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[sadgirlautumn]

.

[scoopertrouper]

could you write about steve and nancy's first major fight (and reconciliation) after they got back together post s4?

anon, i hope you're happy. this prompt ate my brain, chewed it up, and then decided it didn't like how it tasted and spit it out. i was at the ZOO with an adorable little toddler, watching him watch the turtles in wonderment while also thinking "yeah, but WHY are steve and nancy fighting??"

ultimately i think the characters here still need some fine tuning/fleshing out and the premise really only works if you don't think about it too hard. i will probably revisit this in the future with a much stronger editorial eye. 😬

that said, i hope you still very much enjoy this impulsive, self-indulgent 5k words of breaking up (not really lol) and making up schmoop (+ warning for tasteful-ish spice at the end - sorry if that's not your thing).

***

can’t let you slide through my hands

“I don’t like this.”

Nancy hates her voice right now. It’s a quivering, slip of a sound, and she can barely hear it over the slamming echo of her heart inside her ears. 

But Steve hears it. He always hears her, even when it’s something he doesn’t want to hear. 

And if he’s trying to ignore her – trying to pretend the slow, careful grind of whetstone over the edge of his ax has drowned out her words – well, the brief glance he can’t help but flick in her direction gives him away entirely. 

“Steve.”

“Nancy.” 

Each syllable is even, practically toneless, and she hates it. 

“Why are you doing this?” Normally she’d work a lot harder to quash the weak, plaintive note that suffuses the word why, but he’s not listening to her and she doesn’t know what else to do. How else to get his attention. 

“You heard Hopper,” he says with that awful, carelessly empty inflection. “They need all the help they can get.”

Nancy’s fingernails bite into her palms. The sting of it somehow grounds and incenses her, all at the same time. 

“He only said that after you asked him if you could go.”

And hadn’t that been a kick in the pants – Nancy, resigned to staying behind playing bodyguard at Hopper’s request, while Steve only too eagerly offered to tromp off into the woods with Team Distraction like some kind of kamikaze lamb for slaughter. 

(That’s not fair. She knows that of the two of them, she has what could be considered the more important job. Stay at the cabin. Protect El. Make sure nothing happens to her if this frankly suicidal diversionary tactic doesn’t work and they’re attacked during yet another round of psychic Marco Polo with the biggest, baddest ugly they’ve faced yet. 

And she knows Hopper wasn’t lying – they probably could use Steve’s help out there, his seemingly infinite supply of athleticism. Just like she knows that it’s actually a huge compliment that Hopper's trusting her to help keep his daughter safe. So no, she’s not being fair. But also – it’s not fair.)

Steve finally looks up, and he’s wearing that face she’d gotten all too familiar with during the last couple months of their relationship, round one – the one that says he’s trying to see where she’s coming from, but he’s getting annoyed in spite of himself. She hasn’t seen it in quite some time, but she supposes it would’ve been silly to assume it had been retired for good. Neither of them has changed that much.

“Nance. Come on. You know I’m gonna be way more useful out there than I would be here. I’m a garbage shot, anyway.”

Nancy scoffs.

“So you’d rather be cannon fodder instead?”

He props the ax next to the door to the front door of the cabin and crosses his arms, looking a little wounded. 

“Jesus, give me some credit. I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”

“Sure, as long as someone’s there to follow your ass through a gate, and beat off the demon bats, and bandage you when you’re bleeding out all over the place!” 

She knows she’s probably starting to sound unhinged. She knows it. But she can’t help it. She does not want him to do this. This is not a good plan.

His face twists, and he looks like he wants to grab her – hold her like he would’ve if this were still September of senior year – but he pulls back at the last second. He does that a lot, now, like he’s still not totally sure what he has permission to do. 

She wishes he hadn’t. Touching him would be infinitely preferable to shouting at him. If she was touching him, she could grab on tight. Refuse to let go. Keep him anchored here by sheer force of will. 

“Nancy, I don’t get it,” he says, tossing his arms up helplessly instead of putting them around her. “This was exactly what your plan was the first time. Cause a ruckus. Create a diversion. Fly in under the radar. It worked once. Ish. We can make it work again, at least long enough for El to try and flush the creep out of hiding.”

Nancy’s jaw drops.

“Worked? Define worked, Steve!” Her eyes are burning. “Eddie is dead! Max is in a coma, maybe…maybe…” as good as dead “…forever. There is a gate to hell splitting the whole town open down the middle, and Vecna is still alive. Only now we have no idea where he is or what he’s doing! In what way would you say any of what we did worked?”

“Because we hurt him,” he responds immediately, low and hard. “We hurt him, and now – now we know he bleeds. We can hurt him again, Nancy, I gotta believe that.” His mouth thins. “Eddie dying, losing Max –” his voice cracks on the “a”, but he soldiers through it “– it all sucks. I hate it. But it wasn’t your fault. They knew what they were getting themselves into.” He pauses, and squares his shoulders. “They weren’t like Barb.”

Nancy’s mouth tastes like ash, and for once she can’t blame it on the air toxicity.

“Barb? Who said anything about Barb?” She’s trying to keep her breathing under control, but her voice sounds far away. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“Bullshit.” 

He looks at her dead on as he says it, like he knows she knows exactly what he means, and she sees red. She’s not sure what’s about to come out of her mouth, but she knows that whatever it is, she’s probably not going to be proud of it – and this time, she won’t be able to use spiked punch as an excuse, nor will she be granted the dubious mercy of drunken amnesia. 

“This has nothing to do with Barb,” she says slowly, “And everything to do with the fact that sometimes, I wish you weren’t so fucking stupid.”  

He flinches back like she’s slapped him and honestly, she might as well have. She feels sick. 

It’s the worst fight they’ve had – actually the only fight they’ve had – since they decided to try again, and what does it say about them that they didn’t last more than ten minutes before they started ripping out the stitches on old, barely healed wounds?

“Well you asked for this,” Steve finally replies, voice quivering minutely. “You’re the one who came to me and wanted to give this another shot. So you tell me which one of us is stupid.”

It hurts. It was supposed to. Nancy immediately feels herself deflate, like he’s sucked away all that was keeping her upright and angry. 

For once, she doesn’t have an immediate response and Steve doesn’t wait for one anyway, whirling on his heel and storming back into the house. 

He’s forgotten his ax. The blade gleams at her, mocking, from where it sits against the door frame. 

She’s a bit shaky, and she needs a minute to collect herself before she goes back inside. Everyone in the cabin is gonna know they’ve been fighting – the walls are not soundproof – and it’s humiliating.  

More humiliating is the fact that this is coming when they’ve hardly been back together two months (and when she’s barely been officially broken up with Jonathan for five). She knows what it looks like,  what she looks like – bouncing back and forth between two men on a whim because she can’t manage to choose once and for all who she wants.

But it’s not like that. Her relationship with Jonathan had been dead long before she’d been able or willing to admit it, and this thing with Steve is so new and old at the same time that it’s just – it’s hard to find her footing, sometimes. 

They’ve both changed so much, but now she’s realizing that there are ways they’ve stayed the same, too. And with the good always comes the bad.

Okay. Okay. She takes a deep breath, then two. She can’t stay out here forever. She has to go back inside, and hopefully they can awkwardly circle each other until they’ve cooled down enough to talk it over like the adults they almost are. 

Because she’s not giving up after one (shitty) fight. Rather than make her second guess her choice, Steve’s parting shot had the reverse effect – it had clarified exactly how stupid a decision it wasn’t. She had wanted this. She still wants it. 

It’s only been two months, sure, but she’s been happy, really happy (a miracle considering the world is literally ending around them). 

She hopes he’s felt the same, last ten minutes notwithstanding.

Damn it. She shouldn’t have said those things to him. That one thing. Guilt is settling over her like a blanket, thicker and more noxious than even the poisonous air of the Upside Down. 

Nancy’s not sorry about getting mad. If he wants her to be his girlfriend again – and she hopes he still wants her to be his girlfriend again – then he has to understand that she’s going to have an opinion on when and how he hurls his body into the line of fire. 

But being mean on purpose? That one, she’s pretty sorry for. Calling him stupid hadn’t been intended to do anything but inflict damage, and she knows she owes him an apology (once the thought of talking to him again doesn’t make the confused snarl of anger and regret and affection that’s all tangled up in her chest tighten to the point of pain).

First things first, though. 

Chin up, go back inside.

*****

At first, she’s grateful for how simple it is to avoid him all afternoon. The cabin is tiny, even taking into account the hastily constructed add-on that had come once the Byers realized that returning to California wasn’t an option, their house was no longer theirs and Hopper’s cabin in its original state had nowhere near enough space to house them all.

But as the unofficial headquarters for their little hodgepodge Upside Down insurgency, it’s also in a near-constant state of low-grade chaos, which is pretty easy to disappear into – or, in this case, use as a convenient excuse to avoid someone.

(That said, tension is tension, and in this case it’s so apparent that even Hopper – whose unspoken approach to any relationship that isn’t his own generally veers toward the less he knows, the better – shoots them both some pretty unimpressed looks when Steve volunteers himself and Robin, unprompted, for the second of the day’s supply runs.)

Her relief edges into anxiety, though, as they get closer and closer to nightfall and Nancy still hasn’t had a chance to get him alone or even do more than accidentally catch his eye over the sad cans of stew they scrounge up for pre-op dinner. It sits like sludge on her tongue (and based on the look on El’s face as she dutifully shovels down spoonfuls, that’s probably not just Nancy’s guilt talking).  

In fact, it’s only as they’re packing up to leave that she realizes she’s probably going to have to go out of her way to corner him, because while Hopper’s come inside to say his goodbyes, Steve's nowhere to be found. 

And part of her really, really wants to be petty and leave it at that. Wants to keep stewing in her resentment and let him go off alone because he was too much of a coward to spare her a fifteen-second goodbye.

But the larger, louder half of her brain won’t shut up about how she’d feel if something happened and the last thing she said to him was…that, so she sucks it up and stomps toward the door, flinging it open and –

– startling Steve so badly that he jerks back a step, eyes widening with alarm.

“Jesus, Nancy, you scared the shit outta me!” She can’t muster up more than a couple blinks in response, and he scuffs one of the dirty planks of the porch with his boot. “Look, I know I’m not, like, your favorite person right now, but I still wanted to come say, uh, see you later. You know…just because.”

Oh, he is such an asshole.

She doesn’t know how to tell him this in a way that would help him understand what she’s actually trying to communicate, so instead, she yanks him down and kisses him hard, something she hasn’t done in public much this go-around. It’s a frankly awful smash of lips and teeth, and may in fact be the worst kiss Nancy has ever given or received.

Regardless, she thinks it gets the point across. 

She pulls back, mouth throbbing, and stares at him again, fingers clenched in the collar of his jacket as he stands there, stunned and swaying. 

“See you later, Steve,” she says pointedly, instead of “please, come back”, or, better yet, “don’t fucking go.” He softens immediately, and inches forward.

“Nancy –”

“Later,” she interrupts firmly. “When you get back. Okay?”

Steve eyes her for several long seconds, then relents.

“Okay,” he says, then he kisses her for real this time (gently, because ow), a brief little soft–as–silk press that leaves her wanting more than she can possibly hope to have at this specific moment.

When she goes back inside (she refuses to watch them roll off into the distance like she’s some kind of war bride, she carries a gun for Christ’s sake), she pauses for a moment, debating checking for the third time since midday that her rifle is loaded and ready. 

Jonathan is there, sitting tense at the two-person kitchen table, staring out into the woods as the rest of the gang helps prep El (or "helps" in some cases).

Most of the time, they’re pretty civil with each other. The breakup had basically been mutual, and she only gets a little livid mad now when she thinks about how he lied to her about Emerson. And kept lying to her. Until the only goddamn reason she found out was because – anyway.

Most of the time, if she ignores inconsequential context like that, they’re pretty civil. 

“Trouble in paradise?” he says, almost inaudibly. 

She takes her rifle to the living room. 

****

In the end, the night and the operation are both total duds, and doesn’t that just add insult to injury?

El searches for what feels like hours, pushing herself farther and farther until her nose is bleeding thickly enough that Joyce sternly calls time on the whole exercise. 

No go, is what El says afterward, wiping blood off her face. Some of it ends up smeared under one of her darkly ringed eyes, and she lets Mike fuss over her until it’s gone. 

Whatever psychic plane she usually ducks into is dead silent, and in the corporeal world, there isn’t a single peep out of anything Upside Down-adjacent, as Hopper reports via walkie-talkie. No stray demodogs, not even an errant vine around what’s usually one of the most active sections of the gate. 

And nothing from Max, who Lucas has taken to watching like a hawk – “just in case” – whenever they can spare him. Nancy’s not sure what’s meant to follow “just in case”, and she’s always been a tiny bit afraid of what Lucas might come back with if she asks – so she doesn’t. For once, she doesn’t need answers.

It’s eerie, and anticlimactic, and it leaves Nancy with an uneasy pit in her stomach. Under the circumstances, no news doesn’t always feel like good news.

With how the night has fizzled, she doesn’t expect much when Hopper’s group rumbles down the drive – so the jagged, ugly cut she can see arcing down the left side of Steve’s forehead from even as far off as the front window comes as a nasty shock. (Though honestly, should it?)

“What the hell happened?” she demands, running to meet them before they can even climb out of the truck. “I thought you said it was quiet.”

“It was,” Hopper confirms, killing the ignition. “Not a crawler in sight. Wanna fill the lady in on what went down, Harrington?” 

The laughter is plain in his voice, and Nancy instantly relaxes. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been serious.

Steve looks downright mutinous as he crawls out of the back cab alongside Wayne. Good. See if he wants to abandon Nancy to go play Rambo after that. 

“Got into it with a tree branch,” he mutters, mortified. “Tree – one, Steve – zero.” He gestures up at his forehead. “Obviously.”

The fact that Nancy manages to mostly keep a straight face should probably automatically shortlist her for inclusion into some kind of Greatest Girlfriend Ever hall of fame. As it is, Dustin, (who’s been uncharacteristically quiet all night), does the dirty work for her.

“Jesus, Steve, is there anything you can beat in a fight?”

“Excuse the shit outta me, Henderson, but did I or did I not save your ass from goddamn Russian soldiers?”

“One Russian soldier, Steve. One. And I don’t even know if it counts when you mrrflmgh –” Dustin gurgles helplessly for a few seconds behind the iron hand Nancy clamps over his mouth before eventually giving up and going silent.

“I think what Dustin is trying to say is that he’s glad everyone’s okay,” she says with as much brightness as she can muster. “Right?” she asks pointedly, releasing him. There’s a long pause, and then he sighs.

“Sure,” he says with all the enthusiasm of a dental patient undergoing a root canal. “Glad to have you all back.” 

He shuffles back into the cabin, and Nancy knows that one of these days, someone’s gonna have to have a talk with him about his wild mood swings. But she doesn’t really want that someone to be her, so she’s refrained from bringing it up thus far.

“Someone’s gotta check that kid,” Steve utters almost inaudibly, agreeing with Nancy’s silent train of thought (and sounding more concerned than irritated). He’s sneaking glances in Dustin’s wake like he thinks he might be able to get away with following him.

Nancy clears her throat, ready to disabuse him of that notion.

“Some other time, Rocky,” she says, and she means it to be teasing, but it comes out too fond to be entirely successful. “Why don’t we get that cut taken care of, first?” 

She holds out her hand, and he only hesitates a second before he takes it firmly in his, palm to palm.

***

They stay linked like that as she leads him all the way to the tiny half-bath at the back of the new addition, and he only lets go when she shuts them in and urges him down onto the closed toilet so she can comfortably reach his forehead. 

For a few moments, he allows her to work in silence, wincing when she has to pour hydrogen peroxide over the cut (she still doesn’t know if you can actually get Upside Down rabies, but better safe than sorry with all weird dust particles floating around). 

Without the dried blood crusting it, it actually looks very superficial. Nancy breathes a sigh of relief, though she’ll still layer it with some antibiotic cream to be safe.

“I guess I just…don’t get it.” Apropos of nothing, Steve chooses this moment to speak quietly, picking up the loose thread of a conversation they haven’t even started yet. “The last time we were together, you were pissed because I didn’t want to get involved. Now I’m all in, and it doesn’t seem like you like that, either.”

Nancy’s fingers freeze on the cap of Neosporin.

“Steve.” She sets the tube aside and makes an executive decision – she needs to be touching him if he’s gonna insist on talking about this here. “Before we do this, can you do me a favor, first?” 

Nancy picks up his hands and haphazardly plants them on her hips before slipping her own up to cage his face. His brow furrows, but he doesn’t move an inch from where she’s arranged them. “Can you just…stop stopping yourself from touching me? I know we’re in kind of a weird place right now, but I promise you – if you want to, then there’s a pretty damn good chance I want to, too.”

The confused lines in his forehead don’t ease, but his fingers adjust and tighten around her sides until he’s holding her with surety. Surrounded by the warmth of him, the invisible string that’s been holding her shoulders taut all day loosens.

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” he says slowly, eyes skimming her face like she’s this entirely new person who just happens to still look and dress like Nancy. “I – of course I’ll stop. It’s not like holding you is some kind of hardship, Nance.” He looks down. “That still doesn’t answer my question, though.”

Nancy refrains from noting that he hadn’t asked a question, he’d merely made an observation. That level of pedantry probably won’t help much in her “get Steve to touch her more” crusade.

“I know,” she says instead. “But Steve, it’s not – I don’t get mad because you get involved. I love that. I think it’s…” She can feel a dull flush start to creep up her neck. “This can never leave this room, okay, but it can – it can be very hot when you go all action hero.” The flush has extended all the way up through her cheeks. Mercifully, he doesn’t comment on it, though a faint little glimmer that she hasn’t seen all day is creeping back into his gaze.

“Right back ‘atcha, Wheeler,” he returns with a trace smile, and oh! That’s flirting. That’s a good sign. “But then…why did you…?”

“React the way I did?” He tilts his head in the slightest nod. “Because I wanted you to stay with me,” she finally admits, feeling more naked in front of him now than on the night she’d given him her virginity. “The hero thing – it’s nice and all, don’t get me wrong. And sometimes it’s necessary, but I – I don’t need that. I don’t need a hero. I just…want a partner. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

“Nancy…” In a blink, the amused glint is gone. In its place, he looks raw, like she’s torn him down to the studs.

There’s a lick of hair curling over his ear that she’s taken to mindlessly stroking, and it’s easier to keep staring at that than look into his eyes while she gets this off her chest.

“When we got back together,” she continues on, “you made me a promise. Remember?”

“Yeah,” he replies, and his voice is achingly soft. “I promised you we’d come out of this okay.” He turns his face into her hand, lips brushing against her palm with every tingling syllable. “I meant it.” 

“Yeah, but.” Nancy chews her lip. “If I can’t convince you that you matter more than how hard you swing or how many hits you can take, if you won’t stay with me so we can work together and watch each other’s backs, I don’t see how that’s possible.”

Abruptly, Steve’s standing, nudging his way deeper into her space, and the way he can tower over her a bit, dark and solid – well, Nancy fancies herself a feminist, but not so much that she’ll pretend it doesn’t make her shiver in a good way.

“Goddammit, Nancy,” he croaks, and then he’s folding her in his arms, curling tight around her body. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t – I didn’t even realize,” he mumbles into the nook of her neck and shoulder. “Shit, I am stupid.”

“You’re not,” Nancy chokes, tightening her arms around his neck like she’d wanted to earlier. He’s still wearing his jacket, and the zipper is digging painfully into the V of her collarbone, but it barely registers. She thinks it would take a literal earthquake to dislodge her right now. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry. You weren’t even wrong, it’s just that – sometimes it’s still really hard to talk about her.” 

She doesn’t need to specify who the “her” in question is. There are definitely a few tears leaking into the leather of his collar, but no one can see them, so it’s neither here nor there.

“I get it,” he says, “but I wanna talk to you about this stuff. If – if you want to. With me. I know I wasn’t there for you before but I swear I can be that guy now.”

“I know,” she gasps, because he’s holding her so tightly that it’s hard to breathe, but if the tradeoff is losing this hot–all–over feeling of his hands on her, then it’s fine, air is overrated anyway. “You are. You are that guy. I want you, I want us. I want you to believe that.”

Their bodies are so constrained in this tiny space, but there’s something wild crackling in the air, something that raises goosebumps on her arms and makes it so that one minute she’s mouthing reassurances into his jaw, and the next, he’s tilting his chin and kissing her quiet, stealing her words with one wet, electric sweep of his tongue.

Yes. She fists his hair between her fingers, soft and a little overlong, swallowing down his helpless whine as she angles his head so she can open wider under him. 

This – this is why, so far, she’s barely been able to kiss him outside of the privacy of one of their rooms. 

Because every time, almost as soon as it starts, they’re set ablaze, twin infernos trying to consume each other alive. It was never like this before, so she has no roadmap for how to cope, how to process the overpowering need that has her spreading her legs to draw him closer and shoving her hands under layers of leather and cotton to get at sweaty skin. 

“Steve,” she whimpers into his lips, rocking her hips up in a pale facsimile of what she truly wants (but it still feels so good). “I need…”

“I know,” he groans, sucking gently at her sensitive pulse point until she’s keening quietly and grinding harder into the rigid seam of his jeans. Everything is tight, and hot, and she thinks she might vibrate right out of her own body if she can’t get what she’s craving.

The night they got back together, they’d had every good intention of taking it slow, of getting to know each other again before jumping back into the physical. 

But that had lasted about as long as it took for him to get a hand under the band of her bra, and eventually he’d ended up fucking her nice and slow behind the locked door of her childhood bedroom, trailing scorching kisses from her swollen lips to the tips of her breasts until she was shaking apart into the mattress, vision white and head empty of anything that wasn’t him – his scent, his body over hers, the quivering place where he nestled inside her.

They don’t have time for that now – they hardly ever have time for that, which probably doesn’t help quell the desperate desire – so they make do, as always, with what they can. 

They make do with his hips, pushing into hers again and again in easy, dirty twists, sensation blunted between two layers of jeans but still enough to have her choking back moans, nipples pebbled hard into two pinpricks of pleasure against the stiff padding of her bra. They make do with deep, messy kisses, which also muffle the needy noises they can’t contain as their bodies strain higher and higher toward a mutual peak.

They make do with hands, scratching up his back and through his chest hair. Squeezing at her ass and guiding her movements until all Nancy has to do is hang on for dear life and enjoy the ride. 

When she finally crashes over the edge, it hits out of nowhere, in flashing, pulsing waves that come hard and fast until she’s digging fists into his shoulder blades and sucking on his tongue in a frantic attempt to stay silent. He’s not far behind, and when he tears himself away from her lips to bury his head in her shoulder, she can feel more than hear the deep shudder of his groan as he trembles in her arms.

Finally, they both still, slumping back against the wall in a frazzled tangle, and reality comes seeping in one mortifying realization at a time. 

“We‘re…still in Hopper’s bathroom, aren’t we?” Nancy asks faintly.

“Yup.” He pops the “p” against her skin, but doesn’t look up. 

“And…we’ve been in here a really long time.” Way longer than it would take to treat that cut on his head, anyway.

“Probably.” 

“My brother is out there. With his girlfriend. And his friends. Our friends.”

“He sure is.”

He sounds way more cheerful than anyone about to face down a firing squad of nosy teenagers ought to be – but then again, she’s remarkably relaxed, too.

Huh. Could it be that in the end, all they really needed was to get off?

(Probably not.) 

Steve finally shoves away from the wall and adjusts his pants, grimacing. 

“Okay, being honest, this might not’ve been our brightest idea,” he admits.

Nancy catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror just over his shoulder. Her face is flushed, and her eyes are bright. She looks pleased. Happy.

“Probably not, but can’t argue with results,” she teases, stepping back into his space and slipping an arm around his waist, under his jacket. 

He grins down at her, and he looks like such a man – handsome, and kind, and hers – that her heart skips. 

They’re not kids anymore, playacting at some great love that, in the end, was mostly smoke and mirrors. If they make it out of this, like he’s promised they will, they’ll be – they’ll be basically grown ups.

This time, it’s real. Maybe even for keeps. 

That should freak her out, but it doesn’t. 

He presses his smile to her forehead, chaste and sweet, and slings an arm around her neck. 

“Who am I to argue with the beautiful Nancy Wheeler?” he says with more than a bit of irony, and she laughs, because she wants to and he wants her to. “Ready to face the music?”

“Together?” Nancy doesn’t shield the hope in her voice. He dips his forehead to rest against hers, nudges their noses together.

“Wild demodogs couldn’t drag me away,” he says softly, sincerely, and the warm, secret feeling in Nancy’s chest – the one she’s been carrying around for months, waiting until she’s absolutely sure she has a name for it – balloons outward. 

Soon, it’ll be too big for her body alone to bear. One day, it will demand to be shared, and she’ll give it freely and joyfully. 

Not yet, but soon. 

“Come on, then,” she says.

She tugs him forward, and he follows.

***

(normalize panicking and giving an established character an extensive home reno complete with plumbing work smack dab in the middle of an apocalypse simply because you realized that the house's canon layout was not conducive to the main pairing getting it on as you had originally written.)

[oviids]

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.*  - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul.  slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes*  - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

[idanit]

possibly underappreciated Good Omens fics I enjoyed once upon a time

Indirectly inspired by a video series about fanfiction I watched, I decided to pull together a list of Good Omens fics I have bookmarked as stories I enjoyed, but which have less than 250-300 kudos at the time I’m writing this. No particular order. They’re accompanied by short excerpts from my private fic reading notes (not originally intended to be read by anyone but me, mind), sometimes slightly edited for clarity—and, sometimes, the comments I left on the fics.

This list sat in my drafts for a long time and the recent S2 announcement reminded me of it. I’d love it if it inspired you to do something similar! Spread the love.

And mind the tags, please.

△ = general and teen ▲ = mature and explicit 

thermodynamic equilibrium ▲ 7K the author has such an ear for dialogue and is unapologetic about what they want to write the characters like. They think of the characters as a mix of TV and book canon, but they feel like a homemade blend to me. (...) It’s very funny.

such dear follies ▲ 6K I can really picture this Aziraphale—Crowley as well, but her especially. She’s rather distinct. (...) Nice writing.

The Words Were With - △ 1.2K post-Blitz vignette, Aziraphale realizes what he feels and wonders if they're human enough for this. I liked it, and I liked the tag "transhumanism, but in reverse?", too—what an interesting idea. I'd say it's a vignette in a dire need of a follow-up, but, well, there's the show. The show is the follow-up. It fits very nicely within the canon and I totally believe it could have happened, like a deleted scene.

Gossip and Good Counsel △ 19K/? I love their companionship and how they're set up to be opposites by the management even though they get on pretty well. It feels very in keeping with the canon, but I feel like the fact that it's an F/F set in this particular time period adds a meaningful layer to the situation. It's women supporting each other in the world of men, working with the personas that are created for them, but, privately, being normal, well-rounded people. (...) and of course your writing is always a pleasure to read. (...) SDHDGDHDHDG Maisie is truly an Aziraphale.

Crowley Went Down to Georgia (he was looking for a soul to steal) △ 6K This was nice. Based on a song I didn’t know. Crowley goes to a funeral in the USA, one of a fiddler he knew and lost a bet to once. (...) The fic has not one but two songs composed for it and embedded inside it and that makes it even better. I really enjoyed the experience.

The Thing With Feathers △ 18K WARLOCK you'rE HORRIBLE AND I LOVE IT I would read an entire novel-length fic just of Crowley fighting his battles with Warlock. Written like this? It would be a blast. (...) The OCs are believably characterized and well-loved by the story. (...) Everyone seems to need a friend in this house. (...) This was so fun, and at the same time, their mission has weight here (...) We wonder about what the future holds even though we know it.

Here Quiet Find △ 11K This fic aimed for my head and the aim was sure precise. It was a story of Crowley sensing Aziraphale's distress and finding him in a self-quarantined English village in the seventeenth century, tired and anxious. It's hurt/comfort, so there was washing and bedsharing and I had to love it, so I did.

outside of time △ 2K Post-Almostgeddon, (...) nicely-written, short, but strung with a soft kind of tension and unspoken words. There's no drama, just "can we really", and "do you really" of sudden freedom. They fall into being inseparable. Book canon, which I like for this story (sitting on a tarmac). I liked the footnotes. There's a mention of Eliot. All in all, very much yes.

She'asani Yisrael △ 2K It’s Crowley going through a two-hour service and drinking blessed wine. He also keeps an eye on a boy he was asked to. It’s 1946. It was pretty good, so far the best Jewish GO fic, I think, from the ones I’ve read.

To Guard The Eastern Gate △ 11K  I loved it. You really made Sodom feel lived-in; the description of Keret, Hurriya and Yassib's house and relationship were great. I got attached to both them and the city (...) Aziraphale and Crawley’s interactions were generally very entertaining. I laughed (...) Your rendering of their voices just lands so well (...) But then oh, the entire ending (...) hurt, hurt a lot, and your descriptions are so vivid.

If you’ve been waiting (for falling in love) △ 14K AAAAA a good ending line. The whole paragraph, in fact. I love a good smattering of philosophy in my fics, and this was really nice. I can get behind Thomas Aequinus's and Crowley's view on eternity. It's (...) a pretty simple fic (...) - the courage to express yourself and take a risk is awarded with winning what was at stake by the virtue of reciprocity - but the way it was intertwined with a study of how they would experience a forever was done well. 

Holy unnecessary ▲ 2.2K It's well-written. (...) this is my type of sexual humour if I have any. So subtle. Blink and you'll miss it. Lovely.

The Parting Glass △ 17K Through the ages, they're dancing around their relationship until after the Armageddoff. (...) Wow, this was really, really nice. Very simple in its concept and nothing I haven't read before, but very well-executed. (...) AAAAH I LOVED the first chapter. I always like abbeys as settings, that's a given, but the banter, the good writing, the moral ambiguity!

Name The Sky △ 33K This Crowley is different, but very intriguing. Without his sarcastic talk, and much more animalistic. (...) I love how expressive Crowley is. (...) This fic has a very nice balance of drama and levity. I don't love Crowley-before-the-Fall stories very much, but with this execution I can read about it. (...) Okay I've read Crowley offering fruits, and even Aziraphale biting fruits, but the two of them sharing the apple? Outstanding. Ingenious. What a take.

A Flame in Your Heart △ 5K post-Blitz (why are so many dance fics post-Blitz?), they go to the bookshop and have an actually believable conversation. Then they dance the gavotte. It was really nice! Believable writing, emotions, the dancing! (...) Of course it's too early for them, (...) but the author's note? yeah.

Put down the apple, Adam, and come away with me ▲ 32K At this point it's just reading original stories with characters with names and some personality traits that I recognize. (...) I really enjoy this, the careful dance, the opposition between their views. (...) This is well-written, wow. (...) it's not an easy read (...) this story feels very believably 50s, but also reaches out to the present time. 

Liebestraum ▲ 10K/? It really is like music. I'm enjoying the writing a lot. (...) oh my actual god. This, this? Wow, uh. This came for my throat. (...) THE MUSICAL COMPOSITION, THE MOTIF RETURNING, THE AUTHOR KNOWS WHERE IT'S AT (...) Excellent. This hits the right beats so precisely, (...) and with feeling, too.

Down Comforter △ 2.4K and they lay down in angeldown, a soft rug ‘neath their heads– alright. Well, Crowley lies under Aziraphale's wing on a Persian rug after the Apocalypse, and they talk (...). It was sweet.

The Corsair of Carcosa △ 5K Crowley wakes up from a nap, visits Aziraphale for some drinking, and they read The King in Yellow that he happens to own. Good writing, so I'm bought. Aziraphale mentions Beardsley, so I'm bought twice over. My god, a discussion of etheral/occult madness? Caused by some wrong/true reading? Yes.

Very Good, Omens! △ 6K It's rather well-written, well-pastiched. People don't do that too often, nowadays - try to write in the style of a particular writer. (...) I love wordplay like this.

