#whoever thought it was a good idea to put the delete button next to the logout button

[rcdlcdger]

thank goodness tumblr asks for confirmation instead of automatically deleting your account..🤦‍♀️

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 58: Voicemail

Harry's mobile rang, interrupting a perfectly nice (if solitary) dinner at home with a good book.

With a sigh, he put his bookmark in his book, set his fork down in his bowl of pasta, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and huffed at the unknown number, "Bloody spam call," he grumbled, tossing the phone onto the couch beside him.

He picked up his fork once more and opened his book.

He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when his phone pinged, notifying him that the caller had left a voicemail. Pointedly, he turned away from the phone and went back to reading; he made it a few more pages, his pasta bowl almost empty, when his phone started ringing again.

The same number was calling again. He scowled and ignored it, going back to his book and letting it ring out. He wasn't especially surprised when he got the notification that whoever was calling had left him another voicemail.

After that, his phone was blissfully silent as he continued reading. When he finished his book he set it down on the side table and stretched until there was a satisfying pop in his lower back.

He glanced at his phone, his curiosity winning out, and reached for it to play back the voicemails.

"Potter? Are you there?" a drunken voice slurred, and Harry knew that voice but he couldn't possibly believe that the person it sounded like had a muggle phone and even if he did, it didn't make sense that he'd be calling Harry. "Oh I can never understand these stupid things. Am I supposed to push a button so you can hear me? This is Draco Malfoy, so if you can hear me, you'd better speak up."

To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement.

(Read more below the cut)

"You know I don't understand how to make this work," he whined at Harry, "Can't you help me? Isn't that what you do?"

Harry huffed.

"Fine. Don't talk to me. You're the one who's missing out. I'm hanging up now, Potter."

He shook his head and hit delete on the voicemail before opening the next one.

"Potter," he greeted again and Harry almost laughed because he didn't know how it was possible to sound so drunk and so posh at the same time. "I've been informed that you were not, in fact, on the other end of the string...wire?... line?..." he trailed off and this time Harry did laugh.

"Whatever. None of those words make any sense. Anyway, I was told I left you a recording of my voice. You're welcome."

Harry laughed again, ridiculous man.

"So, since you weren't being rude before, I thought I would call to present you my offer. I am out at a club dancing and drinking with Pansy, and I couldn't help but wonder what you might be doing. I'm going to guess that you are finishing a terrible detective novel while you sit on your sofa eating dinner by yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "I like my detective novels, thank you."

"And I know you're probably rolling your eyes and extolling the many virtues of your paperback novels, but they're absolute drivel, Potter, you must know that."

It was ridiculous to be fond of this man. Utterly and completely ridiculous, but Harry was nothing if not fond of Draco Malfoy.

"Anyway, I bet that your cat hasn't even joined you on the sofa. Magnus has much better taste in literature than you do."

Magnus was currently resting on his cat tower, but if he'd been asked, Harry wouldn't have admitted it.

"The point I'm trying to make, is that you are living a lonely, miserable life. So you should come out dancing with me. And I know," he carried on, "that you would say that you don't dance but I can teach you."

He smiled at the phone, gripping it a little tighter as he imagined that scenario playing out in his mind.

"And then, you can take me home with you at the end of the night."

Harry promptly choked on his saliva. Draco Malfoy couldn't be implying what he thought he was implying.

"What's your bed like, Potter? Is it soft? Is it red?" he asked aghast. "Maybe we should come back to mine instead. You'd look so lovely on my green sheets." He trailed off with a wistful little sigh. "Or. Just call me back and tell me to leave the club right now. Tell me to floo over and maybe we won't make it past the living room. Maybe on that hideous sofa. Hell maybe we won't make it past that garish rug."

There was a short pause and Harry wondered if Draco was imagining it like he was.

"I'm dying to kiss you." he murmured. "Surely you see it, surely you know. And I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-"

The voicemail ended abruptly and Harry glared at the phone. What happened? He opened the voicemail box again and a notification popped up. His mailbox was full. Of all the rotten luck.

And he had no idea where the other man was and even if he had known, did it really make sense to go there anyway?

He listened to the voicemail, then he listened to it again.

And again.

He listened and he fell a little bit more in love with Draco Malfoy and he knew that even if he had known where he was, he wouldn't have gone, because he didn't want to be something the other man regretted in the morning.

After retrieving Magnus from the cat tower, he carried him into his bedroom and decided to deal with everything in the morning.

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

Harry slept very poorly that night and when 7:30 rolled around Harry couldn't stand it for one more second. He stuffed his feet into his trainers, pulled a sweatshirt over his head, and apparated to Draco's front door, pounding on it before he could stop himself.

He waited for a long moment and when there was no response, he pounded again.

The door swung open while he was still knocking, revealing a very tired, very grumpy Draco Malfoy in nothing more than a pair of boxers, "What the fuck." He stared at Harry as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Potter, I am in no mood for your bullshit; I am tired, I am hungover, and it is bloody early. You're going to need to start making sense. Right now."

"You said, 'I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-' and then my voicemail was full and I couldn't hear anything more."

All of the color drained from Draco's face, "I think I'm going to be sick." He turned around and stumbled back inside, but he left the door open so Harry took that as an invitation to enter.

Draco was serious, apparently, about getting sick because he made a beeline for the bathroom and Harry heard him vomiting before he reached the doorway.

"Oh," he murmured sympathetically, making his way over and gathering Draco's shoulder-length hair in his hand to keep it out of his face. He rubbed soothing circles on his back as he heaved up the contents of his stomach which truthfully smelled like pure vodka.

"Go away," Draco finally groaned when he'd managed to stop dry heaving and flush the toilet. "Just leave me to die. That would be preferable."

"Stop being dramatic," he said as he stood and moved toward his medicine cupboard. "I'm sure that a potions master has a hangover potion lying around here somewhere." He dug through until he found a bottle and handed it over to Draco.

Draco took it, wincing as the pain of the hangover he would have had hit him all at once. He shuddered, "Fucking Pansy," he grumbled. "Thank you for your assistance, you've done you're duty to help those less fortunate than you, you may go."

"Not likely," he replied. "Why don't you shower and get cleaned up? I'll make some breakfast and we can talk."

Draco groaned, "Let me die."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You have ten minutes, then I'm coming in and dragging you out."

He made his way to Draco's kitchen and made some scrambled eggs and toast for both of them, as well as coffee.

Draco appeared after nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. "Please, Potter," he groaned, "Can't you just drop it. I promise never to drunk dial you again," he added as he slid into a chair and took a sip of his coffee.

"Draco what was the end of that sentence?" Harry asked.

The other man picked up his slice of toast and took a bite, "I don't know. I was drunk off my arse."

"Don't lie to me," Harry replied. "I'm not stupid."

Draco's eyes flicked up to meet his, "I know that."

"Please," Harry whispered, "What was the end of that sentence?"

"You aren't going to let it go are you?"

He shook his head.

Draco's shoulders slumped, "I am in love with you," he whispered. "That's the end of that sentence. And usually I have enough of a sense of self preservation and dignity not to just go spouting that sort of nonsense to someone who couldn't possibly feel the same-"

"But I do!" Harry exclaimed. "I do feel the same. I have for absolutely ages."

"You don't have to lie to me-"

"Do you remember that trivia night we went to eight months ago," Harry interrupted, "the one where everyone else bailed?"

"Yes."

"I knew," Harry said, "I knew that night that I was completely besotted with you. We were the worst team there."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Right. Everyone falls in love with someone who's a complete idiot about a subject school children could play better."

"I fell in love with someone who didn't take himself seriously. Who laughed at getting the answers wrong, who was clever and funny, and made up answers a hundred times better than the real ones." He looked down at his hands, steeling himself to say something hard but real, "Things are hard for me sometimes," he confessed. "I get stuck in my head and it's not," he swallowed, "Not always good."

Draco's hand found his across the table.

Harry looked up, "But I don't feel like that when I'm with you. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed like that before that night. And I'm not trying to put pressure on you," he added, "I see a mind healer, I'm not asking you to fix me," he said. "Just, when I'm with you I feel like there's something to look forward to." He swallowed and Draco waited patiently for him to continue, "And I couldn't let myself imagine that you might want someone broken like me, I wanted to be better before I let myself even think about it. But then you left me that messa-"

"You're not broken," Draco murmured, bringing Harry's knuckles to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to them that left Harry breathless. "The war changed all of us and we all have healing and growing to do from that, but you aren't broken. You're enough as you are right now."

"You don't know what my bad days are like," Harry said.

Draco shrugged, "And you don't know what my bad days are like, but you're not holding them against me."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I really like you," Draco confessed. "A lot. And I know that things aren't always going to be easy, but if we wait for either of us to be perfect before we try, we'll wait our entire lives." He swallowed and Harry watched his throat bob with the motion, "Could we maybe try healing and growing together?"

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Good," Draco replied before standing up and moving around the table to straddle Harry's lap, "Then I'm going to need you to kiss me."

"I can do that," he replied, cupping Draco's cheek and leading his mouth down to his.

Their breakfast got cold but neither of them could bring themselves to care.

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

Day 57: Text Message | Day 59: Ring

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

It's Delicate: PART I

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 2.8 K

Content Warnings: Mention of NA meeting, some case talk, mild language

Author's Note: This is my first chapter fic! I've only written one shots before, so bear with me. I truly do appreciate all reblogs, likes, and comments. Thank you!!

It's Delicate

Spencer doesn’t really care for gas station coffee, but at 2:00 am it’s the only thing that’s open. He pulls into the parking spot and turns off his Volvo. The check engine light is on, he needs to get into a mechanic, but between his NA meetings and work, it’s difficult to even catch his breath.

So that’s what Spencer does. In the middle of the gas station parking lot at 2:00 am, Spencer sits in his blue Volvo and breathes. He takes deep breaths, the ones that he uses when he has to calm down victims when they’re rescued. It’s grounding, breathing like this he thinks. It’s the kind of breath that Spencer takes when his head is fuzzy from sleeplessness and the only thing that can keep his eyes from drooping is a steady stream of coffee.

He unbuckles his seat belt and gets out of his car. Shutting the door, Spencer surveys the rest of the parking lot. He sees a couple other cars in the lot, he supposes it’s the gas station attendants, but he feels his shoulders tense at the thought of trouble. The bell attached to the door rings as Spencer opens the door. It's a small convenience store, one that Spencer has been frequently at odd hours after the BAU’s jet lands. He’s grown to know the owner, Jeff, who for the past 4 years hasn’t been around all too often.

“I’ll take a regular coffee,” Spencer asks the young man behind the counter. He doesn’t say anything in return, but nods his head in understanding as Spencer hands him a $5 bill and tells him to keep the change.

“Night,” Spencer tells the man, who he’s never seen before, when he hands him his coffee. Again, the young man doesn’t answer. Spencer tries to salvage the awkward encounter by chalking up the man’s coldness by it being so late.

As Spencer pushes against the door with the sleeve covered part of his arm, a poster that’s eye level catches his eye. It’s one of those posters where you can rip off the phone number and contact the person. But instead of a 20-something looking for a roommate, it’s a book club advertisement.

Spencer, quickly for a normal person, but slowly for himself, reads over the sign. The book club is hosted at the local bookstore, Hooked on Books, that Spencer has always meant to check out. From what he can gather, the list of numbers are from people looking for what the poster refers to as “book buddies”. Spencer’s eyes scan the list. There aren't any names attached to the numbers, Spencer supposes that the idea behind that is so bias won’t come into play.

It almost seems like the perfect trap: rip off one of these little pieces of paper with a phone number and call that person with the intention of being their book buddy. It’s something that Spencer knows deep in his bones he’s meant to avoid. But it’s like there’s an invisible string pulling at him to rip the third piece of paper from the group and stuff it carefully into the safety of his wallet.

--

It’s been five days since Spencer visited the cold man at the gas station and took the number from the poster. In those five days, Spencer slept for two and was back on plane to the middle of Montana for the next three.

After a long day in the sun, Spencer relishes in the cold water from the hotel shower. Even though he had to crouch slightly, Spencer still appreciated the way the chilly water seems to wash him anew. He never sleeps well when the team is on a case, it’s like his mind can’t rest. Well, his mind can never really rest, since it’s technically always growing and changing, especially during sleep.

Spencer’s thoughts travel from his messed up circadian rhythm to the piece of paper that burns a hole in his wallet. He steps out of the shower and dresses in his pajamas. It’s cold in the hotel run, as JJ likes to sleep in the coldest temperature humanly possible. Spencer knows that she finds the weight of blankets comforting. He makes a mental note to put some of his pillows on JJ’s bed, so she can pretend it’s her boys and Will in the bed with her. Spencer can’t help but wonder what’s like to have a child or a partner that misses you. It must be so bittersweet: the promise of coming home, but the threat of having to leave them all behind at moments notice.

Letting his hair air dry, Spencer unlocks the door and enters his and JJ’s hotel room. Out of the whole team, Spencer likes sharing with JJ the best. She’s the most organized and usually, they’ll spend the night on FaceTime with the boys and Will watching a movie, depending on the time.

“You’re all good, JJ. Thanks for letting me get in first,” Spencer says, flopping down on his bed. He shuts off his light, essentially telling JJ that he doesn’t want to talk about the case, or Henry, or anything really.

“Good night, Spence,” JJ says, before shutting off the rest of the lights and heading into the bathroom.

For a couple of minutes, Spencer lays in the all consuming dark. He tries the breathing exercise that’s scientifically proven to make you fall asleep. He counts, one, two, three, four breaths in and holds for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven and let's go for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

He tries it for a couple of rounds, but suspects thinking about numbers makes him think about the phone number. Spencer can’t exactly pinpoint why he’s nervous to reach out to the number. Maybe it’s his constant fear of judgement or fear of not being enough, he can’t tell.

Knowing that sleep is probably not coming anytime soon, Spencer rolls on his side so he faces the window overlooking the hotel parking lot. He can’t stop thinking about the case. The way the victim’s mother and father walk around the precinct with a lifeless look in their eyes, staying villgiant no matter how many times JJ tells them to go home and rest.

Spencer doesn’t want to think about the case, so his mind flits to another subject: Hooked on Books Book Buddies. He can’t really pinpoint why he didn’t reach out to his book buddy. But laying there in the bed, Spencer feels strongly compelled to do anything to get his mind off the case, so he climbs out of bed to reach for his phone.

It’s tucked away neatly in his go bag, unlike JJ, Spencer doesn’t have anyone that’s waiting for him at home. Sure he has his mother, but if she needed him, the home would wait until 8 am to call Spencer. He unlocks it and the blue light illuminates the room. Somehow, Garcia had convinced him to get an updated phone. Spencer hardly uses it, but does appreciate being able to get pictures of JJ’s boys and his mother.

He memorized the number in the ten seconds or so it took him to rip the little slip of paper from the poster and put it away in his wallet. Spencer punches the numbers into a new contact, but hesitates when he’s prompted to give a name. He doesn’t know the first thing about this person. Seriously, this is like FBI 101 on the do not listen, he thinks.

Spencer pushes the thoughts of serial killers, for what feels like the first time in ten years, from his mind when he hits the button to message his mysterious book buddy. He types out a message a couple of times, but ends up deleting them because he sounds so incredibly stupid.

Spencer: Hello. I do apologize for my late message. I work odd hours, but I came across your number at the gas station on the corner of Richmond Street and Connor Avenue in Woodbridge. If you are interested, perhaps we can have a conversation about Hooked on Books’ Book Club?

Spencer, realizing that the message he wrote is going to be as good as it gets, hits the little arrow for “send”. He watches as his message turns blue and the little gray delivered pops up. He doesn’t expect the person to send a message back yet. He’s all the way in Montana and they’re in Woodbridge, Virginia, presumably. If it’s 2:30 am in Montana, it’s 4:30 back at home. That’s a little too late for someone with a normal 9 to 5 to be up for work and a little too late for a person that’s joining a book club to haven’t gone to sleep yet.

Don’t profile them, Spencer.

“What’s got you glued to the phone, Reid?” JJ says, with a smirk as she walks out from the bathroom and climbs into her bed. She came in so quietly, or rather, Spencer was staring so intensely at his phone that he didn’t realize.

“Something with my mother, JJ,” he lies, and he doesn’t even know what he can’t tell her the truth.

“Okay, Spence. I just want to make sure you’re all good,” JJ says quietly, her back must be facing Spencer because her voice is muffled a little bit.

“Thanks, JJ, uh good night, now,” Spencer says, effectively ending the conversation.

JJ doesn’t say anything after that, perhaps she just understands that Spencer doesn’t want to talk. Spencer rests flat on his back and tries a couple more rounds of the breathing exercise, but nothing seems to make his brain shut off. Despite the way his eyelids droop and the way it’s almost painful to continue to think, Spencer can’t seem to fall asleep.

He thinks about his Book Buddy, whoever they might be. Spencer hopes that they are around his age. He can’t remember a time that he had a friend his age that wasn’t through work. He has people. JJ is the closest thing to a sister that he’ll ever get and he knows that Derek loves him like a brother, despite his teasing. Emily and Penelope are Spencer’s rock. And then there’s Tara, Matt, and Luke, though Spencer has really gotten a chance to know them all too well, he knows that they’re a team.

But Spencer has always dreamt of having a friend. As a little kid, he used to make up imaginary friends that would listen to his science facts and perform chemistry experiments from him. When he got to high school, his dreams were occupied by someone who’d reach for his hand after he’d been beaten down or strung to a football post. Sure he had Ethan, but that was something charged and electric that left Spencer longing for someone again.

Spencer hadn’t had dreams about a friend in a long time, but tonight he dreamt of coffee and books in a small café and a faceless stranger that would listen to him and laugh with him.

--

Even though he fell asleep relatively shortly after thinking about his Book Buddy, Spencer did not feel well rested. He turns around in his bed and notices that JJ’s bed is already neatly made. The bathroom is empty, so Spencer reckons that JJ and Emily must already be at the police station.

He wants to savor the last couple of minutes in bed, maybe chase a dream or two of strangers swapping books and making memories over expensive coffee and scones. But reality calls him back home. Spencer checks his phones for work updates (and maybe a message or two from his Book Buddy), but the only notifications on his phone is a Forbes article and a couple emails from Georgetown.

Spencer, heading to the bathroom, gets interrupted by a loud and persistent knock on his hotel room door. He opens the door, revealing an equally tired looking Luke. He waves Spencer good morning before slumping down in the desk chair in the corner of the hotel room.

“I’ve been sent by JJ to get you, she thinks you’re acting weird,” Luke says, expecting Spencer to explain himself.

Awkwardly, Spencer makes something in between a grimace and a frown. He rolls his eyes, but plays along with what he thinks Luke’s little game.

“Well I’m always weird, it would be weird if I wasn’t being weird,” Spencer says, heading into the bathroom with a pile of work clothes. He shuts the door, both literally on Luke and metaphorically on their conversation.

In the bathroom, Spencer dresses out of his pajamas and into a pair of well worn pants and a light purple button up. He forgot his contacts at his apartment, but luckily had a back up pair of glasses in his go bag. Spencer, looking in the mirror, never particularly carried for the reflection that looks back at him. It always seems like his hair is too messy, or his collar is all twisted, or his eyebags are too prominent.

At least the glasses can kind of cover up his eye bags, Spencer thinks as he shuts off the light and closes the bathroom door behind him. Luke, who still is slouched in the chair, looks at his phone.

“Waiting for Penelope to send you a picture of Sergio or something?” Spencer asks, the snark in his voice isn’t missed by Luke.

“You’re one to talk, JJ was telling me how you’re being kind of secretive for the last couple of weeks,” Luke counters.

“Yeah, that’s my work mandated therapist, Luke. You know from the time I was in jail,” Spencer shoots back a little harder than he intended. The look that Luke gives him is something akin to a hurt puppy and Spencer can’t help but feel a little bad for snapping at Luke’s teasing.

“Sorry, man,” Luke says, putting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “I get it, and you know I’m here for you, Reid. We might not be as close as you and Penny or you and JJ, but I’m here to listen to you,” Luke says, his hand on Spencer, who’s usually so hesitant to touch, is something Spencer never thought he would find comforting.

“Thank you,” is all Spencer can manage and somehow, Luke just gets it. They walk quietly to the parking lot where the SUVs are. The silence continues as they drive to the police station.

It’s still early, only 7:13 am. Spencer can only hope that they catch the unsub in the next couple of hours, so they can file the paperwork and be on their way to Quantico by 8:00 pm. Luke’s steady driving threatens to lull Spencer to sleep. His quiet presence, however, is interrupted with a buzz. Luke’s eyes dart to his phone that navigates them to the police station. He refuses to take direction from Spencer, who has a habit of being a terrible co-pilot.

“Check that for me,” Luke says, “it’s probably Penelope,”

Spencer raises his eyebrows and attempts to suppress a smirk at Luke’s blatant transparency.

“You know with updates about the case and whatnot,” Luke says, brushing Spencer’s teasing off and putting his attention back to the road.

“It’s not Garcia and for what it’s worth, Luke, I don’t see how she’d say no,” Spencer offers, genuinely wanting to see his two friends, who are so perfect for each other it’s almost ridiculous, get together.

Luke shuffles in his seat uncomfortably and pulls into the station. He shoots Spencer a lot, as if to say drop it. The last thing Luke wants is Tara and Matt to get wind of his excitement at Penelope texting him.

Spencer, who’s phone lights up alerting him that he has an unread message, feels a sudden surge in his heart. He’s so used to only getting messages from JJ about the cases or pictures of her boys, that a text not related to his work or his family leaves a smile to his face.

Spencer tries to not profile the message, but to just read it like a normal friend would.

Book Buddy (Y/N): Hey there😊! I can’t believe someone actually grabbed my number...I’m glad you’re interested in this. I’m Y/N and I don’t think you mentioned your name, I don’t make it a habit to meet up with strangers before not knowing their name.

Reading the message twice to make sure he can recite without any hesitation, Spencer’s face falls as he realizes that he forgot to tell them his own name. How could you be so clueless, Spencer, he thinks.

Quickly, because he knows that the rest of the team is waiting inside the police station, that is like a portal to the past, Spencer types out another message.

Spencer: My name is Spencer.

Spencer: I tend to be away for work quite often, so I do apologize for the late message. And for hiding my identity-- not that that was on purpose. Is it okay if we plan something when I get back to Virginia?

Spencer doesn’t expect a message right away, but he can tell that there’s going to be something Pavlovian about the way that little swoosh sound makes his fingers reach for his phone.

--

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[meaningofmischief]

Evil, Lying Scourge

Set immediately after the battle in the Timekeepers’ chamber. Loki and Renslayer go toe-to-toe as Loki creates the ultimately confronting conditions to force the truth of Sylvie’s Nexus Event from Renslayer.

The truth is devastating - can Loki and Sylvie survive it?

Loki and Sylvie were traumatized - that was near the only way to put it.

Hours ago they had resigned themselves to die together on an exploding moon.

They had been forcibly yanked into the clutches of the TVA at the last possible minute, restrained, separated, each subject to individual psychological tortures as all their remaining tatters of stability and freedom and friendship were ripped away from them one by one. Both prepared to meet their ends together again, and now even their impossible escape was ice cold comfort as they both examined in horror the head of the mindless android they had taken to be one of the three all-powerful Timekeepers. 

Not to mention the barely suppressed passion each felt for the other that roiled away like a wildfire between them - burning both the longer it went unacknowledged.

‘Then who,’ Loki’s voice broke for stress, ‘created the TVA?’. Sylvie felt choked by a sudden rage. Hurling the head of the android viciously across the floor of the chamber, she spat: ‘I thought this was it.’ They both had, of course.

A low moan startled them and they whipped around, mirrors of defense for the next attack, but the despised Ravonna Renslayer still lay passed out cold from the hefty blow Sylvie had dealt her not a minute before. 

B-15, the undisputed saviour of the pair of them, had finally regained consciousness after the massive strike to the head she had received at the hands of one of the Timekeepers’ specialist defense team. They had not treated her mercifully while she was down either, delivering unnecessarily cruel, wounding kicks to the woman they saw as the traitor in their midst. 

Sylvie reacted as if by instinct and rushed straight to B-15’s side, running practiced hands down the Hunter’s limbs to assess for fractures or broken bones. Loki could only marvel - for all her uncompromising toughness, Sylvie’s unconscious impulse was to compassion, a quality that he found at times miserably difficult to access, which frustrated him to no end, especially when he considered how yet more painful Sylvie’s past had been to his own.

‘Nothing broken.’ Sylvie’s soft reassurance to B-15 snapped Loki out of his reverie. ‘But those arseholes didn’t go easy on you by any means. Do you think you can walk?’ There was a flash of fire in the resilient Hunter’s eyes and she opened her mouth to deliver a stinging retort before Sylvie broke out into a warm smile and there was a brief moment of kinship between these two fearsome warriors.

‘Still,’ continued Sylvie bluntly, ‘I’m not having you risk your life to save us only to pass out in one of these obscure corridors where no-one’ll find you for the next week. I’m gonna see you to the infirmary and you can’t stop me.’ She was busy helping B-15 struggle painfully to her feet when Loki murmured, gravelly, ‘Sylvie. Is that wise?’ 

Sylvie glowered. Whatever difficult feelings she had for this man, he was not about to tell her what to do. Luckily B-15 interceded, voice tight with pain, but determined nonetheless: ‘I know how we can do this. Variant -’, she checked herself, ‘L-Loki. Take out Ravonna’s Tempad from her jacket.’ 

