when the time was right and that you needed to enjoy life as it was. Your best friend was on a break from his hectic life for the first time in a long time and you wanted to spend all the time you could with him. You felt a little less anxious when you were around him, which could also be attributed to the lack of school work due to summer break, but you liked to believe he was helping.

The great thing about Shawn was that he knew not to push too hard. Alana didn’t always know when to stop pushing you towards doing things out of your comfort zone. You’ll admit, it was sometimes good for you. Other times, it caused way more anxiety than necessary and you would be out of it for the rest of the day. Shawn, on the other hand, could tell when something really could be too much and would stop.

There was only one time when he knew he was pushing too hard but continued anyways.

“You wanna be my date to the Grammys?” You had discussed his nomination earlier that day, but he never mentioned bringing someone with him before.

“Date?” You had a playful smirk on your face and Shawn just rolled his eyes and nudged your shoulder.

“Do you wanna be my extra person who’s my best friend, not date, cause I don’t have a date, date?

“As amazing as that sounds, I don’t think so. Way too many people.” You hoped he would just drop the subject.

“Come on, it would be fun. Besides, how often do you get an invitation to the Grammys?

“Never . . . because I don’t want to go.”

“Please, Y/N. I don’t have anyone else to take and we would have such a good time.”

“Take Aaliyah.”

“She probably has stuff going on.”

You have tons of other friends. Take one of them.”

“Yeah but you’re my best friend and I want to take you.”

“Shawn I really don’t think I should. There’s gonna be a ton of people there and I don’t have the money to buy a fancy dress-”

“I’ll buy you a dress and stay with you the entire night.”

“I can’t ask you to do that. Besides-”

“Please, Y/N. I will beg you every day until you say yes. Just this one time, then I promise I will never ever make you go to a party or awards show of any kind.”

“Fine,” you sighed. You knew that it was a bad idea but you also knew that Shawn would hold true to the begging.

“Thank youuu.” He reached over and pulled you into a hug

“You owe me.”

The week before the Grammys was more anxiety inducing than anything in your entire life.

You got your dress a month ago but was starting to have second thoughts on it. Was it fancy enough? You had scrolled through endless pictures of past Grammy looks and everything looked so much more elaborate than your midnight blue dress. Tiffany had picked out the dress for you, noting how you wanted something elegant but nothing that would make you stick out.

You had to admit, you loved the dress. It fit you perfectly. You were yet to show Shawn but you knew he would love it. There was just one part of you that thought that everyone would think it was too simple and know that you had no business being there.

Shawn was doing his best to help you through the anxiety.

“Think of the best possible situation,” he told you.

“Nobody notices me and I stay completely under the radar or they note that I’m your friend who’s been seen with you before and leave me alone.”

“Now tell me the worst possible situation.”

“I do something embarrassing and stick out so that everyone notices and realizes that I’m obviously not supposed to be there.”

“See how the worst case scenario is so much more unlikely to happen?”

“Shawn, I know it’s irrational but I can’t help it. No matter what, I’m going to have a worst case scenario.”

“I know you are. Y/N, I do too. But think for a second,” he said. “Everyone else is too caught up in their own affairs to give a flying shit about what you’re doing. Unless you walk the red carpet with me, they probably won’t even notice you.”

You knew Shawn was right. You knew the worst case scenario was irrational, you just couldn’t help but dwell on it; you were so scared of embarrassing yourself. You were once again planning excuses for not being able to go. I’m really sick and throwing up everywhere or There’s a family emergency. I can’t go.

But even as you worried more and more, you knew how much you needed to do it for Shawn. He had done so much for you. You could do this one thing.

“You ready?” Shawn asked with a huge grin. He had been getting more and more excited by the day. The happiness blocked the intensely anxious feelings of his soulmate to the slightest. At this point, he was almost positive you were his soulmate. Of course, anyone could be this anxious for a long period of time and it just coincidental to yours. He wanted more time to think about it though and if it was true, to tell you at a time when you were in a better mental state.

“Not really, but I don’t think I have a choice,” you said through the door. You had to admit, you felt absolutely beautiful. Your thoughts of sticking out because of your dress were fading with every look in the mirror.

“I’m sure you look absolutely fantastic.”

“That’s not the problem but thank you.” You both giggled at that and you wished you could get over yourself and go out there.

“You know I’ll be with you the whole night, right?” His tone changed to a more serious one, and it was comforting to know he cared so much.

“I know, but still.”

“Can I see you now? This is easier when I can see your face.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, opening the door slightly before taking a deep breath and stepping out. You grasped your hands behind your back and smiled shyly as Shawn stared at you in awe.

“Wow,” he whispered. “You look absolutely stunning.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you looked down to your feet.

“Come here.” He pulled you into a hug, his head resting on your head as yours was on his chest. “You’re going to be amazing tonight, okay? So stop worrying so much and enjoy it as it comes.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know you are, I just wanted to remind you.” He squeezed you tighter for a second and drew back, smiling widely before completely letting go.

You both said nothing as you got into the car to go to the show, allowing yourselves to try to relax before the long night ahead of you.

“Good luck,” you grinned as he prepared to get out of the car for the red carpet.

“Thanks, see you soon.” He took your hand and squeezed it, causing the butterflies in your stomach to explode. He stepped out of the car and winked at you, laughing at the finger guns you sent him before he closed the door.

You both agreed that it was best for you not to walk the red carpet. You didn’t want to be bombarded with questions asking if you were in a relationship and Shawn didn’t want to have to deal with the drama it would cause afterwards. You decided to meet inside, which led to you awkwardly standing around and waiting for him to come in.

After what felt like a lifetime and a half of avoiding eye contact and trying to look like you belonged, Shawn appeared at your side.

“How’d it go?”

“Good. Took some really hot pictures I think people will enjoy.”

“How is that possible? You can’t take hot pictures.”

“As if I haven’t caught you ogling over pictures of me before.”

“As if,” you scoffed and Shawn let out a loud laugh, which made you laugh as well.

“Alright, sassy pants, let’s find our seats.”

The show went well and you eventually realized that you got worked up more than you needed to. You didn’t have to interact with many people and you were able to sit in a seat and enjoy the show more than you thought you could.

What you should have been worried about though, was the afterparty.

Shawn said you didn’t have to go but you could see how much he wanted to. You also knew that if you told him you were going to go home but he should go to the party, he would opt to go with you. So, against your better judgement of what you were up for that night, you decided to go under the condition that Shawn would stay with you the whole time.

It was a little too loud and crowded for your liking but you did your best to hide the discomfort. The faster you got out, the better, but you were going to try to enjoy the party the best you could.

Unbeknownst to you, Shawn could definitely sense your discomfort. Something inside himself was telling him he should take you home, but everytime he suggested you leave, you insisted that you wanted him to have fun and that you would stay until he wanted to go. You knew he came with intentions of talking to other people and refused to leave until he did so.

“But I’ll have fun with you.”

“Shawn Mendes, if you do not socialize tonight, you will spend the rest of your life regretting it so I suggest you start mingling.”

“I feel like that’s an overstatement, but fine.” He started walking away but turned around when he noticed you weren’t following. “Come on, wallflower, I’m not allowed to leave you by yourself.”

You rolled your eyes but pushed yourself off the wall and made your way towards him anyways.

He made his way around, talking to friends and a few people he didn’t know, making sure you were close at all times. You were quiet the whole time, only speaking when asked a question. Like with Alana, people tended to be more interested in the person you were with than you yourself.

Shawn caught you picking at the inside of your elbow a few times. Part of him wanted to scold you for doing it, but he knew it was a subconscious habit and that you couldn’t do much about it unless he pointed it out. He would wrap his arm around you, gently placing his hand over the spot so you couldn’t pick at it. You would sigh once you realized you were doing it again and Shawn would squeeze your upper arm lightly, as if to say, it’s alright.

He eventually gave you a water bottle to keep your hands busy and you accepted it graciously, secretly in awe of how he knew you so well. He was about ready to go after that, drained from the long night, when someone called his name. He made his way towards them and you tried to follow but got blocked off by someone walking in between you. In a split second he was gone, and your anxiety only grew as you struggled to find him.

You found yourself standing next to a table, texting Shawn to tell him where to find you once he was ready to go. You hoped it wouldn’t take too long, but the voice who called him sounded like Niall’s, and you knew they would want to talk for a while.

Shawn was too busy talking to Niall to notice the growing anxiety coming from his soulmate. He didn’t even notice that you weren’t next to him.

You tried your best to blend in, something you thought you were doing a good job of, when someone who looked very vaguely familiar tried to talk to you.

“That dress looks quite lovely on you,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said rather quietly. There was an awkward pause for a second and you wondered if he was waiting for you to say something else.

“Enjoying the party?” He stepped slightly forward to let someone pass behind him.

You stepped back to keep the space, forgetting about the table and knocking into it full force. A loud clanging noise could be heard as a few platters flew off and your eyes grew wide at the realization of what you just did.

The man in front of you laughed but his attention was quickly called elsewhere.The people around you looked behind themselves to see what was going on. The looks of confusion and giggles probably lasted no more than a few seconds, but it was enough to send you into a full panic.

The lights were suddenly too bright and all the noises around you jumbled into a muffle. You pressed your back against a wall as you tried to gain your composure, panicking more when you couldn’t. The music was too loud for anyone to hear your rapid breathing but you wanted nothing more than for someone to come help you; for Shawn to come help you.

“Yeah we definitely need to meet up sometime soon,” Niall said to Shawn.

“Totally. I’m-” He was cut off by a paralyzing burst of panic. He didn’t even have to think to know it was you. The urge to protect you came over him and he quickly excused himself from Niall to find you.

It didn’t take long to see you standing against the wall and curling in on yourself. He felt like he couldn’t get there fast enough. There was nothing he wanted more than to take the worry away from you but it felt like there were a million people in between you.

“Breath, Y/N, breath,” he said once he finally made it to you. Your eyes locked with his and he could see the absolute panic in them. “I’m going to take your arm so we can go outside, okay?”

You nodded frantically, allowing Shawn to guide you to outside. The cool air was a relief but did little to calm you down. Shawn gently leaned you against a wall and put one of your hands on his chest.

“Breath with me, sweetheart,” he said, exaggerating his breathing to help you. “You’re okay. Just focus on breathing.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered once you calmed down and your breathing returned to a normal rate.

“Y/N, no. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I messed up your night and-”

“It’s not your fault. I know exactly how you feel and I promise you, it’s not your fault.” He could see from the look in your eyes that you didn’t believe him and it broke his heart. “Come here,” he said as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, one around your waist, one pressing your head to his chest.

“I know you think it’s your fault, but you did absolutely nothing wrong,” he said lowly, leaning his head down close to your ear so you could hear him. “If anything, it’s my fault for not realizing you weren’t with me.” He felt you tense up and rubbed his hand up and down your back. “You are amazing and wonderful and so strong, Y/N. We all have our low points. Nobody is blaming you for anything.”

You didn’t say anything and Shawn took that as a sign to stop talking. He held you in his embrace for a few minutes longer, relaxing a little when he felt your arms wrap around him.

“Let’s get you home.”

“You should stay.”

“Y/N.”

You dropped it and let him call an Uber, hugging him again once he finished. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you felt yourself once again wishing he was your soulmate.

After a long talk with Shawn the next morning, you decided to go to the doctor to get an official diagnosis. The social anxiety diagnosis also came with the recommendation of therapy. It was time to take control of your anxiety and your life.

Shawn was there for it all. Helping you through the bad days and celebrating the good ones. You were celebrating a good one today and Shawn could feel your happiness before you even walked through the door.

“You won’t believe what I did!” You exclaimed once you were seated on the couch. “I needed this tomato sauce but I couldn’t find it anywhere in the store but I knew they had it somewhere. So instead of not getting it, I actually asked one of the people working there where it was.”