Reviving Robin Hood: The Complicated Process of Crème Brûlée △ 30K it's well-written (...), has a rhythm to it, and quiet humour. (...) Finally some nice, good, light writing. The attention to detail! (...) I'm still reading most of it aloud, the rhythm of it compels me to. (...) okay this does sound like Pratchett&Gaiman, the Good Omens itself (...) The fic is meandering, hilarious, sensitive in all the right places, and overall lovely.

my dear acquaintance △ 1K Oh. Oh. Yes, yes! Aziraphale in Russia, Russia I've never been in, but I can feel the snow and the evening of. Very real, and the bar, too. Attention to detail - vodka flavoured with dill, what on earth? Yes. He would totally have a distinct taste in operas and he would totally complain about a subpar one. I'm glad Tchaikovsky's there.

there is a crack in everything △ 1.8K This was good! Ah. Inspired by a comment (...), I went looking for Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese fics—really, what a big brain moment someone had and why have I never thought to look for them? This is Crowley getting suddenly anxious and Aziraphale going out of his way, through all his layers of not-thinking and denial, to console him. I also really liked how the Arrangement is a carefully unacknowledged partnership-marriage.

Scales And Gold And Wings And Scars △ 6K  No conflict, no plot, one tiny arc like a ripple on the surface of water on a calm sunny day - of Aziraphale discovering Crowley’s scars. It's the South Downs and it's early summer. They bask and swim in a spring. Non-sexual nudity, love in the air like a scent. Nice.

Nineteen Footnotes In Search Of A Story △ 0.4K This is a Good Omens story told only through footnotes. Your mind can fill in the gaps. Fascinating (...). Also, it’s an experiment so apt for this particular fandom.

Hell on Earth △ 6.5K Oh, I loved it! How could I not love it: it's Beelzebub-centric, it's historical, it has classical painting, and even a hilarious scene with a cuneiform phrase, as if I didn't enjoy this story enough already. There are so few Beelzebub fics out there and I find searching for them very difficult (I accept recs if anyone has any), and it's such a shame, so this was really like a gift to the fandom. I absolutely adore the way you portrayed them, small, frightening, powerful, and confident. Also, it was super fun to see how different Crowley seems when we're not in his POV or in a story about him and Aziraphale. (...)

Go Up to Ramoth-Gilead and Triumph △ 24K Daegaer is... pure class. (...) hdhdhdh what pfttt why you so funny (...) I love this Crowley. (...) This got unexpectedly intense. (...) I love the little nods to the fact that Israelites, especially the poorer ones, still believe in other gods. I also really like that they sleep on roofs. It's just the kind of detail that grounds the story and shows that the author is, in fact, a historian. 

[matbarzyy]

4 times you made Mat’s apartment feel like home and 1 time you didn’t

A/N: This is my first ever attempt at a 4+1, I figured it’d be fun to try. This is angst so that I don’t always post fluff/smut, I like to mix it up lol. It was supposed to be a relatively short one and I somehow ended up at 5k so enjoy I guess.

Word count: 5210

Warnings: Heartbreak I guess

.

1.

One month.

It was the longest you had gone without seeing Mat since you had moved in together. You were both buzzing for him to come back so you could be sharing the same space again, you could never get enough of each other.

“Hello beautiful,” Mat’s grin was the biggest you had ever seen on his face, it was the kind of smile he could never fight off even if he wanted to.

“Hi handsome,” You returned the greeting with the words you used every time he called you. It started off as a joke but quickly became a habit that made both of your hearts flutter.

Mat didn’t hesitate to step forward and engulf you in a tight hug, his bags forgotten by the door.

“I missed you,” He breathed out, squeezing you against him and bathing in the feeling of holding you again. You smelled like home. It was everything he had been dreaming of alone in his bed, your warmth, the way you fit perfectly against his body.

“You’re never going anywhere without me again,” You mumbled against his chest, knowing you wouldn’t be pulling away for another minute or two at least.

You said it every time, you hated being away from him, but after you settled down together for a few days you went back to your usual mood. Mat needed to move, he loved hockey and visiting his family or travelling for games. You loved coming with him for those things, but sometimes he had to go alone and you were both okay with it.

Things never changed. You loved each other more than words could describe, some time apart would never break that. Every time Mat came home he still felt the exact same way about you, and you felt the exact same way about him. It was comfortable and safe to be together, you made each other happy.

“Do you mind if I go shower quickly? And then we can get cuddled up in bed?” Mat kissed the top of your head, rubbing your back gently as he pulled back to look at you.

“Can I come in the shower with you?” Your arms remained around his torso, refusing to let him go, and a soft smile grew on his face.

“Of course baby,”

There was nothing sexual about it, although you could never lie about what seeing Mat naked did to you. It was intimate and comforting, something you desperately needed after missing out on hugs and kisses for so long.

“You have no ideas how many times I dreamed of this with you,” Mat guided you under the stream of water so that you could rinse off the soap he had been rubbing over your body.

Steam was building up in the room, making the mirror foggy and warming up the air. You liked it that way, it meant less fighting between you and Mat to be under the hot water.

“It’s been the same here for me,” You kissed his jaw and guided him to turn around so that you could rub his back. “I think about you constantly,”

“You wanna go on a date tomorrow night?” He spoke softly as the tension fell from his muscles. You were magic.

“Of course,” You kissed his shoulder blade. “We always go on a date the day after you get back,”

“I know,” He hummed, turning back to face you. “I always look forward to it, it makes things feel normal again,”

“Mat?” You whispered because of how close he suddenly was, his hands at your waist and his forehead resting against yours.

“Mmh?”

“I love you so much it still overwhelms me every time I see you.” You told him without shying away. Mat was your safety, the person you confided everything in, and you opened your heart to him without hesitation.

His lips found yours without a reply, but the way he kissed you told you enough. You wrapped your arms around his neck to get closer and felt his own tighten around your body, pulling you in until the rest of the world disappeared. Mat murmured something against your lips when he gently pushed your back against the wall, but his lips were still so close to yours that you couldn’t decipher the words.

What he said didn’t really matter, Mat was home.

2.

“It’d be cute if we had a puppy,” Mat finished folding your favorite blanket on the couch to tidy the living room. It was all he had found to keep himself busy, but since the place was already clean there wasn’t much for him to do.

“Mmh, yeah, maybe,” You smiled at him as you looked up from your laptop, barely hearing his words but replying anyway because you didn’t want to ignore him.

You still had a lot of work to do but Mat was being the most distracting person ever. He thought it was fair, it was his first weekend home in a long time and he hadn’t spent time with you apart from sleeping in at least three weeks, if not a month. He had then spent two days away and just got back. He knew it wasn’t like he left for a roadie or some other long trip, but he had still expected you’d catch up on quality time together.

“What kind of dog would you want?” He interrupted your focus once more, hoping it would start an actual conversation that would stop him from being so bored. He knew there were other things for him to do, but nothing he wanted to do without you.

“I don’t know Mat,” You half sighed, frowning as you struggled to put the end of your sentence together.

“I think a golden retriever would be cute,”

“I’m still working, you mind giving me just another hour of quiet?” You eventually tore your eyes from the screen to give him your full attention. It was what he wanted, but not exactly like this.

“Yeah sure,” Mat tried not to take it to heart, you didn’t sound snappy, but he still felt like you didn’t want him around.

He missed you and everything you used to do together, he couldn’t help being needy, and your rejection, although justified, hurt him.

You bit your lip as you got through the last of your emails, doing everything you had to get done by the end of the night while Mat stayed in your shared bedroom on his own. You almost called him over to tell him he could watch something with you while you worked, but it would be too distracting for you and you didn’t know if he was mad at you.

“Hey champ,” You quietly opened the door to the bedroom, tiptoeing to your side of the bed because it was the closest. “Can I join?” You knew he’d be watching hockey for a while still, and while you weren’t particularly in the mood to focus on a game you just wanted to be with him.

“Course,” He glanced at you but focused back on the screen quickly. He was clearly in work mode too, watching players carefully to see what he could pick up from them to up his game.

You hesitated for a second, wondering if you were bothering him, but you climbed into the bed anyway. Mat opened an arm wordlessly, inviting you to cuddle, and you didn’t need more to come rest against his side. Your eyes fell shut faster than you thought they would, you were too tired to focus on the game and the warmth of Mat’s body was all you needed to start feeling sleepy.

His body slid down with yours, putting you both under the covers while you blinked your eyes open. You didn’t realise it had been that long, and you stirred a little as you tried to look at him.

“What…”

“Shh,” He kissed your forehead, pulling away to grab the remote and turn the TV off. “Go to sleep,” He didn’t let you move much, wanting to keep you in the position you were about to fall asleep into.

“You were watching the game,” You mumbled, not complaining that you had to keep your head on his chest. It was warm and comfortable, you liked feeling his heartbeat under your palm where you rested your head.

“I don’t care about the game, just wanna cuddle you,” He usually watched players carefully, but he had only put this one on to wait for you. There was nothing he wanted more than to be in bed with you, every problem of the day long forgotten as you held onto each other.

Right there, watching you fall asleep on his chest, Mat felt at home.

3.

“What are you all dressed up for?” You looked up from your work to see Mat just finishing to button his shirt.

“I just got back, it’s date night,” His heart deflated when he realised you had forgotten, but he felt a little bit better when you closed your laptop without hesitation.

“Shit, I’m sorry. What time do we need to be there?” You glanced at your watch and bit your lip nervously.

“In half an hour, it’s fifteen minutes away,” He had picked a restaurant you mentioned wanting to try, but now that he thought about it he figured he should have made reservations somewhere he was curious about.

“I’ll hurry, we might be five minutes late?” You hoped he wouldn’t be too mad at you.

Somehow, you would have preferred a little bit of anger you could talk out than the disinterested shrug he gave you as he replied.

“Sure, it’s whatever,”

You were still thankful he never, ever raised his voice. You couldn’t take that, he had known from the start that it would only make things worse. You had enough bad experiences with men yelling in your life and you didn’t want to have to deal with more, so he had promised to always talk things out with you. He promised that no matter the temper he sometimes had on the ice, that would never be him off it.

It was part of the reason you trusted him so much. He was a wall of muscles compared to you, but you were never scared of him because he had always acted as soft as a golden retriever puppy around you.

Mat busied himself on his phone while you rushed to put on a nice blouse with trousers you recently bought. You tied the look with a pair of heels and put on a little bit of makeup before grabbing your purse and phone to meet him at the door.

“Okay I’m ready,” You followed him quickly, heading to his car while you ran your hand through your hair in hope of making it look alright.

“You’ve been working insane hours lately,”

“So have you,” You didn’t want to be mean, but Mat was always training. Working overtime wasn’t that common for you, once you were out of the office you were the most normal person, whereas Mat’s job followed him everywhere and was much harder to plan around.

“I guess yeah,” He nodded, eyes focused on the road.

Things were different lately. You were distant, barely doing anything with him, and he knew part of it was his fault too. It was one of those hard times when everything felt out of place, but they had never lasted so long in your relationship before.

“The position for general manager is open, I’m really hoping I have a shot at it,” You explained to hopefully settle the mood in the car. There was a reason you were pushing yourself until late at night, and Mat felt bad for reacting that way.

“Oh wow, shit that’s good,” He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You were busy,” You shrugged it off, trying not to make him feel like it was another dig at him.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t care,” His palm faced up when he rested his hand on his knee, hoping you’d take it.

“I know,” You placed your hand in his and squeezed reassuringly.

Dinner was still a little uncomfortable, but it wasn’t as bad as the moment you spent in the car.

It was hard to place why, but the conversation felt forced. You had never found it so hard to talk to Mathew before, things had always flowed between you, but for the past few months you had grown on your own sides without sharing as much as you used to. The hockey season was just starting and you were following it, but you didn’t know as much as you should about what was going on with the team.

Mat told you about the guys and you struggled to catch up, not knowing much of what had been going on with any of his friends lately. You used to be tight with his team, they were like family, but you couldn’t even remember the last time you had even seen Tito.

Things were different, somehow, you had drifted apart and you were both clinging to something that would bring you back together. The drive back from the restaurant was quiet, music from the radio filling the gap that neither of you could acknowledge out loud.

You didn’t know where you fit in the bed that night, holding your pillow rather than Mat because he was taking too long in the shower. He never did that before, on any other date night you would immediately go to bed together, cuddling or more. Mat rarely took more showers than he needed unless he had something heavy on his mind, and he certainly never took that long in them.

You were half asleep when Mat slid into the bed behind you, burning hot from the water as he wrapped himself around your body to spoon you. You naturally relaxed against him, the tension you didn’t realise you were holding in your shoulders disappearing when he left a kiss on the back of your head.

“You know I love you, yeah?” Mat snuggled closer and made sure you were both comfortable under the covers.

“I love you too, so much,” You grasped his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips to kiss his knuckles.

As silence filled the room your hearts still beat together, soft thumps lulling you into a peaceful sleep. There were things to talk about, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Mat knew that no matter what, you’d forever be his home.

4.

“It’s just a week,” Mat told you as he put his bags by the door, Tito was already on his way to pick him up, it was only a matter of minutes now.

“Yeah,” You tried to smile weakly, but he didn’t make the same effort.

“Can we talk about whatever the hell is going on with us?” He forced himself to bring it up now. He didn’t want to come back and pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t, some issues needed to be addressed before he left.

He knew that when he came back you’d both fall back into each other, blaming this week of distance for everything that was wrong, but there was more to it.

“I feel like we’re falling apart, Mat,” You voiced the fears that had been in your mind for weeks. “I just… I don’t know. I should be excited you’re going to play, or sad you won’t be home, but things have been so empty lately,”

“It feels like it won’t even change anything,” He nodded, glancing down at his feet. You were both weirdly calm about starting this conversation, days of apathy towards each other leading you to feeling numb.

“But that used to be a good thing, it didn’t matter that you were home or away, we were always fine when we talked,” You didn’t understand how or when things shifted. Mat had always been your safety, your person. You could talk easily and feel close no matter how much time you spent apart, so how was it that you were never close even when he was home lately?

“We don’t talk though,” He pointed out, making you frown although you knew what he meant.

“We do,”

“You know it’s not the same,” He shook his head a little, biting his lip to bite back tears as he thought of a way to tell you what he needed without hurting you.

He couldn’t find one.

“But-“ You didn’t want to acknowledge how wrong things were. It was still okay, there were no big fights, things could all be fixed.

“Please don’t,” His voice was soft, apologetic for the words that were about to come out. “This isn’t working the way it used to,”

“It still works, I love you,” You couldn’t look away from his eyes, and Mat tried his best not to stare at the floor or somewhere else in the room. He could see the pieces of your heart falling apart one by one, and it was all his fault.

“I love you too, that will never change but… we can’t keep on going on like this,”

“Maty please,” Your voice cracked and your heart rate picked up from the panic that took over your body. His words had never scared you more than they did right this second.

“I’m sorry, you know I don’t want this anymore than you do,” His chest tightened, it killed him to see you like this. There was nothing he wanted more than to hug you, but it wouldn’t fix anything.

“Then don’t do it,” You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks, barely bothering to wipe them away.

“I’ll be gone for a week, and I think it might be good for us to get a break,” He tried to soften the blow as well as he could. “Maybe we can just think about this for a bit rather than try to talk or whatever, and we can… we can have a conversation when I get back,”

“So what? We’re just going to ignore each other for a week until you come home and tell me you want to break up with me?” You took a step back when he tried to reach for your hand. The look of hurt that finally became obvious on his face was nothing compared to how much of a mess you already were.

“I don’t want to break up with you,”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re very sure about that,” Your chest shook with a single sob, forcing you to bite down on the inside of your cheeks.

His silence told you everything you needed to know.

It was suffocating.

Your eyes searched his for a sign that he still wanted you, but they lacked the spark they used to have whenever he looked at you.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” He eventually spoke up, his voice soft, like he was afraid anything he said could break you.

“I don’t want that either,” You were too shocked to say anything, the weight of his silence still hanging in the air.

“So let’s talk when I get back, okay?” He concluded before you could process anything else, completely numb and frozen on the spot.

“Okay,” You vaguely felt his lips brush over your forehead, and a second later the front door was falling shut behind him.

.

Calling in sick to work was your only option.

You could barely drag yourself out of your bed, let alone take a shower, get dressed and head to the office.

You didn’t receive a single text from Mat, not even when his flight landed. He always told you he had arrived safely. Always. Checking your phone for what felt the millionth time since you woke up made you sigh. The screen was still blank apart from a couple of notifications from your friends trying to make sure you were okay.

You weren’t, but they knew that already. They’d understand if you took ages to reply, so you kept on ignoring them as you buried your face in Mat’s pillow and shed some more tears.

How could he do this? How could he leave for a whole week and never want to talk to you? You were struggling not to call him with every second that passed, it consumed every bit of energy in your body, so how was he having fun with his friends and playing games at his best while you couldn’t even bring yourself to eat?

The only answer that came to you was something you never thought you would ever consider.

Mat didn’t love you anymore.

.

He fidgeted with his phone on the way back from the airport, wondering if you remembered what time he was supposed to land. He hoped you did, because he still didn’t text you. He had gotten plenty of time to himself, too much of it even, and if it wasn’t for the team keeping him busy he would have never made it through so many days of not talking to you.

He had made up his mind. It was easy once he was out of the apartment, all he had to do was imagine himself coming home. The only thing he wanted when he pictured that was you, and it told him everything he needed to know. No matter what was wrong lately, there was a way to make it better. You were the love of his life and he’d never give up.

Now all he had to do was come back to you and fix it.

“I’m back,” He called out after closing the door behind himself, leaving his bags down and listening carefully to see if you were home. You were always there to greet him, surely you had to be there.

You came into view a second later, dressed in leggings and an old concert t-shirt that was so worn out the band logo on it was almost gone. Your hair was messily pulled back, but the thing that hurt Mat the most was the look on your face.

He had seen you in plenty of messy, lazy outfits, but you were still always smiling. This was different. The bags under your eyes told him you hadn’t been sleeping, and you were so pale he worried you’d pass out right there in front of him.

His heart almost stopped knowing he caused this. He was the reason for your pain, and he needed to fix it.

“Can I hug you?” Mat stepped forward hesitantly, but you moved back and shook your head, tears already brimming in your eyes.

“I love you so much Mathew,” You wrapped your arms around yourself, not knowing where to start but with the way you felt.

“Hey, don’t-” He felt himself crumble at your broken tone. How could he have done this to you? How could he have left you thinking he’d ever want to break up with you?

“No, stop,” You sniffled, trying your hardest not to break into sobs. You had prepared yourself to say this in your head, but you couldn’t realise how much harder it would be once you were facing him. “I just- I don’t get where you stopped loving me,”

“I didn’t,” He replied instantly, his eyes widening and his heart sinking in his chest.

“That’s not true,”

“Why are you saying that?”

“Because this week has been the worst week of my life,” You clenched your fist so tightly your nails dug into your palm. The pain was grounding, it was always better than acknowledging the ache in your chest. “And you just went about it like it was fine,”

“I just needed some time to think,” The guilt was so overwhelming he felt sick in his stomach. You had never doubted his feelings for you before, he was always good at reassuring you, but he had ruined years of trust before leaving.

“I don’t need time to know how much I love you,”

“Love isn’t all you need to keep a relationship going,”

“Well, it sure as hell can’t keep going when you don’t have at least that,” You bit your tongue as you hinted to where this conversation was going.

It was the only way to make it right. If Mathew didn’t love you anymore you had to let him go.

“You don’t want this anymore,” His shoulders dropped and he had to catch himself against the door, ready to collapse. Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision.

“This is all I want. You’re all I want, but I can’t have that if you don’t want it as much as I do,”

“I don’t want to be without you,” He wiped his cheeks repeatedly, annoyed at the flood but unable to stop it. His voice trembled as he continued, short quick breaths making his chest shake. “I’m sorry I left like this, but we can work on this- I- I just got home… Just let me make this right,” He couldn’t bear the thought of being alone here, without you. You gave the place life, you gave him life. He had no home if he wasn’t with you, he couldn’t let you go like this.

“Mat… I’d go to the end of the world for you, I don’t even think you realise… I- it’s been so hard for me, I’ve had to keep up and deal with so much,” You couldn’t even begin to count the reasons you shouldn’t have gotten together in the first place, and Mat knew it too. There was a lot to sort out on both sides, but you had decided to ignore it all together to make it work no matter what.  “It was all worth it to be with you, and I’d do it a million times again, but I’m not strong enough to do this if you can’t love me the way I love you,”

“I do love you,” He needed to repeat it a million times again, but you wouldn’t listen. Mat lip trembled as he thought he couldn’t even hold you to make it better.

“Not in the same way,”

“Don’t do this please,” He begged, knowing where he messed up but refusing to let it happen so easily. “How- how can you think I don’t love you?” He choked on his words. “After everything, I- I just-”

“You said it yourself, this isn’t working the way it used to,” The way you reused his words made him feel like you were stabbing him straight in the heart. This was all his fault, so why was there nothing he could say to make you believe he loved you?

“So we’re not even to try and talk about how we can fix it? I didn’t need to think about my feelings for you when I was away, I’ve always loved you, I love you, I-”

“There’s no way to fix this, look at us!” You interrupted and motioned between the two of you, the space that was there was unnatural. It was the first time he made it through the door and didn’t immediately cross the distance to hug you.

“I can’t lose you,”

“I’m sorry Mathew, I’ll… I’ll come get my stuff over the weekend,” You had already made plans to sleep somewhere else, but you didn’t have the heart to pack before he made it home.

“No,” He stayed in front of the door, shaking his head vehemently and clenching his jaw while you took a step closer to the exit. “You can’t do that!” His voice boomed through the apartment. You shrunk on yourself before he even realised what he had done. “Baby no,” His eyes widened in panic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice, I’m sorry,” He repeated, watching the tears flood your cheeks.

He left without reassuring you he still loved you, he let you think he wanted to break up with you, and just as he tried to fix it, he managed to break the most important promise he ever made to you.

“Let me go,” You sniffled, waiting for him to move.

Mat could do nothing but step aside.

+1.

Empty.

It was a fitting word for both the apartment and Mat.

He should have been happy to be home, but this place wasn’t it. He thought it would be for some time, but nowhere would ever feel like home unless you were there.

Dealing with you leaving had turned him into a wreck, so for some time Tito told him he should come live with him. It helped a little, he wasn’t as lonely and it stopped him from getting in his head.

He knew he’d have to come back eventually, Tito had his own life and Mat couldn’t constantly be in the middle of it.

Everything he was normally happy to find was missing. The plant on his coffee table was dead from the lack of water, and he thought it was a pretty good representation of how things were going for him lately.

He didn’t get to come home to you, he didn’t get a hug, he didn’t feel his heart flutter at the softness of your voice when you said you missed him, he didn’t feel your warmth or take in the sweet scent of your perfume.

Dropping his bags in the bedroom was torture.

The closet was open, showing off the empty half he couldn’t bring himself to start using. He remembered how he used to joke about being annoyed his shirts always ended up in your pile because you wore them so much.

The apartment was dead silent, it left plenty of room for Mat’s thoughts to take over his mind.

He missed you like hell. Every time he thought he was over it he turned around and got reminded of you by the smallest thing. Finding a hair tie under his bed felt like a slap in the face, a painful reminder of what used to be. Mat knew it probably ended up there after he took it out of your hair one night because he liked running his fingers through it as you both fell asleep, and his thoughts then moved on to the bed itself.

He could barely look at it, let alone sleep in it. The bedsheets no longer smelled like you although he still used the fabric softener you liked, your pillow remained untouched now that he was done crying into it, and Mat had to clench his jaw to keep tears at bay as he moved to the living room.

The soft red blanket you had bought to bring colour to the place was still on the couch. He slept with it when you left, and his pillow was still resting against the armrest. He almost considered moving for a moment, there were plenty of places to live in New York, he didn’t need to keep this apartment if he couldn’t even deal with standing in the bedroom anymore.

He knew it might help, but it wouldn’t fix anything. He’d have less reminders but just as many thoughts.

He’d never find a home without you.

.

I’m not 100% happy with how this one turned out but I don’t have a lot more energy to give it so I’m posting it anyway. Hope it was still okay to read for you guys, comments and feedback are always much appreciated.

Please reblog!

[crystaljins]

River lead me home | 09 FINAL

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 5k

Synopsis:  Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: Ahhh. We’re finally here. At the ending. 

I feel like so much happened since I started writing this fic. I’ve been through so many ups and downs, and so have my characters. And you guys are probably the same; I wonder what adventures you guys went on as I posted this? I hope they were fun ones. 

Anyway, thank you for sticking around for this long journey home. I hope you enjoy the final chapter, and I hope you enjoyed following these guys on their adventure. 

Till next time, my loves.

Tags: @blue1928​ @veeparkersstuff

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

It’s a long journey home. The three of you stay with the mice long enough to see the first of the recovered victims poke their little noses out of their burrows. The mayor, a harried, round little mouse with hay coloured fur and absurdly long whiskers, cannot express his gratitude deeply enough, other than to procure the three of you a comfortable stay in a nearby inn. 

The journey back is only slightly less fraught with danger. The Saishtas think the two of you are dead, and not long after you part ways with the mice, new begins to circulate in the local areas that the might, evil Saishta queen has died and that her kingdom has fallen into disarray. You come across one or two of the insidious lizardpeoples after that but none of them approach or acknowledge you. Why bother, when they failed to save their queen?

After hearing that news, it’s more of a relaxed journey. You all head on from town to town, purchasing supplies and another bed roll for Jungkook. Jin is strangely eager to spend what little currency you have on the most comfortable bedroll he can find, and when Jungkook suggests he just continues to share in the interest of saving funds, Jin nearly has an aneurysm. 

Jin’s behaviour is probably the strangest part of the journey. He’s not cold or standoffish like he normally is when having a crisis, but he’s definitely gentler. More reserved but also warmer. It’s not unwelcome. In fact, you can’t help but wonder. If the war had never come, would this be the life you had with Jin? Endless adventures amongst the thrilling dangers of your home realm? 

You bring the thought up to Jin and Jungkook one night, while the three of you huddle together over a fire, snacking on some of the dried meats you’d purchased from the last town. 

Jin looks surprised at the thought. 

“I’ve always thought it would be you and Taehyung going on the big adventures.” He points out. “The two of you were never able to hold still, even for a moment.” His smile is warm and fond as he recalls your childhood. 

“You’d have been dragged along.” Jungkook counters through a particularly chewy mouthful. “You’d probably be married to (Y/N) and forced to follow her around keep her out of trouble.”

Oddly, you expect Jin to flush, or protest, or attempt to strangle Jungkook. You certainly feel a bit flushed at the thought. But Jin is unfazed- he merely offers a secretive smile and tilts his head curiously at you. You couldn’t decipher the look if you tried, but it has your throat feeling tight. 

You change the conversation topic after that, but it’s not the only way that Jin has changed. A few days later, the three of you are attempting to cross a little slippery creek when you lose your footing. 

You stumble over a few rocks and land on your hands and knees. Even in the deepest part of the creek it only comes up to your mid-thighs when you are on all fours. 

Jin skids to a stop beside you, crouching before you in the water. He doesn’t seem to care about the way his clothes become soaked. 

“Are you hurt?” He demands. You take stock of your injuries- a scraped knee, a bruised shin, the palms of your hands rubbed raw. Nothing that won’t be gone in an hour or two. 

“I’m fine.” You reassure him. 

He nods awkwardly for a moment and then offers “I could kiss it better?”

It takes you a few blinks to comprehend his words, and even then, it makes you re-evaluate the severity of your injuries. 

“What?” You demand, shocked. He shrugs and looks away. 

“Like when we were kids. I could kiss it better. You used to always refuse to stop crying until I kissed you. We could try that again.” He offers nonchalantly. You must have hit your head. It’s the only explanation. You can only stare, your mouth dropped into an “o”. 

“I guess that’s a no.” Jin finally says, oddly sulky in the way he says it. “Just thought I’d offer.”

You wish you could say that it’s the strangest of his behaviour, but it’s not. The rest of the journey goes like that- if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jin was flirting. Albeit, in a weirdly awkward, tentative way. Even Jungkook notices it. 

“Do you think he’s finally gone mad? Maybe the extreme social media detox has made all his brain cells shrivel up and die.” Jungkook whispers conspiratorially one night while the two of you wonder a small village that is throwing a little festival. Colourful lanterns line the streets and the various creatures that inhabit the village are dressed in bright colours. Jin had decided to stay back at the inn but the two of you had wanted to explore. 

“It’s the only logical explanation.” You concede, as much as it physically pains you to agree with Jungkook in anything. 

“All I have to say is, if this is how he flirts I have no idea how he gets so many dates.” Jungkook laments, and your eyes widen. 

“Stop.” You laugh. “He’s not flirting. It’s Jin. He thinks of me like an unwanted houseplant.”

“What if he didn’t, though?” Jungkook asks suddenly. His gaze is probing, and the mood is oddly serious for what you thought was a joking conversation. 

“What?” You ask, caught off-guard. 

“What if he’s actually flirting? Hypothetically. What would you do?” He questions. 

You go silent, as you contemplate your answer. Honestly, you’re not stupid enough to entertain the thought of Jin liking you back. But something about Jungkook’s earnestness has you genuinely considering it. 

“I don’t know.” You finally admit. You sigh, suddenly feeling tired. 

“Can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks, tentative and almost gentle. He tilts his head curiously. “Do you like him?”

The question startles you. It feels like it’s been so long since you came to term with your feelings that you forgot not everyone else was aware of your revelation. Honestly, even to yourself it had filtered to the back of your mind. An unchanging fact, rarely acknowledged. The sky is blue. Jungkook is annoying. You are in love with Kim Seokjin. 

“I do.” You finally admit. You’re reaching the end of the street where most of the festivities are taking place- the crowd is thinning and more distance separates each lantern. 

“Then, if he were flirting... wouldn’t the answer be that you’d date him?” Jungkook asks. He’s pulling a face like he’s working out a rather complex maths problem. “Why don’t you know what you’d do?” 

The two of you settle at the end of the street. Roughly hewn chairs are scattered randomly across the little square. In the corner, a large, greyish being snoozes, and a small group of little humanoid trees laugh over something and chatter in a foreign language. 

“I feel like there’s too much to sort out first. Like... to date him I’d have to be better. I’d have to have a job. And I’d have to have apologised to my mother. I’d need to stop spongeing off the people around me. And maybe live out of home. Be a proper, human adult.” You list. “The me that I am now... I couldn’t date Jin. I’m not... I’m not...”

“Good enough?” Jungkook finishes the words gently. There’s a sad look in his eyes, and it surprises you. 

You nod. 

“Yeah.” You admit, and your voice is oddly choked. It’s weird- you had thought you were at peace with your feelings. You were meant to be happy with whatever scraps of affection Jin threw your way. But you’re not- there’s a deep, miserable ache in your chest that won’t go away. 

Jungkook uses his sleeves to dab at the tears you didn’t even know were slipping down your cheeks. 

“For what it’s worth,” Jungkook offers. “Jin doesn’t actually care about that stuff. The only reason he makes a big deal out of it is because he thinks you’ll be happy if all that stuff works out.” He tells you. “And hey. Someone once told me that the best things are the scariest to start- maybe this is one of those times?”

After that, you call it a night, and Jungkook doesn’t bring the topic up again. But you can’t forget his words. The closer to the portal the three of you draw, the more the ache in your chest grows; the closer you get to going back to normal life. What happens to you and Jin when you step back into the human realm? 

What if Jungkook’s words are true? Would you... would you have to return to normal? Could you have more? Is it stupid that a part of your stupid, traitorous heart longed for it to be true with each new step towards home?