Loki’s skin crawled but he nevertheless did as she commanded, crouching down to where Ravonna still lay knocked out, reaching inside her jacket to retrieve the rectangular Tempad, surprisingly heavy in his palm. He handed it uncertainly to B-15 who snapped it open and began pressing buttons with a confident ease that seemed to indicate she knew exactly what she was doing. ‘There,’ she said smugly after 30 seconds or so, ‘the warrant for my capture has been deleted. And don’t worry,’ her gaze flitted over to Loki and in that brief glance Loki knew that B-15 had perceptively ascertained the depth of his attachment to Sylvie, ‘nothing is going to happen to that Variant on my watch. The store cupboard for this unit is right next to the infirmary, so we’ll get her a uniform to act as a disguise on the way back.’ B-15’s eyes narrowed, and Loki knew she was fighting hard what must be a tremendous amount of pain. She handed the Tempad back to Loki and he felt incredibly humbled by the action. Sylvie helped her very gently to the elevator door. ‘Promise me,’ B-15 whispered through gritted teeth as she turned to face Loki one last time, ‘that you’ll bring this place to the ground.’ Loki nodded once, slow and solemn - forcing himself to believe that such a thing was possible when so much lay still unknown. He and Sylvie locked gazes, and Loki longed to cross to the elevator doors in a handful of strides, hold her so close to him, take her face in his hands… Stop. He forced himself to focus right now, for all of their sakes. He only held her gaze as the elevator doors closed, and then they were gone. 

Loki exhaled, and it came out mostly as a sob. He closed his eyes to withhold the tears which he felt welling in their sea-green depths. He had held himself together all this while for Sylvie, but now, standing alone in the cold, misty chamber - he felt assaulted by uncertainty and fear. And sorrow. He so wished for Mobius, for his friend, who was always so grounded and strong - a master of strategy. Loki’s gift for style and verbal artistry were rendered useless in a situation such as this and he felt utterly incompetent and broken.

‘You can be whatever - whoever - you wanna be. Even someone good. I mean just in case anyone ever told you different.’

Loki’s eyes snapped open, shining with salt water and yet never so determined as now.

No.

He had the ability to stand up and make his own choices, and that started now. Not his first act of defiance against whatever cruel authority had created this suffocating institution of control, and certainly not his last. 

He knew what he needed to do, and he needed to do it for Sylvie - while he had this rapidly diminishing window and before they set about trying to achieve the impossible in burning this place to the ground.

And before he told her that he loved her. 

Loki stooped and grimly retrieved his Time Collar where it lay on the floor after B-15 had freed him of it. He was going to need it, unfortunately. He opened the Tempad and after a short while as he got to grips with its functions, a Time Door with a subtle magenta sheen opened up next to him.

Panicked breathing behind him.

Good, she was awake. 

Loki wasted no time, seizing Renslayer none too gently by the lapel of her jacket. She foggily tried to resist him, but before her blurry vision had even cleared, she felt the Time Collar wrap constrictingly around her neck, felt Loki haul her to her feet and unceremoniously push her through the Time Door ahead of him.

The Asgardian bedchamber was light and airy and warm - a stark contrast to the cool, damp darkness of the place they had emerged from. Loki looked around briefly, instantly wistful, recognising the arch of the ceiling, the pristine white marble floor, even smelling the heady summer scents of his old home. It made his heart ache even more - if that was possible at this stage. He was quickly distracted, however, by Ravonna’s wild sprint away from his side. She had regained her full mental capacity now, but was seized by terror at the situation - at the mercy of the Variant and whatever tortures he could concuct for her.

Loki fiercely loathed to play the jailor - even to someone as worthy of harsh treatment as Renslayer - but he needed her attention. He turned the dial of the Time Twister and in an instant Renslayer was back at his side. Though the logical part of Ravonna’s brain knew it was fruitless, she tried to break away from him several more times, just as Loki had tried upon his capture. Eventually Loki seized her by the arm and made her turn to look at the scene before them.

Throughout the chaos the little girl seated on the floor had payed them no heed. Not that she could. This was what the TVA quaintly referred to as an ‘Observant Loop Cell’ - of course obnoxiously abbreviated to OLC. An OLC was designed not to punish prisoners into submission but rather to force them to reflect on situations they had experienced - made to watch those situations over and over and unable to help, hinder or manipulate any of the figures within it. 

Loki himself had had no idea what to expect when he had found Variant L1129’s file on Renslayer’s Tempad, and created an OLC of the Variant’s apprehension. He had briefly had a vision of the young, out-of-control Goddess of Mischief, terrorizing Asgard - effecting pain and suffering, destruction and death so devastating that there was no choice but to send up a smoke flare, a Nexus Event. It did not fit in the slightest with what he perceived of Sylvie’s true character, but he could think of no other reasonable explanation. He did certainly not expect this angelic child, playing as any child would, with her toys. Loki felt a pang of unhappiness as he remembered his own childhood days, he never could play nicely. It was all borne of resentment and jealousy: Father would always ensure Thor had the most luxurious selection of toys, and he was anyway keen that both of his sons stopped messing around with playthings as early as possible and go out for battle training with the young sons of Asgardian nobility instead. Where Thor thrived in the competitive, loud environment of the training ground, Loki shrank into himself. Self-conscious, anxious, lacking the warrior’s bulk that all the other boys seemed to possess, the young prince found himself more often than not in a corner with a few books and some of the toys his father scorned - to make up his own stories in his own time. The other boys mocked him endlessly, tore pages out of the books, stole the miniature figurines of Valkyrie and other great warriors. Loki had eventually learned to be as harsh and cruel as they - only his power to hurt came from his intelligence rather than brawn.

This little girl was anything but harsh and cruel, hurt and isolated. Yes, she was alone, but she seemed to relish that independence - making her own stories up in her own time. ‘Dragon swoops towards the palace, but Valkyrie flies over, defeats the dragon and saves Asgard!’ she crowed, face alit at the conclusion of what had evidently been an epic story. Loki couldn’t suppress a small smile, though he knew that any moment there must be some great catastrophe which would set off the Nexus Event. Ravonna seemed to have frozen at his side - both were caught up in their individual perception of the events unfolding before their eyes.

When the golden Time Door opened mere seconds later, Loki gasped in disbelief, gaze flitting around the room and then back to Sylvie as he tried to ascertain what could have caused the Nexus and finding no evidence at all. Ravonna stiffened next to him as they both saw none other than Ravonna Renslayer - or more precisely Hunter A-20 - in clear command of the two Minutemen flanking her, hold out her Tempad before her and certify in a cold, triumphant voice: ‘There’s our variant.’ Sylvie’s eyes were huge and frightened as Renslayer continued without pause: ‘On the authority of the Timekeepers, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline’, as though she were addressing some notorious criminal and not a terrified little girl.

‘Where’s the Nexus?!’ Loki thought, increasingly desperate and distressed as the OLC Renslayer seized Sylvie by her skinny arm and wrenched her towards the Time Door. It all happened very quickly then. The Minutemen set their Reset Charge which immediately began its task of disintegrating Sylvie’s possessions - anything and everything that indicated that she had ever been in this room. Sylvie screamed, high-pitched, shaking in Renslayer’s grasp: ‘Wait!!!’. Loki resisted the urge to run to her aid, knowing it would be completely useless. Then Sylvie and Renslayer gone, followed by the Minutemen, the Time Door snapped shut and Loki and his Renslayer stood facing one another in a deafening silence in the handful of seconds of respite prisoners would receive before the loop started again.

Tears were clouding Loki’s vision, but he blinked them away angrily. ‘Why?’ was the only thing he said - in a voice several octaves below his usual speaking voice. Renslayer shook her head and pressed her lips together, though her chest heaved at the fraught situation. Loki growled softly and resisted the urge to hurt her - to make her talk.

No.

That was what he would have done in the past, he would not descend to such base measures now.

He didn’t need to, the loop was already starting again. Loki felt as though his heart would fairly break in two as he watched the young Sylvie skip into her bedroom, arms full of her toys, setting them out, beginning to play. ‘You’re going,’ he spat at Renslayer ‘to stand here with me and watch this as many times as it takes for you to tell me what the Nexus event was that made you rip an innocent young girl’s life away from her and force her on the run for her entire life. I don’t care how long it takes. You’re going to tell me.’

In reality that wasn’t exactly true - Sylvie and B-15 had almost certainly reached the infirmary by now and if Sylvie made it back to the Timekeepers’ chamber to find it empty, to think that she had been abandoned by her one companion (and perhaps more than that) in the universe… It nearly had Loki sending them both back to the TVA instantly. But Renslayer was breaking already, he could see it, as he forced her to watch the abject cruelty, cruelty at her hands, again and again. By the third viewing, Renslayer’s eyes brimmed with tears and Loki would gladly have wept openly. By the fifth, she started to hyperventilate, made to move away. Loki turned the Time Twister’s dial and she was jarred back into place. On the sixth viewing, just as the OLC Renslayer was about to seize Sylvie, she abruptly screamed: ‘Enough! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you.’

Both breathed out in relief, when Loki pressed the button on the Tempad that cut the loop and everyone in the scene disintegrated immediately. He turned to face her and forced out between his teeth: ‘Do not try to lie to the God of Mischief. You have no idea how acutely I am attuned to falsehoods. You will tell me in every horrifying detail about this Nexus Event, or I will leave you in this Time Cell and bury this Tempad in the deepest crevice of the TVA where no one will ever, ever find it. Now TELL ME.’

Renslayer took a deep breath to steady herself, closed her eyes and spoke with a surprisingly steady voice: ‘The Variant was deviating from her role on the Sacred Timeline.’ Loki snarled: ‘Obviously! What was the deviation?’. Renslayer opened her eyes and locked her chocolate brown eyes with his green ones. ‘A Loki,’ she said, slowly, as though choosing her words carefully, ‘does not get to travel the kind of path that that Variant was on.’ Loki rushed to intercede, but Renslayer narrowed her eyes, warning him not to interrupt her.

‘It was a mistake that she ever got as far as she did. Our technology advances every day - it’s now so accurate that we can nip burgeoning Nexus events like this one in the bud.’ Loki was amazed that she could speak in such clinical terms about the organisation that had only very recently been revealed to have three mindless robots as its figureheads. But Renslayer’s voice ran with conviction which only strengthened as she continued: ‘Lokis are so very tricky. It’s an incredible rarity that any being is allowed so much leeway as they have been, and we have all had to suffer the consequences of that. You see, due to your natures as shapeshifters, this Variant being born the Goddess rather than the God of Mischief was no cause for a Nexus flare. But of course in the archaic society that you are raised in, the ridiculous difference in gender is of massive significance. Recall that only male heirs are permitted to succeed the throne of Asgard. In your case, informing you of your adoption would have caused colossal problems for King Odin - that would have had ramifications across Asgard, not to mention potential rebellion from you yourself. Odin was under no illusions of how much more intelligent you were than his legitimate son, and how that would have fused with the arrogance of princehood to create the ultimate cuckoo within the sparrow’s nest - an utterly unacceptable scenario. Far better to keep that knowledge from you, even if it did mean that you grew up confused and resentful - emotions Odin could easily ignore. Far better to have you treated as the bastard son, who he would insidiously try to manipulate to his own ideals, who might possibly one, highly unlikely day, be fit for the throne should Thor be killed in battle before his heir was old enough to succeed the throne.’

‘Of course, for a girl, Odin had no such concerns. He took the child from Jotunheim out of some scrap of pity, and because she could prove useful in negotiating with the Jotuns at a later date. A princess had no chance of succeeding the throne, not to mention an illegitimate one, who would likely be married off to some lowborn noble as soon as she had come of age. So Odin told the Variant of her adoption. And somehow, ludicrously, that knowledge failed to break the Variant, it only made her stronger. She took pride in her differences from her family and the rest of Asgard, her inclination to independence rather than company, her delight of mischief. Where she should have been enraged, embittered and vengeful, she was courageous, compassionate and creative.’

‘Excuse me,’ Loki hissed, interrupting Renslayer’s monologue, ‘where she SHOULD have been?’. Despite the fact that she had found herself at his mercy, Renslayer sneered at him. ‘Of course-’ she continued, seeming to try to gain the upper hand over him with the knowledge she was revealing, ‘a Loki is an evil, lying scourge, like you. Where would be the heroes of the Timeline without the villains? That Variant had a role to play, same as you, same as all of us, and she went off the path. Whoever heard of a heroic Goddess of Mischief?’. Ravonna’s voice cracked slightly on the last sentence as she bore witness to Loki’s murderous expression. ‘So what you’re saying,’ he replied with devastating calm ‘is that Sylvie lost her home, her family, her life, because she would one day grow up to be kind and just, to be her own person? Oh, no one is truly good or truly bad, but the TVA decrees that not to be so.’ His voice grew more intense and Renslayer shrank before him. ‘Because whatever devil puppetmaster is controlling the TVA, they like to have their play made interesting - with villains to cause destruction and heroes to save the day?’. Renslayer was at a loss for words, but Loki had heard enough. He pressed a button on the Time Twister he held and Ravonna sank ungraciously to the floor, unconscious once more. One of the functions the delightful Twister could enact was to reverse the prisoner’s physiological state - mainly meant for various exotic creatures the TVA brought in, that could effect all sorts of trouble as a result of their innate biology, but in this case merely necessary to give Loki a moment to take in what he had just experienced. He couldn’t quite do it.

Only concern for Sylvie forced Loki to action, and he opened up the door back to the Timekeepers’ chamber using the Tempad, dragging the unconscious Ravonna back through with him. Despite what he had said, he would never consign anyone to spend their life trapped in one of the hideous Time Cells. He removed her Time Collar too, and flung it to a far corner of the chamber, repulsed that it had had to come to him using one of the TVA’s disgusting methods of control to get the information he needed.

His thoughts left Renslayer entirely behind as the elevator doors opened and Sylvie emerged not a moment too soon, yanking off the breastplate and trousers of the TVA Minutemen she had worn as a disguise over her usual black top and trousers. Now that Sylvie’s purpose had been achieved, she too seemed utterly spent as she staggered over to where Loki stood staring at her. Both failed to speak for several moments and then Loki rasped, with a voice that sounded unused for days, ‘Sylvie. Sylvie, I need to tell you something.’

Sylvie’s deep blue eyes widened, her heart began to pound like a wild drum in her chest. ‘What?’ she could only say as Loki struggled to find the words for what he had just learned.

When it was over, they both started to cry. 

Loki and Sylvie had never been ones for excessive, histrionic displays of emotion. They had had to armour themselves in toughness and charm and mischief and wit all their lives despite the turbulence that roared inside of them. 

And now here the both of them stood, silent but for the ragged intake of breath as they struggled to bring themselves under some semblance of control. 

Eventually they stopped. Each observed the other���s tear-streaked face.

‘Sylvie...’ Loki said again. The word seemed to ground him and her at the same time.

‘Not another pep talk please.’ Sylvie uttered with a weak attempt at humour, that fell flat instantly with the sheer desperation in her tone.

‘No. I have to tell you something else.’

Sylvie wasn’t sure that she could handle anything else.

Loki stepped closer to her, and avoided her gaze, his breathing picking up again.

Sylvie felt herself instinctively mirroring him, and forced herself to focus.

Loki looked her in the eyes.

‘We will figure this out.’ 

It really was too much.

‘How do you know that?’ How was there any certainty about anything anymore?

‘Because, uh -’ Loki’s near-gasping for air cut him off and he twisted his sweaty hands together. 

‘Well, back on Lamentis…’ It was all too impossible to explain. Loki gestured helplessly, trying to find the beginnings of some clever story that had never failed to come to him with infinite ease before and now completely failed him.

He gave up. His arms dropped to his sides. 

‘This is new for me. Um -’ Loki’s heart raced in his chest and the sound seemed amplified, obliterating his thoughts. They were a tangle of grief and passion and...and love - a tangle that was impossible to reconcile.

Loki turned his hands towards his heart, as though it could speak for him.

‘What?’ Sylvie breathed, hardly daring to speak, her own heart pulsing just as intensely.

They would figure this out. They would. Some very deep and very soulful part in both of them, inextricably linking one to the other, knew it. Loki clasped her upper arms, barely believing himself.

I love you Sylvie. Sylvie I love you. Sylvie I will always love you - you beautiful spirit of mischief. Sylvie, we are free and we will figure this out. I love you Sylvie, I love you.

‘If it were now to die, ‘twere now to be most happy.’ thought Loki, even as he felt the icy touch of Ravonna Renslayer’s weapon seize his heart and rip its chill through his body, as Sylvie watched him disintegrate right before her eyes which never left his - as he was transported to some realm of chaos where the God of Mischief would navigate the labyrinth back to his Goddess so that he could speak those words unsung softly in her ear before bending down to her lips and watching the TVA burn.

- Inspired by a fantastic suggestion from asgardian1112! More suggestions for future stories gladly welcome!

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Dirty computer.

summary: in order to clean the world, humans need to be cleaned too.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: angst, fluff, use of needles.

a/n: this concept is heavily inspired by Janelle Monae's Dirty Cumputer. Which means, I do not take credit of the idea at all, i just thought it would be an interesting context to write my first AU. Hope you like it, please let me know what you think! 

italics mean flashbacks.

you can find the rest of my masterlist here

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

They start calling human beings computers, and people started vanishing and with that, the cleaning began. If you were different, you were dirty. If you refused to live the way they dictated, you were dirty. And if you were dirty… it was just only a matter of time until they find you.

No one knew how they did it, one day you’d only disappear without leaving any trace that you were once there.

Y/N felt the cold metal she was laying on before she saw it, her eyes feeling too sensitive to flutter open, despite her tries. She felt how the table started moving, placing her in a vertical position, and that’s when she finally opened her eyes.

A person dressed in a white bodysuit and a gas mask covers their face was in front of her, looking at her in the eye while they placed some sort of helmet on her head. She was too scared and disorientated to protest, so she limited herself to observe how the same person backed off after putting the helmet on her.

She wanted to ask where was she, who and why they took her, but before any sort of noise could leave her mouth, a voice was heard in the room.

“You will repeat after me. Your name is Y/N 57821.” The voice sounded… emotionless. Almost robotic.

“My name is… Y/N 57821.” She repeated, confusion adorning her features.

“I am a dirty computer.” Y/N furrowed. A what?

Despite her confusion and growing desperation, she repeated. “I am a dirty computer.”

“I am ready to be cleaned.”

“I…I” She hesitated.

“I am ready to be cleaned.” The voice said again, forcing her to repeat the words. However, Y/N stayed quiet. “Unfortunately, my dear. Cleaners please initiate the nevermind.” She commanded.

Y/N wasn’t able to see it, but behind the glass on the wall there were two people watching from a monitor, waiting for the order to begin with the cleaning. One of them pushed a button and suddenly there was gas coming out of holes in the wall. Her pulse raised as she tried to move, but failed. Y/N could feel how the gas was entering her nostrils and she began panicking.

The men behind the glass scrolled through what looked like a compilation of memories that only existed in her head, lurking through her memory data until they clicked one.

83 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 293297]

        PLAY MEMORY?

YES.                             NO.

The music coming out from the speakers was loud, and the destination of their ride wasn’t clear yet. What was clear was the tight grip Harry had on Y/N’s hand, occasionally bringing it up to his lips to place little kisses on her knuckles.

She’d giggle every time, allowing herself to close her eyes and enjoy the moment she was living with her lover. Driving down the coast, the breeze of the ocean made her hair fly everywhere and at Harry’s eyes, there’s nothing more beautiful than the woman next to him.

“Have you ever wanted to get… lost?” she asked, turning to look at him.

Harry turned his head towards her for a second before looking back at the road. “Have you?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” She admitted. “But I wouldn’t disappear without telling you.”

“We can always disappear together.”

A big smile formed on her face as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders the best she could considering the angle. Y/N attacked Harry’s face with dozens of little kisses, making him chuckle and try to kiss her back every time her lips would land on his.

“Just me and you, baby.”

“Mmm, I like how that sounds.” He grinned. “Me and you.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Letting go of the steering wheel for a second, Harry cupped his lover’s face and stamped his lips on hers in a passionate kiss.

At plain sight they were just two young souls waiting to spend eternity together, it was them against the world. Forever.

       DELETE MEMORY?

YES.                                NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

One single tear rolled down her eye before once again falling unconscious on the cold, metal table. Alone.

Y/N didn’t notice when they carried her outside of the room, getting her into a new one. Two guards stood by the door, protecting it from whoever that wanted to come in, or out.

The door opened and revealed a tall man dressed in a similar white bodysuit she was wearing. He stopped his tracks when he was in front of her, and extended his arm to touch her hand gently.

“Good morning, Y/N.” he tried to wake her up from her slumber but received no response. “Y/N.” he tried again, this time making her open her eyes slowly.

It took her a moment to adjust to the lighting in the room before she turned her head to the voice that was responsible for waking her from her sleep. The man smiled warmly to her, trying to appear as friendly as possible. “My name is Haribo53. I’m here to escort you from the darkness into the light.” He spoke again, pulling from her hand to lift her into a sitting position.

“Harry.” She whispered in disbelief, tears forming in her eyes.

“You won’t be able to move your legs for a while.” He said, turning her towards him. A small frown appears on his face the longer he stared at her, but he tried to shake it off.

“I didn’t… I thought I’d never see you again.” She said, trying to reach for his hand but he turned around, ignoring her words. Harry grabbed what looked like a tablet from the wall, starting to type away. “Did they hurt you?” Her voice was trembling and barely above a whisper, afraid of the answer.

“Is it okay if I call you Y/N?” he asked, once again ignoring her questions.

“What?”

“Is what we have in your file, right?” he explained softly, grabbing a small flashlight. He started exanimating her, and her eyes closed when he pointed the light to her face. Nonetheless, she nodded. “If there’s anything else you’d rather be called, you just let me know.” No matter how much he tried to soften his voice, it still sounded robotic, as if what he was saying was something he was told to repeat rather than something he wanted to say. “I’m here to make your experience sweet as honey.”

“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me, Harry?” her voice broke, feeling hurt.

“As I said, my name is Haribo53 and I don’t know you… at least not yet. But what I do know, is that we are here to get you clean.” Although he was smiling at her, said smile never reached his eyes.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to not cry. She didn’t understand a single thing that was happening right now, and seeing Harry again for the first time in a long time has made her feel so many emotions at once that she wasn’t sure her body would be able to handle it. She wasn’t sure if she could handle having him in front of him and wanting to kiss him when he doesn’t even remember her name.

Harry took her to the room she was in at first, asking her to lay down in the same metal table she was before. And this time she did it on her own because Harry told her to. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself down while he put the helmet back on her head. He stepped aside and the same robotic voice sounded loud in the room.

“You will repeat after me.”

“I will repeat after you.”

“Your name is Y/N 57821.” Y/N repeated the words. “I am a dirty computer.” Sighing, she repeated. “I am ready to be cleaned.”

Y/N closed her eyes, afraid of what was going to happen once she repeated those last words. The whole thing felt and seemed surreal and the anxiety started to grow in her. “I am ready to be cleaned.”

“Ready for cleaning.”

“She’s ready for cleaning.” The same two men remained on their seats behind the glass, ready to keep scrolling through Y/N’s collection of memories.

“Which memory exactly?”

“Any memory you see.”

272 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 310620]

        PLAY MEMORY?

YES.                             NO.

Y/N wasn’t sure how her friend convinced her to pierce her nipples, but here they were, entering the shop in the middle of the night after leaving the bar they spent hours drinking at.

“Didn’t read the sign? We’re closed, sweetness.” Both girls turned towards the source of the voice. A black-haired man with numerous tattoos on his arms stood behind them.

“Do you pierce nipples?” Zoey, Y/N’s friend asked, trying to maintain balance by grabbing Y/N’s shoulder.

“Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you.” he smirked.

“I’ll take care of them, Mitch.” A new voice was heard and a brunette man walked in, turning on the lights. Even in her drunken state, Y/N was sure she’s never seen someone as attractive as him. His curls sat on top of his head, green eyes suddenly looking directly at her. A smirk formed on his face as he noticed her stare. “I’m Harry. Didn’t catch your name, beautiful.”

“Because I haven’t told you.” She smirked back at him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Alright, Y/N. You said you and your friend wanted to get your… nipples?” She nodded. “Your nipples pierced.”

“That’s right. Can you do it?” Y/N asked, feeling more confident with the alcohol running through her system. She bit her lip, waiting patiently for Harry to answer.

“Christ, just do it, H. I’ll handle the friend.”

Harry breathed a laugh as he saw his friend and coworker take Zoey to a different room, hearing how the girl tried to make conversation but resulted in just drunken thoughts and nonsense. “I think you and your friend are a little too drunk to decide to pierce ya nipples, love.”

Y/N could swear her panties were soaked just by hearing the thick British accent he had. The way he called her love sent shivers down her spine, but she shrugged it off, trying to look sure of her decision. “Wouldn’t be the first time you see someone doing something stupid while being drunk.”

They looked at each other for a second, holding eye contact. “You got me there. I still need you to sign some papers, though.”

She try to not stumble too much while walking towards him, signing whatever he told her to, feeling too eager to get this done. Harry led her to a private room, where he told her to take her shirt off and lay down.

He tried to not look as Y/N undressed herself, remaining himself she was intoxicated and wasn’t on her five senses.

Y/N didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that she looked at Harry’s face the entire time, but it actually didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. Sure, the second one hurt like a bitch because she was already expecting it, but looking at him concentrated, slightly poking his tongue out of his mouth, made it all more bearable.

“Would I see you again?” He dared to ask after she paid for her new additions.

“It depends. Will I have a shirt on?” she raised an eyebrow, clearly teasing him.

“Only if I can take it off.”

       DELETE MEMORY?

YES.                                NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

42 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 310620]

        PLAY MEMORY?

YES.                             NO.

Today was the day, Y/N and Harry were leaving to start a new life and leave behind the town that has always been too small for their big dreams. Away from the old, boring life and away from her parents who tried to do everything to separate them.

Y/N woke up as soon as the sun came out, too excited to stay in bed, she made her bags and dropped them by the door. She wasn’t sure where they’d be going, but she didn’t care as long as it was with Harry.

She waited in her living room, bouncing her leg up and down due to her nerves. Her parents weren’t supposed to come back until night, but she was still alert in case they decided to change their plans. A part of her felt bad for leaving without saying goodbye, but it was for the best. Y/N didn’t want to be here anymore.

Watching through the window, she saw how Harry’s car parked right in front of her house and she ran towards the door and threw herself at him as soon as she opened the door. “Someone’s excited.” Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. “Ready, love?”

“Sooo ready. Let’s leave already.”

They hurried to get her bags in the trunk of the convertible, and Y/N looked back at her house for a moment before returning her gaze to Harry. She took a deep breath before getting into the passenger seat of the car. As he pulled away from the driveway, Harry placed one of his hands on her thigh.

