#I don’t deserve anybody idk what I’ll do when she opens her eyes and thinks wow I wasted how much time talking to a literal husk of a person

[chibelial]

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[thetoadghoul]

Volunteering: (Ohtani x Reader) <333 (Part - 2)

part 1!

plot: Wednesday’s game arrives which Ohtani invited you to, some bonding time before the first pitch <3 slowwwburn, long cause idk details are fun lol

Wednesday quickly arrived, made much faster by the crazy amount of work you were required to do for your ‘actual’ job. The last three days had been spent with you running around the LA area, as well as cyberspace, to serve your role as interpreter. It was hell, for more reasons than one. The biggest of all being that even though you were not in Japan at the moment, you were still required to wear a proper suit. That meant a tight navy skirt, stockings, and some blasted heels. Sexist men, long meetings, and endless paperwork aside, you enjoyed your job for the most part - but this aspect really wore on you. However, the pain in your feet wouldn't damper your excitement for tonight’s game. Today you were not actually volunteering at the Angels stadium.

The day before yesterday, when you were actually volunteering, a bashful Ohtani had tapped you on the back while you were picking up baseballs from the batting cages. When you turned around the giant man was holding out a lanyard with an attached document, marked ‘VIP Guest of Player’. It took all you had not to let your hands shake with nerves as you reached out and grabbed it gingerly.

“Uh, see you on Wednesday.” The man looked to the side awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

“...Yeah.” You responded with a small smile, feeling stupid, but it was all you could think of.

“Well, uh, I better go...” He motioned behind his back with a lazy thumb, staring to jog backward.

You nodded quickly, rushing to go back to picking up balls before you said something super lame, or weird.

It wasn’t till you were on the way home did you take a look at the back of the stadium pass. It read ‘Guest of Shohei Ohtani’. So he had put in the request for you, that was just like him, so kind. It would be an understatement to say you weren’t excited for tomorrow.

-----

Currently, your heart was still racing, but for another reason other than a certain super cute and insanely talented baseball player. It was because it was almost three-thirty in the afternoon and you were running around your company-provided apartment, trying to get ready as fast as you could. Ippei let you know you should get there around four-thirty, by then the team would have been done warming up and starting to enjoy a pregame meal while the away team got the field to themselves. From that point onwards, pretty much everyone was free to relax in the clubhouse till just before the first pitch.

With little time to consider, not even enough time to take a shower after having just got off work, you went with an oversized red T-shirt, baggy jeans, and some cool Jordan’s. This was your go-to, and it was comfortable. You don’t have many clothes anyway, living out of a suitcase.

Right as you were about to run out of the door you remembered to grab your standard Angels cap, it had been provided to you as part of your volunteer uniform a while back, slipping it on over your tight work bun. You would let your hair down later.

All right, everything was in order, Uber scheduled, lanyard secured.

It took about half an hour to arrive at the stadium, and once it came into view, you instructed the driver to let you out in front of the ballpark entrance. It had been a long time since you got to go through the gates as a member of the audience, it actually gave you a wave of nostalgia seeing everyone in their gear, so hyped up for the game, tailing gating outside for what was probably hours.

Once you were through, you started walking through the concession stands and various other stalls, dodging around the fans that were already inside watching the warm-ups, as well as hanging out drinking and eating. There were pictures of Ohtani everywhere, people taking turns snapping pictures of each other in front of the various cutouts of him. The air was buzzing with energy, and it seemed like all for that guy. Honestly, you had worked for a couple different teams over the years, but you had never seen hype like this. It was surreal, seeing a legend in the making.

You smiled, gripping the lanyard around your neck, making your way through the stadium. Shohei was super nice to do this for you, really, you should show him your support. Maybe a quick peek in the team store would do? Plus, you deserved to spend some money on yourself. After all, this was the first time you had really been ‘out’ in the almost three months you had been in California. Your free time was either working, volunteering, video games, or sleep.

You took a couple moments in the Angel's merch shop, quietly perusing the aisles, keeping an eye out for any Ohtani-themed items. Unfortunately, there weren’t really that many, probably sold out by the fans. What was there, was way too small for you.

“Y/n, you here to watch the game?” A young voice sounded.

When you turned to see who addressed you, a familiar girl was standing there grinning.

“Hey Jordan! I didn’t know you were working tonight.” You grinned back.

Jordan worked at the store as a stock manager, she was close in age to you so the two of you often hung out. You had invited her over a couple times, both bonding over your love for crappy reality TV, beer, and of course, baseball.

“Yeah it was last minute, a girl was feeling sick and there wasn’t anyone else cept’ me.” She sighed.

“Bummer, text me if you need help?” You offered, to which she waved you off.

“Nah, you enjoy being here and NOT working.” She chuckled, walking over to organize a messy shelf.

“So, you looking for something in particular?” The girl glanced over her shoulder.

“Uh yeah, you recommend any cool Ohtani stuff? Or is there any at all... seems wiped clean in here.” You said while looking around.

“Ohtani? You here to cheer him on too then. Wanna catch his eye.” She teased.

“Don’t say it like I’m just here for my like, prince charming.” You snapped back playfully, but, maybe a little too fast.

“Aren’t you?” She pressed with an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’m leaving.” You pouted, fake walking away.

“I’m just kidding, actually, stay here for a second I might have something you’ll like.” Jordan yelled as she jogged off to the back room behind the counters.

You did as you were told and when she came back there was a large white Angels jersey in her hands.

“Ta-da!” She grinned, twisting it around to show the player’s name on the back.

“Oh, it’s in Kanji? That’s cool, I didn’t know these existed?” You questioned, running your finger over the ‘tani’ character of Ohtani.

“It’s the last one on the floor, had to grab it off the mannequin. Hope it’s not too big? It’s XL?” She questioned, passing it to you to hold.

“Nah it’s perfect, can’t you tell.” You joked holding the jersey next to you, while you showed off your oversized clothes.

“Figured it'd be fine, wanna get rung up? I’ll give you that ‘good good’ employee discount. But, don’t tell anyone.” She smiled, heading to the register, to which you nodded and jogged after her.

After you finished your purchase and waved bye to Jordan, it was time to head to the clubhouse. It was around five, so you were later than you planned but Shohei usually practiced batting in the cages a little while longer while everyone headed in. Slipping the plastic shopping bag into your purse, and ripping the tags off your new jersey, you slipped it on over your T-shirt, smoothing out the material as best you could. It felt great to finally have some real merch from the team, and part of you sort of wondered what Ohtani would think when he saw you. Hopefully, it wasn’t too much to just show up in his gear after he pretty much randomly invited you, let alone in the stadium-specific one, as you just learned from your colleague.

After you got to an employee-only doorway, you pushed on it hoping it was actually open. Ippei had also let you know via text that it would be unlocked for you. Another kindness of Shohei, not just inviting you, but making sure you had access to all the catering and AC inside the resisted area of the building. You slipped in and locked the door behind you, not wanting to encourage some intoxicated fans to follow. The hallway was empty and cool as you started making your way to the clubhouse.

You were admittedly a bit nervous by the time you got to the doors, feeling a bit awkward about strutting in as anyone other than a volunteer for the first time. Carefully you pushed open the door, making sure not to hit anybody. The room was full of chatter, some players eating, some playing cards, others watching TV on the room's monitors. You looked around for Ohtani, but he wasn’t there yet apparently. No matter, you strolled in and went for the snack area. Truthfully you hadn’t eaten since that morning, and that was just a toasted bagel. Turning your back to the rest of the room, you began filling up your plate with cocktail shrimp and grapes.

“Nice jersey.” Ippei said, coming up next to you, grabbing small sandwiches for his plate.

“Is that sarcastic?” You questioned with a smile, finishing your plate.

“Nah, I’m sure he likes it.” Ippei jerked his head to the left.

He? You leaned back to see around the man, meeting Shohei’s surprised face almost immediately. Had he been standing there the whole time? He had obviously been staring at your back, at his name, bashfully looking up to your face when you moved, blinking a couple times to clear his eyes.

“I uh, got it ten minutes ago.” You grinned awkwardly, pointing your thumb proudly at the jersey, hoping he wouldn’t think you were a weirdo.

The large player didn’t say anything, blinking more slowly this time before opting to just nod gently, with a quick “thanks for your support”, hurriedly leaning forward to start filling his plate with all kinds of foods.

—-

Once everyone had their food the three of you found a place to sit while you ate, it was at the back of the room away from the noise, and where the two usually sat before a game anyways. A small conversation started while the three of you ate calmly.

“Why... do you only have grapes, and shrimp?” Ohtani questioned suddenly, looking at your plate baffled. You looked down at it as well, pausing for a moment trying to find out what was so weird about that.

“Uh, well, it’s because... these things are... super expensive in Tokyo. It’s like a rich person food to me.” You smiled, eating a couple shrimps happily.

“Wow. That’s so sad.” Ippei chuckled before taking a bite of his sandwich.

Shohei on the other hand burst out laughing at your response, making you laugh a bit too at your pitiful confession.

“Seriously, I feel like a mega-rich, and very posh, Ginza lady right now - eating nothing but shrimp and fruit. So fancy right? ” You exclaimed, popping a grape in your mouth.

The Japanese player laughed even harder, tears building up as he wiped his eyes.

“Those people wouldn’t touch that stuff with a three-meter stick.” Ippei stated, letting out a small laugh.

“Just let me have my moment.” You pouted through a smile, shoving more shrimp in your mouth.

The other man calmed down finally and was now sitting there smiling while he ate.

“So, fancy y/n, are you okay to sit in the dugout tonight. Not too unrefined for you?” Ippei questioned with a smirk.

“That’s, allowed?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah, if you want to. Can’t stay there the whole time, but.” The man responded nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s the best place to hear, ‘the surprise’.” Shohei added, food in the process of being shoved in his mouth.

“Well, doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.” You smiled at the player, who nodded in acknowledgment.

“He’s batting first tonight, you won’t have to wait long.” Ippei spoke, starting on the next sandwich.

“Hope me being in there won’t be bad luck.” You joked.

“You believe in that?” Ippei smirked.

“My family ingrained it into me, wasn’t allowed to watch a single super bowl game in the living room till I literally moved out.” You frowned, stabbing a grape.

“Harsh.” The man smirked with a small laugh under his breath.

“You will be good luck, for sure.” Shohei leaned forward in a hunch to take another bite of food, smiling sincerely at you as he looked up from his food.

“Then, I will see to it that will become a very good omen. Please believe in me.” You responded in the highest form of keigo you knew, bowing rigidly from your seat for comedic effect. Since you never studied that level of grammar, it was really freaking bad, causing the two men to laugh again.

“You’re funny.” Ippei chuckled.

“Yeah, and your Japanese is so good though?” Shohei exclaimed, eyebrows raised, eyes wide.

“Nah it’s pretty bad, I fell off the study wagon a long time ago.” You laughed awkwardly, waving a hand in front of your face.

“You’d be there forever if you stayed on.” Ippei chuckled again, while Shohei nodded in sullen agreement.

“Writing would be nice though, having to look up every other kanji at the doctor's office, or like city hall makes me literally sweat, like, a lot. Buckets. But when I look around, I'm the only one.” You giggled.

“You’re so honest.” Shohei chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin, still leaning forward in his chair, you grinned back at him. Your eyes locked for a while, you had never noticed, but his eyelashes were sort of long.

At that moment Ippei had to take a call, letting the two of you know he’d be back in a bit, walking off. The two of you looked away and finished eating in silence.

When you looked up from your empty plate, the large player was now staring at you with a soft expression. The warmth in his eyes made you blush, he didn’t even break his gaze once he was caught like he usually did. You responded back to him simply with a shy smile, before being the one to avert your own eyes to the floor again.

Thankfully at that moment, a group of Angels came over, slapping the Japanese man on the back, starting up a conversion. They were going over strategies for the game and overall just getting hyped up. You didn’t have much to input, so you just kind of sat there enjoying the excited chatter. Shohei smiled merrily the whole time, inserting little jokes, completely affected by their excitement. The way he carried himself really reminded you that the essence of baseball was really just about having fun with your teammates and giving it your all. He looked simply happy to be there, and it made you smile too, just watching him goof off. It was charming to see his duality of being a just big kid with endless laugher, versus the super-serious, and seasoned player he was on the mound.

You were really trying hard not to but, you were rapidly developing feelings for Shohei. The last three months of volunteering here, you of course thought he was really cute and kind, classic boyfriend material. A simple crush, like many of the girls working around him, surely had as well. However the possibility of you two actually dating had always been a foreign concept, one which stopped you from even considering it, at all, you just didn’t know if you even could. With you both traveling for work, how would there be time? Plus, what about the media? His family? Yours? All those things seemed unscalable walls, that is, until this moment, when you could feel his gentle eyes on you once again.

Maybe, there was something? Or maybe, he was just a super nice guy, and you were treated no different than anyone else.

When you snapped out of your thoughts, Shohei was starting to stand up, grabbing everyone’s empties plates. He reached his hand towards you, asking for the one in your hand with a tiny nod of his head, to which you thanked him, stood up, and handed it over.

Well.

Either way, you were so screwed.

-------

Hope you enjoyed! <3

[bestiepetedavidson]

Can I request hcs what Pete would do when you're standing in the middle of the night at his door, after a break up with your now ex boyfriend? Thankss ❣

yes! this game me inspo and i’m going to try to do a written-out story if that’s ok! :)

a/n: y’all this is the first story ish thing i’ve ever written so i apologize if it’s really bad/cringey! i feel like it’s extremely choppy but idrk how to fix it. constructive critism/suggestions/etc is ALWAYS appreciated! thank u! <3

song to listen to: i’m thinking adore you by bestie harry? idk it just fits hehe

tw: angst? i think? idk this is my first time writing this much lol. some strong language. ending with fluff :)

it was almost 3 am on a saturday night, pouring rain and thundering, and you were left crying on your now ex’s doorstep. you ran into your car, soaking wet. your boyfriend/girlfriend of 3 years, the person you were gonna marry- had just dumped you. they cheated on you with your best friend.

you had no one to talk to and nowhere to go. you’re pretty introverted, and the only people you really had were your ex-best friend, your ex, and your friend pete. and pete’s friends too, technically. they were mainly his friends but you would all hang out together, none of which you felt comfortable enough to go to.

you called pete- no answer. he probably still hasn’t left 30 Rock. but anyways, he had a lot on his plate. you continued to bawl as tears rolled down your cheeks and your mascara smudged underneath your eyes. you broke down and you couldn’t stop. he/she broke your heart into a million pieces in the matter of seconds. the past 3 years of your life had gone to waste.

you decided to just drive. you didn’t have anywhere to go because you were staying with him/her. you just drove around aimlessly for 20 minutes, still crying the whole time. then, you got a phone call. “pete”, your phone read. thank god. quickly, you pulled into a random grocery store’s parking lot. you picked the phone up and your bluetooth connected to your car.

“y/n” pete said. he sounded tired.

“yeah?” you responded, still crying.

“what happened? is everything okay?”

you tried to explain what had just happened, but you were too much of a crying mess for him to make out anything you were saying.

pete, confused, told you “y/n, i’m sorry, i can’t understand what you’re saying”. he took a deep breath, and continued. “do you want to come over? i just got home from work. we can talk it out”. his voice sounded worried

you agreed and hung up, and set your google maps to his apartment address. you started to blast a random spotify breakup playlist and drove.

~

a little later, at around 3:40, you finally made it. still soaking wet from the rain, you took the elevator up to his floor. you had somewhat calmed down, but you looked like you’ve been through a trainwreck. you knocked on pete’s door and he opened it to see you in your current state. the moment you saw him you just broke down, and he pulled you into a hug without saying anything.

so there you two were. just standing in the middle of the building’s hallway, hugging. in the middle of the night. he didn’t care that you were getting him and his clothes wet, and he didn’t care that he couldn’t go to sleep. he was simply focused on you and what was going on. he softly rubbed your back, and every time you would start shake uncontrollably again, he’d just hug you harder.

eventually, he suggested going back in. “y/n, let’s go inside and sit. you can tell me what’s going on and i’ll do my best to help.”

he held the door for you to go in, and you walked in and sat on his couch. he sat right next to you and there was a moment of silence before he decided to speak up. “hey.. y/n look at me. please.”

his words only made you cry more. he place his hand on your chin and slowly lifted it, giving you a slight “please tell me what’s going on��� smile.

you took his hand off of your face and held on to his thumb. you were luckily able to get a hold of yourself and explained to him what had just happened, crying in between sentences. he didn’t take his eyes off of you for a second. he stayed there and listened to absolutely everything you had to stay, his thumb still in your hand. by the time you were done, any trace of makeup that was still on your eyes was a done deal, and it was all smeared on your cheeks. he took a deep breath and gave his opinions.

“wow.. y/ex/n is a fucking scumbag. no like seriously, what the actual fuck. who would do that? and especially to someone like you.. y/n you deserve so much better than that piece of shit. fuck him/her.”

you cried, and responded with “no, he/she’s right. i wasn’t worth it and y/bsf/n is so much better fit for him/her. she’s so much prettier and smarter and just better”

pete took a second. “y/n that is so fucking wrong. you can’t say that about yourself. you are beautiful and smart and amazing in every single way. anybody would be lucky as fuck to date you.”

you simply shrugged, he knew that he couldn’t technically change your mind and that you weren’t in a state to really believe that, so you just let it be. he took both of his hands and cupped your face.

“you are perfect.” he tried to wipe your cheeks with his thumbs but it only made things worse, spreading it all across your face. you looked across the room at that large mirror he had hanging on the wall and went “ah”, making fun of the way he made it look.

“hey, at least we have matching raccoon eyes now” pete said, smiling. to that you giggled, and he responded with “gahhh, there’s that smile i love”, as he hugged you again.

still sniffling but now with a smile on your face, you whispered “thank you” in his ear.

“anytime. and listen, you don’t get to talk about my best friend like that.” he responded

sending him another smile, you went to his bathroom to wash your face.

best friend, he said. nothing more.

while you still loved your ex boyfriend/girlfriend, you always secretly had a crush on pete. it was ever anything you would’ve acted on though. first of all, because of your friendship. you wouldn’t want to ruin the way things were. second, because you were dating someone. you loved them and you wouldn’t just cheat... but apparently they would. and did. third, you had just had your heart broken. you were in no state of mind to just go and admit your crush. but god, was it tempting. and it’s not like if you were to, you would want to start dating him. he most likely wouldn’t like you back, and even if he did, you wouldn’t want to date. you learned that you needed to take things slow, and pete knew that about himself too.

you walked back out, and you noticed that pete was in the kitchen, making tea. he knows that you love it. he saw you glaring and smiled, going “what? you love it.” you started to giggle because pete is absolutely not a tea person, but the gesture is just so cute. “shut up,” pete jokingly went, “we’re watching spongebob to help calm you and you’re sleeping here tonight”

“oh petey! how you’re just the sweetest!” you mocked him, smiling at each other.

you went to his closet to get a bunch of blankets, and soon enough, y’all were sitting & cuddling on his couch, watching spongebob on his couch, drinking tea, and cuddled up in a multitude of blankets. you were still worn out from sobbing and very tired, but. it was the perfect comfort spot. he always knew what to do. he was your comfort person.

he started smoking a blunt, (that’s pete for you) and he offered if you wanted a hit, but you declined. smirking, he decided to put it out. after an episode, it was already 4 am. you knew he was tired and so were you, so you suggested going to sleep, but pete insisted that y’all finish the episode. neither of you were really paying attention but it was kind of just playing in the background.

pete starts talking about random stuff going on, life stuff, making little jokes, the SNL show that he just did, etc etc. he’s sitting back on the couch and you’re on his side, head on his chest. you’ve cuddled platonically before so it’s nothing new. you’re both watching the screen and going in and out of conversation. at some point, you lift your head up off his chest, and you just stare at him while he’s continuing his story. he doesn’t really notice you getting up, and continues to talk about a recent standup he did.

watching his face, his jaw moving, talking, the way he speaks and the way his voice sounds, something changes in you and you feel the urgent need to kiss him. he notices that you’re looking at him. he turns his head and looks down at you. the second he notices that you’re staring at him, his words slowly fade out and he just looks into your eyes, forgetting what he as saying before. you’re still in his arms, but your head is up and you’re just staring at each other. there’s about 5 inches between your faces, and your heart starts racing. his does too.

“pete” you quietly whisper.

he softly presses his lips into yours and you kiss him back. his hand runs through your hair. his lips are perfect and it’s like you two were made for each other. the kiss lasts for like 10 seconds, and he slowly pulls away. you’re both at a loss for words, and you’re still staring into each other’s eyes. pete, breathless, quickly glances that the digital clock underneath his tv.

“wow,” pete says. “i’ve been waiting for as long as i can remember for this to happen and it happens at 4:20,” slowly creeping up a smile.

“i kno-” you start to respond, when you fully realize what he just said. you cackle out and can’t stop laughing, neither can he.

you pull him back into you as you’re both still giggling and you softly make out for a little longer. eventually you fall asleep in his arms, right on his couch. with spongebob still playing in the background :)

i hope u enjoyed my very first mess of a story <3 requests are open!

🤍🤍🤍

[nastybuckybarnes]

Monsters  -  Eleven (Alternate Ending)

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Language, Violence, Injuries, Fluff, Mentions of Mental Disorders and Personality Disorders (of which I've used personal experiences as references)

Word Count: 2.8K

A/n: Fourth day of ficmas and y’all get an alternate ending!! The end of this has given me an idea for a new dark!Fic that could potentially become a dark series but idk yet. Anyway, enjoy!! 

A/n 2: This doesn’t fall in line with Madness or Bad Dream, but idc

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

“(Y/n)? Honey? You in here?” Bucky hesitantly pushes open the front door, senses on high alert in case you make a hostile move.

“James?”

He walks slowly into the living room, smiling softly when he sees you.

“Hey,” he whispers. You eye him warily and he sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he begins gently, sitting down next to you, “I know what I did was wrong, and I know it looks like I chose her over you, but I’m here for you now. And I’m gonna be here for you as long as you’ll have me.”

You stare at him for a moment longer before grinning.

“You need me,” you state. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “That’s why you came back,” you elaborate, “because you need me. Because you know that Natasha won’t be able to handle you the way I can.”

He swallows hard, thinking back to the way Nat was appalled by the video.

“You’re right.”

You giggle, shaking your head at him. “I know. I know I’m right. I’m the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to you! You’d be lost without me and you’re now realizing it, aren’t you?” His guard is up in an instant, your outburst making him uneasy.

You get up off the couch to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“You hurt my feelings, James.” He nods, reaching for your hands slowly. You allow him to take them and watch as he presses gentle kisses to your knuckles.

“I know. And I’m sorry. And you’re right again. I do need you. More than I’ve ever needed anybody and that scares me.” You ponder this for a moment, thinking about all the pictures he received.

“How long were you with her?” He sighs heavily and closes his eyes tightly.

“A month. Maybe longer. At first, she was just something for the soldier when you weren’t there but… I’m not sure why I kept going back. I care about you, I really do.” You hum, pushing his hands away and straddling his waist.

You lean down, lips brushing over his just gently before you smile again.

“I fucked Steve last night. Several times.” A growl rumbles deep in his chest and you pull away for a moment, grinning wickedly as you see his eyes glaze over slightly. His hands grip your hips tightly and he takes a deep breath.

“Your best friend fucked me. For hours. Because you were too busy picking that stupid fucking bitch over me. That’s a lesson for you. I can get whoever I want, whenever I want. You need me, not the other way around. Remember that.” You push yourself off of his lap and walk to the staircase.

“In time you can have me again. But not now. If the soldier needs me, he can have me, but not you, James. Not yet.” He sits panting on the couch, eyes trained on your backside as you leave him confused and aroused.

You close the door to your bedroom and plop yourself down on your bed, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of your mind, the one that’s begging you to leave him. He hurt you, but he’s back. He must care about you or else he wouldn’t have come back, right?

As you’re pondering this, the window slides open with a soft thud. You turn to the sound, anger coursing through your veins as you see the redhead climbing into your room.

“What are you doing here?” You demand, uncurling your legs and climbing off the bed. She closes the window silently and holds her hands up in surrender.

“I just want to talk. Please.” You eye her warily but stay seated at the edge of the bed.

“He came home to me. He chose me. So if you’re gonna try and convince me that he wants you, think again,” you snark, hoping to hurt her feelings before physically hurting her again.

She shakes her head, sitting down slowly on the floor a few feet in front of you, giving you the upper hand if you wanted to get physical.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” You furrow your brows in absolute confusion at her statement. You were expecting a lot of things; yelling, screaming, insults, violence. But this is the absolute opposite of what you had prepared yourself for.

“You don’t even know me,” you scoff, shaking your head at her.

She raises her eyebrows at that. “I know about your parents. Your dad, the paranoid schizophrenic who abused you because he thought he was doing what God wanted. And your mom, the Narcissist who neglected you.”

Your hands start trembling as she brings up people who you’ve fought to forget. The people who made you the way you are.

“You don’t know anything about them. Or me. You’re just-” “Just what? Telling you the truth? Reminding you of the fact that you were raised by them, yet you turned out to be a beautiful, smart, independent young woman?” You look at her, uncertain of where she’s going with this but still angry at the fact that she knows about your past.

“You may have been raised by them, you may have had a difficult childhood, and you may be dealing with something that very few other people can understand, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re not a bad person. You’re hurting, and you’re scared, and I know deep down that you know this isn’t a healthy relationship. But it can stop. We can stop this.”

“You think you know me, don't you? You think you’ve got me all figured out. You don’t. You don’t know a single damn thing about me and I’m tired of you pretending like you do.”

You stand up, glaring at her as she slowly rises to her feet.

“First you come in and intrude on my relationship, make the man who loves me question his devotion to me. Then you come into my room, in my space, and try to tell me that you know all about me. Well, guess what? You don’t. You don’t know a single damn thing about me. You think that because you’ve got the files and the information that you know a single thing about what I’ve done.”

You lean closer to her, lips just barely brushing over the shell of her ear.

“I’ve killed people before, Natasha.” She furrows her brows. You pull away and grin, batting your lashes at her.

“I’ve killed so many people, I’ve lost count. But I remember their faces. Do you wanna know why I did it?” She’s silent but you continue anyway.

“I did it because of the rush. The power of knowing that you hold someone’s life in your hands... and you ended it. It’s euphoric. I may never get enough of it. And when I plan a kill, I plan it precisely. I make sure they have no idea and then... then I pounce.” She backs up a step, inhaling sharply when her back gets pressed into the wall.

“I guess I should thank you, Natty. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be that sweet innocent girl I pretend I am. The one who I’ve been since I moved here. But now that I don’t have to pretend anymore... I feel free. And I’m ready for my next kill. Do you wanna know who it’s gonna be?”

She shakes her head, feeling genuine fear as you talk so casually about ending innocent lives.

“I’ll give you a hint: she’s a woman. And she stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. Do you have any guesses yet?”

“If you kill me, Fury will kill you. I have no doubt about that.” You snicker and pull away, looking her up and down.

“Yeah... but I’ve got someone on my side who isn’t afraid of him. Someone who’d choose me over you in a heartbeat. You may have James, but I have the soldier. He's perfect. Everything I need and more.

“He broke you!”

“He didn’t break me!” You snarl, fist slamming into the wall beside her head. “He showed me who I am and how much I can take. And let me tell you, having those boundaries pushed... it really opens your eyes to what you can endure as a person. It’s a really spiritual process. Would you like to try it?” You ask, eyes wide and full of mischief.

“No. (Y/n) you’re better than this, I know you are.” You laugh, shaking your head and staring into her eyes.

“See, that's where you’re wrong. And that’s what your problem is. You think you’ve got everyone all figured out. But you don’t. You think I’m better than this? I’m not. I can tell you that right now. I’m not the damsel in distress that you think I am. I don’t need your help. Because I like the way I am. I’m fucking perfect! Men want me, I have a purpose. And now, I can get away with whatever the fuck I want. Murder included.”

“James would never-” “You wanna call James up here? See how he likes you intruding on his space? As soon as he sees me and you in any type of fight, the soldier will step in. I know how to trigger him without those special words.” The colour drains from her face and you nod.

“Him and I? We could be great together. I just need you and James out of the way. And look, you’ve handed yourself to me on a silver fucking platter. So Bravo, Natasha.”

“So what? You’re gonna kill me? Then what?”

You shake your head, fingers stroking her cheek gently.

“I’m gonna post that little video of us first. And then, after the good name of The Avengers has been destroyed, I’m gonna take you somewhere nice and quiet and I’m gonna put a bullet between your pretty green eyes. By then, James will be too consumed with his feelings to fight off the soldier, and I’ll have everything I could ever want.”