There’s a surefire way to find out; if you ask him. But you can’t. The words die in your throat every time you even consider it. You remember how he freaked out when Jungkook suggested it earlier on the trip. He likely already knows your feelings despite your denial, and it is only your constant denial otherwise that allows the two of you to exist in this strange limbo. If you stopped denying them, he’d have to address those feelings and then what? It would be back to square one- the avoidance and awkwardness as you cling to the shambles of your friendship.

You can’t go back to that- you’ve fought so hard to fix what is between you, to salvage things. Would it be worth risking it, just in the hopes that you and Jin could be more?

The night before you reach the portal, all the nerves and worries you have build up to the point that you find yourself gazing up listlessly at the canopy overhead. The branches interlace and you can perk glimpses of the stars beyond. This is the last glimpse you will get of these stars. You have already decided you won’t come back here. It’s time to stop looking back and only look forward. 

Yet, despite your resolve, despite everything, sleep evades you. Tomorrow, real life awaits. An existential sort of dread has gripped you.

With a sigh, you sit up. To your right, Jungkook has curled into a tight ball as he peacefully rests. But to your surprise, Jin’s bedroll is empty. You’re surprised you didn’t hear him move. 

It doesn’t take long to locate him. Only a short distance away, where the vegetation is a bit lighter and a clear patch of sky shimmers overhead, Jin lounges peacefully. He gazes thoughtfully up at the sky overhead as the starlight gilds his face in breathtaking silver. 

Wordlessly, you step towards him. A twig snaps beneath your feet and Jin whirls around in surprise. When he spots you, he smiles and gentle pats the open space beside him. 

Awkwardly, you settle beside him, hugging your knees to your chest. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” He questions, his eyes closed serenely. The soft sound of wind and distant sounds of wildlife filters through the night air. 

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice heavy with a sigh. He blinks open one eye to peer curiously at you. It’s the most relaxed and open you’ve seen him in a long time. “What about you? You couldn’t sleep either?” 

Jin shrugs. 

“I could have.” He informs you. “But I thought I’d enjoy my last night in this realm instead.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. Jin has made it clear throughout the trip that this journey has been anything but enjoyable. 

“Enjoy?” You say, only slightly incredulous. He nods and opens both eyes to stare up the sky. 

“I’m as shocked as you.” He concedes. “This place has only ever meant bad things to me. It’s why I could never understand your fixation with it.” 

You grimace.

“I kind of get it now, though.” He admits, before you can complain to him. “It’s a pretty beautiful place.” 

“What changed your mind?” You ask, your curiosity piqued. Jin shrugs. 

“You did.” He answers simply. 

“M-me?” You’re not sure why you stutter; perhaps it is the strange look to his eyes as he turns fully to face you. He pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his cheek against them, watching you lazily. 

“Yup.” He says, as if it’s the easiest confession in the world. “When I used to think about this place, all I could think about was the night we fled. My dad didn’t even time to wash the blood off his hands. He grabbed me by the wrist and held on so tight I had bruises. I didn’t want to remember that. I didn’t want to remember the place that had caused us so much pain. And you... you were such a shell. I felt like one of my best friends had died in this realm and I was so angry at what it had taken from me.” His gaze is distant with recollection. “And then I was mad at you, because you couldn’t forget no matter what I did.” He gazes at you. “But now it’s finally given me something.”

You’re startled, by his heartfelt words. You’ve always known Jin hated this realm, hated the way the beings of this realm had driven you all out. But you didn’t know you had such a huge role in his opinion of it. “You.” He finishes. “So I guess I can’t really hate this place after all.”

You’re struck speechless in that moment, and your heart swells with an overwhelming feeling. You already know you love the man before you, but in that moment, you’re shocked at just how much. A feeling bubbles up at the base of your chest- your heart feels fit to burst. 

“What do you mean?” You ask- is this feeling hope? What does Jin mean, when he says the realm gave him you?

Jin merely shrugs. 

“I’ll let you speculate.” He tells you, shooting you a coy smile, an oddly cheeky look that he’s given to his friends before but never to you. But then his expression shifts into something more serious. “I think there are more pressing things to discuss first, though. Like why you’re sitting here with me instead of sleeping?”

The warm feeling from earlier instantly evaporates as you recall the reason for your melancholy. 

“I guess I’m just nervous.” You confess. “About going home. I’ve... I’ve really enjoyed this trip. And I’m excited to go home. But I’m just so...” you struggle to find the word. “So...”

“Nervous?” Jin suggests. He shuffles so he’s just a bit closer. His shoulder brushes yours- if you extended your neck, you could rest your head against his broad shoulders. A strange electricity buzzes through your body at the thought- it reminds you of your fight over the fungus a few days ago. The air had felt strangely charged then as well. 

“Yeah.” You admit, swallowing past a dry throat. “There’s a lot to do, back home.”

“Back home?” Jin echoes, and then his smile turns warm. His mouth carefully forms the word “home” and his eyes wrinkle into two joyous crescent moon shapes. “I guess there is.” He acknowledges. “But you’ve already made the first step. You’re calling the human realm home.”

That startles you. Obviously, it is your home. But you hadn’t realised how instinctive that had become until this moment; at some point the human realm had stopped being that uncomfortable alien place, and had become the place you’re meant to go back to. Home. Jin watches you process the words carefully before he speaks again. 

“You don’t have to be nervous.” He tells you softly. The tone to his voice is oddly vulnerable and delicate. Something delicate hovers between you like the flutter of a pixie’s wing. “You said you wanted to work things out together, right? So, you don’t have to be nervous because I’ll be there with you.”

He looks away and his expression is surprisingly shy. “I know you said I don’t have to be the guy with it all worked out, but I still want to try. It makes me happy. Being there for you. So even if you’re nervous... we’ll work it out together, right?”

It is that exact moment that you figure it out. Earlier, you had been uneasy at Jungkook’s line of questioning. You didn’t feel worthy of Jin’s love and affection, and that made you afraid. Because you couldn’t bear to lose him. You still can’t bear to lose him. But gazing into the warm eyes before you, you know you won’t ever lose him. The two of you have braved death together- you’ll make it through anything. 

You feel lighter then, and you offer Jin a smile. 

“Thank you.” You whisper. Jin smiles back. 

“Any time.” He whispers back to you in answer. 

Sleep comes easily after that, and so too does the end of your journey. All too soon you stand before the portal back home. 

The trip feels like it’s taken a thousand years and no time at all at the same time. By your calculation, the entire journey has taken almost a month, with all the detours and misadventures. That means almost six hours have passed in the human realm. Jin has almost definitely missed his dinner plans, and your mother is probably starting to wonder why you aren’t home yet. 

“What will you do, when you go back?” Jin asks. Jungkook has already stepped through and you’re surprised that Jin is making conversation now, of all times. 

“Apologise to my mother.” You say easily. “What about you?”

“I’m going to save my snapchat streaks and apologise to Joon.” Jin shares. He’s nervously twisting his fingers together. The energy he gives off is like an uneasy teenager about to do a huge public speech. It’s a big contrast from the person her was last night. Like he’s bracing himself for something. 

You thought you’d be bracing yourself too. On the other side is hard work and futile dreams and a bleary, dull city. 

But on the other side is your mother, your friends, your family. Your evil cat waits for you on the other side; the life your father dreamed of for you is on the other side. You had thought that so much in your life is wrong, and now that the portal is here, you realise that it’s not. It’s just life. Things go wrong and things go right. Like the path of a river, cutting through the vast, unknown wilderness. You had been thinking of it this whole time like you’d flip a switch and things would be easy. But that’s not what it’s going to be like on the other side of this portal, and it’s not really what you want things to be like. It’s an adventure of a different kind. 

And it’s an adventure that you want to share... with Jin. 

You remember what Jungkook had said- the best things in life are the scariest to start. And you’re scared now. No, you’re terrified. But if you’re this scared, then you know that this moment is going to be huge. Life-changing. You can’t keep the words in a moment longer. You don’t want to. You’ve spent too long running and fearing and hesitating and overthinking. But you’re confident, that the two of you will survive this even if he doesn’t feel the same way, and you’re ready to take that risk.

The river loves those who take the plunge.

“Jin,” you call, and you thought that if you ever did this that you’d be lost for words. But you’re not. Because you’re finally ready. Last night had solidified that for you. The words come easily. “You remember how you said that I look at you a certain way?”

You turn and face him, and he looks bewildered. 

“Like you’re my hero.” You recall. And then you steel yourself and meet his gaze. It’s the same eyes you’ve known all your life. The same eyes you want to look into for the remainder of your life. “It’s because you are my hero. No, actually, it’s more than that.” You assert, and he just stares, completely dumbstruck. “I look at you like that because I love you. Because I admire you and think you’re strong and brave and kind, and even if you’re not the guy who has it all together, I still feel the same way. And I lied when I said I just wanted you to be my friend. I thought it was enough, but it’s not- I want to be your partner. I want to be your best friend. I want to be your girlfriend.” You say. And then you summon all the exciting fluttering feels in your chest and let it pour into your smile. “I love you, Kim Seokjin.” 

Before you stands something you never thought you’d see. Kim Seokjin, the mastermind behind the Jant, is completely speechless. And then slowly, very slowly, he opens his mouth to give a response. 

“Are you dead?” Jungkook demands as the upper half of his body appears once more through the portal. “It’s been like 30 seconds in that realm which is approximately ten years in this realm if my maths is correct!”

You spring back from Jin. You’re startled at how far you have to step back- had you really been standing that close? 

“R-right.” You stutter. You feel like you’ve been caught cheating on a diet or something equally scandalous. “We’re coming.”

Jin just looks annoyed. 

“No we’re not. Give us a minute.” He snaps at Jungkook, placing a palm against Jungkook’s head and shoving him back through the portal none-too-gently. He then turns urgently back to you. “What did you just say?” He demands. His intensity has you cowering slightly- your bravado from earlier leaves you. 

“I said “we’re coming”?” You recall, attempting to divert the topic, but Jin steps closer. 

“No you didn’t. You said you love me. And that you want to be my girlfriend.” He accuses. 

“If you knew, why did you ask me?” You grumble. And then your expression softens. “But yes. I did say that. And it’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I know you could have any girl you want and I won’t be mad if you want someone else.” You reassure him quickly. He just stares, offering you no indication of whether he’d processed your words. It’s uncomfortable, but you suppose your words were going to be uncomfortable. You’re changing the very nature of your relationship by voicing them aloud. “But if you were willing... maybe you could give me a chance?” You trail away. 

Still, Jin just continues to look at you blankly. He looks like he’s a robot that just encountered a programming error. Hesitantly, you reach out to tap his shoulder, just to make sure he hasn’t died or suddenly been transformed into stone. 

A hand shoots up. It grabs your wrist, halting its movements. Jin’s eyes bug out of his head. 

“YOU’RE TELLING ME NOW?” He all but screeches. You flinch- you hadn’t anticipated a jant in response to your confession. “YOU HAD THE WHOLE TRIP TO SAY YOUR FEELINGS AND YOU SAY IT NOW? YOU COULDN’T HAVE WAITED ONE DAY?”

His nostrils flare as he releases your wrist so that he can point accusingly at you. 

“You had all your chances! You could have said it on the way to the forest spirit! Or when the Saishtas were chasing us! Or when we landed in the ravine! You’ve had literally the whole trip and you wait until right before I’m going to confess?” He spits out in that rapid-fire way that you’ve never seen another person be able to replicate. 

And then you process his words. 

“Wait-“ you say, hoping to abort the jant so that you have enough time to comprehend what he’s saying. 

It’s no use. 

“Seriously! I had a whole plan, (Y/N)! We were going to go to dinner and I was going to buy you flowers and I was going to ease you into it! But no! You just had to beat me to it, and for what? For what? So that you can make a half-assed confession right before we step into an alley next to a brothel?” He laments. 

“It’s not half-assed-“ you protest, because you’d poured your heart out to Jin. 

He steps in menacingly. 

“Take it back.” He demands. Your eyes widen. 

“What?” You cry, defensively. To your credit, you only cower a little which is an impressive feat for someone on the receiving end of a jant. 

“Your confession! Take it back!” He orders. 

“No!” You argue back. “I’m not going to do that.”

“You are!” Jin counters. “You’re going to take it back and we’re going to do it properly, over dinner, and you’re going to have washed hair and I’m going to-“

You don’t let him finish whatever stupid thoughts were filtering through his brain. If he wants a proper, romantic confession, then he’s going to get one! You hear a sharp intake of breath from him as your lips press to his. They’re slightly chapped after such a long period of rough travel, but the sensation is still pleasant. Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel like you’re about to burst. 

It takes Jin a moment to respond. But when he does, it’s with an intensity that is almost frightening. You’re startled by the way he pulls you close. It’s like the electricity from last night, but multiplied a hundred-fold. If you thought your heart was ready to burst before, it is nothing compared to the way molten lava fills your chest when his hands come up to gently cradle your face and deepen the kiss.

When you finally recall that oxygen is something you need, Jin pulls away and searches your gaze. His hands slide down to your waist, resting delicately along the flare of your hips. His face is bright red but his eyes are determined. 

Something about the way he is looking at you has you feeling shy. 

“That was weird, huh?” You stammer, trying to cover the way you feel so completely overwhelmed. “Sorry.” Your heart is dancing in your chest. It’s all too much for one person to feel and you’re just not really sure what to do with the sensation. Did he feel it too? This weird tension, like you’re a balloon about to pop?

Jin doesn’t break eye contact and his tongue darts out to moisten his lips. 

“Hard to say.” He finally says, breaking his long spell of silence. He then grabs at either side of your face, puckering his lips obnoxiously. “I think we need to try again to be sure.”

You barely have time to protest before he’s attempting to pull you in for a second kiss, although you slap a hand over his mouth to halt his advance. 

“Wait!” You accuse. “You can’t just kiss me and not respond to what I said!” 

“I already told you.” He snaps. “Your confession doesn’t count until we do it properly. Now if you excuse me-“ He grabs you by the elbows and tugs you back towards him, attempting to kiss you once more, but you stop him with a hand pressed to his chest. His expression turns pleading. “Just one more time.” He requests.

You swallow, and gaze into his eyes. It’s not an unfamiliar look, you realise. He’s looked at you like this before, but you now realise what the emotion was behind that look. 

“I love you.” You tell him. “I told you like this because yes. I couldn’t wait one more day. I don’t want to wait another day without you knowing. I love you.” You say one more time, just for good measure. 

His expression crumbles and he sighs in resignation, before pulling you tightly against him. His embrace is warm, and secure. It’s no different from all the other times he’s hugged you in your life, and yet nothing is the same.

“Fine.” He says, into the crook of your neck. “But I’m not saying it back until we have a proper date.” 

He pulls out of the hug and the love in his gaze is overwhelming. It’s not a confession, per se, but his intent is as clear as day. 

He loves you. You know he does.

“Deal.” You say back, and his response is his eyes crinkling up as he offers you that special smile, the one that he only shows when he’s really, truly happy. “But you’re paying.”

“How about we save any important conversations for the side of the portal where we’re not in constant mortal danger?” Jungkook demands, his head once more poking through the portal. There’s an awkward silence as he glances between the two of you, and then he groans. “Seriously? You had the entire journey to sort this out and you waited until now? You couldn’t even just leave it until after dinner?”

“Sorry!” You apologise quickly, going to follow Jungkook’s lead through the portal. But a hand wrapped around your wrist stops you- you hadn’t even noticed Jin had grabbed you. 

You turn to gaze questioningly at him, and he shrugs, shifting his hands until he can interlace his fingers with yours. 

“Wait. Let’s go together.” He requests, then pauses. “Can we?”

Something about this moment feels monumental. Huge. You’ve braved enemy encampments, crossed mountains. You’ve gone free-falling into giant ravines and overcome furious forest spirits. 

And yet this moment feels like the start to your biggest adventure yet. From this point on, real life starts. You smile at Jin and he returns it. 

“Yeah.” You say. “Let’s go together.”

Jin’s reply is covered by Jungkook’s annoyed call through the portal:

“What did I just say? Hurry up!”

                                                             ~Fin~

[sherrybaby14]

Moral of the Story

Summary:  Steve’s girl likes to party all the time and he’s at his wit’s end.  Then he meets you.

Pairing:  Steve Rogers x female reader.

Warnings:  Alcohol, Smut, ANGST

Words:  5k

A/N:  This is for the wonderful @captain-rogers-beard​ challenge. Congrats Doll!  My prompt was “Party all the Time” by Eddie Murphy.

   The music was a bit louder than you would have liked, but at least the song was catchy.   You sipped on your drink as you watched the dance floor, your friend’s waving you over.  

   With a smirk you shook your head and lifted your drink, far too sober to dance.

   “I think they want you to join them?”  A voice boomed in your ear.

   You did a jump as you turned to see a gorgeous blonde next to you.  

   “I don’t want to spill my drink.”  You ran your hands down your now wet dress.

   “Oh Jeez, I’m so sorry ma’am.”  He reached for some cocktail napkins. “Let me buy you another.”

   “It’s okay.”  You began to pat your dress dry.  “It’s probably better on my clothes than down my throat.  I don’t drink often.”

   “Me either.”  He gave a warm smile.  

   “Then why are you in a nightclub?”  You turned to the bar, trying to block out the loud music and not have to yell so much. “Here to pick up women?”

   “A friend invited me.”  His gaze went to the dance floor.

   You followed it and saw he was looking at a dark haired man.  You couldn’t see his face because it was being covered by a gorgeous brunette.  She pulled away and you blinked a few times, she had to be a model, a perfect ten.  

   “I think your friend is going to get lucky.”  You turned back to see his jaw clench up.  

   “Yeah, it looks like it.”  He looked away, there was a pain in his eyes.  “If I can’t buy you a new drink how about a cup of coffee?”  

   “Oh, I don’t think they sell coffee here.”  You shrugged.

   He erupted in laughter and you glanced around, not noticing the punch line.  

   “There’s a diner a block away.”  He leaned against the bar.  “Open twenty four hours.  I know I’m a stranger, but I could get out of here and by the looks of it so could you.”  

   “I’m game.”  You put your glass on the bar and started walking to the door.  

   “I’m Steve by the way.”  He held out his hand.  

   “I know who you are.”  You smiled.  “I think the whole world knows who you are.”  

   A confused look spread across his face.  The brisk nighttime air made your arm get some goosebumps, but you let out a sigh of relief when the music died down.  

   “That’s not the reaction I get from most people who know who I am.”  Steve grabbed his chin.  “Maybe I should grow a beard again.”  

   “Would you rather I asked for an autograph and a selfie?”  You raised an eyebrow, then put the back of your hand to your forehead.  “Oh Captain my Captain?”

   “Alright, I get it.”  Steve laughed.  “So what’s your story?  I guess your the one whose the stranger here.”

   “It’s not like I know everything about you, just the headlines.”  You winked.  “Workaholic, I love my job, it keeps me busy.  In my free time I do the basics,  read, watch movies, attempt and fail at the newest workout craze.”  

   “Pilates man.”  Steve pulled the diner door open.  “It’s a lot harder than it looks.”

   “I fall in every yoga position.”  You followed Steve as he slid into a booth.  “Zumba was fun, but I’m lacking in rhythm.”  

   “You?”  Steve’s eyes went wide.  “You look like you would be a great dancer.”

   “I’m great at a lot of things.”  You flipped over your mug.  “But bad at more.”  

   “I’m really bad at board games.  I flipped the board last time I played Monopoly.”  Steve leaned back in the booth.  “But I am amazing at tic-tac-toe.”  

   “Oh yeah?”  You reached in your purse and pulled out a pen, drawing the lines on a napkin.  “Prove it?”

~~

“Even with all this coffee and stimulating conversation.”  You brought your hand to your mouth to stifle the yawn.  “Exhaustion is setting in.  I’ve got to get to bed.”

“How far do you live from here?”  Steve reached for his wallet.  “It’s almost 4 am.  Can I walk you home?”  

“Four am?”  You hadn’t checked your phone since you told your friends you were safe after vanishing, that was five hours ago.  

Sure enough the device read 3:56.  

“Damn.”  You grabbed a menu.  “Might as well order breakfast then.”  

Steve looked shocked, but then nodded in agreement, not pulling a menu. The server took notice and came over.  

“I’ll have a meat lovers skillet, side of country gravy, sub American cheese, eggs over easy, wheat toast?”  You but the menu back.  

“I’ll have the same.”  Steve leaned forward.

“Really?” The waitress was confused. “Not the usual?”

“I’m being adventurous tonight.”  Steve winked.  

“Okay.”  She walked away.

“I like the way you know what you want.”  Steve leaned back.  “Kind of no nonsense.  It’s refreshing.”  

“I wouldn’t say that.”  You laughed.  “Maybe when it comes to diner food at 4 am.  I’ve been eating my whole life after all.”  

“So why isn’t there anyone special in your life?”  Steve almost seemed fidgety.  

“There’s lots of special people in my life.”  You smiled.  “I’m very close with my parents, my siblings, have some great friends I’d call family, my coworkers are amazing too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  Steve’s eyes showed a strange wave of vulnerability.  

“No reason.”  You wished you had a better answer.  “I’ve dated plenty, had some serious partners, some not so serious.  I guess I’m picky? What about you?”

“The friend who invited me to the club tonight, it was the girl.”  Steve gave a pressed smile.  “We were very serious, she broke it off about two months ago.  Wanted to try being friends.  I agreed to give it a go.  I don’t see how it’s going to work.”  

The perfect 10 brunette.  Your heart started to ache for the man.  He was heartbroken.  It was all over his face, body language.  Everything clicked.  

“What a bitch.”  You brought your hand to your mouth and looked at him with wide eyes.  

He laughed and you relaxed.

“There you go, being honest and direct again.”  Steve put his elbows on the table.  “I don’t think people can be friends with exes.  It’s not in the cards.”  

“I’ve never tried.”  You were more of the it’s done it’s done type.  “My philosophy is look forward.  The future.  Thinking about the past, it’s a dangerous trap.”  

“I’m starting to think the same thing.”  Steve’s eyes lit up.  “She is a big party girl, I mean, she’s a model so sometimes its a networking thing.  But I never really fit into her life.”  

“Wait, were you guys like a tabloid couple?”  You tilted your head. “Can I read all about your breakup on instagram?”  

“No!” Steve rolled his eyes.  “That was part of the problem.  I think she wanted that.  Being with me could elevate her career and it made me feel used, so I wouldn’t allow public photos. There’s a few that leaked, but nothing confirming our relationship.”

“Wow, you celebrities are a different breed.”  It never once crossed your mind to post about who you were having coffee with.

“I am not a celebrity.”  Steve wagged a finger at you.  

“Oh I’m sorry.”  You brought your hand to your chest.  “Historical figure.”

Steve cracked up.  His laugh was infectious and you joined, chuckling away.  

“Without being too forward young lady,” Steve reached out and grabbed your hand, sparks shooting down your arm.  “Could I have your telephone number?”  

You knew he was bating you for a joke.  But you preferred the natural type.  

“Yes.”  You reached for your phone, breaking the hand touch.  “You can have my number.”

~~

Noon hit and you forced yourself out of bed, six hours of sleep was doable.  You began to make your mental checklist of projects for the day while you brushed your teeth.  

There was a giddy ness in the back of your mind over last night.  He was a cool guy and it was a fun time.  Your brain started to think about work.  You had to call your parents and check in, probably explain to your friends about where you went, you would leave out the Captain America angle.  

You grabbed your phone and your jaw about hit the floor.  There was a text from Steve already.  

Are you going to say good morning?  

You didn’t think you would hear from him for at least a few days.  It made you smile and wiggle as you sat on the bed.  

Good morning!  Or afternoon?  

Before you set the device down the reply bubbles started to form.   You parted ways seven hours ago.  It was a Saturday.  This was unexpected.   The bubbles disappeared and then reappeared several times.   You were on the edge of your seat.  

Then your phone started to vibrate.  You almost threw the thing, seeing Steve’s name pop up. Instead your smile grew as you slid it to answer.

“Was good afternoon not appropriate?  Technically it’s 12:15, that is literally after noon.”  You tried to stifle the excitement.

“You want to have a beer with me tonight?”  Steve’s voice was just as sexy over the phone.  “I would say dinner, but I know you had some things to take care of.  There’s this sports bar I love,  I promise I won’t spill anything on you and coffee keeps us up too late.”  

“I’d love to.”  You didn’t see a point in trying to act coy.  

“Great, nine o’clock?  I’ll text you the address.”  Steve’s smile carried over the phone.  

“Sounds like a plan.”  You ran your hand over your hair and wondered if you could get away without washing it.  

“Have a great day.  I”ll see you tonight.”  

“Bye.”  You clicked off the phone and did a little happy dance.  

You didn’t see that one coming.  

Your phone lit up with Steve’s message right away.  You sent a thumbs up emoji.  To your surprise, Steve responded:

Emojis, it’s like hyrogliphics are coming back?  Why did we skip the sonnets?

You didn’t even think before responding.

You: Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s Day?  Thou art more lovely and temperate.  

Steve: Sonnet 18, one of the greats.

You: I stole it from Clueless.  

Steve: What’s Clueless?

~~

You woke the next morning, at your normal 8 am.  Even more thrilled with the date from the night before.   It was fun.  It was a fantastic time.  Of course the texting all day long made the conversation flow right to person-to-person.  

“I can’t sleep until noon tomorrow.”  You stood up from the bar stool.  “Plus I hit my three beer maximum.  Maybe once I know you better you can meet four beer me.”  

“You’re guarded in the strangest ways.”  Steve beamed at you.  

“Me?”  You were shocked.  “I’m an open book. Nothing to hide.”

“Well would this bother you then?”  Steve cupped your cheek and before you could react his face leaned in.

Warm lips met yours.  You melted into him, your body felt like it was floating.  Nobody in the bar paid you any attention as his tongue slid into your mouth before pulling out.  A little moan came forward when he pulled away.  

There was a devilish grin on his face as he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles.  

“Let’s get you an Uber.”  

All you could do was nod in a numb state.  This amazing man kissed you.  It was like a dream.  

You were all smiles as you rolled out of bed, straight to the bathroom.  Sundays were your lazy day, but you missed too much yesterday that you had to squeeze some work in.  It wouldn’t be too much.  

When you left the bathroom you grabbed your phone.  Your heart exploded when you saw there was already a text from Steve.  

Today you can say good morning.  I have faith.  

~~

Steve Rogers was perfect.  Three dates in a week, not including coffee night.  Every other day he wanted to see you.  He made you laugh, listened to you, was always available.  Sent you little comics you found funny.   You giggled at the last gif he sent you of a puppy eating bubble.

You: I’ve got to head into a work meeting.  I’ll text you later.  

Steve: Knock ‘em dead.  

Supportive too.  You smiled as you slipped your phone into your pocket.  It had only been a week, but you couldn’t remember the last time you connected with someone this way, if ever.

“You’re smiley.”  A coworker bumped you with her arm.  “It’s almost like you have a glow.”

“Just a happy person.”  You shrugged.  “How is your son doing? Any luck on that math test?”

“Oh he did much better!”  Your coworker dropped her shoulders in relief.  “That tutor was worth every penny.”

She continued to talk and you tried to listen, but your thoughts kept drifting to Steve.  This was the best week of your life.

~~

The meeting got your adrenaline pumping.  You left and went straight to your office, typing away the e-mails, ready to get the new project off the ground.   It was almost time to call it a day, the sun was starting to set.  

That was when you picked up your phone.  Two messages from Steve.  Fuck.  Guilt set in.  

How was the meeting?  

Everything okay?

You grabbed your phone and started typing.

You: Sorry work got crazy.  Major project.  Just leaving now.  

Steve: Do you want to over to my place for dinner?  Unwind?  I can have a meal and some wine for you, straight away?  

Unwinding with Steve sounded perfect, plus you were more interested in the version that didn’t involve a meal.  

You looked down at your work clothes, your makeup probably long smeared off,  but did that matter?  Steve didn’t seem to care about your appearance.  He wanted you for who you were.   And right now that sounded perfect.

You: Do you have ice cream?  

Steve: Oh my freezer is overflowing.  Any flavor you like.  Popsicles too.  

You: I’m in.  Text me your address?  

~~

Every other time you arrived at a paramour’s place for the first time you were nervous.  Not this time.  Your brain played a slide show of the last week.  The way Steve listened, hung on your words, followed up with questions.  He made you feel like the most important person in the world.  

Your past experiences taught you that people were either fantastic talkers or listeners.  You prided yourself on being both, but Steve seemed to fall in that same category.  

With a strange confidence you hit the buzzer for his apartment.  The door unlocked and you walked up the stairs, speeding up with each step.  

When you got to his floor you spotted him hanging out the door, waving at you.  This was going to be the hard part.  

“Before I step inside, I have to let you know something.”  You rehearsed this in your head a few times.  “Work was insane today, and I know tomorrow is Saturday, but I have to put in a few hours.  This happens about twice a year, not a common occurrence.  But as much as I want to, I can’t spend the night.”  

“Okay.” Steve nodded and held the door open.  “Again I love your honesty.”  

You walked in to see all the only lights on in the apartment two candles on the clothed kitchen table.  Your heart started to sink at the thought he’d put into it, but then you noticed the meal set out at each end and began to laugh.  

“Full disclosure,  all I had was some TV dinners.”  Steve came behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.  “And there’s no ice cream or popsicles.  But I can think of something I want for dessert.”

You spun around and put your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss.   He reached underneath you and scooped you up.  You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you, deepening the kiss.  

Nothing had ever felt so right in your life.  It was as if the cosmos had brought you together.  

“You’re too perfect.”  You pulled away as he dropped you on the bed.  

“You’re a one-in-a-million.”  Steve’s breath was heavy as he started to pull at your clothing.  

Hands were everywhere, lips randomly touching whatever skin they could.  Shoes and socks flying off with pants and shirts.  You shoved his boxers down as he unhooked your bra, the feeling of your bare chests pushed together making you shudder.  

Steve grabbed your panties and yanked them down as you settled back on his bed.  On your back, legs spread, knees up.  His arm encircled your thigh as he began to kiss.  You moaned and fisted the blanket, lifting your pelvis up inviting his mouth.  

He wasted no time and began to devour you. You tried to pay attention to what he was doing, but you couldn’t keep up.  Was that his tongue? His lips?  You cried out when something slid inside of you.  

“FUCK!”  Your body convulsed around his mouth.  

Your chest heaved while your brain tried to keep up with the pleasure.  Steve kept licking, touching, working you.  Everything was frenzied.   Your head collapsed to the side and you tried to regain control.  

“I knew you were primed.”  Steve kissed up your stomach.  “But you have one more in you.”  

He climbed until he was over you, his cock lining up with your entrance.  Never had you came that fast from another person.

Steve pushed forward and filled your aching pussy.  You squealed and grabbed onto his shoulders.   Rolling your body against his.  

“That’s it.”  He nipped at your neck.  “You were meant for me.  Never felt this way before.”  

You grabbed his face and pulled his lips to your own, enjoying the taste of yourself on him while he railed into you.  He returned the kiss and sped up.  Slamming his cock, teasing your clit while your g-spot came to life.  

There was no hiding your moans and his grunts as your bodies melded together.   Your breath started to tighten, and then your muscles started.  The edge came fast and you flung yourself over.  

Your head went back into the pillow as your screamed,  it was impossible to tell if your vision went black since the room was too dark.  But Steve let out a grunt and pulled out of you.

Instead of blowing all over your stomach he pushed your head down.  You slid down the bed and opened your mouth.  

His aim was perfect and for the second time you tasted yourself, enjoying the way he finished in your mouth, letting your lips wrap around his tip.  Drinking him all down while your body shook.  

“I think I’m falling in love.”  Steve pushed forward before pulling out and landing on his back.  

You nodded, breathless as you curled up to him.   He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head.  

You ignored the tears forming in your eyes, fighting them away.  If pure happiness existed, this was it.  How did you get so lucky?

~~

Steve: I’m going to hug my pillow all night wishing it was you.  

You glanced at the clock, it was already approaching midnight.  