“We just have to stop by the shop and say goodbye to Mitch, babe.” He said.

“Is he going to be okay by himself?”

“Yeah, he’s been wanting to do his own thing for a while now.”

The drive from her house to the tattoo shop wasn’t a long one, and soon they found themselves crossing the door of the building they spent hours and hours in. Mitch was sitting behind the desk on the front, looking through a magazine. He looked up when he heard the bell ring and a big grin appeared on his face when he saw his friends.

“And who do we have here? The lovebirds!”

“Hi, Mitch.” Y/N smiled at him.

“We’re here to say goodbye, mate.” Harry said.

Although Mitch was sad they were leaving, he also couldn’t be happier for his friends. He knew they’d stay in contact, and he could always go visit them wherever they went. The trio hugged, Y/N being in the middle of them. She has grown pretty close to the long-haired man ever since she started dating Harry, which was great considering how closed off Mitch could be.

“I hate to admit it but I’m going to miss you two.”

“You need to visit us soon.”

“I will, please stay out of trouble." Mitch chuckled.

All of a sudden, the windows shattered into a million pieces, making a thunderous noise. They dropped to the floor, trying to shield themselves from the glass.

"What the hell is happening?!" Y/N exclaimed out of desperation. Her hair had pieces of crystal and there was a small cut on Mitch's left cheek. "Is someone coming?"

"I think so. Dammit." Harry cursed under his breath. "Mitch, take Y/N to the back of the store."

"No!" She interjected rapidly. "Harry, don't."

"Fuck, just do it, baby." Breathing through his nose, Harry got up from the floor. "I'll see you there, I promise."

Mitch pulled from Y/N, having to almost carry her to the back of the store to hide from whoever was coming. Tears rolled down her eyes as they hide behind some boxes, trying to keep it quiet but fearing for Harry. Mitch held Y/N in his arms to keep her from running.

It sounded like there was a fight out there, things were thrown making all kinds of noises.

"Let go of me!" Harry yelled when two different men grabbed him from the arms, immobilizing him. They started to carry him out of the shop, and Y/N started to try to free herself from Mitch's hold. "Where the fuck are you taking me?"

"Y/N, stop." He tried. "For fuck's sake, stop it."

"Harry's in trouble! Mitch, we have to help."

"You're going to get yourself hurt if you go out."

"I can't leave him."

With a sudden move, she freed herself from Mitch and ran to the front of the shop again. She was met with all kinds of broken objects and no sight of Harry.

"He's gone. They took him."

       DELETE MEMORY?

YES.                                 NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

They called this place "The House of the New Dawn". This place where they drained us of our dirt and all the things that made us special, and just when you thought you could remember something, just when you thought you could see the past clearly... They would hit you with nevermind.

This gas would take over and then you were lost... sleeping. And you didn't remember anything at all.

Y/N had lost track of how many days had passed since her arrival, the only thing she'd remember was the trip from her room to the chamber where they'd put her to sleep to erase her memories and everything that made her... her.

They would erase everything they came across with. From the happiest memories she treasured the most to the ones she once would have given anything to forget.

She'd no longer protest, she'd no longer put on a fight. She'd see how Harry treated her like a stranger, his touch suddenly feeling colder and unfamiliar as time went by. Y/N would try to force her brain to remember, to remember she was a person, that what they were doing to her was not cleaning her. But every day it became harder, and harder... and she gave up.

63 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 972942]

        PLAY MEMORY?

YES.                             NO.

"Where were you last night?" Y/N's father, Jonathan, grabbed her by her arm, stopping her from going upstairs without talking to him first.

"I told you I'd be out."

"Were you with that man again? Don't lie to me, Y/N." He said sternly.

"His name is Harry, and yes." Y/N didn't see any point at lying, they lived in a small town and sooner or later her father would know the truth.

"I have told you, I do not trust him."

"Well, I do." She crossed her arms across her chest, challenging him.

"You can't trust someone who goes out looking like that."

"Like what? A normal person?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Just because he has tattoos it means he's a criminal, you know?"

"People like him will only bring trouble to your life. Do you think he loves you? He'll only use you, and I will now allow that."

"This would be shocking to you, but he does love me. And guess what?! I do too!" She got out of his hold.

"You will not see him again, I forbid it!"

"You can't do that!"

"For as long as you live under my roof, you'll live under my orders. And believe me when I say you will not see him again."

"I guess I'll fucking leave then!"

She ran upstairs and towards her bedroom, hearing how her father called her full name repeatedly, growing angrier each time. Y/N couldn't understand why he hated Harry so much, why he was so against the idea of her being happy with him. In her sight, there was anything wrong with him. Harry was sweet, caring, attentive. He was everything anyone would want as a partner, and she didn't care if her dad didn't like him. She loved Harry, and she planned on staying with him for the rest of her life.

       DELETE MEMORY?

YES.                                NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

173 DAYS AGO.

[MEMORY 862037]

        PLAY MEMORY?

YES.                              NO.

"Can I color your tattoos?"

"All of them?" He chucked.

"Please?" She gave him her best puppy eyes.

"Be my guest, babe."

Harry laid back on the bed and put his hands under his head, adoring the view he had. Y/N was straddling his waist, trying to get a better angle of his butterfly tattoo. She'd ofter place little kisses on his belly, sending shivers down his spine. He smiled when Y/N poked her tongue out of her mouth, an habit she's learned from him.

"You're so pretty." Harry let out after a while of being in complete silence.

"So are you." She looked up and smiled at him. He thought his heart would explode from all the love and adoration he was feeling right now. Wearing nothing but his shirt, her messy hair everywhere, not a single drop of makeup on her face. She looked like an absolute angel.

"Have you considered having one?" He asked. "A tattoo, I mean."

"Sometimes, but I'm kinda afraid of needles." Her words made Harry giggle.

"Babe, you got your nipples pierced. Kinda hard to believe you're afraid of them." He teased her.

"Don't be mean, I was drunk. I don't think I would have the balls to do it sober."

"What if I do it?" He suggested. "It could be something small, in a place your folks wouldn't see."

"I don't know..."

"Then you can make one for me."

"Are you kidding?" She put her hands on his chest, forgetting the markers she was using to color his tattoos. He shocks his head, smiling widely at her. "I've never done that before."

"I'll teach you. I'll be fun, babe."

"What if I hurt you?"

"You won't, I trust you."

And that's how they ended up sitting in Harry's office, deciding their future tattoos together. Y/N decided to get Harry's name on her wrist in braille language, she could always wear some bracelets to hide it. She sat on Harry's left thigh, wanting to be as close as possible to him. She watched the process, feeling curious about the way the ink permanently entered her body. And it excited the thought of Harry's name being plastered on her body.

"What do you think? Do you like it?" He asked as he wiped her wrist carefully. She observed the tattoo with a dreamy smile on her face, it was simple but beautiful. The dots wouldn't mean anything to any other person, but it was okay as long as she knew what it meant.

"I love it, H. Thank you."

"You're welcome, love. Now, it's your turn." He offered his equipment, kissing her cheek in reassurance. "I'll guide you, it's fine."

Harry has chosen Y/N's name as well, but not in braille. He wanted it on his chest, right where his heart was. She had to turn on straddle his hips, trying to get comfortable. "I will like I'll stab you."

"Don't be a baby, just do it."

Slowly but surely, Y/N got his tattoo done. She had to stop her hand from shaking a little, but Harry didn't care if it was a little messy. It was her handwriting after all, and it was made by her. He'd never hate anything made by her.

"I love you." He whispered, hopelessly in love.

        DELETE MEMORY?

YES.                                   NO.

MEMORY DELETED.

Y/N was taken back to her room, where she spent what it felt like hours staring at the wall in front of her. She felt drained as if she didn't have any energy left.

She heard the door open behind her and soon enough Harry was in front of her, getting the bracelets they had put on her wrists off. He gently lifted the sleeve of her bodysuit, furrowing when he saw the dots on her wrist. Harry looked up at her in confusion, but Y/N kept her head down.

"They're taking everything away from me." She mumbled. "I don't even remember how we met anymore." Her voice broke. "I'm not sure if any of this actually happened."

Harry let go of her wrist and sat down next to her, taking a deep breath.

"Listen, thinking will only make it harder. It's best if you just... enjoy the process." he looked at her again. "Accept it. People used to work so hard to be free. But we're lucky here. All we have to do is forget."

"But I don't want to forget you." Her voice was barely above a whisper, a tear rolling down her eye.

They looked at each other's eyes before Harry finally spoke. "You don't have a choice."

He got up and exited the room, once again leaving her alone with her thoughts. Or what was left of them.

A woman dressed in a white long-sleeved dress was walking down the hallway, and Harry was quick to stop her way when he saw her.

"Mother Victoria? May I speak with you for a minute?"

"I hope this is important." She responded.

"It's about Y/N 57821."

"Go on." She said, continuing her way but with Harry following her this time.

"It's as if she remembers me. Really knows me. She tells me things about myself." A very small smile formed on his face. "About where I'm from. She says my name was Harry. And I made tattoos, played the guitar. And uh... she says that we were in love." He breathed a laugh.

"That's enough." She cut him off. "You know that's impossible. A dirty mind will do anything to survive. Right now she's dirty, tomorrow after the walk she'll be clean." She smiled. "And if she's lucky in a few days she'll be a torch just like you." She paused. "And we'll have all this nonsense behind us."

She kept walking, leaving him alone in the hallway. "Yes, mother."

Day by day, they kept erasing Y/N's memories. It all stopped to make sense in her head, the little pieces she held onto were falling apart. The holes in her mind were too big, too deep.

Harry would seat next to her on the bed, caressing the tattoo in her wrist, as if he was trying to make it make sense to him. As if he was trying to remember. His breathing started to raise, a permanent frown on his face.

"You remember..." She muttered.

He offered her the tiniest smile, shaking his head. "I'm sorry." His eyes were filled with tears, and so were hers. "It's too late."

[babyybitchhh]

Announcement

Alrighty, then. This post has been a long time coming so lets get right into it.

After much deliberation, I've decided not to push the self destruct button. I thought about it. Oh, when I say I was SO damn close to deleting this entire blog and all my fics right along with it. I'm frustrated and angry with myself, and I can't exactly say I'm doing well atm, but I know when things start to get better I'll want to write again, in earnest, and then I'd have to start over from scratch. Egg all over my face. Clown shit. We don't know her.

BUT. I think its clear to any and all that this is not working. It's just not. I expect too much of myself, for starters. And when it feels like others expect a certain level of performance from me that I just can't nail consistently due to my own ineptitude, my brain powers off. Is it some kind of executive dysfunction? Is it a fear of failing? A fear of success? Plain old anxiety? Who knows! I certainly don't. Whatever it is, it's hanging over my head like a guillotine. I'm beyond stressed and barely staying afloat irl, but then when I turn towards what should be a fun and therapeutic outlet all I see are expectations.

"When will you post the next chapter" on works that I WANT to finish but yet fear putting out a subpar product for and disappointing people.

"Will you write a follow up piece" for works that I WANT to expand on but don't know how to in a way that will make everyone else happy, let alone myself.

"Are you working on my request" for WIPs I have partially drafted and yet no way of knowing if that person - or anyone! - will even enjoy it.

I honestly feel guilty working on my own ideas instead of the multiple prompts in my inbox. I'm pretty sure that's part of my malfunction with my Ogun fic and others like it that are close to being done but remain unfinished simply because I'm thinking about what everyone else wants. It'd be one thing if I could just churn out content without a second thought but I can't. Like, it genuinely upsets me thinking that people are stuck in limbo waiting because I'm too chicken shit to just go with the flow instead of obsessing over every single line of text to the point of nausea, all for the sake of putting out "quality" content. I feel bad. I want to enjoy the writing process again, just like I did when I first got back into it with OsoSan. I shouldn't have started taking requests if I wasn't going to deliver, I know, and I sincerely apologize for my lack of foresight but it is what it is. I can't change the past. But what I CAN do is start fresh. So, long story short, there are going to be some changes coming to this blog.

A total revamp. I'm going to do an overhaul on the whole thing so don't be surprised when it starts to look different. I'm going to work primarily on navigation and organization, and try to tidy up a bit.

I'm turning off anon. Both because people looking to have a go with writers aren't so brave when that's no longer an option and also because I want to get as far away from those expectations as possible. I wont be reading or responding to comments on AO3 anymore for that same reason. I love you guys, and you're more than welcome to talk to me in DM's if you're more comfortable that way, but the long list of asks wanting to know wtf I'm doing in my spare time if not writing this or that is doing more harm than good.

I'm getting rid of the requests page and also purging any that I haven't already started working on - hopefully once I get into a better groove I'll actually be able to finish them, because I genuinely would like to. I really am sorry to everyone who's been waiting for their request to be fulfilled but I'm clearly not talented or confident enough to juggle my own ideas with someone else's. Maybe at some point in the future, when I'm a better writer, I'll start taking them again and we can all be happy.

And finally, I'm going to start experimenting with my writing method. As in, you're probably going to see shorter, less obsessively curated pieces popping up on my page that may not always be sexual in nature. I just really need to buckle down and work on this - all of it - and I'm determined to improve my skills even if it kills me. I have the urge to write every single day but it's hard when I'm the way I am and I've backed myself into a corner like this. I need to learn how to stop overthinking everything and just DO it. I know my productivity would increase and, with it, so would the overall quality of my work so I'm going to be focusing on different areas that need improvement. Not everything I put out will be good but that's part of the process, right? Right.

I totally understand if I lose followers for any of the above reasons, or even just personal ones, so don't hesitate to do so if you feel like you can't jive with this blog anymore. I appreciate you taking the time to read all this and I hope you understand my reasons for needing to do a reset on this page. This is exactly why I didn't want to start taking commissions and I would once again like to apologize to anyone I've let down.

P.S. I've had this distinct feeling that certain people in the writing community are not happy with me for a while now and although I'm not entirely sure what I've done wrong, I would still like to issue a formal apology for any toes I might have stepped on. That was never my intention. I can't claim to be a saint by any stretch of the imagination, but I have no ill will towards anyone. If its about the patreon I subscribed to and then left a month later, it had nothing to do with the author in question. I just belatedly realized I had more money coming out of my account than I could handle at the time and yes that weighs heavy on my shoulders. If its about the way I suddenly disappear in private chats, that's also something that shouldn't be taken personally. I genuinely have a hard time keeping up conversations with people, and I feel like a bother more often than not. If it's about the discords I join and then never participate in, see the above. If its about the way I fangirl or enthusiastically support some writers but not others, I never meant any harm by it. I just can't conceivably read everything that comes across my dash and, yes, my favorites are prioritized. Either way, whatever the grievances may be, anon will remain on until I start the revamp process some time tomorrow night so if whoever wants to air out their problems go for it. I probably wont post them but I will read them and try to learn from them, so have at it.

[spookyfbi]

Another Untitled/Unfinnished Commission Dave Fic

Summary: Klaus dropped the briefcase and stumbled forward, falling to his knees, looking Dave over, drinking him in because it was Dave! It was Dave and how could this possibly be?

Author’s Notes: Klaus has no idea what’s going on because neither do I. He’s also pretty drunk. I guess we have to rely on Dave to push the plot forward, and what a marvellous and sexy job he’s doing of it too.

———

Klaus stumbled along the footpath, being careful to walk in a straight line. Well, being careful at least not to stumble into oncoming traffic. He wasn’t trying to get himself killed. Although if it happened, would it be the worst thing in the world? Perhaps he’d see Ben again. Ben - his brother, not that Sparrow guy - may be gone in a way that Klaus couldn’t see with his powers, but that didn’t mean he was gone in a way that Klaus couldn’t see if he himself were dead. Did it? Klaus may be the seance, but he had no idea how these things really worked. Perhaps he’d see Dave again. Klaus didn’t even know if Dave had met the same fate in Vietnam or if his life had also been changed like everything else. He had enlisted a few days earlier. Did that mean anything? Perhaps he’d see that little bitch on her bicycle and she’d send him right back. Or perhaps he’d see dear old Dad again and get another shave. Alright, so maybe Klaus dying did have the potential to be the worst thing in the world.

Klaus knew where his body was taking him. It was like muscle memory. Good old… Bill? Bruce? Or was it Boris? Whatever his name was, Klaus knew he had the good shit that would take the pain away, because the bottle of Gin he was halfway through just wasn’t cutting it anymore and he needed something stronger. And he’d just given a random guy a blowjob in exchange for a crisp $100 bill which he’d tucked away in his skirt pocket - Vanya had the nerve to throw away a perfectly good skirt with pockets! - so things seemed to be looking up for Klaus today. As up as they ever tended to be for Klaus anyway.

Suddenly, there were hands on him from behind, one over his mouth and the other around his waist. Muscle memory and some primal self preservation instinct kicked in and Klaus elbowed his assailant and sent his fist flying back into their nose before twisting out of their grasp. Klaus looked back to see who had attacked him and he saw a man in navy blue pants and a hooded black cloak on his knees and doubled over in pain and clutching his abdomen where Klaus had elbowed him. Klaus couldn’t see his face but he supposed it didn’t matter. Some random guy who thought he could get away with god knows what. Served him right! Then Klaus saw a briefcase next to the man and hey, perhaps there was something valuable inside. What were the odds that this was another time travelling briefcase that would take him to the middle of a war zone again? Pretty slim, Klaus figured, even in his inebriated state, and he liked those odds. So he picked up the briefcase and then gave the man a kick in the abdomen for good measure. “You picked the wrong guy in a skirt to mess with, Asshole!” he spat.

Klaus turned around and was about to start wondering where his bottle of gin went when he heard the man speak. “Klaus, wait!” And Klaus stopped and his heart skipped a beat as he spun back around because that voice was so familiar in the most impossible way.

The hood was off and it was Dave and there was blood smeared under his nose and he was leaning back on his heels and looking at Klaus with his brows knitted together and then he closed his eyes so forlornly and it was Dave and Klaus dropped the briefcase and stumbled forward, falling to his knees, looking Dave over, drinking him in because it was Dave! It was Dave and how could this possibly be? Klaus reached out to touch Dave, almost afraid that his fingers would pass right through, but they were met with solid chest, solid shoulder, solid face. Dave opened his eyes then and gave Klaus a sad half smile, reaching his own hand to touch Klaus’ face, cradling his cheek the way he often used to. Klaus ran his thumb along Dave’s upper lip, wiping away the blood that had fallen from his nose. He had an overwhelming desire to murder whoever had hurt Dave in this way before remembering that it was him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Years of training and then years of living on the streets, it-” then he stopped and frowned. “Wait, why did you grab me?”

Dave looked down sheepishly. “I was trying to save your life. In retrospect I realise it was kind of a stupid move.” And Klaus knew a thing or two about making stupid decisions in an effort to save a life. But… was he in danger?

“From what?”

Dave looked up at him again, the sadness still in his eyes, and his thumb began stroking back and forth along his cheek. “The heroin you were about to buy.” He said quietly. “The coroner said it was an overdose. I don’t know if it was just a bad batch, or…” The sentence seemed to catch in Dave’s throat. He closed his eyes again and sighed, letting his hands slip from Klaus to cradle his own head. “Shit.” he said. “Shit shit shit.”

“Hey…” Klaus said gently. “It’s okay.” He wasn’t entirely sure what had gotten Dave so upset all of a sudden, but he tried to offer whatever comfort he could.

Dave lifted his head again to look at Klaus. “No, it’s not. I’m not supposed to let you see me.” He ran his hands through his hair and looked around. “What am I gonna do? I have to go back, I have to figure out a way to fix this…” He looked back at Klaus. “Will you come with me?”

“Okay.” Klaus had no idea what was going on, none of this made any sense, but what else was new? But one thing he was sure of, whatever was happening, was that he would follow Dave anywhere.

Dave nodded, then he started to stand up but winced and grabbed his abdomen again, so Klaus helped him up. Then Dave picked up the briefcase that Klaus had dropped and looked back at Klaus with a smile. “Hold on.” He said, as though Klaus had to be told, as though Klaus had let go since they’d made contact.

———

Dave had taken Klaus’ hand as soon as they’d arrived… wherever it was that they’d gone. A building of some sort. He’d ditched the robe after wiping the blood from his face and underneath he was wearing a navy blue suit and a white shirt and a very boring tie. He fit right in among the other people in office attire in this very bureaucratic looking building. Klaus didn’t, with his silver skirt and his white faux fur coat and his no shirt and his sneakers. Not that he cared; the goal of Klaus’ fashion choices was never to fit in, especially not in a place like this. But Dave seemed to get a little edgy whenever someone walked past them and did his best to block Klaus from their view. Klaus couldn’t find it in himself to be too upset about it though. He was still riding the high of Dave being alive, Dave’s hand solid in his own. Dave, about a foot ahead of him, looking around, leading him somewhere, who knew where. Klaus watched Dave’s back as he’d done a few times before as they marched through the Vietnamese jungle, one foot in front of the other. Klaus had followed him then, too, not caring where they were going at that time either. They could have been marching to their probable death. On some days they were, and Klaus still followed. All the way to the front lines, and he’d do it again and again. As long as Dave was there to be followed.

Finally they stopped at a door. There was a placard which read:

INFINITE SWITCHBOARD 2589

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

Dave peered through the peephole above the placard and then opened the door and ushered Klaus in, closing it behind them. He blew out a quick sigh and then made his way over to what looked like… well, a massive switchboard. He let go of Klaus’ hand and took hold of a few wires, and began placing them into various holes in the switchboard. Although he made a few mistakes along the way which got him electrocuted, Dave seemed to know roughly where the wires were supposed to go. It was delightful to watch Dave, sure hands and focussed eyes. It was delightful to watch Dave, period. It was delightful just to know that Dave was alive, living his life and doing things and filling his lungs with air. Klaus studied Dave’s face. He hadn’t realised how much of it he’d forgotten. The image in his mind was much younger, the most recent version of Dave that he’d seen. Much too young for Klaus to feel the way about Dave that he wanted to. This Dave was his Dave, through and through. The Dave who had held him, kissed him, loved him. The Dave who still loved him, because he was alive.

“Okay,” Dave said finally, and then he turned a few knobs and the screens came to life. They showed a hooded assailant grabbing Klaus from behind, Klaus fighting back, taking the briefcase Dave revealing himself, Klaus kneeling down, everything that had happened moments ago. How had all this been captured on film, and at different angles too? “Okay, delete…” Dave muttered to himself as he looked around the switchboard. “If I were a delete button, where would I be…?”

Klaus had an overwhelming feeling that he knew what would help Dave. He leaned across Dave and put his finger over one of the holes. “Why don’t you connect this one…” then he lifted his hand to touch one of the other holes “… to this one?”

Dave looked at him. “You know how to operate the ISB?”

Klaus leaned back and returned Dave’s gaze. His eyes were so blue! Klaus hadn’t forgotten, but… had they really been that spectacular? “The what?” he asked

Dave held his gaze for a few moments and Klaus luxuriated in the sight. Then Dave looked back at the switchboard. “This one and this one?” he asked, pointing to the same holes Klaus had pointed to, and Klaus looked to verify that they were indeed the right ones. Klaus nodded and Dave looked back at him. “Are you basing that on anything in particular?”

Klaus shrugged, “Just a feeling.” He had instincts like this all the time and they’d never steered him wrong. He’d learned to trust them without much question. Dave had witnessed it a couple of times in Vietnam too, though he’d never really believed in that sort of thing. Confirmation bias, he’d called it.

Dave looked at the switchboard and furrowed his brow. He took a wire in his hands, and hesitated for a moment. Then he gave a small shrug and connected the two holes. The screen changed and only the word [DELETED] was displayed in red against a black background. Dave’s jaw dropped and he let out a triumphant noise. He looked back at Klaus grinning form ear to ear, and his hand found Klaus’ cheek again. “You’re incredible” he said reverently, and Klaus had an overwhelming desire to kiss him then. Had they really not kissed yet? So much had happened. Dave was alive and right there and his lips had gone unkissed all this time and that would not do. Klaus leaned into Dave and Dave closed the distance and their lips met and Klaus could smell Dave’s cologne. He’d only worn it when they were on leave, hadn’t bothered in the jungle. They all smelled in the jungle and they all accepted it, but that night in the bar Dave smelled of soap and that cologne and it had been intoxicatingly sexy when Klaus had leaned in and kissed Dave that night for the first time and now Klaus was bombarded with memories of that night, the excitement and the newness of it all after months of not daring to hope. For three and a half years Klaus had not dared to hope that he would ever see Dave again - why would he? And now here Dave was in his arms kissing him and Klaus was overwhelmed and he held onto Dave for dear life - for Dave’s dear life, much more precious than his own wretched one.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Dave turned and looked towards the door, pulling his lips away. “Shit!” Dave whispered. Klaus spared a quick glance to the intruder - an older woman in a grey skirt and blazer that matched her grey hair. Klaus returned his gaze to Dave, who hadn’t let go of him, so Klaus didn’t bother letting go either.

“Oh my god…” the woman said. “Oh my god, Dave, what are you doing?”

“Shit!” was all Dave could say.

“Are you authorised to use the ISB?” Klaus felt the woman’s eyes on him. He didn’t bother looking back at her. “What is he doing here?”

Dave swallowed. “Barb, please… I am begging you, please just walk away. You didn’t see anything.”

“You brought Number Four to Commission Headquarters? Are you insane? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Killed? Klaus’ blood turned to ice. He tried to stop the image forming in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut but it was no use. He knew what was coming. He’d lost so much of Dave’s memory to time but this image was crystal clear. The blood running down the corner of his mouth, the eyes glazing over, the body growing limp in his arms, the color fading from his face. Klaus focussed on his breathing and forced his eyes to open. He focussed on the Dave that was standing in front of him, vibrant and alive and animated. The feeling passed and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“We won’t be killed if you don’t say anything.” Dave said. Klaus looked back at the woman, Barb was it? Bitch, don’t you dare say anything. Not if it could get Dave killed. 

