#ITS FUCKING RAINING and some schools get rain check holidays

[meowiizzn]

I DONT EVEN HAVE AN EXTRA HOLIDAY BUT MY BROTHER GETS EXTRA 2?!?!?!?!??!?!

sucks are those festives that come on Sunday. ( means free college for a full week )

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Go Go Nekoma! Push it, Push it Nekoma! Coaches Chemisty (pt. 1)

Warnings: Angst, breakups, mention of virginity loss, Swearing

⚠️THIS FIC IS 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI ⚠️

Word count: 6000+ (split into 3 parts)

"I'm really sorry Y/N. I just don't see this going anywhere. We are both leaving for college soon and going to different schools at that" your boyfriend of the past 2 years, Naoi Manabu said as he looked down to the ground kicking the dirt below his feet.

Your eyes watered as you drown out the words he's saying.

"B-but we can make this work. I can come see you on weekends and we can still see each other over holidays and school breaks" you plead trying to save a relationship you know is doomed.

The past weeks had been rough to say the least. Manabu had been growing distant from you. Making excuses and staying later for volleyball practice to avoid walking home with you. To say it hurt would be an understatement. It broke your heart.

"Y/N I'm sorry, I just can't do this" Manabu said as he looked up seeing tears welling in your eyes.

"I love you. Doesn't that mean anything?" You say sternly as tears roll down your cheeks.

"Y/N-" he starts saying as you place your hand in front of his face.

"No. Don't. I gave you everything. I stuck by you through it all! I stayed late to walk with you home from volleyball practice. I came to as many games as I could! I stayed up late helping you study! Fuck I gave you my virginity!" You scream.

The emotions are just too overwhelming.

"Y/N-" Manabu tries to say as you turn.

"No. I'm done. Good luck with your life Naoi" you turn away letting the tears flow as you start to jog away.

Almost on cue the sky opens up and rain pours down on your head. This is just like one of those awful romance novels. The girl gets dumped by the love of her life only for rain to continue to dampen her day. Just fucking fantastic.

This was quite literally the worst day of your life.

*8 years later*

"Y/N darling can you please water the flowers outside. I forgot to have Vee do it this morning" Your boss asks you politely with a smile.

"Of course! Let me just finish this arrangement and I'll get to watering. You can head home if you like Bella. I know your poor husband must be starving waiting for you" you giggle as Bella rolls her eyes.

"Let him die. No good worthless piece of crap. Couldn't even take the garbage out last night like I asked him too" Bella huffed as she walked over to your table.

"Stay single Y/N, trust me getting married is for the birds. Sure you meet some handsome young man and he charms his way into your life but the MINUTE he says 'I do' its all down hill from there" Bella says to you as she sternly shakes her finger.

You can't help but laugh. Bella is in her 70s and has been married to the same man for 50 years. He's really very kind and helpful in the shop when he comes and visits. Sometimes you think Bella expects too much from her husband but she's quick to shut you up.

"If you don't establish dominance Y/N, these men will walk all over you! You are young and beautiful. You don't want any man. And if you do, find one who will worship the ground you walk on. A man who will lay his coat over a pile of manure for you to walk. A man who will put your pleasure before his own" she says as she lectures you for the 10th time this week.

Bella loved you like her own daughter. Her son had moved away years ago and wasn't around much. She often invited you and Vee to have dinner with her and her husband. The dinners were entertaining to say the least. Usually ending with Bella ranting about how naive women now a days are or how shallow men are.

You enjoyed your time with Bella and her husband even if you didn't share the same sentiment as Bella did.

You hadn't been on a date in over a year. Every relationship seemed to go the same way. There was never a connection. You tried hard through college and after to find someone but always managed to come up empty.

After you graduated college, you took a high paying job in Tokyo. While you were more than qualified for the job, it provided you with little pleasure. It wasn't until you stumbled into Bella's flower shop that you found yourself truly happy.

Surrounded by beautiful flowers and arrangements. It was like heaven. You returned to Bellas weekly to get a bouquet. Soon you found yourself becoming friends with Vee and Bella. It wasn't until Bella mentioned needing help that you made the decision to quite your job and start anew. While the jobs pay was much less than you had become accustom too, your lifestyle really didn't change. You sold your suits in exchange for overhauls, shorts and t-shirts. You got accustomed to dirt below your fingers rather than finely manicure nails. Sure it was a big change but you were so much happier.

You're days were long and busy. Often starting early and closing late. You didn't have family close by, and no significant other so you often took extra shifts and offered to help so the other two ladies could enjoy their husband's.

Both ladies knew about your past dating relationships and the "one that got away" as they so ironically referred to it.

You couldn't lie to yourself. You often thought of Naoi Manabu.

What was he doing?

You were sure he had to be married by now. It had been 8 years since you had last seen him.

After you broke up, you avoided the man like the plague. It helped you only had a week before school ended and you graduated. It didn't seem like he was too worked up over your break up. You had spent far too many nights crying over him.

You felt like you had lost the love of your life.

You, in fact, had.

💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐

"KENMAAAA" Coach Nekomata screams "stop running from the ball! We've been over this a million times!"

"I'd like to keep my limbs thanks" Kuzome Kenma whispers as he turns back to see Kuroo Tetsuro snickering.

"Kenma you act like you've never blocked a ball in your entire life" Kuroo teases the setter mercerously.

"Well I wouldn't have to if someone had read into the switch" Kenma glares at Kuroo who's smile drops.

"Alright that's enough" Naoi shouts as the boys return to their practice match.

He sits next to Coach Nekomata as he sighs "do you think they will be ready for nationals? We've only got a month before we leave. They've still got a long way to-"

"Naoi have faith. They will be ready. They are strong" Coach Nekomata smiles as he watches the boys continue to practice.

The game ends as the boys begin to pack up the gym.

Yaku Morisuke sighs as he finishes his stretches.

"Yaku what's got you bothered" Kuroo says as he kneels down to the team libero.

"I'm just thinking about Mai. I really like her but how do I even tell her. Confessing isn't really my strong suit" Yaku says as he rubs the back of his head.

"How about chocolates? Or maybe flowers?" Kuroo says with a smug grin "girls love flowers!"

"Tsk like you'd know Mr. Periodic Table" Kenma says non-chalantly as he walks by.

Yamamoto Taketora and Haiba Lev laugh at the rooster headed team captain as he glares at the 2nd year setter

"Are you even sure she likes short guys Yaku?" Lev laughs as the team shakes their head.

Yaku runs up to Lev kicking him straight in his back.

"Dumbass" Yamamoto shakes his head as he puts the remaining volleyballs away.

"Why don't we go check out that flower shop on the way home? What's it called like Bella's or something. It looks pretty nice" Kuroo says as he gestures to Yaku.

"Kai, you coming?" Kuroo says to his fellow third year and co-captain, Kai Nobuyuki.

"Sure I'll tag along" Kai speaks softly with a smile.

"Alright guys good practice! Remember we have practice this Saturday as well in preparation for nationals" Naoi shouts as the boys groan.

"And Kenma no skipping out. I'll have Kuroo drag you here if he has to" Naoi glares at Kenma who shakes rolls his eyes and huffs.

The boys showered and change, preparing to head to the flower shop as they wave their fellow teammates off.

Naoi boards the train heading home to his small apartment. To say things have gone to plan in his life would be an understatement. While he was doing what he loved, his love life was lacking to say the very least. He had tried numerous relationships, only to have them fail because he could never fully commit. He often found himself in a one-sided relationship where his partner would confess their love but he couldn't.

It became draining for the people he was with so he ultimately stayed single. He knew, in fact, what the problem was. The problem was that he had messed up the only relationship that mattered to him. He'd blown his chances with the only person whom he ever truly loved.

He had blown his chance with you.

When he decided to break up with you, he really thought it was for the best. He knew you had a bright future ahead of you and he couldn't help but feel like he was weighing you down. He thought it would be best to let go before it became impossible. Not that it wasn't hard to do. It broke him.

He found himself unable to date for years. You had been his first everything and you had been it. He eventually forced himself to move on. Having one night stands and short term relationships but never more. Commitment was hard when it wasn't you. He still kept the ring he had wanted to give you for your third anniversary.

Unfortunately he never got the chance to after he inevitably broke you heart. He often found himself staring at it, wondering how life would have been if he had in fact stayed with you.

By now you must be married with babies he thought to himself. It hurt to think about but he knew it would never be. You'd never be his. And he'd never be truly happy.

[pain-in-the-asguardian]

Texts

(On A03 here)

15 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  Just you wait.  Imma find you yo.

[To: Phones]: Ill bring you back.

[To: Phones]:  You gotta hang in there

16 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  That Reaper did something dammit.  Its like only me an Shiki remember you.

[To: Phones]:  But dont worry once I get ya back well fix this.

[To: Phones]:  Gonna scour Shibuya till I find out whats goin on.

17 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  You better be alive Phones.

[To: Phones]:  Ya know what I mean…

18 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  AARGH

[To: Phones]:  Aint no sign of any Reapers.  They gotta be here.

[To: Phones]:  Ill figure this out

20 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  Aint stopped searching.  I know you out there

[To: Phones]:  I can feel it yo.  You can too right?

[To: Phones]:  We still synced I know it.

22 November 2018

[To: Phones]: still looking

[To: Phones]:  Are you even getting these

[To: Phones]:  Aint matter…

[To: Phones]:  Your number ain’t showin as disconnected.  Thats something.

13 November 2018

[To: Phones]: I guess this ain’t a normal Reapers Game.  Youd be back now…

[To: Phones]: Not like any of us expected it to be.

25 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  Had a weird dream.

[To: Phones]: Like I was figthin by your side again.  But I aint know where it was.

[To: Phones]: Not Shibuya.

29 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  Still nothing.  Aint gonna stop me.

[To: Phones]:  I miss you… (unsent)

1 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  Still looking.

5 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  Raining.  Skating in the rain kind of sucks.

7 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  Had that weird dream again.

[To: Phones]:  I know that means you still out there.

10 December 2018

[To: Phones]: You better be hanging in there.

[To: Phones]:  I aint think it was gonna take this long.

[To: Phones]:  Even if ya got screwed over like our Game… you should be back by now right?

[To: Phones]:  They really pulling some shit.

[To: Phones]:  I can’t stand it yo.

15 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  It actually snowed a bit.  Weird.

[To: Phones]:  Maybe one day Ill learn to snowboard.

17 December 2018

[To: Phones]: Had to take a family holiday photo ugh.

[To: Phones]:  If the Reapers is looking for more ways to torture people

[To: Phones]:  That’s one of them.

20 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  It’s COLD.  I hope it aint like this where you are.

23 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  Dont think Im giving up yo.

[To: Phones]:  Had that dream again.

24 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  Rhyme made like 300 Christmas cookies.

25 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  Merry Christmas

[To: Phones]: I ate too much

17 December 2018

[To: Phones]: Dammit where ARE you.

1 January 2019

[To: Phones]:  New year new chances to find you.

5 January 2019

[To: Phones]:  You holdin up?