You: I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.  Thank you for a wonderful night and a gourmet meal.

Steve: Get some sleep.  I miss you.  

You: I miss you too.

You grabbed your pillow.  If Steve was pretending his was you, maybe you could do that same.  A huge smile on your face as you drifted off.

~~

You woke with a smile.  Maybe Smiley could be your new nickname.  You grabbed your phone eager to see what Steve had sent. To your surprise, there was no message.

All week long you’d woken up to messages.  You smiled even bigger, maybe you’d finally worn him out and the man needed more sleep than you did.

You rolled out of bed to brush your teeth, thoughts filled with nothing but Steve.

~~

Work was so intense, you turned your phone off.  No distractions.  When the team broke for lunch you flipped it on, your heart racing to see Steve’s messages.  When the screen came to life you saw nothing.  

Maybe it was wrong?  Messages glitched sometimes.  You clicked the app open, all you saw was your last message.  It said read at 12:03 am.  

You shrugged it off.  Steve knew you had a big work day.  He was being respectful.  You thought about texting him, but you had to get back to it and didn’t want to come off as needy.  It wasn’t like you could text him all afternoon.  

~~

The project finished an hour early, 4 pm on a Saturday.  Everyone gave themselves a round of applause and you did a lazy golf clap as you reached for your phone.  

Your heart exploded when you saw a message from Steve.

Steve: How was your day?

You: Good.  I have so much to tell you!

There was no bubble response, or read receipt.  You stared at your phone.  Maybe turning it off had been a bad idea.  

After saying goodbye to your colleagues and walking to you subway stop your phone dings with a message.

Steve: Can we meet for coffee?  

You giggled.

You: Why not dinner?  The real kind this time.  It was a big day for me!  I want to celebrate, you can supply dessert again.  

Steve: Coffee.  Now?  First night?

Maybe he had a big day too.  He’d been so supportive of you, it was due to return the favor.

You: Sure.  I’ll be there in twenty.  

You headed to the other subway line, more than eager for a sleepover tonight.  

~~

When you arrive at the diner you scan it, not seeing Steve anywhere.  Maybe you beat him here.   You were about to grab a random booth when a man in a black hoodie, baseball hat, and sunglasses sticks his hand in the air.  

You smile, wondering if this is some Avenger’s mission.

“Are you going as the Unabomber for Halloween?”  You slide into the booth.  “I couldn’t even recognize you.”

“There’s no easy way to say this.”  Steve cracked his jaw.  “Ashley called me last night.  Very upset.”

“Whose Ashley?”  You blurted out the first thought that came to your mind.

“My ex.”  He let out a huge sigh.  “She’s a mess.”

“The bitch from the club?”  You were a little interested in the drama.

“She’s not a bitch.”  Steve put his hands on the table and your blood ran cold.  “She has some problems.  She is working on them.  And we have a lot of history and she needs my help.”

“Oh.”  You felt like your soul floated out of your body.

“You’re so perfect.”  He reached out and grabbed your hands.  “But she needs me.  You don’t need me.  We have a lot of history and I owe it to her to try.”  

“Oh.”  Everything went numb.

“I wanted to let you know in person and before things got too serious.”  Steve squeezed your hand.  “If I could take back last night, I wouldn’t.  It was perfect,  you’re perfect.”

“You already said that.”  Your voice was getting tight.  

“But I mean it.”  He pushed the hood off his baseball cap.  “I can’t leave her.  Without me, I mean, you saw her at the club that night.  She’s a disaster.”  

The tears started to boil in your throat they were so deep.  You yanked your hands away, thoughts flying to wild to speak clearly.  You didn’t know if you wanted to scream at him or plead with him to pick you.  

“I hope we can stay friends?”  He let out a sigh.  “I mean, you’re amazing and you made me so happy this past week.  Probably the happiest I’ve been in my entire life.  You’re smart, and witty, and beautiful, and you’re everything.”

The way he said week hit home.  It was only a week.  Not a month, not a year.  Just a week.  A lot of digs ran through your mind, ways you could make a joke, ways you could state your feelings.  But instead you said one thing.

“Sure.”  Your brain started to scream at itself.  

“That’s such a relief.”  Steve dropped his shoulders.

“I had a really long day.”  You stood up from the booth.  “Talk soon?”

You didn’t look back as you ran to the door, the tears spilling over. With a shaky hand you pulled out your phone, screaming at yourself for being so stupid to develope feelings, but smart enough to do one thing.  You highlighted his contact and clicked delete.  

~~

Friends, family, whoever would talk had to listen to you cry.  You didn’t hold back for them.  You made sure they alternated duty.   You even took a week off of work.

“If I would have stayed that night, would he have ignored her?”  You sobbed to your best friend.  

“No hunny.”  She ran a hand through your head.  “No.  You got caught in a weird game.”  

~~

Steve: How do you kill a circus?

It’s a random number not saved to a contact, but you know that’s the first text you get from Steve.  You know the punchline, but rather than responding you delete it.  The last thing you want is to memorize his number.  

You would’ve broken down and sent some very dumb stuff you would’ve regretted.  It’s only been five days.  He should send his girlfriend those jokes, not you.  

~~

Three days later you get  another.

Steve: How are you?

You think about deleting it, you think about screaming you broke my heart, acting cool like you’re busy, or just gushing about how much you miss him and what a great guy his is.  

You: Fine.

Steve: Glad to hear.

You don’t hesitate to delete the thread.

~~

Steve: I miss you.

Your heart races.  It’s been two weeks since the night you had the best sex of your life.  The tears sting your eyes.  You’ve been apart longer than you were together.   Did he realize he made a mistake?  Was he coming back to you?

You start typing: I miss

But then you stop.  No.  You had to frame this right.  State it right.  But what was there to do? Yell at him into loving you?  Did you love him?  Your heart hurt like it had, but this was wrong.  

With a shaky finger you highlighted the number and moved it to block.  The sobs came again and you cuddled your phone, regretting your choice.

~~

The day you hit the month mark you were trying not to think about Steve, but then the celebrity hit:  CAPTAIN AMERICA ENGAGED!  It ran all over the headlines.  

Him and his fiance were plastered everywhere.  You couldn’t escape.  It hit you then.  You were a rebound.  You were nothing.  A temporary step on his life path.  It hurt.  It hurt more than anything.  No ice cream could repair the hole one week with Steve Rogers had created.

~~

“I’m glad we got you out tonight.”  Your friend poked you in the side as she screamed in your ear.  “What’s it been, months since you’ve been in a club?”

“Yep.” Two, but you tried not to think about how your last time in a nightclub ended, how it could derail your life.  “But I’m here.”

You still hated the loud music.  Memories of a sports bar with Steve tried to come forward, but you buried them before they could.  

“Let’s dance!” She grabbed your hand.  

“Not yet.”  You yanked it away.  “In a few drinks.”

“I’ll wait with you.”  She settled next to you.  “But that dance floor is inviting.”

The bodies were moving and you scanned the area.  Your eyes bulged when you spotted a familiar face, tongue down a mouth.  

“Is that…..is that Captain America’s fiance?”  Your friend grabbed your arm,  you never told them the mysterious Steve’s last name.   “She’s not kissing Cap.”

She pulled out her phone ready to take a picture, but you put your hand out and lowered her arm.  

A wave of clarity rushed over you.  

“His girl wants to party all the time.  He buys her champagne and diamonds.”  A weird smile settled over you.  “He thinks he can fix her.”

That was the problem.  You didn’t need fixing.  And if you ever did you would figure it out for yourself, with the support of people around you.  Steve hit the nail on the head when he said you didn’t need him.  You never would.

“Go dance.”  You gave your friend a playful spank on the ass.  

For the first time in two months you felt like yourself and turned back to the bar hoping to block the music.  

A finger tapped your shoulder and you looked up with no jump.

“It’s loud in here.”  A handsome man with dark hair looked down at you.

“There’s a coffee shop a block away.”  You stood up.  “Can I buy you a cup?”

“Yes.” He nodded and set his drink down.  

“What’s your name?”  You yelled over the music.

“Stephen.”  He was right behind you.  

“Do you go by Steve and what are your thoughts on needy women?”  You pushed open the door to the club.

The air was hot and you rolled your shoulders back, embracing the lack of obnoxious music.

“If I went by Steve I would have introduced myself that way.”  His intense eyes glared at you.  “And I am a surgeon.  Everyone I encounter is needy.  I don’t have time for it in my personal life.”

You stifled your laughter at the response.   At least Steve had taught you to speak your mind.  Having a flashback to leaving the bar with him.  

“Well Mr. Stranger,  I will never need you.”  You grinned at him.  “Except for good conversation and occasional support.”

“It’s actually Doctor Strange.”  He chuckled.  “I think that’s the first time I laughed in months.”

“Tell me about it...literally.” You kicked at the sidewalk.  “How do you kill a circus?” 

The man scoffed at you and then wiped off his sleeves.  

“You go for the juggler of course.”  

[jbbuckybarnes]

We need to talk...

I knew that this topic of interactions will come up again, because it has never been talked all the way through, so I had this drafted for a while. So much of this old draft still resonated with this permanently unfinished discussion that I just had to edit it and post it, because I feel like it has to be said and put into one post. We can’t keep starting this conversation and then make it so dramatic that there is no conclusion or compromise. The only reason this time is more mellow is because people have better standards for this stuff due to a pandemic going on. This is written for the MCU fandom, but I’ve seen this go down in different fandoms, so here we go:

Things that are NOT at fault for readers not interacting:

The Readers. Should be clear after asking them again and again. And nothing changing. The readers at large are not at fault for a couple people being demanding or hateful. Neither are they at fault for this website and other social medias automatically putting writers at a disadvantage. They do their best with the time they have in their life (just like writers). And after asking them over months to try and reblog more and not much changing, it should be obvious that it isn’t where the problem lies. At least not 95% of it. NOW:

Things that ARE at fault for readers not interacting:

Pushing them, thinking they owe you stuff, while you tear other writers down saying that nobody owes them stuff. That happens time and time again. To me, to friends, to writers I check in with. Don't expect community to come to you when you don't come to them.

Not putting anon asks off when demands and hate get too much. It’s literally THAT easy when people get nasty. It’s sad for the nice anons, but they will understand. Save your mental health! Save the mental health of people reading that hate on their dash. I don’t know how many people constantly answering to hate I have unfollowed and I’m sure people have unfollowed me for doing the same.

Ego and hypocrisy. You can't say numbers aren't a problem and then say they are. In the same post. AND then also deny it later in some of the cases we’ve seen in recent months. Yes, that happened. In several fandoms where this topic comes up semi-regularly. And that might also be the reason people are tired of this stuff and speak out against it.

The fact Tumblr is only used approximately twice a year by most people. And has a shitty tag system. And a shitty algorithm. You are at an automatic disadvantage.

The fact some of you can't understand that 3-5% of your following interacting is a good and normal rate on pretty much all social media. The bigger you get in followers, the bigger the gap gets between followers and interaction (and demand and hate). There are literal statistics on that. 1% interaction at 10k is still good for a platform you have no power over!

The fact some of the people here call anons *haters* for pointing out that you interact w the same 10 people, making that speace seem excluding, when it's literally true what those people say!? Nothing wrong with only support the same 10 people on your blog, but then don't say that you practice what you preach (cause you don’t). You can’t demand more interaction when you don’t interact more yourself. That is how it works, for anyone, not just people of a certain follower count. If I reblog more fics, my blog gets more clout. Logical conclusion. Works for everyone. You have no time for that? Then don’t expect more back. It’s called SOCIAL media for a damn reason.

Telling people asking for Tumblr advice to interact more to make new friends but being the most defensive/indifferent person once they talk to you in DMs. Yes, that keeps happening and I know it from either my own experience or from others sharing their experiences with me. It’s kinda sad. It’s more of a minor factor in people not interacting, but I’ve seen it enough to mention it.

Making shitposts and personal posts all day and then saying you don't have the time in your life to interact w peoples' writings. Like, drabbles exist on almost anyone's masterlist. 5 minute read, easy support for a writer that might be losing motivation. Not every work has to be written like a novel to be great as hell or “quality proven.”

Oh, and there hasn't been a MCU movie in a while, making most of our readership probably currently not care about the fandom as much. Especially after Endgame ended up being a total opinion splitter.

Bonus: The misunderstanding that pushing shy readers to interact does the exact opposite. Not to start about the fact that we are in the middle of a pandemic at the moment. That means they may not have time to read and you may not have time to write. Normal. Logical. The same reason lots of people currently don’t publish. Don’t expect anything predictable and controlable out of current times.

Bonus: Check how you connect interactions to self worth and worth/fun of your writing hobby. Define what success means for you in this space, otherwise you will never be satisfied. It won’t matter if a post has 1k reblogs, you’ll always want more, because you chase an infinite metric.

Bonus: Maybe take a month to concentrate on community, getting outside of your bubble that you deny but very likely have (I’m not excluding myself from this), and actually improve interactions. Some people seem to have forgotten that when you interact with other writers, they probably interact back. Surprise! Your followers already know your tried and true fanfic friends, they want some new stuff without searching for it. Basic Marketing knowledge, know what your audience wants. If you do this for the interactions you gotta look at it from a marketing standpoint and not a pure passion standpoint. Oh: And maybe they find you interacting in the notes of someone else’s post and become an active follower. Win-Win-Win situation.

Bonus: Community is a loop, a net of interactions. Some people here have clique behavior, sound defensive and/or simply don't practice what they preach. That is not me or anyone else hating on specific blogs (I’m also no complete exception), it’s people trying to tell you that you can’t ask for shit you don’t practice yourself. Nothing wrong with supporting your friends only, but then don’t go around expecting new people to find your stuff. It’s literally THAT simple. You can’t have both!

Bonus: Ignoring some of the ride or die readers that are already there. Some of the people on here wish they had that and it’s deadass taken it for granted by some. Meanwhile I'm sitting here with Serotonin levels like christmas when someone I know reblogs my stuff and my fic gets some clout. Imma repeat myself: If you do it for the numbers, you gotta look at it more like marketing and less like pure passion.

And again: You are on a social media platform that will always put you at a disatvantage. That is not the readers' fault. It's how social media works at this point. If you want as much interaction as you can without putting in more interaction work yourself, simply share your works on here, AO3 and Wattpad simultaneously. Problem solved.

Bottomline: If you want more love on your work you gotta go beyond what you currently do, since it’s clearly not working for you. Reblog stuff from people you don't know. I don't give a sh*t if it's a 5k or a 100 follower blog. Hell, there is the whole 366 reblog challenge and some of you deadass went on reblogging the same people when that’s not really what this was made for. I, personally, haven't run out of new people to reblog, so this shouldn't be hard. Actually take time to talk to people in DM's, it takes 10 minutes in the evening to write a few people a message asking how they are or sending a cute gif. If you want stuff, you have to give it. Not leave it. People have come to me before, telling me "the community doesn't owe you stuff", no, they don't, but they do owe if they wanna be owed something back or even demand to be owed something back. Community is about back and forth. You give, you get. It's work, cause it's a big hobby. If you don't have time, that's cool, but then don't be sad about lower interaction. It’s logical that low activity from you leads to low activity from others in the long run, unless you do something worldshakingly new. You don't wanna look beyond a circle of friends or your go-to writers much? That's fine, but don't be upset about barely new people interacting cause they feel excluded or simply don’t find your work because of the same people seeing the same people reblogging the same works. What's not fine is not seeing how readers are NOT THE PROBLEM.

I haven’t talked to a single person about this that DIDN’T find the posts surrounding it demanding and completely ignoring the arguments some others had...repeatedly. Every single time it came up. Not just once but time and time again, whenever this topic comes up. You want interaction? Interact. You don’t want hate? Don’t give it a platform. As harsh as that sounds, I’ve never felt better on this platform since I put anon asks off, even when I miss the nice anons. They probably understand. PS: Again, this was written a while ago and edited to fit into a more general context now. I hope people can discuss this in a civil, non-judgmental way, because that is how I tried to write this. This is not again a specific person or group, it’s pinpointing what I see repeating for two years on this platform now, in all corners. I’d also like to mention that we are still in a pandemic and lives have never looked so vastly different, so you can’t demand anything normal in this very not normal time. Even if you do it all right, your interactions dropped in the pandemic cause people likely stay away form this platform for mental health reasons. There is so many layers to look at, these clearly aren’t all, but I hope it makes some people think about what and when they complain. Numbers will never satisfy you, they will always leave you wanting more if you don’t know why you do what you do and for what. Anyway: Be nice to each other and me in the notes in case this gets shared! No drama please! Ignore any grammar and typo mistakes, lol. Love ya!

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 13: SNAFU

Characters: Captain Syverson, various original minor/supporting characters.

Summary: Sy has some time to think about his past, present, and future while roughing it in the Virginia wilderness which leads him to a revelation about what he really wants…but is it too late?

Need to start from the beginning? Miss an update because Tumblr? Click me!

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings:  Mild language, mature themes, military and weapon terminology, discussion, and use. (For those who don’t know, SNAFU is a term coined in the military. It’s an acronym for “Situation Normal, All Fucked Up.” And since this is from Sy’s perspective, I thought a military term, as opposed to a therapy term would be appropriate.)

Author’s Note: Despite this being the longest chapter, clocking in at almost 5k, it was one of the easiest to write, and came the quickest. I love writing from Sy’s perspective, and the pure love he has for Shane. I’m hoping to be able to write a bit more of his POV before the story is complete. We’ll see. I apologize if it seems like one long rant about Sy’s feelings…I guess that’s what it is, with various activities peppered in. He can be a sensitive guy, and I wanted to show that. 

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

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Sy was no whimp. That much was certain. Missouri winters had toughened him up more than most men in his battalion and most of the participants in the training he was currently undertaking.

But it was more than that. Sy was uniquely prepared for the elements. He remembered a particularly harsh December night during Christmas break, before he joined the service when he was home alone and had to let the dog out. Fool that he was, he wore no shoes. Greater fool, he'd allowed the door to the back yard to close…and unfortunately, it had a tendency to lock. Which it did. He tried fruitlessly for a while to break back in, but being without a cell phone, he knew he'd have to walk a good distance for help with the lock.

He slipped out the gate and started up to the road, to follow it  to his grandparents a few miles away. The county road wasn't the best kind for walking, particularly barefoot in the late fall, but his feet were soon too numb to feel the gravel and whatever else was lacerating the soles of his feet. After about an hour, he made it there, shivering, knocking frantically and waking his frail old grandparents up to rescue him from his own negligence. He'd regret that until the day he died. Not that they were angry about it. They shrugged it off. His grandma cleaned the blood and dirt from his feet and bandaged the shallowed abrasions. They didn't look too bad, considering the area they lived in and the trash that could have been waiting to carve him up. Then she set about cleaning up Sy's messy footprints from her normally immaculate floor. Grandpa looked all over for their spare keys to Sy's and his mom's house, and finally found them. He lent him a pair of shoes, drove him back home, and let him in the house. After that, Sy found himself eager to spend time outdoors during colder weather. As if determined to build up a tolerance to it in case he ever found himself in such a situation again.

Now, despite the time of year being only late August, it was unseasonably cool, especially at night, as if Christmas was right around the corner, and Sy was wishing more and more that he had someone to cuddle with during the nights he'd be doing cross country training here at the beautiful Shenandoah National Park. He had packed only the essentials for the expedition, a mess kit, bed roll, canteen, modest rations, first aid supplies, et cetera, plus a rope and a tarp for building a shelter. On his person, he had a compass, a topographical map of the park with checkpoints indicated, waterproof, strike-anywhere matches, a hunting knife, a tactical knife, an M17 pistol, and three .9mm clips. He was also given a flare gun to use in case he got stuck for any reason and needed extraction.

On his first night in the wilderness, he'd taken a lot of time falling asleep. Thinking.

He thought about his last week at home. He wondered how Mr. and Mrs. Stevens were doing with Aika. Shane had offered to watch her, and he considered it. He had appreciated her eagerness to help after her…less than enthusiastic response to hearing about this trip. But he decided since Aika had a close relationship already with Fred and Caroline, and she was still getting to know Shane, they'd better be the ones to take her. She understood, and had offered the second reason that since she worked so much, she wouldn't be able to give her the kind of attention she was used to. That had made a lot of sense. He felt like kind of a bad dog parent for not thinking of it, himself.

He thought about the week he'd been here already at the compound. His first day filling out paperwork, he was asked for an emergency contact. He was used to putting his mom…but she wasn't in the best of health, herself. He had nobody. Nobody but Shane. He put her down, instead of his mom. He thought about the seminars on company approved methods of subduing and detaining targets and combatants. He should have taught Shane some self-defense moves before he left. She could handle herself, and she'd proven so, but still. A refresher, or an advancement on one's skills was always a good idea. But he was sure she'd be fine. He thought about her the most in the torturous policy and procedure lecture. What he wouldn't'a given to have her here with him. She would have made everything fun. And she would have been a way better study partner than Keith. Keith, a Navy vet from Little Rock was a good guy…he just…didn't get Sy's jokes. He was a very literal kind of thinker, and it took extra effort for Sy to communicate with folks like that.

Shane, though…he and Shane wouldn't have gotten too much done, study-wise. They would have been…distracted.

As he hiked along the trails to his first checkpoint, he breathed in the clean, crisp air and stopped at the odd overlook here and there. The park was nestled on the outer edge of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and they were too gorgeous not to appreciate while he was here. He found himself…uniquely emotional. He didn't feel lonely often, but since he'd met Shane, he'd hardly gone two days without seeing her, even if it was for just an hour. She'd love all of this. She'd probably want a tent, and coffee in the mornings, so they wouldn't be able to travel quite as light, but they'd make it work. Maybe one day they'd take a trip like this. Just for fun. No checkpoints. No deadlines. No semi-automatic weapons…well, honestly, he'd probably still bring a gun, anyway. You never did know about people these days, he thought. Of course, that's probably what people think of me carrying a pistol, he also thought…anyway, he was almost to the checkpoint.

Said checkpoint was a big tent, like the ones they sold fireworks out of leading up to Fourth of July. Inside there was a single lane shooting range set up down one half of the tent. On the other half, there were stations set up with dismantled weapons that you had to assemble in a certain amount of time. Someone had beaten him to the range, so he started with the guns. No problems whatsoever. He was familiar more or less with all of the models, or some version of them. When the previous participant, a small blonde woman, had finished on the range, Sy stepped up to the counter.

The attendant reset the target for Sy so he could do a close range shot, then again for mid and long range ones. He shot well, although he still wasn't used to the lighter weight of the SIG Sauer M17s the armed forces switched to back in 2017. They'd offered him an M18 at the compound, but he favored the heaver pistol, instead. Maybe the M18 was more packable, but Sy just didn't feel right firing a weapon that felt like a feather in his hand. If it was up to him, he'd take a Colt Python .357 Magnum Revolver. That, however, was more than just a question of how the firearm felt in his hand. Being out in the wilderness like this made him think back to how it must have been before these lands became civilized and gentrified. Back to the days of the cowboy, Wyatt Earp and the OK Corral. Back when it was just the wild and free land he could pretend it was now. He thanked the attendant, who was writing his name on his targets to take back to the compound along with his graded weapon assembly timesheets, and then was back on his way.

There was an eerie beauty about this unsullied land, he thought, as the dusk fell the second night of the excursion and he began setting up his camp about halfway between the first and second checkpoints, by his estimation. With his fire built and his shelter up, Sy took out some of his rations, cured meat, hard cheese, and some walnuts, and had a light supper before cleaning his gun and turning in while the ground still held some heat from the waning sun, wishing again as the cold set in that his woman was there to warm him.

His sleep was fitful. And he awoke before dawn, from dreams he couldn't remember but which still left him feeling empty. They must have been about her. He was starting to feel regret. The last time he'd seen Shane, he'd said some things that he meant to be selfless. But he didn't mean them. He meant the parts about loving her, of course. But the last thing he wanted was to come home and find her moved on with someone else. He couldn't stand to think about it. As he walked into the next checkpoint area, the range was already set up for close range firing. He riddled the target with .9mm holes and could barely wait until the attendant got the fresh sheet set to mid range before he began firing.

"How about you let me fully clear the lane before you start on the long range target, okay, Syverson?"

"Sorry, man. I'm a little…on edge today. Won't happen again."

The short, sandy-haired buck trotted out to replace the riddled sheet with one more for the long range leg, pulled it down and lacked it in to long range position, then hoofed it back up to safety, sensing the captain's impatience. Sy shot cleanly, but with cold anger, as if the silhouette on the page out there was trying to take Shane away from him. He put two square in the chest, and two in the head without hesitating.

"Man, I've never seen a long range shoot like that! What's the deal, you pissed at an ex, or something?" Sy checked the man's lapel for a name tag.

"Not exactly, Mister…Daniels."

"Call me Jack." they shook hands, and Sy chuckled, questioning.

"I'm Sy. You're name is Jack…Daniels?"

"Yes sir. No relation to the Lynchburg Daniels, unfortunately. Momma wanted to name me after her granddad, and my old man, well, he had no problem with it given his affinity for the spirit."

"A wise man, your dad. Some of my best nights have included Tennessee Number 7." He didn't elaborate, but he was getting very specific flashbacks of drinking games in his kitchen with Shane. And he was gonna have to shake it off before the weapons assembly drill, or else he'd end up putting together an assault rifle backward.

He made it through without any trouble, thank the good Lord. But that didn't mean that his mind wasn't still reeling. He was thinking of Shane and the possibility that she was being courted by Chris Evans look-alikes and young Harrison Ford doppelgangers, and it was making him furious. He was pretty sure that she was about as interested in taking a break as he was, but he couldn't help himself from making the offer under the circumstances. He kicked himself as he made his camp for the evening, not very far away from the third checkpoint, but too far away to get there by dusk when the daily deadline was. He was a shoe in to get there first in the morning, though, if he was reading his map correctly, and he was damn good at maps, if he did say so, himself. And who would bitch at him for bragging out here, anyway. The odd cricket or squirrel? He didn't think so.

It was colder tonight, and he was thankful that he thought to boil some water for his canteen and put it at his feet. He curled his surly, burly body up under the layers of blanket and thermal sheeting. He was almost warm enough…but he still needed something.

His sleep was plagued by strange dreams that he unfortunately remembered tonight. The scene began with Shane in a bright pink dress and matching gloves, dripping with diamonds, like Marilyn Monroe in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. She looked so glamourous and beautiful, but she was getting passed from man to man to the tune of Madonna's Material Girl, which was not the correct song, and he knew it in that moment, but couldn't correct anyone, because it was all playing out on the big screen TV in his basement. When he realized this he turned it off and noticed a familiar head of hair on his lap and stroked it, about to say "Hey, sunshine." until the figure sat up and looked at him, and it was Jordan, the PTA, batting his eyelashes at him, and asking, "You ready for bed, babe?"  The therapist leaned in for a kiss, but Sy leaned back, tumbled off the couch and landed on those crutches again, standing right in front of Shane in the lobby of the therapy clinic.

"Hey sunshine." he said warmly. She looked confused.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Well…I should hope so…it's me. Sy."

"Sorry, not ringing any bells. I'll look you us and see who you're with, though. Usually Heather tells the new patients which therapists they get their first day. What's your last name?"

He felt like he was getting kicked in the gut with a soccer cleat worn by the Incredible Hulk. He answered with defeat.

"Sy's a nickname. Last name Syverson, first name Logan."

"Oh, there you are. Looks like Cory gets to take care of you today. I'll let him know you're ready. As long as you're all done with the secretaries?"

Sy nodded and collapsed to the floor blacking out. When he woke up, his neighbor, Mr. Stevens was standing over him, insisting it was time for him to get ready. He kept handing him things to put on. Pants, a nice shirt, a vest, a light blue tie, a jacket, nice shoes. The whole enchilada. They got out of Fred's car at a little white chapel outside which, his neighbor pinned a small boutonniere of powder blue hydrangeas to his lapel and walked in with him.

"Come on, boy. She'll be here any minute."

Sy was nervous, but excited. He was obviously marrying Shane. But he couldn't remember proposing, or planning the wedding, or an engagement party, or bachelor party, or rehearsal dinner, nothing…but none of that mattered. He heard the first notes of "Here Comes the Bride" and everything faded away, anyway. He began to cry as she got closer. She was moving slowly, he presumed out of nerves. Or perhaps she'd chosen the wrong shoes. It didn't matter. They'd dance the night away barefoot, and make love until dawn. He wished her veil wasn't so thick. He couldn't even see her bouquet. Let alone her stunning face, no doubt smiling as she cried with him. When she stood in front of him, he broke protocol and removed the veil to find Aika in a white dress on her hind legs panting, tongue lolling happily to one side.

"You may now kiss the bride." said the wizened old minister, causing Aika to knock Sy to the ground licking his face until he blacked out again.

This time, he woke to the chirping birds of a mountain morning in Virginia. His campfire long snuffed, his canteen now chilled as his blood. Those dreams…those were traumatic. He didn't want Shane to see anyone else. The thought of seeing anyone else himself repulsed him. Thinking about what his life would have been like if they'd never gotten to work together made him physically ill, and he was terrified that if he didn't act on these feelings, he'd end up with no one but his dog. Why did it take a trip out of state and all these nights of solitude to figure this out? She was all that mattered. He could dig ditches, flip burgers, get a teaching certificate and coach, or teach gym. Whatever. He also liked history. He could think of something if the people at Secure Source couldn't keep him in consistent work. It would be fine. He understood his purpose now. And it wasn't just to do his duty to his country. He'd served proudly for years. He had a new purpose now. And it was her.

He packed up camp in what he was sure was record time and hauled ass to the last checkpoint where the brass should be waiting for finishers. He was the first one there this morning, but he wasn't sure if anyone had made it yesterday. He didn't try to make small talk with the attendant today. He was on a legit mission to get back to his locker at the compound, turn his phone on and call Shane. He fired four shots, but only made two holes on the long range target. One in the chest, one in the head. The attendant was impressed, giving the highest possible grade.

"Man, Syverson. I pray I never do anything to piss you off."

Sy nodded in acknowledgement and went on to the weapons drill booths. Today, there were distracting sound effects playing on a speaker in each booth, and each one was different. Sy ignored the cacophony, pretending it was white noise, and focused on the puzzles at hand, breezing through the new weapons in better time than ever.

As his cards were being scored and turned in for review to Jane Freitag, the administrator over acquisitions and training, he got himself a cup of coffee and a doughnut, and just observed her, tactically, and objectively. She was a redhead with sharp features, freckles, and light eyes. She was slender, but dressed simply, and modestly. The consummate professional. Sy had honestly barely registered her gender, and it wasn't because she wasn't beautiful. She was. Full red lips, lashes for days, and although her clothes didn't exactly accentuate her shape, he could tell he had a decent figure. He just wasn't interested. And would never be interested in anyone but Shane again. Miss Freitag startled him out of his thoughts.

"Mr. Syverson." She beckoned him to the entrance to the tent near her vehicle.

He picked up his gear and coffee and trotted over to her.

"Ma'am?"

"Jane, please."

"Sy, then, for me. What's next on the agenda?"

"Well, you're the first participant across the finish line. I'm very impressed. It seems as though you almost could have finished last night."

"Yes, ma'am, if I hadn't taken a little extra time for sightseeing, I might have made it here by dusk last night. I just haven't had the hustle I had today."

"Well, that's nothing to sneer at. Normally, the deprivation of food, regular water supply, and proper sleeping conditions make participants sloppy. The opposite seems to be true for you, as you've done better at each checkpoint than the one before. Now, let's get back to the compound and get you a proper meal, and a shower, and talk about what's next for you here at Secure Source."

"Yeah, about that. Before we go much further with this, I need to know one thing."

"What's that?"

