I bet Billy would sing in his local church choir and he’d be really good at it. Can you write something about it? Thanks
Oh my GOD YOURE SO RIGHT I HAVE TWO THOUGHTS
𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐫
Billy’s always had a voice of gold, you told him often. At first he was a bit shy of it. But you heard him singing once, when he thought nobody was around; he’d been tending to his horse, tying her to a post in front of your house so he could come inside to be with you. His voice was low yet powerful, the timbre deep in his chest as he sang, “Even though my eyes are hazy, n’ my thoughts might be narrow..” you’d leaned against the doorframe, staying silent. “Where y’been don’t bother me, or bring me down with—“
Billy’s baritone died in his throat as his blue eyes lifted to see you, watching him with a fond smile. He cleared his throat, a grin spreading across his cheeks. “Baby. Didn’t hear y’there.”
“You have a beautiful voice, Billy.” You shake your head, meeting him halfway as he walks up the steps to the porch. He presses a peck to your lips, shakes his head right back at you with drawn brows as he leans away. “Nah, you like it?” When you hum in agreement, his grin only grows. After that, you were constantly asking him to sing to you.
He’d sing to you in the kitchen, stealing you away from cleaning up after dinner to sway around with you. Billy’d sing to you as you laid under a tree, his fingers lazily carding through your hair. Sometimes, late in the night when you couldn’t sleep, you’d lay your head on his chest and feel the vibrations of his voice through your cheek, the low sound of his humming filling your ears.
His voice was so deeply resounding that you encouraged him to join the choir at church. He’d been saying he wanted to go to mass on Sundays again, so you felt it was perfect. At first Billy was hesitant, but oh, did he get into it.
The church was a bit surprised to find an outlaw in their midst, but the overall sentiment seemed to be that he was God’s child, too. So every Sunday, Billy wore an old robe along with other members of the choir, singing hymns deep from his chest. The words were familiar from his youth, the whole experience like brushing dust off an old book to find that he still remembered the print.
Not very many men sang in the choir. Billy, handsome, young and with a voice of a practical angel (your words, not his!) quickly became a large part of the church. When you and him went into town, a place far from Lincoln that you’d found peace in, people greeted him in the street. Recalled his name not from a wanted poster but from Sunday mass, complimenting his voice— people finally knew him for something good.
But it somehow always felt more special to sing in a soft, almost hushed voice for only your ears. Something tenderly intimate about the way your eyes would flutter shut as you were lulled by his low timbre.
OR OR OR
You’ve just moved to the town, and coming to church on Sundays with your parents, you cannot help but notice the handsome man in the choir. He stood out among the older, religious women and the younger children, one of the few choristers around your age. God, it wasn’t right how much you stared at him during the Sunday service. You focused more on his deep blue eyes, his stubble and his broad shoulders than the pastor’s preachings sometimes.
His voice was deep and baritone, yet dipped in smooth honey. You’d seen him around town now and then, but you were so terrified to speak to him. Your mother knew his, but you’d never actually met him himself. Hell, you didn’t even know his name.
Perhaps, though, after a late-night argument with your parents, you find refuge in the dark chapel. You push open the door, that familiar voice gracing your ears in a folk song you think you recognize before it falls silent. You find yourself looking into the church-choir-boy’s azure eyes, blown wide and buggy, as he sat in one of the back pews of the church. He doesn’t stand. “Hey.”
“Hi.” You manage, frozen in the doorway. You’re too focused on the dark muss of his hair on his forehead, the large slope of his nose, the subtle quirk of his lips as he scoots over in the pew. That shocks you into motion, you walk closer. “Why’re you..”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He admits, eyes following you as you daintily sit beside him. He stares for a few moments, and you put all your effort into staring at the stained glass window at the front of the chapel. The colored panes filter the moonlight into bright, beautiful colors onto the floor, and draping its dyed light over you and the boy from choir. You take a deep breath inward. “I know you.” Is all he says.
“I know you.” You murmur in reply, surprised at your own confidence. “You sing in the choir.” He nods, an amused look creeping across his face.
“I do.” He hums, leaning back in his seat. “You always sit in the third row.” You drew your brows, smiling a bit. Was he really paying that much attention? As if he understood your question before you could get it past your own lips, he gave you a charming, lopsided grin. “Y’tend t’notice when somebody’s starin’. M’ surprised you didn’t notice me.”
You just feel.. awestruck. You let a sweet smile curl your lips, and your eyes drift to the cross at the front of the church. It takes you a moment to remember that you hadn’t yet, but you finally murmur your name to him.
He practically beams at you, shifting in his seat and nodding a bit. For a moment you wonder that he might be just as happy to finally meet you as you were with him. In that low, deep baritone just as sweet as his singing voice, the ‘boy-from-the-choir’ becomes, “Billy.”
OH WHYYYYYYYYY this is just the most darling thing 😭😭😭
both instances are so sweeeeet! like I just- I- hngghgdddAHHHHHH
no thoughts just this "Recalled his name not from a wanted poster but from Sunday mass, complimenting his voice— people finally knew him for something good."
and this "“Y’tend t’notice when somebody’s starin’. M’ surprised you didn’t notice me.”"
like AHHHHHHHHHHH also the idea of him singing for you is just so 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹like he would literally do anything you askeeedd!
Alex and stranger!reader hooking up during one of his vacations. He goes months without seeing you until he runs into on the street in New York or something.
