#❛ leave a message after the beep. ❜–– inbox.

[stxriesfromasharchive]

"Sure I'm a little stupid, but that's like 80% of my charm!" for bff emmett

WE'VE GOT MAIL

Meme: Tumblr Text Prompts From @pantslessoptimism For: Emmett

"A little stupid?" he jests, leaning over and using the top of her head as an arm rest. "You're definitely like if a koala and chihuahua had a weird hybrid baby - and that's like 95% of your charm, the other five percent being a flamingo that's attracted to shiny things."

[deepsix-writing]

Fix You. Chapter 1 of 5. (BEGINNING)

After the events of Marble Hornets, Tim is left to pick up the pieces of what is left of his old life. One piece in particular has him haunted.

(NEXT CHAPTER)

When Tim had first seen the hooded figure lying motionless on its back after falling off the balcony, he'd thought, good. Another puppet of the Operator down… one step closer to putting an end to this nightmare. He hadn't realized it was, instead, the beginning of an entirely new one.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message… or don't. Here's the beep.'

Never had Tim known the sound of a dial tone so well. His devotion to that voicemail inbox was as a priest to his god; He knelt in prayer morning, noon, and night, begging and pleading with whatever force it was that looked down on him from heaven to let him hear his best friend's voice just one more time. Steadfast in faith, he never stopped calling, never stopped hoping, even as the seasons changed and he did too. Even as the police came in search of missing persons, and went when they found nothing, Tim remained. His razor collected dust in his bathroom. A beard as thick as his misplaced hope had cropped up on his face.

The investigations had been particularly difficult for Tim, especially when detectives had shown up on his doorstep. For Brian's, he'd easily been able to shrug them off and convince both them and himself that the college student must have been off visiting family out in the west, or enjoying a break from classes by the coast. It was summer, and the benefit of the doubt was his seldom hope. He called Brian's number and let the voicemail play for the police once, then a million times more for himself after they were long gone.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message… or don't. Here's the beep.'

Then came Alex's. The film student had worked up a track record of unexplained disappearances already (something Tim relayed to the cops word for word), but Tim didn't have much else to say about him. The man had already painted the walls of Tim's mind with a noxious crimson; he couldn't bear to lose another shred of his regards to him. The detectives said they would keep in touch with Tim if they discovered anything new, and they went on their way. Tim let the sound of Brian's canned voicemail message fill the empty space in the meantime.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message… or don't.'

Time marched on. Tim marched on. In the mornings, he took his medicine, listened to the voicemail, and afterwards he went to work. Admittedly, the job he worked was a crappy one, but it was the first he'd managed to hold down in years. It would do. Tim would keep to himself and do just enough to get by until he was let off in the evening. Stopping by a gas station for cheap junk food on the way home was a mandatory part of the routine; he would do anything to prolong the inevitable sight awaiting him in his apartment.

He wades through the garbage of his overgrown and messy apartment after he wedges the door open and carefully locks it back up again. It is welcome procrastination for when he makes it to his bathroom and looks in the mirror. When he looks at himself, all he sees is blood.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message…'

His god is dead. Tim isn't sure how long he's been praying to a corpse, but now he's able to smell the rot. It fills his nose and makes it hard to think. When he looks in the mirror, all he sees is death.

A tidal wave of blood replaces the ringing in his ears. He grips the edges of his sink. He stares down a murderer. A brutal killer that single-handedly delivered the end to all of his closest friends. People who'd had rich lives and bright futures ahead of them.

Alex's last moments replay in his mind. His hands, the same ones that had gone white with how tightly he gripped the countertop, were the ones he had used to stab the film student in the throat and the image would never ever fucking leave him. Over and over, again and again until Alex was coughing and hacking and drowning in his own blood. The sound of a punctured windpipe was not one he would ever forget. The scene had smelled like metal and victory at an impossible cost. His hands had been stained red ever since.

It was a microscopic change, one Tim hadn't noticed at first, but he was certain the skin on his hands was a shade redder than the rest of his body. No amount of hand-washing or showers or even bleach would fix it, and no one at his crappy job had known him long enough to see the change like he did. But Tim knew. Tim could hold up his hand against his face and be able to tell. His hands were cursed by a near-transparent shade of crimson, and any time he looked at them, guilt burnt a hole in his stomach. His anxiety would be remedied with another replay of the voicemail that never changed.

It had taken Tim longer than he could proudly admit to figure out what that had meant for his former friend. Combing through Jay's online archive of footage to find out exactly who the hooded man was had taken even longer. It was like watching his brother's last moments on video after finding out he'd died the same night. In comparison, the voicemail was like hearing the voice of his patron saint.

Tim's faith dies in the middle of the night, when he lies in bed with a cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other. The device is perched over his head, shining down on his face as he calls Brian's number, listens to the voicemail, and hangs up.

'Hey. It's Brian…'

It's a neurotic dance he repeats until his eyes grow tired and he's just on the verge of sleep, and then…

"Uh, hello? Who is this?"

Tim dropped the phone on his face before he knew how to react. It fell in the crevice between his side and the bed, and it took him a frantic moment to wrench it out.

"Brian, Brian! Holy shit, are you okay? It's Tim. It's me, Tim! Are you okay?? What, What happened–"

"Woah, hey!" Tim realized it wasn't Brian's voice. "-I'm not – I just found this phone on the side of the road earlier. It's not mine."

Then it set in. Then something withered inside him. When his lips moved, it was a miracle.

"…Where on the side of the road?"

"Oh, just by Rosswood Park. So are you friends with this Brian guy? He probably wants his phone ba–"

Tim snapped his phone shut and never called the number again. Sleep did not come to him that night, and in the next few weeks they were as lovers on thin, frayed ropes. Circles as dark as his guilt weighed down his eyes. Thoughts he'd put behind himself years before came running to catch up with him.

Tim was dead. His hope was a flickering candle that had been tossed into the ocean. It hadn't stood a chance. He hadn't stood a chance. He only knew of one thing left to do.

He found that one thing in his car keys and in his drive to Rosswood Park and in the loaded handgun he'd stuffed in his pocket. He parked his car sideways in the lot overlooking the forest. The front end of the car dipped past the painted dividers, and usually he'd hate it when people left their cars parked like that. Every time, Tim would grimace and regard the sight as a result of the driver lacking common decency. But in that moment, it was the last thing he could have ever thought to care about.

It was funny, how one simple piece of knowledge had changed Tim's entire perspective on life. He had decided that morning would be his last, and just like that, the world had flipped on its head. The rising sun was brighter, the morning sky was prettier, and his bed had been warmer. He even felt like cooking a meal for himself that day.