"I need to know if you'll be able to find me work near enough to St. Robert and the base there so that I don't have to relocate and travel all the time.  I've got a life there, and…it's not something I can just pick up and move on a whim, and I don't want to be away for weeks and months at a time. I know I made this trip work, but I'm praying it didn't already ruin everything." He wasn't going to waste time mincing words. He needed to know right away or else this wouldn't work.

"Sy, with your talent…they're gonna want to put you on the high profile cases. Celebrity security. Concerts, movie premiers, things like that. You'll be wasted as a small town rent-a-cop." there was true concern in her face and her voice as she drove them out of the park and onto the main road to Secure Source's compound.

"If there's a need I can fill, how is that a waste? There's lots of talent in this program. Just 'cause I finished first don't mean I did it the best. And I'm sure most of these folks have the people skills to take them farther'n me. And if you wanna gimme first crack at those, I'll hear ya out. Just…let me reserve the right to turn down the out of town jobs. Especially if they're short notice. And if it takes me away from another security job, I want you to send me a replacement a few days in advance so I can meet 'em, train 'em, and introduce 'em around."

"Seems reasonable." Jane said.

"Well, alright, then. I think we got ourselves a deal. I'll shower up in the locker room real quick, then meet ya in the commissary for a sandwich so we can handle the particulars?"

"Sure, Sy." she agreed as they pulled into the parking structure.

They went their separate ways, Jane to her office, and Sy to the quartermaster to return his supplies and get the key to his locker. He practically danced there, he was so giddy to get to call Shane. He did need a quick shower first, though. Which he took, grabbing some shampoo and soap out of his travel bag. When he got back to his locker, towel around his waist, he replaced the products and grabbed his phone. He sat on the bench between the rows of lockers as it booted up.

When it did, it began alerting him as if it's life depended on it. Three text messages, three voicemails, … and twenty four missed calls. That was odd. Maybe a telemarketer had gotten his number.

He checked the texts first. One was a picture of Aika from Fred, his neighbor, the other two were from Shane…two days ago. The day he went into the park.

Hey, hope you have a great first day of Survivor: Virginia! Lol! Be safe! I love you!

OMG, nutty day today! I'm gonna be doing notes for hours! I'll text you in the morning! <3

And then nothing…he chuckled at Survivor: Virginia, but was a bit concerned. Maybe she'd decided not to waste time texting him if he wasn't going to respond? He didn't know. Maybe some of the calls or voicemails were from her. He'd check before calling.

One from his mom, one from the Stephen's house phone, and the rest were from Fort Wood Therapy. That was weird. He was discharged and didn't have any appointments…surely he wasn't missing any…Shane would have said something. He listened to the voicemails. The first one was from Heather.

"Hey, Sy, it's Heather, Shane's friend here at therapy. Hey, give me a call when you get this. Thanks."

Weird…the next one was from Susan, Shane's boss. In the same tone.

"Captain Syverson, it's Susan DeForrest here at Fort Wood Therapy Clinic. Please give us a call when you get this. Thank you."

Again, weird. The last one was Susan again and far less friendly and measured.

"Mr. Syverson. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but you need to bring Shane back to work and stop screwing around. One or both of you is in serious trouble. Either you're being hot-lined for abduction or she's fired for not showing up for work. The choice will be hers." and the line went dead.

Sy felt his stomach twist into nauseated knots at Susan's words. Shane hadn't been to work. For how long? He had to call them. He didn't want to think about the horror that might have befallen Shane while he'd been away.

"Fort Wood Therapy Clinic, this is Heather, how may I help you?" Heather said, trying to hide the obvious worry beneath the cordial demeanor.

"Heather, it's Sy, what the hell's going on with Shane? What do you mean, she hasn't been to work, I don't…"

"Let me give you to Susan, Sy. I'm sorry." She added the last two words in a whisper. After a brief moment on hold, Susan picked up.

"So, Mr. Syverson. Finally decided to call us back?"

"Cut it out, Susan." He let her blatant ignorance of his rank slide in favor of getting to the point. "Tell me what's going on."

"Shane left work Monday and hasn't been back since. No one has seen her. Apart from you, I presume. I knew letting her date a patient would come back to bite me. I should never have--"

"Shut up! This isn't about you, and it isn't because of you. And you had no right to tell Shane who she could and couldn't date, anyway. I haven't seen her in about a week and a half. I'm training out of state for a job. I've been away from my phone since Monday, and I just got back to it now."

"She isn't…with you? I assumed…"

"Well, you know what they say, Susan. I'm coming back early if I can manage it. See if I can do something to help find her. Thanks for calling me. I know your intentions weren't the best when you did, but ultimately, it worked out. I may not have found out otherwise, at least until… much later."

He hung up before she could respond. He had to talk to Jane about cutting his training short. This was all his fault. If he had just come to the realization of just how important, how vital Shane really was to him before he left…well he never would have gone in the first place. She was his life now. His world. His future, and his whole heart. Tears stung his eyes as he dressed to meet Jane in the commissary. She'd have to be okay with this. She'd have to understand.

As he got closer to the smell of fry oil, seasonings, and sizzling meat on a griddle, aromas that usually made his stomach grumble with hunger, he had to swallow back the bile that crept up his throat. He found her seated at a small round four-top, already eating a salad. He sat across from her, startling her from whatever she was reading on her phone, and again when she looked at his expression and complexion.

"Sy, what's wrong? You look downright green!"

"Listen, Jane, I'm going to have to leave training early." She scowled at him, but he was more concerned with the putrid smells of boiled egg and onion coming off her chef salad. He had to get this over with quick before he wretched in the middle of the mess hall.

"That's a big ask, Sy. Gonna have to have a reason."

"I just got a call that my girlfriend is missing. I need to go home and help find her."

"Oh…yeah, that's…that's some reason. I'm really sorry to hear that. Any leads so far?"

"No, I just got off the phone with her useless boss and all she told me was that she hasn't been to work since Monday and can't be reached on her phone. I have my suspicions, but I wanna talk to the authorities."

"Okay, well. Maybe when things calm down at home, we can set you up with some online courses like we do for our assets who need refreshers, but are on assignment. I'll approve that for you."

"Thanks," he said, gratefully, "I'm also wondering if the company has any…transportation solutions for me…of an immediate nature?"

"Man, what were your letters to Santa like as a child?"

"Oh, you know, a little red wagon, end of poverty, world peace…that kind of stuff." he grinned his most charming grin.

"Why am I not surprised? Okay, but you have to return the favor somehow, Sy."

"How about, one assignments of your choosing, no questions asked?"

"Hmmm, what about five assignments?"

"Three?" he countered.

"Done." they shook hands across the table. "I would have settled at two." she smirked.

"I would have done ten." he winked at her as he turned to retrieve his belongings from his bunk and locker. He had a plane…or perhaps a chopper to catch.

Up Next: Chapter 14: No Call No Show

[officialthiamlibrary]

Got any canon fics set post 6B?

Here you go! A mix of older fics and some within the last month, I hope you’ll enjoy them!

Ocean Front Property and Yoda Wisdom by Diary (Teen | Complete | 1.3K) Tags: Frenemies, angst and feels Summary: Post-canon. Theo has issues, Stiles cares about Liam, and these facts interconnect. Complete. A Peek Inside: “I still don’t like or trust you. Okay, I never will. But you’ve been good for him. And I gotta admit, seeing you in love is an interesting thing.”

Hold Me. I’ve Lost My Anchor. by SterekShipper (General | Complete | 5K) Tags: Hurt/comfort, angst, there is a second fic that follows this one Summary: Once again Liam and Theo had been in a fight. There was nothing unusual about that. It happened all the time. It was a natural part of their relationship. This fight however, had a different ending. A Peek Inside: It was just a fight. There was never a reason. Not really. Their relationship consisted of bickering and playful jibes. A bond had formed the night of the hospital. The night Theo had faced the Ghost Riders head on, fully intending to sacrifice himself. All to save him.

Stones by cherrysprite (General | Complete | 2.6K) Tags: First kiss, Theo introspection Summary: Theo begins to find his place as a normal nineteen year old with an accidental rock collection. A Peek Inside: One day, he sees a man sitting outside that said cafe, playing his guitar softly while people walk past without a second thought. It’s one of the more jarring parts of Theo’s detachment, he realizes. If he were normal, he would be able to grasp how people managed to pick up on hobbies and skills. It was like Mason and his love of reading, Corey and his talent with writing, and Liam spending his weekends playing lacrosse or working out. He just always finds himself perplexed at how they’d each figured out that what they were doing was good to them.

in the hospital after the war by snaeken (General | Complete | 1.5K) Tags: Summary: "I can wipe the blood off my own face, Liam," he snarks, mainly because he doesn't know what else to do; because it's comfortable, familiar, as far as the two of them are concerned. He doesn't pull away though. "I know. But I want to." Liam looks up at him, ocean blue eyes boring into his own. Theo's breath would probably catch, if he was breathing at all. "Let me." A Peek Inside: The hospital is, well. A bit like the aftermath of a warzone. Doctors and nurses and deputies everywhere, armed with handcuffs and body bags, making arrests and treating the wounded; Theo's own wolfsbane-laced bullet wound in his shoulder was treated by Deaton, while Liam regrouped with his pack and had his own wounds treated by Argent.

it’s you, sweet baby by axebastard (Teen | Complete | 1.9K) Tags: Pining, getting together Summary: In which Theo eats a s'more for the first time and Liam isn't quite as subtle as he'd like to be. A Peek Inside: Theo blinked, one corner of his mouth twitching. So Liam was inviting him somewhere. On purpose. He didn't know whether to feel honored or suspicious.

To Take One’s Pain by Endraking (Teen | Complete | 2.5K) Tags: Minor character death, angst, sick children Summary: Liam wanders the Hospital as he does a sweep. Memories come back to him about Theo since the chimera hadn't been seen since Gabe died and Monroe fled. While walking the halls, Liam learns something that will change his perspective about Theo. A Peek Inside: Liam walked the halls of Beacon Memorial Hospital.  It wasn't that long ago that it was a battleground and not a place for the sick and injured to heal.  Memories of those times, memories of hunters killing supernaturals, memories of the Riders, memories of the chimera and the Dread Doctors pull him to wander the halls.  He's not a patient though he would garner a little less attention if he put on one of the hospital gowns.  The lights were dimmed, something the hospital did either to save money or remind some of the more active patients that it was indeed nighttime.  He moved down one hall to the next, walking up the stairs and repeating the process until he makes it to the roof.  Then he hopped into the elevator and repeated.  He was making sweeps of the hospital, but it wasn't from any present issue but his worry over his stepfather.  Doing sweeps in the preserve was one thing but it was almost too easy for the pack to forget that things attack the hospital regularly and Melissa and Dr. Geyer were right in the line of fire.  That brought him to the halls, but his mind was a million miles away as he wandered to the morgue

i know all sorts of things i don't believe by eneiryu (Explicit | Complete | 80K) Tags: Post finale, Theo Raeken centric, getting together, pack dynamics Summary: So, anyway. That’s how Theo becomes pack-mom to Scott’s merry band of supernatural misfits. A Peek Inside: Scott gets this narrow-eyed look like he knows what Theo’s thinking, but humors him regardless, “I was hoping you’d agree to stay here, help protect the town.” (...) “Okay,” Theo blurts out, cutting him off before he can speak, suddenly irrationally afraid that Scott‘s going to take it back, say nevermind, forget it, “Just until you find Monroe, right?” Scott nods, still looking perturbed but thankfully silent, “Okay. I’ll stay until then.”

you want me to hold your hand and kiss it better? by xxDreamFilledEyesxx (Mature | Complete | 3.9K) Tags: angst and feels Summary: Set after the Teen Wolf series finale: After taking Gabe's pain away, Theo thought Liam might be glad to see that he cares, so why has he been acting so strange? A Peek Inside: A few feet away stood Melissa, her face covered in pity for the life the boy on the floor had lost in a war that wasn’t his to fight. Theo's heart skipped a beat as his gaze turned to the person standing next to her. Liam.

Sun Is Up, I’m A Mess by IThinkWeHaveAnEmergency (General | Complete | 5.1K) Tags: College, mutual pining Summary: Liam transfers to San Francisco State and on his first day, runs into a face he hasn't seen in a long time. A Peek Inside: Liam steps closer to the man he hasn't seen in almost two years, his campus security guard uniform clear.

A Chimera’s First Heart by Auddieliz09 (Mature | Complete | 22K) Tags: Mild smut, first kiss Summary: Theo wouldn’t go so far as to say that everything is perfect in the months after the War, but, for him, it’s just about as perfect as his life can get. However, when someone from his past shows up on Scott's doorstep, Theo's life takes a new turn. But will it be for better or worse? A Peek Inside: When they left the hospital that night, Liam had looked at him in a way he never had before. Like he was seeing Theo for the first time without his past hanging over him. He was seeing Theo for the man he was trying to become. A man worthy of being his friend, maybe more. Theo became an official ally to the pack and began to hang out with Liam and his friends.

five punch knock out by I_write_fanfiction_sometimes (Teen | Complete | 2.4K) Tags: 5+1 Summary: Five times Liam asked what he was doing, and one time the answer was 'being happy' A Peek Inside: Theo squeezes his eyes shut and barely holds back a groan. Mint foam drips into the sink from the handle of his toothbrush and burns around the edge of his mouth. Of course it had to be Liam. Fucking Mason wouldn’t ask questions, he’d just walk right back out. Somehow though, Liam has decided he wasn’t scary.

Change of Plans by never_love_a_wild_thing (Teen | Complete | 69K) Tags: Fake relationship, light angst Summary: When Hayden breaks up with Liam minutes before his very public proposal was planned, Theo steps up to save him the embarrassment of being rejected in front of the pack. In order not to disappoint their Alpha, Theo and Liam decide to carry on faking their relationship until they can think of a good way to end it and keep everybody happy. In which Theo is crushing hard and neither of them plan things out well enough (or at all, really). A Peek Inside: Theo opened his mouth and then shut it quickly. He had argued with Liam over Hayden too many times to think that it was worth it anymore. “I just think that you should maybe figure out how she feels about it before you go and ask her to marry you in front of your entire pack,” he said.

Only you can look at me the way you do by merrythoughts, ReallyMissCoffee (Explicit | Complete | 57K) Tags: Smut Summary: But Liam knows that tonight's gonna be one of the nights where he caves in and he doesn't care. A Peek Inside: They hadn't turned up anything so why not blow off some steam and then check back later? Scott'll never know the difference.

The Truth Will Set You Free by tabbytabbytabby (Teen | Complete | 1.6K) Tags: Light angst, misunderstandings Summary: Theo realizes he has feelings for Liam, but before he can tell him he sees Liam with a girl from his class and assumes they're dating, and that Liam could never be interested in him. He makes a decision to help himself find some peace, but first, he needs to tell Liam how he feels. Liam's response surprises him. A Peek Inside: A normal morning in mid-March, standing in the Geyer’s kitchen, watching as Liam tried and mostly failed at making pancakes. He’d stood there with pancake batter all over himself, looking sleep-rumpled and adorable and the thought just struck Theo so suddenly.

The Curse of Batman and Robin by songbvrd (No Rating | Complete | 10K) Tags: Bodyswap Summary: Liam and Theo are friends. Sort of. They live together and spend a lot of time together, but they also fight. Constantly. When a body swapping curse leaves them having to pretend to be each other, shenanigans ensue. A Peek Inside: It never lasted, because as annoyed as he was by Theo, he did also like him. He would never tell him that, god forbid the already painfully egotistical chimera get another boost on his account.

The Big Bad Chimera by OTP_fandom_shipper (Teen | Complete | 643) Tags: Fluff Summary: Theo falls asleep on Liam's shoulder, so he takes a picture. Needless to say, Theo is not very happy and wants it deleted. Que the "wrestling" session in the living room. A Peek Inside: Theo arrived back at Liam’s around 5:00. The beta’s family had been gracious enough to let Theo stay with them after they found out that he had been living in his truck. He did get a job not too long ago since he had graduated high school and wanted to make his own money. He was saving to get a place of his own. Theo didn’t want to stay too long with the Geyers.

Touch my neck and I’ll touch yours by voices_in_my_head (Mature | Complete | 7.3K) Tags: Pornstar Theo Summary: ""And you, Theo, what did you do during the week?" Scott asks, clearly trying to bring him into the conversation, which no one has done aside from Liam (they talked about the new The Good Place episode, because surprise surprise, Theo got addicted to Netflix once he found out what it was) and Corey (who actually seems to enjoy Theo's presence and Liam knows they've hanged out just the two of them. Which he obviously is not jealous about, pff, why would he be? Corey has a boyfriend. ... And Liam isn't interested in Theo that way, obviously.) Theo smirks before answering, to which Liam's heart does a slight jump, hoping that no one noticed or, if they did, will be kind enough to pretend otherwise. "I did a porno."" A Peek Inside: Liam isn't entirely sure how he feels about it. Theo seems to really have turned a new leaf, and Liam is pretty sure he would have died in the hospital if he hadn't been there, but he also can't forget the way he played them all, the way Liam almost killed Scott because of him.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 3: Fire in a Silver Storm

(from ‘The Conman and the Maid’ Series)

…in which Harry and Y/N get trapped in a cave in the middle of a snowstorm.

Word count: 5k

AU: princess!y/n, prisoner!harry, conartist!harry.

Series description: Y/N is a princess and Harry is a prisoner in her castle. With his help, she escapes from her arranged marriage in search of a happy ending, if there is one.

A/N: things are about to get interesting 😌

.

Harry had never thought he would live to see this day. He had just helped a maid take down two guards twice her size and steal their weapons, and now they were heading to the stable to steal the king’s horses. He’d been arrested for unintentional murder, but it wasn’t until tonight that he was truly considered a criminal.

The worst thing was that he barely knew this girl. All he knew was her name, which sounded as fake as the Northerners’ hospitality, and she used to be the princess’ maid before she was a thief. The only thing they had in common was their fate if they ended up getting caught. They would both be dead, probably hanging side by side on the curtain wall.

“Find the prisoner! Find whoever helped him escape!” one guard shouted to the other and they both deserted their posts to rush back to the keep. The stable door was left unguarded and Y/N silently gestured Harry to follow her inside.

He’d been warned about winter nights in Isolde, but tonight was the first time he’d got to really experience it. He ran like his limbs didn’t belong to him, his body heat was fading, and he only had a fur coat which she’d brought for him to keep himself warm. They entered in silence and shut the stable door. It was warmer inside, and for a split second, Harry actually considered staying instead of running away.

Anxiety intensified when he saw Y/N walk toward the most beautiful yet intimidating black horse he’d ever seen. He was about to warn her about what these animals could do if they got angry, but the horse’s reaction to seeing Y/N was the opposite of what Harry had expected. The gelding reared his front legs upward, happily nickering at her.

“A friendly and handsome fellow.” Harry tiptoed nearer and declared, “I’m getting this one.”

“You’re not getting this one. He’s mine,” she scolded him under her breath while petting the animal. “His name is Thunder. He’s nicer than he looks.”

“I guess this is the princess’ horse?”

“It’s Prince Egon’s actually,” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Thunder was mistreated a lot. He was trained like a warhorse but he’s actually a sweetheart.”

“He likes you.”

“I’m very likeable, that’s a fact.”

Her response made him chuckle. “I love the confidence, Peach.”

“Do not call me Peach.”

“Peach sounds better than your fake name.”

Y/N widened her eyes at him, her jaw fell slack. “Rain isn’t a fake name!”

“Oh please, who would name their child after drops of water from the sky?”

“Um, my mother? That was rude.”

Thunder seemed to have taken a side as he flattened his ears backwards and snored at Harry.

“Okay, fine, I’m sorry.” He scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Thunder is yours. Which one can I get then?”

“That’s Lonely,” she said, pointing to a skinny white horse lying in the corner. If her tail wasn’t moving, Harry would’ve thought she was dead.

With a smirk, Y/N said, “Lonely is going to die pretty soon so you’ll do her a huge favour by taking her on an adventure.”

“Okay, first of all, naming a horse Lonely is basically animal abuse,” he said as she tried not to laugh too loud. “Second of all, we don’t have time to fool around. Do you want to die, Peach?”

“Oh, so it’s fine when you fool around but when it’s me...”

“You’re supposed to be the quiet and grumpy character and I’m the charismatic and funny one. Have you not read those stories about two people going on an adventure?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at his nonsense and turned away to get Thunder out of his stall. “You take the brown one in the corner,” she told Harry.

He excitedly punched the air and rushed toward his new friend to release her. “Hello, my name is Harry. What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Lightning.”

Y/N’s answer made Harry chuckle, but then he saw the look on her face and realised she was serious. “Wow, you Northern people really hate normal names, huh?”

“We just don’t want to share the same name with thousands of others. I mean, Harry?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her, nodding slowly. “Good point.”

They proceeded to put saddles on Thunder and Lightning before leading them out of the stable, trying to be as discreet as they could. These royal horses were very cooperative, probably because they somehow understood that they were on a mission to get two people out of the castle safely; or maybe they were so close to Y/N that they were willing to do anything for her.

Harry didn’t know much about the servants in the castle, but it made no sense to him that they would let a maid spend that much time with the royal horses, let alone teach them how to put a saddle on one.

“Do you even know how to ride a horse?” he asked and received a smirk from the girl.

“Do you?”

Right when he opened his mouth to answer, Y/N hopped onto Thunder’s back and rode in circles around him and Lightning. He was amazed for a second, but then he saw the sword strapped to her waist and was reminded of those guards she’d injured.

Of course she can also ride a horse. Who is this girl?

“Don’t be so surprised.” She scoffed at the look on his face. “Every servant in the castle knows how to ride a horse, use a sword, and do archery.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Y/N mocked as Thunder stopped in front of Harry, rearing his front legs as if he wanted to kick the man in the face. “Is the brave Southern man intimidated by a fragile Northern maid?”

Harry breathed out a laugh, letting her remark slide as he mounted his horse. The snow had begun to fall. The flakes were dancing in the moonlight, a beautiful dance choreographed by the wind, and Harry suddenly caught himself staring at the girl for a little too long.

For his entire life, he had never been shaken by a beauty other than his Kenny. But at that very moment, when the snow landed on her fur coat and her cheeks turned almost as pink as the colour of her lips, Harry felt something he had never felt before.

This girl was truly beautiful. If a maid could look like this, then how much more stunning was the princess of Isolde?

“Oh no!” Y/N’s voice pulled Harry back to reality. He heard the distinct sound of horses running toward the stable and caught the alarmed look on her face.

“Ride!” she yelled, digging her heels into the sides of her horse and the gelding leapt forward, galloping toward the gatehouse.

Harry was racing along by her side. They didn’t know who was after them, but they didn’t look back nor slow down because those people were all capable of killing.

“Close the gate!”

“No, do not close the gate!” Harry shouted in terror as he saw the portcullis being lowered. “There’s no way we’re gonna make it, Peach!”

“Do you always talk this much?!”

“Only when I’m in danger!”

Y/N bit her lip and rode even faster. Harry didn’t know if she was really sure they weren’t going to die or she was really good at hiding her fear, whatever it was, it worked. He trusted her.

Their horses pranced ahead and tore out the great clods of snow which flew behind them, and in a split second, they flew through the portcullis, completely unharmed.

Harry snapped back to reality as they rode into the forest outside the castle. The colour had drained out of his face when he looked to the right to see her. Both of them were shaking.

“Did we just--”

“No, we’re actually dead. We’re riding to hell,” Y/N joked, tossing her head back and laughing aloud. Their laughter broke the silence of the woods, echoing within these rocks and trees and bringing this sad wintry land back to life.

Once they were sure they weren’t being followed anymore, they slowed down and stopped to navigate.

“We’re on the right path,” Harry said as he looked around. “If we keep following this trail, we’ll cross that mountain tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night? But it looks so close from here.” Y/N’s face scrunched up as she squinted her eyes at the mountain peeking out of the woods.

Harry looked at her and chortled. “You don’t go out much, do you?”

“I grew up in the castle and I followed the princess wherever she went, and you know, the princess rarely leaves the castle.”

“Poor thing.” He pouted, making her roll her eyes. “Anyway, thank you for your service, darling. From now on, you follow me and you’ll be safe.”

“I doubt that. You were screaming when you thought you were going to die.”

“I said ‘from now on’.” Smirking, he kicked his horse and bolted ahead. She immediately followed.

.

.

.

“You let him escape? Are you telling me the best archers in the kingdom could not take down a clown on a horse?!”

The poor guard immediately dropped down on his knees in front of Egon. He was trembling in fear and well aware of the consequences when he was asked to see the prince.

“He was with the princess, Your Highness. We couldn’t risk hurting Princess Y/N.”

Egon let out a wry laugh, slowly shaking his head. “Princess Y/N?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The man swallowed. “Princess Y/N...injured our men to release the prisoner from his cell. They stole two of our horses and...and were headed into the North forest...”

“Idiot!” Egon smacked the man across the face. He collapsed onto the floor. Without waiting for him to get back up, Egon dropped down on his knees, took out the knife strapped to his waist and put it to the guard’s throat.

“You think I care about that whore?” he said, adding just enough pressure on the blade to cause pain but not to make the man bleed. “She ran away with a murderer, which made her a traitor and a criminal as well. Now she’s dangerous.”

“Your Highness, p-please--”

“Dangerous?”

Egon shot his eyes to the entrance where the female voice had come from and let the man go when he saw Jo coming in.

He stood back up, putting his knife away. “What did I say about interrupting me?”

The maid ignored the question and walked straight toward him. “Y/N is not dangerous. You got rid of her. Wasn’t that what you wanted?” she said, making him freeze for a moment.

The guard was perplexed when Egon told him to get lost, but he ran as fast as he could before the prince changed his mind. The door fell shut once again, sending the room back to silence. Jo took a deep breath. Her eyes followed Egon as he walked toward the fireplace. His features were illuminated by the flickering light, the only one in the room.

Jo waited for him to say something, but as he glanced back up to meet her eyes, she knew he wasn’t going to.

“Y/N is gone. Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes, it was,” Egon breathed as he raised a finger. “But she should’ve left Isolde with you, not a prisoner who slaughtered two guards!”

“I--”

“The original plan was you fucking Kavan Gennady and blaming him for taking advantage of you, and then convincing Y/N to run away with you so she wouldn’t have to marry him.”

Jo swallowed, trying to look unfazed to hide the fact that she was scared. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference,” Egon raised his voice suddenly, “is that if she had run away with you, you would make sure she stayed far away from Isolde. But now she’s heading to Theros with a Southerner as her guide and will most likely return with Edgar’s army.”

“Y/N would never invade Isolde.”

“Only if she didn’t find out about the prophecy.”

“The prophecy?” Jo furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

Egon let out a breathy laugh as he flopped down on a chair by the fireplace. “Our beloved father believes in a stupid prophecy that said I would destroy his kingdom if I was to be King, and my sweet little sister would be his only hope. So he planned to marry her off to this prince and let her rule the kingdom with him. Kavan Gennady is the one who’s going to be your new king, not me.”

Jo gasped and covered her mouth, but Egon didn’t even bother to look at her. He clenched his jaw and said bitterly, “a fool from the West ruling the North with a whore as his queen. What would the fate of this kingdom be?”

“But…” Jo uttered as she took the courage to take a step forward. “The king is going to die soon, just make sure Y/N stays gone until then and you’ll become the rightful king. The people of Isolde won’t accept an invader as their queen and Y/N knows that so she’ll stay away.”

“Well, as long as she’s still alive, we cannot make sure that she stays gone.”

“No! Please!” Jo dropped down on her knees and grabbed Egon’s hand. “Please don’t hurt Y/N. She’s harmless. I know her.”

“Let’s pray my men will bring her back alive then.” He pulled his hand away and cupped her jaw, tilting her face upwards. “And you better keep your pretty mouth shut. If I find out that baby isn’t mine, or if it’s a she, then you won’t be alive to see the girl you love again. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Good.”

The dancing flames reflecting in his dark eyes made him look more like the devil than a prince. But Jo, just like everyone in this castle, could never tell the difference.

The snow was falling thicker and harder outside the window by the fireplace. There was about to be another snowstorm tonight, and Jo could only pray that Y/N was safe, wherever she was.

.

.

.

“We have to stop, Peach! A snowstorm is coming!”

Y/N raised a gloved hand to shield her eyes as she looked back, desperately searching for Harry and Lightning. The sun had just come up not so long ago, but now it was as dark as night and the snow was angrily swirling around her as if wanting to swallow her whole. She wanted to tell Harry to stay calm and just keep on going, but she was too familiar with this kind of storm to risk their lives for her impatience.

Finding shelter was a matter of life and death at this point, and Thunder seemed to understand that so he ignored her command and galloped ahead, following his own instinct.

“Over here, Harry! There’s a cave! Thunder found a cave!” Y/N shouted loudly, waving her hands in the air even though she couldn’t see Harry and Lightning anywhere. But thanks to his horse, Harry had managed to find her and the cave which was obscured by snow-covered trees.

It was dark inside. The more they entered, the more they became engulfed in chilling blackness. Y/N got off Thunder and settled down on a large rock, hugging herself while shivering. The cave was no warmer inside than out. The absence of light meant the absence of warmth, and her body heat was slowly being sucked away by the cold air. Her throat was aching from thirst and her teeth were chattering.

As if Harry could read her mind, he handed her a bottle and said, “drink this.”

“Where...Where did you get that?”

“From a dead guard.”

His reply made her frown. “They weren’t dead. We didn’t kill them.”

“Is that what you tell yourself at night?” He chuckled and nudged her cheek with the bottle.

Y/N hesitated for a second and eventually grabbed it and took a sip. Her face twisted as the unfamiliar taste bit her tongue.

“This isn’t water!” she cried out, making Harry cackle.

“Wine.” He gave a shrug, grinning when her mouth fell open.

“I can’t drink wine!”

“Why not?”

“I’ll get drunk.”

“You won’t.”

“I will.”

“Then stay thirsty.”

Just like that, he turned his back to her. He left her sitting there to go find more dry sticks so he could build a fire, but when he came back, the bottle which had been nearly full at the beginning was now half empty.

“Did you spill it or drink it?”

She held his questioning gaze and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Getting drunk sounds like a better idea than dying of thirst.”

He lifted an eyebrow, looking amused. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll do something to you if you get too drunk and pass out?”

“You won’t,” she said, to his surprise.

“How are you so sure that I won’t?”

“Because I trust you.”

The way his lips parted and his eyes widened made her giggle. She was blushing harder than before and so he knew it wasn’t only because she was cold. She wasn’t joking when she said she’d get drunk.

“If you wanted to do something to me, you would’ve done it already,” she said, about to pick up the bottle again but he was quick to move it out of her reach.

“Enough for you, young lady. The rest is for me,” he said, pressing his chapped lips into a soft smile.

.

.

.

Lucky for them, Harry knew how to build a fire. Y/N had asked him to teach her, but his complicated instructions had got her frustrated so she gave up and said, “now I have to keep you alive until we get out of Isolde.”

“I can’t believe you brought me on this trip just to make fire for you,” he joked and she burst out laughing.

“I fight the bad guys. You make fire. That’s how it works.”

“My masculinity is offended.” Harry huffed as he ran his fingers through his long hair. “But fine. Now I’ve got a bodyguard. Peach, the bodyguard.”

They both dissolved into laughter as she gave his shoulder a playful push and he pretended to fall backward, groaning in pain.

Once the laughter had faded out, the atmosphere was weighed down immediately and silence sank right back in. The pair sat side by side, silently watching the flames dancing on top of the pile of woods.

The flickering light slowly hypnotized the princess, but as the heat melted the snow on her clothes, she began to feel the discomfort when water soaked into her shirt, pants and undergarments. She was wearing more layers than him, and so she started sweating and shifting on the rock.

“You’re wearing too much,” Harry said suddenly, making her cheeks turn even redder.

“Are you telling me to get naked?”

“Would you prefer wearing wet clothes then?”

She shot him a glare, but she thought he’d got a good point. She had tried to ignore it but the longer she sat there, the more irritating it got. She just wanted to rip all her clothes off and toss them into the fire.