“Good job!” The smile on his face was huge as he gave you a high-five. “Was it really that scary?”

“Yes, but I did it, which is more important than if it’s scary.”

He was so proud of you. It had taken a few months, but therapy was doing wonders for you. It might have been small progress, but even small progress was big progress.

He had held off on telling you about the soulmate situation, wanting you to be in a better space before he dropped the bombshell. Now felt like a good time to do it.

“Not to take away from you, but I have some good news myself.”

“Tell me!” The eager look on your face made him even more nervous for some reason, but he knew he needed to do it.

“A few months ago, I started feeling these feelings.”

“Oh wow.”

“Shut up,” he giggled. “They were emotions that weren’t mine. Like, they felt like someone else’s.”

You nodded your head, having an idea of what was coming: he finally found his soulmate and it wasn’t you.

“And at first I couldn’t figure out who they belonged to but then I met you again.” He looked up at you but your face was blank. “And then I was starting to feel feelings you were experiencing. Like you would text me about being happy and that background feeling of extra happiness would be there but I wasn’t sure if it was really you.”

“Are you trying to test it out now?” He could see you trying to put the pieces together.

“No, I kinda already did in a way?” You looked even more confused so he kept going. “When we went to the Grammys I could feel how anxious you were. And then we went to the party and I could feel it but it wasn’t anything that was too overwhelming. Then, I went to talk to Niall, which is when you had that panic attack, right?”

You nodded.

“And I was fine but then there was this really really intense second of pure panic and I just knew. Some kind of protective instinct went off in me and I just had to get to you.”

There was a pause as he let you process what was happening.

“Y/N, I think you’re my soulmate.”

There was a deafening silence but Shawn was too scared to look at your face to see your reaction.

“You really think?”

“I know it sounds crazy but-”

“Could we really be soulmates?”

“. . . yes?” He finally looked at you to see a smile creeping its way along your face.

“Holy fucking cow.” You both burst into laughter, leaning into each other as you did.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Shawn said once your laughs turned into tiny giggles. He looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes.

“I’m glad it’s you too.”

344 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 3 years

Text

Miss Writer

Pairing: Brian Kang x female reader

World: To Be Continued

Genre: writer au / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: So I had no intentions of returning to the TBC world so soon, but as you can read below, I had a bit of trouble trying to write something for 2021 and this is the result of my nonsense thoughts at the time. I really am happy I wrote this as it feels like a good opening act for what’s to come this year!

Word count: 1558

“Hey! Did you hear about the writer who didn’t want to write?”

“They what?”

“She sat there for hours on end, just avoiding every idea that came to mind.”

“But why? Aren’t writers meant to write?”

“Why am I writing this?” you complained out loud, sighing heavily and leaning back in your computer chair. Staring at the basic dialogue in your word document, you groaned.

Why was it so hard to write?

You had been through this before. Where the words wouldn’t flow the right way, and your characters felt hollow.

But that was because Brian wasn’t in the story at the time.

You couldn’t solve this the way you had back then either. Once Brian had gone back into the world he had stepped out of, you finished the story without any further mishaps. In this case, you didn’t have any other fictional characters stepping out of any novel you had written to send back in. You didn’t even have a character to write about.

That was no doubt the whole problem.

“Miss Writer,” a voice called out, and you turned, smiling warmly at the man leaning against the threshold. Brian tipped his head in your direction. “How’s it going? Is your next bestseller getting ready to leap onto the pages?”

“Ha! At the rate I’m going, I might as well retire.”

“What?” Walking over to your side, Brian then leaned down to inspect your laptop’s screen. “You’ve written only four lines in two hours.”

“Four lines are better than none, though, I can’t say they’re four impressive lines,” you muttered, pouting up at the man. “I’m broken.”

“Shall I fix you?” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you. His lips were almost on yours when the doorbell rang. Brian heaved in a heavy breath. “If that’s Sungjin, I swear…”

“It’s probably Lily,” you mentioned with a knowing smile, climbing out of your chair and heading down to the front door to answer it. When you swung it open, however, you merely stared back at the woman standing there.

“Can we help you?” Brian asked from over your shoulder, right when you gasped noisily. “Y/N?”

“You’re… you’re… no way.”

Sungjin leaned around the side of the house and grinned. “Y/N! You need to stop making people so realistic that they come to life.”

“I’m confused,” Brian announced as you began to bounce with excitement, reaching out to touch the woman’s hand before you.

She grabbed it warmly and grinned at you. “I’m so amazed to finally meet you!”

“Ella,” you murmured and then glanced at Sungjin standing all too protectively at her side. “You found your Constable.”

“Ella?” Brian echoed and then lurched forward, leaning over you. “Ella from the Protector story?!”

Ella nodded and held out her hand to Brian. “You must be the first of our kind, Brian Kang, right?”

“Our kind?”

“Well, I had to explain it somehow to Ella,” Sungjin admitted with a chuckle. “It’s not every day that characters step out of documents, now is it?”

“Maybe that’s why I can’t write,” you murmured, watching the instant despair cross over your friend’s face, whilst a smug smile appeared on your partner’s. Rolling your eyes, you shunted Brian in the side before stepping aside and letting them inside. “Come, I promise this time I’m more equipped to dealing with my characters in the flesh. I won’t be fainting this time.”

“I’m starting to get worried now,” Brian confessed later in the evening as he carried your cat Binks around. “If Ella’s here too, who’s going to be next?”

“Well, considering I can’t seem to create anyone, you won’t have a problem any time soon.”

Brian pointed at you in warning. “Don’t you dare go opening Destined’s file.”

“Ooh, now there’s an idea!” you teased, grinning at Brian as you approached him. Stretching up to kiss him softly, you shook your head. “I doubt I could love anymore more than you if I tried.”

“And you always say I’m the charmer yet here you are causing my heart to go erratic with lines like that,” Brian stated with a giddy smile, his eyes disappearing and turning into little crescents.

“Well, you can’t be the one with the upper hand all the time.”

“Miss Writer.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think Ella is the problem this time. I think you’re just putting too much pressure on your shoulders.”

“Pressure?” you repeated with a frown and Brian placed Binks down before nodding at you. “Of course, I’m under pressure! I have to get my first chapter to Lily by next week, and I have nothing, not even a name.”

“You’re trying to write the next best thing, aren’t you?”

“That’s the whole concept of being an author, Brian. Writing something better than your last story. We’re always on the path of personal growth during this journey, Brian.”

“I know,” he agreed initially, rubbing your shoulders affectionately. You let out a small whine, not realising how tense your body was until he touched you. Brian instantly moved behind you and started working out the knots residing there. He stopped, leaning close to your ear. “But can’t you just write something for fun?”

“Fun?”

“Isn’t that the whole point of writing? To enjoy the world you create. You’ve been non-stop since I’ve known you. Before my world, you write a four part series with Jinyoung, then a three part series with me and Charli. Right after that, you completed Protector, and now you’re looking to follow that up as quickly as you can even though it’s only in the publication stages.”

Brian stepped around to face you, his face growing concerned. “Why don’t you slow down? Write something just for yourself.”

“I have. I wrote you into existence,” you reminded, and Brian slid his hands around your waist and tugged you closer. Placing your palms upon his chest, you gazed up at him lovingly. “I have to write something worth publishing.”

“Do you?”

“Huh?”

“Why not write something that the world will never see?” Brian offered and you chewed on your bottom lip in thought. “I think you’ve forgotten the joy of writing just for yourself, Miss Writer.”

The following morning, you sat at your desk deep in thought. Brian’s words had played over in your mind throughout the night and still were at the forefront of your mind now.

Did he think you had lost your personal enjoyment along the way as an author?

“Hey, that can’t be right,” you hummed, shaking your head before posing your index finger back up to your lips.

Had you?

The last time you had written something just for your own pure enjoyment was Destined. Sure, you had been excited by your ideas ever since, and laughed, cried, grown frustrated and been endlessly happy with the words you had crafted. But you were also contracted to write down those words. Since the third part of Destined, you had been signed under the publishing house you belonged to and had written consistently since. You hadn’t taken any time to write for yourself, aside from short stories here and there when you didn’t feel like working on a bigger story.

Even though you had enjoyed the journey thus far, it hadn’t been one you took alone.

“Maybe Brian’s right,” you said, blinking a couple of times before reaching into the top drawer of your desk for your external hard-drive. Glancing at the clock to see how much time you had left before Brian got home from running errands, you took in a deep breath, opening up your older fiction files.

Back here you were full of naivety and fresh ideas. The world was your oyster, as the saying went, and you had been hoarding many of them. As you scanned the title of projects you once hoped to write, you shook your head in amazement.

“There’s so many ideas here that I haven’t tried yet,” you breathed, stopping on one and clicking to expand the notes on it. “Wow, an enemies to lovers story.”

You continued to make your way through, finding an assortment of ideas. From fluff to angst, and all those in between, you had ample inspiration here to fill an entire year of stories.

“Should I indulge myself in writing these for a bit and come back to writing my next novel at a later date?” you wondered, your smile growing as your computer’s cursor hovered over an idea that piqued your interest.

“I’m back!” a voice called out and you spun around in your chair, leaping up and dashing into the arms of the man you loved. Brian chuckled. “Well, I missed you too!”

“You were right! Instead of looking for the best idea for my next story, I need to take some time off and write for me.”

“I was, huh?” he mused with satisfaction, cupping your face within his hands. “So what do you plan to write next?”

“I have so many ideas! There’s general domestic stories and a murder mystery, some periodic pieces about pilots and regency era based ideas. Of course, there’s a bunch of fluffy ideas, with a few royal au ones and even pirates! But you know, there’s one I really want to try first.”

“Which is?”

You grinned before poking his nose fondly. “You’ll just have to wait and find out what’s to come.”

_________________

[DAY6 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #young k fanfic #young k scenarios #young k fiction #young k fluff #young k au #young k #day6 #day6 fiction #day6 fanfic #day6 scenarios #day6 fluff #day6 au #pwyl; to be continued #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff

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wholesomemendes · 4 years

Note

I have a request, if you’re taking them atm! Tour is still going and Alessia is still the opening act, so Shawn, Brian, Connor, Alessia, Olivia, and Y/N hang out in their gang just having fun, being their goofy selves. Brian and Connor know about Shawn liking Y/N and Alessia and Liv know about Y/n liking Shawn. They set them up and go form there? Ily and your stories and make sure you’re staying safe! xx

Author’s Note: I am so sorry this took so long, I’ve been working on it for way too long! But this is 4.7k of personal assistant fluff and I hope you enjoy it! As always please reblog and tell me what you think!

“Thank you, Glasgow!” Screams echoed out from every corner, energy bouncing off the walls as Alessia ended her set and ran off the stage. You and Liv sprinted your way backstage from where you were watching her on the side, maneuvering through all of the backstage crew in order to reach Alessia before her after show high had calmed down. Upon spotting the two of you, a wide smile formed on her face and she began running in your direction to meet you halfway.

“That. Was. Incredible!” you screamed as she wrapped you both in a bone crushing hug.

“I know right! The crowd is so loud, I can’t even imagine what they’ll be like for Shawn,” Alessia replied with a smile, still trying to catch her breath from her performance.

“Don’t sell yourself short, they’ll probably be quieter for him. Man's looks can only take him so far.”

The two girls laughed at your light hearted joke before Liv piped up, “Better watch it Y/n, just cause you’re his assistant doesn’t mean he’s gonna give you a free pass at hurting his ego.”

“Nah, he knows I adore him, probably give him too much praise. Gotta make sure I don’t blow up his head too big,” you teased, joining in the girls giggles, “Speaking of Shawn, I better go find him before he goes out. I’m kinda slacking at my job right now.”

“Go, go, can’t leave your lover boy hanging,” Alessia lightly pushed you in the direction of his dressing room, knowing you hated when the girls teased you about your not so secret crush on your boss.

“I hate you!”

“I love you too!”