Dave looked down at Klaus’ hand and took it in his own. Klaus looked back at Dave. He hadn’t realised his hand had been trembling until he felt it against Dave’s steady hand. Dave gave him a look he knew well. They’d sought each other’s gaze countless times in Vietnam, whenever something bad had happened. When they’d lost someone or just made it through a dangerous situation. They’d always look for each other and wordlessly ask ‘you okay?’. Klaus forced a smile and nodded. Dave studied him for a few more moments, and then looked back at Barb.

Barb had said something, but Klaus had been a little distracted and hadn’t heard it. Obviously Dave had though, because he responded. “Alright, what do you want?”

Barb smirked, clasping her hands together. “I want to be maid of honor at your wedding!” Wedding? Dave’s eyes bulged and Klaus noticed the slight tinge of red blossoming in his cheeks. Wedding… what had Klaus missed? Dave closed his eyes, opened them, looked away, then eventually glanced at Klaus before quickly looking away again.

“Barb! We-we haven’t… we’re not… oh my god!” Dave closed his eyes again and the red of his cheeks deepened and Klaus was starting to formulate a theory about this wedding they were talking about.

“Sure!” Klaus said, turning his full attention to Barb now and letting go of Dave, stepping forward. “You can be our maid of honor, and you can help me pick out a dress! Or should I wear a suit?” He did a little twirl for emphasis.

“Oh, a dress, definitely!” Barb said with a squeal. Klaus squealed back and clapped his hands. If Dave’s life was on the line Klaus could certainly play the part of a blushing bride to keep this woman’s mouth shut.

“Then it’s settled!” he said, spinning around to look back at Dave, who was looking at him in horror. Klaus shrugged and took his hand. “Babe, we’ve finally got a maid of honor for our wedding!” Dave was still looking at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. He seemed to be trying to convey his annoyance and discomfort through his look, and Klaus read him loud and clear, but he was having entirely too much fun with the situation.

“Barb…” Dave said, looking back at her. “Can you just help me get Klaus back to my place without anyone seeing him?”

———

Dave leaned against the door as it closed behind him. “So, when are we gonna set a date for our wedding?” Klaus quipped. Dave shook his head and looked away. Was he still upset? About Barb, or about…? “What, you don’t want to marry me?” Klaus looked around to distract himself from the doubts that were bubbling away in the back of his mind. Dave’s place was nice, but small. A lot nicer than the cot they each had in a tent shared with nearly a dozen other men. “You’d be lucky to have me,” he said as he opened the fridge, although he knew it wasn’t true. 

Dave’s fridge had vegetables in it. And milk, eggs, cheese, margarine, a jug of water, orange juice… It was the fridge of someone who’s life was in order. No, Dave would not be the lucky one in their hypothetical marriage. Klaus closed the fridge and looked back at Dave when he hadn’t responded.

Dave was wincing and touching his abdomen. Klaus had completely forgotten! “Oh…” He rushed to Dave and helped him to the nearest chair. “Here, let me take a look.” He helped Dave out of his blazer and shirt. As he did so, he couldn’t help looking at the spot on his chest where he remembered Dave being shot. There was no wound. It was as though it had never happened. He placed his palm over it. 

“Commission standard issue body.” Dave said, as though that explained anything. As though that didn’t raise further questions.

Klaus ran his hands down, gently pressing into Dave’s ribs, checking for a reaction. First aid had been one of the skills good ol’ Dad had ensured they’d learned, and every now and then it came in handy. Dave only hissed when Klaus pressed into the soft tissue just below his ribs. “No broken bones,” he said gently, “I think it’s just a bruise. You’ll be alright.”

Klaus looked up at Dave and Dave held his gaze. He ran his fingers tenderly through Klaus’ hair. “I guess you must have a lot of questions about what the hell is going on.”

Klaus shook his head. “No” he said. It wasn’t entirely true, there were questions. But they weren’t nearly as pressing as the fact that Dave’s body - Commission standard issue apparently, whatever that meant - had gone all this time without being kissed. That just wouldn’t do. Klaus pressed a kiss to the spot under Dave’s ribs that he’d kicked earlier that day. And then another, slightly lower. He trailed kisses down Dave’s belly until he got to those boring navy blue pants. Then he undid the top button.

———

Klaus’ head rested on Dave’s chest as Dave ran his fingers up and down Klaus arm. The thud thud thud of Dave’s heartbeat was the most beautiful sound. He could lay like this forever. Dave’s vitality could sustain him. He didn’t realise he’d been drawing a small circle with his finger right where he remembered the bullet hole had been until Dave took his hand and kissed his fingertips. He lifted his head onto the pillow so he could look at Dave. “We don’t have to get married if you don’t want to.” Klaus said suddenly. He hadn’t been planning on bringing it up again, but now that he had, he couldn’t help running with it. “Or is it Barb being maid of honor that’s the problem? Because to be honest with you, I think Allison would kill me if she knew I’d given the job to someone else. I’m pretty sure she’s been designing my wedding dress for almost as long as she’s been designing her own. And if our childhood fashion shows are anything to go by, it’s going to be absolutely horrid. Although her red carpet dresses are pretty classy, so maybe she’s developed some taste. I don’t remember what her wedding dress looked like, I was way too drunk on all the free booze by the time she walked down the aisle.” Klaus stopped rambling when he caught the despair in Dave’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Klaus, you can’t stay here.” Dave whispered. “And I can’t go back with you.”

Klaus swallowed as the words registered. And now the questions bubbled up urgently inside him. How long had Dave been alive, and why hadn’t he told Klaus? And what had he been doing all this time? And did he still want to be with Klaus? Could they pick up exactly where they’d left off in Vietnam? Did Dave still want to? Did Dave still want Klaus now that he wasn’t the only other queer man in their platoon? What did Dave know about the world? What did Dave know about the timeline and the future and had Dave met other men? Had he dated other men? Had he slept with other men? Klaus certainly had, and women too, in the past 3 or so years. So why not Dave? Dave had a life here, wherever here was. He had a nice place with a fridge full of food and a life without Klaus. And Dave deserved it. He deserved to live. He deserved to have a nice place and a nice life. Klaus wanted that for him, whether he was a part of it or not. “Oh…” he said, doing his best to keep his voice and his expression steady. “I understand…”

Dave placed his hand on Klaus’ cheek and held his gaze. “I don’t think you do,” he whispered. Klaus thought he saw the shine of tears forming in Dave’s eyes. “I want to be with you more than anything. When they brought me back, you were the only thing on my mind, all I wanted was to see you. But they told me if you knew I was alive they’d have to kill you. Something about the timeline, I don’t know… So I stayed away. I don’t know why they brought me back only to keep us separated. My whole life I’ve never fit in anywhere and then I finally met someone I fit with perfectly. Klaus, you’re all I’ve ever wanted my entire life. I’ve missed you every singe day I’ve had to live without you. It’s so unfair…” Dave was sobbing now and Klaus wrapped his arms and legs around him, wanting nothing more than to give every inch of himself to Dave so that Dave would never have to feel this way again. Dave clung to Klaus like a lifeline and Klaus felt the prickling of tears behind his own eyes. Dave wiped his eyes and pulled back enough to look at Klaus. “And I would be lucky to marry you,” he whispered.

[izzy-b-hands]

A Merry Little Christmas

A sort of sequel thing? in the You Send Me universe, using that Reader.

You, Freddie, and Jim have it fairly nice in London, in Garden Lodge. Especially around the holidays, but that doesn't mean things are always perfect. In this case, it comes down to your mother, your family, and their consistent need to try and budge in on the good you've cultivated for yourself with Freddie and Jim.

TW for casual misgendering by Reader’s family, and mentions of familial discord.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“Is this better?” Freddie asked. 

You melted against him on the couch. “It is.” 

‘It’ was a few days early Christmas celebration, with yourself, Freddie, and Jim only. Dinner was takeaway from a shared favorite restaurant, with nothing else planned for the night aside from that and a gift exchange. 

And it was perfect. 

“Your mum did leave another message on the machine, asking if we were still coming by,” Jim dropped beside you onto the couch. “Didn’t we tell her we weren’t making the trip back in-” 

“November? Yes, we did,” you interrupted with a heavy sigh. “But apparently I should have made it a weekly reminder.” 

“She’s purposefully trying to get at you,” Freddie said. “She wouldn’t leave a message if she didn’t know we were here at home. We’ll just delete it; we can call her after the New Year.” 

“Already done,” Jim smiled. “I did give it a listen, very loud, whatever’s going on there.” 

“And now you see why I requested this,” you said. “A nice, calm, quiet, celebration. No extra family, no set ‘things’ to do except eat, relax, and open presents.” 

��There was an awful lot of screaming,” Jim noted. “Is that normal for them?” 

“The cousins are old enough it shouldn’t be,” you replied. “But yes. Depending on all what’s gone on so far, perfectly normal. Someone’s probably brought up politics, and if they’ve started the gift exchange, then the kids have likely had a fit over something they don’t like or don’t think was an expensive enough gift-” 

“This is why you told us to just send them money orders,” Freddie mused. “In equal amounts down to the cent.” 

“They wouldn’t actually call and complain about that,” Jim laughed, but his smile dropped as you frowned. “Oh.” 

“They absolutely would,” you said. “To me, at least, thinking I would tell you two so we could ‘remedy’ things for next year. As it is, I anticipate a call that they feel they weren’t given enough, even though that’s at least what I would have bought them in physical gifts, were I back home.” 

“They got what amounts to nearly five hundred American,” Freddie gave a shocked laugh. “And they’re children!” 

“No, the eldest is eighteen,” Jim reminded him.

“Essentially still a child,” Freddie said. “Can you imagine if Roger and I had that sort of money sitting around when we were that age?” 

“I have an idea,” you smirked, and gently jabbed at Jim, who bit back a giggle. 

“Hush,” Freddie smiled. “Honestly, you’ve got me curious now. If they call back, I want to hear how bad it is before we delete the message.” 

A beep sounded from the hall, and you stood, reaching down to pull both of them up. “Well? You wanted to hear them.” 

They leaned against you in the hall, hands slipping into yours as you reached for the ‘play’ button on the machine. 

“I’m alright,” you reassured them. “It might be rough to hear, but at least I’m not actually there in the mess like I was before.” 

“I’M ON THE PHONE!” was the first thing that greeted your ears. “BE QUIET SO SHE CAN HEAR US.” 

“Oh no,” Freddie murmured. 

“That’s not a great start,” Jim muttered. 

“Y/N, we miss you! I hope you can hear that!” your mother continued. In the background, you could hear cousins shouting, their parents, and your grandparents on top of that, begging for silence. “I can’t believe you didn’t come home! I know you said you were going to!” 

“We explicitly said we were not going to the States for any holiday celebrations,” Freddie sighed. “Did we not?” 

“We did,” you replied. “Three minutes? What on earth did she have to say?” 

You sped through parts of the rest of it, as bits of it were almost impossible to hear over your cousins and other family members. 

Finally, you got to the last minute. 

“And we just really don’t understand what this is about, you not coming home for Christmas,” your mother was mid-sentence as you let the tape go on it’s own. “If it’s about...all your personal stuff, you have to understand that we’re trying. We are. But you need to be forgiving. That’s what the holidays are ab-” 

“We’re done with that,” Jim said, and stabbed at the delete button. “She gets enough of her incorrectly based guilt trips in during the rest of the year. We don’t need the holiday version.” 

“I could have called, maybe,” you mumbled. It wasn’t that you had wanted to, frankly, you didn’t feel comfortable at the thought of it. But now, the thought was there that you should have, and you hadn’t, and-

“I can literally hear the wheels turning,” Freddie said. “Shut them down. None of that, not tonight. I should have known listening to this was a bad idea; I regret suggesting it.” 

“No, it’s okay,” you said. “I’m alright, really.” 

“That is sweet of you to say, but such a bad lie,” Jim tsked. “Come on, back to the couch. We have food to eat, presents to open-” 

The phone rang again, and all three of you shot a look towards it. 

“It could be one of the lads,” you said. “We should answer it.” 

“Roger, Brian, and John are all quite capable of leaving us a message,” Freddie said. “If you’ll let me give them so much credit! We can let the phone go.” 

The beep of another message, and a moment later, another call. 

“Go sit,” Jim instructed softly. “Let me unplug the phone for the rest of the night. If anyone around here needs to get a hold of us, they know they can always come over.” 

“We shouldn’t have to do that just because of my mother, or whoever else is calling on her behalf,” you scoffed, even as the machine beeped again, and the phone rang again not a second later. 

“This is harassment,” Freddie whispered angrily. 

“Go,” Jim pushed you towards the doorway to the sitting room. “We’re unplugging it.” 

Freddie’s hand was warm, but held onto yours tight as he pulled you into the sitting room, back to the couch. 

“What if someone else calls?” you protested. “We can’t give in to her like this!” 

“This isn’t giving in,” Freddie sighed desperately, eyes rolled back for a moment in frustration. “This is protection. You know that if we leave the phone as it is, your mother will literally fill up the tape with messages, and that all we’ll hear is the phone ringing. Well-meaning though she might be, we all know that isn’t how it actually comes off, and that there’s some manipulation behind it, even if she won’t acknowledge it.” 

He dropped onto the couch, and tugged at your hand until you settled onto his lap. “The whole idea of us doing this was so you didn’t have a Christmas like that. With your family shouting your ears off, your mother being...herself, to put it kindly. She can try and interrupt it from an ocean away, but we don’t have to let her succeed at it.” 

“Exactly,” Jim strode back into the room, and set a plate of sweets onto the coffee table. “Eat, and don’t spend another moment thinking about her.” 

“Took you awhile to unplug the phone,” Freddie said.

“I may have listened to the rest of the messages, to see how bad it was getting,” Jim winced. “Not proud of it, but curiosity killed the cat...” 

Delilah hopped onto his lap and let out a huff at that. 

“Don’t take offense,” Jim smiled. “Only a saying, and the only cat to get killed was myself. You’re such a quiet man, I cannot believe you come from a family that loud...” 

“That’s the holiday version of them,” you said. “Normally, it’s one person says something to upset everyone else at the gathering, then everyone else just stews until finally people start going home.” 

“How utterly miserable,” Freddie remarked. “What a delightful time that must be for everyone.” 

“Only the best time,” you replied. “Which makes me all the more grateful for this. I can’t think of a time when I ever anticipated I’d have this, honestly. A stable relationship with two wonderful men-” 

“Hush,” Freddie smiled, and Jim’s hand was warm on your shoulder. 

“And holiday celebrations that I didn’t have to stress out over and spend months fearing,” you continued. “It’s perfect, this. It really is.” 

“We’ll make it a tradition then,” Jim said. “A few days before, you get your quiet Christmas. No stress, nothing to worry about, just us.” 

“And the cats,” Freddie noted, giggling as Lily climbed onto the couch, then onto your lap, before you could get out of Freddie’s. 

“As it should be,” you said. “Should we let them open gifts first?” 

“You say that as if they have more to open than we do,” Freddie smirked.

“They do, don’t they?” you asked. “I mean, you bought them things, I bought them things, Jim also bought them something, Phoebe and the lads bought them toys and food and-” 

“Alright, alright,” Freddie interrupted with a happy sigh. “Let them at it all first.” 

You carried Lily with you as you brought the many presents out for them, all wrapped easily enough to be opened by a persistent (or somewhat interested, at least) cat, then set her down and let them have at it. 

That was the moment, you decided as you settled back on the couch in between Freddie and Jim, that if you could have, you would have bottled it up like a favorite cologne.  

Warm and safe and comfortable with your husbands (official to the three of you, even if not to the law), in a home where you were loved and cared for, with nothing more to worry about than making sure you didn’t fall asleep on the couch before all the gifts were opened. 

[castielsshield]

Voicemail

Title: Voicemail (Leave A Message Part 1)

Pairing: Female OC/Sam Winchester

Synopsis: After losing Jess, Sam continues to leave messages on her phone as a coping mechanism. Unbeknownst to Sam, that number has been adopted by another person.

Word Count: 1,375

Warnings: None

Part 2 || Masterpost

— • —

     I was fifteen when I finally got my first phone. I remember the exact date it happened too: November 24th, 2005. My father took me to the electronic store where I picked out and bought a phone. It was a simple flip phone, but I was glad to have it nonetheless. I didn’t have any friends, and my mother had died when she gave birth to me, so I assumed the only calls I would be receiving would be from my father. He was often out of town for business, so he began calling me every day. For the first week or so, that was how it worked.

     My dad left the day after I got my phone and set it up. He would call me twice a day to check up on me and let me know what chores needed to get done that day. On the seventh morning after my dad left, he called me earlier than usual. “Hey, Ash! How’re you doing? It’s good to hear your voice again.”

     Chuckling, I replied with, “Hello, dad. I’m doing pretty well. I got done with my morning exercise, so I’m a little bit tired right now. Otherwise, everything is fine.”

     “Alright, kiddo. You don’t need to do much today, the regular stuff. Sweep, wipe down the counters, and clean up whatever dishes you use. Also, I’m not going to be able to get home tonight. Something came up in the job I’m working on right now. It’s most likely going to hold me back for another week or so.”

     “Alright, dad.” Disappointed about not being able to see him as soon as I had hoped, my voice dropped into a somber tone. “I’ll see you in a few days. I love you.”

     “I love you, too, darling. I’ll talk to you later. Bye now.”

      “Talk to you later. Bye, dad.” I ended the call and slipped my phone into the back pocket of my sweatpants. Looking around the living room that I was currently standing in, I sighed. Deciding it would be in my best interest to start the chores, I retrieved the broom from the closet and got to work.

     Old rock music blared through my headphones as I completed my tasks. Most people find my taste in music as odd, but 80's music was much better than the modern crap.

     Once finished with all the assigned chores, I decided to clean the whole house. I dusted the furniture and the blinds, the cabinets and the TV. Vacuuming over every inch of the floor, I made sure there wasn't a speck of dust on the hardwood. The only place I didn’t clean was the office that my father had told me to always stay away from. When asked why I couldn’t go in, he said to me that there were important business things in there. He said that his company told him not to share it with anyone.

      “Sorry, honey. If I could share those things with you, I would. But it could get both of us hurt. We could get in a lot of trouble if you knew what was in there,” is what he told me. I never asked him about it again. He wasn’t the type of person to change his mind, so I figured the answer would always be the same.

      With nothing to fill the next couple of hours of boredom, I decided to create my entertainment. The first thing I did was I got my online school work done for the day. As for the rest of the time, I spent most of it either drawing in my sketchbook or reading from my latest chapter book.

      When I finally got tired of reading and ran out of ideas to draw, it was half-past noon. Deciding to make myself something for lunch, I headed for the kitchen. My dad always stocked up food before he left, so I wouldn’t have to bike to the store to buy extra supplies.

      As I opened the fridge, a shiver ran up my spine as my skin gripped the cold metal. I pulled out the package of pepper jack cheese, tossing it on the counter after. Planning on making a grilled cheese sandwich, I strode to the pantry to retrieve the bread. After snatching the loaf of bread off of the shelf, the song Cherry Pie by Warrant began playing out of my phone. I would have smiled at the old song coming through my phone if it wasn't for the confusion running through my veins.

     ‘That can't be my dad. He called me only a few hours ago. Maybe he forgot another chore I need to do.’ I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at the caller ID. It wasn’t my dad. Instead, it was a number that I didn’t recognize.

     Shrugging, I placed my phone on the counter, letting whoever was calling go to voicemail. I continued making my lunch for the day. As I was setting my untoasted sandwich into the skillet I had heated up, my phone let out a ping.

      I hadn’t heard my phone make that sound before, so I put my sandwich in the skillet and went over to see what the noise meant. When I flipped the phone open, the screen lit up, revealing the words ‘1 New Voicemail’.

     ‘What if it is something important, after all?’

      Clicking on the voicemail notification, I put the phone to my ear. I had been expecting to hear a regular voice, likely the voice of my father. What I never expected was the quiet sound of a young man in tears.

      Confusion overtook my mind as the man continued to cry for the next minute or so. Then, he began to speak. “Jess, babe, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that- that you- you’re-.” The man’s voice cut off as he got hit with another wave of tears. He sniffed and then began talking through his sobs again. “I love you, babe. I have to go now. Dean is coming out of the shower. I love you so damn much. I wish I were with you right now. I’m going to find the thing that took you from me. I’m going with Dean to find it. I wish I had never left to go on that stupid hunting trip with Dean.” He sucked in a breath, trying to calm himself down. Beginning to sob once more, he was able to choke out one final sentence. “I’ll call you again later. I love you, Jess.”

      The voicemail ended, and the phone gave me the option to either delete the message or keep it. I went to press delete, but then I thought back to the one-sided conversation sent to my phone. This man had lost somebody meaningful to him. He was still calling her number, leaving her messages of him sobbing. He was apologizing for something.

      I clicked down and pressed the save button. ‘He deserves to have somebody listen. I may not know him in any way, but he was hiding his messages from someone named Dean, with whom he was traveling. Someone needs to hear him; someone needs to care. If I’m the one who’s getting the messages, then I’m the person who needs to care.’

      I flipped my phone shut and set it down on the counter. As I turned around to tend to my sandwich, my eyes met the sight of smoke. It was from my grilled cheese, which was now entirely burned. ‘I’m not hungry anymore.’

      I threw it out and went to sit down on the couch, thinking about the voicemail, wondering if I could help. ‘I’ll let the man keep leaving messages. If he’s experiencing so much pain over this girl, he deserves to be able to feel like he’s talking to her.’

      My eyes fluttered shut shortly afterward, restless sleep overtaking my mind. Though I knew nothing about the other man, his words haunted my dreams. While I slept, my brain raced with scenarios of how the mystery boy could have lost the girl he loved so much. It might have been an accident. It might have been suicide. But whatever it was, I'll likely never know.

[horansqueen]

AM Conversations : chapter 40

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34 || CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.1k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- if you want to be notified when this is updated, please message me or leave a comment!

- you can send me questions and theories and comments. tbh they all make me SO SO SO SOOOO HAPPY! and make me want to write more! you can also tell me if there are things you WANT to happen. you never know, i may add it :P

- note for this chapter: sorry? it had to happen. its not that bad yea?

btw, i forgot to add a request that i filled last chapter so i just added the screenshot to the last chapter. so to whoever requested them to look at old pictures together, obviously it was in chapter 39 and it was for you :)

oh and no request for this chapter, probably next one! :(

Chapter 40 : His chapter

NIALL

I was surprised to see her already awake when my alarm rang in the morning but I understood exactly why when I finally sat in bed after everything was ready. She was shaking one of her legs, looking nervously around the room and although I felt a bit bad for her, the whole scene was a bit funny too.

"Darling, come here."

Her eyes finally met mine and I sent her a smile, raising my eyebrows to incite her to get closer. She finally took the few steps that separated us and I pulled her between my legs, slipping my hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she looked down at me. She stared in my eyes and sighed and my gaze dropped to her lips when she licked them.

"A penny for your thoughts?" I asked in a low tone, tilting my chin up to look at her better.

"You've got all the money in the world, you could at least offer me a bit more I mean, a penny?"

Her lips curled and it made me laugh as I pulled her closer. Her hands slipped in my hair  and I let out a low sigh.

"I know it's not easy, and i'm gonna miss you every second of every minute of every hour of every day." I let out, making her roll her eyes with a small smile. "But hey, we'll facetime every night and i'll text you and send you pictures... okay?"

Slowly, she nodded and tilted her head as her hair fell around our faces, hiding us from the world. I was torn between being excited and happy for the trip or sad and nervous about leaving her behind and somehow, all these emotions made a weird mix, forming a lump in my throat.

"Do you promise..." she started so low I barely heard, letting her fingers brush down my cheek, jaw and neck before grabbing the collar of my shirt. "...to be faithful to me?"

I hadn't expected the question and I moved my upper body back a bit to see her better as my eyebrows raised. I could hear my heartbeats accelerate but I wasn't sure why. Was I hurt by her question, or did it make me mad that she could think that of me?

"I.. hate this question, but i'm gonna answer anyway." Her eyes finally met mine and I could read in them that she felt bad for asking, but that it was stronger than her. I felt my body relax a bit and sighed. "I promise. You're the only one for me, and i'm not going to cheat on you. Physically or emotionally."

Her lips curled more and it made me smile too. I tried to tell myself that she was insecure and that it's why she needed to hear these things a lot, but I couldn't help the feeling of annoyance creeping inside my stomach. i tried to ignore it, if only because I wanted our last moments together to be happy, and shrugged my shoulders slightly.

"Are you coming with me to the airport?"

Her eyes dropped to her hands now both playing with the collar of my shirt and she started nibbling her bottom lip. She looked vulnerable, sad, and slightly embarrassed but the first thing I ended up thinking as i looked at her was how much I loved her.

"I'd rather not." she finally admitted, shrugging a shoulder. "I know i'd be emotional and I don,t want to cry in front of everyone and your fans and paps if they end up being there. And I don't want to drive back home by myself, I know i'll be crying the whole time."

I waited for her eyes to finally meet mine but it didn't happen.

"Hey." I let out gently. "I understand."

Her gaze finally moved up to meet mine and she mouthed a 'thank you'. I had the feeling she was on the verge of tears and I finally got up, keeping my arms around her and bending down to kiss her lips.

"How long do we have left?" she asked in a whisper, her lips brushing against mine.

"Like, 15 minutes." I let out low too, walking slowly her way and forcing her to take a few steps back until her back leaned on the wall. "They're about to pick me up."

"And you've got everything ready?" she asked, tilting her chin up to send me a cheeky smile.

I smirked back and chuckled, bringing both of my hands to the button of her jeans while still staring in her eyes.

"Almost." I joked, bringing my lips back on hers to kiss her deeply as I moved her pants down.

She whimpered low against my lips and squirmed a bit, finally taking her jeans and panties off and pushing them away with one of her feet. I laughed against her mouth as she pulled on my shorts too, leaving them right under my ass and when she took my cock out, I groaned low, my lips leaving hers. I leaned my forehead against hers and stared at her as I grabbed one of her thighs to place it around my waist.

"13 minutes." she joked, making me smile again. "Please do it."