“Why?”

“Why am I like this? You said it yourself. Daddy was an abusive schizophrenic and mommy was a neglectful narcissist. They made me like this. I’ve pushed it down for too long.”

“But you can be kind! Caring and compassionate and forgiving! You don’t have to be like this!”

“You want me to be kind and forgiving? Ha! The world isn’t kind nor is it forgiving. Why should I be any different?” She shakes her head at you. “I can’t let you do this.” You raise your eyebrows at her and look her up and down.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it? You gonna hurt me?”

She has the two of you in opposite positions in a heartbeat, a knife from her thigh plunged into your side.

You cry out in pain, slumping against the wall.

“James!” You shout, eyes full of pure evil as you look at the redhead in front of you.

Her eyes widen as you rip the knife out of your gut and shove it into hers.

The door bursts open as he runs into the room.

“Nat? What’s...” he trails off and you see the switch as the soldier takes over upon seeing you injured. Natasha is torn from you and tossed to the floor while the soldier hovers over you, inspecting the knife wound for a moment before looking back over his shoulder to where the threat is.

She scrambles to her feet and holds one of her hands up in surrender, the other going to her gut and gently holding around the knife wound

“James, listen to me. You need to understand that she isn’t who she says she is.”

You grab his hand, holding tightly and doing your best to look innocent.

“She came in here and tried to convince me to leave you. When I refused she stabbed me and said I was a monster just like you. I-I didn’t want her to hurt you... I had to do it...” You can see him struggling, trying to regain control of his body as the soldier reaches out to you.

“Bucky, Listen to me. She's not who you think she is. I know I vouched for her in the beginning but now it’s different. You’ve gotta listen to me. She’s dangerous. Please. She stabbed you and she stabbed me, James please.”

He looks between the two of you, clearly measuring his options.

“You chose her once, James. Don’t make the same mistake. Please. I trusted you.” You can see the confusion and anguish in his eyes as he looks at you then over at Nat.

“James, please. Please, you need to believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I know you’re in there.”

“No! She hurt me! She tried to get me to leave you! She tried to come between us! Don’t let her get away with it! Please, James. Please. She did it once, what’s stopping her from doing it again?”

It’s silent for a very long time, the two of you staring at the man, waiting for him to make his decision. When you see his shoulders tense and his jaw clench, you know you’ve won this fight.

The soldier turns to Nat, metal plates in his arm whirring as he clenches his hand in a fist.

“Leave. Never come back. If I ever see you near here again I will kill you.” His words are spat with a thick Russian accent, and it takes all of your self-control not to smile wickedly at the redhead.

“James please! Please, you’ve gotta listen! She isn’t who you think she is!” He says nothing, simply takes your hand and nods at you.

“He picked you last time. Now he’s finally picking me,” you whisper, smiling softly at the man only to grin wickedly at Nat when he turns away.

“Leave now,” he barks, glaring at her until she starts moving. She half runs half limps out of the house, leaving you alone with the soldier.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hugging him tightly then hissing as the wound in your side burns.

He lays you down on the ground, inspecting the gouge before nodding to himself. He stands without another word to retrieve a first aid kit and when he’s beside you again he starts stitching you up, his fingers gentle and kind.

You spend the rest of the day relaxing with the soldier, Bucky hardly making an appearance at all.

You’re getting ready for bed when you feel someone’s eyes on you.

“God, do none of you have any respect for other peoples’ privacy?” You demand, turning around with your hands on your hips.

Steve stands by the door, his arms crossed over his chest and a stern look on his face.

“You know why I’m here.” Is all he says. You nod, pursing your lips and plopping down on your bed.

“The redhead sent you. Came and tattled on me for being a bad girl, right?” He says nothing, but you see a muscle in his jaw twitch.

“Fury’s gonna find out.”

“Oh yeah? And then what? Is he gonna deprive his pet of the one person who can keep him calm and contained?” Steve’s silence is answer enough.

“Don’t act like I’m the bad guy here. You and I both know that you’re just as fucked up as I am, if not more.” He swallows hard and avoids eye contact, making you chuckle.

“Imagine what would happen if people found out about Captain America’s depraved fantasies. Imagine if they knew how badly he craves power... how he longs to make people cower before him. Well, I don’t think they'd react too well to that. Do you?” His nostrils flare as he finally looks at you.

“What do you want?” He asks.

“I want to help you find her. Whoever it is you’re planning on taking. I want to be a part of it.” He furrows his brow, taken aback by your request.

“Why?”

“Because,” you whisper, pushing yourself to your feet and standing right in front of him. “The power is euphoric. It’s addictive. And I wanna feel it again.”

He stares down at you, blue eyes fighting a battle as he mulls over your words.

It’s wrong. He knows it’s wrong. He knows you’re not a good person and that wanting the things he wants isn’t something a good person, a normal person, wants. And yet... there’s something so alluring about you. Something addictive about the darkness inside of you. And he desperately wants a taste of it.

With a huff out of his nose, he glances down.

“So we have a deal?” You ask, a smile playing around the edges of your pretty lips.

“We’ve got a deal.”

[darling-i-read-it]

The Wrath of the Lamb

3x13

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4.7k (this is officially the longest thing i’ve ever posted, i beat my own record three times with this series lmao)

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, guns, pregnancy, burning, canniablism, death, gore probably more idk 

Author’s Note: My very favorite thing about this rewrite is watching the show and seeing how those writers and creators took pieces of the original source material to create their own show and I took both the novels and the show and just did this. I am very very proud of this. I am so happy I decided to do it. I was going to make a substantial change to the ending but I honestly am hoping that one day, season 4 will happen and maybe I’ll stil be writing. Thank you all SO MUCH for getting this far. I am so happy we got to share this together and that this show is as good as it is. I hope I did it justice because this show is so complex. I hope that you all enjoy and thank you again. 

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar 

Official Episode Summary: Will orchestrates a plot involving Hannibal in hope of slaying Francis Dolarhyde; Bedelia is concerned for Will and the lives of those close to him.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll​ @ericacactus​ @vlightning95​ @sweetgoodangel​

(not my gif) 

You looked in the small window of Reba’s hospital room. You were standing outside of it beside your husband, your hand tight around your upper arm. You were almost cradling yourself in a way. This reminded you of when you had come to visit Abigail, when she was still in the hospital. As your eyes went from the window to Will you were once again thrown to the reality of now. If it had been Abigail in that room you would have looked to see a shaking, sweating puppy dog Will Graham who was so unsure of the world around him. This Will was so different. His hair was done, his shirt ironed. You had ironed it. 

He met your eyes and you gave him a small nod. He opened the door and you let him go inside. You did not follow him. He had enough empathy to give Reba and he understood where she was standing. You and him understood. You had all loved a monster.

-

Will grabbed your arm gently. You and him stood in front of Hannibal’s cage. You had no doubt that Hannibal saw you somewhere else. But nonetheless, you allowed yourself to ease in his presence. A thing Will was once again learning to do.

“Ding-dong, the Dragon’s dead,” Will said. Hannibal raised an eyebrow. He looked between the two of you and his smile faded.

“Pity. I had such plans,” he promised. You believed that. “Are congratulations in order?” Will approached the other man, just against the glass wall. 

“I didn’t kill him. Neither did Y/N. Suicide.”

“I would have liked to kill him as well,” you muttered. Hannibal seemed disappointed at that.

“Then he wasn’t as strong as the Dragon after all,” Hannibal whispered. 

“He was trying to stop,” Will argued. You weren’t sure why Will was arguing for Francis. You hated that he was. He had hurt you. Francis had scared you. You didn’t mention it but you could feel that Hannibal caught the emotion

“I was rooting for you, Will. I figured you would adore killing the man who attacked your family, it’s such a shame. You came all this way and didn’t even get to kill anybody. Only consolation is Dr. Chilton.” Hannibal paused for affect. “Congratulations for the job you did on him. I admired it enormously. Did you do it together? Was the idea hatched in the duo?” You straightened your back. 

“No,” Will said simply. 

“What a cunning couple you are,” Hannibal said anyway. 

“Are you accusing us of something?” you questioned.

“Does the enemy inside you agree with the accusation? Even a little bit?” Hannibal questioned. 

“We came back to stop the Dragon. He’s stopped,” Will stated. 

“Your family was on his itinerary Will. You’re safe now, all three of you. You can go home again. If there’s any point?” Hannibal suggested. You gave him a look. 

“I like my life,” Will said but he did not sound convincing. 

“It won't’ be the same. You’ll see it’s not the same,” Hannibal promised. You stepped closer to the glass.

“I want it to be the same. Together, we will make it the same,” you promised.

“Mutual assurances you try to exchange in the dark and in the day will pass through some refraction, making them miss their mark. When life becomes maddeningly polite…” Hannibal thought about his words and made you both think about them as well. “...think about me. Think about me, don’t worry about me.” 

Will was ready to leave. You could feel it. 

“You turned yourself in so I would always know where you are. You’d only do that if we, together, rejected you.” Will put his hand on the nape of your back. “Good-bye Hannibal.” Will started to lead you out. 

“Will…” He turned. “Was it good to see me?” 

“Good? No.” 

Will walked out and you followed him. He kept going but you stopped as the doors behind you shut. Your mind reeled and he could see it. 

“I need my own goodbye,” you whispered. He gave you a long look. He knew that this was what you needed. He knew it was. Still though, he didn’t want it. He wanted to protest. 

“I’m going back to the motel. Meet me there?” You nodded. He walked down the hall. You could feel his tenseness but ignored it as you walked back into the room with Hannibal. He was clearly surprised to see you. 

“Was that not good-bye?” he questioned. You shrugged.

“That was Will’s good-bye. Not mine.” 

You walked in front of the glass and sat down. Hannibal did the same. You were arguably one of the only people he would sit down like that for. 

“I take for granted, on occasion, that you enjoyed my company,” you told him. You played with the hem of your pants. “I recognize, to a fault, that you would eat me if let out. You would eat my husband. You would eat my baby. But still…” You smiled, reminiscently. “I loved you.” 

He was pleased to hear this. He was so pleased.

“You never would have left him. Not even if I killed him in the kitchen,” he suggested. You thought about that for a moment. You thought back to that terrible day and felt it again.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“When you came in to interview for the secretary position I had already picked someone. I didn’t want to be rude, so I let you in.” He stopped. That was the end of his story.

“Why would you let me work for you?”

“Because I liked you. And as it turns out, we would have met eventually. Through Will.” You nodded.

“But it would have been different.” 

“Yes. Yes it would have.” You pressed your hand against the glass. He looked at it and he did not put his hand on yours. 

“Will is right. I turned myself in so you and he would always know where I am. Because you rejected me.” Your hand fell off the glass slowly.

“I deserved that.” 

You stood up and took a deep breath.

“Good-bye Hannibal.” 

-

You walked up to the hotel room and started to grab the key from your purse. You struggled for a moment but eventually found it. You slid it into the lock and unlocked it, walking inside. Your mind hung over Hannibal still when you were grabbed. You had just been able to see Francis coming at you enough to push him off, hitting his head. He ran out of the door and you followed him but eventually he went too far and you had to stop. You turned back to the room and ran back, your hand on your stomach as you breathed hard from adrenaline. 

Will sat in the chair, tied down. You rushed to him, locking the door behind you. 

You started to untie him.

“Who was that?” you asked. 

“The Red Dragon,” he breathed. You scoffed.

“Not dead then.”

“Clearly.” You got him out quickly.

“Are you alright?” you questioned. He nodded, rubbing his wrists. 

“Yeah. He didn’t hurt me much.” 

“What did he want?” 

You stared at each other. He didn’t need to tell you. You knew. 

-

Will, you and Jack Crawford stood in the hall leading to the morgue. 

“The obvious thing is to try to get him to come to us. Bait him with something he wants more than us,” Will said. Jack gave him a look.

“He’d be an idiot to go for it,” Jack muttered. 

“I know. Want to hear what the best bait would be?” you asked. Jack stared at you. You stared back at him.

“Not from you.”

“Hannibal would be the best bait,” Will said so that you didn’t have to. Jack shook his head.

“Why in God’s name would anybody want to meet Hannibal Lecter?”

“To kill him, Jack. The Dragon could absorb him that way, engulf him, become more than he is,” Will explained. It gave you a moment of just realizing that was how he used to speak about killers he didn’t know. 

“You sound pretty sure Will.”

“I’m not sure. Who’s sure? I’m not even sure Hannibal would draw the Dragon. I say it’s the best shot,” Will explained. 

“Set up how?” Jack asked.

“I would be hell to do, I know that. We’d take Hannibal into federal custody,” Will said. You gave him a look. 

“Because Y/N and Alana would never sit still for what you’re about to suggest?” You gave Jack a bitter role. 

“We fake an escape.” Will stared at you for a moment and Zeller called his name. “One moment.” He disappeared in the morgue that left you and Jack alone, annoyingly. 

“You’ll have both their lives in your hands,” you whispered. 

“Since when do you care about if Hannibal gets hurt under my care?” he questioned.

“Since now.” 

-

Bedelia did not look happy. You did not expect her to be happy either. You respected her bit of unhappiness. 

“We assign a moment to decision, to dignify the process as a timely result of rational and conscious thought. Yet what you propose is so thoughtless, I find it difficult to imagine that moment exists,” Bedelia said bitterly. You stood behind Will, walking around the room slowly. Will sat down across from her.

“Decisions are made of kneaded feelings. They’re more often a lump than a sum.” Bedelia stood up, walked to where she kept the drinks and poured herself one. She offered one to you that she then realized you couldn’t drink. 

“However you think you’re going to manipulate this situation to your advantage, think again,” Bedelia said.

“There is no advantage. It’s all degrees of disadvantage,” you argued. Bedelia fixed on you and Will with a piercing stare. 

“‘Who holds the Devil, let him hold him well. He will hardly be caught a second time’.” 

“I don’t intend Hannibal to be caught a second time.” A flicker of alarm played in her eyes. 

“Can’t live with him. Can’t live without him. Is that what this is?” she asked, bitterly.

“I guess this is my Becoming,” Will suggested.

“I just tag along,” you whispered.

“Because you have two crazy men in absolute love with you,” she told you. Will stood up, straightening his jacket. He was done here.

“I’d pack my bags if I were you Bedelia. Meat’s back on the menu.” 

-

Alana looked annoyed. She sat in Jack’s office, a place you hated to the ends of the Earth. You messed with your hair a bit, leaning against the wall.

“Hannibal has tentatively agreed to the deal, as proposed,” Alana said.

“What will make him less tentative?” 

“He wants Will and Y/N to ask him.” She turned to him. “He wants you to say ‘please’.” You gave a bitter smile. So very like him.

“I’ll say ‘pretty please’,” Will said. He was preparing to speak to you. He knew what he had to bring up would not blow over right.

“We will have a stampede when people think Lecter is out,” Jack explained.

“Let them stampede. Authenticity. And let them think I helped Hannibal escape,” Will muttered.

“Authenticity?” 

“Someone has to be close. When the Dragon comes.” He turned to you. “And just one person.” For a moment, the other three people in that room let that sink in. It was a surprise even to Jack Crawford that Will would even suggest that he go somewhere without you. 

“Sorry?”

“You can’t come,” he repeated.

“No I heard you, I was letting you change your sentence.” 

“I don’t think you need to be there. You don’t.” You clenched your fist and looked away from him. You understood where he was coming from. There was no reason for you to be there. You would only be in the way and you had a child. It would be stupid.

But still.

Every piece of you wanted to be there with Will and Hannibal. You were always there with them. They were your boys. 

You shook your head slowly. 

“What do you suggest I do?” you asked. Will thought about that for a moment.

“Whatever you want.” You couldn’t look at him. He pulled a pocket knife out of his jacket pocket and handed it to you. You took it slowly but still looked away from him. “For if you need it.” You weren’t sure what that meant and you didn’t want to ask. 

-

You and Will walked into the room with Hannibal again. You had hoped to never have to see it again. He did not look surprised to see you this time.

“I thought you said your good-byes.”

“We’ve had one last good-bye between us.” Hannibal was tied up in a straight jacket. You hadn’t been this close to him for a while. You wanted to touch him but you held yourself back. 

“You didn’t just say good-bye, though, did you? That little extra bit at the end for you Will. It felt very final for both of you. I believe it’s called a ‘mic drop’. You dropped the mic, but here you are having to come back and pick it back up again,” Hannibal explained. There were nurses in there with you that stopped any kind of intimacy feeling you may have.

“I knew you would keep running if I kept chasing you. I knew you wanted me to know exactly where I could find you. When we needed you,” Will said.

“And you did,” Hannibal commented. 

“I need you, Hannibal,” you said. Will finished it off.

“Please.” 

-

Will stared at Hannibal in his cage. Even as Francis drove by, he stared at Hannibal. His mind became blurry. But still, he saw the outline of Hannibal’s face in the fog that was his mind as it crashed. People died. People were killed. 

Hannibal was let out. 

Will did not panic. He figured this would happen. He knew this would happen. 

When his mind regained his moment, he got up and stepped out of the broken car. Hannibal crossed to the police car as he took off his straight jacket. He opened the door and pulled the dead driver from the vehicle.

“What are you doing?” Will called.

“You know Will, you worry too much. You’d be so much more comfortable if you relaxed with yourself. Are you coming? He’s not going to kill us here. What he wants to do requires something a little more private.” Hannibal behind the wheel was an interesting scene. The side window was smashed, blood splashed across the inside of the windshield. Hannibal pulled up alongside Will, opened the passenger door and shoved a dead police officer out of the vehicle. He leaned over the seat.

“Going my way?” Will looked through the car door and then looked back down the road.

“You know it can’t just be the two of us,” Will said.

“It never was and never will be, just the two of us.” 

-

You sat in Jack’s office. Will’s pocket knife was in your hand tightly. You were getting a play by play that way which was the only reason you were truly there. You sat in a chair, head in one of your hands as you heard the voices go out and static. You looked up and Jack looked at you.

“What is that? What happened?” 

“Hold on.” He dialed a number.

There was an excruciatingly long moment in silence. You held your breath, biting your finger gently as you waited. Someone spoke on the other line. You couldn’t make out what they were saying. 

Then he hung up and looked at you. You stared back at him and waited.

“They were intercepted. We don’t know yet if there are any survivors.” You stared at him and he waited for that backlash. He was ready for it. But there was no anger that went over your face, instead it was just a small laugh. You shook your head and that laugh fell. 

He saw that face and he recognized the look in your eyes. 

“Do you remember the first judge of Will’s trial?” you asked quietly. 

“What?” 

“Do you. Remember. The first judge. In my husband's murder trial?” you asked again, louder this time. 

“Yeah. Hannibal killed him.” You widened your eyes and shook your head slowly.

“No. I did.”

He had no time to react. You opened the pocket knife and leaned across the desk, slashing his throat. 

-

You reached the motel room quickly after that. You pulled in at the same time you saw a car pull into the parking lot behind you. You got out of your car, hands still stained in Jack Crawford’s blood. The car slowed down beside you. You looked into it and the window rolled down, revealing Will in the passenger seat, Hannibal in the driver's seat.

You let out an audible sigh of relief. 

“Jack told me you were dead,” you said as you rushed to the window.

“Get in the back,” Will said gently. He went to grab your hand but stopped when he saw the blood. Hannibal noticed it at the same time. You did not address it, instead you got in the back of the car with them. 

Hannibal pulled out of the parking lot and away.

“The blood isn’t...the b-” Will started but you cut him off.

“No. I slit Jack Crawford’s throat,” you stated. Hannibal, pleasantly surprised, laughed. Will turned around to look at you. He didn’t look exactly surprised at you. More surprised at his lack of shock.

“About time,” Hannibal said. 

“Is he dead?” Will asked. You shrugged.

“I left before figuring that out.” 

You were so happy to be back beside the both of them. You just let out another sigh of relief.

-

You got out of the car and admired the scenery. It was such a Hannibal place, you weren’t even surprised. The sun setting, the cliff, the way the house stood on the Earth. So serendipitous. 

“The bluff is eroding. There was more land when I was here with Abigail. More land still when I was here with Miriam Lass,” Hannibal said. Will looked over the view and down the cliff a bit. Water, crashing. Gorgeous.

“Now you’re here with us,” Will said. 

“And the bluff is still eroding. You and I are suspended over the roiling Atlaninic. Soon all of this will be lost to sea,” Hannibal explained. You walked over to where Will lingered by the cliff. Hannibal walked away from you to find the key to the home. 

“This isn’t the right place for us to be,” he whispered.

“Yes it is,” you countered. 

“Running from the law with a child?”

“Sounds like something we would do and do well.” He looked over at you away from the view. 

“Let’s get your hands cleaned.” 

-

The sun set completely. The moon showed through the glass walls. You stared through the view and Will stood beside you, watching you watch your new life. He put his hand on your shoulder and you leaned into him as Hannibal walked into the room. Hannibal pulled a wine bottle from the rack and poured two glasses of wine. 

“I apologize that I cannot offer you any wine Y/N,” he said. You turned to him. Will’s hand dropped. 

“No worries.  I never liked it anyway,” you lied. Will took a glass. 

“You’re playing games with yourself in the dark of the moon,” Hannibal said, moving toward the window as well. “Wasn’t surprising that I heard from the Great Red Dragon. Was it surprising when you both heard from him?”

“Yes and no,” Will said. 

“Surprised me. I just wanted to sleep in my own bed,” you whispered. Hannibal smiled gently but that quickly fell off his features. 

“You intend to watch him kill me?” Hannibal questioned. You shook your head but Will spoke first.

“I intend to watch him change you.” Hannibal took that in, a sad smile on his face as he fingered the corkscrew. He saw it in his hands and wondered if he should kill you. Kill Will. Get it over with. Instead, he uses the tip to cut the seal on the wine bottle. 

“My compassion for you both is inconvenient,” Hannibal stated.

“If you’re partial to beef products, it’s inconvenient to be compassionate toward a cow,” Will muttered.

“Save yourself, kill them all?” Hannibal asked.

“I don’t know if we can save ourselves. And maybe that’s just fine,” you said. 

“No greater love hath man than to lay down his life for a friend’,” Hannibal recited. Will looked out the window and sensed the danger.

“He’s watching us now,” Will whispered. He looked at you and you looked back at him. You were staring at each other the second that the glass wall shattered, impaling Hannibal in the stomach. You turned quickly, moving toward Will subconsciously. Hannibal’s wine bottle dropped from his hand and a large red stain on his sweater blossomed with blood. Glass shards fell through the air and beyond them, the patio is just the black knight. In the darkness came Francis Dolarhyde.

Hannibal slid down to his knee. Blood pumping from the gunshot wound in his abdomen. Will grabbed you but Francis raised his gun to the two of you. 

“Don’t run. I’ll catch you.” Hannibal glanced down at his belly wound.

“Hello, Francis,” he said.

“Hello, Dr. Lecter,” he echoed. Francis pulled a tripod from his bag and tossed it to you before pointing the gun at your head. Will took the tripod from your hands and began to set it up. 

“I’m so happy you chose life, Francis. Suicide is the enemy.” 

“I had one rag of pride that Reba McClane gave me. It told me that suicide was a sorry end,” Francis explained.

“You were seized by a fantasy life with the brilliance and freshness and immediacy of childhood. It took you a step beyond alone.” Francis pulled out a 16-mm camera from his bag and handed it to you who fixed it on the tripod, still at gunpoint. 

“I’m going to film your death, Dr. Lecter, as dying, you meld with the strength of the Dragon.”

“It’s a glorious and rather discomfiting idea,” Hannibal muttered. You back away from the camera and he reached for the gun that was in his waistband. You wanted to reach for Will’s knife he had given you but hesitated. 

“Watching the film will be wonderful, but not as wonderful as the act itself.”

Before you even knew what was happening, a knife slammed in Will’s face. You screamed. Francis shot you in the stomach. You stumbled back and then moved forward again. Will fell through the broken wall you attacked Francis. You had enough strength to get him outside.

Francis lifted Will off the ground and Will stabbed him with the knife that was once in his cheek. As you found your own knife, Francis started to again fight Will. As you moved you saw Will rag-doll across the stones. Will’s blood spattered across the thick drops to the stone. He got to his hands and knees. You went to stab Francis again but he got to you first, slashing your side. It stunned you enough that you fell back on the stones beside your husband. 

Will pulled his gun out and Francis immediately disarmed him, tossing the gun over the bluff. You wanted to scream but nothing came out. Just as Francis went to slash him again Hannibal came out of the darkness. He tried to snap Franics neck but the man's neck was too strong and he swatted Hannibal away. 

The two of them staggered across the patio. You tried to get up and Will did as well. He tossed Hannibal off but you and Will were up again.

You started to use your knives on his legs, hoping to disarm him. Hannibal grabbed a hatchet that he found off to the side. He slammed it into Francis achilles tendon and then his knee. 

You, Will and Hannibal all stood now. Exhausted but equal. Francis bleeded from his wounds, leg destroyed. Hannibal staggered up to him and bit out Francis throat. He arched his back and blood fell all around him.

Eventually he fell and let out one last breath as he stared at Will in front of him. 

Dead. 

Will started to finally feel his wounds, as did you and Hannibal. He looked down at his hands which were drenched in red. 

“It really does look black in the moonlight,” he whispered. You didn’t know what he was talking about but you didn’t ask. You stumbled to Hannibal who caught you. In his other arm, Will stood. The three of you embraced, not quite hugging, not not hugging. 

You caught your breath together. The night was still otherwise. 

“See,” Hannibal breathed. You did not look up at him. Will’s head was against his chest. You were buried in his neck. You grabbed Will’s hand and he held it for dear life. “This is all I ever wanted for you,” he choked. “For all of us.” 

Hannibal sounded broken. 

You felt broken. 

Will looked broken.

You closed your eyes, brushing back the tears that you didn’t know were there. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered. And you weren’t lying. Will stared at you and he genuinely felt that it was beautiful. He felt what you did. A single tear cut through the blood on his face and fell. 

You held onto him and Hannibal tightly. 

These were your boys. These were the people you had risked it all for. And you did not regret it for even a moment.

Hannibal let out a shaky breath and you felt the Earth underneath you move. You felt the ground and then you did not. 

Where you once stood was drenched in blood. It was illuminated by the moon. If someone was to stand there, despite there no longer being a living person standing there, they would feel the emotions that had left. That place was no longer still. It was breathing. 

The sea underneath it was breathing. It had engulfed three people who loved each other more than anyone had loved anyone. 

The waves crashed against the rocks, the only noise left in the dark of the night.

[lovingmyselfcore]

Chapter 2

Did I only have 800 words of this until like two hours ago? Yes. Is it after 2 am? Yes. Could I have done school work instead of this? Yes. Should I be posting this now and not wait until morning when I can proofread religiously? Probably not but it’s here anyway. Is this unedited? Mostly. Do I have a beta? Never. We die like men here. Is this chapter good? Idk. Is it? 

They were all riding on a high as they drove back to the rink.

Nico couldn’t tell who it was, but someone was definitely screeching. Hazel had an arm slung across his shoulder, she wasn’t exclaiming her excitement, which he appreciated, but every time someone mentioned their win she squeezed his shoulder. Which was a lot. 

“We should facetime Annabeth,” Piper McLean called loudly in order to be heard over the excited screaming.

“Yes.” Hazel nodded, “But I feel like we should wait-” She winced when someone accidentally elbowed her in the ribs, “Until we get back and out of this van.”

Nico nodded his agreement, curling back from everyone as best he could. It wasn’t that he didn’t share their enthusiasm but they were too loud about it. Way too loud.

Hazel angled herself in front of Nico when the clamor picked up a new wave. It didn’t do much to shield him but the sentiment was appreciated. 

The van rolled to a stop in front of the rink and they all pushed their way out. He saw Piper wave to the driver before racing inside.

“Let’s put all our stuff in the locker rooms then meet in the lobby and call Annabeth before we call it a night.” Hazel flashed him a smile as they separated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Annabeth!” Hazel exclaimed when the other girl finally picked up. Annabeth honestly looked like she’d been through some shit these past few days. She set her phone down as she wrestled her hair into a ponytail so all that they could see was the white ceiling and the occasional flash of Annabeth’s elbow.

Annabeth picked her phone back up and smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “How’d you guys do?”

“We won!” Came a chorus of shrieks.

Annabeth laughed, “That’s amazing. I’m not surprised either, you had Nico.” She winked at him and Nico allowed himself a small smile.

Thankfully, the attention was directed away from Nico when Piper spoke up, “Annabeth, you don’t look so hot. Is everything okay?”