________________

“Does anyone know where Y/n is? She's usually back here by now...” Shawn was pacing around his dressing room anxiously while poor Tiff was attempting to put on the final touches of his outfit.

“I bet she’s on her way here right now, Alessia’s set just ended,” she tried to console him, “Now stand still and let me do my job.”

“I’m sorry I’m just worried, I haven’t seen her much today and I’m worried she’s not coming back here before I go on.”

“Shawn, she always comes back...” Tiff was interrupted by two short knocks on the door and your beautiful voice soothing the poor boy’s worries, “Shawn, can I come in?”

He didn’t even bother answering, instead choosing to rip the door open and pull you into his embrace, burying his face into your shoulder, “I thought you weren’t gonna come back.”

“What are you talking about, big guy? I always check up on you,” you giggled at his antics, feeling his breath slowly even out as he breathed in your signature scent.

He pulled his face out from your shirt to look at you, the panic in them still evident, “You’re usually back here by now and I don’t know, I haven’t seen you much today and I was worried and...”

“Hey rockstar, deep breaths,” you smiled up at him with the loving gaze that was reserved just for him and took his face in your hands, relishing in the way he leaned into your touch, “I’m always gonna check on you before your show. It’s tradition...and my job but that’s a completely different topic. Besides, the reason you haven’t seen me around today is because I’ve been busy taking care of all the necessary business surrounding a certain pop star.” You poked his chest at your last sentence, earning a sincere chuckle to escape his lips for the first time in a few hours.

The moment was interrupted by Tiff tapping Shawn’s shoulder lightly, “I hate to break this up, but you need to get dressed.”

Pushing Shawn away towards Tiff, you took a seat on the couch of the dressing room, watching as he covered up his muscular arms with an unbuttoned, army green short-sleeve shirt. You would be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the view of him in a white wife-beater tank, but you knew it would make an appearance again mid way through the show tonight. You made yourself busy by looking through your twitter feed, liking some of the posts from Shawn’s fans about the concert tonight. “Finished!” Tiff exclaimed excitedly, brushing out the fabric on his shoulders as Shawn fiddled with the array of rings on his fingers.

He tilted his head to look at you through his eyelashes, a smirk forming on his face when he saw your eyes do a quick glance up and down his body. Turning his head back to look at his hands, he prayed you couldn’t see the blush forming on his face from your looks as you were the only person that had that effect on him. He got thousands of compliments from beautiful girls every day, but they never meant as much to him as they did when you said them. It seemed painfully obvious to everyone around him that he was crushing hard on you, well at least that’s what the guys made it seem like. In reality, only Brian and Conner knew after they confronted a drunk Shawn one night who immediately spilled his feelings. That’s the issue with drunk Shawn, he was very, very emotional. Not in a bad way, unless you count sharing everything you feel towards your personal assistant before even she knows bad.

“Shawn, did you remember to take your medicine?” you asked softly as Tiff left the room, meeting his eyes while he walked closer to where you were seated on the couch. You knew he hated other people knowing about his medication even if it wasn’t serious, he just didn’t feel the need to let people know. So even though you made it a point to remind him just in case he happened to forget, you always made sure to do it in privacy with the most gentle voice.

He cleared his throat, scratching nervously behind his neck, “I, um...I’m actually not taking it tonight.” This medicine wasn’t extreme by any means, it simply slowed his heart rate down so he could be calm on stage with his anxiety. But nevertheless it was medicine and for him to simply not take it tonight was a big deal whether he acted like it was or not.

Your eyes went wide, staring up at him where he had made his way between your legs on the couch as he fiddled with his fingers, refusing to meet your eyes. “Oh...that-that’s great, Shawn. Wh-Why aren’t you taking it?”

He sighed, making his way to sit next to you and laid down with his head in your lap. You carded your fingers through his long curls, trying your hardest to make sure you’d be able to easily style them again before he went on. “I don’t want to rely on medicine anymore. I get it’s not that big of a deal and a lot of artists use this type, but I don’t want to feel like I can’t perform without it. I need to do this for myself, to get over this. I talked to Andrew and Jocelyne before I made the decision, but I had already made up my mind.” A quiet moan escaped his plush lips when you lightly massaged a spot on his head as you listened intently, wishing nothing more than to take all his pain away.

“I’m proud of you,” he turned his head to look up at you as you spoke, hand coming to rest on his cheek that was once in his curls, “I really am.”

He placed his large hand over yours, lightly kissing the inside of your palm, “Thank you, it means a lot coming from you.” Your heart swelled three sizes at his words and the look in his eyes was indescribable. Deep down in your heart wanted to believe it was love, but the rational part of your brain quickly dismissed the thoughts. “Hey, I, um, I’ve wanted to talk to you abou-” “Shawn! You’re on in 15!” One of the backstage crew followed by three sharp knocks interrupted Shawn’s thoughts and he stood up with a huff, heading towards the mirror to fix his hair before turning towards the door. “You coming?”

“Of course.” You followed him out the door where he proceeded to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pressing you closer to him as you walked.

“Good, need you close tonight. Got a lot more nerves this time around.”

________________

“I can do this, I can do this, I can do this,” Shawn mumbled to himself as the two of you were sitting under the stage. You could practically feel the waves of anxiety rolling off of him while you waited for his cue to run up those stairs. “I can do this, I can do this, I can…”

“Shawn, look at me,” you took his face into your small hands, cupping his cheeks with your palms as he stared back at you with wide doe-like eyes. It didn’t matter if it was almost pitch black under there, you could see the fear inside of those eyes that usually held so much joy. “You’re going to kill it out there rockstar and you don’t need any medicine to do that.” He leaned into your touch, hanging onto every last word you were saying. “That medicine isn’t what makes you a performer, it’s what’s in here-” you released one hand from his face to poke at his racing heart beneath his chest “-that gives you talent. You’re Shawn Mendes and if that doesn’t do it for you, I don’t know what will. Because the Shawn I know is the most talented, caring, and heartfelt man I’ve ever met, and to say I was him would be the biggest honor.” You could see his tears threatening to fall out of his eyes at your words, causing you to reach up and brush them away, “Now there’s an arena filled with people who love every single inch of you, so go out there and show them what you got.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he sighed, heart feeling lighter than it ever has. He swore you must be a witch because of the magic you had over him, but his brain told him it was the grip you had on his heart that allowed you to have this effect on him.

“Good thing you’ll never have to.” With that he blew you a kiss, running up the stairs to be met with the deafening screams of thousands of fans.

________________

The screaming was insane as Shawn bounded off the stage, energy coursing through his veins. Alessia and Liv stood by your side, surrounded by people on your left and right all waiting to congratulate Shawn. Connor ran behind him, capturing the moment before clapping Shawn on the shoulder, yelling something about how amazing the crowd was over their screams. Suddenly, Shawn’s eyes locked with yours, his smile somehow growing wider as he made his way towards you. His face faltered for a moment when Andrew and some of the backstage members surrounded him, congratulating him on the show while his eyes fought to stay on you. He thanked them all profusely, trying his best to focus on them instead of where you were standing next to some of his best friends.

Once he got through the rest of the crew, he made his way over to you, letting out a sigh of relief when his arms were finally wrapped around you and his head was rested in the crook of your neck. “I did it,” he mumbled into your neck, “I did the show without it.”

Your heart was filled with so much pride and excitement for him that your eyes started to well up with tears while you squeezed your arms tighter around him, “I always knew you could do it. I’m so so proud of you, Shawn.”

“I couldn’t do it without you.” He squeezed your body one last time before Brian was clapping him on the shoulder, turning his attention away from you. Shawn gave a final hug to Alessia and Liv, although it was much shorter and less intimate than the one he gave you, then followed Andrew’s orders to meet with some fans that were backstage. You followed behind him, handing him a water bottle when he began to cough, knowing that after every show his voice typically became extremely raw. He blew you one of his famous kisses as a thank you, causing your cheeks to heat up much to your dismay. Alessia was long gone, having gone back to her dressing room, and you were incredibly thankful that there was no one around to tease you about your inappropriate crush on your boss. Once pictures were done you followed Shawn back to his own dressing room, ready to go sleep the night away in your hotel room.

“That show was ecstatic! I don’t know if it’s just because I didn’t take my medicine, but the energy just felt so good!” Shawn was smiling from ear to ear as he pulled his sweat-filled tank top over his head, throwing it on the floor for you to inevitably pick up even if he didn’t intend for you to do so.

“No, that crowd was definitely off the walls. Alessia said the same thing when she came off,” you told him, making your way to sit on the couch.

“I’m just gonna take a quick shower and then we can head out.”

“Sounds like a plan. I can only imagine you’re excited to get back to the hotel, bet tonight’s show was more tiring than usual.”

“We’re not going back to the hotel,” he turned to you with a confused look on his face, bare chest on full display making your heart flutter, “Didn’t Alessia or Liv tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“You know what they probably just thought I’d tell you. Brian, Connor, Alessia, Liv, and the two of us are going exploring. We don’t have another show for like two days or something…”

“Three days.”

“You know what I meant, but that means we have time to explore tonight and rest tomorrow.”

“Don’t you just want to go to sleep?”

Shawn strolled over to where you were sitting, leaning over you to place his hands on the couch behind you. His face was inches from yours and you couldn’t help the flush that came over your cheeks from his bare skin being in such close proximity. “Sleep can wait. Now you-” he tapped the tip of your nose- “are going to find one of my sweatshirts in my bags because there’s no way you’re going out in that you’ll freeze, and I’m going to shower. Then we’re going to go exploring with our friends because sleep is for the week and we’re not weak.”

“You say that now, but your exhaustion tomorrow will say differently,” you called out as he pushed himself off the couch to head towards the shower.

“Good thing I have someone that will let me sleep on their lap during the bus ride!” You let out a huff of air, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see from where he was already in the bathroom. Making your way over to his bags, you began packing up his clothes from earlier along with the miscellaneous objects that were strewn around the room. You followed his request from earlier, grabbing his youth hoodie that you loved so much and throwing it over your light sweater for the arena. Immediately your body was filled with warmth, it truly was one of his warmest sweatshirts, and your nose was filled with his scent, not helping your racing heart. The night had barely started, but you had a feeling that your emotions were going to get you in trouble later on.

________________

“There is no way you can eat that entire churro in one bite, I refuse to believe it.” The six of you had only been out about 15 minutes before Brian decided he was already hungry and needed one of the churros from the stand just outside of the hotel. It had been decided that you would stop at the hotel with the rest of the crew to drop everything off before you would be able to explore around the city, which still wasn’t completely accepted by Andrew.

“Oh really? Bring it on Baby Brash, how much are we betting?” Brian countered, the foot long churro already paid for and in his hand.

“Two dollars.”

“Ten.”

“Five.”

“Deal.”

“You don’t think he’s really gonna do it, do you?” you whispered to Shawn, not wanting Brian to hear you and force you to join the bet.

“I don’t know, five dollars is five dollars. Brian’s not gonna give up that easily,” he whispered back, hands in his pockets as he watched Brian aggressively eat the poor churro.

Two minutes later, Brian was five dollars richer and your small group was admiring the architecture of the city. You had taken more candid photos than you could count, with a new selfie of you and Shawn as your lock screen, a result of him hacking into your phone claiming this picture of you with both of your tongues out and cheeks squished together was the best photo the two of you had. Now you, Alessia, and Liv were currently sitting on the grass, watching as the boys attempted to climb up a structure on a playground they found. As they say, boys will be boys and even if they were all considered adults now, they were still boys through and through. “So when are you going to tell him you’re in love with him?”

“What?!” you asked, eyes wide as you turned to Alessia, “What-what are you talking about?”

“Come on, you act like we don’t know about your crush on Shawn. You’ve literally told us before.”

“First of all, yes I have a crush on him, but I’m not in love with him! That’s crazy. And two, he’s my boss and he’s never going to know.”