I felt the tip of my dick press against her pussy and I watched her lick her fingers and bring her hand between us. Quickly, she rubbed herself and grabbed my dick, jerking me off slowly with her wet hand and I felt my eyes flutter a bit at her touch. It made me realize I was going to miss this more than I thought I would. The sex was good with her and I always wanted more. Being without her for six weeks wasn't going to be easy. She placed two of her fingers on each side of my cock as I pushed it slowly inside her and it felt so good to be inside her again that I let out a moan, pushing her hard against the wall.

"You feel amazing."

My lips found hers and I kissed her gently, feeling her fingers slip softly in my hair. I groaned low in her mouth and when she mentioned '11 minutes' I chuckled through the kiss. I moved my cock out of her very slowly and pushed it back, feeling her body tense a bit but it only took me a few seconds to speed my thrusts, pressing her more against the wall every time. I leaned my forehead against hers again and watched hr lips part as she started panting lowl.

"I love you so fucking much."

I saw her eyes flutter open at my words and her grip tightened in my hair.

"You mean so much to me." I added just as low. "I love you so much, Olivia."

Her lips found mine again and the kiss was so rough that my thrusts became unsteady. She kept her hands in my hair when our lips parted and I felt myself getting closer and closer to my orgasm.

"I love you too Niall." she whimpered very low. "More than anything and anyone."

I felt myself get dizzy and she started moaning and shaking against me. I fucked her harder to reach my own orgasm and when I did, I felt the fingers of one of my hands curl against the wall behind her while the others sunk in the skin of her thigh that was still around my waist.

"Fuck."

I spilled inside her, shutting my eyes tight as her hands slid on my neck and chest, I waited until my heartbeats came back to a normal speed and opened my eyes only to see her smile at me.

"I'm gonna think about this every single night."

My eyes roamed on her face and I smiled fondly at her.

"Me too."

I don't know how long we stared at each other but from seeing her face, I knew that telling her how much I loved her while we were having sex was a good idea. It was not even planned, I just felt it and decided to say it and I never thought the result would be so good. I heard my phone and sighed without moving. It's only when I heard it a second time that I moved away from her. I stared at her half-naked body as I moved my shorts back up and passed my hand in my hair. She quickly put her panties back on and I finally took my shirt off, handing it to her. Her lips curled and she grabbed it, tilting her head as she stared at me.

"I know that's your kind of cheesy." I explained, chuckling a bit. "I hope it doesn't smell too bad."

She brought it to her face and smiled, shaking her head.

"I sort of kept your hoodie from last night, too." she admitted, biting her bottom lip and making me laugh this time.

"It's all yours."

I grabbed my phone and read my text messages before looking up at her. She hadn't moved, she was still leaning against the wall, her head tilted lightly, looking at me, and I smiled more, moving my phone to snap a picture of her. Her eyes got bigger and her lips parted as I put my phone back in my pocket.

"Oh god you didn't take a picture of me did you?"

I laughed again and grabbed my backpack but when I turned around, she was trying to take my phone, probably to delete it.

"Love, stop!" I said with an other chuckle, grabbing her hand gently. "I promise I won't show it to anyone! It's only for me.. for all those nights without you."

Her traits softened and although I knew she didn't like it at all, she nodded slowly. I cupped her face with both my hands and kissed her deeply, ignoring the sound of my phone again.

"Six weeks is barely anything." I whispered against her mouth.

"An eternity without you." she murmured. "I'll miss you."

"Not as much as I'll miss you."

                                                   ----

The ride to the airport and the process of getting aboard was long and painful and it's only when the plane took off that I finally seemed to relax. I leaned my head on the bench, feeling suddenly exhausted and closed my eyes for a while. I tried not to think about her and to focus on every place I wanted to see but it was not easy and I grabbed my phone to look at the last picture of her I had taken. Once again, she looked slightly vulnerable and it made me realize that she always turned me on when she looked like that. I ran my thumb on her over the screen of my phone and sighed, closing my eyes again for a few seconds. Did I make the right choice? Maybe I should have postponed that trip after all, right?

I jumped slightly when I received a message and opened the application on my phone only to see a selfie of my girlfriend making a grimace with the caption: 'Don't worry, i'm fine without you!' and it made me laugh. I saw she was typing and waiting until more words appeared, staring at my phone.

'Don't worry. Just have fun. I'll be there when you call. I'll be there when you come back. I love you.'

I smiled more and chuckled again, quickly typing an answer.

'You're perfect, I love you too.'

I quickly took a selfie of me blowing her a kiss and sent it to her. She answered me with a few emojis and I did the same before to switch to Louis' number. At first, I wanted to ask Harry but I realized that maybe I was a bit jealous of the relationship she had with him... or maybe I was scared that if they spent more time together, she'd forget about me and fall back for him. It was ridiculous and deep down, I knew it, but I didn't want to take the chance.

'Hey Tommo, would you and El mind checking on Liv while i'm gone?'

I was surprised to get his answer only a few seconds later and frowned a bit.

'I don't know about El but i'll entertain her, don't worry mate.'

'Is everything okay?'

'Don't worry about it, just enjoy your trip!'

I shrugged and sighed, closing the application and going back to my gallery. I started checking all the pictures of her and us on my phone and my heart twisted in my chest until I just turned my phone off and put it back in my pockets. My fingers brushed against the fabric of her panties that was hidden in the pocket of my shorts and this time, my heart literally skipped a beat. I wanted to put them in my bag but I forgot and it made me wonder if she knew I had kept them after making her cum with the vibrator I had bought for her. I knew I should have asked her before taking them but it was stronger than me and finally, I pushed them deeper in my pocket to make sure I wouldn't lose them.

I tried to sleep for a while but every single time I was about to fall asleep, an idea would pop in my head and i'd quickly grab my phone again to write a few lyrics or hum a few notes that I'd record. I always seemed to feel inspired by something and even if I had promised myself that I'd do nothing but enjoy this trip, I knew I had to write down all my ideas or i'd end up regretting it.

I was trying to get distracted from her and from the hole in my chest that her absence had seemed to dig but it was not easy. I said six weeks were going to go by very fast, she said it was going to feel like an eternity... and if I wanted to be honest, I was started to believe she may be right.

                                                           ----

"Niall! Let's go!"

I tried to read the text message I had received as we walked through the crowded but small town. It was pouring, I was only wearing shorts and shoes, but I was still heavily sweating. I hadn't seem Olivia face to face in three weeks and although it was tough to be without her, I was starting to feel at ease with my decision. This trip was even more incredible than I thought even if I had to stay in crappy motels and eat cheap food. It was an experience I really had to live at least once in my life.

'I miss you too' I quickly typed with at least one mistake before hitting 'send'.

We walked in a motel and I let my backpack fall on the floor, shaking my head slightly as some water fell into my eyes and finally put my cap back on.

"Okay, let's go get a few drinks."

"Amazing idea." I replied, searching through my stuff to find a shirt. just as my phone went off again.  "Fuck, I forgot, I have a facetime date tonight."

One of my cousins chuckled but I ignored it and just grabbed my phone, typing an other message quickly to my girlfriend.

'We're going out. Rain check?'

I didn't wait for an answer but still decided to bring my phone with me. We ended up drinking a few beers and meeting new people. It was fun, I was getting tipsy, and I started a conversation with the pretty girl sitting next to me. It took me about an hour to realize she was flirting with me but when she laughed, putting her hand on my thigh, I tensed. She moved her thick dark hair behind her ear and tilted her head with a smile, making me smile back. I liked her accent and her eyes and I was about to tell her about it when my phone rang. I saw Liv's face on the screen and immediately sobered up. I had changed her picture for the one she had sent me when I was on the plane and the way she grimaced on it made my heart skip a beat.

"I'm sorry." I told the pretty girl whom's name I couldn't seem to remember. "I have to answer."

I got up and walked out of the bar, letting out a 'hello?' in my phone. I brought my shoulders up when I realized it was still raining as water slipped inside my shirt, freezing me immediately despite the warm weather and the amount of alcohol in my blood.

"Oh shit, Niall?"

Her voice calmed me immediately and I smiled. I wanted to be mad that I was taken, I wanted to be annoyed with the fact that I was living the trip of a lifetime and that I couldn't sleep with a girl I just met in a bar, but as soon as her voice reached my ears, it seemed to reach my heart too. It was cheesy but I like it and I tried to take a mental note of these words to use them later.

"Olivia, are you okay?"

"I'm so sorry, I wanted to text you but my fingers slipped." she explained. "I'm having a hard time with this new phone."

I frowned, trying to stay under the small roof of the bar as people walked in and out. My shirt was already soaked and my hair was no better but I just wanted to listen to her some more.

"I didn't want to bother you, I know you're having fun, we can talk tomorrow." she quickly said. "I love you, Nee, goodnight."

"No wait!"

I had talked a bit louder than I intended and I felt something stir in my stomach. I didn't know if it was just because I missed her, or because I felt guilty for the thoughts that ran in my head only a few minutes ago when i was with an other girl, but I suddenly wanted to take a plane back home to be with her.

"I shouldn't have canceled our date, i'm going back to the motel now, I'll call you as soon as I get there."

Without thinking, I walked out in the rain quickly, my phone still pressed on my ear. The weather wasn't as bad as a few hours before but my shoes were still drenched and it made a weird sound as I walked.

"No, Niall it's okay!" she argued with a small chuckle. "I'm fine, really, you can't spend all the time talking to me, you have to visit and have fun. I'm fine here without you, remember? Or do I have to send you an other picture?"

She started laughing and my heart jumped on my chest.

"Send me as many pictures as you want. I miss your face."

This time, she kept quiet for a few seconds and when she talked again, I could hear worry in her tone.

"Are you sure, Niall? Are you sure you want us to talk tonight?"

I stopped waking, just feeling the rain fall in my eyes, trying to stop my heart from beating so fast.

"Yes."

                                                  ----

It took me about half an hour to get back to the hotel and as soon as I arrived, I texted my cousin to tell them I was gone and that i'd see them in the morning. I took a quick shower, not really enjoying the bathroom but it was better than being dirty, and finally sat in bed with my phone in hands. It took her a few seconds to answer and I realized she was on her laptop. She sent me a smile as soon as she saw me and licked her lips, bringing her shoulders closer to her face.

"Hey..."

"Hey petal, how are you?"

Her eyebrows raised and her lips curled slightly more. Fuck, I wanted to kiss her.

"I'm the one who should ask you that." she pointed out. "Are you okay, Nee?"

My eyes roamed on her face and I noticed she was wearing my hoodie. The sleeves were pulled over her hands and I desperately wanted to cuddle her.

"Yea, was just missing you."

She was about to answer something when I saw someone in the corner of the screen, making me frown. I sat up better in bed and tried to see who it was, and it suddenly hit me: she was not at my house, and also not at her apartment.

"Where are you?"

As if on cue, Louis appeared and sat next to her, handing her a cup of tea. She took a quick sip and thanked him, sending him a smile. I watched them interact and my heart seemed to sink in my chest.

"I'm at Louis'." she finally let out as if it wasn't obvious already.

"Is that why you didn't want to talk?"

"I wanted to talk, Niall." she frowned slightly. "I just didn't want to bother you. We don't talk as much these days and it's okay, I know you're busy and you're having the time of your life, and I don't want you to think i'm smothering you or stopping you from living this plenty."

My anger and jealousy faltered and my traits softened as I nodded.

"Can you go back home? I'd like to talk with just you."

I knew I had no right to ask her that and I was also aware that I was the one who had asked Louis to check on her but it seemed like I was just realizing that the world was still turning there, in London, without me.

Olivia glanced at Louis who sent her a smile and started nibbling her bottom lip.

"We sort-of had something planned..."

"No it's okay Livi, I totally get it."

She finally looked back at me after a few seconds and quickly nodded, her lips curling into a big smile this time, making me believe she wanted to talk to me as much as I wanted to talk to her.

"Okay, let me call you back when i'm home."

She blew me a kiss and without giving me time to answer, she hung up. I stayed in bed, motionless, realizing that I was alone in the dark in an other country and somehow, I felt extremely pathetic at that moment. I thought about the girl I was flirting with, I thought about the fact that I wanted to kiss her and maybe more, and even if that thought had crossed my mind only for half a second, I felt like shit. It was not Olivia's fault that I was here, or that I hadn't had sex in three weeks. It was my decision and she didn't have to pay for that. I had never felt that guilty before when in a relationship and it's not like it was not normal to lust other people but for some reason, I was scared that if I could have these thoughts, perhaps she could too. She was not spending her time all alone locked in my room, waiting for me to come back, and for some weird reason, it was just hitting me now.

I don't know how long I waited but I decided to call back again, even if it meant that I would look desperate. In fact, I sort of was.

"Babe, i'm in the car." she pointed out. "I'm almost there."

She had put her phone near the dash and I could see her hands moving on the wheel. She was not looking at me but I was staring at her and even from that weird angle, she looked pretty.

"Do you know what I want to do to you?"

Her face changed and she glanced at me but I could swear I saw her cheeks turn a soft shade of red, making me smirk.

"I really want to fuck you, pet." I added low. "I want to make love to you. I want to feel your warm body beneath mine. I miss you so bad."

She chuckled. "Me or fucking me?"

"Can't it be both?" I asked, raising my eyebrows, a smirk still gracing my face.

"It can."

I watched her and kept silent as she parked the car and turned to look at me in the screen of her phone, her head slightly tilted and her hair falling on her right shoulder, exactly like the picture I had taken of her before I left.

"I miss you too, Niall." she whispered, making my heart twist. "I wish you were here."

[just-some-random-blogger]

December Dates

Seventeen Summary: In the spirit of Christmas, boyfriend!svt is here to take you on a date. Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: Fluff, crackkkkkk, v many typos,etc.

R E Q U E S T

my friend: seventeen + cute

A/N: HO HO HO MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU HOS (jk) HAHAHAHAHAHHA. Also ashdiepl because im writing on a tab, i couldnt add any gifs so aksjemksksmsksksmskskdk alsO im so sorry i dont remember if the request is platonic or nah but kaksksksk this is what u get soz

-----

Alright

So no gifs

Imma just do a header real quick so u know wassap

S. Coups

Das better

hi header

I might delete u later if i get on a pc

But firsT seuNgcheEolL

*deep breath*

Ho u lucky enough to breath the same air he does

N now u are on aa date with him

WoWw

So bf!seungcheol is a cute lil snowflake

Which means he'll buy u an ugly ass Christmas sweater and matching gloves

THAT MATCHES THE ONES HE BOUGHT FOR HIMSELF OFC

then yall go out and play in the powdery snow outside

ImGine seungcheol grabbing yOuR hand 

cebAuse u a dumb loser that slips on nothing

Also warmth

pulling your scarf up a bit because he can tell you're getting cold

Then like a gentleman

will pUSH U INTO THE SNOW

AND START A FRICKIN SNOW WAR

HE'll hit ur dumb face he dont care

He'll maKe u wish u Stayed damn home

Rapid fire frikin snow granades man

Course iz all a bita fun

Then he'll let u win

Cause he does care Bout ur dumb Fce

Also he soft for u gross

Then once that's done he'll start laughing

Not because of post-snow ball fight adrenaline

But because he thinks himself so funny

When he busts a lung screaming "dO Ya wana biLd aSNOEMAN!!!!!"

AND THEN U decline and leave him in the snow

"YAAAAA WE HAVE TO BUILD A SNOWMAN THOUGH!" he'll laugh

U literally wana leave him and his annoying ass

U stomp away

He laughs and goes after u

His hot breath is visible 

and hits your ear when he comes up and wraps his arms around you from behind

U be like, "listen stupid, u corny af, lets break up"

Seungcheol would pout and kiss ur cheek, "nah, u still owe me hot choco. Break up with me after paying me back."

"Ew, why would i pay u back tho"

"Uh cause if you don't imma do thisss," then he proceeds to shove u into the snow again

"CHOI. SEUNG. CHEEOOOLLLLLLLLLLALAKAKAOKS!"

Ok well i have to cut this here first cos there are 12 boys left

Oh Hi hello u here back to ur regular programme

Jeonghan

Yiz

Unlike cheol

Dis ho not about to get cold 4 u uhm

Leave the cold for someone else

But get warm together

I mean

Wink wINKkkkk

Jk gtfo

This is a wholesome headcanon

Git warm he would gladly

So u know what dat means

CUddlEs

Imagine cuddling jeonghan

BoIii

It's da holidays

Which mean he bout to get dat $$$leep

Of course u dont mind that ur just sleeping in

Gurl if ya do

Let me stress out

If you mind sleeping in and cuddling with yoon jeong han

GUrL

Wathu doin????

AnYWAY

ITz u and him right

Ur in bed reading the novel he got u beforehand right

Look at u looking cute in knit sweater and glasses

EVEN IF U DONT NEED THEM THERE ARE GLZSSES

IM TRYING TO MAKE A SCENE HERE WORK WITH ME

it could be jeonghan's ur using it as a headband shhhh

So like ur sitting down

N beside u its jeonhan v slightly snoring

Right right right

Then ur like "man i want something to eat cause i've been sitting here reading all day"

But also ur always hungry

Cause who isnt tho lol

ANYWAY UR ABOUT TO STZND UP

but jeonghan like a needy ho is like noooooooooooodontgo

N ur like

aww wat a needy ho

"Jeonghan im just gonna get something to eat"

"Eat laterrr, i need u now"

He'll keep his eyes shut and shimmy over

Securing an arm on your  hip so u wont go

U roll ur eyes and put your book away on the cabinet next u

"Jeonghan ive literally been next to u since last night. I'm just gonna get something to eat, and 4 u 2!"

He'll flutter his eyes open only to close them and move even closer to place his head on ur lap

"I dont want toooooo"

U roll ur eyes again and shimmy out of his grip

But only to get into his arms and hide your face in his chest

"You're so needy," u note

"Says you who's tangling themselves on me"

"Touché"

Joshua

Okay

Get this

Joshua and gingerbread houses

He probably used to build one growing up

And he has just the person in mind he wants to rekindle the tradition with

Congrats u filthy animal

So he took the liberty of getting allll u and he would need

And so much more

Im talking chocolate bars

Shipped cream

Candy canes

Busicuits

Edible glitter

Gum drops

Shrek 1 2 3 4

Is there a four

Im too lazy to google it

And omg u so special to him he loves u so much

Screw u

He wants to share the love with the carats

So he vlives it all

And at first ur shy

Like what if the joshua stans come 4 u

Ok but in this story yall had already annouce ur relationship

AND EVERYONE HAS NO CHOICE BUT TO BE COOL WITH IT FFS LET UR FAVES DATE WHOEVER THEY WANT ISTG

so

Joshua is like "noo don be shy they'll all love u"

(':

N ur like ok cos i love u sm

But not like the company sm tho *barfing noises*

So yall build a gingerbread house and do a whole ass tutorial about it

Except u dont

Cause yal are morons and could stop messing up or earing the ingredients along the way

Sorry honey ur morons i dont make the rules

"Stop eating the marshmallows!"

"U literally finished the bowl of mnms tho Joshua!"

"Uh no that was the gingerbread man,"

ANd then u all bicker like children because u are omfl

And it excalates

fooD FIGHT

U smear cream on joshuas face

He sprinkles sprinkles on ur head

U press graham crackers against either of his cheeks and ask him what he is

"A sexy graham sandwich"

"Ew no wrong answer," u reply

Can i just point out that that chocolate syrup stain is never coming off

*cough cough cough moron cough cough*

Jun

Imma bout to yeet

Junhui is also feeling nostalic

super soft super baby

And since he's probably feeling bit homesick somewhere in there

he thinks he can remedy it with a bit of chinese home cooking!!!

And whiney needy cuddles also yay

Moving on so

Will it be good?

Damn straight

itll be fikin delish

Will you try to to help him

Of course u gotta help ur man

But like duh

u have eyes

And seeing him all focus and busy and hot

Is really distracting

So like ur as useful as a broken button to him

He doesnt mind tho

He thinks ur cute

Also lovng the attnstion

But the thing about not helping

Not really

And being distracted by a cutie pie

Is that it's basicaly a disaster ending to happen so like

he's efficiently stirring up so hot stuff right

And ur like "man jun's some hot stuff"

And then BaaaaM

U knock over the damn chopping board with the knife and everything on it

Thank goodness the thing didn't chop through your foot of anything

And jun is like "oHMYGOSH DA HELL R U OK"

"... i- im sorry i knocked over ur potatoes"

"My poTaToeS! Listen rn im glad u didnt chop ur foot off"

Jun sighs and looks at the cubes of taters scattered on the floor

You frown, feeling useless

Both of u pick up ur mess

Jun puts down the kitchen utensils in hand

u picked up the last of the potatoes

"Hey we could always wash those, it's not like the floor is mud or anything, even then , potates came from mud"

"Yeah but im sorry, i wanst really helping in the first place"

Jun smirks, "nonsense! U were feeding my ego! That's enough for me!"

You snort and jun comforts u with a tight embrace

Hoshi

AlrighT fam

I thought of something pretty cute but pretty dumb for hoshi

He's like "imma do something super romantic for Christmas"

So he's like "wear something cute we gon do smth fun" @ u

So u do

U get a cute little red dress just for the occasion

And soonyoung his like "BRO MY GIRL SO SUPER CUTE"

And ur like a blushing mess cause he looks super excited with his big smile and cresent eyss

ahhh Hhh myHOSishiii fealzssmsmmsms

Anyway u think ur gonna go to some cute restaurant right

But hoshi brings u to the mall

To instead join the couples dancing contest

Soonyoung gets super nervouse at ur surprised reaction

He's like, "omg is this a super bad idea i thought it would be cute but like i guess not we dont have to go we could always just drop out"

You laugh and shake ur head, "no it's all good, but i mean like, we don't have a choregraphy, and im not like you who can just break it down."

Soonyoung lets out a breath and chuckles, "nah don't worry. It's not really a compation-competion, and regardless, they're going to show ius a choreo and the couple that best interprets wins a a romantic date for two, fit for a dancing king and queen"

And then u break into a big uwu

"Omg u are super romantic soonyoung"

He struts a pose and chuckles, "i mean, i try"

So you both participate in the contenst

Kinda zumba it out by folling the instructors

Soonyoung is helping you out with your form and explaining to you the steps

He gets a little competative so he doesn't really want to mess us

Up hearing you giggle when you do a s pin breaks his competative spirit

And all he really cares about is having a good time with you

Aleight

But admitedly

He was pretty annoyed when they annouced the winner

Were not the two off you

i mean you lot were the cutest it can gt

Who else could trump that

But then you both saw that the winners were 80 something yesr olds holding hand and looking at each other like the other was their world

and then soonyoung was like "okay valid"

You pout, "aww i hope we end up like that"

Soonyound and you turn to each other

He grins for ear to ear, "then lets go on a romantic date as well"

"I thought you'd never ask"

Wonwoo

LiNda

I hope you're ready for wonwoo 

Because i sure as hell am not 

So in case youre wondering 

Youre crazy I mean youre reading this arent you 

Prolly at midnight hi fam 

Again i dont make the rules 

Well just a btw Almost every 

Christmas tradition is pagan 

Like the tree 

The wreath 

And SANTA IS SO CREEPY YALL NEED TO GET UR CHILDREN AWAY FROM HIM 

SO MAYbe ur not all that crazy 

For not wanting to continue them on 

i mean sure u can give new meaning to things 

But you wanted none of that

 Which was whyyyy you decided to DIY the decorations to your entire house 

Nnd who else are you going to do that with other than your loving bb boyfriend wonwoo 

Wonwoo doesn't mind 

He thinks its cute 

Because it is a cute date idea 

Youtube tutorials 

Pinterest ideas and paper snowflakes and all 

Yeah 

so wonwoo is there cutting up some of the paper you folded 

You're glueing some popsicle sticks 

He's water coloring some designs in 

Youre pulling on the tape dispenser 

It's all going great 

"Jagiya... i don't want to sound mean but-"

 "They're all ugly as hell. I know Wonwoo." 

Wonwoo gives an apologetic look. 

For a moment u two dont speak 

And then you both brust into laughter 

"Aww whatever, lez stick em on!" 

And do you get your badly painted slowflakes 

Your wolf drawing 

"That's a wolf?" 

"Duh what else would it be wonwoo?" 

The letters that spelled merry chrsitmas 

And the doodle cutouts of the seventeen members 

in personalized ugly sweaters 

And placed them all over the place 

You look around basking in the glory of ur craft 

Its all very colorful 

And crafty 

And looking like a child made it 

Then like an imbecile 

U break into laughter 

"It looks like a kindergartener's classroom" 

U end up roasting yourself 

Making fun of your sloppy handwork 

And wonwoo watches u 

with adoring eyes

 "I almost forgot," wonwoo speaks up and pulls out a piece of paper 

You recive it from him and break into a smile 

"Is this us?" 

Wonwoo snorts, "no its jeonghan hyung in a dress holding my hand sweetheart"

For a moment u believe him

But then he breaks out into laughter

Woozi

Boi imma fite u

Christmas carols

Okay idek why i ended up so serious with wonwoo

But listennup

Im not about to maypke it crackier

so back to christmas carols

Dis boi is about to serande you with a christmas themed love song

So its around 8pm at night

Jihoon has is guitar

and ur just chilling right

and ur on ur phone letting him do his thing

but then from the floor he was sat on

he turns to you on the couch

And pats ur leg

"Yo i just finished my song u wann hesr"

You squeak and jump of the couch next to him

"Duh dummy!"

And he starts singing

He's talking about stars and warmth

He's spittin fire about the smell of hot choco

The  he's talking sbout how lame joshua's gingerbread house was

Next thing you know ur  crying

because omg that ginger bread houseWAS UGLY

also jihoooooooooooooon just serenaded you

Dont u just

Then jihoon catches you and panicks

"You okay? Why are you cryin?!"

"HowDARS YOU ASK ME THAT LISTEN UP U JUST SAID SOME SWEET WORDS TAKE RESPONSIBILITY!!!!!!!"

JIHOON CALms down

But u crybaby cant stop crying

and of course jihoon panicks again

So he starts singing some other Christmas song

And then u start crying about poor rudolf

And remember regina george

But then eventually you calm down

And decide to nuzzle up against jihoon who replaced his guitar with you in his arms

Then us fall asleep with him sweetly singing about the spirit of Christmas

DK

 Liz gittit

Of course this ray of light just wants to give off energy to the world 

And since he 

And u u forgetful ass 

Forgot to go shopping for presents 

You decided to go on a dec 24th shopping trip! 