Tim went to the store after showering and dressing himself in his cleanest clothes. He bought just enough ingredients for this one recipe, and he even bought dried rosemary. It came in a little glass bottle, and was a dollar and sixty cents more expensive than the store brand spices he usually bought. Every time before, his eyes had passed over it. He'd excused the idea of buying it despite seeing it as an ingredient in countless recipes because it wasn't worth it, the dish would taste just as good without it, it was a waste of money. But when he used it to cook his last meal that day, it was like finding the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle he'd tried to put together years ago. It was the best food he'd ever tasted.

In the park, the birds chirped like an orchestra catered to Tim's ears. It was late fall, and the golden hues of falling leaves orbited around him. Before he joined the barren trees ranks, he sent a text to his former manager. Dead men can't work.

For a dead man, his feet were sure and steady. He knew exactly where he was going: the same place he'd died once before. Its once pristine white walls were peeling, and it was covered in graffiti now, but it hadn't changed any more than Tim had.

At the hospital, Tim had learned how the world worked. You start out whole, and every time the world beats you down, it takes a piece of you. With every friend he'd lost, Tim lost a chunk of his soul. And when he'd killed Alex, he'd lost a bigger chunk than he could have ever anticipated. Tim knew he wouldn't have enough of himself left afterwards to survive losing anyone else.

He'd always tried to find those pieces. It was the only reason he hadn't split town the moment he'd had the chance. Tim's eyes had always been full of stars and the against-all-odds hope that one day he could find those pieces again. Or maybe, he'd thought, he could find them again in someone else. But that someone else was gone, now.

Whatever pieces that had left him had rotted and decomposed. They nourished the soil that crept up from the floor of his old hospital room and grounded the lichen that hung from the ceiling. Time could put the very foundations of the room to ruin and Tim would still feel the years he'd spent locked away here like the ache in his feet from walking all this way.

It was as fitting a place as any to die. Tim envied his younger self: back when his mind was his biggest problem, and not his actions. As he closed the half-hinged door and trailed his hands along the peeling paint of his coffin, he hoped and prayed no adventurous teenagers would come and run into his body until the next summer, when wild animals had taken the pieces of him that would be left behind. He didn't want this place to harbor any more trauma for anyone else. He would end that legacy here and now.

Tim pulled the handgun from his pocket. It was warm from resting against his thigh. He brought it up to his chin, then thought better and let the tip of the barrel press against his temple. But it felt wrong. Too dramatic, too highschool. The warm metal slid to the center of his forehead instead. But he couldn't grip the trigger as well, he started to think that instead he could-

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Tim assumed it was the dead man's manager, replying to the dead man's lukewarm resignation text. But why not read a dead man's phone while he still could? He let the gun rest against the side of his head as he pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open.

'Hey. I know it's been a while since we've talked and you're probably pissed at me (understatement I know) but I need a ride. Really really need a ride. I'm supposed to be gone by 4, so if you could be here by then, I'd owe you my life.'

The text was from a number he didn't recognize and was accompanied by an address for some place in downtown Tuscaloosa. Tim was just on the verge of clicking his phone closed, excusing it as meant for someone else, when the unmarked number sent another message and suddenly there was no air in his lungs.

'This is Brian btw. Lost my old phone.'

Tim's grip on the handgun's trigger turned to wrought iron in his surprise, and a loud BANG made the last piece of himself jump out of his body. His ears didn't have enough time to stop ringing before both his phone and gun clattered to the floor. His fingers shot up to his head and he felt dizzy when he pulled them back to reveal blood.

Tim fell down on his ass and suddenly there was a fire in his body that burned hotter than the pain in his head. He wanted - no, needed - to stay alive. Even if that text wasn't actually from Brian…

No, it had to be. Needed to be. Tim brought his hands back up to his head, clasping his temples and crying out in relief when he realized his skull was still intact. Blood and heat still poured from his head, but he'd managed to isolate the unknown injury to a graze mark along his left temple. It was enough to sting like a bitch when his fingertips met the open wound, but wasn't deep enough to reach the bone.

It was the second most profound miracle of the day.

The third was how he'd managed to get back to his car without anyone seeing the state of his face, and fourth was the first aid kit he had stuffed in his car. He'd bought it impulsively about a month after he'd started listening to Brian's voicemail recordings, just in case he ever ran across his old friend on the side of the road on his way to the store or work. He had always held out hope for that man.

Tim checked the clock. 3:24pm.

The address from the text message had to be at least twenty minutes away. Shit.

Tim's work of patching up his temple through the foldout mirror in his car was sloppy, and no neater was he when he stuffed his handgun into the glove compartment and jammed his keys into the ignition. The ringing in his ears was the only accompaniment to his wild thoughts as he sped down the road to meet the man behind the text that had given him a new lease on life.

The address turned out to lead to a neat little building just a few blocks from the not-abandoned, non-psychiatric hospital in downtown Tuscaloosa. The sign out front seemed medical, but through Tim's stinging temple and his racing thoughts and the fire in his gut, he couldn't read past 'rehabilitation'. Tim pulled his car into the lot by the front doors and his parking job is just as crooked as it was in Rosswood Park's lot.

He's about to leave the car, but confronting whatever lies in wait for him suddenly wrenches his heart back to the park. His head lurches and he is in his bedroom with his phone, hearing the stranger's voice through Brian's number.

A cigarette would help ease his nerves, he's sure, but a sign by his car advertising a 'smoke-free facility' discourages him. He settles with rolling down his window and alternating between resting his arm on it and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. It's an ineffective compromise.

Tim looks at the front of the building through the film of grime on his windshield and watches as people filter in and out of the front doors. Some are in crutches, others have casts. All are accompanied by medical staff in clean uniforms, all accompanied by smiles and kind, encouraging words. Tim wonders which of the staff fake their smiles, and which of them see their patients as less than human. He averts his gaze as he locks eyes with one of them, too scared he'll find thinly-veiled hatred for him, too.

When a skinny figure in a wheelchair exits the building with a nurse by his side, Tim does not make the same mistake of not recognizing his best friend. He is bumbling along the paved concrete at a snail's pace, struggling to get the wheels to move smoothly. The chair goes sideways every other inch he advances, but his clothes are clean and he is smiling.

He is smiling. Brian is alive and well and smiling and Tim is launching himself out of his car without so much as turning off the engine. Brian says something to the nurse and laughs and only has a fraction of a second to throw his old friend a surprised glance before Tim snaps up the space between them like a greedy animal and holds him tight. His arms squeeze Brian with no mercy until an awkward chuckle from the man threatens him to burst.

"Gh - uh. Happy to see you too, man." Brian's words are choked out through strangled breaths. "I'd hug you back, but uh– ok. I can't breathe."