“Honey, have you seen the way you look at him? You’re in love, stop lying to yourself,” Liv reasoned, Alessia nodding her head in agreement next to her, “And also who cares if he’s your boss? The two of you practically act like a couple half the time, he probably feels the same way.”

“But you don’t know that,” you whined, throwing your head back in frustration, “He’s so kind to everyone, that’s just how he is.”

“You know he acts differently around you, he doesn’t do half the things he does with you around the rest of his friends,” Alessia tried to convince you, but you weren’t having it.

“No he doesn’t, you guys are just trying to convince yourself that my feelings aren’t one sided.”

“Whatever you say,” Liv rolled her eyes playfully at you, earning a light swat in the shoulder from you as you laughed.

________________

“When are you gonna tell her you’re in love with her?” Meanwhile, the three boys had successfully climbed to the top of the structure and were having their own soul discovering conversation.

“Bro, what are you talking about?” Shawn stuttered, staring at Brian who was smirking in his direction.

“You know, Y/n? The girl you’re literally drooling over and get hearts in your eyes anytime you look at her?”

Shawn’s cheeks began to heat up immediately, his head dropping to hide his lovesick smile, “I don’t get heart eyes.”

“Yeah you do, man, I’m surprised she hasn’t said anything about how in love you are with her,” Connor chimed in, causing Shawn’s face to heat up even more.

“I like her, I obviously do, but I’m not in love with her. She’s one of my best friends, I’m not going to risk that to tell her about a silly little crush.”

“It’s obviously not a silly little crush if you act like a lovesick puppy around her.”

“I don’t act like a lovesick puppy around her!”

“Yeah, you do,” Connor snorted, trying to hide it with a cough.

“See, even Baby Brash sees it and he wouldn’t know love if it hit him in the face.”

Connor turned towards Brian, mouth wide open, “Hey, I know love.”

“Oh yeah?” Brian challenged, raising one of his eyebrows, “When was the last time you were in love?”

Connor stayed quiet, refusing to make eye contact with anything but the ground as he bit his lip in denial. “That’s what I thought, now Shawn you need to make a move!”

“No,” Shawn shook his head, refusing to acknowledge his brain that was screaming love, “I’m not in love.”

“Whatever you say.”

________________

“Ok everyone know the rules?”

“What rules? It’s just first duo to get to the gazebo first wins,” you argued, watching as Connor shrugged his shoulders innocently. Currently you were on Shawn’s back as he held you like you weighed a feather, which you knew was far from the truth. Alessia was waiting to get on Brian’s back while Liv and Connor stood on the side, ready to run alongside the two pairs to judge who reached it first. You were convinced that with Shawn’s long legs you would win, but Brian was the one to suggest the race and he was talking a lot of smack.

“If you know the rules so well then we should just start,” Liv pointed out, shooting a knowing look at Alessia as she jumped onto Brian’s back.

“Everyone ready? Three...Two...One...Go!” You squealed as Shawn took off with you holding on for dear life, laughing as he used his long leds to get an advantage. He laughed when you held on tighter, burying your face in his neck and fearing that he was going to drop you. You could hear the faint voices of Brian and Alessia behind you, convincing you that Shawn was well in the lead as the gazebo was only a few more feet in front of you.

“We won!” he exclaimed breathlessly, releasing his grasp on your legs to let you slide off his back.

“Take that...Brian?” your voice trailed off as you looked around, not seeing the rest of your friends anywhere in sight. The two of you couldn’t even make out their figures in the area you left them, leaving the two of you more confused than ever, “Where... where did they go?”

“I don’t know, I swore they were right behind us…” Shawn reached into his pocket, silently cursing his friends when he saw the text from Brian on his screen:

Go get ‘em loverboy;)

“I think they left us here,” he sighed, leaning against the railing of the gazebo.

“Why would they do that?”

“Beats me.” You turned to face him and with the moonlight reflecting on your face, he swore you had never looked more angelic.

“So what are we supposed to do? Call them, wait for them?” You shivered a bit when the wind began to pick up, Shawn immediately going into what one could only call protective boyfriend mode even if he had never admitted his feelings to you.

“Come here, you’re cold.” He opened his arms up to you and you immediately cuddled into his warmth, the man was a walking heating furnace.

“How are you always so warm?” you mumbled into his sweatshirt as he rubbed circles onto your back.

“Don’t know, but it sure comes in handy when someone is always cold.” You nodded against his chest and he prayed that you couldn’t hear how loud his heart was beating from you being so close to him, “What do you say we just walk around for a bit and if we don’t see them, we just head back to the hotel?” Not knowing what else to do you agreed, unwillingly peeling yourself away from his warmth and taking his outstretched hand in yours. His large hand engulfed yours, but you couldn’t help thinking about how natural it felt to have his hand in yours. The two of you walked around for what felt like hours through the city, laughing and smiling so much that your cheeks were beginning to hurt.

As the two of you began to head towards the hotel, you stumbled upon an older woman and who you assumed was her husband taking a nighttime stroll along the street you were on. “You two make such a cute couple!” The older lady gushed as you got closer to the two of them, “Do you remember when that was us, Hank?”

“Of course I do, honey,” the man responded, “I still love you just as much as I did back then. Don’t lose that you two.”

The two of you blushed, bashful smiles on your faces at the couples words. “Thank you,” Shawn spoke up, sending a kind smile to the elderly pair, “We promise we won’t.”

“Good, good. Have a nice night!”

“You too!” You both called out, sending a friendly wave in their direction as they walked away. You both walked in silence for a couple minutes processing their words, you biting your lip as your nerves bubbled in your chest, “Do we really look like a couple?”

Shawn stopped walking, pulling you with him so your chest was facing his. “I mean, sometimes we kinda act like one,” he told you sincerely, eyes dropping down to his feet as he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Have you ever thought about it?” you asked quietly, your brain screaming at you for your foolishness while your heart beated proudly.

“About what? Us as a couple?”

“Yeah.”

“You want my honest answer?” He looked you in the eyes, grabbing both of your hands and squeezing them lightly while you nodded, fear pooling in your eyes, “All the time.”

“You do?”

“How could I not?” he chuckled , lifting one of your hands to rest over his beating heart, “You feel how fast you make my heart beat? You’re the only one it does that for.”

You lifted his free hand to place over your own heart, letting him feel the rapid tempo, “Mine does the same for you, it always has.”

“Do you want to try this…this us? Our friends tell us we act like a couple anyways?”

You bit your lip slightly, a playful smirk on your face as you looked up at him through your lashes, “Shawn Mendes...are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Maybe,” he teased, hands coming to rest on your hips while yours came to his chest, “If I was, what would your answer be?”

“I don’t know, I’d have to ask my boss if he’s ok with me dating a coworker. So what does he say?”

“He says yes for sure.”

“Then it’s a yes from me.” Shawn wasted no time connecting your lips to his, pulling your body closer to his to eliminate any more space. No amount of dreaming could have prepared you for how his lips felt on yours, they were so soft and your whole body felt aflame from the passion he was putting into the kiss. You sighed when you felt his tongue swipe ever so gently against your bottom lip, immediately opening your mouth earning a moan of satisfaction from him when his tongue finally met yours. You were so consumed by him you weren’t even worried about how paparazzi could be nearby or if a fan saw you and took a picture, all you could think about was Shawn, Shawn, Shawn.

“I’m in love with you,” he mumbled between kisses, not wanting to part from your lips for even a second, “I’ve been in love with you so long I can’t remember not loving you.”

“I’ve always loved you too, Shawn. I’ve dreamed about this moment for so long.”

“Glad to know I’m not the only one that’s dreamed about you,” and as he continued to kiss you in the middle of the city, the moon shined down on the scene, the stars admiring the love that was only set to grow.

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connordavidscamera · 4 years

Text

Slow Burning Love | Connor Brashier

A/n: okay this is literally from March and I don’t even remember writing this, but I’m a sucker for friends to lovers so this is what we’ve got.

Summary: Everyone knows that Connor and y/n are more than friends. It’s time they admitted it to themselves

Warnings: fluff, alludes to smut

Word count: 2.5k

***

It’s a familiar thing. Maybe not for everyone, but it’s familiar for me. You know, when you’re in between with someone. You’re not quite a couple, but you’re not just friends. But you don’t want to put a label on it because that gives it the opportunity to be bad. The opportunity to end. So it’s easier to just not think of it as a relationship. Even if you are technically, maybe, kinda, not really seeing each other. Seeing each other and no one else. But you’re not exclusive.

Yeah, that’s what Connor and I have been dealing with for I’d say about six years now. Since we were fourteen years old, and he was dared to kiss me in a god awful game of truth or dare that neither of us wanted to play. But we were pushed into the room with six of our other friends who were far too excited to see us kiss. It was a first for both of us. And I don’t know how it worked, but from there it was kind of an unwritten rule. I was his and he was mine, but we weren’t each other’s. It made absolutely no sense and it still doesn’t, if I’m being quite honest.

We’ve hooked up a couple handfuls of times. And I can admit that I’ve only had sex with one other guy besides him. It was a one night stand sometime during my first semester of college. The guy only lasted about five minutes and I was forced to get myself off after he left. Connor took every opportunity to make fun of the incident, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s because he’s proud. Proud that he’s the only guy to have ever gotten me off. (Four times in one night, during one of our particularly needy fucking sessions.) But since we’ve only had sex five - okay, twelve, but who’s counting? - times, you can’t exactly call us fuck buddies because it isn’t a normal enough occurrence. We’re friends. Best friends. Best friends who have really enjoyed hearing our names slip from the other’s lips in a state of bliss.

“I think your hair’s brushed now,” Connor says, coming into view behind me. I set my brush on the counter and smile sheepishly.

“Just wanted to make sure.”

He nods. “I like the dress. But it’s getting a little chilly out.”

“Well then my best friend will give me his jacket, won’t he?” I tease, splitting my hair into three parts so I can braid it messily.

“Who said I was bringing one?”

I roll my eyes, “You always have one in your backseat. Except for the one time where you had, gasp, two!”

He chuckles and bumps my hip with his, taking up the other half of my mirror to fix his messy hair. “What do you think? Do I look sexy?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and I can’t help but laugh.

“Always,” I answer because it’s true. “Which perfume?” I tilt my chin toward my small area of perfumes on the corner of the counter.

“Which one smells like vanilla?”

“They all kinda smell like vanilla,” I tell him.

“No, it’s like a dark vanilla. It’s kinda seductive.”

I laugh. Seductive vanilla? What is this boy on tonight? “Black bottle,” I say, because even with his horrible description, I know exactly which one he’s talking about. I’ve become well versed in Connor speak over our sixteen years of friendship.

He reaches for it and pops the cap off, taking a sniff from the spritzer. He nods approvingly, “That’s the one.”

I tie the elastic around the end of my braid and take the bottle from his hand. Spraying myself a couple times. “Is that enough?”

He places his hands on my hips and inhales behind my ear, his eyes closed. If I’m not mistaken, I think I hear a groan escape the back of his throat. “Perfect.” He pulls away and leans back against the wall. “Are we going in your car or mine?”

I shrug, “Doesn’t matter. You’re driving either way.”

“We’ll take mine then. You almost ready?”

“I just need my shoes.” I slip past him and skip to my closet. “You said it was gonna get cold?” I yell from my spot, not realizing that he followed me into my room and is now laying on my bed, phone in his hands. “Yeah. Little bit. So I wouldn’t wear sandals.”

“Pink low tops?” I ask, holding them up to my dress. “They match the flowers.”

He chuckles, “You’re the cutest thing. Yeah, baby. Those look good.” He sits up. “Hey, what mood are we in today?”

“Why?” I grab a pair of no show socks from my drawer and walk over to sit next to him. I set my shoes in his lap.

“So I know what playlist we need for the drive.”

I hum, “I don’t know. What are you feeling?”

He gives me the look. The one that says “are you seriously asking me that question?”