Annabeth grimaced, “A little better.” When it was clear she wasn’t going to elaborate the conversation went back to their win.

“Nico was amazing out there, you should have seen him,” Calypso said and the others voiced their agreement.

Nico hung his head to hide his flushed face. 

He heard Annabeth laugh, but it wasn’t mocking. “I’m sure he was.”

When Calypso yawned, despite her best efforts at hiding it, it spread around the group quickly.

Annabeth laughed, "You guys should all go to bed. I'll talk to you later. And congratulations on an amazing job, I'm so proud of you."

They said their goodbyes, some waves, some blown kisses, and some mimed hugs.

Nico stood up and side-hugged Hazel, waving goodbyes to the others, and left the rink. He almost sighed at the comforting sight of his motorcycle. It had been a long day, and he just wanted to relax.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nico got home and automatically knew something was different, as he took off his winter coat and hung it up he scanned the hallway and what little he could see of the living room. “Dad?” He called, “Persephone?” He didn’t expect them to respond, it was late and they both worked in the morning.

Someone was in the kitchen, though, and he walked lightly. When he finally saw her he sighed with a light laugh. “Hey, Reyna. How did you even get in here?”

She turned from her rummaging in the cabinets to grin at him, “Don’t worry about it.”

Nico jumped up to sit on the counter, “Oh I already know how. ‘Sephone and Dad love you.”

Reyna laughed, “That they do.”

She went back to her scavenging and he was about to ask if she was looking for anything in particular when she spoke, “We didn’t get to talk after the performance but you killed it out there.”

Nico looked at her and let himself smile a little and even though she wasn’t looking at him she smiled. “Yeah?” He asked, turning so he couldn’t see her face and if she looked over she couldn’t see his.

“Of course you were! Nobody expected any less, except maybe you.” A hint of sadness in her voice that Nico had no idea what to do with so he ignored it.

“We called Annabeth once we got back to the rink, that’s why I’m later than I normally would be.”

Reyna hummed, finding a box of cereal and holding it triumphantly in the air.

“Cereal? Why.”

She stuck her middle finger in his direction at his tone as she tore the box open.

She gestured and he got the memo, sliding off the counter and walking with her to his room.

“How is Annabeth anyway?” She sat down on his bed, sticking her hand in the box of cinnamon toast crunch. 

He sat down next to her, taking his shoes off and tossing them in the vague direction of his closet.

“She’s doing okay, I think. You know, considering.”

Reyna nodded thoughtfully, “Did she say anything about how they’re doing? How Percy’s doing?”

Nico shook his head, “Not explicitly. It didn’t look like she’d been crying though so that could mean everybody’s okay. All she said was ‘A little better’ so,” He trailed off, watching amused and Reyna ate dry cereal with a serious expression on her face.

“Don’t judge me, Di Angelo.”

“I’m definitely judging you.”

She shook her head ruefully, “I know you are.”

“So, talking to anybody I need to know about?” She said suddenly.

Nico snorted, “Nope. You?”

She sighed, “Me either.” She slid along the bed until she was laying flat on her back, spilling some of the cereal in the process. “I never have luck with love.”

“Well,” Nico said, taking the box of cereal from her before she could make a bigger mess. “Let’s make a pact. If we’re both single by the time we’re 30 we’ll get married.”

Reyna tried to snatch the box back from him but he held it away from her, “Promise me.”

She sighed, “27?”

“Sure.”

“Great. I can’t wait to marry you.” Her laugh was full of exaggerated pain. “Now give me back my cereal. I’ll kill you.”

“Why do I feel like you're on something or drunk and are just hiding it from me.”

She narrowed her eyes and kept her hand out until he returned the cereal. She smiled like a child and was about to stick her hand back in when her phone started ringing.

She dug it out of her pocket with murder-eyes and murmured a curse before answering, “Hey, Hylla.”

Nico raised his eyebrows in slight concern. Reyna looked like a scolded puppy.

“Yes, Hyl. I know it’s late. Yes. No, I’m running away with the wolves.” She ended drily. “I’ll head home, I promise. No, I’m not lying. I’ll leave soon.”

She looked at Nico once the call ended and wailed dramatically.

“You are drunk aren’t you. You’re not acting like yourself at all.”

“Maybe a little,” She whispered. “I just felt lonely for some reason.”

Nico pursed his lips, “Yeah. I get that. And I’ll drive you home, I’m not letting you drive.”

She smiled and opened her mouth but Nico cut her off, “Yes, you can keep the cereal.”

~~~~~~~~

The next morning Nico came downstairs to breakfast waiting for him. His Dad and step-mother knew that the forced family dynamic where they ate together made him uncomfortable, he’d never had that and it didn’t fit who they were anyway.

But there was a plate of breakfast for him. 

Persephone was sitting on the couch, hands curled around a mug, eyes closed as she soaked in the sunlight in a fashion that was very similar to her plants.

She opened her eyes when he came downstairs and smiled warmly, “The food’s for you. You can take it upstairs if you’d like.”

He nodded thanks and was halfway up the stairs again when she spoke, “You did amazing last night. Really. It was breath-taking.” She was looking at him.

“Thank you,” He turned away, voice hoarse.

When he looked back her eyes were closed again.

~~~~~~~

Nico was sitting at his desk, picking at his half-eaten plate and half-heartedly doing the work he should be paying a lot of attention to when his phone buzzed.

Will Solace: Hey, I know you don’t really know me but I go to the same rink you do. I saw your performance last night, it was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen.

Immediately Nico clicked on his profile and stifled an actual gasp. It was the cute hockey player who indeed played at the rink. The same hockey player who’d found Nico having a panic attack outside and talked him through it. The same hockey player whose eyes Nico could feel on him when he was skating. The same hockey player that when given the opportunity, Nico couldn’t stop staring at. And he had reached out to Nico, admittedly just to compliment him, but he hadn’t even brought up what had happened outside.

Nico Di Angelo: Thank you. I appreciate it.

Will Solace: Of course, you deserve it.

Nico didn’t know how to respond to that but his thumbs hovered over the small keyboard anyway. He was saved (or damned, depending on how you look at it) when Will messaged again.

Will Solace: I know we’re not supposed to be friends, but do you think we could be? You seem really cool.

Nico froze in the spot and it seemed like he forgot how to breathe. His thumbs hovered again before he exited the chat.

He spun around in his chair, “Pick up.” He whisper-begged, “Pick up please.”

“Hey, Nico! What’s up?”

“Hazel.” He gasped in relief, “Help me.”

“With what?” She asked, her voice going very low.

“I- um. Can you come over? I need you and Reyna.”

“Of course.” She said immediately. “Are you in any imminent danger?”

“What? No.”

“Oh, thank god. I was really worried. I’m coming as soon as possible,” She paused, “I’ll be over in like 15 minutes.”

That was basically how the conversation with Reyna went too, and soon Nico was left in the silence of his room, twiddling his thumbs and waiting for his basically-sisters to help him with his. Guy problem? No. This dude literally said the word friend. Why was this such an issue? He tried to logic this with himself but it didn’t work, he couldn’t respond on his own.

“Nico!” Persephone’s voice carried. “Reyna and Hazel are here!”

“Thanks!” He called back. He was never sure what to call her. Mom didn’t work, that was reserved for his birth-mother, who’d died a long time ago, but calling her Persephone didn’t feel right either, she was too much of his mother for that. Why was he even thinking about this?”

When Hazel and Reyna came into his room, they both looked like they’d fought hell to do it.

“Did you run here or something?” Nico asked. 

“Pretty much,” Reyna said, sitting at the edge of his bed. 

Hazel nodded her agreement and sat on the opposite edge of his bed. “We were worried.”

Looking at them both, he could tell they definitely had been. They’d dropped everything to come help him, and he hadn’t even explained what it was he needed help with. That thing curled around his heart and squeezed.

“It’s okay. Seriously. It’s just,” He trailed off, deciding to just show them. He handed his phone to Hazel first.

Her eyes lit up and she was laughing as she handed the phone to Reyna. “Nico, do you like this guy.”

Nico felt himself go red, “No! I just, I- '' He was so flustered and the way Reyna was looking at him and clucking her tongue like a (somehow) simultaneously proud and disappointed mother hen was not helping.

“This is adorable,” Hazel said finally.

Nico groaned and buried his head in his hands

Reyna nodded her agreement, “Nico, babe.” She and Hazel looked at each other, silently communicating. “This Will guy isn’t even asked you to fuck him or anything,” Hazel went light pink, but it was nothing compared to the flush on Nico’s skin. “He’s asking to be friends, talk to you a little more.”

“I can’t.” Nico said, “He’s a hockey player.”

Reyna shook her head sadly, “I hate that rule.”

“But it’s a rule,” Hazel mumbled.

“When have you not broken rules?” Reyna asked with a pointed stare.

“I can’t handle the ‘scandal’ that would be. The consequences. And besides,” His voice dropped about 8 octaves, “I’m not even out to some of the team yet.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. So,” She handed his phone to him, “You don’t have to block him yet or anything but you just don’t respond.”

Hazel nodded her agreement, and then Nico did too.

Reyna clapped her hands, “Great. Now,” She slid back so she was sitting up against the wall, “We’re all here so let’s just talk about random bull.”

“I like that plan.” Hazel spread herself out on the bed until she was comfortable.

Nico stood up from his desk chair and wormed his way between them. “Me too.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It was two in the morning. Prime time for bad decisions.

Hazel and Reyna had left a while ago, but once they left, he’d finally focused on the work he should be doing, pushing Will and everything out of his mind.

He’d resolved it in his mind, he just wasn’t going to message him back. That was it. The chances of seeing him again, especially without anybody else, were very, very slim. So. It was fine, no worries.

Until the clock hit two AM. Nico was sitting in the dark of his bedroom, staring at his phone. What was he doing? This was such a mistake.

Nico Di Angelo: You seem okay. So, yeah. We can be friends. But, nobody can know. We're not supposed to be able to stand each other.

For some, god-forsaken reason, Will responded only fifteen minutes later.

Will Solace: Thank you? Of course. :)

Nico cursed himself silently. What was he doing? He could get in so much trouble for this. In many different senses of that phrase.

When Will friended him on Snapchat and then sent him an insufferably adorable selfie Nico couldn't bring himself together.

This was a mistake, but this boy had helped him, had thought that his skills in the rink were amazing, and Nico couldn't stop texting him all night.

[shyneanon]

I don't entirely know the details either. It could be a debt of some sort (maybe he stole some donuts from her lol), or just an random dislike of him. Idk, I just have a feeling a lot of the UF cast have a mutual loathing of Fell XDD

Splynter gave me a prompt about UF Sans having to go speak to Muffet. I knew they disliked each other, but didn’t really know the details of their dynamic, so I  asked. Honestly I agree, I feel like most of the Underfell cast just hates Sans. Which makes sense, considering pretty much everyone seems to love Sans in Undertale. Kind of reversed.

I’m not... sure how accurately I wrote UF Muffet, but I tried. I hope you like it!

---

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit.

Sans stood outside of the door to Muffet’s, feeling countless beads of sweat running down his forehead. Sure, they were on the surface now. He was… pretty sure she wouldn’t hurt him.

But there weren’t really any guarantees.

And besides, even if she didn’t hurt him, she would find some way to make his life miserable. He just needed to get in and back out as fast as possible. Why couldn’t Boss have done this?! He’d asked, but apparently Boss had taken that as a “Sans needs to learn to not be such a fucking wimp all the time.” He wasn’t a wimp! This was Muffet they were talking about! And she hated him! Him specifically! She would listen to Boss, at least a little bit…. Ugh. There was no point in stalling. He just needed to go in already.

He forced himself to place his hand on the door handle and push it open, rushing inside before he could change his mind.

The bell attached to the door made a little jingling sound as the door shut behind him, and he froze immediately. Muffet was right at the counter, wiping it down. She hadn’t noticed him yet.

“I’m afraid we just closed,” she began, but immediately paused after turning her head and seeing who had just entered the store. Sans felt himself start to sweat again and looked away.

“Hi, how are ya?” He tried to say it casually, but didn’t make eye contact. He didn’t want her to think he was being disrespectful.

She gasped, an utterly false gasp of joy. “Oh, Sans! How are you? It’s been so long!”

An army’s worth of spiders scuttled down from the counter and surrounded him in a semicircle.

“Too long.”

She giggled. Sans could feel himself shaking a little. It’s fine. She won’t hurt me. She knows Boss would kill her if she hurt me, even if it is against the law. Reminding himself that his brother really did care made him feel a bit better.

“What’s the matter? Go ahead and tell me what you’re here for, hm?”

He managed. “I got some’a yer money I owe ya.”

“Oh! Really?”

He nodded vigorously, pulling out the cash from his pocket. At the sudden movement, the spiders instinctively moved forward, but relaxed when they saw that he meant no harm.

“Oh! How lovely!” She looked down at something he couldn’t see behind the counter.

God no.

“Why don’t you go grab it, pet?”

There were several snarling sounds and Muffet’s horrible pet crawled over the counter and over to Sans. It opened its drooling mouth and displayed its sharp teeth. Making sure to barely hold the cash between the tip of his thumb and index fingers, Sans held it out and let the pet grab it, flinching when it bit down. Thankfully, his bones were untouched.

“Aww! It likes you so much!”

Just make this end, dammit….

“Why don’t you give it a few pats, hmm?”

“H… huh?” Sans felt himself start to sweat again. He smiled nervously. “I mean… I would, but I, uh--”

“It will be sad if you don’t!” She flashed him a smug smile. “And I’ll be very upset if you make it sad.”

ffffffffff

“R… right,” he said, and reached out. It flinched, which made him flinch, but he eventually patted its head. It started to growl, but he knew better than to stop, so he just continued and prayed that it wouldn’t decide to bite his hand off.

“Aww. It enjoys being pet so much! You can stop now.”

He immediately withdrew his hand, shoving it in its pocket, and the pet scurried back over to Muffet and handed her the cash. She started to flip through it.

“Well! Finally, we…”

She trailed off, counting the money again, and Sans started to shake once more. Had the pet swallowed some of the cash? Please no.

Her eyes went from the money to him.

“This is only half of your owed amount,” she said, her voice riddled with distaste.

“Y… Yeah.”

All five of her eyes narrowed as she stood up completely straight. “I thought I told you not to come back until you had all of my money, Sans.”

OK, time to completely cast aside his pride.

“I know!” he said. “I’m sorry! I wanted tah wait till I had it all, but Boss--”

“Hmmm, or wait forever?”

“N-- no, I was savin’ it up, but we had ‘n agreement an’ I didn’t wanna--”

“You know,” she interrupted, although he hesitantly tried to continue blabbering. “I just realized my pet hasn’t had any food since lunch.”

The pet, which was still standing on the counter, turned and stared at him with its beady eyes. He tried not to look too afraid. Technically, he could annihilate Muffet and her pet if he wanted, but he didn’t want anybody to know about what he was capable of.

“That’s illegal,” he said. “Yer shop’ll get shut down.”

“Oh trust me,” she said, “I can make sure no one pins it on me.” A bit of a manic smile. “It’s not as if they’ll have a body as evidence.”

“My bro’ll know you did it, he’ll kill ya.”

“Mmm. Your brother is only so strong.”

That may as well have been an insult, considering the Underground’s culture. Sans didn’t think before speaking-- a bad habit he often suffered from. “Shuddup, my brother’s stronger than you’ll ever be!”

A moment of silence as they both realized what he’d just said. They just stared at each other. Sans started to panic. He didn’t want to shortcut right in front of somebody. She was going to let that stupid pet eat him and--

No, the door was right behind him. He could run! Cowardly, sure, and embarrassing, but he’d be alive. He turned-- only to find someone towering over him.

“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?”

“Boss!” Sans practically yelled in relief. His brother raised a brow at him, but didn’t say anything.

“Oh!” said Muffet. She suddenly looked nervous. Only so strong, my ass. “Hello, Papyrus! Your lovely brother here was just paying me some of his debt. I’m quite appreciative!”

“AS YOU SHOULD BE,” said Papyrus stiffly. He must have seen Muffet’s sadistic smile through a window. Sans turned back around, giving Muffet a smug smile of his own when his brother wasn’t looking. How the tables have turned, huh?

She kept her fake smile plastered on her face, and her attention on Papyrus. “We just now closed, but you and I are always such good friends! Would you like something? It’s on the house! I made cupcakes just a few hours ago, they’re still--”

“NO,” said Papyrus, “WE ARE NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR SECOND-RATE FOOD.”

She looked like she’d just been slapped in the face, she was so horrified. Sans saw his chance and sauntered up to the counter, the spiders on the floor scuttling out of the way.

“I’ll take some,” he said, giving her a massive, shark-toothed grin.

One of her eyes twitched.

“I mean, ya did say I’m real lovely, right? ‘N we’re all such good friends.”

“... Of course,” she said, though the murderous rage radiating off of her was quite palpable. “Anything! What would you like?”

“Ya said ya made cupcakes?”

“Yes, I did in fact do that.” She pointed at six cupcakes immaculately decorated with clean frosting.

“Nice. I’ll take all six.”

“All six? I didn’t say you could have...” She stopped, looking over in Papyrus’s direction, and her grin became somehow more forced. “... I mean, of course, yes! Six cupcakes coming right up!”

It was almost like she had to force her limbs to grab the cupcakes, put them into a box, and then hand them to Sans without asking for any pay.

“Aw geez, Muffet, yer always such a great friend,” he said, beaming maliciously up at her.

“Always. You two take care now!”

“See ya,” he said, and headed for the door. Papyrus said nothing, just held the door open for him. Once he’d left, Papyrus followed.

“YOU KNOW I ONLY LET YOU TAKE SIX CUPCAKES BECAUSE I SAW THAT SHE WAS THREATENING YOU DESPITE HAVING THE MONEY.”

“Yeah, thanks fer saving my ass.”

“LANGUAGE! DON’T SPEAK LIKE A BARBARIAN, SANS!”

“Sure.” Sans opened up the box, grabbed a cupcake, and began stuffing his face. “These are so fuckin’ good,” he said through a full mouth.

Papyrus sighed with exasperation.

He then held out a hand. Immediately understanding, Sans handed him a cupcake.

“Ya didn’t mean, it right? When ya said her food was second-rate?”

“OF COURSE I DIDN’T!” said Papyrus as he carefully unwrapped the cupcake. “HER PASTRIES ARE AMAZING! BUT SHE WAS THREATENING YOU! SHE DESERVED TO FACE CONSEQUENCES, EVEN IF KILLING HER ISN’T AN OPTION!”

Sans was too absorbed in his sweets to reply.

“... I’LL ADMIT, WATCHING HER SQUIRM WAS QUITE SATISFYING.”

“Yeah,” said Sans, “it was hilarious.” His smile faltered. “You’ll, uh, probably need tah take the second half of th’ debt to ‘er when ya get it. She’ll… prob’ly kill me if I try tah give it to her.”

“... THAT’S PROBABLY TRUE, YES. I’LL DELIVER IT.”

Cool.

Sans shoved another cupcake into his mouth.

[paipayaseeds]

(idk if there was a certain person supposed to be at the door i don’t remember the game oops so i just picked kaede bc they need the cameras or some shit idk)(also there’s alcohol in this so if that’s not okay pls tell me to rewrite it or just end it if you want to! i just want to make sure ur okay dandbrjsjnfndan)(also idk man i only have one experience drinking vodka and i hated it so if it’s weird that’s why LMAOFIDJDJ)

waking up with a gasp, she looked up at the monitor mounted to the wall of her room. she winced at the loud volume of the speakers, and at the unnecessary reminder that her life would be cut short tomorrow night. when the tv turned back off, the uneasy feeling in her chest lingered; there wasn’t anybody there to hold her and tell her ‘it’s okay, it’s just the announcement...’ her arm was asleep, and when she looked down, she was hit with yet another reminder of how alone she was, met with the sight of a detective’s jacket... but no detective.

for a good half hour, she tossed and turned on her mattress trying to fall asleep, but to no avail. once she spent the night with shuichi, there was no way she’d be able to spend another one alone again. so, she got up and took a warm shower: one last attempt at relaxing herself enough to fall asleep. (she wasn’t a stinky little bitch-baby like shuicheese across the building). she didn’t care about her face, she wouldn’t have to see it for much longer anyway. she brushed her teeth and combed her hair before changing into some clean clothes. she was going to slip under blanket until she noticed the uniform still sitting there. i should... give it back. it was really just an excuse to go to shuichi’s room. she folded it over her arms and walked over to his door, leaving her mask in her room since everyone would be in theirs anyway. once she got there, though, she couldn’t bring herself to knock. instead, she just stood there with her knuckles barely brushing against the door while she was frozen. eventually, she backed up and folder the clothes neatly and placed them on the floor right in front of his door for him to pick up in the morning.

-

she managed to get a little shut-eye during the night, but not much. she let out a loud groan at the morning announcement before dragging herself out of bed and cleaning herself up for the day. that included putting on her mask. despite it only being two days, out of habit she waited for shuichi to come and walk with her. but, when she stood outside her door and noticed kaede knocking at his door, holding the clothes she had left there last night, she realized that wouldn’t be happening today. she shook her head before heading out the door and towards the dining hall.

when she arrived, she walked into a very weird conversation. rantaro and ryoma seemed to be arguing.

“nobody will be dying, you hear me?”

“you heard the bear, someone’s gotta kick it if you wanna live another day. i’m sayin’ that someone should be me.”

fumiko was a little shocked. why was ryoma trying to sacrifice himself...? he offered a lot to the group, and he helped out with the chores a lot!

“n-no...! k-kill... kill me instead.” fumiko spoke up, making the rest of the room look over and realize she was there. korekiyo seemed to be very interested in the conversation, how brilliant was it to see not one, but two people willing to give up their lives for the sake of others. “i’m- i’m serious.” because you deserve it. rantaro shot her a look that sent a shiver down her spine.

“i said, nobody will be dying. if any of you try anything... so help me god... just- just trust me, alright? don’t do anything stupid.” the green-haired man said, placing a hand on fumiko’s shoulder as he talked before leaving the dining hall. her gaze followed him, and when she turned around she saw a detective and a pianist standing at the doorway, seemingly watching this whole thing go down.

“fuck this, i’m gettin’ somethin’ to drink! if anyone wants to join me, feel free, hmph...” miu said, following in rantaro’s footsteps out the door before opening the entrance to the warehouse. i’ve never gotten drunk before... fumiko thought. she stood there in thought before ultimately deciding to follow the inventor into the warehouse, brushing her shoulder on shuichi’s as she did.

“h-huh? someone actually came?” miu said when she heard the door open. “Y-YOU...? FOR REAL? HAH! i might’ve underestimated you!” the blonde seemed to have known exactly where to go to find alcohol, as if she’s done it before, and she pulled out a bottle of vodka. fumiko stole the bottle from her hands and started downing it like it was nothing.

“w-w-what are you doing....!? H-HOW?” it tasted awful, and she hated it. but being drunk was supposed to be fun, right? so she squeezed her eyes shut and dealt with the pain. the door to the warehouse opened, and fumiko continued drinking. miu was so fucking out of it, she had no idea what was going on. she saw kaede and shuichi at the door and knew what they were going to ask. before she acknowledged them, though, she ripped the bottle from fumiko’s hand.

“give me that,” she mumbled, “WHAT THE FUCK? YOU DRANK HALF-”

“miu!” the pianist shouted, walking towards her, “are the- are they finished...?”

“yeah, yeah, come with me. i’ll give ‘em to ya.” miu stomped out of the room, open bottle in hand, and led the two visitors to her lab. all fumiko did was sit on the ground and rub her head. her whole body felt shitty already from the idiotic way she drank the beverage, the gross taste lingering in her mouth for much longer than she’d liked. it didn’t help that she got maybe an hour of sleep the night prior, which already rendered her ill. what was she thinking? that she would be dead by tomorrow. that’s what she was thinking.

Opening the door to his room, he was met with Kaede, and... his clothes? How did she get his clothes? Voicing his troubled thoughts, he furrowed his brow at her, "W- why do you have my clothes...?" Kaede blinked, "Huh? Wha-?" She looked down at the article she had held in her arms, somehow forgetting she had picked it up. "Oh! I found this outside your door!"

Taking the folded clothing from her hands, he gazed down at it thoughtfully, racking his brain to try and think of why that had been— "C'mon, let's go! You already made me wait long, we have to get Miu's cameras and then you know," She spoke in a hushed tone, a cheeky smile on her face, "Set up the plan."

--

Shuichi found himself balancing on the line of giving her space, and running to her side to check on her—and you know what? It was stupid! He was stupid. What if she got alcohol poisoning? What if she does something rash? Most importantly, why? Throwing away the barrier that prevented him from interacting with the girl he loved, he concluded she had enough space. 

God knows if she forgave or not for his bullshit, but that was beside the point she had just downed half a bottle of Vodka. As he practically dashed to the girl sitting on the ground, he left the disgruntled pianist behind—sadly, this hadn’t been the first time he had done that. 

Slowing down to a stop, he crouched down across from her, subconsciously trying to see her eyes. It was strange, but he found himself wishing for a flashlight to see if the alcohol had kicked in yet.

Shuichi had to shove down the urge to scold her on drinking alcohol, knowing she didn't enjoy yelling nor was it even an okay thing to do. He had put himself on a permanent hiatus from yelling, he didn't want to see her upset like that, not today, and not ever.

"H- hey, uh..." He flinched at his own shaky and awkward voice, feeling the huge difference to how he talked to her before. Things shouldn't have felt so tense between them, today could've been the last day they— No. No, the plan would work.

"Why did...-" Shuichi pursed his lips; why did he bother asking? He knew why, didn't he? Well, maybe he just... didn't want to believe it. "W- were you drinking because of... what you said earlier? A- about the.." He trailed off, expression slightly saddened as he remembered her self-sacrificial remark.

Clearing his throat, he sat himself down fully on the floor across from her; a safe distance as he was afraid she still didn't want to be too close to him. Forcing words out of his throat, he spoke with feigned determination; despite his soul-crushing fear of 'what if the plan doesn't work?', he tried to remain strong. If not for himself, then for Fumiko, right?

"No one is going to have to die. E- especially not you, never... never you." He tried swallowing the rising lump in his throat, eyes focusing onto the ground as he tried to get rid of his emotions. He cleared his throat again, blinking violently as to rid the tears; he wasn't going to cry in front of her. And especially not Miu. "... S- sorry." Ah yes, the apology he had forgotten to give to her when he yelled near her. This fucking prick-

[perksofbeingaharrie]

PICTURE THIS - part: 4

FRIENDS TO LOVERS FIC

Lesson learnt for life - ‘Shri, never post a fic unless you’ve completed written ALL of it’

Welp, I am really not the best at being punctual. My writer’s block can be absolute brutal IM SO SO SORRY YOU GUYS. 

So idk if people remember this story now so here's little recap:

RECAP: Y/N is Harry’s tour photographer and through this they become close and develop a strong friendship. But when you are spending every second of your day with someone, feelings are bound to occur. As the American leg of his tour comes to an end, a little tussle here and there leads to Harry admitting his feelings for her and them getting a little tipsy and ending up spending a night together. 

Now the morning after is not the most pleasant and expectant for them. Find out in Part - 4!

Genre: angst

PICTURE THIS - part:4

© perksofbeingaharrie

---

The morning after is never the easiest. And they knew and had fathomed so the moment Harry’s alarm blared out loud at 8 in the morning.

Harry was careful to have turned it off the second it made a sound and he turns around on his bed, hoping to sleep beside her a little longer. A little longer before both of them would dread and regret it – but mostly her.

But to his much dismay, when he turns over, she has sat up and thrown her feet down the bed on her side, giving him her back as the first view of the morning since yesterday night.

“Y/N.” He calls out, not realizing it, and later feels that his calling happened to have alarmed her even more.

She hurriedly snatches the top of the sheets and dashes for the bathroom, grabbing her clothes on the way. Harry falls back on the bed, defeated and closes his eyes shut to process everything from the night before.

What a disaster it was to bring to their friendship.

With the same lingering thought in her head, she changed into her clothes and came out of the bathroom.

Harry is already outside waiting for her, clad in only his boxers and he immediately jumps to his feet on seeing her.

“Y/N…”

“Last night…” She begins.

“I meant it.” He says before she gets to finish her sentence. She looks up at him from the ground, flushed. “I meant everything, I swear.”

Her mouth parts but the loss of words makes her retract back. She feels weak in the knees as she throws the sheet she had carried with her on the ground and takes a deep breath.

“How did we even end up doing that?”

He cringes at her choice of words. “I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I really don’t. But it means a lot to me-“

“Oh, for god’s sake please stop saying that!” She raises her voice. “It is not making me feel any better, Harry.”