Hurrah! 

But it was too eady for u two 

Like wtf 

Gift giving Is suuch and easy task 

And shoping a day before Christmas 

pshhhhhhh 

Its a heartbeat

 "Whoever gets the best gifts gets for the best price gets to boss the other around until new year," seokmin grins 

You knit your brows deeply at his words 

And wonder what the hell he has in plan for him to think of doing something so ensnaring 

So being the smarter one in the relationship 

"Uh no??" 

Seokmin was like "ok then the other has to do whatever the other says for the entirety of Christmas" 

"???? Whyyyyy?" 

"Because its not challengeing or fun if there isn't any condition" "Ugh fine" 

So the two of you zip around looking for the best gifts you could get 

You try to stay away from the people doing their last minute shopping 

Seokmin doesnt dare go in between an old lady mouthing of another customer 

Tbh its super stressful 

wtf 

what kind of date is this 

Only morons would do this wtf 

Both of you got shoved constantly 

There wasnt really much space to move around 

And there wasnt really anything to choose from 

But hey guess what 

Seokmin found some really cool gifts 

"Daheck did u get that shirt?" 

"Isle five. There were a bunch of people grabbing some stuff and this fell to the ground and so i picked it up and thought it was pretty cool"

You on the other hand got like ok gifts 

I mean theyre not bad

 But da hell did dk get a frikin eeyore onesie idek 

It was no contest.  

Seokmin defo won 

"Yisss so i win therefor u have to make me some Christmas cookies tomorrow" 

"U ho did u really just make me suffer through that so you could ask me to make cookies 4 u???" 

"Yes but we really didn have gifts tho." 

U roll ur eyes 

Seokmin's face falls, "r... r u like mad @ me?" 

"Uhhhhhhhhhh" 

You knit your brows at him but release a smile when u see his nervous look 

"No babo. Im jusy tired, lezgo back home" 

He sighs and nods, kissing your cheeks 

"Dont worry baby, ill carry all of this back home" 

Which he does 

And when u get back 

He says he forgot something in the car

then comes bzck 

And then forcefully turns u around 

Ur about to protest

But the you realize he's putting on a silver necklace on u 

"Yahhhh seokminie, u shouldnt have. Where you even get this"

"I bought it a while back, duh" he chuckles then kisses you on the cheek 

"Merry christmas jagi" 

Mingyu  

You are a genius for getting boyfriend like mingyu 

uh and super lucky like fu-- 

BUT TODAY 

Ur extra glad that mingyu is 10ft tall 

Because ur going to be decorating your very own tree 

Wow 

You bought he prettiest glass ornamnets

 and the sparkliest streamers 

"I have a vision," u explain 

Mingyu nods in understanding 

U and him lift the tree into the living room 

And then u start decorating the tree from the bottom up 

Its all rly chill

 You lot are chatting about whatever 

He's tellling you about ur tour n stuff 

U put on some Christmas tunes for flare 

And then u stand up from the floor and boogey with each other 

Yall shake ur butts 

and go around the tree wrapping it in tinself 

Mingyu steals one of the ornaments from u

 and u try to take it back from him like the genius u are 

Except hes holding it over his head 

N u cant for the life of u reach his hand up there 

So u step on his foot 

And punch his stomach 

And he bends down in reaction 

In pain

Soz

He was asking for it

U steal the decor back 

Then he proceeds to chase u around because aparently ur the bully 

*instert pikachu meme here* 

N then u get back towork 

Or i mean take a break 

And u eat a bunch of holiday special junk 

And then u get back to work 

"ok nows for the star" 

U hand him the star because its the entire point of his existance

getting that star up ther 

with his longass arms 

He turns to u "u dont wanna put it" 

BOI 

u suck in a breath 

"I cant frIKICN REACH IT U LIL" 

He give a face, "there are ways" 

"My go-- just put the AHHHHHHH"

AND THEN THE NEXT THING U KNOW

 Hes crouching down pulling ur legs on his shoulders 

"MINGYU PUT ME DOWN" you say, about to rip of his face 

Mostly because u have nothi to hold onto

but he stands 

with u on his shoulders

and walks to the tree 

"Put the damn thing on before u fall!!" 

Wow its ur fault again

And screaming u put the star on 

And mingyu putz u down 

"Okay that was stressful" 

U punch him in the gut again 

The8  

Minghao is super tired 

But super looking forward to spending time with u 

So u defintely go on a date 

But its of the lazy movie watch variety

Im talking all the chesey romance movies 

Set in december 

that has like mistletoe kisses 

And snow scenes 

And also those holiday specials

 For catroons 

And non cartoons 

Even the one with arnold swartzimacallit 

You pull out the laptop 

And get on netflix 

There's popcorn on 

And hot tea 

Or whatever the hell 

Its all just very warm 

and u and minghao are wrapped together in a warm blanket 

Ur nestled in between is legs and ur super warm and cozy and im so soft bleh 

"Oh oh, u should see this part, its my fav--" 

But u stop uourself when u turn and see minghao fell asleep

 U coo and let him obvi 

taking unflattering pictures duh 

But also cute ones because 

#couplegoals 

He doesn't sleep through all the movies though 

You end up watching non christmas themed films too 

Like toy story4 

OKAY I CRIED AT THE ENDING 

PIXAR IS REALLY COMING FOR MY WIG 

"You look really cute cuddled up against me" he'll randomly blurt 

U feel ur cheeks brun at that 

but no he cant have that 

"I thought i was always cute" 

He chuckles and groans as he hugs u tightly 

U laugh at his reaction 

"Of course you're always cute" 

"Ok but the teddy bear u got me is actually cuter" 

"Nononono, the teddy is cute but uuu are cuter" 

"Were u always this gross?" 

Seungkwan 

Okay 

before u tell me these are getting worse and worse every passing member 

i would first like to say i know 

and  that seungkwan bought u a cute dress for Christmas 

and took u to a fancy restaurant 

Ok ur welcome 

But like even if it werent fancy 

U'd still like it 

cause holy guacamole 

imagine holding seungkwans hand as u walk around

Jsut being so head over heels

and super in love with the cutie

Groooossss 

LinDA 

The feeling is mutual for him when he's around u 

so he stops mid conversations 

just to take ur pic 

Its kinda annoyig 

but kinda cute 

"Hey unknow hansol told me about-- what are u doing"

 "No go on, im just talking ur picture"

 Literally the bst hype man alive 

Will make take dozen upon dozen photos of u 

And will make u pose for aethetics 

He will go on making sure everyone knows u da hottest ho in the place 

n ur like "seungkwan stfu u embarrassssing meee" 

And then oml  

Some moron tries to hit on u 

and seungkwan sqwares up ready to hit a fool 

would he actually do it i mean 

Like 

prolly Not 

but then again he looked really mad 

So u calm him down 

and u go bzck home 

And the cuddles 

"Baby girl im sorry if i embarrassed u"

 "Nah itz chill i mean i know u have good intentions"

U smile and he takes another candid phto of u

"Broooooo!!"

 "Im donnnr. Now hows about we get rid of that dress" 

Vernon  

okay im willing to guess hansol loves drinking hot chocolate in the winter

So he's like 

"Lets do a hot choco review" 

And buys 897 types of hot choco 

Or like ten 

wtf eight hundres pluss is too much 

So ur like okay i like hot choco 

and then he pulls out his phone and does a vlive 

"No i am not jealous of joshua hyungs vlive with his gf" 

Yall make like ten cups of hot choco 

and is chaotic 

Idek how u could get injured 

But hey 

It wasnt even the hot water invovled 

but the wrapping of the choco powder 

"Technical difficulties hansol is a big moron" 

U get him a bandaid

"Ya! I am not" 

Yall start reviewing anyway 

*insert try guys eugenes voice* 

Im rihght

 Ur wong 

Shut up 

After trying the first onw 

Ur like wow dis is good 

the second was even better 

The third one u hold

then u realized there were eight more cups 

And that u made so

much 

so u were like "omf there is too much "

then u debated whether or not calling seventeen to drink the rest 

But then hansol was like "ther isnt enough for themm"

Then ur like 

"okay whatabout making a super hotchoco" 

n vernon was like 

???? 

"THATS THE BEST IDEA UVE EVVER HAD" 

SO YALL GET A BIGASS POT 

MIX THE REST IN 

REALIZE U HAVENT RATED THE other cups

 Shrug it off 

and get a cup of the hot choco mix 

"Tastes like corn" 

"Bish dafaq" 

Dino 

Yikes 

so 

Chan is a dumb ho 

and got himself sick at Christmas so 

nononoono thats a no to any cute date ideas 

and its just you and him staying at home 

U personally dont mind 

but hes like "awww but i had so many ideas"

 but obvi U cant risk him getting any sicker than he already is 

So you stay home and take care of him 

and all he can do is complain about everything 

about the cold 

his runny nose 

The lack of taste of the food

 His head ache 

The fact his bed is hot 

And that fact that u have to take care of him 

And treat him like a baby 

"I am not a baby" 

"Listen up, u are always gonna be my baby" 

"Not u toooooo najsjsjjs" 

You make him some hot cocoa 

And hes like "im not drinking that if u call me baby again" 

"Babybabybabybabybaby" 

Ugghgg "If you keep doing that im not going to give u the gift i gotchu" 

"Well das on u" 

And then u end up going ona glaring contest 

Chan ends up giving it to u anyway 

"i hope u choke on it" he grumbles with insencerity 

U coo when u see that its a handwritten letter 

And then u end up crying because hes super soft

N ur super soft

And gahhh u love him so much

 Chan pats ur back because he doesnt want to get u sick if he hugs u  

U sniffle and wipe ur eyes 

"Who's the baby now, cry baby" 

You snarl and pinch his side 

And now i say

This was probably hecking bzd but i hope u enjoyed 

merry CHRISTMAS 

ITS MY FABORITE HOLiDAY 

TAKE CARE Of urselves mwaah

Support me on ko-fi

[moonfox281]

How about Jason deals with de-aged Dick? Dick's around 10-13? inside adult or completely as a kid is your decision ;)

I’m so sorry, I set him at 7 sth. But here you go.

When his men called saying Nightwing was compromised, Jason had the worst scenario in his mind. In this line of work, both vigilantism and transgression, “compromised” was a very terrifying term to describe a person’s status.

Yeah, one could say Jason’s imagination had gone quite colorful since marriage and having a stubborn, self-sacrificial hero as a husband. But at all might, Jason did not expect to see a tiny butt naked kid doing a double flip from his desk down to the leather couch in his office once he hit the base. His men stood around, mouths opened and terrified by what they just saw, hands ahead ready to catch the fall if one about to happen.  

“What the hell is going on?” Jason demanded.

“I can explain!” was what everyone in the room said at the same time. “Blue!” They yelled when the kid took a pillow on the couch and threw it at Jason.

“Blue?!” Jason howled, letting the pillow hit him.

After about 10 full minutes of his men rambling explanation, jumping into each others mouths and cursing under their breaths in various languages, Jason finally settled everything down with a nose pinch and a painful headache watching the kid‒no, his husband, his 8 years old version husband now wrapped in his jacket flipping the oversized sleeves around like a bird with a fat smile on his face.

A wizard, they said. An unexpected team up with Constantine, they said. The man just vanished, they said. The next thing Jason knew, he was already dialing for the damn British after demanding his contact from Bruce.

“Whoever the fuck you are, you pick a bloody time.”

“Bring my husband back now before I put a bounty on your head.”

There was a pause. Jason groaned and pulled out a pack of cigarette from the drawer until he saw Dick watching him with giant blue eyes from across the room, arms still flapping the sleeves up and down. He groaned again, and put the pack back to its place.

“Sorry, mate, already got some pretty good pennies for my head.” There was a pause again, this time shorter. “Oh hell, you’re the Red Hood, aren’t you?”

“The one and only. Now I want Nightwing back to normal.”

“Sorry, mate. No can’t do. You’re not the only one who wants the smoking bum back.” Jason growled. He had a feeling the man was fucking smiling on the other side of the line. “Party went all the pot. Your lovely hubby got smashed with a 150 years old spell of age reversal.”

“And you can’t undo it?”

“Give a tosh, will ya? I’ve just said it’s a 150 years old spell, top of the line, a bloody 1990 Chateau Margaux of dark quirk dictionary. I have “Master of dark arts” on the business card, not “Master of breaking dark arts”

Jason was getting tired of this shit. “You’re saying he’s gonna stay like this?”

“What if I’m saying exactly that?”

“Then smoke your last stick while you still can, master of dark arts.”

“Gee, you’re no fun. What that doll saw in you anyway. The spell wears off after two to three days. You can just‒”

Jason hung up. He got what he needed. The more time he spent off with the Brit, the more the headache was killing him. Jason turned on the chair to face with the reality of his current tiny squeezy husband.

Dick didn’t seem to remember shit, along with his body, his brain had come back to the years of his childhood too.

Dick’s private team was taking the tiny version of their Blue like a pack of house cat staring at a cucumber, circling around him on the couch like watching an alien.

“Do you recognize me, Blue?” Hank asked, hands out like trying to tame a wild beast.

“Idiot, he doesn’t know he’s Blue.” Jefferson spat. “Uh… Dick? Richard? Do you… do you want a candy?”

“Should we even give him a candy?”

Yep, everybody was totally freaking out. Despite everyone’s wrecked reaction, Trevor stood behind Jason’s back filming everything.

“You’re enjoying this.”

Trevor kept on his phone. “Do excuse me, Boss. Not every day I get to see Blue like this.”

“He’ll delete all of it, once he turns back to normal.”

“That is, if he finds out.”

Dick had somehow managed to climb up to Hank’s back, sit on the man’s shoulder and pull on his little bun of hair. He frowned tiny fat hands scrambled through the locks of Hank’s burnt orange hair like trying to dig something out of his head.

“Hank,” Jefferson turned. “Cut your hair.”

“The fuck!?”

“He doesn’t like it.”

“But…” Hank turned to Dick on his shoulder, looking with the desperation of a man before a cliff. “I’ve grown this out for years, Blue.”

Dick tilted his head, suddenly giggled out loud and yelled. “Viking!”

Okay, maybe he didn’t hate Hank’s hair in the end.

“Is Viking cool, buddy?”

“Viking cool!” Dick nodded enthusiastically.

Jason could literally see Hank’s chest puffed out a little.

“Hey, I’m cool too.” Bob jumped in front of Hank and grabbed his bear out. “Look, Viking’s beard.”

Dick made a face. Hank immediately pushed his teammate away. “Yo, you’re creeping him out. Cut your fucking beard, you look like a fucking hobo.”

“Oi, watch ya’ fuckin language.”

“Enough, nobody’s cutting their hair.” Jason groaned, turning on his chair. “Dick.” He called, patting his lap just when the toddle reached out to rub on Bob’ bald head. “Come here.”

Dick stared at him, cocked his head aside then suddenly jumped off Hank’s shoulder. Everybody yelped like teenage girls, Jefferson stood right by and caught his fall in time, and Dick seemed to expect it. He buried himself into the man’s neck, hiding from Jason.

Jefferson blushed violently. Jason’s eye twitched.  

“Dick, come on.” He got up from his seat. “Don’t you want to come home?”

That got Dick’s attention.

“Home?”

Goddamn, that squishy voice. It pierced Jason and pretty much everyone in the room right in the heart.

Dick poked his head out from Jefferson’s chest and yearned toward Jason, palms opened and closed. Jason definitely did not yell inside his head.

He got Dick into his arms, squeezing his button up with his tiny little hands. These days Jason occasionally have to wear suit to work and Dick would usually be the one who nagged his head off for staining blood on white shirts or wrinkling perfectly ironed suits. Guess he couldn’t blame Jason this time.

“Shall we go home?” He fastened Dick in his arms. God, he weighted practically nothing. Dick had always sported a lighter bodyweight than the rest of the family to support his flip and jump, but now, Jason could barely felt the little pounds in his hold.

“To the circus?” Dick chipped.

Ah right, the circus.

“No, Dickie. The circus has some business for a couple of days. Your pop and Haly asked me to take care of you until they’re done working. Can you be a good boy until they’re back?”

Dick pouted. Jason could see written clear on his face that Dick didn’t trust him.

Jason decided to switch to France. “Now the white melts away;”

Dick’s eyes glowed up. He jumped up and down in Jason’s arm. “Now the flowers bloom gray;”

“Come dear bird and build your nest,” Jason walked them down the elevator and to the garage.

“For we love our robin best.” Dick smacked a loud kiss onto his cheek and nuzzled Jason’s neck.

God bless his heart if this was how Dick expressed his affection when he was little.

They got down the garage with Dick hanging tight to his neck. Jason couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying this too much.

“So, little bird. Which car do you want?”

Dick peaked his head out, looking at him with full rounded eyes. “I can choose?”

“Of course, anything you want.” Jason always dropped a “baby” there. Well carved habit couldn’t be shaken off in one night.

He pointed toward the cars parked in the base and smiled down on Dick. “Which one do you like?”

There was a Ford Mustang Mach 1, the one Jason came here with, but he doubted he’d be coming back with it; a white GMC Savana in the corner, about two dozens of cabs, couples of trucks and 5 black Chevrolet Blazer. Couldn’t say the gang’s garage was colorful enough for a kid’s choice, but Jason was amazed when Dick’s little finger pointed toward one of the trucks.

“Really? Why not that one?” Jasone motioned toward the blue semi-truck in the corner. Not the prettiest choice, but Jason thought for a kid, appearance wouldn’t be the problem if the color was right.

“I thought you like blue?”

“No!” Dick chipped, jumped up and down. “I want big one.”

Right, he should have guessed.

“Sorry, we can’t go with that.”

Dick pouted, squeezed Jason’s shirt. He darted his eyes around, seemingly confused.

“Hey, how about this one.” Jason pointed toward the Rover Evoque in the middle of the room. “What do you think? It’s pretty big too.”

Dick stared at the car then back at the truck. It was clear as daylight he still wanted to go with the truck. But a good kid he was, he nodded and clung tight to Jason’s neck when he walked them toward the Rover.

Dick didn’t say anything when Jason fastened the seatbelt for him, just stared at every of his movement. Jason didn’t know to either turn on the news or switch on kid channel for him. Then it hit him, was he always this awkward when around kids?

He had never shut up about having kids before taking John in, and maybe even a few times after taking him in. Not that he rushed Dick, not that he was actually that needy for a toddler in the household. But the idea hit more than just a few times out of the blue, and considered the clumsy way he dealt with the situation right now, maybe Dick was right to never take Jason seriously.

As if sensed the tension on Jason’s shoulder, Dick touched his hand and squeezed the fingers. He stared, and all over again, Jason saw the sky and the sea in the ocean of his eyes.

“You have big hands.”

God, his accent was off, a sign that showed he was still getting used to using multiple languages at a time. This was strange, but Jason held back his hand.

“Is that so?”

Dick nodded his head, up and down until his hair mixed up and fell all over his face. It almost seemed like his head was too big for his tiny little body.

“You have a big inel.”

“Inel?”

Dick looked down and frowned, biting his lips and drowning in his thought. Suddenly, he jointed up. “Ring!” He yelped. “You have a big ring!”

Jason laughed again and motioned at his driving hand. “This one?” Dick nodded, head bobbed up and down again. “You have a bigger one though.”

Dick’s face brightened up. “Reallyyy?”

“Yeah.”

“Vreau sa vad!”

He pulled his lips together when realized what he had said, but his eyes stayed huge and earning they had Jason burst out laughing again. He must be really excited if his tongue slipped back to Romanian like this.

Jason pocketed his pants and pulled out Dick’s ring with the bracelet. Dick never wore it on his finger when out in the suit, he wore it on his neck. Dick received it with both hands and sparkling eyes, just as bright and beautiful as the stone on the ring.

“It’s so pretty!”  

“It’s yours. Always has been, always will be.”

Dick gasped out loud. He bounced in his seat, legs kicking all the way. He waited no time and put the necklace on while making tiny high pitch happy sounds.

Jason had had it coming that Dick probably was an innocent, restless kid back in the days but he had no idea, no idea his husband would be this lively, this energetic. He never stopped doing something, always moving. His body was these waves of the ocean, kept going and never halted in front of anything.

Jason liked it. He loved it. He loved Dick, and that was probably why even the bitty annoying things he found in most people came so endearing when belonged to this certain person.

“Thank you, mista…”

“Jay.” Jason smiled. “You‒ your parents always call me Jay. You can call me Jay too.”

“Thank you, Jay.”

When they got home, Dick flew to every corner of the apartment. Jason took time admiring his husband little body marvel every little thing nested in their house, every little thing that was his and theirs.

Beast came out to greet them, and Dick couldn’t look happier. Most kids by his size seeing a dog by Beast’s size crapped their pants, but not Dick, not the boy who grew up surrounded by felines and befriended a giant elephant. He took no time climbing up Beast’s back and laid his head down the moving mountain of fur. He had the most beautiful smile on his face when looking back at Jason, and it had him breathless.

Dick never smiled like that. Being married for 7 years had taught Jason every shade of Dick’s emotions, from the bluest to the reddest, from the darkest to the brightest. The laugh he rung right now carried the innocence of a child who knew too little of this world, whose weight on the legs was only his body and not the world.

“Well fuck.”

Jason snapped himself out of the wire. John stood by his bedroom door, crossing his arms watching Dick’s riding Beast run around the living room.

“Don’t tell me I’m having a sibling.”

Jason groaned and went pick Dick off Beast’s back. “No, no you’re not.” Because having John was enough to deal with already. “Your dad ran into… stuff. This is how he’s gonna temporary stay like.”

“No shit, that’s pa?”

“Pooper mouth!” Dick suddenly yelled and pointed a finger at John, jostling Jason who just had him up by his chest. “Mama says who curses must clean the animal cells.”

“You’re cute.” John laughed.

Dick flipped his sleeves around and blew his tongue at John. His reaction only entertained their son more.

“Say, how old are you?”

“I’m 7. But Mr. Haly says I’ll be as big as a centaur.”

“Is that so?” John dragged the words out. God, maturing up being the smallest of the family sure as hell broke his childhood dream tremendously.

“You better not say a thing.” Jason threated John.

“I’ll be as big as a centaur!” Dick yelled right into Jason’s ear again, jumping up and down in his arms.

“Alright, alright. As big as a centaur.”

Soon enough, Jason found himself struggling to dress Dick because none of his clothes fit him now. Dick couldn’t wear his jacket to bed, so Jason came up with a solution by dressing only John’s old nightwear top and leaving the bottom out.

By the time they were out of the shower, Jason had Dick sat on the vanity counter and brushing his teeth while looking around in curiosity. He still had his ring around his neck, and that made Jason unconsciously smile more than once.

Jason called in to cancel patrol later in the day. He couldn’t go out with Dick like this, so Jason settled his day by resting his face on his palm watching his 8 years old husband sing and dance after the cartoon show on TV at midnight.

Dick wriggled his butt around, constantly stood on his hands half as much as on his feet. He called for Beast and hugged him until the show ended, making Jason wonder if this was what Mr. and Mrs. Grayson had dealt with every time they called him to bed, their little Robin curled in the tiger cage or nested somewhere among the animals.  

Dick had actually done that. He had told Jason before.

“When will Mr. Haly and my mom and dad be done?” Dick rubbed his eyes. “I miss them.”

Jason didn’t know if he was tired or on emotional edge. It was hard to tell if it was little of both when Dick buried his face into Beast’s fur and yawned loudly.

“You miss them?”

Dick nodded.

“Come here.”

Jason patted on his side of the bed. Dick didn’t hesitate and crawled right over.

He wrapped his little arms around Jason and hugged him without asking. Jason, too used to have his Dick’s arms around him, took a second to get used to the feeling.

Jason lost his word. He didn’t know how to deal with a kid. All of a sudden, he thought of Bruce, thought of how he had deal with the 9 years old version of a broken Dick right after losing his parents.

He didn’t want to be like Bruce.

“I’m missing someone too, someone really important to me.”

Dick curled himself tighter around him. “Really?”

“Yeah, I love them very much. I love them so much, I feel lonely and empty without them by my side.”

Dick blinked and nudged even closer. “Don’t worry, mista. Dick can stay with you until they come back. Tig the Tiger gets lonely too every time Mr. Haly moves him to a different cell when he has a bad leg, but Dick always come sleep with him so he won’t cry.”

“Is that so?”

“Um, Dick will protect you until your partner comes back.”

Jason tried not to laugh. Gosh, why couldn’t he be like this when he was 7? Why couldn’t Damian be like this when he first came to them? It would have been a much less pain in the ass.

That night, they went to sleep with Dick tucked in Jason’s arms, lightly snoring after the story of the legend Nightwing of Krypton.

Jason almost had a heart attack waking up next to a kid until he remembered what just happened last night.

He took his time admiring Dick’s sleeping face, couldn’t help but smile to himself. This was the face of Dick Grayson he never got to see, Jason was going to devour it as much as he could until Dick turned back. And if he had snapped one for two photo with his phone, that was his secret to keep.

One more thing he learned since this incident, was that little Dick ate like a tiger cub. He liked strawberry, a lot.

“Easy would you? We still have more if you like.” Jason nervously laughed as he watched Dick chunked down all the strawberries Jason had pushed into his plate since he finished his in a blink.

Dick’s eyes sparked up as Jason wiped the edge of his mouth. “Really?”

“Yes. But you have to be a good boy to have them.”

Dick giggled. “I can be a good boy. I am a good boy.”

“Should I get you two a room or…”

Jason glared at John, who wriggled his brows all the way to his hairline. He kicked his son under the table, smiled when Dick cocked his head in confuse as John howled.

Wiping Dick’s lips again, watching his little husband playfully picked up another strawberry and played with it like a toy plane, made Jason suddenly thought maybe this whole magic shit wasn’t so bad.

He would still hunt Constantine’s ass down for this, but no one needed to know Jason was enjoying more than he should.