I roll my eyes, taking a shoe from him and untying it. “Tame Impala. I know.”

“What were you playing in the bathroom? Was that Halsey?”

I nod and take my other shoe from him. “Yeah. I’ve been binging her discography again.”

He nods, “Alright, then I know just what we need.”

“Who’s all going to this again?” I ask once we’re in his car and he connects his phone.

“Honestly? I’m not even sure anymore. Shawn for sure, which means Brian too. I don’t know. My guess, there’s gonna be at least ten of us.”

---

There were more than ten. I didn’t know a good two thirds of them, but Connor was familiar with them which made me feel a little more at ease. But he’s somewhere near the water talking to a couple of guys so I wander, finding my way over to Shawn who’s strumming his guitar by the fire the group had started once the sun set.

“Leave it to Mr. Rockstar to bring his guitar to the bonfire,” I tease, sitting next to him.

“Would you expect anything less from me?” He asks with his award winning smile and stops strumming.

“Absolutely not.”

“You having fun? Where’s Brashier?”

“Talking to some guys over there,” I tilt my head in their direction and Shawn nods.

“Why aren’t you together?”

“We’re not together all the time,” I say.

“No,” he agrees. “But most of the time. Which leads to my next question. Why aren’t you together?”

I scoff and take a sip of my drink, suddenly wishing I had taken Sam up on his offer when he tried handing me a rum and coke that was definitely more rum than coke. “Because we’re not like that.”

“That’s not true.”

“And how do you know that, Mendes?”

“Because I see the way he looks at you. And the way you look at him. Neither of you are good at hiding it. You’re constantly eye-fucking each other. I’d be surprised if you haven’t fucked already.”

I take another drink, not dignifying him with a response, but he takes it as one.

“You have, haven’t you?” he chuckles. “Man, no wonder he never got laid on tour,” he mumbles that second part. I don’t think I was meant to hear it.

I shake my head, “Whatever. What were you playing before I interrupted?”

He smirks, “You know the song ‘what ifs’ by Kane Brown?”

I nod, “Yeah. That didn’t sound like it though.”

“Well it’s a very stripped down version of it,” he says. “Do you know it enough to sing it with me?”

I glare at him. “Did Connor tell you I could sing? Because he’s an ass and I cannot.”

He nods, “He did. He also showed me a video. You’ve got pipes.”

I gasp, “He has a video?!”

“He has multiple,” he confirms, nudging my leg with his. “Come on, sing it with me.”

I sigh, “Okay. Let me just pull the lyrics up. I’d rather not mess up horribly.”

“Alright. You’ll come in on the second verse.”

“Okay. Play it, Mendes.”

He starts strumming and now it sounds a little more like the song, I’ll admit. I don’t know how he does it, but he can play anything. “You say what if I hurt you / what if I leave you / what if I find somebody else and I don’t need you.” He’s only a few bars in and our crowd is already starting to assemble, making me way more nervous than I should be. But I mean, come on. I don’t usually sing around people I don’t know. “You say what if I break your heart in two then what / well I hear you girl / I feel you girl / but not so fast / ‘fore you make your mind up I gotta ask,” he tilts his head toward me, signaling for me to join in.

“What if I was made for you and you were made for me / what if this is it / what if it’s meant to be / what if I ain’t one of them fools playing some games”

I take in a breath when the chorus ends and my eyes catch sight of Connor who’s standing in front of us, his phone out, recording. I stick my tongue out at him which makes him smile and do the same, but he doesn’t stop recording. I take another deep breath and look down at the lyrics, knowing that it’s just my turn now. Shawn gives me an encouraging nod and I take a leap of faith, diving in.

“What if the sky falls / or the sun stops burning / we can worry about the what ifs ‘til the world stops turning / or I could kiss you / what if you liked it / well we ain’t ever gonna know unless we try it,” and he’s back in it with me and I think I can breathe again knowing that not everyone’s eyes are solely on me. But I do feel one pair. And they belong to a boy with blue eyes, perfectly tousled hair and a phone pointed only at me. They belong to my best friend.

My best friend who’s looking at me in a way that no best friend should. My best friend who is making my face burn from his stare. The stare that’s making me rub my thighs together because I’m suddenly imagining those eyes on me while we’re in bed and he’s between my legs, making me feel things that only he can make me feel.

Damn him for being so so good between my thighs.

I don’t notice that Shawn and I are no longer singing. Or that Connor’s now putting his phone back in his pocket. I don’t notice that I’m getting up, walking around the fire, determined to get to my favorite blue-eyed boy. And I definitely don’t let myself notice how he shivers when my hand latches to his bicep.

“You okay?” he asks, his face etched with concern.

“Take me home,” I beg, pushing myself into his side

“What’s wrong?” He places his hands on my waist, staring intently at my face and then down my body, looking for any signs of physical harm, I assume. “Are you okay?”

“Bubba,” I beg again, resting my forehead against his chest. He stiffens. He knows that tone. He also knows that I only use that name when I’m needy. And god am I so needy for him. “I want you. I need you,” I whisper, my other hand tangling in the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck.

“Are you sure?” He’s still looking me over, making absolutely sure I’m not physically hurt. But then he’s looking around us, probably noticing that most everyone’s eyes are on us - not that I expected anything less.

“Bubba, please. Please.” I bring his face down and I do something I would never do in public. I kiss him. I kiss him like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do. I kiss him like he’s the oxygen I need to survive, and not to be dramatic, but at this moment, I think he is.

And he kisses me back with just as much fervor. "Okay. Let's go home, baby."

Neither of us bother to say our goodbyes, mostly because anyone we would say bye to already had their eyes on us. They saw everything and you couldn’t mistake the beaming smiles coming from Shawn and Brian as we walked past them, Connor’s arm wrapped tightly around my waist.

“Wait, Connor.” I press a hand to his chest when we reach the car.

“What is it, baby?”

God he needs to stop calling me that because I will melt right here before I even get the words out. “I don’t,” I sigh. “I don’t want this to just be another hookup,” I say, my voice coming out just above a whisper.

“I don’t either,” he responds without hesitation.

“You don’t?” I look up at his beautiful eyes that are sparkling in the moonlight.

He shakes his head before resting it on my shoulder. “I’ve wanted you since I was fourteen years old. Nothing,” he groans, peppering kisses to the side of my neck. “Nothing has changed.”

I gasp when his teeth graze my skin. “I want you. I want you.” He licks a stripe over the bruising spot. “I want you,” He mumbles, pressing his hips against mine so I can feel the bulge in his jeans.

“Take me home, Connor. Please.”

“Okay. Okay. Let’s go.” He opens the car door and I slip inside, desperate to get back to my place because I need him. I’m aching for him. And with the way his hand is firmly gripping my thigh the whole drive I wonder if I’ll even be able to make it home.

He’s barely parked before we’re both rushing out of the car and into my place, his hands on my hips, his lips on my neck. When we finally get inside, he kicks the door shut before pushing me against it. “Baby, I need you to tell me that this is what you really want. Because I can stop now and we can -”

“I don’t want you to stop. I never want you to stop. Please,” I tug on his hair, covering his lips with mine. “Bubba please,” I whine, pulling on his bottom lip. “I want you,” I say for probably the thousandth time tonight.

He groans and grips my hips a little tighter. “You have me,” he confirms. “Let me take you to bed,” he mutters and drops his hands to the back of my thighs, lifting me up.

I squeal, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“You’re in for a long night, baby.” He grins walking us to my bedroom

I nod, “Promise?”

He smirks, dropping me on my bed. He’s pulling my shoes off and then he’s between my legs, his jeans rubbing against my covered heat, causing me to moan out loud. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” he says. “I can promise you that.”

***

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tuanhood · 4 years

Text

125 ft

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut, exes to lovers

warnings: 18+, language, dirty talk, cheating (?), public fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex

word count: 6,300+

summary: when you agreed to meet with your ex-boyfriend after a spur of the moment rendezvous at 35,000 ft, you were set on keeping the conversation strictly verbal... then how did it become so physical?

a/n: surprise!! 35,000 ft sequel! I know a few people wanted it so here it is :) this will be the final part but i’m open to later doing drabbles for this couple. Also the title of this one refers to how many feet seoul is above sea level just FYI! enjoy and let me know what you think!

35,000 ft

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

The blinking lights of the city outside your hotel’s window made you feel sick.

You had spent the last twenty minutes staring at them, hoping the city you loved so much would give you a sign of what to do, but instead you were met with silence. Nothing manifested itself into a response and looking down at the clock on your phone, you realized that you were out of time. You had to make a choice.

After you had landed, you agreed to meet Mark at your hotel’s bar for drinks. He had first suggested a place near his apartment, but you figured it would be best to keep this on your turf. Even though you didn’t really have a turf.

Staying at your hotel gave you the opportunity to say goodbye whenever you wanted and retreat back to your room without another word or glance from Mark ever again.

Disembarking the plane, you felt as though you knew what you wanted, but when you finally arrived to your room and saw the beautiful flowers Brian had sent, you felt sick to your stomach. Despite the disdain you had been feeling for him for… well... ever; you still couldn’t believe that you had cheated on him. You had cheated on him with the person that hurt you the most. Not only that, but you didn't even wait until you landed to be unfaithful. Did you really hate Brian that much?

The clothes laid out carefully on your bed taunted you. They wanted you to put them on and go up to the bar, to talk to Mark... probably to be seduced by him yet again.

Even though your plans were strictly to just talk to Mark, you had a feeling inside of you that made you feel like it was going to be more than that. If your flight with him told you anything, you might not even end up alone at the close of the night. But did you want that? Was that the right choice to make? If you wanted to stay sane, you were going to have to keep this meeting a verbal one... nothing physical.

You weren't even sure what you wanted to talk to Mark about. About your feelings? Your relationship? But... what relationship? The two of you didn't have that anymore... time had passed and now you had Brian.

You really did need to break up with him.

The light buzzing of your phone snapped you out of your "add break up with Brian to the to do list" daze.

Mark. hey I just got here. how long do you think you'll be? I can come to your room and get you ;)

Verbal meeting. Not physical.

You. Oh, it's okay! I'll be down there in a few.

No way in hell are you letting Mark Tuan up here. That was a death sentence if you wanted to keep the conversation to just talking.

Mark. sounds good. can't wait to see you princess.

And just like that you felt nerves return to your stomach. It dawned on you that although it had only been a few hours since you had last seen him, you couldn't wait to be with Mark again. This was no longer a decision you needed an answer for, you were going up there.

It took you roughly 15 minutes to get dressed before you were in the elevator, heading up to the bar. You focused on watching the numbers on top of the doors change, signaling you were getting closer and closer to seeing Mark. It was supposed to calm you down, but instead it caused your anxiety to grow at an alarming rate.

However, the moment you walked into the semi-crowded bar you felt all of your doubts fall away. Seeing Mark seated at the bar in his black turtleneck, long grey peacoat and matching black dress pants told you that you were in the right place. His attire tonight was a sign that maybe you don’t still know everything about him. The Mark you knew would have shown up in sweatpants, an oversized t-shirt and unlike the expensive dress shoes he was currently sporting, he’d have well-used Vans on his feet.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by the hostess and you’re almost annoyed, because you could just keep standing here watching the effortlessly beautiful man from a distance all night long.

“Can I get you a table ma’am?”

“Actually, I’m just meeting someone at the bar. I see him,” you nudged your head over in the direction of where Mark sat, playing with the rim of his glass.

Of course he couldn’t wait, you think to yourself.

The hostess looked at you a little uneasy, and for a moment you think that she’s upset that you’re meeting Mark, “Ah then, go right ahead.”

Her reaction sits with you for a moment. Great, he wasn’t even your boyfriend anymore, but you still had to deal with the jealousy that comes from other girls wanting a piece of him.