Tim relents only a moment later when Brian starts wheezing, and when he peels himself away, his hand still lingers on Brian's shoulder. Wayward priest, meet your angel. Here to reunite you with your maker.

Brian is glowing, at least in Tim's mind. His clothes are cleaner than he's ever seen them, and even as Brian says something to him that he doesn't make out, he's smiling. It's that same stupid, cheeky grin he'd wear whenever he'd tell cheesy puns and jokes to Tim in highschool. Those upturned eyes that always looked towards the sun and would exchange glances with him that said a million words regarded him now with joy despite it all. The same fiery passion in his gaze and ice water in his veins was there now, even now that Tim had completely blanked out on his words.

"Uh… Tim? You alright?"

Brian's voice carries all of the same, and Tim is undone. A weight melts off his shoulders, but something holes itself up in his throat. All he can manage is a nod.

Brian exchanges a look with the nurse and looks back at Tim. Then, he laughs. The sound is a fire that burns away Tim's fear and anxiety and gives way to a giddy feeling he can't remember the last time he'd felt. He moves a hand up to wipe his face and sniffs. He hadn't realized how wet his face had gotten.

Then, he smiles back. He isn't sure if his words will hold, but he tests the waters anyways.

"I missed you, Brian."

I thought you were dead. I mourned for you. Grieved for you as if I'd watched the soul leave your body with my own two eyes.

"I missed you too, Tim."

Brian just smiles. And it's more than Tim could have ever possibly hoped for.

[mattuhoh]

Incoming call- Eddie Diaz

MISSED CALL. VOICEMAIL LEFT.

“Hi Buck, it's Eddie. Hope you get this, since the cell signals still seems a bit messy and stuff. I just wanna say thanks? For today, after work. You didn’t need to help me with Chris, and helping out with my car and getting us home after the quake. Just let me know if there is anything I can do to help make up for it, because I owe you a big one man.

Anyways, you have my number now. Thanks, again.”

END OF VOICEMAIL.

Delete?

Saved.

OR

Buck and Eddies relationship throughout the years, as told by their voicemail inbox.

[ghostoffuturespast]

Your Guide To The Archives...

Howdy, you can call me Ghost (she/her) and welcome to my digital haunting grounds!

Intro & Table of Contents below:

This blog’s been a lot of things over the years, but, as of right now, it’s primarily my repository for whatever catches my fancy. I refuse to make a sideblog, so if you’re not up for my mishmash of shenanigans, know that I’m not keeping you here. I’ve gotten pickier about who I’m following these days and don't always do follow for follow. Nothing personal, I just already have a hard enough time keeping up with people on my dash, but I know my regulars. I see you!

You don’t have to be a mutual or a follower to interact with me. I’m down for tag games and my inbox and messages are always open. (You can’t ask anonymously because I do require a return to sender address. If you want to chat in private DMs are available to everyone.) Almost all of my posts and reblogs are scheduled or queued. I may or may not be online but if you leave a message after the beep, I’ll get back to you eventually.

I like to keep it organized around here and prefer to tag my posts (weird notes included) for archival purposes. I batch queue stuff, so expect a delayed reaction on reblogs. If something’s not tagged it was probably an accident. I’m not great with buttons.

Tags

#little ghost on the prairie - Me out and about. Could be anything really but most likely it’s probably me standing in the middle of a field taking blurry pictures of plants or bugs.

#friday field notes - I work as a naturalist for my day job and this is a series of really informal posts about what’s happening out on said prairie.

#haunted - The eerie, the beautiful, the surreal. The things that stay with you.

#ghost's art - Various art projects.

#night city streets - VP related to Night City. Could be mine, could be someone else’s.

#from the top - My Cyberpunk 2077 VP collection. Lots of environmental shots and story photosets. All taken unmodded and unedited on PS5.

#oc: valerie hye jin li - My Cyberpunk 2077 OC. Corporate grunt-cog turned merc badass, aka the Notorious Stinky Grandpa V. Alternate tags are #my grandpa v and #stinky not fresh. (She’s got the personality of a grumpy old man, what can I say?)

Writing

Nothing Comes Before Night City (You'd never know just by glancing at this blog, but my second most obsessed about character is Mr. Blue Eyes.)

Part I - So It Goes - The completed first part of my CP2077 V/River Ward long fic. If you like epic length duologies, gritty slow burn neo-noir, vivid writing that waffles between prosaic and poetic, kickass action sequences, convoluted corporate conspiracies, copious amounts of angst, mind-numbingly large portions of smut, poetry references, and dumb jokes with punchlines pages down the road… Boy, have I got a referral for you. Tagged under - #fic: so it goes

Part II - Coming soon to a theater near you...

Les Préludes - Tangent short stories from the Nothing Comes Before Night City series universe. Stories will mostly be V or River centric, but expect a couple of surprise appearances.

Little House of Horrors - Unrelated one-shot horror stories set in the world of CP2077. Most of these feature original characters and plots but take their inspiration from the game world.

Fluff - The Garden - Shimmer & Shine - For something completely different.

Other Helpful Things

Cyberpunk 2077 Console/Vanilla Photomode Tutorials

Happy Hauntings, 🧡 Ghost

[mcyt-correct]

Martyn: You have reached the voicemail messaging service of Inthe-Little-Wood. Please leave your message after the tone

*beep*

Mumbo: Uh- Hi Martin! It's just me I just wanted to call just to-

*beep*

Martyn: Inbox full. Thank you for calling

[purplefangirl42]

Snowy Surprise

Summary: Finished with finals and about to head home for the holidays, you weren’t expecting Silco to gift you something so wonderful.

Pairing: Silco/GN!Reader

A/N: This was part of a gift exchange and written for the lovely @mmartos! Happy belated holidays Marty! Much thanks to @deny-the-issue for organizing this event 💜

Tags: Angst/Misunderstandings, School Stress, Modern AU, Missed Calls, Comfort/Fluff, Christmas/Holiday themes

AO3 Link

You let the door swing shut behind you as you entered your apartment, kicking the shoes from your feet and dropping the heavy backpack you were carrying on the floor. The few steps it took to get from the door to the couch seemed almost too much as you plopped down on your stomach. Exhaustion crept through your entire body now that it was no longer moving.

Whoever invented finals was either sadistic or a masochist.

Even thinking of the word finals drained what little energy you had left. The last one you had was today, and you weren’t even sure how you did. All the questions seemed to blend together after a while. Hopefully, it was at least enough to pass the class. You could live with that.

As if today wasn’t stressful enough, you had almost overslept. Also, you had forgotten to charge your phone the night before, which meant you had to leave without it this morning so it could charge. Not that you were expecting anyone to call or text you anyways.