“Just do it,” he encouraged her. “I’ll look away for you to strip. You can cover yourself up with the cloak I stole from the same dead guard.”

“How?!” Her eyes went round when he pulled out the cloak from her own satchel. “I didn’t even see you take it, let alone put it in my bag!”

“That’s called talent, darling. Get used to it when you’re with me.”

She rolled her eyes at the reply and said, “will you swear that you won’t look?”

“Didn’t you say you trusted me?”

“Yes, but all men would stare at a woman’s naked body if given a chance.”

“Not this man.” He said and pointed a thumb to himself. “I already have a--”

“A lover back home,” she finished the sentence for him and sighed. “Fine. Look away. Cover your eyes too.”

“Hey, I have a question,” Harry said, now sitting with his back turned to her and his eyes covered with both hands.

Y/N let out a hum to give him permission to ask.

“How did you meet your lover if you’d spent all your life in the castle? Did the two of you meet in the castle and later on get separated or something?”

“He’s actually my uncle.”

Her response froze him to the spot. He nervously cleared his throat. “Wow, I don’t want to judge anyone but--”

“No! God, no!” Y/N exclaimed, laughing out loud. “I meant to say that it wasn’t my lover that I was going to see. It’s my uncle. I lied just so you would relate to my situation and agree to help me.”

“Smart,” was all Harry said as he released a laugh.

Y/N paused for a second before she continued, “my uncle is the only family member I’ve got left. I used to have my mum but she died four years ago.”

Harry didn’t expect to hear that, and even though he couldn’t see her expression, he could imagine how sad she was just from the sound of her voice.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask her why she’d stolen from the princess for she seemed softer inside than she was on the outside. But on second thought, it was never a good idea to dive too deep into someone’s past.

“You can turn around now,” she told him, and he finally took his hands off his eyes and turned back to her.

She was sitting down with the black cloak wrapped around herself, hiding her entire body and leaving only her head visible.

“So you’re really naked under that thing?”

She gasped and poked her hand out of the cloak to punch his arm, making him crack up.

“My turn,” she said. “I have a question for you.”

“Go on.”

“Do you have a family?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded as he folded his arms on top of his knees. “My dad died last year, now it’s just my mum and sister.”

“And your lover.”

“She’s not yet my family.”

“But she will be, right? When you marry her.”

“I guess so.” He shrugged, giving her a smile. “We’ve been friends since we were little. It was my dream to marry her when I grew up, and I will if we make it back to Theros.”

If we make it back to Theros, she replayed those words twice in her head and decided to try to forget about them.

“So she’s your betrothed?”

“What did you just say?”

“Betrothed,” Y/N repeated the word, beaming. “You know, it means--”

“The person you’ll marry,” he said, staring at her attentively. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, only because she didn’t know he was having flashbacks. For a second he thought he’d recognized her, that look on her face, those eyes. Could this be--

His thought was interrupted when a strong wind blew into the cave and put out the fire, causing Y/N to scream and cling onto him, her face buried into his chest.

“It’s just wind,” he said with a light chuckle. “Since when did you get scared of anything?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured like a scared little girl. Because right now, she was a scared little girl.

While sitting in front of the fire, she had recalled those nights by the fireplace with her mother, and she had allowed herself to put down her guard. But reality had set back in when the fire went out, and she remembered that they were still in that cave, now surrounded by complete darkness.

“Can you build another fire?” she asked without releasing his arm.

But he didn’t push her away nor ask her to let him go. Calmly, he said, “why don’t you get some rest? I’ll need to find more wood and I’ll build another one.”

“Wait!” She gripped his arm when he attempted to get up. “Can you stay with me until I fall asleep and then get the wood later?”

She didn’t want to ask him for something like this, but she desperately needed to rest for a few moments.

“Sure,” Harry said, patting her on the back.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled as she secured the cloak around herself and then snuggled into his arms like she would with her mother when she was a kid. When her eyes fell shut, she dozed off immediately.

.

.

.

It was around noon when they woke up. The birds were chirping outside as if there had never been a storm.

Y/N was the first to open her eyes. Her limbs were aching, probably from riding Thunder through the blizzard. But something felt strange. Why did her body feel so light? And why was the ground warm and...moving?

No, she wasn’t lying on the ground. She was lying on top of Harry. Her cloak had been discarded in her sleep. He was still fully clothed but she was completely naked on top of him. Her entire body stiffened as she was too shocked to react, but then she felt his gloved hand on her lower back moving down to her buttock so she pushed herself right off him.

Harry’s eyes shot opened and he screamed when he saw Y/N’s naked body. He jolted up. She quickly picked up her clothes and covered her front as fast as possible.

“Why are you naked?!” He turned away, holding his head with both hands as if trying to figure out if he’d done anything to her that he didn’t remember.

No, he didn’t, she thought. He still had his clothes on and the bottle hadn’t been touched. He wasn’t drunk. Wait, where’s my cloak?!

Y/N frantically looked around and her eyes stopped at Thunder, who was standing in a corner with a black cloak covering his back.

“Really, Thunder?!” she raised her voice, causing Harry to snap his head to look at the horse.

“Did he steal your cloak to keep himself warm?” he said, trying not to laugh, but she couldn’t blame him for finding this funny.

“Apparently so.” She rolled her eyes and Thunder nickered at her in response.

“Don’t worry, I only saw your breasts,” Harry said, making her jaw drop.

“How is that supposed to make me feel anything but worry, Harry?!”

The corners of Harry’s mouth quirked up as he got on his feet and turned away without being asked to.

“Eyes,” she reminded him, making him chuckle and bring his hands up.

“Covered.”

“Thank you.”

She quickly put her clothes back on, mentally cursing at herself, Thunder and Harry too. Once she was done, she cleared her throat to give him permission to turn around.

With a big smile on his face, he eyed her from head to toes, making her feel even more naked than before. She had never fallen asleep with a man let alone while she was naked! Another first for her, but this one was certainly not an achievement.

“I’m sorry about that.” She looked down at her feet to avoid eye contact with him. The blood was rising up to her face and she knew Harry was dying to make another joke about the nickname Peach. But he didn’t. He only laughed.

“You were really...smooth and soft. Like a human pillow.”

The comment earned him a death glare.

“That was a compliment.”

“I will break your neck.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Calm down, lady!” He took a step back as she stepped forward. “I only caught a glimpse of your breasts and nothing else below the waist. I swear on my life.”

“Why are you so calm?” she asked, crossing her arms and watching him put his fur coat back on.

“Because I’ve seen the female body plenty of times before?”

“So you’ve been unfaithful to your lover then.” Y/N stuck her nose up and furrowed her brows. “You said you’d known her since you were small. She should be the only female body you’ve seen if you two are brave enough to lie with each other before marriage.”

“Who raised you? The nuns?”

“Decent and educated people, actually. Were you raised by monkeys?”

Harry rolled his eyes as he strapped the sword back to his waist. “We were best friends before lovers. I’d been with other women before her but no one since her. Kenny is going to be my wife so...”

“Kenny?”

“Ugh, why did I tell you her name? Now you’re going to think you’re my friend.” He tossed his head back and smacked his forehead. But Y/N didn’t react, she was just gawking at him.

“I think I’ve heard that name before,” she whispered but it was loud enough for him to hear.

He looked at her funny. “Are you about to make another joke about how Southerners have basic names? Because the name Kenny is pretty unique.”

“That’s why it’s strange. It’s unique but I’ve definitely heard it before.”

“Then it must have been someone else because Kenny has never been out of Theros.” Harry scoffed as he picked up Y/N’s sword and tossed it to her. She caught it effortlessly, earning a smirk from him.

“Let’s go,” he said but covered his mouth so he wouldn’t laugh out loud.

“Stop thinking about it!”

“What? Your breasts?”

“And stop saying that word! God, what is wrong with you?!” She stomped her foot and followed him to where their horses were waiting. Embarrassed, she took the cloak off Thunder’s back and put it away as fast as she could, but she knew Harry would never let it go.

“Your nickname has a whole new meaning now, Peach.”

“One more word and I will cut your throat in your sleep. Got it?”

With a smirk, he locked his lips with an invisible key and tossed it over his shoulder. Y/N rolled her eyes at him and turned back to her horse. This is going to be a long trip, she told herself.

[reeesea]

Something Sweet: Part Two

~sweet lotus~

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

pairing: minsung, jisung/minho

warning: mentions of alcohol I guess...

words: 5k ish

summary: Jisung gets side tracked and ends up following Minho into a host club/bar. That's it really :)

a/n: I’m cross posting this on ao3 but don't know how links work so I hope you enjoy if you do happen to stumble upon this. <3

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

Jisung’s been busy. Well, kind of. 

Jisung, along with the other two sleep deprived zombies that make up 3racha, have once again barricaded themselves in their shared apartment. The trio has been working nonstop to prepare for their next performance. Their recently hired manager, Sana, had notified them that the venue that they were playing was actually twice as large as their last. The boys had been trying to flesh out a few new songs/covers to play and hopefully win over the crowd.

Busy wouldn’t really describe the boys. Yes, they were working hard producing more and more, but the lulls of writer’s block and exhaustion would set in eventually. Each time would leave them to fend for themselves by staring mindlessly at the ceiling, or collapsing into an unplanned 4 hour nap, or just plain gorging themselves on the various carry outs of the day. 

Changbin, who surprisingly was able to work remotely for his producing job at JJP Ent., was juggling his work for them and his work for 3racha. Bin would sneak out of his studio/bedroom whenever the lull in creativity set in, or the anticipation of their Friday night show started creeping up on him. Almost every time this led to Chan or Jisung playing some of what they were working on and then the realization that the third rapper had joined them, neglecting his paid work, would set in commencing the throwing of shoes and a chorus of animated yells from all parties to arise. One way or another, always returning a reluctant Changbin back to his, as Jisung put it, “big boy work” and the other two back to their respective laptops and keyboards. 

Chan was probably the most focused of the three. His ability to juggle multiple projects at the same time was practically god-like and occasionally left the other two producers completely clueless as to which project he was actually working on. When the exhaustion had finally caught up with him, Chan could be found by the other boys asleep sitting in front of his laptop. Changbin and Jisung had worked out a little system to keep the older in check, taking turns moving an unconscious Bang Chan to the couch and making sure he had eaten before returning to their own assignments. The leader would wake up a few hours later feeling confused, but thankful for the other two's efforts to keep him on his feet. 

Jisung, the ever all-rounder of the group, usually was the one busy writing, composing, producing, and doing anything he could get his hands on. But this time, the main reason Jisung never quite felt busy was because no matter how hard he tried, sometimes he just couldn't quite find the words for his verses. The new addition to their set list actually didn't take much time to make, production wise, but writing his verse always turns out to be a challenge when the writer’s block sets in. Even with days straight of thinking about what he wanted to say on his part, no progress meant no work had been done, which to Jisung meant he had not been busy. It was a slippery slope that all of them had experienced before, but this time Jisung’s descent down that slope came in the form of trashing pages of lyrics and stanzas immediately after spending hours on them, and distracting himself in piles of blankets while scrolling forums, SNS, and internet videos for inspiration. From which the cycle continued. The concept of just freestyling it completely on Friday was starting to sound better and better.

Sana would occasionally come by (daily? None of them really knew what day it was, only that it wasn’t Friday yet), opening up the black-out curtains that lined the floor to ceiling windows of the apartment, always followed by at least one audible groan from one of the members. During one of the many occasions of Jisung staring blankly at the ceiling in the dark, Sana had entered the apartment and practically tripped over Jisung from where he was curled up on the floor in a blanket chimichanga, “Jisung-ssi, why are you on the floor, again. Its literally 3pm.”

Jisung liked to call them chimichangas, mostly because he really liked that it was a four syllable word, but it also described him best when he was in a blanket burrito feeling especially fried from exhaustion.

After tripping over Jisung for maybe the third time that week, Sana had left the apartment telling them to be sure to be ready for their performance tomorrow at five pm, when she would meet them at the venue. Although Jisung was the one currently rolled up on the floor, the other boys had somehow looked even more exhausted on the couch with emptied coffee cups in their hands and obvious dark circles under their eyes. They had finished in the early morning as always, trying their best to prepare for their performance, that apparently was tomorrow. That was news to Jisung, and still nothing written for his verse.

“You guys look so dead, how are you even awake right now” Jisung mused from his bundle on the floor. 

“I honestly don't know. Do you think I could just go to sleep until our performance tomorrow?” Chan chuckled at the realization that their call time wasn't more than 17 hrs away. 

“Honestly you need it, with how much you got done this week. You finished almost all the tracks for the album, right?” Changbin asked from his spot on the couch. Chan nods vaguely at the question . 

“Yeah out of the songs we chose, I was able to brush them up, and fixed the beat on a few. We can look at them closer after Friday.”

“This week didn't seem real. The last thing I remember was dragging Chan’s unconscious body down the hallway after we got back from Menu 98.” Jisung was gesturing wildly beneath the blanket he was under, but the other two didn't have to even look at him to know he was being dramatic. “Bin-hyung it took you like 3 whole minutes to put the right key in the door. I'm glad your attempts with the bottle opener didn’t end up damaging the lock.” 

That one earned Jisung a pillow to the face. 

“Well hopefully this Friday we won't end up in the same condition. Wine hangovers are the fucking worst,” Changbin held his head in remembrance of the pain but a smile was starting to sneak out on to his face. “But guys, since we’re finally officially signed with a company, I wouldn't mind getting to celebrate again this weekend.” 

His smile only grew as the other two joined in the grinning from their respective spots in the living room. It was true, they finally signed with a company. JJP Entertainment had reached out to them after having seen them perform one of their shows. Changbin had submitted a producer application to the company earlier that year, and seemingly as soon as they had seen the three in action all of them were accepted and got to sign with the agency. Changbin had begun working as a producer about a month ago while the other two had just recently been officially signed into the company as group members. To all of them it still seemed like it was too good to be true, but a week into it they were all just excited to be calling themselves recording artists and to have consistent pay for their professional work. 

Their manager Sana was a result of the company beginning to help promote 3racha as a group. Chan had mentioned that they weren’t going to be officially announced as a part of the company until they could properly debut with their album. Jisung wasn't going to complain though, he was just happy to feel like the dreams they’ve had since their underground highschool rapper days were finally being realized. 

All three of them, grinning wildly, were already feeling antsy to be on stage again. The hours until they could step onstage couldn't move fast enough.  

---

Minho had a busy fucking week.

 He had picked up two extra closing shifts that he usually would have days off on, but the reward of a bigger paycheck pulled his leg into accepting to take them. The bright side, he supposed, was that his coworker had taken his Friday shift and he was able to have a night off. His original plan to spend the entire night in the studio was pretty much shattered when his annoyingly loving roommates had scolded him when he had told them his plans. During morning rehearsal the group was able to get a lot done, and had polished their performance piece they had planned for a showcase in the coming week.

Minho told himself that he would have still stayed after practice if it wasn't for Hyunjin’s nagging to visit him at work that night, but he was packing his bag just as soon as the others once they were finished.The truth being that going to Hyunjin’s work almost always included free drinks and good company, and Minho felt like it would be the perfect way to relax his nerves after the week of productive practice, and painful working shifts. 

Hyunjin worked at the host club and bar a couple streets away from their apartment. The establishment was mostly known for the beautiful and handsome hosts and hostesses that worked there who served up drinks and polite conversation. In the more recent years, the place was becoming popularly known as being just a normal service bar that just had beautiful servers and bartenders. Many tourists and locals came to the bar in hopes of seeing and meeting these beautiful people, while also obtaining their weekend quota of alcohol. Of course as Hyunjin could attest to the host club wasnt without clients, as his boss asked him multiple times if he wanted to switch positions from bartender to host due to all the patrons asking if he was available.

“Come on Hyung! You can come and meet my new coworkers. Also you promised to visit Momo-noona last time and she’s still pissed you haven’t been back in like a month. Honestly at this point she wont stop worrying that you aren’t coming back to see her, and keeps asking me like-” 

“Okay, okay Hyunjin I’ll come with you, just stop rambling,” Minho giggled at the younger antics and his tendency to ramble to himself aloud, while in a conversation. It was reasons like this that made Minho glad the boy was only a bartender and not a host. Although, he would probably pay himself just to see the young 21-year-old try and make coherent conversation with a client. Hyunjin was beyond just beautiful, but when it came to conversing with strangers past their drink order, he was quite a bit less than suave. 

Hyunjin cheered as he skipped out the studio doors, joining arms with Felix as they made their way toward their shared apartment. 

---

Jisung left their flat early in hopes of being able to find the venue on his own, but still allow himself time to properly get lost. Surprisingly enough he was able to find the venue on the other side of town without much trouble and with Google Maps opened on his phone. One of the  reasons why it was so easy to find, was that the venue was huge. Among the lavish entrance, and its multicolored lighting, it had a large marquee with “3racha” shown in bold as the night's act. It was still the early evening and the district’s businesses were just starting to show signs of preparation for the night's patrons and customers. There were food stalls setting up, readily pre-cooking the batches of street food for those who would be passing by throughout the night. Clubs were just beginning to open their doors and prepare for the crowd that always came to dance away the start of the weekend. The bars were beginning to gather their additional servers and bartenders, from the looks of the various uniformed strangers on the street entering their respective places of employment. There were a few barhopping adults and students littering the streets with excited chatter and giggles of anticipation. 

Jisung can’t say he ever went out with friends much other than when the group would perform at bars and clubs right out of high school. He never had experienced the “wild night out with your friends” trope that he secretly loved watching in dramas and tv shows. There was just something watching a group of friends all going and enjoying a night together that made Jisung’s heart smile. Looking around again and escaping his thoughts, he spots a familiar face in the distance. 

In front of him is his cute server from last week, Minho, walking down the street not even 50ft away. Granted Jisung had honestly forgotten about the man after that night, as the dull ache of a hangover had occupied his mind the morning after. Jisung never thought he would actually see the man again outside the confines of the restaurant that he worked at. And maybe because this coincidence felt more like fate, and maybe because Jisung is the kind of guy to believe in fate, or maybe because Minho had smiled and from 50 ft away it still took Jisung’s breath away, Jisung found himself stumbling forward to follow the man into the bar he had just entered. 

--- 

Minho had walked into the familiar establishment and immediately went and found his place on a barstool. 

“You didn't have to come this early.” Hyunjin was all dressed up in his collared shirt and vest, with his name tag reflecting the dim lights from above his heart. The completed uniform of all the bartenders and servers at Sweet Lotus, of course, made Hyunjin look even more like a prince than usual. 

It was barely 15 minutes after the bar had opened for the night when Minho’s leather pants and silk shirt wearing ass had entered. 

“Well, it's not like I had any other plans tonight. Felix had left for work and it was too lonely in the apartment to wait for the bar hopping crowd to pass through, so I thought I would just beat them instead.” 

“I knew you missed me.” Hyunjin made a kissy face toward Minho that was met with a gentle face slap by the hand of the older. 

“Please, I only came to get an early start on the night. Maybe try and beat the in house record for free drinks.”

“Oh please you already know you still hold the record, don't act cocky” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, and earned a giggle from the other. There was a running competition between the off duty servers and hosts of who could get the most free drinks from strangers in a night. It was a vanity competition as much as it was a ploy for the employees to boost the bar's sales when off shift. 

Minho thrived off of it, when he had worked as a host for the club. He had been in the highest demand on and off duty, gathering a total 19 drinks paid for by strangers within a single night. Even after Minho had left the club, his record still held. Hyunjin would sometimes come home updating Minho on how close some of his new coworkers had gotten to the record, well aware of how much the title inflated the man’s ego. 

Before Minho had the chance to respond a tuft of brown hair tripped into the bar entrance. A familiar looking boy with big shining eyes, searched the room until making eye contact with Minho. The determined look in the boy’s eyes was completely contrasted by the soft smile starting to appear on his lips as he approached the bar. 

Recognition flooded his memory as Minho looked back at the cute boy that had given him his number on a receipt the previous weekend. The boy struggled slightly at getting atop the stool next to Minho, earning him a slight snicker from the bartender as he watched the scenario play out in front of him. Hyunjin just watched his cocky ass roommate be made speechless by the entrance of a cute high school looking kid dressed in street clothes, there was no way he wasn't going to hound Minho when they got home. 

“Hi.” The younger looking boy smiled again fully creating a heart with his lips, and Minho couldn't help but smile back. That seemed to only make the younger grin wider if that was possible and his eyes sparkled with content. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I met you last week, I mean kind of. You were my server on Friday night, and you recommended a drink and a dish for me, and I’m pretty sure it was the best thing I had ever tasted before. And now that may seem like a completely crazy reason to low key follow you into a bar after seeing you on the street, but for some reason I feel indebted to you for giving me the best thing I’ve ever tasted also I’m pretty sure I was embarrass-”

“Hi Jisung,” Minho didn't know anyone else could ramble even more than Hyunjin, but here he was, Han Jisung, the cute boy in the pink hoodie who had given him his number and a tip that was quite a bit more than his 20% usual. In full honestly Minho had found the receipt a few times during the week in his work pants pocket, but had always returned it before considering actually dialling the number scrawled on it. 

“You don’t have to feel indebted to me, that’s all apart of my job…” A wave of guilt weighed on Minho as he made eye contact with Jisung again. “Also I apologize for never messaging you. I know you left me your number on Friday, and I usually don’t pay too much mind when customers give me their numbers, but for some reason I still kept yours.” Jisung’s eyes widened at that and his expression looked as if he had just realized something. 

Minho just continued, “To be completely honest, I didn't think I would see you again, especially outside of my work.” 

“I didn’t either,” Jisung quickly interjected. “And to also be totally honest, I completely forgot that I gave you my number. Tipsy me can be a little more bold than I thought.” He chuckled inwardly at himself. Looking at Minho now, Jisung had no idea how even tipsy he had found the balls to do something like that. In casual clothes, Minho looked god-like to Jisung, and something about the change in atmosphere made Customer Service Minho almost non-existent. Being able to look at Minho, his glittering sharp eyes, his perfectly styled hair, and breathtaking smile without any filters, and something about it made Jisung’s heart beat even louder. There was a slight pause as Jisung had stopped speaking and had got distracted with staring at all of Minho’s features. “Uh..um… anyway damn now I feel bad. Can I like buy you a drink or something to make up for it?” Jisung barely managed to stutter that out. 

“Hey Min-hyung, that's your first for the night, and it's not even five yet. Damn maybe you will break your record,” Jisung looked over to the voice's owner and seemed to have just acknowledged the presence of the bartender after entering.

“Shut up Jinnie, I don’t wanna make him pay for my drink, the sun’s not even set” 

“That hasn't stopped you before” 

“No I really mean it, I'll pay for your drink if you'll let me. Not really sure what you two are discussing but I don't have a problem paying, even just to mend my consciousness” Jisung pleaded. 

“You sure talk a lot with your wallet there, Han.” Hearing Minho using his last name to address him wasn't lost on Jisung. If anything Jisung was starting to take it as a challenge. 

“Well, let me buy you a drink and we can talk now because we didn't get the chance over the phone.” Jisung really wasn’t sure where that confidence came from but it diminished quickly as he held his breath waiting for Minho to respond.

Minho smirked and nodded agreement, ordering his drink. “What about for you?” the bartender asked Jisung as he was taking out his card to pay for said drink. 

“Oh nothing for me I have to get ready for a show soon,” squinting to read the man’s name tag “Hyunjin-ssi.” 

Minho's curiosities from the previous weekends returned, and he found himself jumping on the opportunity to learn more about the boy. They were just curiosities. Han Jisung was just a curiosity. “What is it you do exactly?” 

“Oh I’m a rapper in a group, with the two other guys you saw. Together were super cool rap trio 3racha~” Jisung put an emphasis on the name with excessive hand gestures. Minho thought they were cute. “And we're actually playing at the venue not too far from here. We’re on at 9 if you want to come watch.” Jisung smiles widely at that, cocking an eyebrow as if that was persuasion enough to get Minho to come. 

It was. “Maybe I’ll stop by then. I can’t say I’m not curious.” Minho tries his best to feign disinterest, but his roommate’s smirk from across the bar meant that he wasn’t completely successful. 

Minho glares at the bartender while Jisung continues the conversation. “So what was it that you were talking about? The record and all that, did I miss something?”

Hyunjin giggles at the question and puts on a dramatic voice, “Well, here at the Sweet Lotus even our employees will come on their off days and breaks to enjoy the bar and club as patrons, but of course flirting with coworkers is generally frowned upon, so we made up a fun little competition.” Hyunjin continues to explain what the casual competition entitles. Minho shifts to watching Jisung instead. Seeing the boy again had been somewhat of a shock, and now actually looking at him, something about Jisung made Minho’s heartbeat a little quicker. Probably just the beginning effects of the sip of alcohol he had yet to consume. Or it could be the way Minho kept thinking about how soft the boy looked, his cheeks, his hair, his smile. Jisung was cute. A cute curiosity

“So what’s the record then? The highest number of free drinks?” Jisung was asking both of them but had turned toward MInho to meet his eyes. They were full of stars, even when the rest of the place was dimly lit. 

“19 drinks in a single night, held by our very own Lee Minho. Making him the hottest guy to ever grace our establishment, at least by the objective body count” Hyunjin dramatically bows to him. 

“Hey I got 17 once” yelled the other bartender from further down the bar. 

“I better keep coming back then, so you can’t take my spot San-ah.” Minho responded and sent him a cheeky smirk. The other bartender responded with a pouty face and a groan, before turning back to another customer. “But technically I’m not an employee anymore, so I think that takes me out of the running,” Minho continues.

“Still, I don’t think you’d ever lose that title… n-no offense to any of the other employees. I mean I only just got here and have only seen a few of you, but you are all respectively very attractive, and-” 

“Jisung stop rambling.” Minho giggled at seeing how flustered he could make the other. “Plus I doubt I’d lose my spot if you have anything to do with it, Mr. rich boy rapstar.” Minho takes a sip of his drink as the other sputters once again into a bumbling mess, blushing even harder. 

“What noooo! Not me pshhhhhh. I am but a lowly underground rapper. Please my heart’s too fragile to handle being called a rapstar by you this early in the night, also I swear I’m not a rich boy! Not yet at least, I haven't even gotten my first paycheck, paycheck, you know?”

“Your tipping habits say otherwise” 

Jisung grumbles under his breath something that sounds like ‘damn it drunk jisungie you did it again’

Before the conversation could continue, Jisung's phone rings from his jacket pocket. “Hello?... AH Sana-noona please don't yell.... Yes I know what time it is. It is-” Jisung checks the clock on his phone “Five-Thirty! Fuck, I’m on the way” Jisung looks apologetically at Minho and Hyunjin and does a few hand gestures that indicate he has to go. “I'll be there in like 30 seconds, I swear!!!” 

Jisung hangs up and hops off his stool, “As you can see I am being forcefully summoned by my manager, I do hope you’ll come to the show later? Thanks for uh- I don’t know, why am I thanking you. But uh..Thanks anyway though, and I-uh hope we can do this again sometime… yeah, bye Minho.” Jisung smiles wide again and scurries out the door, almost at a full sprint. 

Minho really likes his cute smile, and tries to commit the heart shape to memory.

“Hyung, he’s sooo your type it practically hurts.” Hyunjin forms a cheeky look on his face.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Minho retorts, taking another sip of the drink Jisung bought him. 

“Come on, cute, low-key a mess, big eyes, whipped as soon as he saw you. Don't even lie, you love the ones that just fall for you as soon as you smile at them. Practically all your clients were like that, and they all followed you to the restaurant” 

“That’s not true,” Minho denied. 

“It's true our numbers dropped when you left. We had to hire three new guys to make up the loss,” San added, now suddenly a part of the conversation.

“Well now I feel bad,” he did kind of, but it also was a huge ego boost for Minho.

“Don't. You know Momo would let you pick up a shift if you ever needed” San now joining Hyunjin in leaning on the counter. 

“Maybe I don’t know, I'll just boost her drink sales tonight insead to make up for it.” They laugh, and Minho’s cocky smirk returns as more patrons enter the bar, and the two bartenders return to their positions for the night 

-----

Jisung sprinted right into hair and makeup, finding his group mates already being dressed and powdered when he got there. He was able to just barely avoid a scolding from Sana as he ducked into a changing room instead. Switching from his streetwear into something that made him look more like his stage personality ‘J.One’.

By the time it was up for them to perform all three of them shared knowing glances and charged on the stage as their loud and overpowering bass beats flooded the speakers and the entire venue. The venue itself held a couple hundred people and the cheers and energy from the crowd only fueled the rappers as they began their opening song. For the three of them being on stage was like getting a high. 

Jisung felt like he had taken 3 shots at the bar before the performance. He felt drunk on the adrenaline and his ad libs and verses all came out even more powerful than usual. Chan and Changbin took his energetic aura in stride and fed off him to energize their own performances for the whole show. 

When their new track finally starts playing, the verse that Jisung had been agonizing all week appeared in his head as if it had always been there, and he knew that this verse was going to go down as one of his best freestyles yet. Jisung closed out the song with an electric verse that flowed and hit the rhythm in ways he had never thought he could before, and after the last beat echoed throughout the room, the entire venue filled with cheers and screams from the audience. 

Minho watched from the back of the venue witnessing the three boys on stage completely dominate the stage and steal every heart from the audience. He never thought that the big eyed clutz from a few hours ago would be the man he saw on stage. On stage, Jisung practically oozed with charisma, demanding the attention of all those who would listen. At the end of the show the last verse he spit out was so intensely captivating, that it guaranteed that everyone in the audience was now in love with Han Jisung. There was no way anyone would be able to deny it. Not even Minho, even though he would definitely try. 

“I’m CB97” “This has been SpearB” “and I’ve been J.One” 

“and together we are 3racha! See you next time”

---

That night as soon as Minho got home he searched his closet for the only connection he had with the supposed rapstar. Digging into the pockets of his work pants, he pulls out the paper with the boys number and immediately adds in to his contacts before texting him:

[Rich Boy Han Jisung]

This is Lee Minho  

I saw your performance 

at least I think that was you

If it wasn't some rapstar named J.One may be your twin 

Im sure hear you this all the time

But your performance was amazing. Good job Han :)

---

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

[disregardcanon]

end of year writing meme

time for my end of year writing meme! this has been a tradition for me since 2015 or 16, so i’m excited to keep it up :) i normally do it ON new year’s eve because i write over winter break. but.

i have the depression/anxiety cocktail and have to go back to teaching next monday so i highly doubt i’ll get anything else written or posted by then. sigh

tagging @titaniumsansa @bodhimcbodeface and anyone else who wants to do it

Total Stories Written: 18 on ao3 19 completed total

Total Words Written: i know my ao3 stats are shifted p drastically this year because i updated two extensive drabble collections, but i do have more unposted drafts this year so i’ll just go with it. 96k Average Words Per Story: about 5k as the mean, which tracks Shortest Story: 370 words Heaven on Her Mind Longest: 11,875 words Academia Nuts

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?

less! i knew i’d write less this year than i have in the past because student teaching and then first year of teaching are both supposed to be hell, but i kind of expected going into quarantine that would give me the time and energy to write.

but NO! in some months of quarantine i wrote less than i did during student teaching, certified most stressful time of my life

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write most?

pairing: cassunzel! coming in clutch at 6 stories

genre: no fucking clue

fandom: tangled was the most by number, but i think jedi fallen order is the most by word count because those two fics combined come in about 13k

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? uh, that’s probably rwby. i always knew that when i watched rwby i’d go feral but i didn’t expect to watch it this year

Did you take any writing risks this year? i think my biggest writing risk was writing a 12k fic with romcom tropes about a platonic relationship no one cares about from a mainly dead fandom

Academia Nuts, the one where merlin and morgana are bickering in-laws and academic rivals

Do you have any fanfic or general writing goals for the new year? i would frankly just like the time and energy TO write. this year has been the most stressful and depressing time of my life and that’s reflected in my writing output. i would like to see more output because i have more energy and drive to do the things that make me happy again

From the past year of writing, what was your…

Best story of this year: the thing with feathers fluttering in her chest the jedi fallen order fic about trilla suduri capturing cal kestis but still eventually deciding to defect

Personal favorite: Smoke Rises, Cinder Falls my personal take on the cinder backstory before it dropped! while i definitely like where the show took the backstory better because the hotel imagery is TOP NOTCH i still love what i did here. i think that i made good use of style and the information that we had, and i think that the salem connection works very nicely

Most under-appreciated: i know calling a fic with 65 kudos “underrated” is a bit ridiculous, but this is for a very large fandom. it might be dead but i still think it could drum up a bit more support :(

Academia Nuts, the merlin and morgana are bickering in-laws and academic rivals fic

Most fun to write: as a reward for being so fucking happy that biden won the election for real, i rewarded myself by writing the pines family reacting to it

Remember, Remember the 7th of November

Story with the single sexiest moment: how about that inquisitor caltrilla au?