Nodding at her slowly, you passed around the stand she’s stationed at and moved towards Mark. With just one foot in his direction, it’s almost as though he could sense you. He stood up quickly and smiled brightly. His eyes wandering up and down your body, but you try to ignore it. You’re trying to divert from that tonight. This was going to be an adult conversation, not one where your lust for one another would do all the talking.

“Y/n... You look... beautiful,” his tone makes you blush, it’s almost as though he’s breathless just at the sight of you. It made you wonder if he was being serious or if he was just trying to get in your good graces.

“Thank you,” you replied, sitting down beside him, “couldn’t wait for me, huh?”

You motioned to his drink which is nearly gone and he blushed in embarrassment, “yeah sorry... I just felt like maybe I needed to get a head start.”

Frowning, “why would you need a head start?”

Mark fidgeted in his seat, scratching the top of his head, “I-Well I feel like I have a lot to say... and I figured the whiskey would help me.”

I have a lot to say.

You don’t know why, but his response almost felt like a slap in the face. Shouldn’t you be the one who has a lot to say? Shouldn’t you be the one that needs the extra drink or two to get through this? Especially when you weren’t even sure what the end goal of this meeting was supposed to be.

Turning away from him, you waved down the bartender, “could I just get a gin and tonic, please,” he nodded at you and you turned back to Mark, but soon you’re waving the bartender down again, “actually make it a double.”

“I guess you need the alcohol too,” Mark chuckled. You don’t want to respond, you’re afraid you might hit him if you do.

“Should we maybe move to one of the booths? For some privacy I mean... Just in case,” Mark asked you as soon as the bartender gave you your drink.

It wasn’t obvious to you as to why you and Mark would need a lot of privacy, but you found yourself agreeing. Regardless of where you were sitting, it wasn’t going to make this conversation any easier.

“So... Let’s... talk?” You asked both him and yourself once you’re seated in the dimly lit booth. You weren’t sure if you were ready for this, but with your drink securely in your hand, you felt somewhat better.

Mark sat his drink down on the table in front of you and exhaled deeply. He almost looked like he was going to throw up and you had to stop your hand from reaching out and soothingly rubbing his back.

“I- Y/n, I still love you. I never stopped… but you know that, don’t you?”

Okay so he’s starting off with that...

Even though you had known how he felt, just hearing him say it made you feel so... emotional. It had been something you too had felt after all this time, but you had tried your best to shove it as far down as you could. Him verbalizing it made you want to say it too, but you couldn’t... You weren’t ready for that and you weren’t ready to pretend things could be that easy.

You opened your mouth as if to say something, but you shut it almost immediately. You weren’t sure if your brain had comprehended his statement enough to respond. Luckily, Mark picked up on this and continued himself, “Of course you know that... It’s so painfully obvious. Anyone can see it... or hear it,” he paused to grab his drink and take a large sip, “when I got home I called my parents to let them know I made it back, and my mom immediately asked me what was wrong. She thought something was wrong because I sounded so happy, so... unlike the new Mark that’s been hiding behind himself for two years. When I told her I had seen you again, I thought she had a heart-attack because of how loudly she yelled.”

His words pained you, to know that Mark had been pretending to be happy in your years apart. It wasn’t only him who had been putting on a facade, you could feel your own pretending at false content - especially in the last few months. Your acting wasn’t fooling anyone anymore, including yourself.

“I know... I know how much I’ve hurt you, because in the process I’ve hurt myself just as much and I really really don’t know why. I don’t know why I stopped myself from just picking up the fucking phone and calling you. I’d been so hurt in the past by people thinking they know a fake version of me, that when the one person I truly trusted and felt at home with fell into that category I shut down. I was too proud to just talk to you and not throw away three years with someone who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I mean I even had the fucking ring for godssake.”

His confession caused your heart to ache. It wanted nothing more than to reach forward and encompass all that he is and was. The idea that Mark had been planning on asking you to marry him make his words and the fact that he let you go even more saddening.

“I think these past two years I’ve known how bad I want you back, how much I need you in my life, but being with you on the flight only confirmed it... And what we... what we did on the plane only solidified it. I’m willing to do it all, I’m willing to do anything to have you back. I’m serious this time. I’m not going to play any games or let anything get in the way of our happy ending,” Mark looked at you with hope in his eyes, “if you’ll let us have our happy ending... The one we deserve.”

You have to look away from him to stop yourself from crying. The way he looked at you is the way your Mark would look at you. The Mark you had fallen in love with and the Mark that had treated you like his world began and ended with you. Would it be ridiculous if you gave in and just let yourself love him again? Would you be betraying yourself and all that you had been through? Or would you finally be doing something for yourself... giving yourself the one thing that you knew would make you happy.

“What’s wrong?”

Mark’s question is what it takes for you to notice that despite your best efforts, you had indeed started crying. Immediately, Mark reached forward to wipe the tears off your cheeks and you’re taken back to the days when you’d come home sobbing, overwhelmed by school and work, but Mark always there to comfort you.

“I just…” Sniffling, you paused not exactly sure what was wrong.

Mark came in closer, until you could feel his breath against your neck, “baby, tell me what’s wrong and I promise I can fix it.”

Could he?

“I don’t think you can fix this.”

He cocked his head to the side, “How are you so sure?”

“Because you weren’t able to fix it last time.”

Silence. Silence fills the space between the two of you and only the chatter of others in the bar can be heard. Mark bit the inside of his cheek, unsure of everything, except for the fact that he wants you to know that all he wants is to take care of you. To make all the pain he had caused you, go away.

He brought his hand to your knee and caressed it softly, “maybe I wasn’t able to in the past, but I know I can fix it now. You just have to trust me and give me the chance to prove it to you. I think if anything, we both owe each other trust.”

That’s when you felt it, Mark’s hand slipping from where it rested securely on your knee to up higher on your thigh. It was oh so close to the hem of your dress and the way his thumb softly drew circles into your skin told you what he was planning.

“What are you doing?” you murmured.

“Let me show you how much I love you, how much I want to fix this,” there’s a glint of something in his eye and you can tell that your theories were right. This boy was, is and always will be the death of you.

You feel a wetness in your core grow at his words, “M-Mark, but we can’t her-”

“When has that ever stopped us before? Let me take care of you baby, just trust me.”

Exhaling deeply, you placed your hand on his, moving him up on your thigh until his fingers dip beneath the hem of your dress to show him that you did trust him.

You turned your head away from him, afraid that if you placed your gaze onto Mark’s it would be a dead give away for what the two of you were up to. You felt him squeeze your thigh as a warning to remain calm and relax, but it wasn’t that easy. Mark was always better at appearing calm and collected in these situations. He was good at keeping the easy grin on his lips and looking around the bar as if were people watching, when in fact he was thinking about what he could do to further torture you. You, on the other hand, had a hard time concentrating on anything but Mark as his hand drifted higher up your thigh and his fingers brushed the lace of your panties.

So much for leaving the physical out of this.

You kept your drink in your hand, teeth chewing on the straw, in an effort to keep yourself occupied so you wouldn’t sigh as he teased you. Being under Mark’s touch always left you feeling hazy and looking at you he knew it wouldn’t take much to have you falling apart for him. He wanted to take his time, he wanted to see you squirm, watch you struggle to keep quiet. The deep breath you took in as he gently brushed his fingers over your heat, told him he would get exactly that.

He alternated between brushing your thighs, his fingers warm against you, and brushing them over your clothed heat as he felt the material begin to dampen. “M-Mark,” you find yourself whispering, afraid someone might catch wind of the happenings at your table. He smiled at his name passing your lips, all he wanted to do was hear you say it for the rest of his life. And he was going to do everything he could to convince you. He waited until your shoulders relaxed, before he brushed the lace aside and let his fingers brush through your wetness, “baby, I got you,” he exhaled.

You gripped your glass a little too hard and attempted your best to cover the gasp you released as his fingers found your clit. You tried your hardest to keep your face neutral, but it wasn’t easy - especially with the way Mark’s eyes were devouring you. Returning your mouth to the straw, you once again pretended to focus on the drink in your hand, thinking maybe that would cover up the look on your face. Beside you, Mark hid his grin behind his drink and shifted to get a little closer as your thighs threatened to close around his hand.

You swallowed your desire to close your legs as Mark’s fingers rubbed lazy circles over your clit. "Want me to keep going?” Mark asked you, but it all sounded like white noise as you shifted enough for him to finally slip a finger into your heat. That’s all it takes for you to lose focus completely and forget where exactly the two of you are... and what you’re supposed to be doing.

Right... you’re in a bar and you were talking to Mark about... your relationship?

One would think that this whole situation would be handled frantically, that Mark would want to bring you the edge as quickly as he could given the public aspect of your surroundings. But Mark kept taking his time and you were almost in awe at how slow he seemed to be moving. It gave you the time to relish in the feeling and his touch, but also made you think about everything else you wanted him to do to you tonight.

Every drag of his fingers, every time his hand bumped your clit, you wanted to whine desperately at him but you knew that you couldn’t. You had to sit back, content with what he was giving, and stew in silence. And knowing Mark, that was something he loved about all of this, that you just had to sit there and pretend like he wasn’t bringing you complete bliss.

When your free hand moved to his knee, your nails digging into his leg through the material of his pants, he decided to do exactly what he said and take care of you, to show you how much he wanted to fix things. He’d teased you enough, had taken his time, and you’d been patient enough to keep the attention away from what was happening beneath the table.

He moved his fingers as quickly as he could to avoid drawing attention. It was an awkward angle, one that made touching you the way he really wanted to a little difficult, but he did the best he could with the space he had. If Mark was anything, it was an improvisor, and it was enough to draw soft sighs of pleasure, causing you to struggle in keeping your eyes open as you barreled toward your end.

You suddenly became grateful for how dim the bar was, even with the lamps on the table, your face was hidden enough that only he could see the way your eyes closed tightly, mouth opened slightly. The way you looked, the way you breathed, although in public, Mark relished in every little one. He knew it was for him, and only him, something he knew he would grow tired of. Mark felt overwhelmed with the feelings in his chest when your high came and he instantly dropped his head onto your shoulder, nuzzling you softly, “that’s it sweetheart.” He drew out your high as long as he could get away with.

When it finally became too much, you nudged at his hand and shifted uncomfortably at the overstimulation. Mark removed his hand and goes to grab a napkin on the table, but he soon catches your gaze and brings them up his mouth instead. Watching him clean your juices off of his fingers in a public place, made you feel like you were getting aroused all over again. Your core told you that you weren’t ready for this very public display of affection to be it for the night.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

Mark smirked at you, “Upstairs? But you haven’t even finished your drink yet...” He said it in a teasing tone, knowing exactly what you wanted from him. You dropped your drink onto the table so forcefully, some of it spilled out of the top of the glass, “forget the drinks.”

“Aye aye captain,” Mark replied with wide eyes at your behavior. When he put his hand up to get the waitress’ attention and close his tab, you’re pushed back into reality. Well... not completely, but you once again remembered something that you really shouldn’t be forgetting.

Brian.

Fuck.

You couldn’t cheat on him again, but you also couldn’t deny your body the pleasure it was currently aching to be given.

Before you could stop yourself, you’re out of your seat, Mark looking at you with a smile, “are you that eager? Just give me a second to pay and we can-” You cut him off briskly, “No! I’m just going to use the bathroom down here before we head up to my room... I’ll be right back.”

Mark could sense that you were nervous from the tone of your voice and he felt his stomach flip, wondering if you were changing your mind.

“Is everything okay? You know we don’t have to do this if you’ve changed your mind... We can just go up and keep talking, no press-” This time you placed a kiss on his lips to stop him from talking, “Mark I want you to fuck my brains out, I just need to go to the bathroom.”

You didn’t wait for his response before you headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind you as soon as you’re inside. Fuck... were you really going to do this?

Not dwelling on the fact that doing this would make you a terrible person, you tapped on Brian’s name under your recent calls list.