You let out a pained groan as you sat up and lifted your tired body from the couch and trudged into the bedroom to retrieve your phone, just to check if anyone had actually tried to get ahold of you. Once the device came to life, you could see several missed calls and a few texts. Your brow furrowed in confusion, wondering who it was that tried to contact you so many times.

Missed Call- Suspected Spam

Missed Text from ex- Hey ;) 

Missed Call- Suspected Spam

Nothing important then.

You threw the phone down on the bed before following it yourself, bouncing a few times before settling in place on the mattress. Your eyes drifted shut and you laid there in silence for a few minutes, basking in the peace that came with the end of a stressful week. The hope that the weekend would be better lingered in the back of your mind.

Not likely.

Your phone let out a muffled beep from beside you, indicating that you had a new message. Expecting either another spam message or a desperate call for attention from your ex, you ignored it. A few minutes passed before it beeped again. Sighing, you opened your eyes and grabbed the device and turned on the screen once again. There were two new messages in your text inbox. 

Both from Silco.

You blinked a few times in surprise at the notification on the screen. You hadn’t heard from Silco in over a week. Not after you snapped at him on a particular stressful day. You had been attempting to study for one of your exams and he had tried to ask you something. It had been a harmless question, simply wanting your opinion on a Christmas gift for his daughter. Your response had been short and annoyed. When he asked what was wrong, you had only given him a snippy response before gathering your things and leaving his office.

Thinking back on it now, you wish that you had tried to call or text him later that day or the following one to apologize. He had been nothing but supportive during the course of the semester. Only for you to repay him like this. You turned your attention back to your phone as you opened the conversation.

I hope your tests went well. Call me when you get home, we have something to talk about. 

Jinx sends her greetings and says to give you a thumbs up. I’m not sure how to do that, so consider the message passed along regardless. 

You smiled at the fact that Silco didn’t know how to use emojis. That he even texted at all was shocking in itself. Although, it made him less likely to monologue as he would have to type everything out that he wanted to say. But, even in this shorter format, his words held weight. Only Silco could make the phrase “we need to talk” sound worse than it already was.

The two of you weren’t even together. Sure you spent a lot of time around each other and you had bonded with Jinx, but nothing had progressed past light flirting and secretive glances and smiles. You weren’t even sure exactly what he thought of you. For all you knew, you were just the person that served him his coffee that his daughter had gotten attached to.

Then why is he texting you about your finals? Why would he let you study for them in his office?

You weren’t sure about the answer to either question. Maybe you would find out when you talked to him. You threw the phone back down and stood from the bed. A shower was required before you did anything. Maybe a nap as well. It wouldn’t be beneficial to snap at him again because you were overtired. That would get you absolutely nowhere.

A few hours passed before you were alerted to another message on your phone. You blinked sleepily as you grabbed it off the table beside your bed. There were another two texts from Silco as well as a missed call and voicemail. 

I hope everything is well. Give me a call when you see this message.

I don’t know if your phone is off or you are ignoring me. 

You pressed on the voicemail to listen to what message he had left.

The fact that your phone rang and didn’t go straight to voicemail tells me that it isn’t off. I sent you several messages with no response. Either you haven’t seen them or you’ve decided not to reply.

There were a few moments of silence before he started speaking again.

I’m not upset about what happened the other day, I just want to see you. Please call me when you get this message.

It almost sounded like his voice hitched a bit when he said he wasn’t upset. You felt bad for not answering his earlier texts. It hadn’t crossed your mind that he would be concerned that you didn’t answer. Hanging up from the call with your voicemail, you immediately went to his contact and pressed call. It rang once before he picked up.

“So you do know how to use your phone.”

“Says the man that doesn’t know how to send a thumbs up.”

You heard a huff through the speaker. You were unsure if it was annoyed or amused. A moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“I was getting concerned.”

“Because I didn’t answer for a few hours?”

“I thought you might still be upset.”

“Silco…I’m sorry I snapped at you last week. I wasn’t upset, just over-tired and stressed. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I understand. I know this has been a stressful time, which is why I left you alone. I knew your last test was today, so I thought perhaps you would be ready to talk now that it was over.”

“Did you need something?”

“I have a surprise for you. I wanted to catch you before you left town to visit your family so I could show you.”

“Hence the urgency to get a hold of me.”

“Can you come by my office in about an hour?”

You looked at the clock on your bedside table. It said it was nearly 7 PM. You needed to eat some dinner and do laundry before you packed up to go home. The last thing you wanted to do was travel across town. But, you wanted to make things up to him for snapping at him. He had obviously done something that he wanted you to see, and given the blossoming feelings you held for the man, you would hate to let him down.

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to seeing you.”

You hung up after promising to be there on time. Grabbing some slightly nicer clothes, you spent a little time making yourself presentable. Before long, you were out the door and headed to the bus stop to catch a ride across town. When you reached Silco’s office building, you waved at the head of security, Sevika, as you passed her desk.

“What are you doing here so late?” she asked.

“Silco invited me. Said he had something to show me.”

You saw a small knowing smile on her face before she waved you off. You wondered what Silco had in store that would make Sevika smile like she knew a secret. You shrugged and got in the elevator to ride to the top floor of the building, where Silco’s office took up a majority of the space. When you stepped out of the elevator, you couldn’t believe your eyes. 

The lights in the office had been dimmed, allowing the multitude of twinkling white lights to illuminate the space. Small spotlights displayed small dots that almost looked like falling snowflakes on the walls and a fan allowed a cool breeze to sweep across the room. It was almost like you had stepped into an artificial winter wonderland. Something you had never experienced due to where you lived. 

“What do you think?”

You turned to see Silco leaning on the doorway to the smaller space where the private part of his office was. He was looking at you expectantly, awaiting your verdict on the scene surrounding you.

“It almost looks magical. I feel like I’ve been transported into a different realm.”

Silco let out a soft chuckle before pushing off the wall and striding toward you.

“That’s what Jinx said as well. The spotlight snowflakes were her idea.”

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“You said you had never experienced a snowy Christmas, so I wanted to change that. I couldn’t exactly make it snow for real, so I figured this was the next best thing.”

A wide smile spread across your face as you looked around the room once again. It was truly a sweet gesture. It was certainly more festive than anything you had seen. The displays in the shop windows never seemed to capture this essence and all the Christmases in your lifetime had been lacking the snowy aspect you saw in the holiday films.

“This was really sweet of you, Silco. Thank you.”

Silco came to a stop at your side and his lips curled into a genuine smile. Not the smirk you were used to or the disarming smile he offered when trying to intimidate people. It was full of affection, something you had only seen directed toward Jinx before.