He gulps, looking away. “I am sorry.”

She takes a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know.” He says, looking at her again. “I think you take some time to think this over. To go through whatever you felt last night – just think about them again.”

“I-“

“I really thought it would be easy to just be your friend. Just let you go on some occasions, to let you not give me time but – but, I don’t think I can do that.” He breathes. “I don’t want to be just your friend, Y/N. I don’t want to be just a part of your time; I don’t want you to choose anybody else but me; and I don’t want to have to lose you to somebody else.”

Her heart shakes frantically inside her.

“Y/N, I want to be something more to you than just your – your friend.” He finishes, shakily breathing himself. “And I won’t put you through any pressure. You can think over this, I swear. As much time as you want, as many days as you’d like – all my time is yours now. I promise.”

She looks away from him, not ready to absorb all that he has said. Why is there a hesitation now? Why can she not speak up at all? Where is her resolved mind on this?

“We have a flight to catch.” She finally says. “I’ll see you there.”

--

She left the room right after.

Harry shed some meaningless tears thereafter, not sure what was it that was making him cry so much as he stood under the shower, reliving the night. He packed his luggage then and he also packed her purse she had left behind in the check-in luggage, clearly with no resolve to return it to her soon.

He cannot believe he said everything to her. He places his hand on his heart now and then, feeling it beating for real and comes to it that it really was no dream.

He really meant everything he said, everything he did. He has never experienced this panic and anxiety in a long time as he had when he saw her be so cold and not feel comfortable with him. Why was this discomfort? Was it because of the line they had drawn on their relationship? Of just being friends?

He thought of their life if they weren’t just friends but something more. Though the thought of always having her around and them being together always felt a little obsessive in a way but he did not ever want her compromising and being with someone else.

When they were seated in the airplane after a lot of running around and checking in, their eyes met when she was walking past his seat to the hers.

They locked eyes but she spoke nothing with them either. She appeared shaky and confused and she rushed past, and in that moment, another thought occurred to him.

What if she did not feel the same way as him? What if the amount of happiness and love she has shown and given him, he hasn’t been able to give her the same? He thought of the other people she could be with and if they would give her happiness she truly deserves and he undermines his ability to give her the same.

The sullen thoughts keep him up the entire flight. He does not turn around to look out for her; he does not get up even once thinking he might crash into her and shake her resolve – which could also be to not be with him.

And he accepted how things were until she would herself want to come around.

--

She extends her legs up to where her seats allow, breathing out loud as if she has been tired for so long. She hasn’t let her mind think over too much – all she did was pack her stuff in, rush over to the airport with the others and check in as soon as she could and be home.

But now in the dim lights of her the airplane, she feels her mind kick back in all that happened to her. And not just memories of last night and this morning but all and everything that her life has been this past few months.

Meeting Harry, spending that one night together just getting to know each other, becoming friends without the spell of that uncomfortable confrontation, The entire tour, private photoshoots, cooking for each other, drinking, laughing and finally yesterday.

If only he could have straight away asked her what she felt and not guilt tripped her this way. Why was she even taking time? She has loved him for all this while and now when he is admitting it to her, what in the bloody hell is holding her back?

She bites her lip in the sudden spur of excitement. God, everything he does to her can never not make her feel like electricity sparking through her. Even right now.

In the aftermath of it all, she decides to tell him everything when they off of this flight. They will start afresh and they will start all bright.

“Gahh, I’m done.” Sameera, one of the management faculty and a close friend, sighs beside her as she shuts her laptop down. She had been working on and on since they had departed, going about writing mails and what not and up till now, Y/N had not thought to ask what it was.

“Finally…” Y/N drawls in the same tone as her. Sameera chuckles and puts away her laptop and stretches her legs.

“It’s gonna be hectic once again when we get to London. I can’t really sit straight, can I?” She grunts.

“Why?”

“Ah, just management stuff, man. There is never just one thing I am dealing with – it all just comes plummeting down.”

Y/N gives a pat to her shoulder. “You’ll be fine, babe. And let me know if I can help with anything. I would, I swear I would.”

Sameera gladly smiles and places her head on her shoulder. Then she opens her laptop and begins to work again. Y/N reads over certain words looking over her head and her curiosity perks up.

“Can I ask you what the assignment is on?”

Mindlessly, Sameera answers back, too indulged in her work. “We’re hooking Harry up with a name. You know, pretend to be involved and stuff. It helps keep the tour in the news and of course, Harry’s name too.”

“Hooking him up?”

“Yeah, like fake dating. But Harry does meet them up and many a times he’s liked them and been with them too for a while.”

Y/N’s silence makes Sameera explain a bit more.

“It’s just PR stunting. It’s been a part of the cycle for some time now. Harry’s okay with it too now I think. He meets them, likes them so hangs out with them or dislikes them and we try to shake off the rumour within a month or two. It’s just how it is.”

There is no more information shared. Sameera is on her work for some time and then she naps away the rest of the flight.

Y/N stays up, too shaken by the reality thrashing her in the face. She was taking chances by betting to be with a star – someone always in the limelight, always living for the limelight. She doubts if she will be able to hold up amidst all this glamour; and hurting one another is the last thing she would want to happen.

She closes her eyes and waits for this time to pass too.

--

It was close to almost a week since they had returned. The concerts scheduled thereafter were in two days from today and things were very hectic.

She was called in throughout rehearsals and back stage shooting. She would do her work and leave.

He would come over and do his part. He, however, would leave with a longing heart.

It wasn’t easy at all to ignore him. They would end up speaking a few words here and there but the silence that filled right after was impossible to be shaken. The walls that she had begun to build around herself to protect both him and her were starting to bother Harry more than he could imagine.

She saw him shrink more and more into himself and she only hoped he would understand her without having to say anything.

But, he finally loses patience and calls her up today.

When she reaches his place after the call, she is only carrying her camera bag and nothing more, and she rings the bell.

“Come in.” He tells her at the door, walking into his house and leaving her outside.

She closes the door on our way and follows behind him, entering the balcony.

“Let’s get started.” He purses his lips, clasping his hands together.

She nods, placing her camera on the nearby table to her. Sighing, she looks up at him.

“Why are we doing this again?”

He chuckles, humourless. “We always did this – informal photoshoots. Just you, me and you camera.” He throws him arms exaggeratedly towards her camera.

She hesitates, breathing shakily. “No, I meant…why now?” Beginning to unpack her stuff, she continues. “You have your show in like 2 days, why get into this hassle now?”

She watches as he turns his back on her and stretches, all out of restlessness. She gulps and decided to shut up.

“Okay, I am ready-“

His chuckle again makes her stop. “Funny how things we previously did for fun now seem like a hassle, do they now?”

He stands by the railing of the balcony, leaning on it with his arms spread to his sides and gives her a sad look. She cannot say a word to him and only looks him in the eyes with the same look as his.

He takes his eyes off immediately and breaks the tension.

“Let’s get started.”

The shoot is simple. He is in a soft cotton shirt with a few unbuttoned buttons on the top and bottom, and the light wind in the balcony flows around the light material, matching the lost, dewy look of the shoot.

She keeps on going clicking pictures. He almost would always tell her when to stop but today he doesn’t. He lets her keep doing her job as much as she can, telling him to pose, to look somewhere else and everything. She has no clue to how ask him if he is done.  

The sun sets in the background. The natural light that they had depended on now turns to dark and this makes the perfect excuse for her to step back.

“Guess we are done.” She says, pulling her camera to herself to preview.

“No.” Harry ascertains, making her look up once again at his somber tone. “Try with the flash this time.”

She gulps, letting out a dry chuckle, tired with the brutal behavior of his.

“Harry, please.” Her voice is low and tired. “Let’s stop.”

His fists ball at his sides. He feels all the pent-up emotion, the remorse, the pain come back to him and he takes two long steps towards her to now stand right with just an inch of a distance between their noses.

“Stop what?” He grits through his teeth. “Stop even being friends? Even talking and being as we were? Why?”

She steps back one, shaky with the proximity. Her mouth opens to speak but he cuts her to it.

“Scratch that. I want my answer. I want to know what do you want from this and what it meant for you to be in my arms that night, kissing me, touching-“

“Harry!” She cries. Her face softens as their eyes meet – his rage and angst all making her heart pound.

She turns on her heel and scurries back inside the house, picking her camera bag from the floor.

He is trailing right behind her. “Y/N –“

“I just don’t want to hurt any one of us.” She turns around to face him again, putting a little distance between the two of them.

“And what about this? Is this not testing enough?!” He cries back at her.

“Harry-“

“Okay, no, no, wait.” He walks over to her. “You told me you love me that day. You told me you love me – didn’t you?”

She closes her eyes, nodding. “I do, I love you so, so much.”

He cracks a half grin. “Then what is it? I love you too, so much. More than you can imagine.”

“You don’t get it.” Shaking her head, she continues. “We are so much less involved in each other’s life when we are friends. You realize being together would complicate it all so, so much.”

“What is the complication for? It is all in your head.”

“Harry!” She puts him down with one raise of her voice. “Please. Understand this; you live in this bubble around all the glam and you have things to do that you are bound to – there is no way you can avoid them.” She pauses. “I am a simple girl. All I seek is small things, sought out things – simple things.”

He shuts up then. His voice holds no longer the desperate tone. He is confused, severely at that, and now all he wants is answers.

“What is it about my life? You’ve been with me for the entire tour, Y/N. I don’t think I did anything for you to feel that my life could be any complicated -“

“Harry, I was with you but always from a distance. You have your commitments, your duties as an artist that you’ve got to fill –“

“You’re going round in circles, saying the same thing over and over again, Y/N.” He cries out.

She takes a deep breath and squares up to spill the truth. “I do not understand this whole thing about going from dating one person to another.”

His eyes squint in surprise. “What-“

“Yes, you’ll have to be with multiple people at times, all through the year and you’ve done that in the past too-“

“Have you ever tried to understand this whole thing or are you just making assumptions –“

“It is the truth, Harry, and that is what gets to me every time I think –“

“Will you let me explain what this whole thing is and how it goes or –“

“No, Harry!” She shouts this time. “This is how you guys are. You go around jumping from one person to date to another – what would you do with being with a commoner? What good would she do to you? Will you get the same kind of promotions, be in the same way in the news, will remain as popular as ever?”

He opens and closes his mouth, her words hitting like spikes to his heart.

“Okay, okay.” She takes a breath out, calming. “Just give it a thought, you know – think a bit logically and realistically. You will need to think about your career at the end of the day. I get it, I get it, there is feelings and all but if we do get together, neither of us would be happy because – because our professional lives and image would keep clashing and –“

Both of them know she is blabbering like a mess now.

He takes a step back from her, rubbing his hands over his face. “Yeah, yeah –“

“You understand me, right? You get it too.” She tries to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah!” He says to loudly and quickly. “I get it. Absolutely. Perfectly.”

They both takes long breaths and look at one another. Their eyes blood shot red, and their faces show the tiredness and hopelessness. They both know this is in no way sought out.

Finally, with the same expressions on his face, he tells her, “Now, get out.”

She feels an invisible force push her steps back to the door. She accepts the defeat and the end and she nods.

“Trust me, this is for the best, Harry.”

---

Hope everyone’s keeping well and being safe. My wishes and love to you all. 

Look forward to part:5 coming soon and show some love to this write up too!

Thank you for the love and support! 

Big looove

- Shri <3

MASTERLIST  O PART1  O PART2  O PART3

[calumcest]

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter one

[ao3]

have i ever mentioned my britpop au? i don’t think i have :) this is quite literally the definition of self-indulgence like genuinely this is so self-indulgent that it probably counts as a deadly sin and i have literally no justifications for it 

before anybody comes for me for starting another chaptered fic: i have 50k of this lined up and i’m still going at the speed of light (as sam can attest to) fear not we’re going to get there with this one i promise also for anyone still waiting for the soulmate au thats going to get finished too once this is out of my system 

i have an inordinate number of people to thank for putting up with me/this fic so let us begin: @tirednotflirting​ deserves every single ounce of praise and love i have to offer for reading this whole thing, listening to me talk about it, bouncing ideas with me, being so patient and kind about it, coming up with such brilliant ideas and for just generally being an all-round sweetheart. @calumftduke​ also deserves excessive praise and thanks for reading a big old chunk of this and being so sweet about it. @killingangels​ genuinely breathed life into this fic and cheered it on to the place it is today thank u for diving into a britpop phase with me. @ashesonthefloor​ and @clumsyclifford​ listened to me whine about this fic even though neither of them care and i truly owe them for that. @kaleidoscopeminds lets me thirst over the gallaghers but keeps me in my place about it which is truly the vibe check i need and also listened to me talk about this fic over the past few weeks and is just generally such a joy to speak to. i’m certain i’ve forgotten someone my brain has not been switched on in weeks now but anyone who’s listened to me talk about this over the past few weeks deserves a ticket straight to heaven honestly 

quick bit of vocab: our kid is a term used by siblings in manchester. not sure why i don’t understand mancunian culture myself but the gallaghers are always saying it in interviews and my mancunian friend concurred that it is correct so idk what goes on up there 

warnings: heavy drug use (its oasis and blur in the ‘90s theres a lot of coke/weed/alcohol) and lots of swearing (including the c word because they’re british)

-

He’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now.

But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford.

-

or: calum's in oasis and michael's in blur and it's the height of the 1990s britpop war

Liam had once asked Calum if he believed in fate. 

“D’you think it’s all real?” he’d said one day, out of the fucking blue. Calum, though, used to Liam beginning conversations in the middle after two long years of knowing him, had just looked at him. 

“Do I think what’s all real?” he’d asked. Liam had indicated up at the sky with his eyes and cigarette. 

“Fate, and all that,” he’d said, lifting the cigarette back to his lips. Calum had watched as his cheeks hollowed around it, turning potential answers over and over in his mind. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he’d said eventually, and Liam had raised his eyebrows and nodded as he’d exhaled a cloud of grey smoke that had blended in with the sky and the council houses. 

Calum thinks he probably should have known then. Maybe Liam had been trying to make a point, in that strange way he sometimes does - what are the odds you’d end up here, with us? Calum hadn’t given it a second thought at the time, just rolled his eyes and nudged Liam’s foot with his own and said Noel’s going to do his fucking nut if we’re not there in ten, and that had been that. The conversation never even crossed his mind again until it was too late, until fate had already had her way with Calum. 

In Calum’s defence, though, fate never showed her hand. She never threw him any hints, no flashing neon signs that said Calum, your destiny is this way. Fate came piecemeal, came in short snippets of conversations or flashes of familiar faces or, on occasion, Liam and Noel swearing loudly at each other as they stomp up the stairs in Calum’s house.

“I’m arsed,” Liam’s saying loudly, when he barges into Calum’s room. Noel’s hot on his heels, midway through a spiel he’s clearly prepared which Liam’s having none of, and he turns to Calum when they get through the door, an annoyed expression on his face. 

“Tell him he’s a prick,” he says. 

“Why?” Calum says, setting his magazine aside, because he needs to know what he’s supposed to be endorsing before he picks a side in an argument between the Gallagher brothers. 

“Our kid wants us to miss the match tonight and go to some fucking gig,” Liam grumbles, throwing himself down on Calum’s bed and picking up his magazine. 

“It’s not ‘some fucking gig’, Liam,” Noel says irritably. “It’s the fucking Boardwalk. We’ve got to hear what else is out there right now.” 

“I told you, I’m fucking arsed what else is out there right now,” Liam says, flicking about five pages on from the article Calum had been in the middle of reading. “I don’t write the fucking songs, do I? Go on your fucking own. You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” Noel rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, and Calum’s Gallagher Explosion Incoming senses start tingling, followed swiftly by his Peacekeeping Skill Set activating. 

“Look,” he says hurriedly, before Noel can say something that’ll lead to a couple of black eyes, mostly because neither of the brothers have ever cared much about collateral damage and Calum values his bruiseless skin. “What if we start the match, and if City look like they’re going to lose, we go to the gig?” Noel closes his mouth, and then opens it again, and then closes it again. 

“Fucking whatever,” Liam grumbles, which is the closest they’re going to get to acquiescence from him. Calum stares at Noel beseechingly, because this is the best idea he’s got and pretty much the only one he thinks Liam’ll agree to, and Noel rolls his eyes, sighs dramatically, but then nods reluctantly. 

“City won’t fucking lose,” he mutters, as he sits down in the chair at Calum’s desk. “Not to a bunch of Scousers.” 

“Lost to Liverpool not four weeks ago,” Calum reminds him, and Noel scowls. 

“That second goal was fucking offside,” he says. 

“Ref was a fucking wanker,” Liam chimes in, from where he’s lying on Calum’s bed, still thumbing through the magazine. “‘Ere, what’s this, then?” he adds, with a grin, and turns the magazine around, tapping on the page. It’s a picture of a (very pretty) boy spread across a motorbike, and Calum rolls his eyes, snatching the magazine out of Liam’s hands. 

“Fuck off,” he says, but Liam’s just laughing, head tipped back on the bed, all full lips and bright blue eyes and long, dark lashes. If Calum hadn’t been doing lines with Liam for half of last night, he could almost believe the angelic innocence the boy gives off. 

“Looks like our kid,” Noel says, sitting down on the chair at Calum’s desk. Liam raises his head far enough to give Noel a two-fingered salute, but he’s still grinning, and Noel’s grinning too when he flips Liam off in return. 

Fucking hell, Calum thinks. It’ll take more than his three O Levels to fucking understand those two. 

 -------

 City end up conceding three goals in the first twenty-five minutes, and Liam’s the one who stands up, voice already hoarse from screaming at the TV, and demands they go out. Noel, never one to resist pressing buttons that only he can find on Liam, makes a snide comment about it, and Calum, to keep the peace, makes a comment about United, giving both brothers something to spend the entire bus journey to the Boardwalk ranting about. 

Noel gets them in for free, because he knows someone who knows someone who’d been a roadie with a band who had been on tour with the Inspiral Carpets for like, half a second, or something. Calum doesn’t really care how they get in for free, whether Noel gets them in by knowing someone who knows someone or by hiring a hitman on the bouncer, as long as they do get in for free, because he’d rather save his money for weed. 

The band that’s playing are immediately declared to be boring little fuckers by Liam, who beelines for the bar and only has to flutter his lashes twice before the pretty girl behind the bar sidles up to him with a coy look on her face. To his credit, though, he doesn’t linger after getting the drinks, weaving through the crowd to Noel and Calum with a mixture of shouted insults and threats at anyone in his path, three overfull pints balanced precariously in his hands. 

“You’re paying me back for these,” is how he greets them again, taking a sip from Noel’s before handing it to him. Noel just rolls his eyes, turning back to the stage and raising the pint to his lips. 

“Am I fuck,” Calum says, taking the other beer out of Liam’s outstretched hand. Liam scowls, but lets him take it, taking a sip from his own glass. 

“I’ll just smoke your weed, then,” he says, like he doesn’t do that anyway. Calum just shakes his head and turns back to the stage, where a new band are setting up, fiddling with their amps and mic stands. 

“D’you even know who these pricks are?” Liam asks Noel. 

“Don’t even know if they’re worth knowing yet,” Noel says. Liam shrugs, like that’s a fair point, and then a squeal of feedback makes all three of them (and the rest of the crowd) jump, causing loud swearing from at least eight people in the vicinity as their drinks slosh over them. 

“Fucking hell,” Noel mutters, shaking his hands off. 

“Evening,” the lead singer says, voice deep and rich. “We’re Blur, and this is Popscene.” They immediately launch into something that’s all guitars and overdrive and beat, and Noel’s soon tapping his foot along in interest, spilled beer forgotten, as the singer starts jumping around enthusiastically. They’re not standing anywhere near the stage, and the distance and bright lights combined with the movement are making the singer look more translucent than opaque, which is making Calum’s head hurt. He chooses to focus on the bassist instead, because Noel’s kind of got a point that they should be listening to what else is around, although he’s probably just looking for more people to nick ideas off. 

By the third song, though, Calum realises he’s really stood far too far away to get any benefit from watching the bassist - he can’t even tell whether he’s using a plectrum or not, and his eyes are already starting to hurt from squinting - and lets his gaze wander across the stage. There’s a guitarist wearing glasses, which Calum’s pretty sure Liam’s going to have a comment about that’ll involve the words ‘fucking’ ‘not’ and ‘rock ‘n’ roll’, with maybe ‘cunt’ chucked in for good measure. The drummer’s so far back that all Calum can make out is a shadowy figure behind the kit, and when the singer stands still long enough for Calum to see more than just a hazy figure all he can vaguely make out is what looks like very pretty features and blonde hair. 

It’s the other guitarist, though, that makes Calum stop, his heart stilling in his chest for the briefest of moments. 

He looks so familiar, messy blonde hair sticking up at all sorts of angles that Calum’s only ever seen on one other person, that it makes Calum’s stomach lurch. He’s got his face down, focusing on whatever they’re playing, so Calum can’t really see - not that he’d be able to tell from this distance, anyway - but there’s something that’s so achingly known to Calum that it makes him swallow, mouth suddenly dry. Even the guitarist’s posture is familiar, a little tense, a lot focused, with an edge of something cool and relaxed. 

Calum’s so mesmerised by the guitarist, heart hammering in his chest, that he barely even realises three more songs have come to an end until the band all stop, gather together at the front of the stage and do an awkward half-bow-half-wave to the crowd. There’s a smattering of applause as they straighten up, and the lights are too bright for Calum to see properly, but he sees a flash of a smile that looks so much like one he hasn’t seen in almost four years that it makes something electric shoot through him before he’s even processed it, and then they’re turning around and heading off the stage. 

“Fucking shite,” Liam says, over the sound of the crowd’s growing murmurs. “Would’ve rather watched City fucking lose.” They all know he’s lying. Liam’d probably rather cut off his limbs one at a time than sit at home to watch City get thrashed. 

It reminds Calum where he is, though, as he takes a sip of his beer with slightly shaky hands. He’s in fucking Manchester, in a dingy bar with two of the biggest pricks he’s ever met in his life, watching shitty bands play mediocre songs to avoid having to watch his football team get massacred by Everton. It grounds him, shakes him out of it, makes him remember that he’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now. 

But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford. 

 -------

 They stay to watch three more bands, and then Liam’s in a fucking mood and even Noel’s had enough of the music, so they head back to Noel’s flat to drink and get high. Liam and Noel bicker the whole way there, first about whether or not Liam should be paying for all the weed Noel buys that he smokes, then about whether or not Liam had actually slept over last night or whether he’d been at home, then about whether or not the shirt their mam had bought Noel for Christmas had been green or blue. Calum offers his input on all of them, siding with Noel twice and Liam once, but gets snapped at to shut the fuck up by the both of them each time, making him roll his eyes as he kicks stones along the pavement. 

(“Noel’s a fucking cunt,” Liam had said to him once, fuming, after a particularly nasty argument that had ended in every bag of frozen peas being dug out of the freezer. 

“Yeah,” Calum had said. “So are you, though, mate.” 

“Don’t call my brother a cunt,” Liam had said, and Calum had rolled his eyes, picking up the now-defrosted bag of peas on the table and taking them back into the kitchen, where Noel was nursing his own black eye. 

“What the fuck is his problem?” Noel had said furiously. 

“You’re both twats,” Calum had said with a shrug, tossing the peas back in the freezer.

“Hey,” Noel had said sharply. “That’s my fucking brother.” 

Calum’ll never pretend to understand them.) 

They spend the night lying on Noel’s living room floor, pleasantly drunk and so stoned that Liam and Noel forget to argue for about three hours. Calum drifts in and out of sleep, listening to Liam and Noel mumbling to each other and remembering to speak once every twenty minutes or so, until Noel nudges him at what must be about five in the morning. 

“What’d you reckon?” he says, looking thoughtful. 

“About what?” 

“That band, tonight.” They saw five bands, so Calum would be well within his rights to ask which one, but somehow, he knows. 

“Good,” he says. “Interesting. Sounded new, y’know?” 

“Yeah,” Noel says, rolling on his side to face Calum. He hums, like he’s thinking Calum’s words over. “Liam reckons they’re not rock ‘n’ roll enough.” Calum rolls his eyes. 

“Liam reckons the fucking Stones aren’t rock ‘n’ roll enough,” he says, and Noel snorts, and it sounds so fucking ridiculous that Calum giggles, which makes Noel burst out laughing, and soon they’re cackling on the floor, tears streaming down their faces as they gasp for breath and clutch at their stitches. Liam, who’s been sleeping soundly, looking peaceful and tranquil and not at all like the guy who’d threatened to knock Calum’s teeth out for suggesting City should have played a different formation not six hours ago, stirs and opens his eyes, blinking blearily. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he mumbles, and then rolls over, and goes back to sleep. Noel glances at Calum, flushed and panting from laughing, eyes bright and gleaming, and that one look is enough to make the both of them collapse in laughter again, cheeks and sides and throats hurting. 

The next morning, when Liam wakes Calum up by nudging him in the ribs and saying get up, lazy bugger, we’re late for work, that’s what Calum remembers from the night before. He remembers laughter, Noel’s living room going blurry around the edges, and the pleasant buzz of alcohol, weed and two of his best mates thrumming through his veins. He doesn’t remember the boy on guitar in the Boardwalk.

 ------- 

 The next time fate has her way with Calum is a good year and a half later. 

They’re recording their first album, which Noel seems to think means he’s recording his first album and everyone else is just there to complement his fucking genius. He’s not managed to stop being a cunt for about six months now, and, not one to let Noel beat him in anything, Liam’s getting equally insufferable. The studio is a fucking battleground, and Bonehead always takes Liam’s side and Tony’s just fucking useless, and Calum thinks to himself at least twice a day: is this really worth it? Maybe I should’ve just stuck with construction. 

They’re getting there, though, and when it’s good, it’s fucking good. They can all sense that there’s something there, something new and bold and, as Noel in all his endless humility declares it one night, groundbreaking. They’ve recorded Supersonic, a song that Noel somehow wrote in about half an hour, recorded a video for it on the roof of some warehouse in London, and there’s something about it that none of them can quite put their finger on, something that feels almost overwhelming, feels like it’s bigger than them. They’ve even been on the radio a few times, been playing bigger and bigger venues, got a contract and management and all that nonsense, and for all the flaws that combine to make up the Gallagher brothers, Noel’s got a fucking knack for songwriting and Liam’s voice is unlike anything Calum’s heard before. 

The problem is that lately, it’s been bad more than it’s been good. They’d done sessions at Monnow Valley which had sounded like absolute shit, too clean and thin, and with every day that passed and every track that couldn’t be used Noel got more and more frantic, snapping at everyone who dared speak to him. Liam, never one to resist a fight with his brother, had risen to the challenge, and the fallout had been messier and dirtier and involved more collateral damage than even Calum had expected. It had culminated in a trip to Amsterdam which had ended before it even began after a fight broke out on the ferry. Calum remembers seeing Liam zooming past, a happy grin on his face, heading right for the middle of the action, and then twenty minutes later zooming past again, bruised and bloody, still grinning, being chased by a policeman. It had ended in Liam being deported, handcuffs and all, and a screaming match between the brothers in which both of them quit and were fired by the other at least twenty-three times. 

Since that, though, things have got a little better. They’ve started recording in Sawmills in Cornwall with Noel as a co-producer, and Noel and Liam have started talking again, and everyone had breathed out a collective sigh of relief when Noel had announced he was going to head to the shops and Liam had wordlessly got up to join him. Slowly but surely, things have started looking up. 

It’s in the middle of one of those sessions that everything changes. 

“Eeyar, Calum,” Noel calls, from the corridor outside. “Your mam’s on the phone.” Calum sighs - fucking hell, what does his mum not understand about we’re recording an album and I’m twenty-two years old, I’ll call you when I fucking call you - but puts his bass aside and gets up grudgingly, trotting outside to see Noel holding out the receiver for him. 

“I want you back in in ten,” he says warningly, like he’s Calum’s dad and they’re eating dinner soon, and Calum rolls his eyes and flips him off, which is as good of a yes as Noel’s going to get. Noel sticks his tongue out at him and heads back into the studio, probably to yell at Bonehead from the soundboard for being too loud, or maybe too quiet, or maybe too middling. He’ll find something. 

“What?” Calum says, a little irritably, lifting the receiver to his ear. 

“Hello to you too, Calum,” his mum says smartly. “I haven’t heard from you in over a week.” Calum rests his arm against the wall, and his forehead against his arm, and stares at his shoes. 

“I’m recording an album, mum,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too annoyed. “We’re busy.” She makes a small hmm, a you should have stayed in a real job kind of hmm, but doesn’t push it. 