I Want You to Want Me

Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story: captive caresses, the one where the v shaped polyamory dynamic that i normally do with cassunzel and new dream isn’t so healthy

Most challenging to write: from a technical standpoint that would be academia nuts, but from a personal standpoint...

Scar Tissue, the steven universe fic about connie still keeping secrets from her parents

Biggest disappointment: frankly, nothing i wrote this year can be a disappointment because i put words on a page. however, i will say that i could have polished this one that i wrote years ago up more before i posted it

Holy Ground, the shireen/jeyne poole fic from like 2015

Favorite character to write: i didn’t get stuck on a fandom long enough to get a favorite character to write tbh

Favorite opening lines:

Sometimes, when Rapunzel wakes up in the morning, she likes to pretend that everything is alright. She closes her eyes and imagines that Cass is right down the hall, just like she used to be. Rapunzel will burst into her room as soon as she gets up, ready to plot some new mischief to keep them busy for the day. Cass will roll her eyes, but she’ll go along with it because she secretly enjoys Rapunzel’s plans. She’ll smile when Rapunzel isn’t looking, and she’ll call her Raps with a soft fondness that makes Rapunzel's heart melt.

Jeung

Sophie knows that she shouldn’t be walking home alone at this hour. Of course she knows that. She’s a tiny white girl who lives in Gotham with little self-defense training or experience in athletics. She’s had “don’t walk home alone” beaten into her head for so many years she wonders if those were the first words the nurse said when she came into this world.

 Not “it’s a girl!” but “don’t let her walk home alone at night!” 

Walk Me Home in the Dead of Night

Favorite closing lines:

“Follow me,” the fairy godmother ordered, taking a brisk step forward. Cinder followed without question, just a step behind. Following, following, following- just as she would be following her until the end of time. Cinder was her protege, after all, and must be prepared to take over the fairy godmother’s work someday.

That day would not come for many years, but it would come. And the fairy godmother would finally have everything  she ever wanted.

Smoke Rises, Cinder Falls

Trilla can’t exactly have her second-in-command stay that low in the hierarchy forever. A consort to a queen needs to walk only a few steps behind her, after all.

I Want You to Want Me

Other favorite lines:

She can lead a horse to independent thought, but she can’t make him think.

The Name Game

When Trilla gets back to her room, she grabs the damn cube and throws it against her wall as hard as she can. It doesn’t break, because the holocron is made of stronger stuff than that.  Cal Kestis  is made of stronger stuff than that.

Maybe she’s the only one in the world who’s so capable of shattering.

the thing with feathers fluttering in her chest

“You don’t have to forgive him,” Fuyumi says, “just don’t kill him.”

“Because he can’t come back from that?” Dabi demands, “a corpse can’t  decide that it wants to love its daughter, right?” Dabi watches as the  knife twists, and Fuyumi’s facade finally crumbles. She slams her mug of  tea down on the table, and they're both lucky that it's not full  anymore or the hot liquid would have come flying out.

Justice Without Dispassion

“But you’re a good trainer,” Lillie says, “you’re what I want to evolve into.” Selene shakes her head.

“We're  from different evolutionary lines,” she says, “you evolving into me  would be like- I don’t know. A Charmander evolving into a Blastoise.”  Lillie looks like she’s holding the fur even tighter, and Selene snakes  her hand underneath to disentangle Lillie’s hand from the fur and give  her something else to clutch. Lillie squeezes her hand like a stuffed  Jigglypuff that people carry around to squeeze away their stress.

“But  what if I’m stuck at Charmander forever, and what if Blastoise is  better than Charizard, and what if I’m just- just not cut out for this?”

Even Gods Like Cuddles

“Do you remember when we were really little,” you say, “and I used to  come over for dress up parties. I’d wear your extra princess dress, let  you do my hair however you wanted.” You smile, thinking about how cute  the pictures that Bianca’s mom took of you two looked. Your mother  always said that they’d be good blackmail material, someday, but-

It wasn’t ever shameful, especially not if your mother didn’t make you feel ashamed.

“Of  course,” Bianca says, “you were always the best at sitting still. No  one else would have let me do their nails and makeup.” You’re not  looking at her, but you can hear the soft smile in her voice.

“You were always so indulgent, Hils. I really appreciated that.”

“I wasn’t being indulgent,” you say, balling your hand into a little fist and rubbing your thumb over your knuckles.

“I always- I just,” you say, “I wanted to be that “girl friend” that you always wanted.”

Girl Talk

[lightwoodsmagic]

This year was the first time I wrote any fanfiction from the One Direction fandom, and I have loved every single stressful, chaotic, emotional second of it.

To everyone who has ever read my fics, given me support, and left me kudos and comments, thank you so, so much. I can’t even explain how much it means it me, and I’m so incredibly grateful.

Here are all the fics I wrote in 2019.

✨💐 The Lone Hydrangea

E • 77k • Harry/Louis • written for @potterdirectionficexchange

“Thank you again,” he smiled at Harry as he picked up the arrangement and headed towards the door, and Harry quickly realised he didn’t know the man’s name.

“I – wait! Sorry, I just...what’s your name?” At the man’s eyebrow raise, Harry stumbled over his words, “It’s just, if you’re coming back, I thought I should…know.”

As the man looked at Harry, his smile only grew, and Harry’s heart thumped in his chest.

“My name’s Louis. Louis Tomlinson, and it was so lovely to meet you,” he shot one final grin in Harry’s direction, “I’ll see you next week, Harry.” And then he was gone.

“It was lovely to meet you too,” Harry whispered to the empty shop, putting his head on the counter, “Louis”.

Or the post Hogwarts AU where Harry's a florist, Louis' a muggle who edits fantasy books, and they both have no say in how quickly they fall for each other.

🌞📸 Finally Their Time

NR • 4k • Harry/Louis

“I can’t believe you’re wearing this and it’s not just at home. We’re going to the Met Gala, Harry, and you’re wearing your wedding ring.”

Harry’s smile grew as his index finger and thumb twisted to play with the matching band on Louis’ left hand. “So are you.”

“Well, it’s kind of a matching set. Wouldn’t want to make you look foolish,” Louis teased. “Are you ready to see me now? ‘M dying to see you, if I’m honest.”

Harry took one last deep breath and squeezed Louis’ hands, dropping then as he took a step back. “Yeah, Lou. I’m ready.”

Or, Harry and Louis attend the Met Gala together, and suddenly the whole world knows.

🍆🥘 Impress Me

NR • 6k • Harry/Louis, side Zayn/Liam • written for @disneydirectionfest

“Everyone can cook, Harry, you just have to be taught by the right person,” Louis said, and Harry watched as he stood up and brushed the dirt off his arse.

“I don’t think you can teach what you just did, though,” Harry replied with a small laugh, grabbing the bowl and standing as well, “seems like more of a natural talent, if ‘m honest.”

Louis laughed, and Harry’s heart thumped in his chest. It was impossible to ignore how attractive Louis was, but he concentrated on listening when Louis spoke again. “Well if I can ever help somehow, let me know.”

“Maybe you can?” Harry said carefully, studying Louis’ facial expressions as he continued, “could you possibly tell me how to fix this?” He waved the bowl in his hand, chuckling when Louis grinned.

Or, Harry's a new chef who can't cook to save himself, but when he meets Louis, he learns more than he thought possible

🧵🛏 This is Somethin’ Real

NR • 6k • Zayn/Liam • written for Wanker’s Day fic fest

Zayn had felt it before, felt the hope and the possibility of something brewing, but where he usually pushed it down, he let it consume him now, let it take over everything until he was swinging his feet and grinning when Niall finally walked through the door.

“Lads!”

“Nialler!” Louis shouted, wrapping him up in a hug.

“How is everyo – woah, why are you so happy?” he asked Zayn, cackling when Zayn kicked out at him.

“He’s going to tell Payno he’s in love with him tonight, that’s why,” Louis explained, and Zayn saw Harry’s nose scrunch as he smiled.

📒 🦴 This Might Tickle

NR • 4k • Harry/Louis • part one of the Uni AU series • written for @wordplayfics

“You could say that. Oh, by the way, green eyes is staring at you again.”

Louis’ head snapped up so quickly his neck cracked, his fingers freezing where they rested against the keys. His eyes flitted quickly around the room before coming to rest somewhere to his left.

There he was, staring directly at Louis with a straw between his lips. The beautiful man that had happened to seemingly appear everywhere Louis had been for all of last semester until chocolate coloured curls contained by soft buns, bright patterned shirts, and green eyes had seemed to follow Louis even as he slept.

Or, Louis' been admiring Harry from afar until they become study partners for their first year anatomy class.

📕🦉 When You Smile

GA • 2k • Zayn/Liam • part two of the Uni AU series • written for @wordplayfics

Liam shifted his body slightly to get more comfortable, angling towards Zayn just in time to see Zayn duck his head down, his hands still outstretched, the shirt covering his bare skin. He could see the curl of his lips from where he was sitting, the beginnings of a smile, and he bolted upright; it was finally happening. Liam was finally going to get to see Zayn Malik smile.

Death in an aviary. Louis would approve.

Or, Liam’s never seen Zayn smile during classes, but a trip to the zoo for their studies helps him see a lot more.

📗🦓 The Doppler Effect

M • 2k • Harry/Louis • part three of the Uni AU series • written for @wordplayfics

“A...zebra?”

Harry sighed heavily, rolling his eyes upwards as he heard Niall chuckle next to him.

“No no, okay, I’ll - the hint again,” he explained, shaking his head and gesturing, his drink spilling behind him. He ignored the sharp cry that sounded afterwards, the muffled curse that followed as someone shook vodka and some kind of juice out of their hair. He leant forward, smiling widely. “Nyoooooooom.” His head travelled quickly from left to right and he giggled at the sound, images of race tracks and cars running through his head.

Okay, maybe he was a little drunk.

Or, there's only one person who figures out Harry's Halloween costume.

📘🎨 A Work of Art

E • 5k • Zayn/Liam • part four of the Uni AU series • written for @wordplayfics

“I’m sorry, I am, but I really have to go. Will I maybe see you around?” His voice was hesitant, but Liam’s mouth shifted into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling again at the corners. The insane part of Zayn’s brain had already decided that he wanted to see that every morning.

“I hope so.” Liam’s voice was just as soft as the curve of his mouth, and Zayn let out an audible sigh as he lifted his hand in an awkward wave and darted down the hallway.

Or, Zayn meets Liam before he realises he’s the life model for his extra credit class.

📙👓 My Favourite Word

NR • 3k • Harry/Louis • part five of the Uni AU series • written for @wordplayfics

“Nah,” Niall replied, typing on his computer and gracefully ignoring Harry’s embarrassment. The grin remained though. “He has a pretty specific...type. You could go help him out, you know. Pretend to be his boyfriend.”

Harry choked on the water he’d just swigged, his face brighter red still when everyone in the library turned to stare at him.

Or, Louis’ ex boyfriend won’t leave him alone, so Harry steps in.

⚡️🔥 Just As Fast, Twice As Dangerous

E • 47k • Zayn/Liam, side Harry/Louis • written for @1dridicficexchange

When he realised it was only him and Liam in the hallway, he felt safe enough to drop his shield.

Oh. Lovely.

Liam was emanating affection and fondness, his primary emotions filled with warmth and love. Zayn let himself bask in it, how it would feel to be loved by Liam. He knew Liam loved him, but he wasn’t in love with him; Zayn had felt that emotion too many times to count, and this just wasn’t it. He dug slightly deeper, could feel that Liam was excited and nervous, and when he hit a wall Liam had built himself, he dropped back. He wasn’t supposed to know everything.

Or, Zayn's a normal student by day, and a superhero by night. When a mysterious man seems to target him at the same time a natural disaster strikes, Zayn has to figure out a way to save the day, protect his heart, and convince the boys he's not a vigilante all at the same time.

🐈 🎭 And That Was That

E • 23k • Harry/Louis, Zayn/Liam, Louis/Zayn, Liam/Harry, Zayn/Liam/Louis/Harry • written for @1dpolyficfest

“Okay. When Zayn and I were working on the set yesterday, Liam dropped by and mentioned he had a date. I asked Zayn about it, and he said that they’re ah - poly?”

Harry blinked.

“Oh yeah, I knew that. Li mentioned it when we were playing tennis once.” He ran his hand through Louis’ hair, smiling softly when he nuzzled into the touch. “Is that what’s making you act strange? Because it seems like something that works for them, and I —.”

“Zayn has feelings for me.” A deep breath, and then blue eyes locked on green. “He said he needs distance because he has to get over them.”

Harry hadn’t realised his hand had fallen from Louis’ face until his fingers were being tangled and gripped tightly.

Or, Zayn and Liam have been polyamorous for years, but Harry and Louis are monogamous. When Zayn meets Louis and starts to fall for him, it opens them all up for something they've never experienced before.

⚽️ 🎶Come In and Change My Life

E • 12k • Harry/Louis, side Zayn/Liam • written for @hlmpregficexchange

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment.

He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped.

He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was.

Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

🎤 🏳️‍🌈 Something Deep Inside

M • 17k • Harry/Louis, side Zayn/Liam • written for FOUR fic fest

He knew what he needed, and it was a harsh realisation to think that maybe he’d never have it again, that maybe he was about to ruin everything by admitting, live to thousands of people, that they’d been right all along.

Well, almost.

Their fans had gotten a substantial amount correct; the relationships that were faked, the two of them being kept apart by their management for being too close, too affectionate, the social media control and all the stories planted in the papers in their attempts to ruin them. Most of all though, there had been people who had always known that the overwhelming feeling of love, passion, commitment, and home was there all along.

They just hadn’t known it was one sided.

Or, the five times Louis had to hold back his feelings, and the one time he didn't.

A canon divergent story inspired by Fireproof.

💍⛳️ So baby, say you’ll always keep me

T • 9k • Harry/Louis, side Zayn/Liam • written for @28proposalsfest

He took a deep breath, and gripped Harry’s hand.

He wasn’t sure what he expected; an electric shock through his system, all of the clouds parting so the sun could shine down on them, or maybe some kind of confirmation that this was it.

What he got was warmth, a gentle grip, and a slight shiver down his spine. He still knew.

Louis and Harry know that they’re meant for each other. When Harry proposes, Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy until he realises Harry’s ex-boyfriend is only a few tables over, and maybe instead of a marriage, it’s time for a breakup.

🎄 📞 A Not So Silent Night

T • 6k • Zayn/Liam • written for @1dchristmasfest

Liam's had a crush on Zayn for months, every time they talk on the phone just making him grow fonder.

He's just never met him in real life.

When he finally gets to meet him, it turns out that he can't take his eyes off him dancing on the table at the bank's Christmas party.

Especially when he starts taking off his sweater.

Can’t wait to share my writing with you in 2020! 💕

[infiniteshawn]

Since We’re Alone | 4

a/n: 5k of getting to know each other.

Phoebe flopped down on her hotel bed with little enthusiasm, paying no mind to LA’s glistening skyline flickering up at her. She knew the team meant business by putting her up in a room just as expensive as Shawn’s, but she was too busy to gawk at the city because her mind was flooded with opinions and guilt and excitement regarding The Meeting. 

They’d Ubered to some corporate building in West Hollywood. The traffic was bad. Phoebe wore a pencil skirt. 

She remembered Shawn’s uneasy expression when the mock-up contract was slid across the table, Andrew’s face lighting up like that of a kid’s in a candy shop. 

Phoebe’s suspicious nature pushed her to read the fine print. 

Shawn’s A&R guy tapped his foot on the marble tile in annoyance while she inspected every word, but Shawn’s gaze was fixed on her chin as a proud smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

She was no match for the industry. 

He kind of liked it. 

“Alright,” Phoebe breathed, snapping up from her concentration and pulling everyone’s attention to herself. 

“I’ll hang out with him, I’ll go here and there, and I’ll visit,” she spoke, and Mr. Gertler’s smile was wider than Shawn’s, “but I will not live out of a suitcase for more than one week at a time.”

Andrew nodded, and the A&R guy spoke, “Deal.”

A knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. 

“Come in.”

It was unlocked, and Phoebe pushed up on her elbows to see who on earth she had just invited into her room. 

She concluded that she should probably be more careful. 

“Hey,” it was a hoarse whisper, but she immediately relaxed at the sound of Shawn’s voice. He was stepping carefully as if he were trying to be quiet, but when he set his guitar down in the corner it smacked the wall and startled both of them. Phoebe chuckled. 

“Just wanna make sure you’re all good,” he followed-up, “I know those meetings can be a lot.”

“All good, Rockstar,” Phoebe answered without looking in his direction. She didn’t notice that his cheeks went pink at the nickname. 

The silence caught her attention and she wondered what his next move would be. Curiously snapping her head up, she discovered that he was waiting for instruction. 

Shawn stood a few feet from the foot of her bed, shoulders practically to his ears as his massive hands were stuffed in his tight denim pockets. 

“Can I?” he asked quietly, looking from her to the mattress. Phoebe wondered if he was weary because he was nervous or if it was because he always had to be in his line of work. 

“Yeah, sit!” she spoke cheerily, clenching her core and shifting to reposition herself against the headboard, knees to her chest. Shawn—long limbs galore—climbed up and sat cross-legged to face her. 

He took a deep breath, and it was like the Shawn she (sort of) knew had checked-out and a very calculated one had emerged. 

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” he spoke flatly, talking with his hands, “we should pitch most of the ideas ourselves, and we should do it fast.”

“What?” Phoebe blinked at him, but his gaze was unfaltering. 

“We wait long enough and they’re gonna make all the decisions for us. I’d rather maintain some form of control.”

Phoebe had to admit—it was kind of hot. She smirked.

“Not just a pretty face, huh?”

Shawn chuckled.

“You know,” he started, but paused to take a long breath and seemingly connect his many thoughts, “I’m the nice guy. I smile and I nod, but I listen. I know way more about this industry than any of those assholes think,” he spoke quietly but surely, and then his eyes traveled around the room in fear that someone could be listening. 

Phoebe had the urge to reach for his hand. She fought it. 

“Normally, this arrangement would suck,” Shawn continued, looking her dead in the eyes, “but it doesn’t have to.”

~~~

“They know I’m from Toronto. Isn’t it obvious that something’s up,” Phoebe used an unfortunate pair of air quotes, “if we’re first being spotted here?”

“Not if Shawn’s in the studio,” Andrew spoke, reaching to flip his iPhone face-down on the table. 

They sat tucked away in the very back of a dimly-lit seafood restaurant.

Ironically, both Phoebe and Shawn ordered the roast chicken. 

“And you’re gonna story it,” Andrew continued, half-smiling at their server as she topped up his water. 

“My Instagram’s private.”

“Not for long,” he spoke, “go public.”

“Shouldn’t I follow her before that?” Shawn chimed in. A glob of salad dressing adhered to the corner of his mouth. 

“You don’t even follow her yet?” Andrew’s eyes pierced Shawn’s, “Oh, my God. You’re only making this more difficult for yourself.”

“I dunno,” Shawn looked down at his hands, and his eyes appeared a little hurt, “I do what you tell me to do.”

Andrew was only half-listening, because he’d unlocked his iPhone and switched Instagram accounts before Shawn had finished talking. 

Phoebe’s pocket buzzed and she fished her phone out with great struggle—the tattered PopSocket always got stuck on her jeans. 

@shawnmendes has requested to follow you.

And so it began.

~~~

Despite Andrew’s suggestions, Shawn actually did need to spend some time in the studio. 

He caught up with Phoebe at her café of choice—not that she knew any of them anyway—after his mandatory gym fix. 

Phoebe took the time to collect her thoughts, begin loosely planning her big article, and of course, call Sophie. 

“I don’t even know if a company’s coordinating it, or how this works,” she spoke into the phone, “but I read my contract, and it’s nothing crazy,” Phoebe could see Sophie sighing in her brain, “I trust him.”

“You trust him?” Sophie replied quickly and defensively, but having her best friend’s interests at heart, “Pheebs, I am aware that he’s the most handsome,” Phoebe laughed at that one, but she was chewing her fingernail, “but these guys are big fish. Be careful. They own you now.”

There was a silence until Sophie spoke again.

“How long?”

“Two months, until the North American leg is over.”

Sophie sighed, “When are you coming home?”

“Tomorrow,” Phoebe responded, but her eye caught a familiar swallow tattoo reaching for the handle of the glass door, “shit, I’ll call you back. Talk later.”

The bell chimed and Shawn walked in, hair wet and stringy from his post-gym shower. Phoebe shivered. 

“You shaved!” she called with a grin as he beelined for her small booth.

“For your sake,” he giggled, slipping his phone into his pocket, “you ready?”

~~~

Shawn strummed mindlessly at an acoustic as Phoebe logged into Instagram. 

6,072 follow requests. 

The slightly devilish side of her internally cheered, as this could be the start of some real exposure for her actual work. 

But she knew she didn’t earn it. 

Profile.

Settings. 

Privacy. 

Account Privacy. 

Private Account. Off. 

“Phoebe,” she heard. Shawn beckoned her over, contorted around his guitar. He’d ditched his shirt only a few minutes into the session. His shoulders must have been the size of her head. 

“Hm?”

“What do you think of this?” he mumbled as he played a riff. He tilted his head sideways as he plucked, studying Phoebe as she contemplated where to look. His eyes fell and his cheeks got hot, and Phoebe wondered if he was self-conscious about his art or taking note of the strip of skin where her pants didn’t quite reach her probably-too-small t-shirt. 

“I like it,” she concluded, “it’s bouncy,” but her words didn’t seem to be making it, “it has the potential to be bouncy. Here,” she paused, taking a seat in the chair next to his and sticking her hands out, “may I?”

Shawn babbled something between “sure” and “of course” before surrendering the instrument over. 

He took a deep breath through his nose as she tugged her braid loose, letting her (somehow always uneven) waves frame her face. 

“It’s really pretty, but,” she spoke as she found the right chords, “this might be a little more fun.”

Phoebe changed the pattern a little and Shawn stared at her fingers, though the cluster of freckles on her nose called for his attention too. 

Phoebe realized she’d compromised his ideas, stolen his guitar, and told him how to do his job. She immediately clamped her hand down on the guitar’s neck. 

“M’sorry, that was stupid, I shouldn-“

“No!” Shawn’s expression changed, his look of awe quickly evolving into one of concern, “God, no. Please keep going.”

Shawn’s hands had reached for Phoebe’s without either of them noticing and they were practically nose-to-nose, scared shitless about what the other may be thinking. 

It was ridiculous. 

Phoebe’s lip twitched. Shawn huffed, and his eyes began to crinkle at the corners. 

Laughter broke out. Shawn tossed his head back and clapped his hands and Phoebe covered her mouth, subconsciously conscious about her one crooked incisor. 

It was unspoken, but they both felt it. 

The invisible barrier was down. 

The nerves of The Great Unknowing were gone. 

The ice was broken. Shattered. 

And it felt amazing. 

Shawn caught his breath, cheeks red and patchy from his giggling fit. Phoebe tucked her sandy-blonde hair behind her ears and admired his wide, beaming grin. 

Shawn was the first to speak, barely whispering as he presented his right hand.

“Hi, I’m Shawn.”

“Hi Shawn,” Phoebe smiled, slipping her small hand into his large one, “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

~~~

“Where have you been?” Andrew hissed. Phoebe and Shawn looked at each other. 

“We wrote a song,” Shawn spoke with confidence. 

“You,” Andrew’s eyes bulged out of his head for a second, and Phoebe tried her best not to laugh, “you what?”

“It’s a good one, too,” Shawn grinned, shoulders relaxing, “we were there for like, eight hours, but the vocals are done. I sent it to Max for mixing.”

Shawn failed to mention that it was a suggestively raunchy love song, and that Phoebe had supporting vocals on the bridge. It was their little secret for now. 

Shawn and Phoebe were no longer a secret, though, because Shawn had taken it upon himself to post a black-and-white photo of Phoebe on the Persian-rug-covered studio floor, cross legged with his guitar in her lap. She was looking at the camera, pointing at him with one hand, laughing at how he’d gotten so into it that he lost a sock. Andrew liked it because it would reach 150 million people. Shawn liked it because it captured the way her nose crinkled when she laughed. 

He only posted one, but he’d taken two. He found himself reaching for his phone in his pitch-black hotel room, turning up his brightness to get a better look. It was in colour—thank God, Shawn thought—because he liked the gentle flush in her cheeks as she gazed at the strings. Her lilac nails clamped down on a fret as she strummed at his guitar, and her feet were covered by a questionable blanket she’d found draped over one of the couches. Shawn grinned sleepily as his eyes raked over the light dusting of freckles littering her forehead and nose, and he wondered what it would be like to count them. 

Fatigue set in and he closed his Photos app before locking his phone, because he wasn’t afraid that it would disappear or that he’d have to share it with anyone. 

This one wasn’t for Instagram. 

It was for him.

~~~

Shawn was staying in LA for some business-y stuff, but Phoebe was overdue to go home. She thought it was “sticky.”

“You’re good to fly alone?” Shawn asked as she checked in at the kiosk, rapidly typing her destination onto the screen.

“Yes, Shawn,” she breathed, scanning her passport to get her boarding pass printed, “I’m a big girl.”

Shawn chuckled before he spoke, “That you are.”

Phoebe was unsure of whether he was making a joke or flirting with her. It wouldn’t have been the first time for either. 

“How’s the follower count?” Shawn changed the subject, one hand on the back of his neck as he bounced on his toes. 

“Twenty thousand,” Phoebe responded, printing her bag tag. 

“And the comments?” Shawn winced. 

“Haven’t checked,” she replied, but it was a lie. Phoebe had spent two hours reading assumptions and accusations about herself, desensitizing her feelings to whatever was to come. She didn’t want Shawn worrying about her—he had enough to worry about already. 

It wasn’t flying that was making her anxious. Andrew had informed them that someone would be sent to the airport to take photos, and Phoebe collected from his endless spiel that they’d be required to kiss. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to kiss Shawn. Not that she did want to, either. It was just business. Or so she told herself. The reason she was so freaked out was that they’d only kissed once, and due to the circumstances, it was electric.

It wasn’t just a good kiss, it was a good kiss. The kind that’s hard to follow. 

But Shawn’s hand had slipped into hers and Phoebe felt like her fingers were on fire. He had her suitcase and his thumb was doing the thing and they’d reached her gate. 

“Phoebe,” Shawn muttered and tugged her backward. She noticed he’d stopped walking. “Smile, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Sorry,” she spoke, forcing a smile and connecting her free hand with Shawn’s. 

“Nervous?” he asked, but he had a hint of a smile.

“To fly?”

“No,” he spoke, and his eyes flickered down to her plump lips, “for this.”

He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, and any anxiety Phoebe had been feeling melted away. 

Shawn pulled back and dropped her hands, relocating his own to her hips. 

Phoebe was blushing because he had her pressed to him—all of him—and her fingers had minds of their own and had decided to creep up his biceps. 

“Good?” he asked with a smile, nose against hers. Phoebe looked at him with her big blue eyes and nodded, taking him by surprise when she pushed up on her toes and captured his lips again. 

He melted into her, eyes closed and mouth slightly parted. Phoebe grinned as she did The Thing, causing Shawn to release an involuntary groan when she swiped his bottom lip with her tongue. 

Phoebe pulled back and hugged his chest, imagining the innocent look of surprise on his face as he caught his breath. 

Shawn’s hand came up and tilted her chin upward so he could place one last peck on her lips. His other hand travelled a little further south than intended, forcing a giggle to erupt from her throat as he grazed her ass. 

She pulled away and touched his cheek. Shawn looked pale and flushed and confused and alive. 

“See you at home, Rockstar.”

Shawn watched her walk away with a shake of his head and a smile on his face, wondering where the hell she came from and what he did to deserve to know her. 

Phoebe turned back before rounding the corner to blow him a kiss, and she couldn’t deny that the sight of him standing there with his fingers brushing the corner of his lips caused a grin to creep up her own. 

~~~

The airport photos went viral. 

Phoebe savoured her time being known to the world as “Shawn Mendes’ Mystery Girl” because soon the tabloids and media outlets would know her name and things would only be able to grow more complicated. 

Fans of Shawn’s had already dug up the few minor pieces she’d written for Toronto Life, and it became evident that her team at the magazine couldn’t report on their “relationship.” It would be too obvious. 

The North American leg was kicking off in Portland, as it usually did. She was packing. 

Team members had begun following her socials at random, but Phoebe was yet to meet anyone other than Andrew. 

She had to admit; she was kind of nervous. 

More people meant more cameras, and more cameras meant that she had to be on. All the time. 

Andrew was happy, though, and that meant that Phoebe’s boss, Margaret, was happy. And if Margaret was happy, Phoebe was happy. So Shawn was happy. 

She took a break from her game of packing-Tetris and checked her phone, only to feel a tinge of worry at the sight of two missed calls from Shawn. She swiped the notification and put her brick of an iPhone 6 to her ear. 

She heard commotion, so she knew he’d answered. 

“Hello? Shawn?”

Phoebe could just make out a very muffled, “Guys, shut up,” and then,

“Phoebe!” a lot more clearly. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Hey, yeah, I’ve been trying to call you!” Shawn said, and Phoebe could hear the grin in his voice. Maybe he was tipsy, “M’having people over, since we leave tomorrow, and I was wondering if you wanna swing by? Meet the boys?”

Phoebe caught a glimpse of her reflection in her bathroom mirror and blinked.

She looked like a mess, and definitely had not intended on going out. 