“I’m glad you like it.”

When you looked up to meet his mismatched gaze, your eye caught sight of something hanging from the wood rafter above you. It almost looked like a sprig of mistletoe. Somehow you doubted that Silco had put it there. A certain blue-haired menace came to mind. One that enjoyed climbing amongst said rafters. 

Silco seemed to notice that you were looking at something and he followed your gaze to the secret plant above. His smile slipped a bit at the sight before he looked back down to catch your gaze again.

“I had nothing to do with that.”

In the soft lighting of the room, you could swear you saw a slight blush appear on his cheeks. You stepped closer to him and rose up on your toes, leaning in toward him. Your lips pressed softly against his scarred cheek for a second before you lowered your heels back down, moving away from him. 

“Can’t break tradition,” you said with a shy smile.

Silco stared at you, his good eye open wide in shock. You moved to take another step back from him and were surprised to find his hands grabbing yours with a gentle grip. You looked up at him, tilting your head in confusion.

“Silco?”

His shocked expression disappeared, the mischievous smirk you knew and loved replacing it. One of his hands released its grip on your hand and rose to your face. He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb passing softly across it.

“At least do it properly.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips against yours in a light kiss, his hand never straying from your cheek, keeping you in place. He pulled away after a few seconds, his eyes scanning over your face as if to gauge your reaction. 

It was your turn to stare at him in shock. While the winter wonderland had been a surprise, the kiss was even more so. It seemed like he did think of you as more than just a coffee deliverer. You weren’t sure what to do with that information. The only thing you could think to do was to smile at him again. 

“I’m proud of you for all your hard work these past few months. Despite your busy schedule, you always made time for both myself and Jinx. Words could never show how much I appreciate that.” 

“So you went with winter wonderland and a mistletoe kiss?” 

“The mistletoe was not part of the plan, but I can say that I didn’t mind its inclusion.”

“Neither did I.”

You rose up on your toes again and leaned in close to him. Your arms rested on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his neck. 

“Merry Christmas, Silco.”

This time, it was you that closed the distance between you, pressing your lips against his. His hands found purchase on your waist, pulling you even closer. Your lips parted again after a few seconds, foreheads still resting against each other.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

A/N: Give this a like, comment, and reblog and let me know what you think!

[drifting-rocket]

🗣️: a voicemail (can be super old)

"You've reached my inbox, if you need to reach me urgently, you should've just came and found me. Petrel if this is about your damn Koffings again, please fuck off. Leave a message after the beep~."

*beep!*

"Proton, I have something very important to discuss with you. I know you're busy with your contracts but please come see me as soon as possible. I think it's better we talk about this face to face rather than over the phone."

[sacredsanguine]

voicemails: a vignette (modern marvels. joesme, modern mafia au.)

"Hey, angel - hope you've had a good day. I just wanted to let you know I won't be able to call tonight, some last minute business came up for after the after-party." A sigh crinkles over the low latency of the voice-mail message. "But there's a redeye back home - set dress in five! Music! - so I'll catch that and see you first thing tomorrow. Give Ember a kiss for me. Love you. I'll see you real soon."

Sharp tone. One and a half seconds.

"End of message. To replay this message, press one. To mark for deletion, press seven. To return the message sender's call, press -"

---

Faint strains of Borodin colour an irritated voice, strings barely scratching through a low but imperative timbre. To quote an old interviewer: a voice as smoky as his hair, glistening with the same elegant sheen of well-wielded pomade and good taste. There is something of the Old Country's spirit in him, a keen spark burning through the adornments of his adopted country.

"Have some faith, dear boy. My family knows its capabilities - if she could not return, she would not be an Etoni. You see? Exactly. Yes - of course, very understandable. Please, feel free to stay there, much more convenient than going back and forth. Taran has also been...struggling with the sudden circumstances. The two of you would be of solace to each other, I hope."

The phone clicks onto its receiver. A second, crystalline voice echoes from a previously silent corner of the room: "Solace?"

"He is a deeply faithful boy." Clink: metal on porcelain. "Perhaps enough to make up for the wayward girl."

"Perhaps."

---

"There are no new messages. Previously saved message: Hey, angel - hope you've had a good day. I just wanted to let you know I won't be able to call to -"

Click. Dial. Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Sorry, the number you've dialed is disconnected or not in service." Click. Click. Dial. Ring. "Hi, you've just missed me. Leave a message after the tone and I'll be in touch."

Beep. Pause. Long breath. Click.

---

"Kitten, pick the fuck up." Car engines idling through thick glass pane. Ambient music; the scream of milk frothing. Click - metallic, alarm - cash register.

"The longer you take, the more rounds of chess I have to play with subpar pieces. Do not prove my parents right. Do not prove me wrong. Jesus."

---

Refrigerator hum. Click. Beep.

"Look, wherever you are, please just come back. Mom and Dad are losing their shit again. Please come back."

Pause.

"End of message. You have one new message and one saved message."

Whir.

"It's Kristi calling for Esme - I left a few messages on your cell. Call me back as soon as possible. We need to discuss the next show."

"End of message. You have no new messages and one saved message."

Whir.

"Saved message: It's me. He's saving this on the apartment voicemail in case you came here before any of us found you." Static silence. "We're looking. I'm looking."

Long silence. Beep.

"There are no more messages. To return to the main menu, press one. To play saved messages, press two. To hear or record a voicemail inbox greeting, press three. For more options, press seven. If you are done, you may hang up."

---

Ragged breathing. Ruptured lung - new tissue too thin. Pain or death: easy choice. Not new at all.

"Christ. She still going?"

"Mhm. Think we can set a new record. Broken at least five today - how many are there total, again? Go for a strike."

"Ha! Shit, I dunno."

"Bet she does. Hey, pretty girl - how many bones you got?"

One finger - bruised, swollen, caked with old blood - rasps up from the thick bundle of rope attaching wrist to wood. "Go fuck yourself."

Crack. "Bitch. Not so pretty now, huh."

Crack. Crack. Crunch. Buzz.

"Aww, that's cute. Who's Italian Delivery Slash Takeout? They've been calling for days. You must be a real loyal customer."

---

"Delivery for Joel Ryder."

Thud.

---

"Oh, Lord."

---

Click click click. Metallic. Bated breath. Shallow hurts less; no anticipation. Slice.

---

"Put the knife down. Now. Don't make this harder on yourself."

Click. Click. Metallic. Slide.

---

Cardboard unfolding: thick, stiff crinkle. Wet splash. One finger, severed. Gold chain unraveling - imprint of cross over two joints. Charm falls. Bubble wrap rustles. Black fur - crusty, dark - flakes.

