WARNING: My attempt at "angst." And my failure at "angst."

PAIRING: John X Reader

PROMPT: #282-"You fainted...straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn't have to go to such extremes."
#317-"Knowing you has made me a better person."
#322-"You're the best part of me."
#305-"Is there a reason you're in my bed?"

(A/N: So, I can't tell if I'm confident about this one or not. I like the writing style I use in it, but I'm not sure if I like how I portray the reader. Btw, I actually got two requests for a Lauren's X Reader and I fused them together into this. Read on!)

Picking up a small notebook from the table, Y/N lovingly ran her fingers across the smooth, worn cover. A little messily etched into the cover was "MEMORY BOOK." Carefully written into each page was a short passage of a memory she held dear. The day her little sister was born. The trip she took with her family to Boston when she was just a little girl. The time her father and her built a treehouse in their yard. But one page stood out.

Masterfully sketched across the page were dozens of pictures of turtles, flowers, trees, and other creatures. And the largest drawing sat in the middle, a portrait of Y/N from a few years ago. On the bottom of the page was the artist's signature.

Forever yours, John Laurens.

Feeling tears spring to her eyes, Y/N hastily turned the page and read the other memories to take her mind off of her loneliness. The most recent entry was about the end of the war, signifying liberty for America. Y/N thought back to that joyous occasion, how the streets were flooded, a mix of those celebrating and those mourning. Y/N couldn't tell which of those she identified with.

Standing in the middle of the weeping and shouting, I've never felt so happy yet so lonely. It was a wonderful occasion! Parades, flags, ribbons, but despite all of the festivities around me I felt empty. Is my dear John alive? I haven't received a letter from him for months. Well, I shouldn't dwell on that now. Let's rejoice! After seven long years we are finally free.

Y/N smiled, reflecting on the memory. Now, feeling brave, she turned back several pages to a day many years ago.

I! Am! Too excited! To remember the date! But it's sometime end of May of early June. I had to go fetch some groceries for myself, now that I'm living by myself. Mother has always insisted I always dress properly, even when it's a thousand degree inferno outside. Honestly, the weather is so unusual for this time of the year! Although I disagree, I love mother and I want to show her that I respect her wishes. So I ventured outside, with three layers of underwear, my suffocating corset, and my coolest muslin dress. It was the middle of the day, so I felt the sun just shining directly down on me. I could've been smarter by drinking some water before I left the house, but no, I just had to leave. Anyway, I've never been more grateful for a case of dehydration in my life. I was starting to feel faint and nauseous, but I kept pushing myself forward. The last thing I remember is when I started seeing spots in the air. Suddenly, I open my eyes (though I don't remember ever fainting) and I'm sitting on some bench on the side of the street, in the shade. I touch my head since it kind of hurts, and suddenly I sense somebody is watching me, I quickly turn to the side and see a somebody sitting next to me, and they give me the sunniest smile I've ever seen. I study his face for a second and, I swear, he is the prettiest boy I've ever seen. His curly hair is pulled back in a ponytail and his face is covered in freckles. "You fainted...straight into my arms," he says, softly laughing nervously before adding, "You know, if you wanted my attention you didn't have to go to such extremes." My eyes widened and my face get hot, this is by far the most nervous and embarrassed I've ever felt at the same time. I said something, no doubt something that embarrassed me even more, but he didn't seem fazed. We talked for several minutes and we are now good friends. As dreadful as it sounds, I'm actually grateful that I left the house in the condition I was in because it introduced me to John Laurens.

She glanced over the pages, most of them about John but stopped at one page and that was scribbled messily like she was in a rush when she wrote it.

July 29: I can't believe it! I'm really nervous right now, yet excited. Why? John and I have been together for a while, and tonight he is taking me to meet his family. I'm really nervous about that, because suppose they hate me? My heart will be absolutely devastated is their disliking of me means I would have to break up with John. Why am I excited? Yesterday, I honestly but politely expressed my nervousness to meeting his family, and do you know what he said? "Knowing you has made me a better person. Why wouldn't they like you?" I didn't know he feels this way. And I'm quite giddy about it! But, I'm also kind of ashamed that this "memory book" has because more like a journal for me to write down lovey dovey things about John. Oh well, am I right? If these memories make me happy, why not?