10 January 2019

[To: Phones]: Still cold.

17 January 2019

[To: Phones]:  Shiki and Eri’s are gonna try selling their stuff

20 January 2019

[To: Phones]:  IM GONNA FIND YOU DAMN IT

[To: Phones]: I can still feel it.  I know you there even if you aint get these.

23 January 2019

[To: Phones]:  You got Partners again?  I hope you ain’t alone…

[To: Phones]:  It’s been so long

[To: Phones]:  But these are still going through…

[To: Phones]: And I can still feel you.  I know thats what this feeling is.

27 January 2019

[To: Phones]: Aint giving up

[To: Phones]:  I miss you.  (unsent)

[To: Phones]:  You should be here by now (unsent)

1 February 2019

[To: Phones]: Shiki and Eri’s stuff is really takin’ off.

12 February 2019

[To: Phones]:  Sorry school and shit getting to me

[To: Phones]: Even if I aint check in Im still here

[To: Phones]: And still looking

20 February 2019

[To: Phones]: You better be kickin Noise and Reaper ass yo.

3 March 2019

[To: Phones]:  Rhyme is really into computers now

[To: Phones]: I ain’t understand shit.

[To: Phones]:  At least she aint talk like Tabooty

17 March 2019

[To: Phones]: You better be ok.

27 March 2019

[To: Phones]: I totally aced a test today!

29 March 2019

[To: Phones]:  That dream…

[To: Phones]:  Where ARE you (unsent)

5 April 2019

[To: Phones]:  Still looking

12 April 2019

[To: Phones]: Thought by now I’d track down at least one Reaper yo.

[To: Phones]: Aint like Pixie Chick blends in

20 April 2019

[To: Phones]: Damn it Phones where the hell are you

[To: Phones]:  Shibuya feels like its moving on

[To: Phones]: Its just wrong yo.

27 April 2019

[To: Phones]:  I know there’s Reapers in the RG

[To: Phones]: I swear I’ll find ‘em and make 'em talk.

5 May 2019

[To: Phones]: Is this hopeless?  (unsent)

[To: Phones]:  Well I guess we know who’s got the higher Noise Erased count now.

20 May 2019

[To: Phones]:  I think I’ve memorized every side street and alleyway in this city.

[To: Phones]: When you back Ill be able to show you around blindfolded.

2 June 2019

[To: Phones]:  HOT.

13 June 2019

[To: Phones]: People really love Mr. Mew

[To: Phones]: Shiki an Eri might be getting an actual shop to sell stuff in.

24 June 2019

[To: Phones]: I want to go to the beach.

[To: Phones]: You ever gone there?

[To: Phones]: Can’t imagine you in trunks.

[To: Phones]: akljf;ds

5 July 2019

[To: Phones]:  How you holdin up

18 July 2019

[To: Phones]: Who decided hot and sticky was a good temperature for anything

29 July 2019

[To: Phones]: I aint giving up you better not either.

1 August 2019

[To: Phones]:  Rhyme is scary good with computers.  She said something about hacking.  Should I be afraid?

17 August 2019

[To: Phones]: Guess who fought a cicada.

22 August 2019

[To: Phones]: The hell is with these dreams.

5 September 2019

[To: Phones]: I ain’t know how many times Ive walked the same streets.

6 September 2019

[To: Phones]: Dont think that last text means I given up. I aint.

20 September 2019

[To: Phones]: This city has changed so much. So many new places.

[To: Phones]: Can’t wait to show you.

1 October 2019

[To: Phones]:  How many Noise you beat by now?

10 October 2019

[To: Phones]: Everyone wants to go to Shibuya Halloween this year.

31 October 2019

[To: Phones]: THIS WAS A BAD IDEA I AIN’T NEVER SEEN SO MANY PEOPLE.

[To: Phones]:  It took 45 minutes to leave the station and get across the Scramble.

[To: Phones]: We were all bullied into wearing Mr. Mew costumes.

[To: Phones]: Rhyme wants me to clarify that only I was bullied.

7 November 2019

[To: Phones]: Really hoped with all those Halloween vibes that maybe something would turn up.

[To: Phones]: All that stuff about ghosts and shit.

[To: Phones]: Still nothing.

20 November 2019

[To: Phones]: I ain’t giving up.

1 December 2019

[To: Phones]: It’s December again…

19 December 2019

[To: Phones]: You really gotta see all these lights

[To: Phones]:  One day.

20 December 2019

[To: Phones]: No escape from Family Holiday Photos.

24 December 2019

[To: Phones]: Too many Christmas cookies.

25 December 2019

[To: Phones]: Merry Christmas kick some Noise ass.

1 January 2020

[To: Phones]: This will be the year.

1 February 2020

[To: Phones]: Ok so maybe it wasn’t the month. But it’s still gonna be the year.

4 March 2020

[To: Phones]: Im sorry I couldnt find you sooner (unsent)

[To: Phones]: This is takin longer than I thought.

17 March 2020

[To: Phones]: You got this.

1 April 2020

[To: Phones]: Aint giving up.

1 May 2020

[To: Phones]: Sorry… school and shit.

[To: Phones]: Dont worry though.  Im still here.

[To: Phones]: I know you are too.

1 June 2020

[To: Phones]:  I hope its cooler wherever you are.

1 July 2020

[To: Phones]: Even CAT hasn’t done anything in months.  I wonder what happened to Mr H.

1 August 2020

[To: Phones]:  Still get those dreams once in a while

[To: Phones]: Do you…

1 September 2020

[To: Phones]: Fall again…

1 October 2020

[To: Phones]: Ok this year we’ll be prepared for Shibuya Halloween.

31 October 2020

[To: Phones]:  Ok ain’t no way to prepare for that.

[To: Phones]: One of these days you gonna suffer with us.

1 November 2020

[To: Phones]:  I will find you.  No matter how long it takes.

1 December 2020

[To: Phones]:  December again…

[To: Phones]: Damn it.

[To: Phones]: Please be alright.

1 January 2021

[To: Phones]: OK THIS YEAR.  I KNOW IT.

[To: Phones]: I wonder what you look like now.

[To: Phones]: Will I recognize you? (unsent)

10 January 2021

[To: Phones]: Fuck.  College is next year…

1 February 2021

[To: Phones]: Gatto Nero is gonna get a shop in 104!  Can you believe it?

1 March 2021

[To: Phones]: Rhyme says she working on something.  Iono what that means…

1 April 2021

[To: Phones]: That dream again.  Something feels different yo.

1 May 2021

[To: Phones]: Somethin’s weird.  Aint had a feeling like this in a long time.

[To: Phones]: Hang in there.

1 June 2021

[To: Phones]: Pins are getting popular again. Even Gatto Nero’s getting’ in on it.  You outta see these designs!

1 July 2021

[To: Phones]: Rhyme says she close to a breakthrough.  I aint know on what but she says its gonna help.

27 July 2021

[To: Phones]: Something is definitely goin down yo.  You feel it too?

[To: Phones]: We close, I know it.

[To: Phones]: This time fo sho.

[To: Phones]: You comin home.

[miss-nov]

Over-Emotional: Danny Phantom Oneshot.

Original idea by @amabsis on their post right here!!

[Originally written on a reblog of the prompt but it went all screwy and left an incomplete version so I made it it's own post and I've made a few grammar and spelling edits. Sorry for any confusion!!]

(This is the first thing I've ever written for the DP Phandom so I apologize if it's a little OOC)

⚠️(TW: DESCRIPTIONS OF A PANIC ATTACK AND GORE!!!!!)⚠️

  Danny drifted through the skies of Amity Park, following the streets which were slick with recent rain. The stars twinkled merrily above and the beams from the street lights seemed to buzz through the comforting, crisp air. Not a sound disrupted the mellow atmosphere and ghosts had appeared to leave tonight alone and retired to their lairs. A soothing night such as this would have been Danny's favorite; it would have been a much needed break from his overly stressful life.

  Yet Danny couldn't shake off the creeping apprehension even as he twisted in and out of alleyways back into the lit roads.

  His parents had been working tirelessly  on a project that they wouldn't tell him and Jazz about. Jack, their father, would always jump at the chance to describe what he was doing and couldn't keep his antics quiet for long. Maddie's, their mother, eyes would have brightened as she recounted the innovate idea she had conjured and the necessary calculations she could toy around with. These facts coupled with Jazz and Danny casually inquiring about their latest project would make them incredibly ecstatic.

  But whenever the two had asked about it, put off by the unusual quiet of the parents, had only been given an amused smile and an occasional wink.

  Tonight, before Danny's patrol and during dinner, Jazz had managed to weasel some information out of them. Though, it left more questions than answers.

  "So, you guys have been in the lab a lot recently," Jazz said conversationally. "Working on some new ghost stuff? It seems important if you're spending most of the day down there."

  Maddie had given her a deliberate look like someone who'd finally decided to take a second cookie.

  "It's our greatest invention yet," she said lowly and excitedly. "I think your dad and I have found the solution to our little ghost problem."

  The siblings gulped and tried to suppress their shudders.

  "It's not going to hurt them is it? Phantom and the other ghosts." Jazz's voice was even and didn't show a hint of a tone shift.

  "Surprisingly, no. No harm will be dealt to them. It's not like they can feel anyway. That's exactly the problem," Jack chimed excitedly before going back to his ectoplasm contaminated lasagna.

  "Besides, we wouldn't want to hurt the object of our daughter's affection.  We all know about your crush on Phantom," Maddie teased but then added with a small frown. "Though it's not healthy to have a crush on ghosts at all."

 Jazz gave an aggressive gagging noise and Danny was torn between hysterical laughter and a gag of his own. Dinner resumed as normal —well, as normal as you could get being a Fenton— and Danny took note of the fact his parents had refused to say anymore.

  Danny was busy going over and dissecting the conversation and lax in his attention to his surroundings by the inactivity that he didn't notice the two shadow-cloaked figures tailing him. The taller one with a broader build was holding an intimidating gun, that looked like it was straight out of an eighties sci-fi movie, on his back.

  Maybe I should head back, Danny thought to himself. I have so much homework due and a test tomorrow. A pop quiz in calculus and a lab in science. I have to meet Nathan at my study hall period and at lunch. Liz needs my help…

  On and on the list went as Danny subtlety started flying home. Just thinking of things that needed done was making him more anxious and tired.

  "Phantom, we'll have you now," Jack cried, his voice echoing in the hollow streets.

  Danny turned around, slightly aggravated when he was struck by a violet beam and plummeted, crashing to the sidewalk.

  "Jack! I told you to wait," Maddie chastised as they walked over to Danny who had barely sat up.

  His head swam and Maddie and Jack looked like the reflections of a carnival fun house mirror. Though his vision corrected itself quickly.

  "I think you might have given him a concussion. But that doesn't make sense, ghosts don't have brains," Maddie said, slightly confused. She reached out to gingerly place her fingertips on Danny's temple and he flinched.

  "Don't touch me!!" Danny had yelled louder then he meant to and his voice came out with an extra echo; like he had been about to use his ghostly wail. The three stilled before Danny began crawling backwards, keeping his eyes on Jack and Maddie at all times.