“Hey baby, what’s up? I was waiting for your call... Did you get my flowers?” He answered the phone almost instantly, you were hoping for at least a few seconds of dial tone to comfort you.

“Brian... um listen. This is kinda of a fucked up way of doing this, but...” you drifted off to give yourself a moment to think about how to deliver this, but stopped yourself from continuing when you hear him let out a giant sigh from the other end of the line.

“You’re breaking up with me aren’t you?”

You removed the phone from your ear to look at the caller ID to make sure that it’s indeed Brian who you had called. When you were sure, you brought it back against your cheek, “what? n-” you’re about to deny his claim, but that’s when you remembered that... yes that was why you were calling. To break up with him so this time you could fuck Mark guilt free. “Um yes... It is.”

“I kind of sensed that this was coming... You’d been growing distant recently.”

Hadn’t you been distant the whole relationship?

“I’m really sorry Brian... You’re a great guy honestly, but I just don’t think we work well together.”

“I mean I’m not going to lie and say I’m not hurt... I thought we could have had something that lasted in the long run, but I can’t force you to fake something you don’t feel. I hope you’re happy with him.” His words stunned you, causing you to almost drop the phone out of your hand. How did he know? Did he send spies to Seoul to follow your every move?

“W-What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re breaking up with me? Because you’re still in love with your ex?” His voice held no animosity, no venom towards you, he asked it as if it’s the most basic question in the world.

Clearing your throat, you’re surprised at the answer that comes out - even though you knew it would come out at some point. Things never stay hidden for long. “Yeah... I am.”

“Well I wish you two nothing but the best.”

With a final thank you, you hung up the phone and felt genuinely surprised. Surprise for how well your first - and hopefully last - phone break up went and at your blatant verbal admittance to how you still felt for Mark. Saying it out loud, made you feel like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, as if finally admitting you still loved Mark out loud was the cure to the original heartbreak he had caused you.

Exiting the bathroom and rejoining Mark, you almost felt like a new person. When he put his hand out to you to walk to the elevator, you take it gratefully.

“Everything okay?” He asked as soon as you’re inside the lift and pressing the button down to your floor, “I just broke up with my boyfriend, so everything’s great.”

Mark looked at you with a mixture of surprise and excitement, “what?”

Nodding, “he took it surprisingly well... so it’s cool.”

He turned away to hide the grin on his face. Had you broken up with your boyfriend for him? Was this the sign he needed to know that you were his again? Or would that be jumping to conclusion too quickly?

Getting out of the elevator when you reached your floor, you couldn’t keep your hands off of Mark. The two of you had your lips desperately attached to one another, practically rolling against the hallway’s wall. You’re so succumbed with Mark that you almost forget which room is yours.

Grabbing the key out of your bag, you kept Mark’s lips on yours, his tongue delicately licking into your mouth and making you moan against him. You tried your best to maneuver and tap the keycard against the door without removing yourself from him.

As soon as you both entered and the door shut, you heard Mark’s commanding tone against your lips, “clothes off, on the bed, hands and knees princess.”

It isn’t like you to protest to a request like that, especially when Mark was in his “dominant” mode, but you found yourself whining. “Mark... please... can I-” Before you could truly protest and embarrass yourself in asking for what you really wanted right now from Mark, he cut you off. “You don’t have to say it baby, I know how much you’ve missed having my cock in your mouth. So long to go without it, don’t you think?”

Without a word, you looked down at your feet and nodded at Mark’s very correct assumption. You felt an unbearable want to have your mouth around him. It had been so long since you had actually sucked someone off - no one coming even close in comparison to Mark.

“We’ll let you have exactly what you want.” His tone suggested that you having him in your mouth was more for your pleasure than for his and for some reason that excited you even more.

You rushed past him and dropped down to your knees once you’re in front of the large king sized bed, eagerly waiting for him to join you. At your actions, he broke character for a moment and gave you that boyish smile and giggle that’s a package deal when it comes to Mark. You’re about to laugh at yourself, but when his cocky attitude and lustful eyes returned, you stopped yourself short.

Joining you in the bedroom, Mark positioned himself to sit on the edge of the mattress, smirking at how ready you looked to take whatever it was he wanted to give you. “Let’s make you a happy girl, shall we?” Unbuttoning his jeans and shimmying them down his legs until they rest around his ankles, you attempted to help him, but he tutted, “did I say you could touch yet?”

For a moment you’re afraid he’s just going to forget the whole thing and you quickly tucked your hands behind your body, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “no,” you mumbled.

Mark’s pleased at your response, based on how you had been acting earlier and even on the plane, he was afraid this side of you had been completely erased. He was happy to see you were still so willing - as long as he was the only one who got to see it.

It suddenly dawned on him that he shouldn’t be thinking about that... because to be honest, someone probably already had seen it. Someone had already taken his place inside of you before, including that stupid boyfriend of yours - or well... ex-boyfriend. Mark snorted to himself in thought, join the club dude.

Although he knew that he had no right, this theorization made him mad. So mad, that he was about to take it out on you with his cock.

Removing himself from his underwear, you felt yourself grow in excitement and arousal when you see his leaking cock. When you looked back up, however, to meet Mark’s eyes, you can tell his demeanor has changed slightly. No longer was it just lust that was clouding his pupils, but you could sense a kind of frustration.

You didn’t think much more about it as he smirked at you, positioning himself against your lips. Showing your compliance, you opened your mouth and let his cock rest on your tongue, closing your lips around the head once he gave you the “go ahead” nod that you needed.

Mark pushed his hips forward, inching further inside of your mouth, trying to savor the warmness of you. His cock twitched once the tip reached the back of your throat and you moaned at the feeling.

“No one’s ever made you feel this good just by sucking them off, huh princess?”

You didn’t answer him, but began moving your head up and down on him, pulling off of him completely with a pop and then taking his entire length back in. The feeling made Mark groan, and you looked out the corner of your eyes to notice the way he gripped the bed sheets beneath him. Through his labored breath he asked you his question again, “answer me baby, no one’s ever had you wet just from giving them head before, have they?”

This time when you didn’t answer, Mark positioned his hand on the back of your head and pulled you closer on him, until you’re gagging around him, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Only you,” you attempted to say with his cock in your mouth, but it came out more like muffled noises that aren’t coherent by any means. He released his grip from your head and gently stroked your hair, giving you the okay to continue bobbing your head up and down, faster and faster until Mark’s breathing becomes erratic.

You’re so lost in your fluid movements that almost felt like a second nature that you barely noticed Mark pulling back from your mouth until he’s completely gone. He laughed when you whined in protest and leaned down, placing his hand under your chin, “Even though you still have the best mouth around, I’d rather my cum go somewhere else.”

Somehow you found yourself even more docile now than on the plane. Without him asking you to do anything, you thought back to his first request when you entered the room and slowly removed the dress off your body. Mark licked his lips hungrily as if he’s were a predator stalking his prey, watching you undress yourself for him and moving past him on the bed once you’re naked. You got on all fours, positioning your hips and ass out towards Mark, aching to be filled.

Mark’s painfully hard length twitched at you so full on display for him, and he stood from his spot on the bed to remove his underwear, “so ready for me, going to reward my good girl for listening so well.”

He entered you so suddenly with a hard thrust, that you found yourself being pushed forward, your hands shaking, threatening to come tumbling down. Although he had been inside you so recently, you were still stunned at just how well he fit. How the stretch of your walls around Mark’s cock was the blissful border between pleasure and pain. No one had ever had you like this and you knew no one else ever would.

“I will never get tired of this,” Mark mumbled into your hair, holding onto you with his fingers digging against your soft skin. His thrust started off at a slow rhythmic pace that he knew would drive both your body and your mind crazy. You wanted nothing more than him to pound into you, to chase your second orgasm of the night and for him to claim you.

He groaned the moment you clenched against his cock, to tell him that you weren’t playing around. Mark may be the one who took control in the bedroom, but if you weren’t happy with it, you were going to show him who was actually in charge. To remind him that really you have final say.

At this, Mark picked up his pace, “Ah, I know what my princess wants,” he thrusted in and out of you faster and harder, until he found your sweet spot. When he does, you let out a desperate moan that’s so needy, Mark let his head fall against your back and you felt him smile against your skin. The familiar twist in your stomach began to build up again as Mark continued his unfathomable pace, his hips never stilling.

“Come on baby, cum on my cock,” he whispered, his voice so deep it sent shivers down your spine. That was all you needed to spiral down, clamping on him and seeing stars beneath your tightly closed eyes. Watching and feeling the way you spasm around him, Mark’s own thrusts began to grow sloppier - indicating how close he is. Still recovering from your release, you tried your best to help by pushing yourself back against him and using the little strength you had to squeeze yourself around him, despite the overstimulation.

His breaths were heavy against your back and you knew he was almost there, almost at his wits end. That’s when you said it and Mark felt himself combust completely...

“Mark, I love you.”

Just like that, with two more sharp thrusts and a final loud groan, his release coated your walls. He’s unsure what it is that finally sends him over the edge, but he has a feeling it’s mostly incited by your confession. He leaned forward to place a kiss on the nape of your neck, before slowly pulling out, the wetness escaping you and cascading down your inner thighs onto the hotel bed.

Mark went to the bathroom to grab a towel to clean the two of you and laid down beside you when he’s finally done.

Unlike when the two of you had hooked up on the plane, this time it felt even better to be able to have Mark wrap his arms around you and stroke your hair, leaving kisses on the top of your head. It felt like if you were to never get up from your spot next to him, everything would still be okay.

“So does this mean-” before Mark could complete his thought, you cut him off, “yes.”

The smile on his face stretched so far and so wide, Mark was sure that he was tearing the the muscles around his mouth. Sure it had taken two years, but he was finally where he wanted to be the most with the person he wanted the most. Fuck the muscles.

Since you had first boarded the plane with Mark, there had been an idea forming in the back of your head. At first you had shoved it deep down to the back of your mind, because you thought it was psychotic and ridiculous, but you realized now that it was just a way for your heart to tell you what you truly wanted and needed.

“What if I move to Seoul permanently? My job already makes me come here so much... I might as well transfer.”

It seemed like that wide smile wasn’t going to leave Mark’s face any time soon. He leaned into you and attacked you with kisses all over your face until you were giggling and telling him to stop through your squealing.

“You would leave LA? For me?” Mark asked when he finally broke away from you.

You looked away from him shyly, wondering if maybe it was too much or too big of a thing to suggest so early, but your heart nearly dropped when Mark spoke next.

“Marry me.”

“Mark!” you exclaimed, taken aback by his question that wasn’t even a question since he presented it as a statement, “We have to see if this... the new you and the new me still work together. It’s been two years and I’m sure we’ve both changed.”

Matter of factly, Mark shrugged his shoulders, “I just know that we still do.”

“I know but marriage right away is too...” you drifted off unsure of how to complete the thought.

“Too perfect?”

Being married to Mark was something you had always longed for and no matter how much you still felt that longing even now being with him after all this time, you had to make the right decision and not be hasty. You were both different people now.

“Maybe too fast...” you replied biting down on your lip.

“You’re the one who’s thinking about moving to Seoul permanently!”

“Yeah but that’s to see if this will work!”

“Okay fine, but just know that in my mind, the way that I’m thinking of it is that future you is going to say yes, so we’re pretty much engaged.”

You playfully hit his chest and roll your eyes, “ugh whatever Tuan.”

All it took was three months for Mark to be right.

#got7 fanfic #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan fanfic #got7 smut

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ineloqueent · 4 years

Text

from sea to stars

Brian May x Reader

synopsis: from sea to stars, the world is ours.

warnings: brief allusion to depression

word count: 2.6k

a/n: happy birthday sofie ( @drivenbybri )!! i hope you have a wonderful day, you absolute star. this is inspired by the moodboard you made me of holidaying with brian in italy <3

⭒

1992

The sun had gone down hours and hours ago, and yet, Positano was only just awakening.