“Jeff knocked on the door today again, you know.” His son laid out on the table and poked at Dick’s nose. “You have to spill something to him. The man is jumping in the dark not knowing anything.”

“He doesn’t need to know anything. By tomorrow, your dad will turn back. That’s all.”

“You can at least tell him, he lives only one stair down. In the end, he loves Pop.”

Jason glared at him.

“What? I have eyes, you know. Have you seen his face?”

“He works for me. You think I’m blind?”

“And you’re okay with him being like that?”

“Emotional relation makes people loyal.”

“Wait, so you made him…”

“No.” Jason shook his head, gave Dick the dish with the rest of the strawberries and shooed him to the living room.

“What do you mean no?”

“That’s not my doing, that’s your dad. That’s his secret power, he makes people falls for him, follow him, listen to him. Your dad is a damn meta in the art of manipulation.”

“Sounds like you have a handful of experience.”

“Oh I did. I did, you have no idea.”

Everybody knew how good Dick was in getting what he wanted. He played with his words, digged through people’s skins and flayed them open to examine. He read their minds, bonded lies and truth together, until everybody fell for it and listened to him like bewitched.

Since knowing Dick until now, Jason had never once broken through this spell he wilfully exposed himself to.

Suddenly, he felt the edge of his shirt being tugged down. Dick, with his impossibly huge eyes, looked up at him with half of a strawberry poked out between his wet lips. He pushed the fat fruit in further with one hand, while the other squeezed on his shirt like begging for something.

“What is it?” Jason picked him up and rested him on his lap despite John’s amused huff.

“Beast wants to go out.” He pointed his little finger toward Beast, who hopped up from where he lied, heaving through his mouth excitedly.

Well, wasn’t that surprising.

“He wants to go out?”

Dick nodded, head bobbed up and down like a doll.

“He told me so.”

“He told you so?”

“Dick can talk to animal, don’t you know?”

Well damn. Jason doesn’t mean anything bad when he reached for his phone and started recording.

“Tell me again, Dickie. You can talk to animal?”

“Um hum, I can talk to lion and tiger too. Big lions and tigers, like the one Mr. Haly keeps.” Dick opened his arm big and wide to emphasize. Half of the strawberry still hung dangling between his lips.

He started jumping on his feet when rambling about all the animals the circus raised, and Zitka. He twirled on his little feet, hands waved around, cheek swollen with what was left of the fruit he was munching on.

Dick would probably hate him for doing this. He would probably even kick Jason out of their bedroom for weeks if Jason showed this to any of his men.

But that was only the close future to care about, right?

“Jason.”

Jason rolled on his stomach, groaned. Too damn early to deal with anything.

“Jason.”

Fuck, he’d shoot the head of whoever was fucking annoying him.

“Wake up before I kick you off the bed.”

Jason snapped his eyes open and shot himself off the mattress. Blinking, he heaved watching Dick stand in the middle of the room, naked, arm crossed with a displeased frown printed on his forehead.

“You took your time.” Dick, grown Dick, Nightwing Dick, his Dick, quirked his brow and uncrossed his arm, picked up the jacket on the floor and threw it at Jason’s face.

“Clean your mess. How many time have I told you to not throw your jacket down the floor right after going home.”

He went straight to the bathroom after that, hips swaying in the way that had half of Gotham heralds went nutshit, leaving Jason dumbfounded on the bed.

Instinctive as he was, he reached for the bedside table and opened his phone, checking the photo library without a single thought. The photos were still there, all of them.

He laughed to himself. It wasn’t a dream.

The shower started running. Dick was singing loudly. Outside, the sun poured through their window, shone on the naked brick walls and the old poster of Haly circus.

He reached for the drawer, picked on dozens of other work phone and typed in Constantine’s number.

“He’s back. You live.

RH.”

Then he threw his phone away, stripped off his clothes, and went straight to the bathroom.

“Honey, did you ever say you liked strawberry when you were little?”

[i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate]

Weicca: I’ll Be Home

This is for the Edens Zero Server Secret Santa Event! :D I wrote this for @awkwardauthorarianna​ !!! I’m your secret santa!!! I decided to just do something for the Holiday, something fluffy. I really hope you like it! :D 

Also, I couldn’t resist adding Pino as Shiki’s little sister! I needed Pino in this and since it’s kind of a modern/our world AU this seemed to work out. 

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

          “So, the fact is…” the same pause on the recording. “I won’t be home for Christmas.” Another deep breath. “My real home. With you…. And Shiki and Homura… I miss you, Princess. I know once we found out the project was ending soon we were hoping I’d make it home… But… I’m so sorry, Rebecca. I love you, and I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

          A soft click, and then a beep. “End of Message. Delete: press 7—” Rebecca tapped a button. “Saved.”

          She dropped her cellphone on the couch and turned towards the little Christmas tree she had set up by the front window. They had both been so excited. It was their first Christmas in the apartment they now shared together. They had come up with plan, late at night after he’d gotten home from the university.

          “We’ll wake up Christmas morning,” he had sighed, “And just stay in bed until we can’t stand it anymore.”

          “Dinner at Shiki and Homura’s,” Rebecca had reminded him.

          “So we’ll stay in bed until then.”

          But he had left to complete a project for the university all the way on the other side of the globe… all her dreams of having the perfect Christmas with him had been crushed. She remembered when she finally caved and bought a tree—under Shiki’s encouragement. “Come on, Rebecca! It might make you feel better to have some Christmas cheer!” She had been excited to decorate it with Weisz. But Christmas drew closer and closer… and Weisz still hadn’t come home.

          It wasn’t until two days ago she had pulled out the little ornaments and lights they had bought together to finally decorate. Shiki and Homura had told her it might be nice for Weisz to come home to things ready for the holiday festivities. But now—Christmas Eve—she wasn’t sure that he would come home at all.

          There was a knock on her door, startling her out of her thoughts. Someone this late on Christmas Eve? She moved away from the living room to the hall where another knock sounded from the front door.

          “I’m coming,” she sighed. She unlocked and swung open the front door. It was dumping snow outside. Shiki was standing on her doorstep wearing a santa hat.

          “Rebecca!” He laughed, holding out a plate, “I brought you some cookies! Merry Christmas!” For some reason… this was really what she needed. She took a deep breath, and threw her arms around her friend, holding him close. “Woah!” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close with his free hand. “Are you alright, Becca?”

          “No,” she whispered, tears springing up in her eyes. “No… I… I miss him.”

          Shiki’s arm tightened around her, “I know. I know. I’m really sorry. Hey! I have an idea. Why don’t you come tomorrow morning to me and Homura’s? It might cheer you up! We can have a big brunch! And then we can open presents, and play party games!”

          “R-really?” She whispered, pulling away to wipe away tears.

          “Yeah! Come as soon as you wake up! I’m waking up super early!” He laughed.

          “Thanks, Shiki, that really means a lot to me,” she said.

          “Get some rest.” Shiki gently handed her the plate of Christmas cookies. “See you tomorrow morning!”

***

          It was snowing the next morning. Rebecca lay in bed for a little bit, blankets wrapped up to her shoulders. Her little cat, Happy was sleeping at her feet, chin resting on her leg. Weisz’s side of the bed was empty… cold… It’s not how I imagined waking up Christmas morning. She gently lifted her phone, tapping out a text—Weisz was probably busy, but at least she could send him a little message. Missing you. Merry Christmas!

          She gently set her phone aside, and stood to get dressed. Shiki and Homura’s house waited. The snow was thick on the ground—several inches. She put on her boots and trekked down the street. Shiki and Homura’s wasn’t far. She could see the lights from the outdoor decorations flashing bright colors against the white of the landscape. Before she even made it to yard, the front door swung open and Shiki’s little sister Pino rushed out—eyes wide and smile bright.

          “Rebecca!” She threw her arms around Rebecca’s waist, holding her close. “I’m glad you’re here! Shiki said you’d be coming!”

          “Hey!” Rebecca laughed, wrapping an arm around the girl. “It’s good to see you! Are you having a good Christmas morning?”

          “Better now that you’re here!” Pino giggled, excitement bubbling up in her laugh. “Come on inside, Shiki and Homura are making hot chocolate! And we’re going to open presents!!” Pino led the way inside, her hand warm in Rebecca’s. Shiki and Homura’s home was warm, the fireplace was roaring, the front room was decorated with lights and hanging snowflakes, and holly. Rebecca laughed a little to herself. Shiki loved the holidays.

          Last Christmas he had Weisz help him string up what seemed like a million lights across the roof of their home. Rebecca had been laughing down below with Pino, watching them struggle, Homura holding the ladder. I wish you were here now, Weisz. Somehow, even surrounded by her friends, Rebecca missed Weisz now more than ever…

          Shiki and Homura talked to her about their plans for New Year’s Eve. They all sat in the living room drinking their hot chocolate, watching the snow fall outside. Pino showed Rebecca the gifts she got for Christmas. And the hot chocolate slowly disappeared. Maybe Weisz will be home for New Years! Shiki had said, just as there was a rap at the front door.

          Homura blinked. “That’s very odd. Maybe it’s our strange next door neighbor.”

          “I’ll get it!” Pino leaped to her feet from where she had been sitting next to Rebecca. She practically danced to the front door, and swung it open.

          “Happy Holidays—oh!” Pino paused, eyes wide. “You’re here!!” She practically jumped into the arms of whoever was at the door.

          A familiar, warm laugh…

          “Who is it?” Shiki frowned, moved towards the doorway, but before he could come around the couch, Weisz stepped in, Pino’s arms still around his waist. Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat, and her chest tightened. Weisz. Weisz… was home.

          He was bundled up in a thick coat, his hair dusted with melting snow, his cheeks flushed from the cold. A purple scarf wrapped twice around his neck.

          Rebecca stood, and their eyes met across the room. Weisz offered her a bright grin. “Hey, Princess…” His voice was soft, his eyes shining. “I’m home.”

          She crossed the room in seconds, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling him in a tight hug. She couldn’t speak through tears, just clutched his coat as tight as she could. “Weisz… Weisz…”

          “Merry Christmas,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. She just shook her head, holding him so tight.

          “I thought… I thought you weren’t going to come back… in time…?”

          “They released us two days ago, and I wanted to try my hardest to surprise you. I’m sorry I’m late—”

          But Rebecca kissed him before he could finish, hand pressed against his cold cheek. “You’re the best holiday gift a girl could ask for, Mr. Steiner.” He laughed a little, she rested her forehead against his. “I love you.”

          He beamed back at her… soft… just for her… “I love you too.”

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 12 - Come Sunday

“I don’t like that melody,” I shook my head, looking over to Julian and another writer, Jamie, as we sat in one of the writing rooms at the label. The walls were a light beige, we were hidden away inside the big building--no windows showing the sky to help us keep track of time.

We’d been working on songs for three days straight--trying to find the right demo for this band that Julian was really trying to launch.

Jamie let out a sigh, it was the fourth melody I’d shot down in the last ten minutes. I strummed the same chord, looking over the words we’d scribbled on paper in front of us.

You said apologies don’t work

But I know it’s not just words that hurt

“What if we sped it up?” I asked, changing the strumming pattern to be a bit more upbeat. “I don’t know, something like this?”

Julian let his head bob from side to side, listening to me hum the words over the new tempo. “That’s not bad,” he said. “We could do a more descending melody over that.”

“That’ll be hard to synchronize all of the words over the chords,” Jamie pointed out, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin.

He was right--and in fact, I’d been too much of a stickler about every single suggestion that had been tossed into the room. All I knew was that whatever song was going to be the first I’d write with the label again had to be a good one.

It’d been three weeks since I came back from Jamaica. Three weeks since I wrote with a group of people that made it feel natural--and not that Julian and Jamie didn’t, it was more that something in me had been off since I’d left.

My brain went back to Harry, back to the studio, wondering what was happening and what they were all doing. Even here, sitting in the writing room that had no windows, I was thinking about what he thought and how he felt.

“Can we just scratch this one?” I asked, looking up to see both Julian and Jamie watching as I strummed the same three chords. Julian scrunched his nose and looked to Jamie--waiting for further input. “I have a better one, I have something that I started working on the other night.”

“Yeah--sure, okay,” Julian said, shifting in his seat and watching as I pulled my phone out from my bag on the floor. I pulled up the note, put the capo on the second fret, and strummed.

I’d like to think that you know this

But I’ve got a feeling you might not

Coulda sworn that you’d notice

Maybe it wasn’t all our fault

Cause now I know, there’s no choice but letting go

So I’ll just be with you tonight

I’ll just push all this aside

Cause I’ve got my heart in my hands

And I don’t have a plan how to hold it

Cause I knew this wouldn’t work

And we’d both end up hurt

Yeah I told ya

“It’s just the first half,” I shrugged, looking back up from the lyrics on the screen.

“That’s good, Maggie--like really good,” Jamie’s voice was quiet but sure. I looked up at him quickly, I didn’t expect the reaction to be that positive. I thought--if anything--the song would get us into a different groove. It was a different tempo, a different chord progression, different key entirely.

I wanted to give us something to just regroup, start fresh, think in a different way. “Oh,” I said, “really? I just had that chorus in my head last night and came up with the first verse.”

“Where would you go for a bridge in that?” Julian asked, leaning his arm on the table and resting his head in his hand.

“Same chords, I think, different melody.” I nodded confidently, it didn’t feel like the song that needed a huge turn around bridge. Julian nodded again and was quiet for a second--I suddenly felt like I’d just played my first demo to the first B-list producer who would listen.

Julian--who was probably one of the most reputable producers in London--was someone I’d known for so long. He wasn’t a new person or a scary producer that I’d never worked with. Yet for some reason, playing a song that was only mine felt terrifying.

I’d long gotten used to the idea of rejection. I mean, when you sell your creations for a living, you kind of have to. I got used to apologetic emails and short voicemails telling me maybe next time, kid, by the time I was 15. I’d sent so many demos to so many people that eventually, I just wanted someone to say I was good.

When I first started writing songs I’d play them alone in my bedroom. Then I played them for my parents. Then for my friends. And slowly I got more comfortable putting them out there and letting the world hear what was going on inside my head.

But, without fail, playing a song for a person in the business always felt somewhat daunting. It was the Monday morning anxiety you felt on your way into a difficult job. It was laying everything out there and hoping you don’t crash and burn.

I was more than comfortable throwing my ideas around. Words, melodies, I was even comfortable singing in front of people despite the fact that my talent was clearly in verse-crafting.

I’d brought in a few pieces of songs before--melodies, some phrases or even a verse or two, but this felt different. This song was fully formed--it just needed another verse and a bridge and it was finished. Julian seemed to think so too.

“Finish that, bring it back tomorrow.”

**

I was sat on my couch later that night, weeding through the words that were tangled in my head. I’d written two separate verses that could complete the song. I wrote a bridge that was fine. Nothing seemed to click though, at least until my phone buzzed on the couch beside me.

Harry’s name on the screen made me push my guitar off of my lap, abandoning it on the cushion beside me. I clawed for it quickly, my heart it in throat as I swiped it open to read whatever he’d said.

Was it an accident? Was he meaning to text a different Maggie he knew?

Can you talk?

I let my thumbs hover over the screen, completely unsure of how to respond to his vague and hopeful question. Should I be hopeful though? Was it fair to think that this was good? Perhaps he wanted to call me up to put one final nail in the coffin; let me know that he never wanted to speak to me again and was officially deleting my contact from his phone and any trace of me from his life. In all honesty, I wouldn’t blame him.

I did the time change quickly in my head. It was 2:09pm in Jamaica--if he was still there. I wondered where he was. At the studio? In a different country all together? He could be in Japan with the Queen and I would have no idea--something about that struck me as disheartening.

And how long did I wait? Should I respond quickly to show my remorse--or did I play some form of hard to get and make him wonder how I felt?

I decided to go with the former before I could overthink things too much, and typed an answer.

Sure.

My phone rang within seconds, reflecting the image on my ceiling on the screen. Not only did he want to talk, he wanted to see me.

I ran a hand over my hair once, trying to smooth it out. I wiped under my eyes to clear any smudged mascara before clicking the green button.

“Hi,” I said, feeling my face flush just looking at him. He was in a dark room somewhere--not Jamaica, the walls were too dark.

“Hi,” he said, his lips set in a straight line. He had some stubble on his chin and he looked a little tired.

“How are you?” I asked, pulling a leg up to lean back against the couch. My stomach was in knots--I simultaneously felt like I could cry and throw up, and I was probably sweating through my shirt.

“M’okay--how are you?” his words blended together a bit, his accent seemed stronger than usual. I wondered if he’d been home to see his family.

“I’m fine,” I said, shrugging slightly. I didn’t know if I should go into it--did I apologize again and tell him that I fucked up? Did he know already that I felt that way? Did it need saying?

“Listen--I uh, I just wanted to reach out to let you know that we’re doing an equal cut for everyone who wrote. Jeffrey offered to call, but I figured I’d just let you know myself. We settled on 25% broken up amongst the creative team. Writers, producers, mixers, engineers, the like.”

I nodded slowly--math wasn’t my strong suit, so I had no idea the actual percentage that would leave me with. I figured the other 25% would go to the admin side of things--the label, management, HR, publicists. And then, as per usual, Harry got around 50%.

And it was fine. I was used to it. There were often 40 people behind the scenes that got a small cut of the profit. Harry--or the band, whoever was the face of the project--got a the biggest chunk.

“So you’ll get 2.5% of every sale.”

I pulled myself back and out of the numbers. I looked at the screen again. It wasn’t terrible. That was about average. In fact, I think I made less during his days in the band. The album would definitely sell a couple hundred thousand copies. If there were any other royalties--radio plays, streaming, touring royalties, music video royalties--my income would be set for the next two years.

“Okay,” I said, offering another nod with small smile. “Harry, can we just talk for a second? I know you--”

“Maggie we’ve already talked,” he said with a sigh. He rubbed at his eyes and didn’t seem to look back at me.

I trailed off, licking my lips and waiting for him to say something else. When he didn’t, I blinked a few times. “Okay--sure, yeah. I just, I don’t know.”

“Listen, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

I nodded slowly, searching for words to change his mind. “Yeah, okay.”

And then he hung up.

**

It’d been a whole year since I’d stepped foot on U.S. soil, and being in Hopkins International Airport for the second time in a week felt overwhelming. I’d let Julian know that I needed some space, so a trip to Cleveland to see my parents was a given. Being on a different continent seemed to be enough distance between Harry and I that I could actually breathe.

After our business FaceTime call--which felt too professional for the nature of our previous relationship--I decided to figure out where he was. A quick google search and some social media scrolling let me know that he was, in fact, back in London. I had no idea the duration of his time in Jamaica or when he returned to the city I’d learned to call home, but I figured running into him would be the cherry on top of the shit-cake that 2016 had shaped up to be.

So, in true Margaret Mable O’Rourke fashion--according to my mother--I was running away. And now, after a week in my childhood bedroom wondering if the U.K. was really the place for me, I was headed to Nashville to see Chelsea in all of her stateside glory.

She’d begged and pleaded and I’d submitted three finished songs to Julian to make up for the time that I’d be gone--but timing was good. The duo we were working with--two girls from Manchester--wanted to record a few demos to prepare an EP of sorts for the label--letting the execs pick which song would be their first single.

When I took off for Ohio, I got a text that the song I’d played him and Jamie the other day had made it onto their mini portfolio. A week later and now I knew that my song had been chosen, and was now in a final stage of mastering for radio and streaming distribution. It was huge news--news that made my parents feel a little bit better about letting me go back to London after crying in their kitchen about my break up and the hiatus and the sudden shift that left me feeling lonely and incompetent.

So naturally, here in a bar with Chelsea in downtown Nashville kind of amped that feeling up. Because once again, it was extremely unclear to me why we were still here at 1:34am, with Chelsea giggling into the neck of her man of the night.

It was nice to see that she hadn’t changed a bit--not that it’d been so long since I’d seen her. A few months between us and Chelsea was still wearing her bright red lipstick and her hair was as blonde as ever. What had changed, though, was that I was now a miserable, pessimistic, and somewhat drunk girl in a bar in the U.S. who’d gone and fucked up a relationship that could have been something great (pun intended, I wrote that song with Harry and Julian in the Summer of 2012).

I held my drink up to my lips, letting my tongue find the straw as my eyes wandered around the room. Everywhere I looked, people seemed to be paired up. Groups of girls, groups of guys, couples sprinkled around the room with heads tilted together, laughing as the alcohol in their cups slowly disappeared.

Chelsea and her new friend, however, were much louder and much closer than anyone else in the room.

I was thankful, then, for the distraction of my phone vibrating in my back pocket. The name on my screen seemed to blur out the rest of the bar--the noise, the music, and the people seemed to dim and fade as my eyes focused in on the words.

Julian played me your song the other day, it’s really good. Congrats.

I read it three times. I stared at the punctuation and calculated the different options for the end of his sentence. Did he actually like it? Did he realize that the song was about him? Was he saying that to be nice? Was he throwing me a bone after having a too-professional conversation as if he hadn’t watched my face while he made me orgasm?

I sucked down the end of my drink and left Chelsea behind, heading for the bar to refill. More liquid courage for whatever type of response I settled on.

“Dirty Shirley, please,” I said, thankful for not having to explain what I meant. Sometimes, in London, the idea of a Shirley Temple struck people as odd. I’d gotten used to following the name with ‘sprite, grenadine, and vodka, please.’

The bartender handed me my drink with a smile, letting me disappear back into the crowd to have a moment by myself. I read the message again.

Julian played me your song the other day, it’s really good. Congrats.

Thanks for the feedback? Why did he play it for you? What did you really think? My options were endless, but none of them felt appropriate for the current lack of communication between us. So I sipped at my drink and read it again--hoping, maybe he didn’t pick up on the things that sounded eerily similar to us.

And then I read it again.

And again.

And then my drink was gone, and then my finger was pressing his name in my contact list and the phone was pressed to my ear as it rang.

“Hello?” his voice was quiet, which made me realize that it was early in the morning there--if that’s where he was.

“Are you in London?”

“No,” he said, “I’m in L.A. Where are you?”

My question surprised him--or maybe it was just the sound of my voice. “I’m in Nashville.”

“Why are you in Nashville?”

His curiosity sparked a feeling of power in me, I turned on my heel and headed for the door to find more quiet. “I’m visiting Chelsea.”

“Oh--how’s that?”

“Did you really like my song?” I changed the subject, wanting to get to the real conversation before he inevitably said he didn’t want to talk to me.

“I did,” he said confidently, his voice calm and sure. Why was he calm and sure? “Are you drunk?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head aggressively, denying the fact that there was--undoubtedly--alcohol in my system. “I’m at a bar, though.” Tossing that detail in felt like a surefire way to ignite some jealousy.

“With Chelsea?” He asked, his voice a little higher pitched.

“And some other people,” I lied, watching as the door open and closed as new people filtered into the bar. The noise got louder and then quieted, “Chelsea’s friends from work.”

“How’s she like her new job?”

“She likes it,” I said, not wanting to get too sidetracked. “Why did Julian play you the song? When did you see him?”

“Last night--he’s here for work and I’m here for meetings. We had dinner. When did you write it?”

“A while ago,” I lied again. “It’s in my catalog.”

The lying would have felt more concerning had it not been for the Dirty Shirleys. The next words came out of my mouth without much thought. “You’re kind of a jerk, though.”

He let out a quiet laugh on the other end of the line. “I’m a jerk? Why’s that?”

I sighed, somewhat hesitant to continue my sentence. He was a jerk because when I spoke to him two weeks ago he didn’t even give me the time of day. Maggie with alcohol brain didn’t really care though, at least he was listening now. “Because you didn’t listen to me,” I said.

“Maggie, I--” he started to speak but I cut him off.

“You didn’t even let me explain and you just made your assumptions about what happened.”

“I don’t know if we should talk about this now, Maggie,” his voice seemed sad and quiet, less entertained that he was a few seconds earlier.

“Then when, Harry? When will you listen to me and let me actually get a chance to talk?”

He was quiet for a second, I shoved my hand in the pocket of the leather jacket I wore. “M’not sure it’s a good idea.”’

“Of course, Harry. Of course it’s not a good idea,” I said sarcastically.

He let out a sigh, “Maggie…”

“Harry,” I shot his name back, still sarcastic and still with an attitude.

“Let’s talk tomorrow. You can sleep this off and we can talk in the morning.”

“It is morning,” I told him matter-of-factly.

“In your time zone,” he corrected.

I let out a short laugh. “Okay, fuck you.” I was getting more angry with his reluctance to even acknowledge my feelings. Sure--he had the right to feel his own, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t have any and didn’t get to share them. This wasn’t all about him, but I guess that’s what he was used to.

“Alright Maggie, I’ll talk to you later.”

I hung up before responding, the anger building in my chest until it made its way to my eyes, forming as tears that threatened to spill over. I stormed back into the bar, storming past people to find Chelsea--now sat in a booth--with another drink and a different guy.

“I’m going home,” I told her, my hands on my hips as I waited for a response. She stared up at me, my words taking a second to settle in her head and find meaning.

“What? Why?”

“It’s almost closing time anyway,” I defended, ignoring her question altogether. “I’m calling an Uber.”

“Okay, alright, fine,” she said, pulling her phone up to check it. The screen lit up, she had a few notifications, but she clicked it shut quickly. “Let’s go.”

She followed me outside, glued to her screen as we waited for our ride to pull up curbside. Plenty of happy and intoxicated people stumbled by us, drunk on the winter air and the Tennessee whiskey that they’d certainly consumed. But I wondered, for a second, if Harry was as sad as I was.

Did he care? Did he wonder how I felt or wish we hadn’t fallen apart? And maybe it was silly to wish that something that had barely taken flight hadn’t crashed and burned, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it wasn’t silly to hope that someone who brought a new meaning to my life felt the same way. But I didn’t know if I’d ever find out.

He said we’d talk later. I didn’t believe him.

**

I woke up the next morning on Chelsea’s couch. Her flat in Nashville was smaller than what she’d had in London--but she had the same blanket that I’d curl up with back home.

“Morning,” she smiled at me as I blinked a few times to clear my vision. She was stood across the living room, leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, clutching a cup of tea. The sun filtered in through her oversized windows, letting me know that it was probably closer to noon than I’d like for it to be.