Click. Whirr.

"Hey, angel - I just wanted to let you know -- whirr - Hey, angel - I just wanted to let you know -"

Paper unfolding. Soggy scrawl. "She's not so sweet without her heart. Five million alone at the airport, tomorrow 8 pm."

---

"Do not negotiate with them, boy. We have it handled."

Click. Clink.

"His disappointment will be dangerous."

"Ours isn't already?"

---

Slow, steady slide. Slice. Squelch. Sternum separates, silver flashes. Keloids bulge, swell like bark fungi after rain; clench.

The size of a pomegranate, glistening red and fatty, pink-streaked white. Silver flashes. Scream. Severed hand over snipped heart. They wet the stamp with the sweat off her neck.

---

"Hi, package for you. Yeah, it says to sign for it."

Scribble.

"Thanks! Enjoy."

Pause. Study. Slice. Unfold. Gasp. Thud.

Heart, one ventricle slashed, folded into the gentle grasp of a hand missing one finger. Fresh. Slowly oozing. Chipped nail polish: glossy sheer gold.

Laminated paper. Blood streaks over plastic, black twelve point serif. Left the ring finger for you, if you still want it. Fido says thank you for the delicious dinner. She didn't go down quick.

---

"Fucking bitch is right."

Spit. Cold eyes roll back. Viscera underfoot: squelching. Stolen jacket rustles. Cold metal on mangled muscle, burst blood vessels under skin like poison nebulae. Two shots; all business. Broken nails on tempered glass screen; quick taps.

Tap tap tap. Ring. Ring. Beep.

"Oh ye of little faith. I want steak and soft-serve when I get back."

Tap. Heartbeat of hesitation. Sharp crack. Plastic snaps. Tap tap tap. Ring. Ring.

"Hi, this is Courtney at--"

"Tell the angels there's a sinner crawling out of hell to get back to heaven."

Beep. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Footsteps fading fast.

[ilyuu-archive]

@tartaglia-apologist just know that i see your ask and that i am currently leaving you inboxed as a sign of my affections for you 🤭🤭,,,,, leave a message after the beep

[gemmaisabelle]

time as a construct eludes me and thus i cannot be bound to its passing . pls do not leave a message after the beep . my inbox contains nothing but ghosts . you will whisper to the static and it too will be lost . your communication translates to electrical humming and i cannot comprehend its buzz . i am deaf . i am mute . and my notifications are muted . forgive me .

i do not ghost purposely i just have no idea what to say ever

[khaotic-entity]

Inbox full.

beep beep beep, your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system [NULL] is not available right now. please leave your message after the tone, BEEP

….hey…its me. im…im calling again. i know i know, i haven't called in awhile…thinks have been weird with me. allot has been happening…but enough about me. what about you? how have you been…i-..i hope things are good where you are. i hope…i hope you are happy. wherever you are. his voice weavers a bit i-…im doing ok at least.. sniffle sorry, just..some dust. im alright. i made some friends. some new friends. blissful. azure…blueberry and the others, so i cant say things have been going terribly…youre plants are still alive…ever since you went away ive taken up watering them for you, they are standing tall for you. and im trying to take care of myself too…i try to groom myself. I try not to be too violent…I try….its just-…it hard. its so hard to do anything…i have to grapple with so much…but what makes it the most difficult…is having the grapple with the fact, deep down. i know youll never pick up this phone. youll never answer on your end…ill never again hear your voice from the other side, sniffles deepy and sobs lightly i miss you….i- i just….i love you…call me back later…. sniffle….

… …. …. Error - Message not sent - Recipient mail box full - try again later

[perfectionist-prince]

C, E, M?

( * VALENTINE’S DAY ALPHABET ! ) || C - Chocolate: Does your muse like chocolate? Which one is their favorite?

// Siegbert enjoys sweet things, but they’re not his favorite thing in the world. As far as chocolate goes, he prefers semi-sweet or dark chocolate, but only if it’s on its own; chocolate confectionaries (chocolate cake, chocolate tarts, chocolate pudding, chocolate mousse, etc.) are a no-go for Sieg. (Though he can’t turn down a good brownie.)

E - Embrace: Does your muse like hugs? What are their hugs like?

Siegbert likes hugs, but only from those he loves and trusts. If a stranger were to embrace him, he’d grow incredibly uncomfortable incredibly fast; if any of the Fates cast try to hug him, he’d return it, but wouldn’t quite melt into it and he only allows it to last a few moments; if his parents hug him, it’s like he’s nine years old again and absolutely clings to them for as long as they’ll allow (there have even been times where he’s lifted his mother off the ground from how excited he gets when hugging her). As for a lover, he’s incredibly affectionate towards them, so they get hugged frequently. Always a tight hug, always burying his face against them in some way.

M - Moonlight: What is your muse’s ideal date? Where, with whom, etc.?

Siegbert has never been on a date before, ‘cause, y’know, he’s Siegbert. But, as far as ideal dates go, he’d love nothing more than to be able to sit outside and watch the stars, curled up on a blanket in the midst of an open field.

He’d also be elated to simply have tea with someone and have that considered a date, really. As far as courting goes, he’s easy to please.

(As for ideal people, well... :3c)

[princehendir]

Hi, I really hope you don't mind, but I used this link just now and I want to describe in more detail how the tool works, and the process of calling, in the hopes that that will decrease hesitancy for people and make them more likely to call.

This is all explained again in clear instructions through the link (there are more scripts in there too), but what the linked website does is take your name and address (so that the service knows who to connect you to), and then you put in your phone number, and the service calls you. It takes about 30 seconds for the phone to ring, maybe less.

After you pick up an automated voice, like the kind used by telemarketers, will repeat the instructions on the webpage, and then ask you to press * to be connected. I didn't get a person for any of my three calls, and I never have while calling my reps in the past, so I can't tell you how that goes, but i will tell you that leaving a message with your rep's offices is exactly the same as leaving a voicemail anywhere else. You get their recorded message, possibly it may ask you to press a number to be put through to a specific line, and after the beep you start talking. Just press * instead of hanging up when you're done so that the service can put you through to the next office. Don't hang up until you've done the third call with your house rep.

Whole process took about ten minutes.

Some bullet points:

Have your script out in front of you in some way. What I did is I had the site open on my laptop while talking on my cellphone.