  "I don't wanna hurt you," Danny whimpered and tears sprang to eyes like a line of men ready to battle. Why the hell was he crying!? He didn't cry easy, at least not of late, and he'd been in these situations and worse without crying so why was he breaking down now??

  Maddie looked at him with wide eyes and her hand, which had still been suspended in shock, dropped to her belt and Danny panicked.

  "Don't hurt me!" Danny tried to pick himself up to fly, to get the hell out of dodge but when he went to stand his vision and black an —god why were his veins burning with adrenaline???

  Danny's chest was caving, that was the only explanation as his ribs seized and threatened to crush his lungs. His heart had left its place and sprinted from the back of his throat down to right beneath his collarbone before starting all over again. Has his hands always been this sweaty??? Tremors wracked through his limbs —he couldn't deal with this now!! He needed to finish his Hamlet essay, and review his history notes, and hadn't Liz asked him to buy popsicle sticks for their art project??? That's what he had forgotten!! He can't think of this now!! Maddie and Jack could easily catch him now —but oh, God was he screwed when —if— when he went to school the next day.

  "Phantom, you're having a panic attack," Maddie said calmly.

  "No, shit there, Sherlock." Danny bit his bottom lip to prevent another scathing comment from escaping. Usually he had better control of his mouth believe it or not. He put his head between his knees, closing his eyes and trying to focus on, well, nothing. He felt tears slip from his eyes and barely stopped himself from screaming.

  "You know what a panic attack is?" Jack titled his head as he scanned over his shaking form.

  "Jack did you put the settings up too high while we were following him?"

  "Of course not! I was very careful not to bounce anything out of place. You've Done the math, four times, it should be perfectly calibrated." Jack twisted the purple and silver metallic gun in his hands, giving it a thorough look over.

  "What the fuck are you two talking about!!" The scientists' head whipped back to see Danny's eyes glowing a tad brighter than before and his mouth transfixed into a snarl. Maddie slid a careful hand to her holster.

  "Our newest invention. Ghosts, well most of them, are just whispers of feelings that people once had. They can't actually feel and so they do bad things or... or they mimic human behaviors really well to make it seem like they do, like they're human." Maddie's voice trailed off at the end as if seeing if he would explode.

  Danny felt that normally he would have but he started to hyperventilate. How was he going to reverse it??? Was there even a way to do so or did they not include a reverse button by mistake (on purpose?) like they had mistakenly put the 'on' button inside the portal??

  "We're going to take you to the lab. Check your... concussion and to stabilize your mood. Run a few tests..."

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodoh—

   They would strap him down and cut and lay his chest open like a butterfly steak and their hungry eyes would roam over him and their hands would devour him by pulling at his nerve endings and removing his organs and Danny would scream until his voice was hoarse and then some like a helpless lamb. Would he bleed blood or ectoplasm when they drained him? Would they take turns as he bleed out?? Or would they flow out together like some sort of demented, holiday dinner?? Or—

  "Phantom! You need to calm down." Maddie was at his side (when had she gotten there?) and was squeezing his hand. Danny briefly noted her eyes were filled with worry as her goggles hung at her neck. "Just breathe with me okay, please."

  "Breathe with her, buddy" Jack, who sat on the other side of Danny, whispered as he gently rubbed circles on the boy's lower back. "It's gonna be okay. We aren't going to hurt you."

  Danny wanted to say a smart aleck remark about them not having the same sentiment five minutes ago but instead focused on his breathing. He faced his head skyward and tried to count the stars. Nothing but him and the stars, no home— just the stars.

  Danny was reminded of the time he went stargazing with the rest of his family. A rare occasion as Maddie and Jack seemed to always be working. They had smiled so big at him as he pointed out constellations, awestruck. Jazz had nodded along as she listened attentively with a smile of her own. The night hadn't been more clear in months and more stars then usually were out. The picnic blanket they laid on was soft and him and Jazz had rested in between their parents and God they had been so happy then—

  Danny let out an involuntary sob. The melancholy seemed to come from the depths of his chest but at least it seemed to push out the panic.

  "Phantom," Maddie asked as she huddled closer to him. Phantom, not Danny. It hadn't really bothered him before; they didn't know it was him so why would they call him by his name?

  But it still made him cry harder. He wanted to tell them. He wanted to so, so bad.

  Jazz had urged him to tell them. But Danny had always been afraid. Scared that they wouldn't want him anymore.

  Now the sadness had overwhelmed the fear and the panic. He felt so isolated even when his parents were next to him, right there, trying to coax him into being calm. He had to tell them. He had to do it now because he wouldn't be this impulsive again.

  He felt the white rings gloss over him and heard Jack yell out "Phantom". When it was over he heard them gasp.

  "D-Danny," Maddie choked out.

   "I'm so sorry," Danny said through his tears. He chanted it over and over again as his parents reassured him that he had nothing to be sorry for and that they should apologize.

  The three sat there for quite some time, huddled close and crying together.

  Soon they would head home and take care of Danny's quickly healing concussion and reverse the effects of the gun. They would ask questions tomorrow after school but, for now, they tucked him into bed, something they hadn't done since he was eleven, and gave him their good night kisses on his temple before creeping to their room unaware of Jazz watching them from her bedroom door. She would text Sam and Tucker an explanation and ask them to give Danny the answers to the homework in the morning. She slipped into bed and fell asleep.

  The streets were barely slick with rain anymore. The stars twinkled merrily and the street lights buzzed. The crisp, cool air was calm and mellow. The night soothing and the Fentons were a family once again.

[angstyaches]

Go To Him

For the love of god will someone just take care of this boy -

CW: nightmare with body horror elements, anxiety, nausea, confusion and muddled thoughts, fever, the babe is generally ✨unwell✨, reference to grief for a parent, angst

___

Shayne had dreamt of his voice since the first time Charlie had ever tried to comfort him. Ever since he learned that his name could be said with something other than disgust or reluctance, he’d heard himself being called from all corners of the earth as he slept. Ever since he learned that hands could be used for holding, not just for pinning down and hurting, he’d reached for them under the sheets, often failing to find them.

Ever since he started to consider that there was more to life than what he’d been raised for, his dreams had been in colour. This dream was green.

The grass was dark and glistening with fallen rain as clouds gathered and promised that more would fall. The freezing cold jar lay emptily in his hands, its weight boring into his skin and searing its meaning into him. This is what you are. His jaw ached from being unhinged, and it snapped sharply as he tried to stretch it out. The jar fell from his hands as he clutched at it, terrified that his whole head might fall apart under the force of the pain.

He wanted to call out for Charlie. He was scared and confused and hurting, and Charlie always seemed to ease those feelings.

But when his jaw clicked into place, he opened his mouth and he said his own name instead. Or rather, something said his name through his mouth, but it wasn’t his voice.

“Shayne,” it said softly, and he clutched at his own throat as something else grabbed at it from the inside. “Let me out.”

///

He woke like he’d been stunned, lying rigid at the edge of the bed as his eyes stared widely across the room. For a moment – a nice one, in retrospect – he couldn’t remember why he’d woken, but when he did, it hit hard.

He stumbled into the bathroom, hands shaking and shoulder colliding with the doorframe on the way. One hand was pressed to his stomach and he was already doubled over before he reached the toilet.

Get it out, get it out, get it out of me, he almost cried, forcing out sobs and dry heaves that jerked him further forward across the toilet seat. He realised that the it in his plea had almost been a him, he’d almost called the demon a him, a familiar him, a beloved him –

And then he remembered that it was a dream.

“Fuck,” he gasped, closing his eyes in relief. The tension left him so quickly he swore he felt every one of his joints pop. It was a dream, it was a dream; there was nothing in his stomach that had the ability to talk back to him, and it was certainly not Charlie Two. It’d been days since he’d even devoured a demon.

When he was able to stand, he leaned over the sink and sipped some running water, hoping it would calm his stomach rather than agitate it. In the mirror, he looked more washed-out than he usually did between devouring. His ears were ringing, and his chest hurt, probably from waking up with such intense anxiety. It was as though the nightmare had carved something out of him, left him longing in a way he wasn’t used to, and the first thing he found when he followed that thread of emotion was Mum, I want my mum. A sharp pain rose in his throat at the thought and he quickly smothered it, and the next one was of Charlie.

Charlie. Something might have happened to him. Right? It made perfect sense in the moment, while his body was shaking, and his head felt like a swamp. Maybe the dream was supposed to be a sign or a warning or a –

And the next thought was so crazy and obvious that he shook his head at it, refused to meet his own gaze in the mirror, fearing he would all too easily talk himself out of it.

Go to him.

___

Shayne was used to pain and general unpleasantness in his body. He was never surprised when a demon tried to claw its way out of him, turning his stomach and burning his throat with bile and making him throw up all kinds of crap as its essence broke up inside of him.

But he wasn’t familiar with this different sort of ache that was crawling up his chest and throat. Instead of something that rushed like a waterfall, this was more like a glacier, sending chills through his organs and making him shudder involuntarily. He missed his bed and his hot water bottle. Hell, he would have accepted a burning-hot hug from Elliott if he’d been there. And he absolutely wished he’d worn something more than just a t-shirt and his leather jacket.

No doubt he was isolated on the train because people were taking one glance and deciding that he had some kind of plague. Not that he was complaining about that. What he could have complained about, however, was the swirling nausea in his belly that he couldn’t find any relief from, the pressure in his head that made his ears ring, the grating agony in his lungs and throat. When he looked out the window at the dark countryside passing by, the undersides of his eyes were black in his reflection.

Finally, finally, he heard the name of a familiar stop. His legs were next to useless as he attempted to get to the door of the train, resting his head against a wall as he waited for it to stop, for the doors to open, and he damn-near almost fell asleep on his feet.

___

He’d forgotten his phone, he realised as he stood in the entranceway of the train station. Then again, he couldn’t forget something he’d never intended to bring in the first place. The thought just hadn’t occurred to him, not even while he’d been scribbling down a quick explanation for Felix and Elliott so that they’d know where he’d gone. 

He remembered the way to the Waters’ new house from the station, even though he had been in a car last time he’d come; but it was bucketing down rain and he didn’t have so much as a hood to pull up.

He wondered if he’d have called Charlie at that point, if he could, and asked him to come and get him. Probably not. That would mean putting him out even more than he was already planning to.

The rain made itself part of his clothes so quickly he might as well have gone swimming in them.

___

Evening was closing in on the housing estate when he got there, after what felt like hours but was probably only one in reality. The curtains were drawn in the front room, leaving a faint glow around the edges to indicate life inside. Shayne’s breath stuck in his throat as he stepped onto the porch, finally out of the downpour.

He couldn’t believe how uncomfortable his eyes felt in his head, how high the pain had risen in his throat, how shaky his limbs were. He was starting to wonder if this whole day had been an extension of that messed-up dream. Charlie would know. Charlie would tell him why he was feeling like this… 

Charlie would make it better...