*There is an idea but I cannot explain it, let me know if you like it
౨ৎ꣑ৎI NEVER DO THIS౨ৎ꣑ৎ
꣑ৎyou meet alex on vacation...and then again꣑ৎ
fem reader x alex nilsen
large text version here!
The bell jingled above the door as you stepped into the bookshop, the floorboards creaking under your feet. It was a charming little store. You made a point to visit every time you came to Linfield to see your parents, and as a result you traded Christmas cards with the owner every year. There was nothing to report each year really, just updated pictures of your cat, but the few recipients of your cards seemed to enjoy them.
You said hello to Sharon and asked about her grandkids. She eagerly directed your attention to the picture hanging behind the register and you commented on how much they had grown. Sharon wished you happy browsing, and you disappeared into the shelves.
It was easy for you to fall in love with Linfield. Even though you hadn't grown up here, you found its quiet charming, the peace such a contrast to the cities you'd known all your life. It was easier to think here. You wanted to think here.
Selecting a book with a pink spine, you flipped it over and studied the description. You needed a new read for at least the length of your visit through the week. Summers here were too sweet not to stay for awhile. Your parents liked to take long drives and spend time reading, lazy summer activities that nourished you while you had them. Right now, you had a hot coffee from the shop nearby in mind, a treat to start your new book with.
Turning the corner, you knocked into someone, getting elbowed by the bookshelf. "Oh-sorry!"
"It's okay. I didn't watch where I was going." A male voice. You looked up, eyes widening. Tall, dark hair, shoulders hunched like he was trying to fit into a box.
"Alex?" You spoke before you could think.
It was upon you again before you knew it. The cool sea breeze on your neck, the taste of strawberry on your tongue. A handsome stranger bumping into you and spilling on you. His frantic apologies and your laugh telling him you didn't like this dress that much anyways.
He was different from men you met at places like this. Sweeter, more solid. You talked about how sticky the floor was and the works of Hemingway. This got his hands under your skirt.
Now, his brow was scrunched, eyes round as yours were. You held your book to your chest like a shield. He was wearing a button down shirt that looked familiar. You dropped your gaze to his arms, tan and thick, just how you remembered them.
When you gathered the courage to meet his eyes again, blue and clear, a smile tipped your mouth upward. His lips parted, revealing a sliver of his white teeth.
You laughed, bubbly and surprised. He chuckled along with you, and you leaned against the shelves, smiling fondly. "Do you want to get a coffee?"
"Yeah." He nodded, something soft in his eyes. "That sounds nice."
"I never knew anyone who Sharon was so happy to see."
You looked up from your coffee cup, a smile blooming on your face. "She's an old friend."
"I used to come and help her after school," Alex said, his eyes never straying from yours. "It was my first job."
"That's sweet." There was a gentle breeze in the air that ruffled your hair. "I guess I never asked where exactly in Ohio you were from."
"We had other things on our mind." The statement made you laugh, but he was right.
"I had fun that night, Alex," you said, leaning your cheek on your palm. "I liked being with you."
"I liked being with you too." He straightened in his seat. "I don't usually-"
"Yeah, me neither," you laughed, taking a sip of coffee. "It felt right. And you're so…"
"Awkward?"
"I was gonna say smooth. In a cute way." You giggled at his expression. "I'm not explaining myself very well. It was sexy, I promise."
"I'll take your word for it." He ran a hand through his hair. "I've thought about that night a lot, if I'm being honest."
You twisted the sleeve of your coffee cup. "I feel bad for leaving without saying anything." Exhaling, you met his eyes again. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I'm not sure of the rules of hookups." He smiled. "I'm just glad we get to talk now."
"Me too." You smiled. "So this is the town you teach in?"
"We're on summer vacation. Hence the trip in June." Alex fiddled with the top button of his shirt. "I usually go in July, but my friend who goes on the trips with me has some work things during that time."
"She's fun." You remembered how chatty Poppy was, and the way she winked at you when you left with Alex.
"Yeah. She's a good friend. Told me to hunt you down on the social media I don't have." He chuckled, cheeks flushing a little.
You swung your legs under your seat. "That's sweet."
He fidgeted for a moment. "I really do think about you. About what you said."
"I hope it was something nice," you said, leaning on your elbows.
"You said everything felt quiet when we were together." His eyes were soft. "That's how I felt too."
"Yeah." You could have melted. "I feel it right now, Alex. It's just us."
"Just us." He searched your eyes. "I…I like when it's just us." Alex winced after he said it. "Sorry. That's probably weird to say. We still don't know each other super well."
He knew you more than most. He knew about the lacy lingerie you wore under your clothes, and he knew you were lonely sometimes, but you took trips by yourself to try and fill the void. You made yourself invisible, but he still saw you.
"I understand." You felt like he was a magnet. You wanted to get closer, wrap your arms around his waist and listen to his heart beat under your ear. "Alex…"
He held your eyes, and something sparked in your heart, like the beginning of a song you knew you were going to love. That night was on your mind, lingering like perfume. The way he touched you, looked at you like you were perfect.
Alex's thumb twitched where it was resting on the table. "Do you want to have dinner tonight?"
You smiled wider than you knew was possible. "Yeah. I really do."
“I want you. But you, you don’t why you want. You never have. I want you too. You don’t mean that. Don’t tell me what I mean. Why do you think I’m here? Because I love you. Since when? Probably always.”
PEOPLE WE MEET ON VACATION (2026) dir. Brett Haley
dededos
janainaart
areudirty
blakekathryn
stormborns
ellievsbear