“Are you eating well?” she asks, a stern undertone to her voice, like she knows Calum’s diet right now is entirely liquid. 

“Yes,” Calum lies. He gets another disapproving hmm for his trouble which sounds like it might be the prelude to a speech about how he should stop wasting his time and come home and do a proper job and eat some vegetables, so he decides to change tack. “How’s home?” 

“Oh, home’s good,” his mum says. “Janet next door’s got a new man, invited us to the wedding next month - can you imagine? A wedding in March? I said to her, I said ‘you’ll be wanting to move it to May’, and she said ‘oh, we want an indoor wedding anyway’.” Calum hums noncommittally, because he has absolutely no idea what that’s supposed to mean. What the fuck’s wrong with an indoor wedding in March? “Anyway, your dad and I have decided to go. Janet extended the invitation to you, too, but I said I didn’t know if you’d be back from your recording session.” 

“I don’t know either,” Calum says. “Noel’s being a right cunt about the whole thing.”  

“Calum,” his mum says reprovingly, like she wasn’t the one he picked the word up from in the first place. “Well, regardless, you’ll be home by April, won’t you? I told your dad you’d help fix the wall in the garden.” Calum groans, because that’s pretty much the last thing on the list of things he wants to do, including having Noel claw his eyeballs out for fucking up the bass on Supersonic again, and his mum tuts. “You’ve got experience in construction, Calum. You should put those skills to good use.” 

“I’ve never fixed a fucking wall, mum,” he says. 

“Well, the wall needs fixing,” she says, like that’s that. The wall needs fixing, so Calum’s got to suddenly develop the skills to do it. 

(For her, though, Calum’ll do it.) 

“What’s wrong with it?” he says, already mentally ringing up the cost of the bricks and mortar he’s going to need. “Looked fine last time I was home.” 

“I think the ivy must have loosened the cement,” his mum says. “I was watching TV the other night - I saw Michael on Top of the Pops, actually - and then-”

“Hang on,” Calum interrupts, because he only knows two Michaels, and one of them’s here in Cornwall with him. “Michael who?” 

“Michael Clifford,” his mum says, like it’s obvious. “Anyway, then I heard a huge crash outside, and I told your dad to go and take a look, and he said the wall had caved in. Just a bit, you know, near the shed, but-” she’s still talking, something about foxes and de-weeding the garden, but Calum’s not listening. 

Michael Clifford, she’d said, like it was simple and obvious. Like it stood to reason that she saw him on Top of the fucking Pops. Like it made sense that Calum’s childhood best friend, his fucking everything from the age of seven to seventeen, was on a British music show. 

“Michael Clifford?” he repeats, in the middle of whatever his mum’s saying. 

“Yes,” she says, sounding a little annoyed that Calum’s not listening to her impassioned speech about ivy. “Anyway, your dad said he’d need some help with it, and that it can wait until you’re back. But I want it done as soon as you are, because I don’t like the idea of Janet being able to see into our garden. Oh, that’s the chicken done. Call me in a few days, let me know how things are. Give the others my best. Love you.” She doesn’t even wait for a response, just hangs up, leaving Calum staring at the floor with a dial tone ringing in his ear and a name bouncing around in his mind. 

It can’t be him. She must have been mistaken. What the fuck would Michael Clifford be doing on Top of the Pops? What the fuck would Michael Clifford even be doing in Britain? The last Calum had heard from him, about a year and a half after he’d left Sydney, Michael had been sure about becoming a policeman. He’d seemed so dead set on it, had signed himself up for the academy and everything. Calum might not have heard from him in almost half a decade, but he’s pretty sure nobody would stray so far from ‘policeman in Sydney’ to end up at ‘musician in Britain’. No, he thinks, shaking his head and pushing himself off the wall with his arm, his mum must have been wrong. She hasn’t seen Michael since they’d moved from Sydney five years ago either, so it’s understandable that she’d mixed him up with someone else. 

But, a little voice says, as he heads back into the studio and is greeted with the sight of Liam sprawled across the sofa, laughing at something Noel’s just said, both of them looking far too high-spirited for Gallaghers, she watched Michael grow up. She knew his face better than you ever did. 

“‘Ere,” Liam says, interrupting the voice in Calum’s mind as it’s about to start reeling off a list of times Calum’s mum had spotted Michael in a crowd or down the road or in a photo before Calum had. “Noel says he’ll sprint around the house naked if Tony doesn’t fuck up his drums on this take. What d’you reckon?” 

“I reckon it’s a good thing Tony can’t fucking play drums then, isn’t it?” Calum says, as Liam drops his feet to the floor to make room for Calum on the sofa. Liam snorts, and Noel scowls, but his eyes are still lit up with amusement. 

“Well, I reckon you’re both cunts,” Noel tells them, and Calum grins, hoping they don’t see the way it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and reaches over for Liam’s beer to try and calm his churning stomach. 

 -------

 Calum can’t sleep that night. 

He’s usually so drunk that Liam’s gentle snoring doesn’t even register to him as he throws himself down on his bed, often fully-dressed, and falls right asleep, only waking up to fumble around for paracetamol in the middle of the night when his throbbing headache overpowers his exhaustion. He’s not used to lying there, stomach still unsettled, mind racing, staring blankly up at the ceiling, growing more and more frustrated by the noise of Liam sleeping. 

Liam rolls over in his sleep, mutters something under his breath, and then his breathing evens out again, and Calum times the minutes passing by the way he breathes in, out, in, out. The moonlight’s getting brighter - or maybe it’s the sun rising, he’s not sure - and eventually, when Liam rolls over again and smacks his lips in his sleep, Calum’s had enough. He gets up, pads out of the room and down the stairs, heading in the direction of the kitchen for a drink. 

He’s surprised, though, when he pushes the door open, to find Noel sat at the breakfast bar, a sheet of paper in front of him, still wearing the same clothes from the day before. He turns around at the noise of the door opening and mumbles something that sounds vaguely like a greeting to Calum, who grunts back at him as he grabs a glass out of the cupboard and fills it with water. 

“Can’t sleep?” Noel asks, and Calum raises his eyebrows over the glass of water he’s gulping down. 

“No,” he says, setting the glass down on the counter. “You?” Noel shakes his head. 

“‘S Bonehead’s fucking snoring,” he says, by way of an explanation, but Calum’s known Noel for five years now, and knows him better than that. 

“And that’s why you’re still dressed?” Calum says shrewdly. 

“Fuck off,” Noel mutters, raising a can of beer to his lips so he won’t have to say anything else. Calum sighs and shakes his head, but chooses not to push him on it, hopping up on the counter and swinging his legs. 

“You writing?” he asks, and Noel looks down at the sheet of paper under his hand, and shrugs. 

“Trying,” he says. Calum hums, and the two of them lapse into a comfortable silence for a while. 

It helps, Calum finds, to be with Noel. He’s never been a man of many words - neither him nor Liam have ever been particularly gifted in that area - but Calum knows he’s always safe with Noel, thrives in the quiet comfort of Noel’s presence. Noel never asks, never pushes, but he’s always there if Calum ever needs anything, and even though they never speak about it, they both know the same is true vice versa. 

(Calum can count on one hand the number of times he’s needed Noel, and can count on one finger the number of times Noel’s needed him.)

That’s not to say Noel doesn’t have his moments, though. He’s obstinate, brash, loud, arrogant, thinks his opinion is worth at least twelve times as much as anyone else’s, and takes himself far too seriously half the time. Calum’s had some of his most memorable arguments with Noel, edged out only slightly by how spectacular his arguments with Liam have been. Both of those, however, are eclipsed by how fucking nuclear the arguments between Noel and Liam are. The two of them bring out both the worst and the best in each other, grating at each other’s virtues and soothing each other’s flaws. They don’t know how to be happy unless they’re dancing along the line between love and hate, and Calum’s not sure it’d work any other way. He’s seen them in their brief, private moments of peace - Liam’s head on Noel’s chest, Noel’s arm wrapped around him, Liam murmuring something about a song or a memory that makes Noel snort, which in turn makes Liam’s lips curve up in a proud smile - but neither of their ships could sail anywhere without a restless sea to guide them. They need the fighting, need the bickering, even need the punches, to keep the wheels turning. A conversation’s not really begun if Noel and Liam haven’t called each other cunts at least twice, Calum thinks, and if Calum’s not been called upon by both of them to call the other a cunt within ten seconds of the inevitable argument breaking out. 

It had been an argument like that a year or so ago that had led to them traipsing to the Boardwalk to watch that band play. Calum remembers the energy they had, raw and a little off-kilter but something there all the same, remembers the lyrical shouting of the singer and the way he’d bounced all over the stage, but not as much as he remembers the guitarist. 

He’d looked so familiar, blonde hair and posture combining to make Calum’s heart ache like no music had ever quite managed to. It couldn’t have been him, though, he’d told himself. There was absolutely no way that Michael Clifford could have been playing in the fucking Boardwalk. Michael was in Sydney, back home, probably sunning himself on Bondi Beach and laughing at something Ashton was saying as Luke grinned at Ashton with wide blue eyes. Michael wasn’t in Manchester. 

Except, a little voice in his head says, maybe he was. Maybe Calum’s mum hadn’t mistaken some guy in a band on Top of the Pops for Michael. Maybe it was Michael. 

“D’you know that band we saw, a few years ago?” Calum says, out of the blue, before the thought to say the words has even crossed his mind. Noel looks up at him, thick brows furrowed. 

“Seen a lot of fucking bands,” he says, a little slowly, like he’s trying to figure out what Calum’s actually asking. Calum half-considers dropping the subject entirely, but Noel’s been in the business far longer than he has, and if anyone’s going to know, it’s him.

“The one in the bar. After the City match.” Noel purses his lips, brows creasing further, before nodding thoughtfully. 

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah. They’re famous now, they are.” 

“Oh,” Calum says, and swallows. That’s not what he expected - or, he finds, wanted - to hear. 

“Yeah. Heard their first record. Or maybe it was their second, I don’t know. It wasn’t all that.” 

“What’re they called, again?” Calum asks, hoping the question sounds innocent, but Noel’s eyes narrow a fraction. 

“Blur,” he says. 

“Blur,” Calum repeats, testing the word out, letting it sit on his tongue. 

“Why?” 

“No reason,” Calum says. Noel looks at him for a moment, like he’s weighing up whether or not to say something, but then seems to let it go, shaking his head.

“You’re a fucking odd one, you are,” he says, which is the nicest thing he’s said to Calum in months. 

“Cheers,” Calum says, with a grin. “Good-looking, too.” 

“Don’t push it,” Noel warns, and Calum laughs, swinging his legs. 

“What’re you writing, then?” he asks. Noel looks back down at the sheet of paper. 

“Don’t know, really,” he says. “Just can’t seem to get it right.” 

“Want me to take a look?” Calum offers. 

“You?” Noel says sceptically. “You barely even play a fucking instrument.” 

“Bass is a fucking instrument, you prick,” Calum says, only half-incensed. 

“You’re up there with the fucking tambourine player,” Noel says, but there’s a smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

“Fuck off,” Calum says, and Noel leans back in the chair, grinning. “You’re the one who bought him that fucking tambourine, anyway.” 

“Little twat might as well do something worthwhile,” Noel says, like Liam’s voice isn’t one of the two indispensable elements they’ve got. 

“At least I can play guitar,” Calum counters. Noel raises an eyebrow.

“Playing?” he says. “Well. If that’s what you want to call it.” Calum scowls and flips him off, and Noel just laughs and gives him a two-fingered salute in return.

“Go on, then,” he says, shoving the piece of paper to the edge of the breakfast bar. “Let’s see how much damage can be done to my genius.” Calum rolls his eyes but reaches over to pull the piece of paper towards him. There’s barely anything on there, just two lines: I can’t tell you the way I feel/Because the way I feel is oh so new to me. Fucking hell. 

“I’m off to bed,” Noel says, like he can sense the questions bubbling under the surface of Calum’s frown, and pushes himself back from the breakfast bar. Calum looks up, catches the brief look of don’t you dare fucking ask me what that’s about that flits across Noel’s face, just the most fractional chink in his armour, and nods, hopping off the counter and tucking the sheet of paper into his pocket. He should probably try and get some sleep too, if only because he’s going to have to be in the best frame of mind possible to deal with how insufferable Noel’s going to be tomorrow on three hours’ sleep. 

“I’m going to smother your brother if he’s not stopped snoring,” he tells Noel, following him out of the room. Noel snorts as he starts up the stairs, that strange mixture of derisive and fond that the Gallaghers manage so well. 

“You’ve got more of a fucking chance of him waking up a bird than you do getting him to stop snoring,” he says. Calum sighs, all long-suffering, like this is news to him, even though he’s been sleeping in rooms with Liam since they were seventeen and sixteen respectively.

“Good thing the tambourine player’s expendable, then,” he says, and Noel laughs, soft and quiet in the stillness of the night. 

“You’d be doing the world a fucking favour,” he says, but there’s a strong edge of pride and fondness that Noel only ever gets when talking about Liam, and Liam only ever gets when talking about Noel, and they never get when talking to each other. Calum thinks they’d probably both rather switch to being United fans than ever admit any semblance of love exists between the two of them, but it hums lowly beneath the surface, visible for anyone who bothers to look beyond the black eyes and hurled insults and weeks of refusing to even look at each other. No one can deny that the two of them fucking hate each other half the time, but without the push and pull of their relationship, without the back and forth and the give and take, the band couldn’t work. If the two of them ever lost that, if one of them ever pulled or pushed too hard, that’d be it. It should probably concern Calum more than it does that his entire career is poised on the knife’s edge that is Liam and Noel’s endless tug-of-war, but he's yet to lose the strangely settled feeling in his stomach every time Noel quits or fires Liam that tells him they'll be alright. You'll be alright. There are still better things to come. 

“You’re just saying that because you want to sing,” Calum retorts. 

“Nah,” Noel says with a grin, hand hovering over the door handle of his and Bonehead’s room. “I’m saying it because I want more royalties.” Calum rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning too. 

“I’ll see what I can do for you,” he promises. 

 -------

 As Calum had predicted, Noel’s a fucking nightmare the next day. 

He snaps at everyone who dares come within a ten metre radius of him, and, when everyone stops going into the same room Noel’s in, he specifically goes out of his way to find Liam to start an argument that ends in Liam complaining that one of his teeth is loose. 

(“It’s not fucking loose,” Bonehead says, and then decides to leave the room, presumably because he doesn’t want to deal with Liam’s moaning and whining. Calum can’t really blame him, and starts to shift surreptitiously towards the door himself.

“Since when are you a fucking dentist, you cunt?” Liam shouts after him, and Bonehead flips him off as he walks away. “You’re coming with me to the dentist, you are.” He’s rounded on Calum now, blocking the path to the door, and Calum sighs. 

“If we get more beer on the way back,” he bargains, and Liam nods.) 

That’s how Calum’s ended up in some posh dental surgery, spread out across a leather sofa and looking very incongruous in his oversized shirt and baggy jeans amongst the glass and the fancy-looking plants, waiting for Liam to come out of his appointment. It’s taking far longer than he’d expected - he’d thought it’d be a quick your tooth’s not fucking loose, you knob, you’ve definitely had worse, like everyone else had told him, but Liam’s been in there for a good fifteen minutes now, and Calum’s getting bored. 

The receptionist keeps making eyes at him, and Calum can’t tell whether they’re I want to fuck you eyes or whether they’re you look like you’re going to try and rob this dental surgery eyes, so eventually he picks up the nearest magazine off the coffee table and flicks it open to a random page just for something to look at that isn’t her. 

There’s a very pretty guy staring back at him when he looks down, blonde and blue-eyed and grinning inanely at the camera, and the caption reads BLUR: the cocky rebels you’re allowed to love. 

Blur. That’s what Noel had called the band from that bar in Manchester last night. They’re famous now, they are, he’d said.  

Calum barely even notices the way his heart speeds up as his eyes fly across the page, scanning the article for any mention of Michael before he really realises what he’s looking for. The author and the singer - Damon, apparently - keep referring to a Mike, an Australian Mike, which puts Calum right on edge, but Michael had never gone by Mike. He fucking hated it, corrected anyone who called him anything other than Michael, refused to respond to any teachers who tried to call him Mike, threw glowers at any classmates who did the same. He’d barely even let Calum call him Mikey in his most vulnerable moments, rubbing small circles on his back soothingly as he coaxed him to throw up all the cheap booze they’d nicked from the corner shop. 

Calum’s fingers are slick with sweat as he’s turning the page and his eyes are starting to water from how little he’s blinking, and he’s not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing, whether he wants Mike to be Michael or not. When he reaches the bottom of the second page, however, Calum’s heart stops. 

There’s a picture of the whole band. Damon’s standing second from the left, right arm holding his left bicep, head tilted upwards, looking lazy and effortlessly beautiful, like he fucking knows he’s worth looking at. It reminds Calum of Liam a little bit, the way he plays into the camera, the way he knows that with a small tilt of his chin and a slight lowering of his lashes he’ll have half the fucking nation on their knees for him. Maybe that’s just the way singers need to be, Calum thinks, eyes flitting to the ginger guy to Damon’s left, who looks a little uncomfortable, and then to the guy directly on Damon’s right; tall, broody-looking, dark hair swept across his face. To his right is a shorter dark-haired man, looking tense and on edge, and to his right is-

Michael Clifford. 

There’s no mistaking him. He’s got the same blonde hair still sticking up at all sorts of angles, the same sleepy, sea green eyes, the same pretty lips slightly parted in a pout. He’s holding himself confidently, miles away from the slightly scrawny teenager Calum had left behind, staring into the lens of the camera like it’s a challenge. Come on, Calum. Tell yourself I ever stopped mattering to you, go on. 

Calum doesn’t need to read the caption to know it’s Michael, knows it from the way he’s clutching his right wrist with his left hand, but does it anyway, one final, desperate grasp at a straw - from left to right: David Rowntree, Damon Albarn, Alex James, Graham Coxon, Michael Clifford. 

Michael Clifford. 

The words seem to sort of swim in front of Calum’s eyes, like they’re not really there, like his mind’s superimposed them on the article somehow, but the picture’s still there, clear as day. Michael, a hint of stubble on his jaw, face more angled and figure fuller and shoulders broader and God, he looks so fucking good that Calum’s stomach flips and drops and flips again. 

“-fucking hell, Earth to fucking Cal,” Liam says, sounding sort of muffled, and Calum nearly drops the magazine in shock, yanked back into reality so suddenly and jarringly by the sound of his voice. 

“What?” he says, looking up to see Liam with an irritated expression on his face, cradling one cheek in his hand. 

“Let’s fucking go,” Liam says, already halfway to the door. Calum stares after him for a moment, mind trying to process Liam wants to leave over the tangled jumble of Michael Michael Michael currently winding its way through every cell in his brain, before he jumps up, magazine still in his hand. 

“Sir,” the receptionist calls immediately, like she’s had her eye on him the whole time. “You can’t take the magazine with you.” Calum looks down at the magazine, and Liam turns around from the door, a slight tension in his posture that Calum recognises as the one he gets when he’s spoiling for a fucking fight. Christ, he’s not about to deck the fucking receptionist, is he? 

“Or what?” Liam says, a little menacingly. “You gonna fucking stop him?” 

“I just-” 

“What the fuck do you want with the fucking magazine, eh? Fucking paid enough for the appointment, buy yourself another." 

“C’mon,” Calum mutters, rolling the magazine up and hurrying over to Liam, putting a hand on the small of his back. “Let’s go.” Liam hesitates for a moment, like he’s torn between going to get beer or shouting at a receptionist, but eventually the alcohol seems to win in his mind, because he settles for throwing her one final glare and letting Calum guide him out of the door. 

“What’d they say?” Calum asks as they walk out, his hand still on Liam’s back, because he knows Liam better than to trust he won’t just change his mind on a whim and go storming back in to give the receptionist a piece of his mind for not wanting Calum to take a fucking magazine. 

“Don’t fucking know,” Liam mutters, pushing open the door to outside. Calum shivers a little when the cool late-February air hits him, and decides that Liam’s probably safe now, letting go of him to wrap his arms around himself as they head back to the car that’s been waiting for them. “Sounded like he said something about my flaps.” Calum snorts. 

“Bit forward of him,” he says, and Liam grins. 

“Why’d you take that fucking magazine, then, eh?” he says, rounding the car without looking into the road and flipping off the car that has to screech to a halt to avoid running him over. 

“What?” Calum says, a touch shiftily. “Oh. Saw a good article in it. Wanted to finish reading it.” Liam throws him a look over the top of the car, a look that’s unnervingly shrewd, but then shakes his head and ducks into the car. Calum does the same, taking a moment to tuck the magazine into his pocket and feeling it weigh down one side of him, unbalancing him just slightly. It’s kind of apt, he thinks as he gets into the car. Michael had always made him feel a little unbalanced, too. 

“Let’s get some fucking beer,” Liam announces, and Calum grins, trying not to think about the way the magazine feels pressed between him and the seat. 

“Let’s get some fucking beer,” he agrees.

 -------

 Calum doesn’t look at the magazine again until a good week later. 

He’s drunk, and maybe still a little high, which is the driving force behind the whole evening. They all are, because Liam had scored some great coke off some guy called Neville, which Calum had declared to be the funniest dealer name in all of history, leading Bonehead to admit that his weed dealer used to be called Barnaby. Noel had sided with Calum, claiming Neville was far worse than Barnaby, and, predictably, Liam had jumped straight in on Bonehead’s side, and after about two minutes of shouting Tony had mumbled something about not being drunk enough for this and slipped out of the room. 

“Fucking useless,” Liam says derisively, as Tony walks out. “I should fire him.” 

“I fired you two days ago,” Noel says, pointing at Liam with the card he’s using to cut up the coke. “You can’t be firing anyone.” 

“It’s my fucking band,” Liam says, incensed, like it’s not actually Bonehead’s band that Liam had wheedled his way into. 

“Who writes the fucking songs?” Noel counters. “You just play the fucking tambourine and look mardy.” 

“Fucking greatest frontman in the world, I am,” Liam says indignantly. 

“You’re too fucking high to find the front of the stage half the time,” Noel says contemptuously. 

“I know where the front of the fucking stage is,” Liam says, pointing at Noel with one hand and Calum with the other. “‘S between knobheads numbers one and two.” Noel rolls his eyes, too busy cutting lines to flip him off, so Calum does it on both of their behalfs, and Liam grins, swigging from his beer. 

“Save us a fucking line,” Bonehead says to Noel, who’s just bent down to hoover up at least four of the thin white lines on the table. 

“Get your fucking own,” Noel grumbles, like he’s the one who’d scored it, not Liam, but he lets Bonehead push him aside, slumping back against the sofa. 

“Greedy cunt,” Bonehead mutters, and Noel swats him upside the head, handing him the card. 

“We should have a fucking celebration,” Liam declares grandly, gesturing widely with his beer bottle. 

“For what?” Noel says. “Album’s not even fucking finished yet.” 

“Sounds fucking great, though,” Liam says. 

“Well, you’ve clearly not heard it then, have you?” Calum says with a snort, accepting the card Bonehead holds out to him and leaning over towards the coke. There’s not much left, but Liam’ll fucking do one if he doesn’t leave any for him. “Fucking hell, Noel. You a fucking vacuum?” Noel just grins and shrugs at him, cocaine clearly starting to settle into his veins, and Calum rolls his eyes, cutting two thin lines for himself and leaving enough for the same for Liam. 

“It’ll sound great once it’s mixed,” Liam insists, as Calum bends down.  

“That’s what you said last time,” Bonehead points out. 

“No I fucking didn’t,” Liam says, even though he’d literally spent about a week bouncing around saying it’ll sound fucking great when it’s mixed, just you fucking wait. It’ll be fucking biblical. Calum straightens, wincing slightly and pinching the end of his nose, and throws Liam a look. 

“You fucking did,” he says. Liam scowls at him, and motions for the card. “Come over here. No way you’ll reach the coke from over there.” Liam rolls his eyes but complies, heaving himself up and then throwing himself down next to Calum, making a noise of outrage when he sees how little is left for him. 

“What the fuck, Noel?” he demands, and Noel just cackles. Christ, he’s blitzed out of his fucking mind already. 

“We should fucking celebrate,” Noel says, like he hadn’t shot down Liam saying it not two minutes ago. 

“Celebrate what, you prick?” Calum says, wrinkling his nose as the bitter cocaine drips down his throat. Fucking grim. At least his mouth will be too numb to taste it soon. 

“Fucking all of it,” Noel says. “Us. Recording an album. The fact that we’re going to be number fucking one.” Calum snorts, but he’s starting to feel a little giddy, a little warmer, and he leans back with a grin. 

“Number fucking one,” he repeats, and Liam nods solemnly next to him. 

“Fucking right,” he says, like it’s what they’re owed. Calum catches Bonehead’s eye and grins, knows he’s thinking exactly what Calum’s thinking - yeah, us two fucking deserve it for putting up with the both of you. 

“Just wait ‘til we release Supersonic,” Calum says, shuffling up a little to rest his head on Liam’s shoulder. Liam’s arm comes around him, warm and comforting, and he squeezes Calum absent-mindedly as he hums contentedly. Calum lets his eyes flutter shut, euphoric and a little overheated, grinning to himself as he lets himself fantasise. Number fucking one, he thinks to himself. Fucking imagine. 

“Knock those Blur cunts off the top,” Noel says, and Calum’s eyes fly open. 

“What?” he says. 

“Their new song,” Noel says scornfully. “Fucking, what’s it? Girls who like boys who like girls who like boys, something like. Fucking shite.” 

“New song?” Calum echoes, mind trying to work around the cocaine to process what he’s being told. 

“Am I the only one who fucking listens to the radio?” Noel demands. “That’s our fucking competition, that is. We’ve got to knock them off the top spot.” 

“Competition,” Calum says slowly. Competition. Michael Clifford is his competition. 

And, fucking hell. Does Michael even know Calum’s his competition? Does Michael even know Calum’s in Oasis - does Michael even remember Calum? It’s been what, four fucking years now since the letters had petered out, since Calum had got too caught up in his new life of Liam and Noel and drugs and music and Michael had been too busy with his family and friends and the fucking police academy. Michael might not even recognise Calum, might not even remember his name. 

(Something tells him, though, even through the haze of drugs and alcohol, that they could never forget each other. After all, it says, who forgets their first kiss? Who forgets their first fuck? Who, it says, a little too knowingly for Calum’s liking, forgets their first love?) 

Liam seems to have sensed something’s up because he’s frowning, waving a hand in Calum’s face, and Calum blinks, shakes his head abruptly and sits bolt upright. He stopped loving Michael. He fucking did, no matter what the churning in his stomach might be telling him. That’s just the fucking booze.

“What the fuck’s up with you?” Liam says, sounding annoyed.

“Don’t feel great,” Calum says, which isn’t entirely untrue. The high’s too high, and the alcohol’s making his stomach clench and contract, and he’s sweating a little too much, and his hands are clammy, and- 

“Oh, fucking hell,” he says, a little faintly, and lurches to his feet, crashing into the bathroom next door and only just making it to the toilet bowl before he’s throwing up everything he’d ingested in the previous twenty-four hours. He’s glad he’s still high because it means he can’t quite taste the bile in his throat, can’t entirely feel the way his stomach’s heaving that he distantly registers is going to absolutely fucking kill tomorrow. 

Halfway through his retching someone appears behind him, kneeling down beside him and rubbing small circles on his back comfortingly. Calum feels fucking pathetic, slumped over the toilet bowl with tears leaking out of his eyes, someone making quiet, soothing sounds behind him, all because of fucking Michael Clifford. 

(That thought makes him retch once again.)

“Waste of fucking coke, that is,” the person says mildly when he’s finished, leaning up and flushing for him, and it’s Liam. Of course it’s Liam. No one else would willingly spend their short high in a tiny, cramped bathroom watching Calum throw up. Noel would probably lock him in and turn off the water supply, maybe grab a camcorder for good measure. 

Calum huffs out something that’s supposed to be a laugh but sounds like more of a sob as he sits back, wipes his upper lip and forehead and rests his head against the cool tile wall. Liam sits down opposite him, legs pressed against Calum’s because they’re both too fucking big for the bathroom on their own let alone together, and blinks at him. 

“Fuck brought that on?” he says, more curious than anything. Calum’s stomach lurches again, images of Michael smiling at him sleepily on a Saturday morning, of Michael with his head tipped back in detention, laughing at something Calum had said, and the picture of him in the magazine, so much older and yet so fucking familiar, flashing through his mind in rapid succession. 

“Probably just overdid it,” he says weakly. Liam gives him a hard stare. 