The doorbell faded in and out of his vision, and the first time he reached for it, his palm touched the glass pane of the door instead. Shit. If his throat and mouth and chest hadn’t felt so unbearably dry, he’d have thought he was about to throw up. It was stupid, actually, how dry and hot he felt inside while his outsides were drenched.

Shayne tried for the doorbell again, succeeding in ringing it this time. Doubt crept up his spine as droplets of rain fell from his hair and down his face. He was suddenly nervous on top of everything else, the sensation gnawing at his gut. He hadn’t thought about what he was going to say; thinking usually felt like taking steps through his thoughts, but right now it was like trying to tread water with weights tied to his feet.

He folded his arms tightly around himself, grimacing against the urge to just curl up on the doorstep and cry until someone came to get him.

The door clicked as it unlocked.

“Shayne!” Trevor exclaimed as he opened it. Shayne couldn’t tell if it was a question or not. “What are – what are you doing here?”

Ingrid came to the door too, when she heard her husband’s voice rise. Her eyes were wide and so was her mouth, as she pulled the front of her dressing gown more firmly around herself with folded arms.

“Sweetie, it’s lashing rain!” she exclaimed, peering out past the doorstep as though checking the driveway and sidewalk for a car. “Did you walk here from the station?”

“I-I – yeah, I heard – I heard from Charlie… kind of, not really, and… and… well, it was a dream, but he was – I h-hurt him, or it - it was a demon, I just don’t… I-I mean, I think it was just – just a nightmare, but they’re – the demons, my foster parents, everything’s – maybe…”

Shayne heard it, he heard how awful his voice sounded through his battered throat, and how little sense he was making, but he couldn’t seem to stop talking.

“And… and I had to see him, I’m – I know it’s late and it’s n-not okay to just show up uninvited, but I was s-so fucking worried about – sorry. Shit, I-I didn’t m-mean to swear just now, I…”

Both their faces fell as he stopped talking, and his stomach did too.

“Shayne, sweetie,” Ingrid said. “Charlie doesn’t live here.”

It took the words a moment to penetrate the fog in Shayne’s head and click into place. The way the two of them were standing in the doorway suddenly made sense, their shoulders tensed and their bodies forming a barrier he couldn’t cross. He wasn’t a guy coming to see his friend, he was a guy trying to get into their home on a random, rainy night.

“He…” Shayne blinked and felt himself start to sway.

“He didn’t tell you?” Trevor demanded incredulously, the rise in his voice making Shayne flinch. “He went back to Mulberry after the holidays. He’s finishing school there.”

“I… no, he’s…” Shayne’s skin tingled with hot-and-cold panic, his ears rang with in trouble, in trouble, you’re in trouble. He lowered his gaze, looking at how the rain lay in patches on the painted floorboards in the porch, carried there by the wind, or by him. “No, I’m – I’m s-sorry, I didn’t...”

He felt Charlie’s parents stare at him for a few moments longer before the embarrassment settled firmly in the pit of his stomach. And when it did, it made every hair on his body bristle, made the tears finally spring to his eyes, made his shoulders lift stiffly towards his ears.

“S-sorry,” he choked out, stepping back from the door. “I – I’ll just…”

“Sweetie,” Ingrid sighed, reaching into the rain to pull him back onto the porch. “At least come inside and get dry. One of us will drive you back to the station.”

Shayne whimpered at the hand gripping his upper arm, fear crawling into the space where anger usually flared whenever he was grabbed. He was too exhausted to fight or struggle, and he didn’t want to fight Ingrid anyway.

“Oh, my god.” Ingrid lifted her hand, and Shayne flinched, the fog in his brain making him think that he was going to be slapped. Instead, she brushed back some dripping-wet hair, and rested a cool palm on his forehead. “Trev? I think he’s got a temperature.”

Trevor said something in response, but Shayne closed his eyes to all of it, unable to think about anything but the blissfully cool hand that was taken away again. If tears fell from his eyes, they were undistinguishable from the rainwater. The cold and the wet were seeping into his bones, his body getting ready to give up.

“Do you have a phone number for the people he’s staying with?” Trevor asked gently.

“No, but I can look up the number for his foster parents –”

“N-no,” he gasped, putting a hand to the wall again as his vision started to go black. “N-no, no, no, no, you ca-can’t call Madelyn, don’t call Madelyn, don’t tell her where I am, she’ll hu– I-I can’t let her find you, I can’t… can’t let her hurt Charlie…”

“Alright, come on, son. Come on, no – no, no, don’t collapse just yet. There you go, come on…”

There were hands on him again, but there wasn’t anything left for him to care with. All he knew was that those hands weren’t Charlie’s, they weren’t his mum’s, and that second thought stuck in the back of his throat like a shard of glass.

He was vaguely aware of being led through the house, remembered noticing when the sound of the rain faded softly into the background instead of pelting down all around him. He was handed a towel and pyjamas and shown to the bathroom, all of it tinged in warm pink tones and cold shivers. He remembered saying yes when they asked if he would be okay by himself; he was always okay by himself. He was used to being okay by himself. He wouldn’t ask for anything more, because asking led to –

“I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything.” Ingrid’s hand on his shoulder, her face slowly coming into focus for all of a few seconds. “Okay?”

“’Kay,” he whispered, the shard tightening in his throat as she left him alone in the bathroom and shut the door. His clothes were dripping, and sank heavily as he put them on the floor. The shower was already running for him, not hot enough to produce a lot of steam. Still hotter than what got at either of his vampire-run homes.

Shayne lost his breath for a moment, feeling so dizzy he thought he might pass out. He could only manage to stand under the water long enough to be sure the rainwater was washed off. The pyjama pants and hoodie that he’d been given smelled just like Charlie, which he couldn’t decide was better or worse than nothing at all. They felt crisp against his skin, he instantly knew they’d been tumble-dried.

“Are you okay?” Ingrid called through the door not long after he’d shut the water off.

“Fine,” he tried to say, but the word caught in the back of his throat and he coughed, wondering for a second if he was about to be sick. He turned towards the sink, hands shaking as he held onto it, but the clenching in his chest had nothing to do with his stomach, and everything to do with his lungs, which felt like they had a mixture of feathers and pins thrashing inside of them.

“Sweetie?” Ingrid pushed the door open a few inches. “Are you dressed? Can I come in?”

“Yeah, I-I’m…” Shayne tried to clear his throat, though he only succeeded in making his voice even more gravelly. “I’m fine, sorry.”

Ingrid put out an arm for him to hold onto as he eased himself away from the sink. He head felt like it was being balanced on a toothpick.

“Let’s get you settled in Charlie’s bed,” she said, and it took a moment for Shayne to remember that Charlie wouldn’t actually be there. “You can sleep here tonight, but we have to contact someone and let them know where you are. Won’t your aunts be worried about you?”

“I left –” Shayne winced and swallowed back the urge to cough again, not wanting to unleash whatever he was carrying so close to Ingrid. “Left a m-message for… my cousin.”

“Alright,” Ingrid said, though she sounded dubious. “If you’re feeling better tomorrow, I’ll drive you back to the train station.”

Shayne wondered what was going to happen if he didn’t feel better in the morning, because right then it felt like his brain was never going to go back to the way it had been before it had become a dense, foggy wasteland for his thoughts. He had no idea how he got up the stairs, or which of Charlie’s parents had brought him a cup of hot lemon for his throat, or at what point the tears started again, because all of a sudden he was in the middle of crying softly into a pillow that was quickly losing its pleasantly cool temperature, and he wanted his mum.

“Shayne.” Trevor’s weight dipped the side of the mattress slightly. Once again, hearing his name in a stern voice made Shayne’s anxiety spike right up, skewering everything else he was feeling.

He jumped when Trevor touched his shoulder from outside the duvet, a nervous whimper scraping at his throat.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Trevor assured him, holding a mobile phone out towards him. “Here. It’s Charlie.”

“Charlie?” Shayne’s vision blurred a little as he tried to focus on the phone. “Can… Can I talk to him?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m giving you the phone, son.”

Shayne’s hands were shaking as he untangled an arm from the duvet. He took the phone and held it to his ear, watching as Trevor smiled and got to up leave. He held his breath for a moment, silence tickling his nerves, before some part of his fog-addled brain remembered that the person picking up the phone had to say something to let the other person know they were there.

“Hello,” he said in a tiny voice that still managed to strain his vocal cords.

“Shayne!” Charlie gasped on the other end of the phone. “Lovely, I can’t – I can’t believe you went to my parents’ place. Holy shit, are – are you okay?”

“N-no…” Shayne’s chest ached with something beyond sickness, the shivering starting up again at the sound of Charlie’s voice, probably intensified by nerves and adrenaline. “I n-needed… I thought you’d be h-here.”

“I know,” Charlie whispered, sounding like he was almost in tears himself. “I know, I know, lovely. I’m so, so sorry. I’m going to drive up first-thing tomorrow. Okay?”

“Mmm.” Shayne’s eyes closed of their own accord at the mention of sleep, his bones and his head aching to just be allowed to relax without trying to think or react to anyone. Meanwhile, his heart was clenched tight with the need to have Charlie there, to have Charlie now, and he gritted his teeth in frustration at himself. “Sorry I’m so… selfish, and childish, I-I – I don’t know what I was… thinking…”

“Selfish?”

“I want you,” Shayne breathed, burying his head lower on the pillow, blocking his own view of the room. “A-and my mum, I want my mum, Charlie…”

Charlie’s breath hitched on the phone, and he took a moment longer than usual to reply. Shayne fought back a sob, knowing that it was going to be a big one if it ever saw the light of day. He couldn’t be sure, but he couldn’t remember ever voicing those words before.

“Shayne, that’s – that’s not selfish. Okay? I promise. I – I love you so much, and I’m so fucking sorry I’m not there… I shouldn’t have lied to you about moving.”

Shayne tried to hold in the sob a little longer, but couldn’t stop his breath from hitching as coughs wracked his lungs and his frame too.

Charlie gave a quiet whimper at the sounds. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” Shayne choked out, brushing his cheek against the top sheet to dry off some of the tears. The phone was starting to feel clammy between his hand and his cheek. “I just really… don’t feel good.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

As he got his breathing under control, the sharpness of the chest pains faded back into a dull, scratchy ache. Shayne focused on the crisp white duvet that swallowed him almost all the way to the top of his head, on the glow from the touch-activated lamp on the bedside locker, which turned the magnolia walls a soft orange. There was a strange sort of quiet, the kind that lingered after a door was closed and voices hushed. A deliberate, crafted quiet.

“God,” Charlie whispered down the phone. “I wish I was there. I wish I could hold your hand right now.”

“Mmm,” Shayne agreed, though he reckoned his fingers wouldn’t have had the strength to stay furled around Charlie’s. What he really wanted was Charlie’s body curled around his back, and his arms holding onto him until the shaking stopped. Just the idea of it, and the presence of his voice - that voice - was like an extra layer of warmth between his skin and the bedsheets.

“I’m in bed, too... I’m going to stay on the phone until you drift off.” Charlie’s voice was falling into softer and softer whispers by the second. “And if you go for a nice, long sleep, I’ll be there when you wake up.”