But the words were leaving her lips before she could stop them.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

~~~

Phoebe had changed four times before deciding on her grey t-shirt dress, and even as she stood in Shawn’s mirrored elevator and smoothed it out, she was still questioning it. 

Shawn buzzed her up, so she knew that he was expecting her, but she didn’t know that he’d raced off to the bathroom to fix—no, perfect—his hair and Scope his already-pretty-clean mouth. 

“Do I look alright?” he huffed, hands on his hips. 

The guys paid him little mind. It was the playoffs.

“Guys,” Shawn spoke a little more sternly, stepping forward and reaching for the remote.

He hit pause, and was then hit with a sea of protests. 

“Seriously.”

His two buddies looked up at him from their spots on his stark-white couch, raking their unenthused eyes over Shawn’s frame. He wore black skinnies and a short-sleeve button-down.

“You look the same as always, man,” Brian, Shawn’s best friend, spoke, “maybe do up, like, one more button,” he sipped his bottle of Canadian, “your whole chest is like, out.”

Shawn reunited his fourth button down with its socket and then snapped his head back up for an updated opinion. 

“Dude,” Shawn’s other friend, Steve, spoke, “aren’t you like, already dating this girl?”

“Uh,” Shawn hesitated, bringing his hand up to scratch a nonexistent itch at the back of his neck, “yeah? Sorta.”

Shawn felt guilty for lying, but he wasn’t even sure that he was. At first, he’d questioned if Phoebe was even attracted to him. But after their airport kiss,

Shawn couldn’t deny the chemistry that he knew—hoped—was there. 

One, two, three, four, five little knocks at the door. 

Shawn shot his friends a cold look as he spoke, “act natural,” and pressed play on the remote. 

Brian muttered something about already being in his most “natural” form as

Shawn jogged all-but four steps to his front door and swung it open. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he grinned, and Phoebe swore his eyes twinkled as his smile crept up to them. 

Cheers from inside caused Phoebe’s eyebrows to momentarily furrow, until she asked, “Leafs game?”

“Yeah,” Shawn grinned, tilting his head a little as he wondered if she was going to go in for a hug or if he should. Neither, it turned out, because they both gave a tight-lipped grin before Shawn realized he should be inviting her in.

Two beers and a plate of nachos later, Phoebe was wedged between Shawn and Brian, yelling at a two-dimensional Mitch Marner to “skate!”

Tensions were nonexistent until the final commercial break, when Steve popped the question. The one no one had rehearsed for. 

“So, how’d you guys meet?”

Shawn and Phoebe exchanged a nervous glance before speaking at the same time. 

“We go way back.”

“Tinder.”

Shawn shut his eyes and took a breath, and Phoebe snaked her hand between his side and his bicep, leaning in a little closer to hopefully save the story. 

“It was Tinder, but it was ages ago,” Phoebe improvised, and Shawn seemed to be loosening up because his right hand was gliding over her leg and clutching her inner thigh. Phoebe cleared her throat. His hand was a little higher than intended. 

“Hm,” Steve spoke, and Brian shot Shawn a knowing glance, as if he knew what was really going on. “Shawn’s never mentioned you,” he added, and Brian nudged him on the arm. Steve wasn’t particularly rude, just blunt. Too blunt for having just met someone. 

“Didn’t even know you were on Tinder,” Steve concluded, talking to Shawn, who only shrugged. 

Phoebe took it upon herself to turn her head and lightly nuzzle Shawn’s shoulder, and by some work of the Heavens, the game was back on. 

The Leafs beat the Bruins four to three and Steve headed out immediately. He said he had to get home to his dog. 

That’s when Brian showed his cards. 

“You guys really have to get your story straight,” he said flatly, the second the door shut, “you’re lucky Steve isn’t the smartest, because the chemistry between you guys isn’t,” he paused, and Shawn interrupted. 

He looked horrified as he spoke. 

“There?”

Phoebe’s heart sunk a little, and Brian started talking again. 

“No, it’s definitely there,” his crystal blue eyes widened for a second, “you’re just not using it properly. You want people to believe you’re dating?” he asked, but didn’t give enough time for an answer, “get to fucking know each other.

Start speaking the same language because right now, I’m not buying it.”

Phoebe nodded and stared blankly, and Shawn muttered, “I swear I didn’t tell him anyth-“ before Brian cut him off.

“Shawn, I know you and I know how this works. Don’t forget how much time I spent in that world,” he paused, “and I think I would’ve heard of Phoebe before last month. What even happened?”

Phoebe looked at Shawn and he nodded, indicating that Brian was safe. 

“Cameras got stuck on him when he lost the Grammy and he looked pissed, so I kissed him. Figured he didn’t need a scandal.”

“Wow,” Brian spoke, sipping his beer as he looked from Phoebe to Shawn and then back to Phoebe, “that’s badass.”

Brian headed out not long after because of the whole wife-and-baby-on-the-way thing. 

“I should probably follow suit,” Phoebe spoke, standing from the bar stool at Shawn’s kitchen island, “big day tomorrow.”

Shawn nodded, though he’d rather she stay a while longer. 

She slipped her sneakers on haphazardly and Shawn leaned against the wall, waiting for her face to come back. He liked the height difference. 

“I do think we should consider what Brian said, though,” she spoke, “about getting to know each other better. Speaking the same language.”

“Yeah?” Shawn asked, coming in a little closer. He’d kill to know her better. 

“So before I go,” she grinned, looking up at him though her blonde lashes. Her chin was inches from his bare chest, and Shawn worried that in such close quarters she might be able to hear his heart slamming around in there. 

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Shawn gave a deep chuckle. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that. He grinned lazily. He was tired, but there was something intoxicating about her. 

“Guess.”

Most people would say “blue,” or “I don’t know,” or refuse because all of it was rather ridiculous. 

But the way Phoebe’s wild eyes matched her wide smile and her whole face lit up when she animatedly suggested “Yellow!” set Shawn’s soul on fire. 

It was settled. 

His favourite colour was yellow. 

~~~

The stadium roared as Phoebe stood side stage, heart racing with anticipation.

She’d only seen Shawn perform once, and it was five years prior when she reported on the MMVA’s for her university newspaper. 

Andrew had her standing visible to fans, and it was Shawn’s idea that she wore his ancient green “Crossfit” hoodie. 

Phoebe smelled like him and she could see him, and she wondered when her life got so caught up with him, him, him that she was excited and terrified and giddy all at once. 

She caught herself—too immersed in her own thoughts.

It was time to put on a show. 

Phoebe admired the setup. Shawn was coming off of a rock ‘n’ roll phase, and this tour was based around nature and soft sounds and going “back to his roots.” The b-stage was a small forest of semi-realistic birch trees. 

She spent the first eight-or-so songs mesmerized by him and the fans and his connection with the fans that she hardly noticed security tapping on her shoulder, whisking her away to the back of the floor where the mixing area was. 

Tom, the sound guy who Phoebe had met briefly in the green room before the show, gave her a two-fingered wave and got back to pressing buttons. 

There was still a barricade separating her from the square sanctuary of a mix, and Phoebe had figured out what was going on. 

Her line of sight travelled to the nearest dugout, where at least five security guards were planted firmly. 

Phoebe tucked her hair behind her ears, but then changed her mind and tousled it. It was in her brief moment of dread, wishing she had put on lip gloss instead of lip balm, that Shawn burst from the little hallway, sandwiched-in by thousands of screaming women. 

He was headed straight for her. No, he was barrelling. 

Phoebe braced herself for whatever Shawn was ordered to do—hug her, kiss her, maybe just give her a good shake—but just as his massive mess of muscle and limbs was ready to smack into her, it didn’t. Shawn had come to a full stop. 

There were no longer fifty-thousand people in the room. 

There were only two. 

“You good?” Shawn mouthed, but Phoebe wasn’t sure if it was the screaming fans or the heavy bass or her heart pumping so hard that she could hear the ‘whooshing’ of blood travelling through her ears that prevented her from hearing him. It didn’t matter, because somewhere in the sensory overload she’d given a little nod, and that was all Shawn needed before pushing his guitar onto his back and cupping her warm cheeks. 

He was grinning and Phoebe was still thinking about lip gloss when he pulled her closer and gave her a short, wet kiss. 

And then, as fast as he had come, he was gone. 

He had a show to finish. 

~~~

Phoebe headed back to the bus as soon as the show ended. She knew she had work to do—being photographed and getting to know Shawn’s posse—but she had fifty-or-so shows to get it done. 

After having a hundred thousand eyes on her, she was done for the night. 

It wasn’t that Phoebe was majorly insecure. She was proud of herself. She’d broken free from the family mould of economists and lawyers and put herself through school. She graduated. She lived alone. Phoebe was—to put it simply—a badass. 

But as she stood on a vacated tour bus in Portland, Oregon, looking into its only full-length mirror as she fiddled with the strings of Shawn’s hoodie, she couldn’t help but hate her reflection. 

She heard laughter, and then the few clumsy thuds of someone climbing the steps. Phoebe dried her puffy under-eyes and caught her breath, mentally preparing for whatever was about to walk through that door. 

But how could anyone prepare for any of this? she wondered. 

The aluminum door swung open and a few people came stumbling in, Shawn included. Phoebe huffed a laugh as a boozy aroma washed over her. Shawn had mentioned that their original drummer had a kid, and tonight was somewhat of an initiation for the new guy. 

Phoebe stood beside her low bunk, doing her best at avoiding the sweaty rockstar until his hand brushed against her lower back. 

He didn’t say anything at first, so Phoebe was forced to look from his boots to his thighs, to his bare arms and then to his lips, finally landing on his eyes. They were glassy and far-away, but his drunkenness didn’t quite hide the hurt he was feeling. 

He had intended on asking why she left, but he noticed the smudge of mascara on her cheekbone.

“Why’re you crying?” he almost whispered, and his voice sounded sad. Phoebe felt razor blades in her throat, and she knew tears were threatening to spill over. She looked between his eyebrows. 

“I’m not,” she said, but she knew he didn’t believe her. He was inspecting her, studying her eyes and lips and trying his best to figure out where he went wrong. 

Neither of them noticed that he’d pulled her in, and her chin was to his chest. 

But Shawn was drunk and rosy and Phoebe was teary-eyed and pale, and the only thing left for her to say was, “You were amazing out there.”

Shawn didn’t have the chance to respond because Andrew had found them and was already speaking with zero regard for their private conversation. 

“Nice touch, guys,” he said and paused, “the b-stage kiss,” and he was gone. 

Contrary to her beliefs, Andrew hadn’t organized the kiss.

She looked at Shawn, who was grinning. Flushed cheeks and kind eyes and most definitely up to something. 

“Goodnight, Phoebe,” he whispered before ducking his head to place a single kiss on her nose. 

Phoebe wanted to say something. She wanted to grab him and kiss him and tug him under her blankets, where they wouldn’t have to worry about fans or Andrew or playing a part, where they could just be and feel and explore. But her breath got caught in her throat and Shawn’s grip had loosened, and Phoebe said nothing. 

~~~

taglist: @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @its-the-unknownspidey @everytigerisakity @harold-hugs @ccidk@particularshawnn @ssweet-empowerment @tamegray @loveat2 @heyits-claire @martinimendes @shxwnmxndess@sunriseshawn @jollybonkpatroldonkey @jesuscheistkaren@casuallycoolcloud@sinplisticshawn@deafeningdeanhoagieturtle @rosieblondie @hannahlouiseee @change-perspective13@abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @calthesensation @livsalzy @illumelilac

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go Ch. 1

Summary: Addison receives an invitation from her friend Charlie Abbott to attend the world cup, and must convince her muggle parents to let her go.

Character Pairings: Fred Weasley x New Character (NOT IN THIS CHAPTER)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: I’ve been needing a creative outlet and this story has been sitting in my head for a while now. Just a fun new look on JKR’s original storyline. I’ve never written fanfic before, but I’ve been having so much fun writing that I thought I’d share. Just a heads up I expect this to be very long and in many many parts, so if you stick by me through this journey, thank you so much :)

My life had always been exceptionally ordinary. Ordinary parents, ordinary school, ordinary friends, ordinary cricket practice on the weekends. In an ordinary neighborhood on the outskirts of London, surrounded by ordinary neighbors, with ordinary lives. That was until the summer following my eleventh birthday; when I received a letter that opened my eyes to a reality much bigger and brighter than the only one I had ever known. My life had flipped upside down in a way that could only be described as magical. With every day that followed being filled with even more wonder than the one before.

As I stood next to my open bedroom window, absentmindedly stroking the owl that was perched atop the spell books on my desk, gripping a scrap of parchment, I was viciously reminded of that fact. I was a witch you see, born to two non-magic parents, muggles they’re called, and my life was now anything but ordinary. The letter I’d received had invited me to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I was now only weeks away from beginning my fifth year.

The owl hooted excitedly and I was drawn back to my modest bedroom. The open window had let the cool night time air fill the small space. I scanned the parchment again, trying to believe my eyes.

Addison!!!!

 My dad got tickets!! He surprised us just tonight at dinner. We are actually going to the World Cup, this Monday night!! Dad said Hannah and I can each bring a friend, and you know, of course I thought of you. Mum said if you want to come, she can call your parents on the telephone if you’ll send their number to us the regular way. She said she could try to look them up in a sort of directory book but that it had been quite some time since she’s used one. Send your reply and telephone number with Stella as soon as possible. 

 I can’t wait!

 -Charlie

I read the letter over twice more just to make sure it was real. Since I first began at Hogwarts, nearly four years ago, I had been instantly infatuated by the students dashing through the sky on their brooms, playing the popular wizard sport, quidditch. I had only struggled for a moment during my first flying lesson, and soon felt at home on a broom. After attending my first quidditch match, I became determined to earn a spot on my house team.

Now, I was being asked to attend the biggest quidditch match of the season. My favorite team, Bulgaria, would be taking on the Irish to compete to claim the title of the World Cup. Having only been able to read about professional quidditch matches in the wizarding newspaper, The Daily Prophet, that my friends sometimes sent me, I had no idea what to expect. My head was instantly filled with scenes of the Hogwarts quidditch pitch, where I had spent so many afternoons training and perfecting my skills to be the best beater in my year. Surely, it would be more grandiose than the modest wooden stands, colorful house flags, and homemade banners held up by students, but I had never attended a large scale wizard gathering before.

I ripped a piece of my own parchment and began to scribble a reply, but thought better of it. No matter how accepting my parents tried to be of my new life, they may not appreciate finding out that their daughter was planning to attend an international sporting event through a telephone call with a stranger

“You wait right here,” I pointed at the jet black owl, who was now pruning her wing feathers. I scooted a glass of water from my bedside to sit in front of the bird whom I assumed was called Stella. She clicked her beak appreciatively and bowed her head to drink.

I turned and started past my bed and the Bulgaria poster in which Victor Krum literally flew across the front on his broom and pumped his fist enthusiastically. Krum was their seeker. A position I had always admired, yet never had the skillset for. To think that I might actually get to see him play with my own two eyes made my heart soar. I couldn’t much see the infatuation that other girls my age had with him. Sure, he was arguably the best seeker in the world, but I always thought he looked a bit plain. Pinned up next to Krum on the wall were a few other smaller moving photographs. My Hogwarts friends smiled back at me and waved in what seemed to be encouragement.

I made my way down the stairs and into the sitting room where my parents were. Their backs were to me, both sitting on the red and yellow striped sofa that always reminded me of a carton of French fries. They were engrossed in a news program that blared from the small speakers on the television set that the furniture was all oriented towards. A few photographs, the faces in these all stationary, of our family littered the walls and surfaces throughout the room. I felt a familiar twinge of guilt as I scanned them. Fewer and fewer photographs included me as they grew more recent. The few that did include me were from summer or winter holidays, or before my eleventh birthday. In most photographs, my mother, with her sweeping hair that reminded me of smooth honey dripping over her shoulders, and full innocent eyes; my father, his sharp pointed features and muddy brown mop on top of his head; and my younger brother, a perfect split between the two of them, honey colored hair distinctly chiseled features, smile back at you happily. They look like a complete family unit. Almost as if there is no room for me in their world anymore like there is no room for them in my new one.

“Mum? Dad?” I called, just loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the television, “Can I talk to you both for a moment?”

My mother turned to look over my shoulder as my dad switched off the television, “Sure darling, what is it?” Her long hair was twisted up into a tight bun on top of her head.

I walked around the sofa, and carefully balanced myself on the arm of the loveseat that was adjacent to it.

“Charli- Er- Charlotte Abbott has just written to me. You know, one of my friends from my year at school,” I chewed on my lip, suddenly unsure of how this conversation would go. Would my parents be willing to send me trampling across the English countryside with a family they had never met, to watch a sport that they had no concept of. “Her parents have managed to get tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. It’s this coming Monday, and she’s invited me to go with them.”

“And where is this World Cup to take place? At Wembley Stadium?” My father chuckled, but I detected a note of seriousness to his tone.

“Well no,” I paused, amused by the idea of the world’s largest gathering of magical people taking place right here in London, “I’m not actually sure where it’s going to take place. They don’t exactly want mug- non magic people stumbling upon it.”

“We’re just supposed to ship you off about the country with people we don’t know then?” My mother sat up and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that.”

“Charlotte’s mother is a muggle born- er- she came from a normal family, like me,” I cringed internally at my use of the world normal. I found my new life normal. However my parent’s idea of normalcy was far different from mine, and I wanted them to feel as comfortable as possible about me going. “She said she would phone you to make sure it was alright, if I’ll just send our telephone number to her through Owl Post.”

My father chuckled again, “And just how do we do that? The postman would laugh at us.”

“Charlotte’s sent an owl with her note. It’s up in my room.” I said, trying to say it as casually as I possibly could.

“An owl? In your room?” My mother croaked and leapt to her feet. Letting the wool blanket that had covered her lap fall to the floor. She had hated birds since the time on summer holiday in France when I was eight, when she’d lost a battle over her fish sandwich to a flock of no less than thirty seagulls.

“Estoria,” my dad said firmly. My mother’s head snapped towards him and for a moment anger flared behind her stark hazel eyes. As quickly as it came though, it was gone. She seemed to physically try to push the thought aside and sit back down on the sofa.

My dad had always been a little more excited about the idea that I had been born a witch than my mother. He tried to look past the bizarre nature of the things that I told him about the magical world, and see the excitement that I saw in it. My mother on the other hand feared what my new future meant. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her, but I didn’t see a future where they could be included in my world any more than the occasional holiday visit. If my father could read my mind, maybe he would be fearful too.

My father tore me from this thought and prompted me, “Tell us more about this Addison, we want to understand.”

“Well,” I started, “I don’t know a lot of the details. However, I can just send our phone number back with the owl upstairs, and I’m sure the Abbot’s would phone sometime tomorrow. They just live in Godric’s Hollow.”

“Well I think it’s safe to say,” my father looked cautiously at my mother, “that until we do have more details, we can say maybe. When your mother speaks with Mrs. Abbott tomorrow, then we can make a better decision. I know you’re rather fond of this er- Quidditch sport.” He tried to smile at me. My mother on the other hand looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“Mum,” I spoke directly to her, “Mrs. Abbott was raised in a non-magical family. It will be easy to talk to her. You really don’t have anything to worry about.”

She contemplated this for a moment and then answered softly, “I’ll speak with her about it,” and after a moment more, “but that’s all that I’ll promise.”

I let out a small squeal, thanked them, and then left the two of them whispering to each other in the sitting room. I scrambled back up the stairs to my bedroom to write my reply to Charlie. In it I told her that I hoped her Mum had a plan for talking my muggle parents into letting me go off into the wizarding world before the term began at school.

When my Hogwarts letter had first arrived, accompanied by the magnificently white bearded headmaster in purple wizard’s robes, Albus Dumbledore, my mother had thought I was trying to play some kind of prank on them. Despite my insistence that I had never seen such a letter before and would have no ability to contact this person to pull such a prank, my mother almost shut the front door in his face. However, he peered over his half-moon spectacles just before my mother had had enough, winked at me, and pulled out his wand. After a few minor magical demonstrations, my parents, half scared out of their minds, allowed him to come in and present his case.

Following what seemed like hours of conversations that both included me and required my absence, my father seemed fairly convinced. After Professor Dumbledore left, my dad spent days convincing my mother that they should be proud to have a child who possesses such rare (by their standards) abilities. Once my father had it in his mind, that a school to help me focus and control my magical abilities would be the safest place for me, my mother didn’t stand a chance.

There were a few days where my mother wept. My father told me that she was grieving the future she had always envisioned for me, but I couldn’t understand why. To an eleven year old, finding out you’re a witch, on top of finding out you never have to take math again, is a reason to celebrate, not to mourn. Nonetheless, my parents loaded me into the car the following September 1st and dropped me off at Kings Cross Station. From that point forward there was no regular world and magical world; there was just my world, and theirs.

~

The following Sunday evening, I had my school trunk packed, my broomstick by the door, and was stashing my wand inside the soft lavender robes I had chosen for the occasion. Mrs. Abbott had phoned my mother the previous day and convinced her to not only let me attend the World Cup, but also stay in Diagon Alley with them until the start of term at Hogwarts. I’m still not quite sure how she did it, but I wondered if Mrs. Abbott had been a little more relatable than my mother had expected, because I heard them laughing and chatting on the phone for nearly two hours.

By the time they hung up, you’d think she was excited for a wizarding family of four to show up on her doorstep. The day of their arrival, she fussed about, straightening and then re-straightening everything from throw pillows to the portraits on the wall. She scrubbed our little white kitchen until the sun bounced through the large window over the sink and off of the grey tiled floor.

About a half hour before the Abbotts were set to arrive, my father called me into the parlor where he and my mother sat enjoying their afternoon tea. I sat on a small seat across the table from them. Mum was wearing her favorite floral summer dress and had her hair in a long braid down her back. Dad looked dashing, but no more so than a work day. He wore suits into the office during the week, but on the weekends he could usually be found in his usual jumper and slacks combo.

Mum sat her teacup back onto her saucer and pursed her lips. I looked between her and my father.

“What is it?” I wondered aloud.

“Well,” my mother began, and I detected a note of sadness in her voice. A stark contrast to the excitement I’d felt radiating from her that afternoon, “this is the first year we won’t be taking you to King’s Cross to catch your train. You’re fifteen now, and you’ve become quite the exceptional young woman.” Her voice caught on the last few words.

“I think what your Mum is trying to say,” my father interjected, sensing that my mother was on the edge of tears, “is that we want you to understand the great deal of trust we’re instilling in you to let you do this. We also wanted to go ahead and give you some money for you to exchange at the er- bank.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sealed envelope. “Now please, don’t go spending it all in one place. There’s a little extra in here for you to spend at the match. I won’t expect you’ll get a chance to exchange it beforehand, but please be sure to pay the Abbott’s back for anything they spend on you while you’re there, d’you understand?”

I stood and reached to take the envelope from him and he pulled me into a tight hug. After a moment, I felt my mother embrace me from the other side, and I pulled an arm loose from my father to wrap it around her. I could sense her silent tears as she kissed the top of my head. I wondered if she was mourning my would-have-been future again. I felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving them two weeks earlier than usual. I wouldn’t see them or hear their voices again until the Christmas holiday. Tears began filling my own eyes.

“It’s alright Mum, I’ll write to you. The normal way, just like always,” I whispered as I turned to wrap both of my arms around her.

“It just isn’t fair!” She exclaimed, sobbing into my shoulder. “You’re never home! Sometimes it feels like I don’t even have a daughter anymore.”

I recoiled from her at the same time that my father hissed, “Estoria! We talked about this!”

“It isn’t right Felix!” My mother wailed, turning to leave the room, “I shouldn’t have to send my baby out into a world I know nothing about!”

I watched her go silently as tears slipped down my cheeks. My father turned to me with pleading eyes.

“Addison, please don’t be upset, you know how hard this is for her,” he said quietly. He crossed the few feet separating us and wrapped me into his arms again. My father always felt so strong. As a young girl, I ran to him when I was scared. The day I left for Hogwarts, I was bursting with excitement, but deep in the pit of my stomach was the incredible weight of fear. Fear of going out into the unknown. Fear of leaving the only family I had ever known for months. I had turned to my father, and tried to be strong, but when I saw their worried expressions, I immediately crumbled. My mother had been moments away from taking me home right then, but my father knelt down, wrapped me in one of his hugs, and I felt his strength flow into me.

“I am so proud of you,” he had whispered to me that day, but the memory blended with the present, and I realized he was repeating those words to me now.

“She’s right though,” I sighed. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong here anymore.”

My father pulled back and held me at arm’s length, “Addison Page Morris, you will always,” he emphasized the word, “belong here. You are my daughter. No matter what direction life takes you, you will always be able to call my house, home.”

I nodded quickly and wiped my face on the sleeve of my robe. Surely, the Abbotts would be arriving any moment, and I didn’t want any evidence of our meltdown to be visible.

“I’ll go talk to your mother,” he said, “you just make sure you’ve got everything and have your trunk down by the front door.”

I moved on what felt like autopilot as I struggled to bring my belongings down to the front door. As much as I wanted to be excited about the prospect of being at the world cup in less than twenty-four hours’ time, I couldn’t bring myself to swallow the lump forming in my throat. Perhaps I shouldn’t stay in Diagon Alley with the Abbotts until September first. It wasn’t too far away from home. I could have my parents pick me up in front of the Leaky Cauldron, the wizard pub that stood as the gateway to the wizarding area.

I paused at the top of the stairs with my broomstick in hand and sighed. I didn’t want to come spend additional time in this home that felt so foreign to me now. Besides, there was no telling how long the match would go on. I’d heard of World Cups in the past that lasted days, and they had to keep bringing in alternates to let the players sleep. I would just have to set aside the guilt that came with leaving my family. The same way I did every year, just a couple weeks early this time. This time tomorrow, when I would be surrounded by wizards and fellow quidditch fans, my guilt would be far away.

A few minutes later, my mother and father had roused my younger brother out of his room, despite protest. James always seemed less than impressed with anything that had to do with me or magic. At 12 years old now, James had failed to receive his Hogwarts letter last summer. I always thought he had convinced himself that if I was a witch, he must have magical abilities too. He tried not to show his disappointment as his eleventh summer came and went, but his immediate attitude change toward me in general indicated otherwise.

He hovered in the doorway as my parents and I sat in the parlor waiting for the Abbotts. I hadn’t considered how they would come to collect me until now. I amused myself by entertaining the idea for a split second that they might have access to a car. There were many modes of wizarding transportation, brooms, traveling by fire through the Floo Network, but cars were hardly one of them. The only time I had heard of a Wizard family having a car was when I learned that two third year boys, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, had crashed a flying one into the Whomping Willow that resided on the school grounds after they’d missed the Hogwarts Express the previous year. You’d think that crashing a car into a decades old tree that could kill you with one swing would have warranted some kind of severe punishment, it didn’t. Harry Potter, sometimes better known as The Boy Who Lived, was something of an icon in the wizarding community. In the last war, that took place when I was a blissfully unaware muggle toddler, had abruptly ended when He Who Must Not Be Named had cast a curse at infant Potter that rebounded and seemed to kill the Dark Lord.

No one in the wizarding community dared speak his name, but I never quite understood it. Out of respect for my peers, the name never crossed my lips either, I was sure I couldn’t fathom the pain and destruction that accompanied his reign. Harry however had been launched into stardom. I watched the way whispers followed him in the corridors of the castle, and pitied him. I had heard from Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister that Harry had been raised by his muggle relatives, and was as new to this world as I was. I wondered if Harry ever felt like he didn’t quite belong in either world, like I did.

An earsplitting CRACK from just outside the front door interrupted my train of thought. Bringing me around to another mode of wizarding transportation, Apparition. When I first heard about people Apparating, my first thought was the teleportation I had seen in old sci-fi movies like Star Trek. Once a wizard took and passed their Apparition test, they could legally Apparate from any location almost instantaneously to another. I had never done it, but I had heard from the older students at Hogwarts that it was incredibly difficult and sometimes painful. If it was done incorrectly, you risked leaving bits of yourself behind in a horrible phenomenon called splinching. I never expected them to arrive this way, Charlie didn’t know how to Apparate, and surely they brought her with them.

The doorbell rang, and my mother’s excitement returned. She jumped up, smoothing her dress and straightening the sofa cushions she had just been sitting on. She crossed to the front door and wrenched it open with a huge smile on her face.

“Mr. and Mrs. Abbott! Hello, welcome to our home!” She beamed at them, and stood aside to let them in.

“Hello,” Mr. Abbott gripped my mother’s hand enthusiastically and pumped it up and down, “Please, call me Ted and this is my wife Susan. You must be Mrs. Morris. Your daughter is a spitting image of you.” Mr. Abbott was a short stout man with a mustache that seemed to take up a great portion of his face. It was grey, like his hair, and a smile protruded beneath it. His wife was several inches taller than he was, and wore a soft warm expression. I had a hard time imagining how they ended up together.

“Please, I’m Estoria and this is my husband Felix. We’re very pleased to meet you. Addison doesn’t bring people around to meet us very often.” She shot me a sideways glance and I felt the heat rise into my cheeks as I flushed a deep red. It wasn’t that I didn’t want my parents to meet the people in my life, I just couldn’t imagine a gaggle of wizards sitting around having tea in our parlor with my Muggle family.

Mr. and Mrs. Abbott filed in the front door, followed by Charlie. She grinned at me when our eyes met, and my rush of excitement had returned as well. Charlie was shorter than I was, and her blonde hair was pinned back neatly away from her face and cascaded down her shoulders. Her emerald green robes complimented the green eyes that Charlie and her younger sister Hannah had both inherited from their mother.

“Hey Addie,” she said to me as she rushed forward and hugged me. I hadn’t seen any of my friends since last June at the end of term. I squeezed her tightly, noting that she had gotten a bit taller over the summer holidays. “Ready to watch Bulgaria get annihilated tomorrow night?” She teased.

“You wish!” I giggled and shoved her away playfully.

“Charlotte, you didn’t mention Addison was a Bulgaria fan, we may have rescinded our invitation,” said Mr. Abbott through a chuckle.

My mother looked wildly uncomfortable with the talk of a sport she knew nothing about. Mrs. Abbott must have picked up on it because she leaned towards her and said, “Wizards and their quidditch huh? I’ve never really understood the appeal myself.” Her attempt to distance herself from the magical community for my mother’s sake must have worked, because she relaxed immediately and smiled.

“Men and children in general possess an affinity for sports that I will never understand,” said my mother.

“Please, won’t you all sit down?” Offered my father, whom I had just noticed keeping James from retreating back to his bedroom with an arm clamped around his shoulders.

“Oh that’s quite alright,” said Mr. Abbott, “we really are on a bit of a tight schedule and we’ve left our younger daughter at home alone. I just wanted to assure you we will take utmost care of your daughter and will make sure to see all the children off on their train in a couple of weeks.”

“But she hasn’t received her school letter yet,” my Mum suddenly remembered, probably scrambling for a last minute reason to keep me home, “How will we get it to her to buy her books?”

“I’ve already written to Minerva to tell her Addison will be attending the cup and staying the rest of the holiday with us. I am certain they will deliver her letter to us in Diagon Alley, not much gets by them at Hogwarts,” Mrs. Abbott assured her.

My mother looked slightly disappointed in the flaw in her plea to see me again before the term starts. Relief quickly overshadowed the disappointment as I knew she would always rather me be prepared for what’s ahead; wizarding school included.

“Well then,” she conceded, “I suppose you’re all set.” She reached over and squeezed my shoulder. I smiled excitedly at her, and pulled her into another hug. Our exchange of emotion filled words from just a bit ago was all but forgotten between the two of us. I loved my mother very much, and as much as it hurt me to see her so heartbroken by what I am, I would always feel at home in her arms.

“I’ll write to you both,” I promised both of my parents. Another round of hugs and goodbyes was necessary before we could finally make it out the door. On the front stoop with the door closed firmly behind the Abbotts and I, was when I remembered the loud crack that had accompanied the Abbott’s arrival.

“Are we Apparating?” I whispered nervously to Charlie out of the corner of my mouth.

She grinned and nodded, “Don’t worry, it’s sort of exhilarating.”

“But I don’t know how!” I insisted quietly, not wanting to look silly in front of her parents. Mr. Abbott must have heard me though, because he turned around and beamed at me from beneath his mustache.

“Don’t you worry my dear girl, you and Charlie are much too young to Apparate on your own. We will be taking you with us by sidealong Apparation!” Before I even had a chance to ask about this, Mrs. Abbott had seized my left arm and was telling me to close my eyes. I frantically looked around for Charlie and saw that Mr. Abbott was taking the same position on her right. She squeezed her eyes shut and I did the same, just in time.

I felt Mrs. Abbott twist away from me, only to clamp down harder on my arm. I felt like I had been submerged so deeply in the ocean that there was an intense pressure from all sides. The feeling was similar to what I would imagine squeezing my whole body through a small metal tube would be like. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs struggled against the squeezing grip that a fist seemed to have around them. Just as I thought my eardrums may burst from the pressure, everything was still and I gasped in lungfulls of air.

Mr. Abbott’s voice prompted me to open my eyes and realize we were no longer in London. We were standing in the warm afternoon sunshine in the square of a quaint little village that seemed worlds away from home.

“Welcome to Godric’s Hollow.”