“A fucking baby would’ve had a hard time getting high on what you snorted,” he says. 

“Baby wouldn’t’ve drunk five fucking beers beforehand, though,” Calum says, coughing slightly and wincing as he tastes the echo of acid at the back of his throat. 

“Depends whose baby it is,” Liam says. “Pretty sure mine would.” Calum snorts, and lets his eyes flutter shut as he starts to come back to himself a little, shivering and wrapping his arms around himself as he realises how cold he is. Fuck, he’s all clammy. Gross. 

Almost as though he can read Calum’s thoughts, Liam nudges Calum’s knee with his own. 

“You’re fucking rank,” he says. 

“Cheers,” Calum says, not opening his eyes. 

“Take a fucking shower.” Calum pulls a face. He’s not in the fucking mood to shower. 

“Tomorrow,” he says. It’s not like Liam’s never done the same. 

“You’re fucking rank, ” Liam tells him again, like he’d not thrown up in the sink two nights ago and left it there overnight, but he puts his hand on Calum’s shin and pats it, and Calum offers him a weak smile. 

“You don’t have to stay,” he says. 

“What, go back in there and listen to our kid break his neck sucking his own cock? Don’t fucking think so,” Liam scoffs. “I’ll be fucking sober in five minutes, anyway, given the amount of coke you pricks left me.” Calum smiles again, a little less wobbly this time. 

“Sober?” he says. “You drank twice as much as me.” 

“Not all of us are fucking Aussies, though, are we?” Liam says, and Calum can hear the grin in his voice. “Might as well be a fucking southerner, you.” That makes Calum open his eyes a fraction, enough to glare at Liam. 

“Piss off,” he says. “You and your fucking Irish blood. I’d drink anyone else under the fucking table.” 

“Fucking right,” Liam says proudly. “Never met anyone who could outdrink me, let alone an Aussie.”

“You’ve never met any except me, you prick,” Calum says, and Liam grins. 

“Well, most of you fuckers are smart enough to stay where it’s warm and sunny and the birds are fit, aren’t you?” he says. “Only the stupid ones end up here.” Calum scowls, and kicks at Liam’s leg half-heartedly. 

“Fuck off,” he says. “Didn’t choose to move here, did I? Got dragged kicking and screaming.” 

“But you’re still here,” Liam points out, and Calum finds he doesn’t have an answer to that. At least, he thinks, not one he’s willing to give Liam. 

“You must miss it,” Liam says when Calum doesn’t answer, a little surprised, like the thought’s only just crossed his mind after five fucking years of friendship. Which, knowing Liam, is probably the case. 

“Australia?” Liam hums his assent. “Dunno. I guess. I miss Vegemite.” He hesitates, before adding: “Mostly miss my mates, though.” 

“Oh?” Liam says, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You still talk to them?” Calum shrugs, a little uncomfortably. After all, it had been him that had ignored the last letter Michael had sent him. He’s the one who hadn’t written back. 

“No,” he says. “Phone calls are too expensive, and none of us are fucked writing letters.” 

“Ah, well,” Liam says, stretching out on the tiles and sighing contentedly. “Just you fucking wait ‘til we’re number one. You’ll see them then. We’ll be touring Australia three times a year, and that.” Calum can’t help but snort. 

“Three times a year?” he says. “There’s only five fucking cities worth playing in.” Liam grins. 

“And you’d better have friends in all of them, mate,” he says. “Not bloody paying for hotels if I can help it.” 

“My mates are all in Sydney,” Calum says, and there’s a little tug in his chest as he realises that actually, that might not be true anymore. He doesn’t know what happened to Ashton and Luke, either. If Michael can go from police cadet in Sydney to fucking famous musician in the UK then Ashton and Luke are probably, like, astronauts, or something. Maybe he should check with the ASA. 

“What?” Liam says curiously, clearly seeing the expression on Calum’s face, and Calum hesitates.

He’s not sure whether he should tell Liam. What the fuck would he even say? My ex, sort of, is in the band Noel’s lining up as our competition? You know Blur? Yeah, I fucked one of the guitarists. Liam wouldn’t get it. Great, he’d say, eyes gleaming. Eeyar, you must have some good stories about him. You can embarrass him in the press. Or maybe, get in, mate. Infiltrate them, eh? Fucking good thought. Oi, that Damon’s alright, isn’t he? Maybe I’ll have it on with him. He wouldn’t understand the weight behind it, what Michael meant to Calum. Means to Calum. Fuck, he doesn’t know anymore. 

“I think a mate of mine might have moved over here,” Calum says eventually, when Liam raises an expectant eyebrow. It feels fucking weird calling Michael a mate. The word doesn’t feel quite complete in his mouth, like maybe there should be a soul prefixing it. 

“Oh aye?” Liam says, raising his other eyebrow too, like he knows what Calum might mean by ‘mate’. “Where’s he living?” 

“I don’t know,” Calum admits. Liam hums, like he’s thinking it over. 

“D’you want to know?” he says, in that strangely perceptive way he sometimes does. Calum shrugs, and hopes Liam doesn’t catch the tension in his shoulders. 

“Maybe,” he says. “Dunno. Depends.” He doesn’t elaborate, and Liam doesn’t ask him to. Instead, his emotional capacity probably filled for the night, he claps his hand on Calum’s thigh. 

“Want to see if we can get Noel to piss himself?” he says, eyes bright, and Calum can’t help but snort. 

“‘Course I fucking do,” he says, getting to his feet. Liam braces himself on the sink as he pulls himself up, a little unsteady, and grins. 

“Ten quid says he does,” he says, and Calum snorts. Noel had pissed himself once, three years ago, and Liam can’t fucking let go of it. 

“You don’t fucking have ten quid,” he says, following Liam out of the room, still feeling a little light-headed and woozy, but no longer nauseous. 

“Neither do you,” Liam counters, pushing open the door to the living room, and Calum has to concede there.

“How about the loser sucks the other’s dick, then?” he says, grinning, and Liam throws his head back as he laughs. 

“You’re on,” he says over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. 

“Who’s getting who to suck their dick?” Noel demands. 

“You’re helping me get Calum to suck my dick,” Liam tells him, throwing himself down on the sofa next to Noel and resting his head on Noel’s chest. Almost instinctively, Noel’s arm comes around him, holding him close. Calum could almost be fooled into thinking they’re in some sort of a truce, that the booze and cocaine have broken down the barrier of hatred between them and left only the underlying love, until Liam reaches forwards, picks up a bottle of beer and holds it to Noel’s lips with a wicked grin. 

“Drink up.”

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chapter two

[justcryingxx]

Bryce’s stepsister pt. 4

- part 1  part 2   part 3

not my gif ^

summary: you’re Bryce Walker his new stepsister and you get welcomed to the world on liberty high as a junior.

A/N: i’ll recommend reading my other parts first, if there are any mistakes lmk, english isn’t my first language. i haven’t seen season 4 yet so i’m sorry if a character did something wrong or idk. stay healthy and ily!

words: 1356 (sorry it’s short and late, i was busy)

warnings: cursing, abuse

I finished my routine and smiled, I did it! the coach gave a thumbs up and Monty smiled as well. The crowd started to leave and only the team and the cheerleaders were still here.

“I’m so proud of you meg” Monty said while spinning me in the air. I smiled “and I’m proud of you, you deserve to be captain!” he put me back on the ground, I was about to say something when jeff started talking “hey lovebirds, we’re going to mine, u coming?” I nodded when Mont spoke up “we’ll come later; you guys can go already”

Jeff nodded and they then walked away, Monty pulled my arm and walked me to the parking lot. “where are you taking me?” I asked Monty while I sat down, “you’ll see” he smiled, and he started driving. I got a text from Bryce;

Bryce

Where are you?

I’m with Monty , we’ll head over to Jeff’s later.

Alright, text me when you’re coming

Will do, bye!

 About ten minutes later Monty told you that we’re here, I saw old abandoned warehouses in front of me. we got out of the car, “what are we doing here?” I asked Monty while he took my hand and walked us inside of one of the warehouses. “I wanted to show you this place, I come here when I’m feeling sad or lonely or something” I looked around and slowly nodded while he continued, “none of the boys know this place, I brought you here because I want to let you in”

 We were standing across each other, I was holding his hands and listening to what he was saying, “what do you mean Mont?” I asked. He continued, “I’m bad at letting people in, because of things that happened in the past. I really like you Meg, I just met you a few weeks ago but you’ve brought the best up in me. I wanted to show you this place so that you know where to find me when things get rough and I hide myself again” I smiled “thanks, I appreciate that you wanted to show me this place” I kissed him on his cheek.

 Monty then gently kissed me, he stopped kissing and started talking, “I really like you Meg, I know that this might be too soon, but will you be my girlfriend? I want to have you beside me with whatever I’m doing, and I want to be there for you.” I smiled “I’d love to, but can we keep it a secret for a while? I want it to be ours and not let everyone’s opinions affect it.” He nodded “do we tell the boys or not?” I snorted “if we do that everyone will know within a day” he laughed “you’re right, we’ll keep it a secret for a while” I smiled, and we kissed. We then went to Jeff’s.

 I texted Bryce and we arrived quickly after, luckily, they didn’t ask any questions about why Monty and I were later. The afternoon was really fun, we laughed and swum.

 It was about a week later, liberty won the game last Friday, there hadn’t really happened anything on the party nor the last few days. It was Monday, I was supposed to go to Monty’s house after school but Jess asked me to hang out and she would’ve asked what I had planned if I said I couldn’t make it. Monty and I are doing good at keeping things a secret, he once pulled me into the janitor closet because he just had to kiss me because I looked incredibly hot, he had said. He’s been at my house when Bryce wasn’t there, and I went to his house as well.

 Justin and I were in last period when Mr. Porter came in the classroom, “Mrs. Everly, can you come with me? there’s someone for you.” I looked confused, grabbed my stuff, and followed him.

 “Hi nugget” I heard a male voice say, there’s only one person who calls me nugget: “Dad! What are you doing here?” I yelled while hugging him. “I moved back here, I missed you and Luke, plus I found an amazing woman who would’ve loved to meet you guys” he spoke excitedly, “I can’t wait to meet her! Does mom know?” I asked while we left the building. “yes, we’ve spoken about it and decided you’ll be at our place every Monday and Tuesday” I nodded, I loved it at mom’s and I didn’t know if I wanted to leave, but I finally could be with my father again. “soo who’s the woman? Daisy?” I nudged dad. He laughed “no that didn’t work out, Kiara” I snorted “player”.

 We arrived at his house, it’s beautiful. I’d texted Monty on the way there what happened and why I wasn’t at school. I also texted jess that I couldn’t hang out because I was planning on getting stuff for my new room.

 I had my new stuff arranged, I got my stuff at mom’s and I still hadn’t met his new girlfriend. She finally came back home when dad had just left to get groceries for the next day. It was about ten pm and I heard the door open, I walked towards the hallway and introduced myself “hi, I’m Megan, Larry’s daughter” I held my hand out in front of me expecting her to shake it,

“listen if you think you’re gonna have I good time here, you’re wrong. Larry’s going to be away for work most of the days and you’ll listen to me and do chores alright? You’re not going to take Larry away from me, and if you’ll ever disrespect me there will be consequences” she snapped. “you’re not my mother! If you can’t act decent towards me, you cant expect the same from me!” I shouted.

She grabbed my wrist firmly “you spoiled brat! You’re going to listen to me, and if you ever tell anyone about this, you’re dead!” she let go of my wrist and left the hallway, I looked at my wrist and saw blue/purple bruises starting to form. “an amazing woman” I citated my dad sarcastically.

 It was a few months later. Kiara acted so innocent to me when dad was around but the bruises on my body says differently, when Luke was there last week he once saw/heard it, he stood up for me but she then beat him, I really hated it there but we couldn’t tell dad.

We were at mom’s; Bryce wasn’t home, and Luke had just left. Monty was over, I didn’t tell him about how horrible Kiara was, because to be honest she frightened me. we were making out and he just took my shirt of when I realized he’s gonna see my bruises, I quickly stood up and tried to reach for my shirt “Meg what’s wrong?” he started, when he grabbed my wrists and pulled me back “woah what’s that?” 

he asked while pointing at my bruises, he looked at me concerned. “uhm I’m clumsy I walked against my door” I mumbled, while trying to kiss him again so he wouldn’t ask further. “seven times? Come on, tell me Meg, who did this to you?” he asked while standing up, stroking his hands across my body over the bruises. I stayed silent, looking at the floor. “Megan, talk to me” I heard his voice break, and I then looked at his face, I felt tears coming to my eyes and softly started crying. 

“I- I can’t tell you”, he sat down beside me and lifted my chin “baby, I don’t want to see you like this, who did this” he asked again with anger lacing his voice. “K- Kiara” I mumbled, he stood up “for how long” he said while grabbing his stuff, “Monty where are you going?” I asked while quickly walking towards him blocking my door.

 “how, long” he said. “since dad’s back” I said, “Mont don’t tell anybody, you can’t” I said a little louder then intended breaking down, I’m dead if he tells someone, he can’t do that.

[lostinspidey]

hi there!!! i’m like super really sick and feel all yucky and reading your stuff while i’ve been cooped up has helped a bunch. could i request a stark!reader and peter blurb where tony keeps catching them making out and makes a joke like “are you having sex with my daughter parker?” and then it’s all quiet and your both like “... shit” and idk if you’ve seen spider-man w andrew garfield but tht scene where he pulls gwen to him with his webs??? yeah.... that (hs too?)

the compound is quiet.

in retrospect, it’s probably too quiet. typically your ears are able to pick up on some sort of noise - nat and clint playfully bickering down the hall or steve blending one of his protein shakes in the kitchen. 

but tonight, perched at a table in your father’s lab, there’s none of that. just the sound of you and peter flipping through the pages of your math textbook, broken up by bits of playful conversation and stealing from each other’s stash of snacks.

“pete,” you pipe up. “are we the only ones here?”

he’s sitting at the other end of the table, diligently copying a list of equations into his notebook. he looks up at you after finishing off a series of numbers and letters, one of your twizzlers dangling from the corner of his mouth. 

“i dunno,” he says. “are we?”

“it’s just… it’s quiet, don’t you think? maybe everyone went out for dinner?”

“could be.” he shrugs. “i mean, usually someone comes into the lab to bother us by now.”

you nod slowly. peter stands up, a smile making its way onto his lips as he walks towards you. the look in his eye makes you bashfully look away, cheeks already hot and flustered.

“so…” he eventually says. “we’re alone, huh?”

you set your pencil down, perch your chin against your hand. “in my father’s lab, peter? really?”

“what? i - no! i just want a kiss. please?”

you finally manage to peer up at him, at the endearing pull of his brow and the puppy dog look in his eye that he’s managed to master in an impressively short amount of time. not that you need much convincing.

you inch forward in your seat, tilting your head up towards him with a sly smile. “well, why didn’t you just say so?” you ask.

peter leans in slowly, closing the gap between you for a kiss that’s too short and too sweet. he seems a little surprised when you lull him back in, your hands eagerly holding onto the front of his shirt while his make their way to the sides of your face, pulling you in closer. deeper. it’s probably a bit strange, you think, that his kisses still feel this nice, even after all this time.

eventually he pulls away, and your eyes snap open at the realization that you and peter just kissed. in your father’s lab. the one place you’re sure he’d be the least happy with.

“thank god the security cameras are off,” you breathe.

peter chuckles at the look on your face, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “shoot, i was hoping we could rewatch that later.”

“peter!”

“i’m kidding!”

you bite down on your lip to keep from grinning too hard, then press another tiny kiss against the corner of his mouth. “if we’re gonna do this, maybe we should -”

“ahem.”

the two of you jump in unison. you fight the urge to groan, unwillingly meeting the gaze that is staring you down from the doorway. your father stands with his eyebrows raised, eyes flickering between you and peter, unable to determine who deserves the brunt of his anger.

peter’s hands slip from your face, his arms falling back down to his sides, but it’s too late. however much of that your father saw, it was enough for him to learn the truth.

you clear your throat, trying - and failing - to add a little nonchalance to your voice. “hey dad!”

“was there a bug in her eye, pete?”

of course he’d settle on your poor, innocent boyfriend. if your cheeks weren’t burning before, they sure as hell are now. 

peter wrinkles his nose, risking a glance down at you. “i - what?”

“was there a bug in my daughter’s eye?” he crosses his arms. “is that why you were standing so close to her?”

peter opens his mouth to respond, closes it, then opens it again, staring at your father with his face frozen in fear. 

you push your chair out and stand up, making sure to leave enough space between the two of you. “we thought you went out, dad.”

“we did. team dinner. brought you back from shawarma.” he brings up one of his hands, revealing a carryout bag. “although, i can see the two of you have already had plenty.”

“dad -”

“time to go, pete.” he waves peter over, casting you a look of disapproval. “we’ll talk about this tonight, alright y/n?”

you let out a sigh, nodding your head despite the fact that you don’t want to. despite the fact that it means you’ll probably never get to be alone with peter in the lab anymore, because it’s pretty clear that, no, there wasn’t a bug in your eye. if you try to come up with an excuse right now - with a flustered peter standing next to you - the truth will come out eventually.

peter’s quick to pack up his stuff, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. however, he stops in his tracks once he leaves the table, glancing over his shoulder at you. 

peter, no.

“mr. stark?” he says.

“are you sure you wanna explain yourself right now, spiderling?”

“i was the one who kissed y/n.”

you latch onto peter’s arm, eyes wide as saucers. “peter, what are you -”

“she tried to tell me we shouldn’t kiss in your lab. uh, multiple times, actually. but i didn’t listen.”

your father keeps his arms crossed, blinking once at peter. he takes this as a sign to continue, speaking with a newfound sense of confidence.

“but i wouldn’t have kissed her if i didn’t have feelings for her, mr. stark. genuine feelings. and i know we’re young and we may not know what genuine feelings are just yet, but i can assure you i haven’t felt this way about anybody besides aunt may.”

he stops when he notices you and your father exchange confused glances. “n-not like - ew. i mean that i care a lot about her. i feel like i wanna… protect her. does that make sense?”

your dad’s still staring at peter when he finishes speaking, nurturing a silence that gets more and more uncomfortable as the seconds tick by. then, right when you swear you can see his gaze start to soften, he turns around, motioning for you all to follow him.

“come on. eat your shawarma in the living room where i can keep my eye on you and then maybe i’ll let peter stay.”

beside you, peter lets out a breath of relief. “yes, sir.”

you catch your dad’s eye before he leaves, mouthing a small thank you. you realize he’ll still want to talk later - probably when pepper gets home from work - but to say you expected this would be a bit of an understatement. your dad’s always been a hopeless romantic, but never when it comes to you. go figure.

he disappears back down the hallway, but before you can follow him, you feel something strong pulling against the back of your shirt, whipping you around and planting you inches away from peter. 

“whoa!”

you practically fall into him, and he helps you catch your balance, smiling that same smile from just moments ago.

this time, you immediately smile back, curling your fingers around the web shooters on his wrists. “you gave that whole speech, and you still wanna try to kiss me in my dad’s lab?”

“who said i wanna kiss you?” he teases, lips already grazing yours. 

you roll your eyes. “thought your feelings for me were genuine.”

“shut up.”

peter laughs, and now you’re the one who leans in, planting your lips sweetly against his to show him that your feelings are genuine, too. his arms slide around your waist, pulling your torsos together, and you nearly forget all about what just happened until -

“thin ice, you two!” your dad’s voice booms from down the hall, causing the two of you to jump out of each other’s arms. “thin ice!”

“coming, mr. stark!” peter yells back. all you can do cover your mouth to keep from laughing, thinking that if thin ice isn’t the same thing as broken, and you and peter both feel a certain way about each other, maybe that’s enough for it all to be okay.

[trynnabemultifandom]

Avengers X Reader (No pairings)

Imagine: You are part of the Avengers but when someone sets you up for a crime you didn't commit, the team turn their backs on you.

Warning(s): Just a bit sad, sorry :'( Maybe some swearing

Your POV

"Steve please! You have to believe that it wasn't me!" I beg him, tears visible in my eyes. I can't believe this is happening right now. I'm sitting in an interrogation room, handcuffed to the table with a pissed off looking Steve standing with his arms crossed. "I'm finding it very hard to believe it wasn't you (Y/N), when all the evidence leads to you" He states sternly. "So much for trust in your teammates Rogers" i scoff and slouch in my chair. "Can I at least have some water?" Steve shakes his head no still glaring at me "Why the hell should we give you anything after you betrayed our trust" I sigh, getting irritated. I stand up and slam my hands on the table "For the last time, I. DIDN'T. FUCKING. DO. IT!" Steve was going to say something but stopped when the door opened "I'll take it from here Cap" I didn't have to look up to know who it was, the person who I thought was my best friend

"Natasha" I greeted coldly as she sat down "I can't believe I ever thought you were my friend. You just stabbed me and my team in the back" Her gaze just as cold as Steve's was. "Wow, so you think I did it too" I bit the inside of my cheek to stop my emotions from flowing free "There's no denying it when the evidence is right there" I scoff and shake my head a little. *knock knock* "Nat the cells ready for her!" Tony yells from the other side of the door. As I'm being escorted to my cell, the whole team is there. I stop dead in my tracks when I see Bucky "I didn't really expect the others to defend me, but you Buck, I thought I meant more to you than that" I turn to the rest of them "You've all got your heads so far up your asses that you can't even see I'm telling the truth-"

My speech gets interrupted by someone pulling on my arm "Hang on I'm not fucking finished" I snap "if I had of know you all hated me so much so that you'd jump on an opportunity to blame me for something I didn't do, then I would've made it a lot easier and left. Better yet, I never would have joined the team. I hope the next person to the team is better than me" I say, storming off to my cell, trying to stop my self from crying. Once I make it into my cell though, I let all my tears flow freely. I can't believe they never trusted me. All the time I spend having fun with them was all for nothing, none of them were ever my friends. All the talk of them being like my family was all bullcrap. The tears hit me harder at the realisation of it

Time skip

It's been about a week and a half since I've been put in the cell, and I honestly feel empty. None of the team has come down to check up on me, I mean I know they wouldn't but I had hope that they would. Not even Bucky came down. Just proves how little they all cared about me in the end. I was pulled from my thoughts by the door opening and a guard coming in to handcuff me "Get up, the team want to see you" he says coldly. As he leads me down to one of the many conference rooms, I start to feel nervous. The guard pushes the door open and immediately all eyes are on me. He pushed me onto the chair but doesn't open the handcuffs. He stands behind my chair as if I'm gonna try something when he leaves. I mean the only thing I'd do is shout because I'm too tired to do anything else

Steve, Hill and Fury are standing at the top of the room, emotionless. Fury is the first to speak "I've called this meeting today because of some new evidence that has surfaced about this whole case" He takes a breath. Oh dear god, what now?! "As we all know (Y/N) has been accused of feeding some private information about us to our enemies" Wow, talk about me like I'm not in the room. Rude! "Turns out (Y/N), you are innocent" I scoff "Yeah I fucking know, I have been trying to tell you all!" Fury glares at me "We still don't know how these people got the information, so from this moment on, we all have to be careful when we're talking to each other. They could have mics anywhere"

I roll my eyes, turning to the guard "Can you take these off me now" He hesitates at first but fully opens them. I mumble a thanks and walk out of the room. As of now, I'm done with the Avengers. I head to my room and pack my suitcase "Hey FRIDAY?" "Yes Ms. (Y/L/N)?" Well I'm glad Tony didn't turn FRIDAY against me "Can you contact Peter Parker for me and ask him can I come over?" "Yes Ms" I smile "Thanks FRIDAY" Peter is part of the Avengers, after all he is Spider-Man but sometimes he gets left out of the loop of things, but I always end up telling him about them because he deserves to know, like what happened to me last week

"He said he's at home and wants you to call him ASAP" Once I finish packing and send him a text saying I'll call him in 5 minutes "Goodbye FRIDAY" "Goodybe Ms. (Y/L/N), hope to see you soon" I pick my suitcase up off the bed and walk about to the elevator when I'm stopped by Bucky "Hey where're you going?" He asks. I turn to face him "I'm staying with Peter for a while, I need a while to get my head around everything that happened" He looks me straight in the eye "I just wanna say I'm so sorry for letting them blame you" I know I'm supposed to be mad at him but I give him a hug which he instantly returns. "Hey, it's ok. I'm not mad at you, just them. I'm sorry Buck, but I gotta go now. I might be back" I say pulling away from him "You've got one of my hoodies so you'd wanna be back" he jokes. I smile a little

"we'll see, I kinda like it on me" He smiles and watches me walk into the elevator. once the doors close I take a deep breath. Ok, all I have to do is make it out before anyone else catches me. When the elevator doors open, I rush out as fast as I can. Almost too fast because I nearly bump into someone. I mutter a quick "sorry" and start to walk away when they grab my wrist. I go to scream but when I look up I see its Steve. I pull my wrist from his grip "What do you want?" I ask harshly "I want to say I'm sorry (Y/N), for not believing you and for acting like a jerk to you" I cross my arms "Sorrys not gonna cut it, not yet Steve. I felt like total shit because of you and the others, y'know. But I'm not getting into it now, I'm gonna be late" "Where are you going?" "To stay with Peter" I say

"Peter Parker?" He asks. I nod "Yes, I already told Bucky so you can tell the others, I need to cool off and I can't do that here. I'm going to his house for a while, I might be back depending on how I feel after a while. And I swear to god Rogers, if you send Tony or anybody else on the team to his house to check up on either of us, I will kill you!" I say looking straight at him "Now if you'll excuse me, I've a friend to go visit" I say, pushing past him. I take out my phone and dial Peter's number, he answers almost instantly "Hey Peter, it's me. Is it possible if you and Aunt May can pick me up at the corner diner by the tower?" "Why what happened?" He asked, concern lacing his voice "I'll explain everything when you get here" "Ok, we'll be there as soon as we can" I smile "Thanks Pete" I say and hang up. I head towards the diner, ready to live a normal live for a while.

Ok, in not sure if I like this, I had an idea for it and idk if it's good. sometimes my writing doesn't turn out as well as I imagine it would. Feedback would be appreciated! :)

[thotantics]

Broken Hearts Club

⚤   pairing — reader + Oh Sehun (exo)

✎ word count — 6.7k

✦ genre — slight angst, smut, porn WITH a plot

✗ warnings  — graphic description of sex, alcohol use, strong language etc

[ A/N ] !!PART TWO COMING SOON!! SO I actually really worked hard on this. I made an outline, wrote a rough draft, edited this sucker and everything. I really hope you enjoy it. :)) (ps idk why I used Seokjin in this? he just felt like such a great crush to have idk sldkxduo) Requested — “Could he make you feel as good as I do?”  +  “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it” 

As you sit in silence on Sehun’s bedroom floor, you look over at him. Tall and handsome, his limbs stretched out on his bed, taking up so much room you briefly wondered how he ever managed to fit a girl in there.

The intrusive thought was followed by a brief line of questions in your mind; what kind of girl he liked, how many different girls he’d had in that bed that seemed way too small for his big frame, and lastly you briefly thought to yourself that Sehun was probably a good fuck.

It’s nothing you hadn’t considered before. He’s gorgeous and he carries himself with this sort of quiet confidence that was definitely intimidating at times. Each movement from him seemed graceful and deliberate, it was easy for anybody to see that Oh Sehun was an attractive man.

Plus, you knew him very well. Having been friends for a couple of years, you had shared so many conversations that lasted late into the night - you knew he was supportive, intelligent, passionate, and that he valued your friendship. So when your brain conjured up a random, fleeting thought about Sehun trying to fit a woman into his bed that seemed too small, and then you thought about sex, your next thought pattern led to you skirting around a confession to your long time friend.

“Sehunnie…” You said carefully, attempting to gain his attention away from his phone. He lifted his eyebrows to acknowledge that he was listening, eyes still on the screen.

“If I tell you something, do you promise not to judge me?” 

This caught his attention, and he looked over, sitting up slowly on the edge of the bed so he could focus on you. “Of course.” He replied simply.

Taking a deep breath, you let out the words you’d been holding on to for weeks, “I think I’m in love with Kim Seokjin.”

For a long while, Sehun was unreadable. You had hoped saying it out loud would somehow help you make sense of the way you felt, or figure out what to do about it, but looking at your friend’s unreadable expression you couldn’t help but regret ever having told him this in the first place. Besides, it wasn’t like your friendship together had any sort of basis in sharing these types of things with one another. He had never told you about any girlfriends or crushes or dates. It just wasn’t a topic either of you ever brought up and now that you realized it, you felt a little bit ridiculous for blurting it out.