Part Two: Charlie

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Two

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut.

a/n: not proofread fam, I didn’t have the strength. 

Masterpost

It took Harry nearly an hour to get you to calm down after you said goodbye to your grandmother at the airport. You cried the entire car ride home, and you cried for a while at home. He chalked some of it up to your hormones, but he also knew it was just hard for you to say goodbye to her.

“It really was a nice visit. I’m glad she got to stay with us.” You say to him as you lay on top of him on the sofa.

“Me too, she’s a hoot.” He rubs your back up and down. He was happy you weren’t crying anymore. “She’ll be back soon enough. She wants to go dress shoppin’ with yeh remember?”

“I know, but I don’t want her spending the money coming up for every little thing. Like if she comes up for that, she probably won’t come for the bridal shower…” You sigh.

“You both will just have to decide what’s most important.”

“I’ll definitely need her for the dress shopping. It’ll be bad enough with my mom and sisters judging every little thing I might like. Rachel’s the best at picking things out. I’d rather just go with the girls and Nannie.”

“So you should do that. Listen, this is supposed to be fun for us. Don’t worry about other people, do things the way you want to do them.”

“I suppose with Erica doing it all before me, there are things my mom can get out of her system. We’re going dress shopping with her next month. I feel like I’m about to get really busy. El said she wants her bridal party to pick out their dresses soon. And I have class…”

“Take a deep breath. You’ll get overwhelmed if you think about too much at once.”

“You’re right, sorry.”

“S’okay, I know it can be easy to get stressed out. At least we have the whole day off together today. What do you feel like doin’?”

“I’d like to have sex, but my period is really bad…”

“We could-“

“Harry, I don’t think a shower could even help right now.” You groan. “I could suck you off.”

“It’s only fun if I get to reciprocate.”

“Not true.” You scooch down his body. “Now I kinda really want it anyways.”

“Oh you do?”

“Mhm.”

You get between his legs and unzip his shorts. You kiss on his lower stomach as you palm him through his boxers. He runs a hand through your hair, as you continue. You tug everything down just enough to get his hard dick out. You spit into your right hand to stroke him for a bit, running your thumb across his tip. Harry’s breath hitches and his head rolls back. You continue to pump him while your lips wrap around his tip.

“Ugh, fuck me.” He groans, and you can’t help but smirk when you look up at him. “Wipe that look off your face, now.”

Your mouth falls open and he pushes your head down further on him. You take the hint and swirl your tongue around him. His hips thrust up and you feel him hit the back of your throat. You choke on him for a moment and you feel tears prick at your eyes. But you work through it, and swallow.

“Shit, ngh.”

You loved hearing home moan like this, it only made you want to work harder for him. You bob your head up and down, really making a mess of it. You look back up at him, trying to give him innocent eyes as you spit trailed down your chin.

“Y/N.” He breathes as he looks at you.

You pop off him just for a moment to pump him. Your other hand rests on his hip and you give it a squeeze. Your mouth goes back down on him, and you both groan.

“That’s it, baby, that’s so good, fuck.”

You cradle his balls as you suck on him, and he comes into your mouth. You continue to suck until you’ve gotten every last drop into your mouth. You sit up and wipe the corners of your mouth and tuck him back into his pants. He watches as you get up to go to the kitchen. He knew you were going to rinse your mouth out like you always did. You come back to him, and lay in your spot on top of him like you were.

“You’re so fuckin’ good at that, thank you.” He kisses your forehead and you practically purr in his arms. There was nothing like a forehead kiss.

“My pleasure, babe.”

“Wanna go out to dinner tonight? You and I haven’t been able to celebrate just the two of us yet.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot actually. Can we get Italian?”

“We can get whatever you want, my angel.” You nuzzle further into his chest and enjoy the smell of his cologne.

//

After falling asleep on top of him, you wake up to the feeling of being carried to your bedroom.

“Harry?” You mumble.

“Sorry, I needed a wee, and so I thought I’d just set you down in here.”

“That’s okay.” You yawn as he puts you down on the bed. “Probably shouldn’t sleep the day away.”

He uses the toilet and comes back to sit next to you.

“But being lazy once in a while is nice, isn’t it? I feel like we had this crazy busy summer, it’s nice to just relax.”

“How do you see things at the studio now that all the kids are back in school?”

“Everyone and their brother wants a fall photoshoot. The leaves are going to peak soon, so everyone wants these like harvest style pictures. Plus, we’re already starting on holiday photos. Mariah suggested doing Santa Sessions, so we’re gonna get those booked out soon.”

“Are you going to have Santa there?”

“No, it’s more like decorations, the backdrop would look like his workshop, stuff like that. I don’t know, it’s her project.” He shrugs. “Either way, we’re stayin’ busy, and that’s the most important thing.” You nod.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower before we go out later. I need to wake up.”

“How come you’re so tired, baby?” He rubs your back.

“Think it’s just my period, makes me exhausted sometimes.”

“I’m gonna take Buster out for a walk then.”

“Alright.”

You get into the shower and stand there for a few minutes. You shave your legs and anywhere else you feel like you need to, and get out. You blow dry your hair and throw some curls in. You walk out into the living room in your towel, with your underwear on of course. Harry wasn’t back yet, and it was raining outside.

You grab your phone and call him. He doesn’t answer.

“What the…”

You race back to the bedroom and throw some sweats on. You slip on your sneakers and grab an umbrella and out the door you go. You’re not sure where to go at first, but you walk the usual route you and Harry always take Buster. It was absolutely pouring. You were starting to get nervous. You squint as you see a figure walking towards you.

“Harry!” You gasp and run down the street to cover him with the umbrella, not that it mattered now. His eyes were puffy and red and his head was hanging. “Wh…where’s Buster?”

“I don’t know.” You both turn to walk towards the parking garage. “He heard some thunder and slipped away from me. I ran after him and called for him, but…he just got away from me.”

“Oh no! Well, we have to find him!”

“I know!”

“Don’t yell at me!”

“I’m not!”

You both get into his car, and start driving around.

“Jesus, it’s gonna get dark soon. My poor baby.” You start tearing up.

“He never runs away. The one time I have a slightly loose grip on the leash-“

“You can’t blame yourself, it was an accident. We just need to find him before it gets dark. I’m going to text Niall to see if he’ll wait outside our building. Maybe he’ll come back.”

“Good idea.”

“Harry, drive towards the park near the studio, it’s not that far from here and he’s used to going there.”

“Okay.”

Your entire body was shaking. You didn’t know what you would do if your little boy was lost forever.

“Y/N! There by that tree! Think that’s him?!”

“It could be! Let me get out.”

You basically jump out of the moving car and run towards the large tree in the park.

“Buster!”

He looks up at you, but doesn’t come towards you. He’s whimpering where he sits, frightened by the cold and the thunder.

“Baby, it’s me! It’s mumma! Don’t be scared.” You slowly approach him and stick your hand out. Harry runs toward you both after parking the car. “See, it’s daddy too! Nothing to be scared of.”

“I think his leg is hurt…”

“Oh my god, I think you’re right!”

Harry approaches him and picks him. He’s soaked, but right now it didn’t matter.

“Babe, sit in the back with him, I have a blanket in the trunk we can wrap around him.”

“Okay.”

Harry gets him in the car while you grab the blanket. You wrap it around him and try to comfort him.

“I’m gonna drive to the vet.” You hum your response as you continue to try to calm Buster down.

“Do you think a car hit him?”

“I have no idea…maybe he slipped? Can a dog roll its ankle?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Harry gets you all to the vet, and carries Buster inside. You check him in and they’re able to take him right away due to the emergency. You’re told to wait in the waiting room. Harry keeps pacing back and forth, his nerves were shot.

“Mr. and Mrs. Styles?” A nurse comes out. You think to correct her, but now isn’t the time.

“Yes?” You say standing up. Harry also notices you don’t correct her, and for a second he feels a little better.

“Come on back with me.” She smiles.

You take Harry’s hand and follow her to where Buster was. You hear him yip, it was like he was good as new.

“We had to put a brace on his back left leg. He has a slight sprain. We’re not entirely sure how. It didn’t look like he was hit by anything, he could have slipped and fell the wrong way. We gave him a shot to numb the pain as well.”

“Oh, thank you.” You throw your arms around him and he licks your cheek. “Mumma was so scared.” You kiss him a ton. Harry pats his back and gives him kisses too. “Don’t you ever run away from your daddy again, do you under stand me?”

“Miss…he’s a dog…not a small child.” She says with a blank expression. You turn to look at her slowly. Before you can say anything, Harry does.

“Listen, I’m sure you have to deal with stupid people all day, but this dog is our child at the moment, so if my fiancé wants to give him a stern talkin’ to for running away from me, then she will, and you can just keep your mouth shut, yeah?”

“Right.” She coughs nervously. “So, here’s his prescription, and some details on how to help his leg. You can check out up front, we’ll want to see him for a follow up.”

Harry takes the papers from her, and sets him down on the floor. He has a slight limp, but he’s able to walk. You practically white knuckle his leash as you lead him back to the lobby. They give you the medicine Buster will need, and out the door you go. You sit in the back with him again.

“Thanks for the backup in there.”

“Don’t mention it, I wouldn’t let some stranger disrespect you like that. I don’t care how silly she thought it was. He was bad runnin’ from me, even if he was scared, and he should know it.”

“We should stay in with him tonight, we have plenty of leftovers we can have for dinner.”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing. We need to get his leg on a pillow.”

You had texted Niall earlier to let him know Buster was found and safe. Harry gets Buster up to the apartment. You drag his dog bed over near the sofa and put some extra pillows in there.

“I need to go change, my clothes are still soaked.”

You nod at him as he walks down the hall. If the situation wasn’t so serious you might have joked about how sexy he looked, but maybe you were save that for some pillow talk later. He comes back out a few minutes later and looks at you.

“Do you even feel like eating?” He asks.

“No, I’m sick to my stomach.”

“Me too.”

You both sit on the sofa and sigh.

“I’m very upset with him.” You say. “But I’m glad we found him before it got dark out.”

“I just feel so stupid for letiin’ him get away in the first place.”

“Harry, it’s not your fault. Accidents happen. He knows not to run away, we trained him right.”

“It was like everything happened in slow motion too. As soon as I heard the thunder we looked at each other and I knew he was gonna do somethin’.” Buster looks up at Harry. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ about you, bub.” Harry leans down and pats his head.

“I’m gonna go make us a little food.”

“Thought you were sick to your stomach.” He smirks.

“I’ve calmed down a bit. He’s here with us now, that’s all that matters.”

“Alright, well in that case, I’d love some kugel please.”

“You got it.” You stand up and kiss his forehead.

You go into the kitchen and make up a couple of plates. Harry thanks you when you come back out.

“Do you feel like watching a movie?” You ask him.

“Sure! What did you have in mind?”

“You should pick, we always watch what I wanna watch.”

Harry smiles and flips through the different options of movies on the various platforms you both paid for.