“Hi,” I groaned, pushing myself up off of the couch. I rubbed at my eyes and cleared my throat, feeling a wave of nausea hit me. “How are you?”

“How are you is the real question,” she laughed and walked to come sit on the couch. I bent my legs at my knees, making room for her to sit on the opposite end.

“What do you mean?”

She gave me a sympathetic look, sipping her tea before responding. “You called Harry last night.”

“Oh, yeah, I know,” I said, laying back down and closing my eyes, hoping to avoid the embarrassment that was sure to be showing on my cheeks.

“You called him a jerk.”

I let out a groan--I’d forgotten that part--but then opened my eyes to furrow my brow at her. “How do you know all of this? Did I tell you?”

“No, he did.”

“He did?”

She nodded. “He texted me to make sure you were okay.”

“To make sure I was okay?” I asked somewhat incredulously as I stared up at the ceiling. “What does that even mean?” What I meant, what I thought, was: no, I wasn’t okay, and it was because he wouldn’t give me a chance to figure things out.

“You were drunk,” she shrugged.

“I know, but--why does he care? He won’t even listen to me.”

“He does care, Maggie, he just--” she trailed off, looking down at her tea.

“He what?” I sat up again, keeping my eyes on her as she carefully picked out her words. Was she defending him? How much did they actually talk?

“He doesn’t know what to do.”

“Well neither do I, Chelsea. He’s the one who won’t listen. I’m willing to talk.” I said all of this as if it were old news--but I realized that I hadn't really told her much. I filled her in on Jamaica and the break up and me coming home, but I’d yet to really tell her about the conversation about the royalties via FaceTime. I also hadn’t really told her how I felt about it.

“I know, Maggie.”

“What did he say last night?”

She shrugged and seemed to look around the room, wondering whether or not to answer my question.

“Let me read your texts,” I ordered, my eyes on her face to see her reaction. Why would she hide anything? She shouldn’t have to, so I should be able to read them.

She let out a sigh and stood from the couch to fetch her phone in her bedroom. When she returned, she handed it over and sat back down.

Hi Chelsea. Are you with Maggie?

Hey, yeah I am. Everything okay?

She just called me. How drunk is she?

I guess drunk enough to call you haha

Is she alright? She seemed mad at me.

She called me a jerk.

We’re going home, she’s fine, just tired and drunk.

Sorry she called you a jerk.

It’s fine, haha. I guess she just wants to talk.

She definitely wants to talk. Do you not want to?

Not sure yet.

Just wanted to make sure she’s okay, is all. Have a good night, sorry to bother. X

I let out a sigh and looked up at Chelsea--I couldn’t really be mad that she had spoken with him. I was the one--alcohol and all--that decided to give him a call and apparently, a piece of my mind.

She stared back at me, her eyes soft and understanding as I tried to search for words. But I couldn’t find any. Because the only words that played on a loop in my head were: you fucked up, Maggie.

AN: Hi all!!!! Your love for this story is seriously amazing and I super super appreciate it. This story has been tough to write at times because it’s different than what I’m used to tbh. But alas, thanks for reading. Feedback is always welcome!!!!! 

[jennifersylvesters]

not so subtle - part eight

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader Word Count: 3.3k~ Warning: swearing A/N: this was supposed to be posted in january. i am...bad with deadlines. i’ll be honest - it’s slightly a filler but important for the impending valentine’s day part. no surprise here but, feedback is always appreciated/loved wink wonk nudge nudge please gimme

Things dramatically shifted in the group dynamic after Vegas. It was painfully obvious that you and Harrison were no longer on speaking terms. Well, he wasn’t speaking to you while you assumed he hated your guts. Not that anyone wanted to talk about it. Tom and Emma refused to bring Harrison up around you, carefully tiptoeing around the subject. Occasionally Tom would almost slip up - almost dropping his best friend’s name - until he remembered better or Emma nudged him before the word could leave his mouth.

Despite their worries, you weren’t particularly sensitive about Harrison. It didn’t matter how many times you repeated that you were fine and that it wasn’t a huge deal; they viewed you like a delicate creature that was more fragile than you let on.

How many times did you need to remind them you were fine? Or well, you would be. Eventually. Hopefully. You didn’t have the luxury of mulling around in your thoughts, discussing your feelings about Harrison. No, you had schoolwork. You weren’t going to fail your education because you were pining like a Victorian character. Not on your watch. Deuces, bitches.

You knew Vegas in some ways had been both a wake up call and a fluke. It was the ever-so-polite reminder how you and Harrison weren’t going to be a thing. Ever. For real this time. Someone always ended up being an idiot - usually him though sometimes you - and someone got hurt in the process.  Apparently you were never going to attain happiness through a love life.  But what was more exciting than an affectionate and healthy relationship? Good grades! Well, hopefully.

So once again you threw yourself into your studies, not really bothering to go out unless Emma or Kimberly invited you. With how things ended, it was no surprise that Tom never brought along Harrison to movie premieres in the States. You hadn’t even seen Harrison - both in real life and social media - until you were tapping through Instagram stories one night.

In the story Tom was filming himself at some party, excitedly chatting about how he couldn’t wait for people to see his new film. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed the small detail that would sucker punch you in the stomach. But you did. And boy, you were not ready for that at all.

There in the top right corner was some blonde straddling Harrison, his hands glued to her ass and sucking face like it was no one’s business. Waves of jealousy crashed into you. You weren’t even sure why. Maybe because she was hot as hell? Possibly. Perhaps because he moved on so quickly? Potentially. Was it because you didn’t like seeing him with someone that wasn’t you? No, that couldn’t be right.

But there was one thing you were certain of: you really wanted to figure out where she got her cute top from. What kind of person thinks that? Apparently your dumb ass would.

A couple hours later your inbox was flooded with apologizes from Tom. He texted in all caps how he didn’t realize what was in the background, but that he couldn’t erase the footage. If he deleted that certain part, the video wouldn’t make sense as a whole. Yet if he deleted all of it, speculation would build up that something terrible happened.

“I didn’t realize that H was in the shot!” he sent you.

Huh. You couldn’t help but grunt at how Tom still wouldn’t use his best friend’s name in front of you. Was he afraid that you would somehow spiral? You contemplated messing with him, sending him crying emojis and telling him how terrible he was.

Tapping the buttons, you paused as you stared at your dramatic message. No, Tom didn’t deserve this. As funny as his reaction would be, you’d never hear the end of it from Emma and you knew he was coming from a good place.

You waved it off, telling him he had nothing to worry about. After all, mistakes happen all the time. Sometimes Tom made them more than most. Nothing wrong with that. Because it was fine. You weren’t dating Harrison. Whoever he chose to make out with wasn’t any of your business. He wasn’t any of your concern and never had been.

Yet something about the scene lingered in the back of your mind. There was this voice inside you whispering that things might’ve been your business if you had done things differently, if you had put in enough effort. Why didn’t you put in enough effort, Y/N?

The thoughts tugged on you despite your attempts to ignore it. You should’ve played it cooler on Halloween, Y/N. Why didn’t you? Should you have just worn lingerie and animal ears like he suggested? Or had you completely embarrassed yourself in that gigantic costume? You should’ve flirted with Noah to make Harrison jealous. Then he might actually have been interested in you. There was no way Harrison could ever get jealous about you. Plus you couldn’t flirt to save your life. But still. You could’ve tried. You thought you put in enough effort. Had you really given it your all? You didn’t do enough, Y/N. You should’ve done more.

Sometimes you fought with the voice, pointing out you tried your hardest. It just hadn’t been enough. Did you though? And somewhere down the line the voice won. Maybe if you had put in enough effort things with Harrison would’ve been different. You should’ve been better.

With that thought constantly nipping at you, you felt like giving up on dating. What was the point? You put all this effort into people only for things to fall apart. Why bother? So you dismissed your need to put in effort to things besides your studies. Who cared about looking good for class? It’s not like you were being graded on how sloppy you dressed. Who cared about what you ate? There wasn’t anyone to impress anyways. And you stuck firm to this new mindset, accepting the idea that you would die alone (and potentially eaten by wolves).

A couple weeks into the new semester, you shuffled around campus in an oversized sweatshirt and comfortable leggings; it was your preferred clothing choice for most of January. While you wouldn’t openly admit it, you’d been in a funk of just tossing on the same garb. What did it matter anyways?

Finishing off a bag of chips, you tossed the empty container into a nearby trash can. Your diet consisted of mainly take out and junk food, consuming whatever you wanted to eat. As you licked the residue your fingers, you wondered if it was appropriate to spend the rest of the day laid in bed marathoning a show on Netflix.

“Hey” a familiar voice called out, causing you to freeze in your tracks.

You turned around to see Steven politely smiling at you. It was as if the Devil and Steven decided to team up and catch you at your worst. How wonderful.

“Long time no see” he greeted you, taking a couple steps forward. You tensed up, unable to step back like you wanted to. Your brain screamed for you to take a step back - even if it was just one - but your body ignored the plea. Fuck. Him getting closer meant he could inspect your current state, something you weren’t ready for anyone to do. Someone like him didn’t even deserve that opportunity. Yet here he was.

The two of you hadn’t talked about what transpired Christmas night. When he texted you a couple days after the incident, you just texted back “sorry I’m busy”. The rest of his messages were left on read, unable to find the right response. It wasn’t like you could simply message “I know you made out with some chick even though we had something going on”.  No, it was easier letting the messages just sit there. Because avoiding problems was what grown adults totally did.

“How are you?” Good question, Steven. A part of you wanted to curse him out, scream at him about how terrible he treated you. But deep down you knew you’d never have the nerve to say anything. You just wanted to forget about the night and memories of Steven altogether.

As his words looped in your mind, you couldn’t think of a response. It was as if your brain went blank, unable to think of anything intelligible to say. So you ended up humming a sound in response. It wasn’t an answer, yet it told him everything he needed to know.

“You look...Good” he managed to get out as he surveyed you. He was lying. Both of you knew it. You didn’t have any feelings for him anymore, but it still hurt. You didn’t want to care about his judgement, but his glance felt so disparaging that you wanted to crumble. What an asshole.

You wished that you didn’t look terrible, that you actually bothered to do your hair and clothes that day. Glancing down at your sweater, you screamed internally. Of course there would be Cheeto stains on your sweater. How glamorous could you get?

“Hey, babe. Sorry I’m late.” Steven stopped smiling while you tensed up once again. God help you now.

A strong figure wrapped their arms around your waist, pressing their front gently against your back. You turned your head before your eyes bulged out slightly. You stopped breathing for a second, taking in that beautiful face next to you. Oh. So he still had that effect on you apparently.

It was Harrison looking better than ever. You avoided social media, so afraid that the voice would come back, that you couldn’t believe how much he changed. Of course he still looked gorgeous as ever, but he had a shorter haircut now which you surprisingly liked. Not that you planned on telling him especially now out of all the times.

You hadn’t realized that he was in town. Usually someone warned you, giving you time to deal with the impending chaos. Or with how things had progressed, you planned on avoiding him. Perhaps it was a surprise visit, some potential acting gig or meeting up with Tom at a set. You certainly hadn’t expected him to come to your rescue. After all he didn’t owe you anything. So why was he helping you out now?

Despite holding you, he wasn’t actually looking your way. Harrison refused to make eye contact with you, only staring down Steven.

“Oh, so you’re with him.”

Harrison’s arms tightened around you slightly as he glared down the other boy. “Yeah, she’s with me, mate.”

The Brit pressed a kiss to your cheek to confirm his words. It caught you off guard, making you bite down on your lip. Oof. Even if it was a ruse, the sign of affection was still sweet.

He wiped cheeto dust off your cheek, and you wanted to die. Less sweet. God, of course you would ruin an absolutely cute moment. Playing the part well, he didn’t let it deter him. “Isn’t she the cutest?” he asked, kissing you once more. While the affection made your heart beat quicker, it caused Steven discomfort to watch. Good. You deserve it, bitch ass Steven.

“You know what I like about Y/N, Stevie?” he started with fake smile on his face. Steven grimaced at the nickname, which seemed to fuel Harrison. “She’s real. She’s honest with others, sometimes to a fault. But she’s never afraid to be upfront about her feelings.” You weren’t sure where he was going with this, raising an eyebrow. “That’s what I appreciate about her.

“And it’s nice to know she didn’t string me along with another guy.” Oh shit. “She didn’t make fake promises to me and then make out with some other person in a grocery store just because she had the options. She actually fucking committed.” Holy shit. Steven’s face paled as Harrison glared at him, words digging in with every syllable.

“Wait a-” Steven tried interjecting, but Harrison wasn’t having it.

“And she certainly didn’t need to be polite to others, especially when they didn’t deserve it. But she’s got a big heart and doesn’t treat others like garbage even when that’s what they are: absolute shit.”

“You c-”

“Because people who go around expecting everyone to fall on their knees and act like they’re amazing are usually total divs. Complete idiots really.”

Steven said nothing, only bowed his head as his hands balled up. His knuckles turned white, and you worried that this might get violent.

“Y/N isn’t some high and mighty twat. She doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone because it’s a fact that she’s amazing. She’s not some self-obsessed, narcissistic arsehole who misses out on great opportunities. D’you know what I mean, mate?” Harrison held nothing back, practically attacking everything about Steven in a fatal blow. What could he even say to that?

“Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to spend some private time with my girlfriend.” Harrison tightened his grip around you. You weren’t sure why, but you hands reached out to touch his forearms. He tightened at your surprising touch before relaxing slightly. You felt him kiss your head and you sighed lightly at this comforting gesture.

This was enough for Steven to understand his presence wasn’t wanted in the slightest. He said nothing, only walking away and refusing to look at either of you.

Once Steven was out of range, Harrison immediately dropped his arms. You turned, finally getting to take in his whole appearance. He was wearing a simple outfit of a hoodie and jeans, yet you couldn’t help but bite down on your lip. Even though it would take a little bit of time to adjust to his new haircut, your mind wondered what it’d be like to run your hands through his hair now. Not that he’d ever let you do that.

“You look like a fucking mess.” Ouch. The honest criticism stung. You probably needed to hear it; you just didn’t want to hear it from him.

You wanted to play it cool - possibly even snarky - like his words didn’t bother you. “I...like cheetos” You winced hearing the words leave your mouth. You couldn’t even register on the coolness spectrum.

He scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets. You expected him to walk away and leave, but instead he pulled out a tissue. Without warning, he began wiping the cheeto dust off your face as he grumbled how messy you were.

He was so close, brows furrowed as he rubbed off the orange residue. Your heart pounded as you watched him shake his head in irritation when he got the last of the grime. You nervously asked if he was visiting someone, expecting that he must’ve assumed that Tom was on campus or that he needed to speak with Kimberly for some mysterious reason.

Tossing the dirty napkin in the garbage, he shrugged in response. “Something like that.”

“Kimberly’s at work right now” you pointed out. Harrison stared at you with a blank expression. “Thought...You might want to know.” He said nothing, just continued staring. “And I think Tom’s shooting on some set so...Also not here” you added, flustered by his manner.

Harrison looked like he wanted to say something important, but he simply brushed off the thought. “Don’t worry about it.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment, both just standing in the awkward silence that currently consumed the space. There was a lot that you wanted to say - wanted to ask even - but you didn’t know where to begin.

“Tom’s getting worried” he finally spoke again now glancing at the pavement. “He’s asking about us.” Us? What did that mean?

“He and Emma...They’re being nosy. None of their business, really. But they’re afraid we might affect the group dynamic.” Oh. So that was it. “I think we should do what’s best for the group...Just pretend what happened didn’t happen.”

Oh. You weren’t sure why, but his words hurt.

You agreed quietly, nodding your head.

“We can just...Just go back to the way things used to be. Nothing but two acquaintances with mutual friends. That’s it.”

Oh. That comment felt like a slap in the face. Why though? It was smart to go back to the old days when things were so much simpler. You swallowed, trying to process everything. Why were you so upset? It wasn’t like he was being terrible, yet you were on the verge of crying. You sniffled, blinking back tears.

“Right. Sounds good” you agreed, voice slightly strangled.

“Okay” he nodded, finally looking at you.

“Okay” you echoed, your turn now to look at the ground.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asked. Was that what you wanted?

How could the two of you even go back to normal? Because now you didn’t hate him. You weren’t even sure how you felt about him.

“How do we do that?” You wanted to sound normal, like it was just a simple question with an easy fix. Yet your voice came out meek, strained, and so unsure of itself.

Harrison called your name, trying to get you to look at him. His expression softened as you continued sniffling, continuing to stare down. He called your name again, but you shook your head. You didn’t want to look at him when you felt so confused. Harrison let out a slow sigh before he took your hand, holding onto it tightly.

“Y/N, will you please look at me?”

When you finally turned towards him, he looked at you with a soft expression and a wistful smile on his face.

“We’ll just forget about Vegas, okay?” He made it sound so easy, like you could just dismiss those memories away without a care. “It’s like you said, right? ‘It didn’t matter to either of us’ so it should be fine.” He squeezed your hand, doing his best to comfort you.

“We’ll just go back to being Lil Skunk and Lil Shit. Things will...Things will go back to the way they were.” You weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself.

“It’ll be weird at first, but...That’s how it always is, isn’t it? Weird starts.” You nodded your head, not quite sure what he meant, but it sounded right. “Things will just...Fall into place” he concluded. You stared down at his hand still holding yours. Even though hand holding would be off the table again, this felt nice. It felt comforting with your hand in his. You wanted to savor this for a moment longer.

“Obviously I can see why you’d have worries. After all, I was...Really amazing that night.” You looked at him, cocking an eyebrow. Was he actually bragging? “I’m probably the best shag you ever had, and it’s totally fine that no one will ever live up to that” he joked.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Oh my God! Shut up!”

“It’s okay. You can admit it. I have that effect on the ladies. Apparently not even you’re immune to me like you thought.”

“Shut up, Lil Shit!” And just like that, the two of you were back to some sort of normalcy. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to know it was possible let go of the incident.

He finally dropped your hand, and your smile vanished. So this was it.

“You, uh, heading out now?” You weren’t sure why, but you wanted him to say no. You wanted Harrison to stay for just a bit longer.

He nodded his head. “Just have some business I need to take care of.” He leaned in and for a moment you thought he might kiss the top of your head again. Strangely enough you wanted him to. But he pulled away at last second, and you remembered that normalcy between you and Harrison didn’t include kissing.

“Take care of yourself, Lil Skunk.” Right in that moment, the nickname felt more loving than it ever had.

tags list: @sleepybesson, @tomhaz | @almostrosadiazz, @alt-ernativewonderland, @blackstarryroses, @butithasntkilledyouyet, @chims-kookies, @choke-me-sweet-pea, @deleteidentity, @divosterfields-deactivated20190 / @bbk8lin (?), @highladyjel, @hollandhearts, @jessiq31, @kateelyse96, @kayla-m1996, @mylifesucksbuthereiam, @otheenglishsetters, @sadnoelle, @sarcasticvodka, @sleepwalkingdragon, @soccerstud004, @spider-mendes, @thefallenbibliophilequote, @wolvesofthewinter

part nine

[gentlemanmendes]

Fanfic Fanatic

A/n: I write this ages ago and then tumblr deleted it so it's not as good but I still wanted to post it. 

warning: shameless selfpromo 

"Hey babe." Shawn greeted y/n as he threw his gym bag aside glad to have finally finished his work out and get some time to himself.

When he had gotten home he had been quite surprised by the fact that the place was so dark and had figured y/n was asleep but when he entered the room he found her tucked into bed with only the light of her phone illuminating the room.

"Hi." She mumbled as if on autopilot while she continued looking at her phone not even paying attention to her boyfriend which was rather strange. He switched on the light causing y/n to groan in response as he shuffled around the room getting ready to shower, and yet y/n's attention never left her phone.

"What are you doing?" Shawn asked curiously interested in what had caught his girlfriends attention hostage and wasn't letting her go.

"Tumblr." She responded causing him to sigh with an eye roll. Of course she was on tumblr, was she ever on anything else?

"Since you're always on tumblr I think I might join, if it's do interesting." He stated not really meaning it but at the same time wanting his girlfriends attention. This seemed to do the trick because for the first time since shawn had entered the room y/n's gaze left her phone and met him, an amused snort leaving her as she started at him in disbelief, her eyes gleaming with humour. This raised a defensive side of shawn as he questioned her with a confused 'what'.

"Nothing. It's just you couldn't handle tumblr babe." She laughed before turning her attention back to her phone. It retracted that he had lost his girlfriends attention yet again to a stupid app shawn left to go have a shower.

As he washed away the sweat from his work out and the efforts of the day and tensions it had brought along with it he couldn't help but replay what y/n had said over and over again. What did she mean by he couldn't handle tumblr? He could handle lots of things, he was positive he could handle anything, a stupid app would be nothing.

He shut off the water in the shower and wrapped a towel around his body before reaching for his phone on the basin. He would prove her wrong, besides y/n was always spending her time on tumblr so clearly it just be entertaining. His fingers worked quickly as he went into the AppStore and found the app before hitting the download button. While the app downloaded he took that as his opportunity to finish drying himself off before pulling on a pair of sweats and making his way out of the bathroom taking his phone with.

He got comfortable on his side of the bed before clicking on the app and began his work. Typing in his email address, ShawnMendes for a user name, and y/n1998 as his password. He clicked on the create account button only for it not to work. The username was unavailable, someone had that username already? Instead shawn typed in mendes1998 and that didn't work again. Every name he could think of was taken even y/nandshawnthehottestcoupleever had been taken. He typed in a random word and decided to settle when it worked.

Y/n was right, tumblr was a tricky little thing, he had struggled creating a username who knew what he would find now that he created an account.

He didn't know what to search and when he looked over at y/n he found her too busy scrolling, he would not give her the satisfaction of asking her for her help. Instead he had an idea, he would find the culprit that had stollen his name. He searched shawn mendes in the search bar only to be met with millions of fan pages and photos of himself. He liked a few and followed some blogs before he spotted something that caught his eye captioned 'Beauty behind the Madness.' By someone who went by the username gentlemanmendes, a great URL shawn had to admit.

He began reading the authors note where he found a link captioned 'previous chapters can be found here' and was taken to a page filled with a random list of titles with links to them. He would come back to those later, right now he was curious as to what beauty behind the madness was. He scrolled down until he found it right at the bottom. Twenty-five parts, that was a lot. Like any normal person he started with zero.

'"Shit he called the cops" breathed out Andy as we stared at the house next door. Although we had run out of the house over fifteen minutes ago my heart still thumped hurriedly in my chest. Before Andy had spoken all that could be heard was our heavy breathing as we stared out of my bedroom window at the house next door. Yelling hadn't stopped since we left. None of this was Arleigh's fault. She didn't ask for this. She didn't deserve this. Tears prick my eyes yet again as I remember the hurt in her eyes as I looked over my shoulder and ran. I left her and now I'll never get her back, as forgiving as she is. Yet I deserve nothing less.

The loud music coming from downstairs seemed so far away and blurred out. The guilt over taking everything inside me.

"He said he would" laughed Mitch. He's laughing. Not one ounce of shame or regret. I knew he was heartless but this was just too low.'

Who was Arleigh, and Mitch, and Andy? Why had someone called the cops? What was going on? Shawn had a million and one questions but he kept reading knowing that was the only way he would find out what was going on.

'I watched as Mr Axle opened the front door for the cops. He looked beyond furious as he spoke to the cops. They looked over at my house. Mr Axle closed the front door and stepped out of the house.

One of the cops said something to him which unwillingly made him reopen the door. As the cop walks into the house I realise he's going to check on Arleigh.

Along with the other cop Mr Axle makes his way to my house.'

A lump formed in shawn's throat. What ever this was it wasn't going to be good.

"What are you doing?" Y/n quizzed her brows furrowing together as she looked over at her boyfriend. Never had she ever seen him focus on something so intently.

"Shhh, I'm on tumblr." He huffed in response focusing on his phone. Whoever this gentlemanmendes was she had him hooked.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise at shawn's response before she backed away. She didn't want to know what this boy had gotten himself into.

For the next few hours shawn continued reading. His heart hurt at how sad some parts of the story was but he couldn't stop reading because he needed to know what fictional shawn had done to Arleigh. It was eating him alive inside, he would not stop reading until he knew.

Y/n had fallen asleep by now yet with ten more chapters to go shawn knew he wouldn't rest. He made sure to leave likes on every part because this gentlemanmendes was a talented writer and deserved to know it. He was amazed that one of his fans had such talent and was using it on him, they should get paid for being in his fandom.

"What the hell!" Shawn yelled so loudly that it woke y/n up.

"What's wrong?" She huffed annoyed turning over in her sleep irritated by the fact that she was awoken at two in the morning after she had only been asleep for a few hours.

"There's no more parts to read! I need to know what happens next. What about Arleigh? Is she okay? Mitch is a dick and shawn is kinda pathetic. If I were shawn I would beat me up." Shawn ranted. He needed to talk about this story to someone. So much had happened and his mind was racing with different scent ails. He needed the rest of it now.

Y/n's brows furrowed together as she let out a long huff. That's why he woke her up, because he needed the ending to a fanfiction.

"You'll just have to wait until she updates." Y/n explained wishing she had never opened her mouth this was all her fault.

"When will that be?" He asked like an addict.

"Shawn this may come as a shock to you but you're fans have lives." Y/n retired not bothering to hide her irritation. "Maybe send in a nice anon, that might motivate them to update more." And with that y/n turned over and hide herself under the blanket letting shawn know she was done with this conversation and going back to sleep.

Shawn did just that. He went onto gentlemanmendes page, made sure to hit the follow button before clicking on the message thing and typing up a message letting the writer know just how much he had liked the story though he highly doubted he would act that way in real life if the scenario ever took place.

What now? Shawn thought to himself. He felt like his whole life had been put on hold and he would now have to wait for this story to be updated before it continued. Who knew how long that would be.

Even though he doubted anything would beat beauty behind the madness he had to admit this gentlemanmendes was great and went back to the post labeled masterlist. He started from the top and worked his way down until he reached a piece called 'fun in the sun, smut'. Smut? What was a smut?