You were about to apologize, to tell Sehun to forget you ever said anything when he finally spoke up.

“Why him?”

You hesitated, not really quite sure how to answer him. “Um. Well…he’s handsome but it’s…more than that. My heart kind of feels really warm and I get all tingly when I’m near him. That’s what love feels like, I guess. Right?”

Sehun laid back down in his bed and said in a bored tone, “I wouldn’t know,” before he grabbed his phone once more, “You hardly know the guy, though, I do know that.”

“I know him well enough.” You countered, “We’ve hung out.”

“Fine. So you’re in love. When’s the wedding?”

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.” You told him with a frown. “I was hoping you’d be supportive.”

“What do you want me to do? I don’t care if you have feelings for Kim Seokjin. Tell Kim Seokjin and let him do something about it. It’s none of my business.” And with that, he lifted his phone back in front of his face.

Clearly the subject made him uncomfortable. You attempted to apologize a bit later, but he dismissed your apology with a kiss to your forehead, a tender sign of affection that a man like Sehun reserved for special women in his life - you’d seen him kiss his mother and grandmother the exact same way, and it warmed your heart.

“Don’t worry about it.” He told you. “It’s just weird to think of you…never mind.”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You told him, “I just trust your opinion and I’ve just been feeling down because of this stupid crush.” There’s a moment of hesitance before you decide it couldn’t hurt to ask, “Do you think he could like me back?”

Sehun sighed heavily, “He’d be an idiot not to.”

A small group of mutual friends were having dinner and you overheard Chanyeol telling Minseok that Sehun had canceled at the last minute.

“What’s wrong? Is he ok?” You asked Chanyeol.

“I’m not sure.” Chanyeol admitted, “I think he’s having dating troubles or something. He’s just been quiet and kind of down lately.” He shrugged, “Whatever it is, you know how he gets when he’s down - he doesn’t open up easily, but he can handle it on his own.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, “I hope so. I had a horror movie marathon by myself last week...normally Sehun joins me but he didn’t respond to my texts.”

“Next time text me.” Chanyeol nudged you with his elbow. “You never invite me over anymore.”

“Sorry, Channie, I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.” You sigh.

“Are you coming to Namjoon’s party this weekend?” Chanyeol asked excitedly, “It’ll help take your mind off of things.”

“Actually, yeah.” You nodded, “I’d love to.”

Chanyeol texted you the info to Namjoon’s surprise birthday party later that night, and you found out the party was being thrown by Seokjin at his apartment. Work was stressful for the rest of the week, and in your spare time you started to think the party that weekend would be a good opportunity for you to confess your feelings to Seokjin.

You texted him to let him know you were coming and casually asked if he needed any help setting things up or maybe buying drinks or food. He replied back that he had everything under control, but he was looking forward to seeing you.

With your confidence boosted by his text, you decided to get yourself a really cute new outfit for Namjoon’s party. The night of, you were holed up in your bathroom for a solid two hours getting ready, but by the time you arrived at Jin’s apartment, you looked good, you felt good, and the atmosphere was perfect.

The place was packed with a lot of familiar faces as well as some people you didn’t know. You sought out Namjoon first, gifting him with the present you had gotten him and congratulating him on his birthday. Around you, people were dancing to music, voices were chatting, people were singing and laughing and drinking.

“Here,” Namjoon said, offering you a red plastic cup. “There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry. You look great tonight, by the way.”

“Thank you!” You smile, “Wow, Jin really went all out for your party, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I was so surprised. I thought I’d get maybe a cake and six guys loudly and badly singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, I definitely didn’t expect all of this.” Namjoon said with a laugh.

“You deserve all of this and more.” You said, “You’re one of the nicest people I know, Kim Namjoon.”

He blushed, smiling shyly, “Thanks, Y/N.”

“I don’t want to keep you from mingling with your guests,” You said, nodding over his shoulder at someone you didn’t recognize approaching to get his attention, “Happy Birthday again, Joonie.”

“Thanks, Y/N! Have a good night, come and find me if you get hungry, I think I’ll mainly stick to the kitchen.” He laughed, “Taehyung bought the biggest cake I’ve ever seen, it’s like five tiers!”

Laughing, you watch as Namjoon heads to the kitchen with the person who approached him across the room, bragging about the aforementioned cake with big, exaggerated hand gestures. Shaking your head fondly, you turn and briefly scan the faces around you before you head out of the room to look around for the host of the party, the broad-shouldered man who had been running through your mind so frequently for the last few months.

Your stomach is in knots and your head is a little dizzy already, a side effect of your nervous state but the alcohol definitely wasn’t doing you any favors. You finish your first drink and are nursing your second before you find Seokjin. He was out on the balcony with a few others, and you begin to approach him when he spots you and excitedly turns to the person next to him.

“Hey! Babe, I want you to meet my friend!” Seokjin motioned you over, and gestured to the woman on his right. “Y/N, this is my date, Jiwoo, Jiwoo, this is Y/N.”

Your heart sank. Your throat constricted. You reach forward to shake hands with the attractive young woman that Seokjin was proudly introducing you to. “H-hi,” You managed to choke out, “How are you?”

“Hi, I’m fine, and yourself?” She replied, smiling pleasantly at you.

“You two would be really good friends,” Jin told his date before you could stutter out a reply to her. “You remind me of each other.”

Jiwoo smiles sweetly at you, and she chuckles when she speaks to you next but you don’t hear her. Whatever she said made Seokjin laugh and he tucked one arm around her waist. “Ah, really, that’s why Y/N has always been such a good friend, her sense of humor reminds me so much of yours, babe.”

You were spiraling, the alcohol in your bloodstream was probably making this whole situation a lot worse than it actually was, but all you knew for sure was you needed to get out of there, to get away from the two of them, and now. Jiwoo spoke again, teasing Jin and asking if he had a crush on you, but before you could even attempt to try and listen to him respond, you interrupt.

“E-excuse me.” You stuttered, “I-I have to…to…” Unable to form any more coherent words, you rush back inside the apartment. The buzz of the party-goers around you was giving you an instant headache. Tears were welling up in your eyes and your throat was so tight it felt like your breath couldn’t escape your lungs. Your vision seemed to be tunneling, and you worried for a moment that you might actually pass out. Scrambling past the people in your way, you made your way up the stairs and into the farthest bathroom, away from the noise.

You shut the door and immediately slumped over the counter, sobbing so hard your entire frame was shaking. The sorrow made your ribs ache. Seokjin could have liked you, but you were too late. He compared you to his date, and was so enthusiastic for you to meet her. If you had stayed long enough to hear him respond to his date’s joke about having a crush on you, it would have ruined your self-esteem to hear his denial. Or even worse, if he had admitted he had a crush on you and that you really had been too late, you would never forgive yourself. The hurt was piercing you so deeply that you wondered if you could ever be friends with him after this. Your knees weren’t strong enough to hold you, and you sank onto the edge of the tub, burying your face in your hands, and you cried your heart out.

Sehun had only just walked in the front door when he spotted you weaving through the crowd, tears welling your eyes, the expression on your face easy for him to read, but even still he didn’t imagine he would open the bathroom door to find you perched on the edge of the tub, shaking as heavy sobs left your frame. The sound of the door alerted you, and you lifted your head, meeting his gaze. He saw the pain in your eyes, bloodshot and puffy, your makeup smeared all over your face, your hair in tangles.

“What happened?” He asked, shutting the door and dropping to his knees in front of you, “Did someone do this?” You weren’t answering his questions fast enough, sniffling, wiping your cheeks off on your sleeves, “Talk to me.” He encouraged you gently, fear beginning to well up inside of him.

“I was going to confess to Seokjin.” You told him regretfully, “He’s here with someone else. She was teasing him about having a crush on me and I-I just…I had to get out of there.”

For a few moments, Sehun just sat there in front of you, staring up at you while you attempted to wipe your face clean on your brand new clothes, angry you spent money on a confession you never even got to follow through on. After a while, you meet his eyes, feeling vulnerable.

“What?” You ask him quietly.

“You’re really up here hiding away in a bathroom, looking like a complete mess, because you didn’t get to confess a crush to some guy you barely know?” Sehun asks you, and when you stare at him sadly and don’t respond, he pulls away from you, standing and pacing to the other end of the bathroom, “Jesus Christ, you cannot be this stupid?”

Frowning, you tell him defensively, “You don’t have to be so mean about it.”

“Oh, princess, trust me, I’m not being mean. This is not mean. This is me asking you, sincerely, if you’re a fucking idiot or not.” Sehun pointed a finger at you, “I followed you in here because I thought something bad had happened. I thought someone hurt you! I didn’t know you’d be in here throwing a little cry-baby temper tantrum because the boy you like has a new girlfriend.”

“Stop being so mean!” You snap at him, “It hurt my feelings, and you’re making it even worse, ok? So just stop!”

“Aw, are your feelings hurt? Well I’m sorry. But guess what? You hurt me the same way that Kim Seokjin hurt you, but I didn’t run off to the bathroom to hide and cry like a little brat. I still showed up tonight, didn’t I? I was hoping to put it past us. I’m being mature and trying to move on. I was hoping you could see that I’ve gotten over it, that I’m over you, that I-”

“Wait, woah, stop.” You cut him off, holding up your hands, “What the hell are you talking about? You’re over what?”

Sehun scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, ok.”

“Seriously.” You insist, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, how did I hurt you? It wasn’t on purpose, Sehunnie, you should know that…we’ve been such good friends for so long, I would never intentionally hurt you-”

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” Sehun snaps, this time cutting you off before you could finish. You stare at him with big eyes, sadness still evident in them, and as he looks back at you, he realizes one big mistake that he’d made. You were looking up at him with sadness and tenderness in your watery eyes, realizing only at that moment how you felt was how Sehun had been feeling since you admitted your feelings for Seokjin to him. Everything suddenly made sense - his attitude and his absence since that night, the way he was upset with you now. And you feel like a complete idiot for not having figured all of this out sooner.

“I thought…” You begin, your voice small and cracking a bit, so you clear your throat. “I thought we were best friends.”

“I never wanted to be your friend.” Sehun tells you, “I always wanted to be with you.”

Feeling guilty for assuming the worst, for being bitter and angry thinking that you knew all along of his feelings for you and simply didn’t care about hurting him, Sehun moves to sit on the edge of the tub with you, and he gently takes your hand.

“We are best friends.” He assures you quietly. “I love the time we’ve spent together. I’ve been missing you a lot lately, even though hearing you were in love with someone else was really…hard for me to deal with.”

“I’m sorry for hurting you.” You tell him, fresh tears falling down your face now but these ones weren’t for Kim Seokjin, these ones were for Sehun, and he feels the full weight of each droplet fall heavy on his shoulders.

“I really didn’t know.” You insist between sniffles, “I mean, you never really, like, flirt with me or anything. You’ve never told me how you feel. I’m so sorry, Sehunnie, I feel awful.”

He turns and lifts your shoulders, preventing you from slumping down and crying harder, and he cups your cheeks in both hands, swiping under your eyes tenderly with his thumbs, “Don’t cry.” He tells you, “You’ve done enough of that.”

“But I feel so bad.” You tell him, sniffling and trying hard to fight back your tears as his hands move to tuck your hair behind your ears. “I really am stupid, aren’t I?”

“No, no, no, don’t say that. I shouldn’t have said that...I was just angry. I’m sorry.” He sighs heavily before he continues with a defeated tone, “I didn’t flirt with you. Not because I wasn’t into you, because I was...so, so much. I was just trying to show you that I was interested in more than just hooking up or whatever. Do you think I treated all of my friends the way I do you?”

You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know, I never really thought about it. I just…enjoyed your company. I never second guessed your actions or your words. I always took everything at face value and…god, Sehun, you should have told me.”

He laughs lightly, easing the tension some, which you’re grateful for. “I wouldn’t stay up all night long talking to Junmyeon on the phone.” He points out, “I don’t let Jongin lay in my lap, I don’t try to braid Chanyeol’s hair.” You laugh at the mental picture all of that conjures, and Sehun smiles sweetly at you. “Ah, you really are a stupid girl, aren’t you?”

You shove his chest lightly, “Give me a break.”

”I have!” Sehun insists , “So many times!” He tosses his hands up exasperatedly, “Other than out right yelling directly in your face that I’m in love with you, I tried everything I could think of to make you feel special to me, because you are.”

At this, you stare at him in awe, nearly on the verge of tears again. Sehun looked vulnerable for the first time since you met him - maybe he hadn’t meant to let that word slip out, but you could tell that he meant it, and even though it made your heart soar, it was breaking, too.

“You love me?” You ask him quietly, unable to form any other coherent words, and he looks down, glancing away from your face nervously.

For a while, he doesn’t answer you, and you were feeling the guilt piling up. It was clear that you had hurt Sehun deeply, obviously much more than this silly, immature encounter with Seokjin had hurt you. You were about to start apologizing all over again when he spoke, under his breath and without looking up at you.

“Do you remember that day I had off last year, when you needed a ride back from the airport? I was exhausted. I had been working hard the whole time you were away, it was my only day off, and I picked you up from the airport and took you to dinner?”

You nod your head, remembering that day very clearly. Sehun had been so tired, physically and mentally, but you hadn’t been back home to Seoul in over a month and the two of you had been so excited to see one another, despite your late arrival, you went out for dinner and stayed up almost the whole night.

“I must have tried to kiss you a hundred times that night.” He recalls with a soft smile, his eyes lifting to meet your own, to gauge your reaction. The regret was clear in your eyes, the subtle, natural pout to your lips was tempting to kiss away, but Sehun held back. Instead, he gently reaches out and strokes your cheek, his thumb lightly trailing down to brush your lips instead, unable to resist the plushness.

“You should have kissed me.” You breathe, wishing more than anything you could somehow turn back time and change things.

“I guess so.” He sighs, his hand dropping from your face and back to his side. “I’m not the kind of man that easily opens up about the way that I feel.” He says, “You know that already.”

“I know.” You murmur sadly.

“What I tried to do, all along, was show you with my actions how I felt. Feel.” He says carefully, “How I…have felt and still feel…about you.”

You gulp, feeling stupid and small that this whole thing was playing out like this. It was your fault, you could see that now. You knew Sehun well enough, after all the time you spent together, that if you had really been paying attention, you would have noticed. Looking back on it now, it’s clear to you how oblivious you had been and how negligent you were of his feelings and the way he treated you. 

“I can’t take it back,” You tell him regretfully. “I feel like the worst person in the world because I couldn’t see it, but I can’t change that. I’m sorry.”

For another long moment, you’re both silent, shyly and almost mournfully regarding one another. Neither of you knew what was coming next, but you were certain that Sehun could see your heart pounding in your veins, you were so nervous. Would your friendship be ruined by this? Could you return to normal somehow, or were you expected to find a new normal to adjust to? If so, what did that entail?

All these thoughts were swimming in your head, fueling your anxiety, making you want to cry all over again, but there was only one thought in Sehun’s head in that moment. He was staring directly at your lips, the way they turned down and looked especially full and pouty. He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you, but he was holding back, afraid he would drive you away.

“You’re the best person I know, Y/N,” Sehun tells you gently, cupping your cheek softly, his heart bursting with warmth when you nuzzle into his touch slightly. “Maybe in the beginning, I was too afraid to make any real moves, I’ll admit it. After some time, I subconsciously was trying not to ruin our friendship. We both made the same mistake. You were too late to confess to Seokjin and I was too late to confess to you.”

“It’s not too late.” You tell him, your chest aching like your ribs were going to open up and offer him your beating heart. “You told me, I know now. It’s not too late.”

He starts to argue with you, but you cut him off, shaking your head, “It took us this long because maybe you were too afraid in the beginning and maybe I was too clueless this whole time, but it’s not too late if I know now. It can’t be...please don’t let it be too late, Sehun, I-I don’t think I could bear it.”

There’s a fire igniting in his belly, and Sehun sees the way you’re looking at his lips, and he doesn’t make the same mistake he made countless times in the span of your friendship - this time, he cups your cheek, his thumb brushes your bottom lip, drawing it down and pressing gently into the softness, and then he leans forward and presses his lips to yours. His kiss is gentle and hesitant, coupled with your trembling hands reaching for his shirt, clinging to the bottom hem desperately. Just the slightest pressure from his lips, no movement, no tongue, but he takes a breath in and it feels like he’s drawing it directly out of your lungs, and you shift forward just a little closer, trying to mold against him.

You part your lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss, but instead Sehun pulls away. He looks down at you with all the love and adoration in the universe shining out from his eyes before he moves back in, his eyes falling shut as he meets your mouth again. This time, he moves. Soft as silk and slow as he can stand. He smooths his lips repeatedly over yours before he finally deepens the kiss, pressing his tongue past your lips.

With his hands gently cradling your face, he tilts your head to the side a little, and you moan into his mouth as you taste the beer from your tongue and the passion on his lips. Your hands, now fisted and twisting the bottom of his shirt, were just about to trail down and feel the smooth skin of his stomach when Sehun pulls away from you again.

He chuckles because you groan in protest, but he still holds onto your shoulders to keep you steady and hold you an arms length away from him. He’s struggling already to catch his breath, but he’s looking at you intently, trying hard to focus.

“You’re drunk.” He states regretfully. “This isn’t the way I wanna do this, Y/N.”

“Sehunnie, I’ve barely had two drinks, and anyway, we’ve already wasted so much time.” You remind him, tugging lightly on his shirt and he gives in easily, letting you press up against his chest again, “Kiss me.”

He indulges you for a moment, pressing his lips firmly to yours in a chaste kiss before he looks down at you, his brow furrowed in concern. “I’m not trying to hook up with you tonight, Y/N. I don’t want that.” For a moment, your heart sinks, and as you stare up at him, nodding softly, you realize he wasn’t finished. His hand comes back to your cheek, cradling your face. “I want to be with you.” He said.

Your face is burning, and you couldn’t have hidden your 1,000-watt smile if you had wanted to, so instead you beam up at Sehun, someone you trusted, admired and you were certain now someone you had loved for a very long time. It was the sort of love that always existed between you, comfortable, never leaving you with questions or doubts. Your friendship had come naturally and, as you stand up on your tiptoes to take the lead and capture his lips, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest as you hoped that the next step of your relationship was starting right now.

Sehun doesn’t pull away from you this time. He lets you kiss him however you want, relishing in the feel of your silken lips and the insistence of your tongue exploring his mouth. You need to map him out, to memorize every detail of his mouth, now. This was someone you had known so intimately for so long, and yet these minute things, like the way his teeth feel bumping into yours or the very slight scruff on his chin rubbing into yours were new, and it filled you with excitement.

He hums into the kiss, the vibration against your lips makes you smile and your eyes flutter open briefly to see he’s looking back at you, and you burst into giggles. 

“What?” He laughs, “Is this weird?”

“No! Not at all.” You insist, “It feels…good. It feels really good..”

The smile he gives you is brighter than the sun and warms you up from the inside out. He comes back to kiss you again and you smooth your hands up his chest, laying them flat, feeling his heart pounding under your right palm. It soothes you to know that his heart is racing just as fast as yours.

The distant, faded sounds of the party downstairs are drowned out, muffled by the sound of his heavy breathing as the kiss you share now grows into something more. His hands move from your waist to your back, pressing you more tightly against him than before, and he slips one hand under the hem of your shirt, feeling the warm skin of your lower back. It doesn’t take long before soft sounds were leaving your lips, swallowed up by Sehun’s hungry mouth. He wants to hear you whimper into him more and more, and he keeps pushing further, eventually moving one hand around and gingerly palming your breast through your shirt.

You gasp, arching your back and thrusting your breast into his hand, and in a desperate attempt to feel his skin, you began to claw at his shirt, pulling it upwards and panting against his mouth.

“Take this off.” You breathe raggedly against his lips.

Sehun untangles from you long enough to discard his shirt on the bathroom floor, desperate to press against you with less clothing on, walking you backward until he could lift you and sit you on the counter by the sink. Your legs wrap around his waist and you tug his hair to keep his mouth on yours, even as his hands push up your shirt and he holds you by the ribs, moaning against your tongue as you pulled at his hair lightly.

“Wanna touch you.” Sehun mumbles into the kiss, breaking away from your mouth to catch his breath and look down at you seriously for a second, “I promise I can make you feel good.”

“I know.” You pant, lifting your shirt over your head and tossing it to the side, “I want you to touch me, Sehunnie.”

You thought with nothing but your bra standing in his way, that Sehun would want to go for your tits but instead, he drops to his knees in front of you, so he was staring at the ridiculously skimpy skirt you had bought just for this evening. You felt exposed and just a little bit ridiculous as his hands bunch the material up around your waist, exposing the front of your panties. Blushing hard, you watch as Sehun licks his lips and his eyes flicker back up to meet yours. He was asking for permission with his eyes, gentle and caring. You nod your head, and he looks back down, his hands reaching for your thighs first, rubbing smoothly up and down your soft skin.

“You got all dressed up tonight.” He points out, causing you to blush deeper and hide your face in shame.

“Yeah, I did.” You say, gasping because Sehun chose that moment to run his fingers very delicately down the front of your panties, tracing your slit through the material.

“Did you wear these for him?” He asks you, but his voice is calm and curious. You falter, unsure what he wants you to say. When he looks back up at you, he smirks, “Yeah, of course, you did. You wouldn’t wear sexy panties and a matching bra like this unless you wanted somebody to see it.”

“That’s not true.” You murmur a half-developed argument, “Maybe I wanted to wear it for myself.”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. You’re a bad liar.”

You start to say something back, but all thought is wiped from your brain when Sehun pulls the material of your panties to the side and suddenly his fingers are grazing your bare flesh. You twitch, sensitive, and he’s looking at you so carefully that you almost want to hide, it feels so intimate.

“But he didn’t make you wet like this,” Sehun says, parting your lower lips and taking in the sight of your glistening sex. “Who made you this wet?”

“Y…you did.” You stutter, face burning white-hot with embarrassment.

“That’s right.” Sehun smiles up at you, tugging your panties even more firmly to the side, “I did.” and with that, he leans down plant a kiss at the cleft of your pussy, his eyes locked on yours.

You gasp, thighs jerking, and Sehun grips them firmly to keep them spread, and he kisses you again, and again until you aren’t so sensitive anymore. You watch him with your mouth agape, nearly drooling at the sight of his lips on you like this. Then he licks. Gently over your outer labia at first, but then he licks deeper, moaning against you when he tastes the slickness of your arousal pooling against his tongue.

Sehun’s mouth is hot and greedy, licking deep against your hole and flicking insistently against your clit, sucking and swallowing and groaning against you all the while. Your head is spinning and you can’t look away from him. His mouth was intoxicating against yours but to have him between your thighs like this was something far more addictive and something all together cosmic.

You’re already about to cum when he inserts the first finger into you. You buck your hips into his face and feel him smirk, and his eyes focus on yours again and you know that he knows. And then he stops. 

You’re about to protest weakly, to accuse him of being a tease when he stands up and his hands move to the button and zipper of his jeans. It shuts you up in a hurry and you sit there, legs spread, cunt dripping, and watch with your mouth practically watering as he pulls out his thick, heavy cock. Sehun strokes himself a couple of times as he looks you over.

“God, Y/N, you’re so beautiful. Do you want me to fuck you?”

Nodding eagerly, you swallow past a lump in your throat, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him. “Yes, Sehunnie, please.”

“Scoot a little closer to the edge.” He tells you, gripping your thighs and tugging you slightly to aid in your movements. He steps between your thighs and then reaches into his pocket for a condom before he shoves his jeans off the rest of the way so they don’t inhibit his movement. You trace his abs lightly with curious fingers as he rolls the condom down the length of his erection, and he tells you in a low whisper, “I’ve wanted this for so long, Y/N.”

You feel compelled to tell him that you’re sorry yet again, but he kisses the words from your lips and without wasting any more time, pushes himself inside of you. Sehun groans with you when he’s inside, and he thrusts in deeper, bottoming out while you gasp and cling onto him. Your legs wrap around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, and Sehun kisses you slowly and keeps himself still, letting you adjust. You feel impossibly tight, clenching around his cock and trembling. When he does start moving, he pulls back from your mouth and looks down between you at where you’re joined. He’s already coated in your arousal, sticky and wet with each plunge back inside your depths, and even though he hasn’t had a single drink tonight, he feels drunk on the sight alone.

“Fuck.” He hisses, squeezing tightly your waist and drawing you further off of the counter. He’s practically holding your weight on his own now, only using the counter to balance himself, and he’s slamming into you deeply. “Fuck!”

Shaking and moaning uncontrollably, you’re on the edge of orgasm again and you begin to claw at Sehun’s back and shoulders, trying to keep him pressed tightly to you while your hips roll to gain friction on your clit. It’s only been a couple of minutes and Sehun can feel when you start to cum around him, your inner walls rhythmically squeezing and pulsing around his cock, and he feels victorious.

“Could he make you feel as good as I do?”  He asks as you cry out at the peak of your pleasure. “Could he fuck you so good you cum for him in two minutes flat?” Sehun asks, his thumb finding your clit despite your orgasm beginning to slow, driving it right back up to another peak, “Look at you.” He says, voice thick with adoration and amazement, “You’re soaking my cock, you’re cumming all over me. Fuck, you’re so good.”

“Oh, my god, don’t stop..” You cry out, tears spilling down your face as one orgasm leads directly into another and your whole body is trembling under Sehun’s.

“I’m not gonna stop.” He grunts, fucking you through your orgasm and continuing on, pounding you rough and fast, “I want to be with you, Y/N,” He groans, “I want to fuck you like this all the time. Always.”

“Always.” You echo back automatically, head thrown back, eyes watering and vision blurry. “I love you, Sehunnie. Oh, god…I love you so much.”

Sehun meant to draw it out a little bit longer, he meant to see if he could make you cum a third time, but as the words left your lips in the throes of passion, his hips stuttered against you and his cock throbbed and released, spilling himself inside the condom. Your tryst had lasted all of ten minutes, and he maybe would have been disappointed if he had been with anybody else, but he was with you, and when he stilled and looked down at you, you were grinning up at him, satisfied, your makeup smeared and your hair a mess, and Sehun was happier than he could remember being in his life.

He’s apologetic as he helps you get off the bathroom counter. Shy as he hands you a wad of toilet paper and turns away to give you privacy to clean up while he removes the condom. “I’m sorry if I was too rough.”

“You weren’t too rough.” You assure him, “It felt amazing. I loved every second of it.”

He winces a little at your choice of words, “Shit. I’m sorry it was so quick…next time I’ll be more thorough and I’ll take my time. I mean, if you want there to be a next time. We don’t have to.”

You laugh, coming up behind him as he stuffs himself back in his jeans and closes the zipper. You hug him from the back, pressing a kiss between his shoulderblades, “It was perfect, Sehunnie. And of course, I want there to be a next time. I meant it when I said I love you, you know?”

“You don’t love me.” He chuckles, turning to face you. “All this time I’ve been in love with you, you never noticed.”

“I didn’t notice because I thought what we had was special and different than any other friendship. Regardless, of course, I love you. I love you for being supportive of me, for being there for me when I needed you, I love you for coming after me tonight to check on me, for caring about me, for being concerned for me, even though I hurt you. I love you for coming over to watch scary movies and eat junk food when we’re bored.” You laugh, and he smiles back at you. “I just didn’t realize what kind of love this was as I was feeling it. Not until now.”

“What kind is it?” He asks you curiously.

“Not the kind where you have a stupid crush and it makes your heart flutter and you end up crying in the bathroom at some party. My love for you is comfortable and easy, and I’ve never doubted it or second-guessed it because I always felt it so strongly. I’m sorry that I didn’t question it, though... I should have analyzed our feelings sooner. I should have paid closer attention. But I’m not sorry at the same time, because our bond is very strong and for that, I’m thankful. Thank you for sticking around, Sehun.”

His chest is swelling with pride and affection as he looks down at you. There’s a lot more he wants to say and a lot more he wants to ask, but for now, he feels at peace. Sehun presses a kiss to your forehead and slips his arm around your shoulders, and he leads you out of the bathroom.

As you walk together down the short hallway to the stairs, he mutters under his breath against your ear, “Let’s literally never tell Seokjin that we hooked up in his guest bathroom.”

[pb1138]

Friends of Red Jack Ch. 1

NAME IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE!!! This is a Detroit Become Human story, Markus x OC. 

A/N: Instead of this being over the course of a few days, I’m spreading it out over months. It makes more sense that that’s how long it would take, anyway, I feel. I also really, really don’t like North, and I’m not going to apologize. 