“Oh! How about When Harry Met Sally?”

“Yeah! You know I’ve never seen it, but I’ve always wanted to.” Harry’s jaw drops. “What?”

“The Film Studies minor slash Film Club president has never seen When Harry Met Sally?”

“Romantic Comedies isn’t exactly a genre you study extensively, although, I know this film set a precedent.”

“I wish more were like it, to be honest. So do you feel like watchin’ it?”

“Definitely, now’s a good a time as any.”

“This is one of my all-time favorites, Y/N, I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will. I love Billy Crystal.”

He starts the movie as you both continue to eat. When you’re both done he sets the plates on the side table, and puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close to him. Both of you put your feet up on the ottoman.

“It’s like we’re on a little date, isn’t it?” He asks you.

“Mhm.” You smile and snuggle in closer.

“Now that my weekends are freeing up, I wanna make more time for dates. I wanna take you to the movies, and go out for drinks.”

“So you essentially want to establish a date night?”

“That sounds so…boring when you say it like that, but yeah. We both always have so much going on, I just want to make sure we make time for this.”

“Me too, Harry. We can definitely have a date night.” You squint at the TV. “Wait, so what’s happening, why are they driving together?”

“So, they both just graduated from college, and he’s dating Sally’s friend. They both needed to go to New York, so she told Harry to drive with Sally.”

“Ah, okay. And that’s how they met.”

“They meet multiple times, they keep findin’ each other over the years.”

“Aww, that’s so cute!”

You both enjoy the rest of the movie. You tear up a bit when they fight and then hug it out. You can’t help but laugh a little towards the end when Sally tells Harry how much she hates him, and then they kiss. It reminded you a little of 10 Things I Hate About You.

“What did you think?” Harry asks yawning as the credits roll.

“I really liked it! I can see where a lot of other films took things from. It had a really good pace too, like I never felt bored.”

“I’m so glad to hear you say that.” He says with relief. “I feel like I kept watchin’ you to see your reactions.”

“I know you were.” You both laugh. “Do you think we should let him sleep with us tonight? If he whines in the middle of the night for his medicine I wanna be able to hear him.”

“Good idea, yeah, he can come in with us.”

Harry picks Buster up and carried him to your room. You do your nightly routine and get into bed. Buster lays at the both of your feet and falls asleep quickly. He must be exhausted from the entire ordeal. You knew you and Harry both were.

“Who’s he goin’ to work with tomorrow?” He asks he climbs into bed with you. “I’d take him, but somethin’ tells me he’s gonna want his mum.”

“I was thinking the same thing. I don’t have many meetings, so he’ll be fine with me.”

You both kiss goodnight, and snuggle up to fall asleep.

//

Buster was able to walk, but not for long period of time, so Harry makes sure to help get him into your car. You didn’t carpool on Tuesdays because you saw Dr. Mara right after work. Once you get Buster up to your office, you give him some medicine.

“Mornin’, here’s your…aww poor thing, look at him.” He hands you your coffee.

“I know, he scared us so bad. I’m just glad we found him and he’s safe. It’s only a sprain, so if we do everything right he should be back to normal in a few weeks.”

“Well that’s good at least. Why’d he run from Harry again?”

“The thunder from the storm yesterday scared him. I think it was too loud for him.” Niall nods.

“So, I’ve just been told we have a meeting this morning, like now, in the conference room.”

“Are you serious?” You groan. “I haven’t even gotten settled.”

“I think it’s quick, Sharon said we don’t even need our laptops.”

“Okay.” You sigh. “C’mon, Buster.”

He gets up slowly and follows you and Niall down to the conference room.

“Congratulations!”

“Oh my gosh!”

Everyone from your division was there smiling at you, and there were bagels and doughnuts out on the table.

“What is all this?”

“Niall told us all yesterday that you got engaged so we wanted to celebrate with you!” Trish says.

“This is so sweet! Thank you all so much.” You look at Niall. “You’re too good to me, thank you.” You both hug.

“And I got that lox you like too.” He points to it.

“What a treat! I’m glad I had a really light breakfast this morning.”

Niall splits a bagel with you, and put some lox and cream cheese on it. You show everyone your ring, tell them how Harry proposed and showed off a few pictures. They each give Buster a little loving as well, and he soaked it up.

Eventually you go to your office, after thanking everyone for the millionth time, and get some work done. You had a ton of emails to catch up on, and a couple of projects that needed to get started. You weren’t even hungry when lunch rolled around, so you just hung out with Buster in Niall’s office.

“Our new intern starts tomorrow.” He tells you.

“Oh? And what’s their specialty?”

“Once again, we have a social media/video editor. His name is Zach, and he’s a senior. He actually goes to where you went.”

“Oh, really? Well that’ll be fun. Maybe I could be like a mentor or something.” You shrug.

“We having a meeting with him tomorrow morning. I guess we have him all day on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“Didn’t the school year already start? Why is he just coming to us now?”

“That was on our end, HR took forever to get everything processed.”

“Awesome.” You scoff. “Well, at least he’ll actually be able to get work done being here for full days.”

“Yeah, definitely. Hopefully this one won’t have a crush on you.” He laughs.

“Stop it.” You groan. “I never want to think about Matt ever again. You know I ran into him months ago at the bar? It was when we went out for Sarah’s birthday.”

“Oh you mean the night none of you wore bras and you got that bartender’s number?”

“Yup.” You sigh. “And it wasn’t like I asked for the guy’s number.”

“I know, I’m just givin’ yeh a tough time.” He chuckles.

//

You period ended Wednesday morning, which meant you could finally surprise Harry with something he had wanted for a long time, but you had to wait the entire work day to give it to him. Around 9AM you had your meeting with Niall and Zach. Buster was being very needy with you, and at on the floor between your legs with his head in your lap.

“He really is just like his father, huh?”

“Niall!” You burst out laughing and nudge his arm. “You can’t say stuff like that. What if the intern was here?”

“He’s not here yet.” He laughs.

“Buster’s just not liking the medicine he has to take. I feel so bad, he only wants me. I think Harry feels like a bad father.”

“Don’t all kids want their mum when they don’t feel well?”

“Hi, I’m so sorry I’m late, it took me forever to find parking, and then I had to get all the way up here.”

A young man with short black hair and blue eyes walks in. He looked to be just under six feet. He was wearing a blue button up tucked into some khakis. He looked nice enough. Niall stands up to shake his hand, you do the same. He’s startled when he hears Buster yip.

“S’no problem, Zach. Please have a seat.” Niall says to him.

“Is there a dog in here?” He sits down adjacent to you.

“Yeah, sorry, this is Buster. I bring him to work with me most days, I hope that’s alright.”

“Oh, sure! I love dogs, just didn’t see him.”

“Well, I’m Niall and this is Y/N. We’ll be supervising you this semester. This is basically an intake meeting. We wanna make sure we’re putting you on projects that make sense, and all that.”

“You also go to my alma mater.” You smile.

“Seriously? That’s great! And yeah, I brought my laptop with me, I thought I could show you some of the things I’ve done, if that’s cool.”

“That would be great!” Niall says.

//

After an hour with Zach, you and Niall show him where he’ll be working, and Niall gets him started on a few things. You liked him so far. He seemed smart and down to business, which is exactly what you were hoping for. Towards the end of the day he knocks on the outside of your door.

“Come on in, Zach.” You smile and he walks in. “Have a seat.” He does so and smiles at you.

“Um, so, I just wanted to say your name sounded a little familiar, and I realized that you founded the very film club that I’m in.”

“Oh my goodness, really?! I’m so happy to hear it still has members.”

“Tons! I also work in our alumni office on campus, and I think it would be really cool if you came to campus and spoke with the current members. Sort of show them that being in a fun club can also help lead to bigger opportunities. We could do an alumni spotlight on you for the magazine.”

“Do you really think that I’m worthy of the alumni magazine?” You scoff. “I get sent that thing in the mail all the time, and it’s always these stories about old people.

“Or random dudes. I think they should feature more women. The director of alumni relations would love this, I think. He’s really nice. Could I at least give him your email?”

“Sure.” You smile. “At any rate, I’d love to come to a film club meeting some time. I could show you all the projects we used to make together.”

“That would be amazing!” He beams. “I can’t wait to tell them. We meet on Thursday nights. This week would be too soon, I assume, but maybe next week you could come?”

“I’d love to.”

He gets up and thanks you for your time before leaving. He was a sweet boy.

//

You got home before Harry on Wednesdays, which was perfect for what you wanted to put together for him. You get Buster fed and settled before heading into your bedroom. You put on some black lace lingerie and then grab your navy pencil skirt to put on over it. After that you put on the blazer that goes with it, and button it up. You slide your feet into your nude pumps. You go into the bathroom and pin your hair up into a more formal bun. All you’d have to do is take one pin out and it would fall into your waves. You touch up your makeup, and make your way up to the loft.

Harry gets home and kicks his shoes off. Buster carefully trots over to him and Harry lets him lick his hand.

“Hey buddy, where’s mumma?”

“Harry, is that you?”

He looks up towards the loft.

“Yeah!”

“Could come here for a minute please?”

“Sure thing, one second!” He uses the bathroom quick and then heads up to the loft. His eyes grow wide when he sees you. “Did you have, like, an important meeting today or somethin’?”

“I always do.”

“Wait, you weren’t wearin’ that before you left this mornin’…”

“I always dress like this, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” You wink at him and his eyebrows raise. His lips curl into a grin.

“Is…are we doin’ this?” You nod yes. “Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath. “Go on.”

“So, um, right, we need to work late tonight…got a big presentation tomorrow.” You try to look as serious as possible.

Harry circles around you and stands right behind you. He dips his head down so his lips are at your ear.

“And what can I do to assist you?” You turn around to face him.

“You know, standing so close to me like that isn’t exactly professional.” You smirk. “I’m your boss after all.”

“Right.” He leans against his desk. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think you play favorites with or anything.” He smirks. “Although, they already think that since I’m the only one you’re nice to.”

“That’s because you’re the only competent person here.”

“You know what I think the real problem is?”

“What’s that?”

“You can come off as uptight.”

“Well…I’m just always stressed.” You shrug. “It’s not easy being the CEO of a large company, you know?”

“I do know. That’s why you hired me, remember? To help make you less stressed, but in all honesty…I don’t think you’re using me to my fullest potential.” He grins.

Harry was amazing you. He had clearly wanted to do this for a while, and you were happy to finally be doing this for him.

“You think so, huh?” You cross your arms. “Enlighten me then, how could I be using you?”

He takes a step forward and uncrosses your arms. He takes one of the buttons on your blazer and twists it between his thumb and index finger.

“You walk around with so much tension in your shoulders. I could rub them for you, but you’d have to take this off…”

“I suppose that would be alright, but I’ll warn you, I don’t have much on underneath.”

“Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.”

You nod and unbutton the blazer. Harry pushes it off your shoulders, and he gasps when he sees the black strappy bra that you’re wearing. You fold the blazer and lay it on your desk chair.

“This alright?” You smile.