It's ok if you don't say the full script as long as you hit the key points. I ended up cutting the last two whole sentences off of the script in my first call bc i got freaked out and hit the button too soon, but it doesn't matter because i hit all the key points. I'm calling about Israel and Palestine, the senator needs to call for a ceasefire and a withdrawal of military aid/the representative needs to join Rep. Bush and Rep. Tlaib in calling for a ceasefire, this issue is important enough to me that I will withhold my vote and future donations over it. These are the kinds of things that whatever staffer who ends up listening to your message/takes your call will write down to pass along up the chain. Just hit as many of those points as best you can

You don't have to worry about or use any of your energy up on "sounding natural". It does not matter if you stutter, or pause, I did a lot of both. And it really does not matter if you sound like you're reading off a script, most people who call their reps are, it's expected. Again, what matters is that you said your name, what you're calling about, what your position is, and that it's a key issue for you.

If the inbox is full and you can't leave a message, send an email. There's a link on the site for that too.

I did this on my break from work. If you have a break coming up do it then. Do it as soon as you're off work. It does not take long, and while it may be difficult, stressful or scary (my nervous system is still lit up, personally) it is not harmful to you, and it genuinely does make a difference. You should do it.

‼️URGENT‼️

Everyone in the US, please call congress right now. I’ll leave the info and a script below. Customize your message however you want.

And please share this everywhere. We need to help Gaza immediately.

If you don't know what to say, you can use this.

“My name is _____.

I am a constituent of _____.

First, I would like to let you know that my future vote and donation will depend on your action in this matter.

We need an immediate ceasefire in Gaza.

Israel is committing a genocide, and we will not stand for this.

Call for a ceasefire and allow the necessary humanitarian aid to enter Gaza.

Thank you.”

[hangdogbanner]

B r u c e . W a k e u p , y o u l i t t l e s h i t . R i s e a n d s h i i i n e .

   “ no banner. hulk take message. “

[vexhub]

™ x 100

✯ ’ ™ ’ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ'ᴍ ǫᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ ?? | ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛɪɴɢ

     Oh, such sweetness, from one of my FAVORITE people.      Honestly, I have adored getting to know you, Feather.      I try so hard to bring quality to my portrayal’s && you      do it so well yourself, really. Thank you for the support,      friendship && over all, enjoyable content c:

[bartxnhood]

need you now | c.h

calum hood x reader

summary: calum wonders if you think about him as much as he thinks about you.

part two to this. but can be read alone

warnings: angst, drinking, smoking, language, but happy ending !

a/n: everyone give my friends in slaysos gc a round of applause for helping create this masterpiece. hope you guys live this as much as i do. also i’m not a party person, literally never been and don’t plan so if i get some things wrong, oh well. this is pure fiction LMAO enjoy !

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2022 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

“hey, it’s y/n. sorry, i missed your call, leave a message after the beep. bye!”

“hey, uh, it’s me, just been thinking about everything tonight and i don’t know… i just miss you so much. call me when you can. bye.”

calum was a tragedy. every night he would be out partying or at a bar. since the breakup, his addiction to partying had only gotten worse. he couldn’t remember much in the past two months. he had been partying so much, it was killing him. he’d call you when he was blackout drunk some nights, confessing how badly he had messed up and how he regrets everything. other nights, when he isn’t so drunk, he’d still call, apologizing for the drunk calls.

he was spiraling down a deep dark alley, and if he didn’t fix himself now, he’d never see the light again.

he didn’t know he continued to party and drink so much. but, he continued without thinking about the consequences. even if he knew how bad he was under the influence.

some nights were worse than others.

one night it got very out of hand.

it had been hours since the party had started and calum had one too many like he usually does but tonight was different. he was angry. angry at himself for letting you slip from his hands, angry he treated you like gum on the bottom of his shoe when he should’ve treated you like the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

they were hearing the same sappy story about how he regrets everything. luckily, everyone had left before his breakdown happened.

luke sat with his head hung, rubbing his temples. “calum, you’ve had too much. cmon man. just go to bed and we will clean up. it’s almost five a.m”

“oh fuck off, luke. you try to act like this savior but in reality, you just ruin everyone’s lives.” he belted, throwing the infamous red solo cup at him, and letting the drink spill. “cal, someone is here for you” someone said, standing at the patio door.

his eyes shot up, “is it her? is it y/n?”

“i don’t think so”

his eyes fell, of course, it wasn’t you. you swore off parties and hadn’t attended one since halloween. but when he saw miya appear, rage encapsulated him. “now why in the hell are you here?!”

she looked the same as she did that night they met when miya tried to make a move on him that few parties you didn’t show up to. of course, it hit a nerve. and so, he was yelling at her for even thinking about showing up. “cal, you’re being a bit over dramatic, dont ya think?” he hand trailed over his shoulder blade but he pushed her off. “don’t you touch me. you know what you did.”

it was getting out of hand now, calum was screaming his lungs out at miya while she just stood there, finally luke called the one person he knew who would help. you.

“hey, y/n, i’m sorry it’s so late…well early but calum is drunk, very drunk. can you come to get him? he’s causing a scene.”

“what? oh, jesus christ. yeah, i’ll be there in ten” you shut off your phone, immediately hopping out of bed and finding the closest hoodie and sweatpants then running out of your apartment.

your heart was racing, the drive was a blur. trying to get there as fast as you could to prevent another fight. of course, you still loved him. you were still in love with him, currently. you listen to every message he ever left on your phone.

your inbox was full of them.

you heard every heartfelt confession, every drunk apology, each sober apology.

of course, you still loved him.

you never stopped.

“thank you for coming.” luke swung the door open letting you slip inside, then walked through the trashed house. “he’s back here.” you looked through the patio doors, seeing where he was pointing, and then you spotted him, with her. miya. everything froze in time, luke was no longer there, and everyone else disappeared.

you pushed the door to the side, stepping over crushed cans and cups to his side. “calum?” your voice was small, not sure how he was responding to your sudden appearance if he’d lash out at you or fall silent and walk away.

he picked his head up, eyes locking with yours. calum stops whatever nonsense he was doing, which by context clues, you could guess he was having another drunken tantrum. he stares at you in disbelief, was this happening? are you actually standing in front of him? was he dreaming?

“y/n?”

he says your name and you ask him "cal, what's going on?" and his eyes glaze over a little bit just from hearing the concern in your voice. it was genuine concern, any drunk person could see it. not just him.

he only blinks in response, trying to figure out the situation. he just can't believe you're there at his party after you have sworn them off and it's for HIM. not anywhere else, but his house. he repeats, “y/n” a few times before his arms are wrapped around you and holding you tightly. he couldn’t let you slip away again.

you just let it happen and hug him back saying, "hey i'm here it'll be okay" and trying to calm him down. despite your best efforts, he pulls away looking at you. taking everything in. but you saw everyone staring at the two of you. including miya, who looked like she had a lot to say in the moment. you saw the anger burning in her eyes and hid her chest turned red.

you saw luke who was about to say something, so you put your hand out to stop him shaking your head silently.

you knew calum was feeling bad, so you opted to take him upstairs. “hey why don't we get you upstairs and into bed?" you gently held his arm and that calms him down. he let you lead him inside, away from the party. you stop to talk to one of the boys on your way in explaining you're gonna take him to bed.