She flipped forward one last time, to the passage written just before the page with the drawings on it.

August 17: Today I had to bid farewell to my beloved John. He is leaving to join the war. We spent the day today by the little creek in Miller Woods, sitting in the cool forest where the sunlight streaming through the canopy and the bubbling of the water makes you forget your sorrow. We sat together, not even talking, but just enjoying the presence of each other. Later on, I pulled out this book and showed him all of the pages entirely about him, which resulted in him being quiet flattered. He asked to see my book, and he took an entire page for himself, drawing different plants and turtles we had spotted together. However, in the center he drew a rather lovely portrait of me. It was my turn to be flattered. However, much too soon, the sun started setting and we had to leave. John walked me home, and we stood miserably on my front step in silence for a minute or two. "John," I said, "how do I even know you'll return?" "You're the best part of me, Y/N. Why wouldn't I return to my better half?" After that exchange we parted ways, and here I am writing in this book. I'll miss him so much, but this is a memory I treasure far too much to taint this page with my grief.

Y/N felt a lump coming to her throats and tears in her eyes. But the passage inspired her to do something. Looking out the window at the setting sun, she quickly shuffled on a thin jacket a stepped into the cool air. She walked, no, ran as fast as she could for what seemed likened thousands of miles until she reached a small clearing in the Miller Woods.

Usually, Y/N didn't act on irrational impulses like this, but somehow this situation was different.

The sun was low on the horizon, but it hit the leaves just right. The rosy, golden light gave the area a dreamy look, and the sound of the creek flooded Y/N's mind with memories. Memories of when she was a little and came her with her parents on a picnic. Memories of when she was first allowed to go out by herself and how the first place she came to was those woods. And the most precious, that day she shared with John all those years ago just soaking in each other's companionship. Y/N wished she could stay in this moment forever.

But soon the light was gone and the moment was over. She hurried out of the woods, then slowly walked home, taking as long as she possibly could. Soon, it was pitch black outside, the only light coming from the far off town. Y/N shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her. The distant memories were still haunting her mind, and despite her common sense she was hoping for some kind of miracle. She wished that somehow she would open the door and there he would be sitting there.

Obviously, that didn't happen.

But she did hear a noise. This snapped her back to reality, and she felt her pulse speed up. Y/N slowly and stealthily made her way towards her bedroom. She grabbed the pistol she kept hidden in the kitchen, readied it, and prepared herself to whoever or whatever she was about to confront.

One.

Two.

Three.

The door flew open, and she steadily pointed the gun at the person lying in her bed.

"John?!" she exclaimed, immediately lowering the pistol. "What are-how-is there a reason you're in my bed?" Turns out miracles can happen.

"You idiot, I almost shot you!" She ran to the bed and wrapped her arms around. "The war is over, but the word didn't reach us in South Carolina," he explained. "I had to come home, but I had no were else to go. So I came here. I hope you don't mind..."

"No, of course I don't!" She hugged him tighter and felt his body stiffen. Instantly releasing him, her worried voice asked, "Did I hurt you?" "No...well, yes, but it's not your fault." He lifted his shirt to show her a bandage wrapped around his stomach that had a big blood soaked circle. Y/N winced at the sight, and looked up at him, eyes filled with concern.

"Like I said, we didn't know the war was over for a while. Somebody shot me, but luckily they cleaned out the wound before it could get infected. I'm lucky to be alive right now," he said, watching her eyes widen. "I-I...wow. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Something to-" he stopped her.

"I have everything I need right here," he took her hand and smiled that happy smile of his. Y/N pulled a stool over and held his hand, watching him fall asleep.

This was going to be the best memory in her book by far.