“When did you get this, it’s really pretty.” You suck your teeth and look at him. “Shit, sorry.” You clears his throat. “Yeah, perfectly fine.”

You turn around and he starts to rub your shoulders. His thumbs knead into the back of your neck and you let out a soft moan.

“Good thing everyone else is gone for the day, or else they might get the wrong idea with noises you’re makin’.”

“Can’t help it, your hands just feel too good. Who knew you had such a gentle touch?”

One of Harry’s hands slides around to the front of your throat.

“And what if I wasn’t so gentle?” Your eyes grow wide, not that he can see. An ache starts to grow between your legs. “Got an answer for me, boss?”

You weren’t sure how to respond. You wanted him to really grip you, make it so you almost couldn’t breathe, but you were slightly scared that if you both got too caught up, you could have a flash. Although, you were almost positive Harry wouldn’t let that happen, so you decide to roll with it.

“I think…I could use a different way to de-stress.” You turn to face him. You put a hand over his and slide it down to the top of one of your breasts.

“I could get fired if HR finds out.”

“Who do you think signs their checks? I decide who gets fired around here, and it certainly isn’t going to be you.”

“Then I’d be happy to give you what you need.”

“And what exactly is that?”

That shit eating grin of his forms, the one where you can really see his dimples. His other arm snakes around your waist and pulls you close to him, so your hips are touching him. He removes his hand that’s on top of your breast to the back of your neck and pulls you to kiss him. You moan as his tongue enters your mouth. He was getting a pretty good taste of you. He lets go of you, and waits for your response.

“Ah.”

“Need a little more?”

“A lot more.”

You reach for the pin that’s holding your bun together and take it out. Your hair falls and you shake it out. Harry grabs you by your hips, and bends you over his desk. He hikes your skirt up and he groans when he sees the thong you’re wearing.

“You know, I think it’s a little…naughty of you to have been wearing this underneath your clothes.” You look at him over your shoulder. You give him a look that says, not too hard, and he nods in understanding.

You feel a smack, not necessarily on your ass, but more so right near your center. You mouth oh my god to yourself. You had zero idea he really wanted to do things like this with you. But then again, you weren’t really you and he wasn’t really him. Harry grabs your hips and places a hand on one of your cheeks so he can see his target better. You feel another smack and you gasp. He leans down so he can speak into your ear.

“See, you’re this really strong woman, and I think that’s great. But I think it’s time you’ve been taken down a notch, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

You hear him undo his pants, and then you feel him move your thong to the side. He grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you up. He taps your bottom lip with his index and middle fingers. You take the hint and open up for him, sucking them into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around them and really make a show of it for him. He tracts them and the next thing you know he’s knuckle deep inside you. You loved it when he’d finger you from behind. There was something about the angle he was getting that always felt so good.

“You like that, boss?”

“Yes, please keep doing it.” You groan.

He pumps in and out of you, and you cry out when you feel him under you, lips wrapped around your clit. You claw at his desk as your legs start to shake. All of a sudden he stops and you look at him.

“Didn’t think I was gonna let you come so easily did you?” He raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re always so in control, but not tonight.”

He pushes you back down against the desk so your chest was flush with it. He removes your thong all the way and leaves it around your ankles. He bunches your skirt up around your hips and spreads you apart with his thumbs. He slowly inserts himself into you. As much as he just wanted to be careless and rough, he didn’t want to send you into a frenzy.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He groans once he’s full inside. “So wet for me.” He pulls out and then slams all the way back in.

“Do that again.”

Harry happily obliges and fucks you like that for a few minutes. It was how you had wanted him to fuck you for a long time, and you were happy to be in a place where he could. He was starting to hit you g-spot and it was overwhelming.

“Shit, right there, that’s it!”

He could tell you were close, but he didn’t want you to think you could come yet. He grips the back of your neck with one hand, and squeezes your hip with the other.

“Are you close?”

“Yes!”

“You have to ask me if you can come.” He slows down his pace and rocks in and out of you.

“What?!”

“Ask me if you can come.”

“Can I come?!”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please!”

Harry grins and picks up the pace again. Your moans and groans mixed with the sound of his skin slapping against yours. You come hard around him. He pulls out and comes on your ass. You groan when you feel the heat from it. You hear him zip his pants back up so you stand up and turn to face him. You weren’t sure if the role play was over or not. When you see his features soften and his reassuring smile form on his lips, you know it is.

“C’mere.” He holds his arms out for you, and you nearly trip into him since your panties were still around your ankles. “Whoops, sorry ‘bout that, baby.”

“S’okay.” You giggle as he kisses the top of your head.

“Let’s get you downstairs.” He picks you up bridal styles and carefully brings you down the spiral staircase. “So, to what do I owe this amazing surprise?” He carries you down to the bathroom and sets you down on your feet. He runs a rag under some warm water to clean up where he came on you.

“I just wanted to do something special for you since you proposed, but I couldn’t exactly do this for you while I was on my period…” You wince slightly when he cleans up near your center.

“Sorry…did I slap you too hard?”

“It didn’t feel like it while you were doing it.” You get out of your pencil skirt and Harry helps you get out of your strappy bra. You throw on some of his sweats and go into the kitchen with him. “We should probably take Buster out soon…”

“We can start cookin’ and then take him out. Right buddy?” He yips at Harry and he chuckles. “So…it was okay, all of it?”

“For doing in a role play, yes.” You rub the back of your neck. “But that’s the only scenario I want you talking to me like that, okay?”

“Fair enough.” He shrugs and wraps his arms around you. “Thank you.”

“Did it live up to the fantasy?”

“God, yes. Even more so. That was really cool of you, Y/N.” He kisses you quick. “So, what do you want for dinner? I’ll make whatever you want.”

“I think we have stuff for tacos, I picked up those meatless meat crumbles…”

“Tacos it is then.” He smiles.

“Come on Buster, mummy take you out quick while daddy cooks.” He tries to hide his smirk. “You wanted me to call you that earlier, didn’t you?” You say, crossing your arms.

“What would make you think that?” He asks facetiously and you roll your eyes. “All part of the fantasy, love.”

“What is it with guys and wanting to be called daddy, I really don’t get it. Why would you want me to fuck my father? Or have me picture my father?” You laugh.

“S’not what it’s about…it’s more of just like…a dominance thing. Like I said, it’s just part of the fantasy, I don’t actually want you callin’ me that unless it’s in reference to Buster.”

“Good, because that’s the only way I’m calling you that.” You smirk, and put Buster’s leash on. Harry gets to work on the tacos.

//

“Wow, Harry! This looks great!”

He had set everything up on the island like a little buffet so you could add all the fixings you wanted. You each eat three soft shell tacos and clean up when you’re done. You were stuffed. You both flop onto the sofa and relax.

“So…Glee?” He says to you.

“You read my mind.”

[a-musing-mixologist]

(On A03 here)

15 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  Just you wait.  Imma find you yo.

[To: Phones]: Ill bring you back.

[To: Phones]:  You gotta hang in there

16 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  That Reaper did something dammit.  Its like only me an Shiki remember you.

[To: Phones]:  But dont worry once I get ya back well fix this.

[To: Phones]:  Gonna scour Shibuya till I find out whats goin on.

17 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  You better be alive Phones.

[To: Phones]:  Ya know what I mean...

18 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  AARGH

[To: Phones]:  Aint no sign of any Reapers.  They gotta be here.

[To: Phones]:  Ill figure this out

20 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  Aint stopped searching.  I know you out there

[To: Phones]:  I can feel it yo.  You can too right?

[To: Phones]:  We still synced I know it.

22 November 2018

[To: Phones]: still looking

[To: Phones]:  Are you even getting these

[To: Phones]:  Aint matter...

[To: Phones]:  Your number ain't showin as disconnected.  Thats something.

13 November 2018

[To: Phones]: I guess this ain't a normal Reapers Game.  Youd be back now...

[To: Phones]: Not like any of us expected it to be.

25 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  Had a weird dream.

[To: Phones]: Like I was figthin by your side again.  But I aint know where it was.

[To: Phones]: Not Shibuya.

29 November 2018

[To: Phones]:  Still nothing.  Aint gonna stop me.

[To: Phones]:  I miss you... (unsent)

1 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  Still looking.

5 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  Raining.  Skating in the rain kind of sucks.

7 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  Had that weird dream again.

[To: Phones]:  I know that means you still out there.

10 December 2018

[To: Phones]: You better be hanging in there.

[To: Phones]:  I aint think it was gonna take this long.

[To: Phones]:  Even if ya got screwed over like our Game... you should be back by now right?

[To: Phones]:  They really pulling some shit.

[To: Phones]:  I can't stand it yo.

15 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  It actually snowed a bit.  Weird.

[To: Phones]:  Maybe one day Ill learn to snowboard.

17 December 2018

[To: Phones]: Had to take a family holiday photo ugh.

[To: Phones]:  If the Reapers is looking for more ways to torture people

[To: Phones]:  That's one of them.

20 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  It's COLD.  I hope it aint like this where you are.

23 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  Dont think Im giving up yo.

[To: Phones]:  Had that dream again.

24 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  Rhyme made like 300 Christmas cookies.

25 December 2018

[To: Phones]:  Merry Christmas

[To: Phones]: I ate too much

17 December 2018

[To: Phones]: Dammit where ARE you.

1 January 2019

[To: Phones]:  New year new chances to find you.

5 January 2019

[To: Phones]:  You holdin up?

10 January 2019

[To: Phones]: Still cold.

17 January 2019

[To: Phones]:  Shiki and Eri's are gonna try selling their stuff

20 January 2019

[To: Phones]:  IM GONNA FIND YOU DAMN IT

[To: Phones]: I can still feel it.  I know you there even if you aint get these.

23 January 2019

[To: Phones]:  You got Partners again?  I hope you ain't alone...

[To: Phones]:  It's been so long

[To: Phones]:  But these are still going through...

[To: Phones]: And I can still feel you.  I know thats what this feeling is.

27 January 2019

[To: Phones]: Aint giving up

[To: Phones]:  I miss you.  (unsent)

[To: Phones]:  You should be here by now (unsent)

1 February 2019

[To: Phones]: Shiki and Eri's stuff is really takin' off.

12 February 2019

[To: Phones]:  Sorry school and shit getting to me

[To: Phones]: Even if I aint check in Im still here

[To: Phones]: And still looking

20 February 2019

[To: Phones]: You better be kickin Noise and Reaper ass yo.

3 March 2019

[To: Phones]:  Rhyme is really into computers now

[To: Phones]: I ain't understand shit.

[To: Phones]:  At least she aint talk like Tabooty

17 March 2019

[To: Phones]: You better be ok.

27 March 2019

[To: Phones]: I totally aced a test today!

29 March 2019

[To: Phones]:  That dream...

[To: Phones]:  Where ARE you (unsent)

5 April 2019

[To: Phones]:  Still looking

12 April 2019

[To: Phones]: Thought by now I'd track down at least one Reaper yo.