Twinkling lights and narrow, cobblestone paths wound down the cliffs until the land dispersed and gave way to water, and the starry sky sparkled above a sea shining beneath the newly risen moon.

The tables were being set out for dinner, shop owners returning from their midday naps that had lasted long beyond their prescribed time allotment, elderly women gossiping as they hung up their washing, fishermen returning from the ocean to play their parts in the family scene.

There were young people too. Lovers and lone wolves alike, friends and proclaimed family, they laughed as they ambled half-tipsy down the streets of their village, or shouted to one another as they ran between the alleys and dodged adults who had the mind to complain about the noise.

It was by no means a quiet night in Positano, but then again, no nights were ever quiet on the Italian Riviera, with such a lively population, driven by music and a little bit of madness.

Or those were Brian’s words anyway.

He’d said that as the two of you had wandered along the low wall by the water, and you’d smiled fondly at him as he’d swung your hand in his own, enunciated his words in that particular manner of his, with that slightly-distracted air, which gave way to rapt attention once his thoughts had been spoken.

“A people, a village, driven by music, and just a little bit of madness.” He’d laughed then, a soft, breathy sound, one that you only ever heard when it was just the two of you, shrouded in the intimacy of solitude, where you felt like you were dreaming because you felt like you were standing at the centre of the universe.

And right now, there was nothing more to the universe than Brian’s hand clasped with your own. The lights of Positano caught on his ringlets as he smiled beneath the glow of the full moon.

Somewhere along the way, he pulled you to the side of the path and stopped beside a bush full of crepe-pink flowers. He broke one off from an overhanging branch and proceeded to brush the hair from your face with light fingers before he placed the flower behind your ear.

You smiled up at him again, because how could you not— this gentle soul with his wandering mind and ever-generous heart, who swore he loved you more than you loved him.

But you wouldn’t— you couldn’t— believe him when he said that, because surely, he could not have felt any love greater than the one that overwhelmed you, bubbled and overflowed from your heart, when he smiled at you, when he so much as simply looked at you, and you found yourself falling in love all over again. Surely there were limitations as to how much one person could love another, and surely you had reached those limitations with the way you loved Brian. Except for the fact that each day you spent with him made you love him just a little bit more.

There was always something new to learn about Brian, how he had a different frown for different types of concentration, whether it was music or mathematics, and how he hummed to himself when he thought no one was listening. He could be a grumpy sod sometimes, but otherwise, he had a mild temperament, and his darker moments always yielded far sweeter ones. He was stubborn, but somehow, he always came around when you laid your head on his shoulder and took his hand in yours. He would talk and talk about what was bothering him, hardly taking a breath, quite often on the verge of tears, but then you would look to him and nod.

“I know,” you’d say.

It was hard these days. But you promised him that better ones lay ahead.

He would sigh softly and kiss your forehead, and the two of you would sit together quietly for a little while longer before going about the day.

But here, in Positano, the world seemed to spin more languidly than anywhere else, the sun lingering high in the heavens, unperturbed by its winter curfew, and time was felt much more as a construct than a reality.

At nine o’clock, you and Brian sat down to dinner at a little place that overlooked the bay, mid-way up the cliffs and boasting the best scenery in the village, secluded beneath the lemon and pine trees, with a clear view of the rolling waves and the boats that rocked atop them.

“So,” said Brian, setting down his menu to look at you, “what is it to be?”

“Hmm…”

“Pizza or pasta?” he joked, as the two of you had done since you’d arrived in Italy two weeks ago. You were beginning to like this modified routine of lying in the sun and squealing like a teenager when Brian tossed you into an oncoming wave, winding your fingers through his curls as you kissed him beside cyprus trees, tasting homemade wine on his lips and seeing the sunlight brighten his eyes anew.

“I think it’s a pasta kind of night,” you replied, and within a few minutes, Brian had ordered for the both of you in haphazard Italian.

Somewhere, there was somebody strumming a guitar and whistling, and the sound echoed softly between the close-packed buildings of the village, reminding you of another time. Exactly what other times you were reminded of was unclear, but there was a certain nostalgia to the old architecture, old families, old memories of Italy, and you closed your eyes to drink in the music as Brian’s hand found yours again.

“Someone’s playing guitar,” he said, and you murmured a response. “Makes me want to write a song. Maybe I will.”

You opened your eyes.

Brian hadn’t written in ages.

He associated writing with his bandmates, and, rightfully, found the idea of writing quite painful, without them.

But here he was, saying he wanted— no, that he would— write a song, and you felt the world grow a little lighter.

You tugged on his hand. “Will you write one about me?” you said.

A smile broadened his pretty lips. “I’d write you a thousand songs if you asked.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “There’s nothing about me that warrants two songs, let alone a thousand.”

Brian lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a tender kiss to your skin. “That is utter rubbish, and you know it.”

You had nothing to say to that, so you settled for a blush and a smile, and glancing down at the table, at heart still the teenager you’d once scorned, but had now come to love for her belief in the goodness of people, for the purity of her love toward those who loved her in return.

You weren’t old, but god, Brian made you feel young.

Young enough to believe that everything would eventually work out for the best, young enough to imagine that the sea and the stars went on forever, and that happiness came to those who deserved it.

It was all very unrealistic, but then again, you had never thought that someone as beautiful and kind as Brian could exist in this world plagued by human cruelty.

“Love?” Brian’s voice called you from your thoughts. He was looking at you concernedly, the crease between his brows for once revealing his age, some of the tragedies which he has lived through. His normally cheery smile hid these little sadnessess, but suddenly, they were as plain to you as the moon shining down from the gradient of the Italian summer night sky. “What are you looking at? Have I got something on my face?’

He lifted a hand to his cheek, but you beat him to the chase, running your thumb softly over his chin.

“No,” you murmured, staring into those endlessly hazel eyes. “Just you.”

His smile melted you. He pressed a lingering kiss to your fingers and said nothing more.

The food came and went, and after the two of you stayed a while longer, as was custom to do in Italy, you rose and ambled down the winding paths of Positano again.

It was an aimless sort of wandering, but that was the beauty of it all. There was nothing to be done, no task to be completed or deadline to be met. There was simply you and Brian, and the hidden corners of a foreign city, begging to be explored.

One such hidden corner involved a bookshop, and Brian was quick to pull you inside before you walked on by it.

You had almost not seen the place, shrouded by overgrown shrubbery riddled by the night-blooming jasmine. Indeed, Brian had not seen it either, but had noticed the aroma of the jasmine, and had glanced over his shoulder to catch sight of the rickety little shop.

Inside, there were books everywhere, stacks on the floor that stretched toward the ceiling in winding towers, shelves overcrowded with books both vertical and horizontal, tables and chairs occupied by novels and fairy tale collections in place of people.

Brian navigated the maze of the shop with purpose, and you smiled bemusedly.

“Anything in particular?” you asked him, as though you were the shop clerk.

He stopped briefly to wink at you. “Poesia,” he said.

You left the shop only ten minutes later, Brian with a tattered book beneath one arm. He led the way down the cliffs, until at last the sea shone before you once more, and the sand sparkled with moonlight like it was made of stars.

As the waves washed ashore and the sea breeze drifted in to accompany them, you looked up at Brian, who cast his eyes about the beach.

“Please tell me we’re not going swimming,” you said, to which he laughed.

“No, it’s a bit too dark for that. And with the way the waves are cresting right now, I’d say we would easily be carried out to sea, from one moment to the next.”

You blinked, puzzled. “So what are we doing?”

“Absolutely nothing at all.”

“Nothing?” you said, considering the purposeful way he had surveyed the beach.

“Well,” he stepped into the sand and pulled you with him, “not quite.” He smiled again, that lovely, secretive smile that was yours alone to witness; he never smiled that way for anyone but you. “Come on.”

He turned to his right, and you perceived a calmer swell of tide, mitigated by a small outcrop of rock which shielded the shore from the wilder waves.

Brian sank down into the sand and drew you with him, easing you down so that your head rested in his lap, and his hand in your hair.

You closed your eyes, as he opened the book and began to read softly, the hum of his words drawing you close to dance with your imagination, to see the lights and colours of the stories he spun, because even if you could not understand the language of which they were made, you could hear the intention, the emotion, of which they had been composed.

It occurred to you then that the most beautiful sound in the world was that of Brian’s voice. It was a striking thought, yet the realisation was so simple to you that it brought tears to your eyes to think that you should have been so lucky as to hear it. He spoke more beautifully than the wind could have hoped to speak, in its whispers through trees, more beautifully than the rush of the ocean could have dreamed to emulate, in its effervescent, ever-changing beauty. You would have given up anything, everything, to listen to him forever, for there was such love in the pensiveness with which he chose his words, such care in the fluidity of his speech, the melody of his song.

But then the lilt of his voice became suddenly unfamiliar, and you opened your eyes to find that he had diverted from the script of the book in his hand, and as his fingers ran through your hair, you realised that they were trembling.

“Brian,” you began softly, sitting up to take his hands in yours. He had stopped speaking entirely, and worry gripped you at the expression on his face— the bitten lip, the watery eyes. “Brian, what—”

But he shook his head, shushed you gently, and you closed your mouth, though your concern did not subside.

With a shuddering sigh, he began anew.

“Il mondo è bello,” he recited, “dal mare alle stelle, e se mi salvi, sarà nostro.”

“I don’t understand,” you murmured despairingly, but he pulled his hands from yours, and your gaze followed his movements as he picked up the book once more.

“Quindi, salvami, amore mio, e sposami.””

The pages fell open then, and at the perfect time, too, because you had been about to question him further, to impress upon him just how little of the Italian he spoke made any sense to you.

But betwixt the pages of the book, as answers often do, lay the only answer you needed.

A little jewel, shimmering atop the circle of a thin silver band.

A ring.

Your eyes abruptly filled with tears, and if you had been able to see more than blurry shapes before you, you would have sworn that Brian’s eyes did too.

His voice nearly failed him when next he spoke, a stutter in his throat to match the one which pulsed in your heart.

“The world is beautiful, from sea to stars, and if you save me, it will be ours. So save me, my love, and marry me.”

You could not speak, for the emotion that had thickened the air in your throat.

Maybe it was the ease with which he had spoken the words, because though he had stumbled through the Italian, there had not been even a glimmer of hesitance in his eyes as he had bid you marry him.

Maybe it was how he gazed at you now, the way you had never imagined anyone would gaze at you, or how he looked ready to surrender himself to shame, should you have said no.

Maybe you were just amazed. Amazed at how he loved you. Amazed by how little you understood of the world, in contrast with how certain you were that nothing would make you happier than to spend the rest of your life with Brian May.

“Will I marry you?” you repeated, as the smile flooded your lips and the tears your cheeks.

Brian nodded silently, his chest rising and falling in a way that betrayed his quickened heartbeat.

You nodded in return.

Brian drew nearer to you until the two of you were leaning forward in the sand, until his fingertips ghosted the sides of your face. “Please,” he murmured. “Please, will you say it?”

Your eyes fluttered closed and the world sank into darkness, for but the lightness of his touch. The word fell from your tongue.

“Yes,” you said.

As the ring found its home upon your finger, the world spiraled out of touch with reality, for surely you must have been dreaming. The salt of your tears sweetened the taste of his mouth as he kissed you, with a tenderness even more beautiful than his words.

Yet, when you opened your eyes again, you knew that you could not be dreaming, because Brian still knelt before you, beneath the midnight moon of Positano.

And suddenly you understood what he had meant.

Because with your promise and his still tingling upon your lips, you knew that from sea to stars, the world would be forever yours.

⭒

a/n: my sincere apologies to anyone who actually speaks/understands italian. i neither speak not understand the language, but i had someone who does look over the grammar. i’m still not 100% sure that it’s right, but hey, i tried :)

#tina's writing #brian may x reader #fic

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