“thank you for calling me. i’ll get him situated and come back to help you clean up.”

so you take him upstairs, trying your best to hold him up. calum was mumbling incoherent words as you guided him to the bed. and after doing the usual drunken cleaning up and caring for him like you used to, you took a step back. anxiety consuming your body, and confusion. but, thankful his friends called you.

you’ve read stories in articles about his nonstop parties, and the drunk scenes he made. he was a wreck. but, that’s how he was coping. you, on the other hand, have been the opposite, staying in every night watching sappy movies, crying yourself to sleep most nights, losing an appetite, and making excuses not to see sierra or crystal. isolation was the only way you could cope.

standing at the side of the bed, looking down at calum who was in an out of consciousness you begin to rub the bridge of your nose out of anxiety. your heart was racing, at loss for what to do. calum opens his eyes and sees this and starts getting upset again. he feels guilty that you had to go to another party for him, he rubs his eyes before speaking, “you shouldn’t have come. y’hate parties”. you drop your hands, “i had to. i was worried.” he saw it in your eyes, you were being genuine. “you’re scaring me, cal” by now, tears began pooling in your eyes, you took a breather trying to calm yourself.

knowing he's extremely drunk and emotional, you try to get him to bed without admitting to anything or saying something you don't actually mean. “scaring you?” he breathed, watching as you tossed his shoes to the floor. “yes. you’re killing yourself. im not just gonna sit by a key you do that”. maybe you were being a bit too emotional now, so you looked away trying to get your thoughts in order and finish getting him ready for bed. if he decides to sleep.

once you get him situated you left the room for a bottle of water. he probably wouldn’t notice you were missing. no one was left except luke and ashton, picking up the litter from the party. they all looked up in your direction hoping for any news but you just shook your head and left it at that.

you returned, half opening the bottle and sitting it next to him. calum is kinda staring at you in awe. he says "you’re always the one taking care of me and i never deserved it. you deserved so much better than me." knowing he's extremely drunk and emotional you didn’t let it get to you.

you look down chewing on the inside of your cheek. don’t let him do this to you, y/n. you kept thinking, he was drunk he didn’t mean anything. you stand up to leave, wanting to go home and scream into your pillow because he misses you so much. he reached for your hand, holding it so carefully, and spoke "stay with me.” you freeze, turning your head and you look torn so he adds "please? just tonight." while looking into your eyes and looking desperate.

so, you stayed. laying on the opposite side of calum, you heard his breath steady assuming he was finally going to sleep. until you heard “i love you.” you had only hoped that if you were still he’d leave it alone and would just go to sleep. but he continued. “when i left that morning, i didn’t stop. i never did. you’re my whole world, and i hate the person i’ve become. i wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, but i screwed it up.” your heart was racing, picking at your nails you felt him shuffle next to you. “you were the best thing i’ve ever had and i let you go. ‘m sorry. you can hate me. i understand.” you waited a bit, but that was the last thing he said for the night.

you end up leaving before he wakes up, it was breaking daylight by now and you didn’t want to be there when he woke up. before leaving, you stood above him he looks so peaceful. naturally, you bent down and pressed the softest kiss on his forehead then exited the room. so, by eight a.m you were gone. on the way home, you have a small breakdown realizing the love was still there, and seeing him so vulnerable made your heart ache. but, you kept reminding yourself he was drunk. he probably didn’t even mean half the words he said.

later in the day, you had just finished your meeting now standing in your kitchen fixing a cup of coffee, until you were interrupted by a rhythmic knock. you sat the cup on your counter and walked over. but when you opened the door, calum was the last person you were expecting. “hey.” he said, stuffing his hands into his jacket. you stepped back, then saying “why are you here?” calum looked around. you hadn’t changed anything since he left. he didn’t know why you would change anything, but he expected at least something out of place. he shrugged, “i just wanted to thank you for last night, and everything.” you sighed, “come in” you stepped to the side and let him enter, then closed the door behind him. “do you want some coffee?” he sat down on the sofa, where the last fight happened. ouch.

“sure.” he answered, looking around the room. you came back with a black mug and handed it to him, and took your seat across from him.

his comment was abrupt. “i meant what i said, you know.” you looked up from your coffee, to meet with his eyes already looking at you. “what?” you blinked, placing the mug on the table. “last night. everything, i meant it. from me still loving you, to wanting ti spend the rest of my life with you. i meant every word.” he was being sincere, he held eye contact as he spoke and didn’t break it once. truthfully, you didn’t know what to say. the situation wasn’t ideal, and to be honest with yourself you knew you still loved him. “calum..” you finally spoke, followed by a long sigh and dropping your head into your hands.

“then why do you continue to do this? you’re drinking yourself to death, cal. how can i trust that you won’t do it all over again, even if i want to work this out?” calum contemplates, he sits back on the sofa searching for the right words. "i get drunk to forget the color of your eyes and the way your hair falls and how soft your skin is and the way your smile makes me feel; but it seems like the alcohol can't change my memory of you." he sets his mug down before saying, “i do it because it’s the only way i know how to cope and i know it isn’t the best way, but it’s all i know.” you crossed your arms, chewing on your lip. “and if that isn’t enough just tell me, and i’ll leave for good and you can go back to hating me.”

“i don’t hate you, calum. i was hurt. i could never hate you. not after everything we’ve been through” you rebutted. his eyes lit up. “you don’t hate me?” “no, i don’t. i could never hate you, cal” you saw him carefully reach for you hand and you let him. “y/n, i promise i’ll never do that again. i love you more than you’ll know. so please, just one more try?”

four months, three days, one hour.

that’s approximately how long it’s been since the wedding. since the day you both said ‘i do’ .

one year, four weeks, two days.

since he was at your doorstep apologizing for everything he had ever done to you.

you give him another chance, and it was the best thing you’ve done. he promised to love and cherish you forever. and he did exactly that.

the patio was decorated with fairy lights, faint music coming from inside and the two of you dancing to the music. he was humming quietly to the song, which was your first dance at the reception. “you know what?” he said to you.

“what?”

his hand on your back held you tighter. “you’re my favorite person, y/n.” he felt you chuckled softly, pulling your head from his chest. “yeah?” he nodded, “yeah.” he kissed your forehead.

“i’ll love you forever, even when i can’t.”