XXXXX

This can’t be happening. Simon’s been shot, there’s no way he can make the jump. Fuck. This was supposed to be an easy run, in and out no problems. Of course it couldn’t have been that simple. If only that station worker hadn’t run for it… If only I’d—NO. Markus shook it off. He would not allow himself to think like that, no matter how vehemently North tended to whisper in his ear.

Markus stared down at his friend, at the blue blood seeping onto the ground. They were going to have to leave him, that much was clear. North was insisting that he can’t be left alive, that it would give away their location, and part of Markus knew she was right. If Simon were to be found, that would be it, the end of it, of them. But this was Simon. His friend. Their ally. A living being. Markus had sworn when all this began that he’d never kill a living being.

“I can hide him.” Their heads snapped up at the voice, guns quick to take aim. It was a woman, a human, and Markus vaguely recognized her from the broadcast room. She raised her hands calmly in a non-threatening display. “You don’t have that much time. Your friend, he won’t make your escape. I can hide him.”

“And why should we trust you?” North waved her gun as she talked, then leaned in to whisper at Markus, “She’s a human, Markus, we can’t trust her.”

The woman cleared her throat. “I heard what you said, on your broadcast. A-And I’ve seen the news, too. All these deviants. It’s like androids everywhere are waking up, gaining sentience, and they…you deserve to be free. I don’t want to sit by and do nothing. I want to help.”

Josh was on Markus’s other side. “If she’s telling the truth, she can protect Simon.”

“Or she can hand him over to the cops!”

The banging on the door below them grew more insistent, and Markus knew they didn’t have much more time.

The woman pulled her open jacket away from her body and spun slowly. “I’m unarmed. Give your friend a gun. He’ll have the upper hand, be safe.” She glanced at the door behind her. “You’re running out of time.”

“Markus, she’s right. I’ll go with her, but you guys have got to get going.”

Markus looked down at Simon and ground his teeth in thought. “North, get the parachutes.” As she began to protest, he spun on her and glowered. “We don’t have time, just do it!” Markus turned back to Simon, ignoring North’s bewildered and hurt face, and gave him his gun. They shared a moment, touching foreheads in a final goodbye before Markus stood and faced the woman. “Please, keep him safe.”

The woman smiled at him, kind and open, and Markus just…knew she was being earnest. “I will. Now go.”

Josh was putting the parachute onto Markus, drawing his attention from the woman who had knelt down to help Simon off the ground. As he, Josh, and North ran for the edge of the building, he cast one final look back towards where his friend had been and felt a wave of relief that the swarming security had not found him. I hope that was the right decision.

Xxx

The sun shone low over the horizon as Markus sat, chilly November wind whipping about his face. It had been about two weeks since their broadcast, and it seemed the public had responded rather…well to it. This, coupled with the fact that their hits on the Cyberlife stores left no damage (beyond the stores, of course,) and no humans injured has painted Markus and his “deviant army,” so-called by more conservative news sources, in a rather good light. Josh surely approved and had in fact thanked him in private for choosing to take such a peaceful approach to it. North, on the other hand, was pissed. Markus was struggling to understand her, frankly. Their mission is to free androids and give them rights, yet it often felt like North wanted nothing more than to start an all-out war. Her bloodthirst was insatiable and quickly wearing thin on Markus. He couldn’t take more than a few breaths before she was on again about humans hating them. She’s right. Humans do tend to look unfavorably upon androids, but he knew she was taking it to the extreme. Carl was more than enough to give him a diplomatic view on the situation. Even before Markus had turned deviant, Carl had treated him with nothing but respect and kindness, as though Markus were his own true son. Truthfully, Markus had even considered Carl to be a father, now that he had the emotional capacity to look back on their interactions and read deeper into them. A pang of grief flashed through Markus as he remembered that night, recalled Carl’s groans of pain, saw once more the light fading from his eyes. I should’ve fought back… No. He shook himself. Carl would not want him to grieve, to regret his inaction. “The past should stay in the past, Markus. We must learn from it and grow, but we must not let ourselves dwell on things that cannot be changed.”

He looked down at his feet dangling so high from the ground and let his mind wander. He was surprised to find it had wandered to that woman, the human who had offered to help Simon. Part of him was worried she’d been lying, that he’d given Simon over to danger, but there was something about her he couldn’t help but trust.

North had been downright vibrating with anger after that. Once they landed and had gotten to safety, she’d shoved Markus with a scowl. “How could you have done that?” she’d screamed. “You just gave him to her! A human! Don’t you know what humans do to us?”

Markus scowled as he replayed the interaction in his head. The woman had given them no reason to doubt her, no indication that she meant any of them any harm. Her only crime was being human. If Markus were truly honest with himself, he might even admit that part of him was…curious about her.

“I was wondering where you were.”

Markus had to resist the urge to sigh. One might’ve thought that sitting alone on a rooftop away from your base of operations without having told anyone where you were going might have conveyed the idea that one might want to be alone. But here she was, again. “I just wanted to be alone.”

“I like it here. I come here often.” He stood and turned to look at her, irritation sparking in the back of his mind. “It’s like being alone with the world…” Is that what they were doing then? Cliché, cheesy attempts at romance? Never mind Markus had never given even the slightest hint he was interested in her. “We freed hundreds of our people, and they’re still coming from all over the city. Those who dream of freedom come to Jericho. Something’s changing.”

The desire to bite back a snarky remark concerning the fact that she was stating the obvious filled him, but instead Markus sat in the armchair and looked down at his folded hands. His mind drifted to the woman, of her hands being raised. He hoped she was alright. That Simon was alright.

“You seem preoccupied.”

He glanced up at North, almost like he’d forgotten she was there. With a shake of his head, he looked back down at his hands. “Preoccupied? No. No, no, I’m fine.”

It was a weak lie, and if North noticed or cared, she didn’t let on. She began to pace leisurely. “All the media are talking about what we did at the Cyberlife stores. The humans are terrified. They’re afraid of a civil war. Many of our people will burn in response to what happened.” She turned to look at him. “The humans hate us.” Here we go. “They’ll never give us our freedom.”

Markus was really getting sick of hearing this shit. “No, not all humans are the same. Some of them understand that they can’t stop us from becoming free forever.” The woman from Stratford Tower should have been proof enough, let alone the seemingly welcoming public response to their movement.

Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t done. She turned to take a few steps in the other direction. “You haven’t said much about yourself since you’ve been with us. What was your life like before Jericho?”

Carl’s face flashed through his memory once again, and he thought back to the painting Carl had asked him to do, to imagine. He’d thought of humans, then of comfort, and the final image had ended up being of Carl himself.

Markus stood and faced the city, fighting back a wave of tears and to keep his voice level. “Who I was is not important. What matters now is who I wanna be.”

It would’ve been polite for him to express interest in her background, in who she was, but frankly he was beyond done with this conversation. He turned to leave and managed to get a few steps before she asked, a tone of offense in her voice, “Where are you going?”

Exasperation filled his veins, but he didn’t turn back to look at her again. Instead, he just huffed out a simple, “To talk to the humans,” and left her standing there.

If it had been any other day, he might’ve felt bad. But as it was, he really had not wanted to talk to anybody, least of all North. Her negativity was just something he was not prepared to deal with today.

The walk back to the ship wasn’t too long. Markus welcomed the time to think, even more that North seemed to realize he actually did want to be alone. He was nearly back to the hold and deep in thought when someone stepped in front of him.

Simon. It was Simon.

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment before Markus took a step forward. They both looked as if they wanted to say something, but neither of them had the words so Markus closed the distance between them and took Simon into a firm hug. It lasted about a full minute before Simon leaned away and cleared his throat. He held his hand to the side as if gesturing to somebody, and Markus turned to look.

Her.

The human from before was standing in the adjoining hallway, looking quite nervous. She let out a breath and haltingly lifted her hand. “H-Hi.”

Oh, North is gonna have a field day.

Simon gestured her over and looked at Markus. “Markus, this is Jack.”

Markus nodded to her but eyed her warily. “Pleasure. Simon, can I talk to you for a minute?”

The woman—Jack’s, face fell and her color paled. “P-Please, don’t be mad at Simon. He needed help getting here, and I… Well.” She pointed back at the hall, and Markus’s jaw fell open. Half a dozen androids were standing there, including a child model who was hiding behind an AJ700 model. They were in various states of disrepair, one even missing an entire leg, but they all seemed agitated, on edge. “I had a few people you needed to meet.”

Oh yeah. North was gonna lose her mind.

Xxx

“I can’t believe you would bring her here! A human!”

“She saved my life! There are already humans who know where we are who we trust! What about Rose?”

“Rose is different!”

“Why?”

“Because we can trust her!”

“Well we can trust Jack, too!”

Markus and Josh shared an exasperated look. North and Simon had been going at it for what felt like eons. Markus had been right. North had lost her shit.

“Guys.” Neither of them seemed to notice him, as if he and Josh didn’t even exist. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Guys!” They paused to look at him, and he set his hands on his hips. “What’s done is done. She’s here. The question is, what do we do with her now?”

Simon frowned. “She can be useful, Markus.”

“She can’t be trusted! She’s a human!” North’s bitching was getting on his nerves.

“Useful how, Simon?”

“She’s got an in with the news station, for one. She has her own network of connections, people trying to help deviants escape, suppliers. And being seen with a human on our side could be useful in convincing more of them.”

Markus nodded, a hand on his chin in thought.

“Markus, you can’t honestly be considering this?” North’s eyes scanned his face, a bewildered expression upon hers.

He glowered at her. “I am, yes.” He looked across to Josh, who had been silent thus far. “What do you think?”

Josh regarded the three of them for a moment. “I think Simon is right.”

North threw her hands in the air in agitation and turned her back on them to glare out the window. Markus nodded thoughtfully. “You trust this woman, Simon?”

Simon nodded. “I wouldn’t have brought her here if I thought she were a danger, Markus.”

“Then I agree. She can prove useful to us. Josh, please tell her to come in.”  

Simon smiled gratefully at Markus and clapped him on the back. They could feel North’s rage seething, but both of them ignored it. “Thank you, Markus.”

Josh returned after a moment and held the door open for the woman. She looked between all of their faces before she cleared her throat and raised her hand in a shy greeting again.

North turned around and leaned against a control panel, every bit of her posture designed to let the woman know North didn’t trust her. Markus rolled her eyes and looked at the woman. “So, Jack was it?” She nodded in confirmation. “Simon tells us you’ve got connections, suppliers.”

She nodded, then as if she remembered something, she took off the backpack she was wearing. North sprung into action and practically leapt across the room to grab the woman’s wrist. Jack held her hands open in defense and cleared her throat. “I-It’s supplies. For you guys.”

“North, back off.” Simon seemed almost more exasperated than Markus felt.

North looked at the two of them before scowling and releasing Jack’s arm. Jack side-eyed her before holding the bag to Josh. He took it and unzipped it, then looked at her with a piqued eyebrow. “How’d you get all this?” Josh passed the bag to Markus who took a cursory peek inside. There were at least a dozen bags of blue blood and some smaller various parts like audio processors, and even a thirium pump regulator.

“I have friends. This one was a friend who works at the store on 39th. She hooks me up a lot. With information, too. Y’know, androids who’ve been…abused, brought back for repairs. That kind of thing.” She seemed uncomfortable under their scrutiny, and rightfully so. “I have some friends who keep watch of some of the worse cases, who pass along my information to any of them they feel might or have turned deviant. J-Just in case they don’t hear about Jericho, of course. I mean, you guys do amazing work, but a lot of deviants don’t get your guys’s key…legend…thing, and they need somewhere else to go.”

Markus was beginning to feel very good about this relationship. “What other ‘friends’ do you have?”

A devious glint sparked in her eye and she smirked. “All kinds.”

Despite North’s predatory gaze, Markus stepped forward and held his hand out to the woman. She glanced at Simon then smiled and met Markus’s grip. “Jack, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

The smile she gave him was downright dazzling. “I’m delighted you think so, Markus.”

[raywritesthings]

Could you maybe write something about what happens when the doctor and donna come back to the tardis from the library?

Hoooookay, anon. I wrote...something. Idk if it’s at all what you were picturing, but here we go!

Sleep Mode

AO3 link

He knew it still was not alright, possibly wouldn’t be for a very long time, because of how quiet she was.

Not that Donna was loud all the time, of course. But even when her voice turned soft there was always an underlying strength, a presence. This Donna, he could tell her mind was far away, reaching back for the Library datacore and Lee. Something twisted painfully in his gut, and he had no scientific explanation for it at all.

“I think I might turn in,” she said, just above a whisper, and he looked away from the door he’d just snapped closed. “Bit muddled on how long I’ve been awake.”

“Of course,” the Doctor immediately replied. “We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

She offered just the slightest attempt at a smile before turning away and heading down the corridor to her room. The Doctor watched her go, then went to the controls to place them in the Vortex. Time and space could wait as long as Donna needed it to.

—-

She came and found him after a much shorter interval than was usual whenever she decided to sleep. He didn’t comment, and merely took them somewhere new.

It worked a little. She had all sorts of questions like always, and he thought she even forgot once or twice what had happened only yesterday. And yet she was still too quiet. Withdrawn.

By the second day she was yawning between bouts of running, and he knew it wasn’t because she was bored. Donna could gripe about the weather or the running better than anyone, but she never found their travels boring.

She was tired, and the longer it lasted the more he feared it would grow to mean she was tired of this. That he’d failed to shield her from the worst and she’d soon leave him like everyone eventually did.

Donna retreated to her room whenever they got back to the TARDIS. He thought to ask if she felt up to a movie or a game of some kind, something to draw her out, but his courage always failed him and he watched her walk away instead.

This particular night, after a few fruitless attempts at TARDIS maintenance that he was too distracted worrying to complete, the Doctor decided it was past time for him to sleep himself. Not that he was entirely eager to, and so he took a more roundabout route to his room.

He hadn’t realized his wandering had taken him past her room until he heard a door open behind him. “Spaceman?”

The Doctor spun about on his heels. “Oh, sorry, did I wake you?” It couldn’t possibly be time for her to wake up yet.

Donna grimaced. “I haven’t exactly been sleeping. I try, but it’s just...I don’t know. I’m not used to, um—”

“You can’t get to sleep on your own,” he finished for her.

“Yeah,” she admitted, eyes on her toes.

Neither of them spoke for an awful stretch of time.

“Do you think you could—no, it’s daft, forget I asked.”

He reached for her hand before she could retreat behind the door.

“Donna, whatever you need, I’m here.”

She visibly struggled for a moment before finally opening the door a little wider.

He’d had glimpses of Donna’s room on occasion, poked his head in now and then. But never had this sort of invitation been extended to him.

On any other occasion a thrill of excitement or joy might have accompanied this moment. The nerves at least carried over.

He shut the door behind him with as much care as he could, but the soft click was enough to cause her to drop his hand, casting an almost skittish look in his direction. The Doctor, who was desperately trying to keep control of his own composure, crossed to the loveseat sitting against the far wall.

But Donna could truly be contrary at times. “Oh, don’t sit over there. I’ll have to turn my neck all funny just to look at you.”

He changed course and perched on the side of her bed. “I thought the point was for you to sleep.”

“Who can sleep with you looming?” She began turning back the blankets. “And I don’t like people sitting on the covers.”

The Doctor had the thought that perhaps this was not the best idea, at least not for him, but it was what Donna wanted and thus he was powerless to do little else.

He toed off his shoes and debated a moment or two before shrugging out of his jacket. Then he climbed into the bed beside her. The TARDIS dimmed the lights on her own.

A good several inches separated them, and it was more likely his imagination was convincing him he could feel some kind of heat radiating off her. The Doctor fixed his gaze on the ceiling and focused on keeping his breath slow and even. A quick glance at Donna showed she was doing the same.

Just as he was about to ask whether this was helping or merely making it all worse, she spoke.

“If I go to sleep, I’m afraid I’ll see them and think it’s real, and then when I wake up I’ll have to lose them all over again.”

“See who?”

“Josh and Ella. My—the children that the Library made up. It’s them I really miss,” she said. “That’s not really kind to Lee, is it? I mean I do miss him, even if he wasn’t real, but I also...I don’t know what I’d do if I had found him.”

“You could always try making a go of it in real life,” he mused aloud, hoping he sounded completely neutral about the idea even though his mind was fully against it. “Might not be the same, but you never know.”

“Yeah.” It was probably his imagination that she seemed unenthusiastic. Then she rolled onto her side to look at him. “I know I said he was the perfect man for me, but I don’t know how we’d actually make it, him hardly talking and all. I think I can count on one hand the conversations we actually had. And that’s alright for a virtual reality where everything else gets filled in for you.”

“But you wouldn’t want that for actual reality?”

“Well, I’d just be talking and talking at him, and he’d probably be wishing I’d just shut it already. I mean, I’m talking your ear off right now, and anybody else would tell me to let them sleep, but it doesn’t bother you.”

“Even I know it’d be a bit hypocritical if it did,” he remarked. The Doctor didn’t need Donna’s help to realize now wasn’t the time to make this about him, however, so he rolled onto his side as well.

Somehow he forced out the words, “I’m sure if Lee were real and loved you it wouldn’t bother him, either.”

She smiled, and he couldn’t decide if that was good or not.

Donna snuggled a bit more into her pillow. “Goodnight, Spaceman.”

“Goodnight, Earthgirl.”

—-

The Doctor left long before she woke up. Not because he was uncomfortable; far from it. But that wasn’t what this was about.

He had been invited into Donna’s room and bed and confidance as a friend, purely to help her to sleep, not to let her wake up in his arms and be the first thing she saw in the morning. So he extricated himself from the tangled pile they had become somewhere in the half hour or so that he’d dozed off, picked up his jacket and shoes, and tiptoed to the door. Donna slept on.

She found him in the morning under the grating in the console room and carried with her two mugs of tea and a smile that seemed less brittle.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” The Doctor climbed out from under the grating and carefully asked, “Up for a day of running?”

She thought it over a moment. “I think so.”

—-

That night, she didn’t immediately withdraw the minute they got back to the TARDIS. He threw a little something together with noodles that probably wasn’t very good, but she ate it with a quiet, “Thanks,” anyway.

“Don’t get up,” he warned once she’d cleared her plate. He took all the dishes to the sink to wash and dry them himself.

When Donna was still sitting there after he’d finished, he didn’t have to ask. The Doctor placed his hand in hers and let her lead them back to her room.

He waited on top of the blankets while Donna shut herself in the bathroom and started the shower running. He twiddled his thumbs for about ten minutes, then leaned over and snagged a magazine off her bedside table.

When Donna emerged from the bathroom with towel-dried hair and in a set of comfy-looking pajamas, he was engrossed in an article about how proper nail care increased the human lifespan, supposedly. The Doctor didn’t look up until he realized she had stopped and was staring.

“What?”

“Haven’t you got anything to sleep in?”

He looked down at his tie and shirtsleeves. “Er, yes. Should I wear that next time?”

“I thought you’d have gotten them already.” Donna rolled her eyes and climbed into bed, so he wriggled under the blankets with her. Next time, then.

And when she laughed the next night at his pinstripe pajamas, he couldn’t find it in him to even pretend to be insulted.

—-

Donna did dream about the son and daughter she’d lost, but not in the way that she’d feared. He could tell because they weren’t happy dreams.

“No, no please! Please!”

The Doctor gathered her into his arms and stroked her hair, speaking softly in her ear.

“It’s over, Donna. You did everything you could. It’s over.”

He couldn’t tell her it was okay, not when it wasn’t. She deserved better than lies.

When Donna sagged against him, he knew he’d gotten through to her. The Doctor lowered them back down onto the bed, still wrapped up in each other.

They were all the other had. And he had to hope that would be enough.

—-

On Threnau Prime, they got kicked out of the palace for not being devout Frixops.

“You ever heard of tourists?” Donna hollered at the retreating backs of the guards. “Your economy’s loss, mate!”

She looked at him, eyes narrowing even further.

“What are you grinning about?”

The Doctor shook his head, smile only growing. “Nothing.”

Slowly but surely, he was getting his Donna back.

—-

“Do you miss her?” Donna asked out of the blue, her back to him.

“Miss who?”

“Your friend.” She was silent a beat too long, clearly debating whether to clarify. “Professor Song.”

The Doctor stared up at the ceiling, mind drawing a blank. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten River Song — how could he? — but he’d been so concerned with Donna that it had allowed him not to dwell on the woman who’d died for a him that didn’t exist yet.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “It’s hard to know what to miss.” His head fell to the side, resting on his pillow to stare at the back of her head. He wasn’t sure what Donna had made of his response with her not facing him. He wasn’t sure when it had become his pillow, either. “Why do you ask?”

Her shoulders were tense, that much he could tell, almost up to her ears. “I don’t know. I just thought, you’ve let me go on about what I lost in the Library. I wanted to check on you.”

The Doctor shook his head. “You don’t have to repay your time, Donna. They’re two different things.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Yours is real.”

He pushed himself up on an elbow. “Alright, what’s really bothering you?”

The little he could make out of Donna’s face now was flushed, though the exact shade he couldn’t say in the dark. “What?”

“Professor Song. Something about it is bothering you that you’re not saying.”

Maybe he was just hoping for an ulterior motive, but he couldn’t shake the thought now.

“It’s not—I’m not bothered,” she huffed. “I’m just saying if you miss her, I...don’t think I’m supposed to be around the next time.” She picked at a thread sticking out of her pillowcase and continued not to look at him. “So it’s okay if you want that to happen sooner. You don’t have to keep me around.”

The Doctor was completely still. He hadn’t even considered that Donna might think him eager to move onto whatever that adventure was. Certainly, he had some curiosity, but it was sobered by the reality of where it would end for River.

And if it meant giving up Donna, he wasn’t in any hurry to get there at all. Possibly ever.

The Doctor threw his arms around her and hooked his chin over her shoulder. Donna kicked her legs a couple times with a startled squawk.

“Hands!”

Just this once, he ignored her. “Donna, that could be years or centuries away. And I am perfectly content to wait.”

She peered back at him, searching for some hint of a lie. “Really?”

“Won’t even notice the time go by, long as I’ve got you around.”

Her gaze softened. “Daft. Daft Spaceman.” She turned her face away again, though this time he suspected it was to hide a smile.

He dared to snuggle a little closer. “But pretty, though, right?”

“Go to sleep.” Her arms came up, hugging his to her.

The Doctor closed his eyes with a smile of his own he didn’t bother to hide. “Yes, Madame.”

—-

They found themselves at an inn one night. There wasn’t much to be done until the Erinnian ship arrived tomorrow, and Donna had decided it was too far to make the trek all the way back to the TARDIS.

The Doctor trailed a step behind her as she marched up to the desk.

“Hi,” Donna greeted the hostess, who looked up and offered them a smile.

“Hello. May I help you and your husband—”

They didn’t let the poor woman finish.

“Oh, we’re not married.”

“Definitely not married.”

The hostess was clearly well-trained, for she merely gave a pleasant, “My mistake. Were you interested in booking two rooms, then?”

The Doctor and Donna looked at each other.

“Oh.” He scrubbed at one cheek without quite meeting the hostess’ eyes. “Well, one room would be fine.”

“Probably cheaper,” Donna added with a nervous laugh.

“A twin room?”

Another look was exchanged.

“Um—”

“Well—”

“Or we do have a double room available,” she added. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was the slightest amused smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“That’d be lovely, thanks,” the Doctor squeaked out.

The hostess passed over the key and told them the room number, though he was just happy to let Donna accept it and follow her hasty retreat out of the main room.

“So maybe next time, we just let them think whatever they want to think,” said Donna, fiddling with the key as they climbed the steps. “I mean, if they’re gonna think it anyway.”

“Sounds reasonable,” the Doctor agreed.

“Yeah,” she said, the funniest sort of quirk to her lips, like she couldn’t make up her mind whether to smile or frown. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

—-

He held her some nights and wondered if he made a suitable substitute or if Donna was merely making do. Did she pretend it was a broader chest at her back, bigger arms that held her?

Sometimes he’d catch her murmuring in her sleep unintelligible things, or she’d roll to face him and nuzzle her way under his chin. His hearts would constrict and a lump would rise in his throat. It wasn’t real, no matter how much he longed for it to be.

Inevitably she was going to say a name, and he knew it wouldn’t be his. It couldn’t be.

What the Doctor didn’t know was what he would do when that happened.

—-

They stopped off in Chiswick for a visit. Really, he should have brought Donna here immediately after the Library, but he’d been selfish and worried that she’d choose to remain with her family while the memories of he virtual one were so fresh.

Of course, if he’d known how intolerable Sylvia was going to be, he might have just kept on avoiding the place altogether.

“And how do you even support yourselves? You can’t have jobs, in and out the way you are.”

Technically, it was none of his business, even if the conversation was half about him. Donna and her mother were out in the kitchen and having a supposedly private talk, though he was pretty sure even Wilfred could hear judging by the man’s nervous fidgeting as they sat across from each other in the sitting room.

“Obviously, you’re still eating.”

“Actually lost half a stone since the last time we dropped by,” said Donna, and while he was glad she was standing up for herself, it pained his hearts that she was still looking for her mother’s approval.

“Hm, and I suppose that makes up for the rest of it.”

“What do you mean, the rest of it?”

“The unemployment, the lack of a proper roof over your head. I mean, how’s any of that going to look on your CV?”

“Sorry, is this a job interview? Where do I see myself in the next five years?”

“Donna—”

“Because I can tell you, it’s right where I am now!”

Wilf gave up any pretense of not being able to hear, cracking a smile and remarking to him, “That’s not bad, eh? She’s got plans for you.”

“For God’s sake, Donna, you’re almost forty!” Sylvia hissed like it was a dirty word. “You’ve got to be thinking about your future. A job, or a husband with a steady one, children!”

Sylvia had crossed a line. She didn’t know it, but she had. The Doctor stood and marched straight for the kitchen archway.

“And who says I want any of that?” Donna shouted just as he made it there. Whatever he’d been intending to say flew right out of his head as she turned and caught sight of him. She froze just as he had.

There was a long silence not even Sylvia seemed to know how to interrupt.

Faintly, the Doctor heard himself ask, “You...don’t?”

Donna slowly shook her head. Then, as if that hadn’t been enough, she spoke. “I’ve already got what I want.”

He had to be dreaming. Any minute he’d wake up with Donna’s breath on the back of his neck or her cold toes pressed to his calf — which sounded like a dream itself and therefore wasn’t at all helpful.

They made a quick exit from the Noble house after that, most of which was a blur in his mind. He couldn’t focus on much else except that Donna was happy just as she was and wasn’t looking to leave for anyone anytime soon.

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t ever want children or anything,” she confessed later that night. They were each on their separate ends of the bed like the first time. “I still miss Josh and Ella. And Lee. I suppose part of me always will. But I wouldn’t want to go back to that life.”

“No?”

She shook her head again. “I couldn’t. Cos that’d mean, well, the Library made me forget things. Mostly everything I’d been doing up till then, so I wouldn’t realize it was all fake. And probably so I wouldn’t want to go.”

“It made you forget the traveling?”

She didn’t answer for a long time. “Sometimes I’m scared if I fall asleep, I’ll really be in that world, and I won’t know how to get out. And everything I’ve seen and done out there’ll be gone, and you—” She stopped, too choked up to go on.

The Doctor only had to reach out with one hand before she was moving into his embrace.

“Hey, I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

He didn’t see anything wrong in saying it this time. It wasn’t a lie.

—-

One morning, he made a mistake. He stayed.

He hadn’t meant to. But he’d been waiting longer and longer to depart as the nights had gone on and it grew harder to leave her. Donna slept straight through most nights with no problem now, but he simply relished the feeling of her in his arms, red, red hair falling onto his shoulder.

It didn’t quite register when she blinked her eyes open. Only when her voice, still a little groggy, mumbled a, “Morning,” up at him did he realize with a start.

“Oh!” The Doctor’s eyes darted guiltily to the door he should have been through hours ago. “Uh, sorry.”

“What for?” She had to still be fogged up with sleep, that was the only reason she’d be watching him so calmly.

“Well, um, you probably want a minute, if you’re waking up,” he stammered. Donna usually didn’t emerge from her room until she’d at least combed her hair back from her face and found a robe to put on over her nightclothes.

She hummed a sort of acknowledgement to that, then let her eyes fall closed again. “Five more minutes, then.”

It didn’t seem to be a dismissal.

“Oh. Okay.”

Maybe this was real. Maybe Donna wanted to wake up to him in the morning just the same as he wanted to wake up to her. Maybe that was enough.

They were alright.

Hearts hammering loud enough that Donna had to be hearing them with her head resting on his chest, the Doctor dropped his head back onto his pillow and counted down from five minutes.

And then, since it wasn’t hurting anything, another five minutes more.