[To: Phones]: Aint like Pixie Chick blends in

20 April 2019

[To: Phones]: Damn it Phones where the hell are you

[To: Phones]:  Shibuya feels like its moving on

[To: Phones]: Its just wrong yo.

27 April 2019

[To: Phones]:  I know there's Reapers in the RG

[To: Phones]: I swear I'll find 'em and make 'em talk.

5 May 2019

[To: Phones]: Is this hopeless?  (unsent)

[To: Phones]:  Well I guess we know who's got the higher Noise Erased count now.

20 May 2019

[To: Phones]:  I think I've memorized every side street and alleyway in this city.

[To: Phones]: When you back Ill be able to show you around blindfolded.

2 June 2019

[To: Phones]:  HOT.

13 June 2019

[To: Phones]: People really love Mr. Mew

[To: Phones]: Shiki an Eri might be getting an actual shop to sell stuff in.

24 June 2019

[To: Phones]: I want to go to the beach.

[To: Phones]: You ever gone there?

[To: Phones]: Can't imagine you in trunks.

[To: Phones]: akljf;ds

5 July 2019

[To: Phones]:  How you holdin up

18 July 2019

[To: Phones]: Who decided hot and sticky was a good temperature for anything

29 July 2019

[To: Phones]: I aint giving up you better not either.

1 August 2019

[To: Phones]:  Rhyme is scary good with computers.  She said something about hacking.  Should I be afraid?

17 August 2019

[To: Phones]: Guess who fought a cicada.

22 August 2019

[To: Phones]: The hell is with these dreams.

5 September 2019

[To: Phones]: I ain't know how many times Ive walked the same streets.

6 September 2019

[To: Phones]: Dont think that last text means I given up. I aint.

20 September 2019

[To: Phones]: This city has changed so much. So many new places.

[To: Phones]: Can't wait to show you.

1 October 2019

[To: Phones]:  How many Noise you beat by now?

10 October 2019

[To: Phones]: Everyone wants to go to Shibuya Halloween this year.

31 October 2019

[To: Phones]: THIS WAS A BAD IDEA I AIN'T NEVER SEEN SO MANY PEOPLE.

[To: Phones]:  It took 45 minutes to leave the station and get across the Scramble.

[To: Phones]: We were all bullied into wearing Mr. Mew costumes.

[To: Phones]: Rhyme wants me to clarify that only I was bullied.

7 November 2019

[To: Phones]: Really hoped with all those Halloween vibes that maybe something would turn up.

[To: Phones]: All that stuff about ghosts and shit.

[To: Phones]: Still nothing.

20 November 2019

[To: Phones]: I ain't giving up.

1 December 2019

[To: Phones]: It's December again...

19 December 2019

[To: Phones]: You really gotta see all these lights

[To: Phones]:  One day.

20 December 2019

[To: Phones]: No escape from Family Holiday Photos.

24 December 2019

[To: Phones]: Too many Christmas cookies.

25 December 2019

[To: Phones]: Merry Christmas kick some Noise ass.

1 January 2020

[To: Phones]: This will be the year.

1 February 2020

[To: Phones]: Ok so maybe it wasn't the month. But it's still gonna be the year.

4 March 2020

[To: Phones]: Im sorry I couldnt find you sooner (unsent)

[To: Phones]: This is takin longer than I thought.

17 March 2020

[To: Phones]: You got this.

1 April 2020

[To: Phones]: Aint giving up.

1 May 2020

[To: Phones]: Sorry... school and shit.

[To: Phones]: Dont worry though.  Im still here.

[To: Phones]: I know you are too.

1 June 2020

[To: Phones]:  I hope its cooler wherever you are.

1 July 2020

[To: Phones]: Even CAT hasn't done anything in months.  I wonder what happened to Mr H.

1 August 2020

[To: Phones]:  Still get those dreams once in a while

[To: Phones]: Do you...

1 September 2020

[To: Phones]: Fall again...

1 October 2020

[To: Phones]: Ok this year we'll be prepared for Shibuya Halloween.

31 October 2020

[To: Phones]:  Ok ain't no way to prepare for that.

[To: Phones]: One of these days you gonna suffer with us.

1 November 2020

[To: Phones]:  I will find you.  No matter how long it takes.

1 December 2020

[To: Phones]:  December again...

[To: Phones]: Damn it.

[To: Phones]: Please be alright.

1 January 2021

[To: Phones]: OK THIS YEAR.  I KNOW IT.

[To: Phones]: I wonder what you look like now.

[To: Phones]: Will I recognize you? (unsent)

10 January 2021

[To: Phones]: Fuck.  College is next year...

1 February 2021

[To: Phones]: Gatto Nero is gonna get a shop in 104!  Can you believe it?

1 March 2021

[To: Phones]: Rhyme says she working on something.  Iono what that means...

1 April 2021

[To: Phones]: That dream again.  Something feels different yo.

1 May 2021

[To: Phones]: Somethin's weird.  Aint had a feeling like this in a long time.

[To: Phones]: Hang in there.

1 June 2021

[To: Phones]: Pins are getting popular again. Even Gatto Nero's getting' in on it.  You outta see these designs!

1 July 2021

[To: Phones]: Rhyme says she close to a breakthrough.  I aint know on what but she says its gonna help.

27 July 2021

[To: Phones]: Something is definitely goin down yo.  You feel it too?

[To: Phones]: We close, I know it.

[To: Phones]: This time fo sho.

[To: Phones]: You comin home.

[snowbird-down]

Sixth Sense

The weirdest thing about waking up that day was that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Laelia had gone to bed sober for once – well, that was more common these days with Valeriaux’s gentle influence – and she’d not had any out of the ordinary dreams. The day before had been as good and productive as it ever was, with her making her usual Gridanian rounds before returning to where she’d hidden the Delphinus in the woods. She’d brought back extra treats for Brutus who, now fully-grown, consumed meat like a dragon. Seeing him happy always made her happy.

And sure, Val was away in the Gentry Ward on business…the kind of business that she couldn’t really help with. Laelia knew when she and her lack of social grace would only be a detriment to her lover. It didn’t bother her any. Besides, she’d had plenty of her own fun recently with Vicky and Max, even if it had ended with her getting banned from the Gold Saucer.

No, today should have been a day like any other, but instead Laelia woke up feeling spooked. She couldn’t quite figure out why until she pulled on a pair of well-loved cargo pants and a tank top and sauntered outside.

The forest hadn’t changed. Not really. But through her third eye Laelia could tell that the shadows were not where they normally were this time of day. It took a bit of staring through it before she realized that every tree around her was leaning ever-so-slightly to the south. The shift was so subtle that she couldn’t even really tell when looking with her ‘regular’ eyes.

But in this forest? She knew that meant something.

Thankfully Quixia appeared on cue, her little leaf-wings buzzing merrily as she wove her way into the clearing. She was carrying a covered basket in her stick-arms and looked thoroughly frazzled.

“This one is so sorry!” she called. “This one found such a good sunny spot that this one slept late! But this one remembered the glamour powder!”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Laelia slanted a smile and reached to relieve her of her little burden. “It’s not a huge deal, I just like having it for places where I can’t wear the hat.”

“Oh this one knows!” Quixia nodded. “And smoking one has done so much for these ones! It’s the least these ones can do.”

That gave Laelia an idea. “Your purple cousins getting all antsy lately…is that related to the trees?”

Quixia tilted her head. “Smoking one can Hear?”

“Heh! Nah. But I can see things, sometimes. The trees are…I dunno. Different today.”

The sylph nodded. “Oh yes. A tower appeared in the south! Something is very, very wrong.”

“A tower.” Laelia furrowed her brow. “What do you mean? What kind of tower?”

So Quixia described it to her. Sylphs were not known for being meticulous, but something about the picture she painted left Laelia’s hair standing on end. It was less so that the tower had apparently appeared out of literal nowhere (although that certainly bothered her too) and moreso that it sounded like…

“I don’t suppose they know who built the tower?” she asked.

Quixia bobbed in place a bit. “The walking ones say it must be the iron ones who did it.”

That didn’t make sense either. Van Baelsar was dead, Ala Mhigo lost, and – last she’d heard from what few contacts she had left – another civil war had broken out. Garlemald wouldn’t have any designs on Eorzea now of all times.

“…Quixia, I’m gonna have to ask another favor of you. I’m going to need a lot more glam powder.” Laelia turned to gesture at the Delphinus. “Like, a whole lot.”

“Hmm.” The sylph considered this. “Very well! But smoking one will have to pay a heavy price for so much powder.”

“Name it.”

“Smoking one must dance with all of these ones.”

Laelia groaned.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 “Welp.”

Laelia stared out the window. The tower looked as though someone had torn the spine straight out of an eikon and thrust it into the earth, whereupon it bled red light into the sky. There was nothing about it that looked magiteknical, nothing that displayed Garlemald’s cultural hallmarks in its construction. Why in the world did the Adders think this was the Empire’s doing?

“Just because it’s black and red doesn’t make it Garlean…” she muttered.

Brutus shifted behind her. He had trouble fitting in the cockpit these days but wanted to always be close. The pugnax turned in place half a dozen times and finally flopped against the back of her chair. She definitely wasn’t getting out anytime soon.

Laelia tried pinging the tower; it showed up on her radar but the sonar waves distorted once they got close to it. The aethernometer couldn’t make sense of it, let alone pinpoint a local power source – in fact the system was convinced that the tower was not a tower, but rather a mass gathering of thaumaturges. Though she hovered malms away from the construct, her dashboard twinkled festively with various warning lights:

 WARNING: ANTI-AIR DETECTED

WARNING: INCREASE ALTITUDE

WARNING: SECURE CARGO

 Brutus stirred restlessly behind her with a low complaint.

More questions than answers. Laelia frowned and reached for the Vox, idly scrolling through frequencies. Out here she was lucky to catch anything that wasn’t static, but perhaps if the tower was broadcasting something, she could—

A sudden grating noise nearly sent her shooting out of her seat. Brutus began to bark and howl.

The pilot stared at her dash. There, at 4625 kHz, she’d managed to capture some sort of signal. It wasn’t anything per se, just an awful, terrifying, inhuman sort of buzzing sound that droned on and on with perfect repetition. Something about it was like claws digging into her flesh, just under the skin. It was empty. Haunting. Threatening.

Laelia switched the Vox back off. Brutus calmed, did his turnaround routine again, and laid back down – but the tawny, wiry hairs on the back of his neck remained standing, and he did not go back to sleep. “What the fuck…” Laelia whispered.

 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 She couldn’t sleep that night. Any time she closed her eyes the droning sound raked across her mind. This time the nightmares did come, of fire raining from the skies as Garlemald burned. But that was impossible. Try as she might, try as everyone might, nobody could topple the Empire.

So why couldn’t she get those dreams out of her mind? Why did they march hand in hand with that awful sound? Why did she suddenly feel so protective of the home that had betrayed her?

Because it’s still home… she thought, staring at the far wall.

Her family. She had no pictures of them, only the images in her mind. Dysfunctional though they all were, they’d still had happy times – days when flour fights would break out in the kitchen, days when Mater came home with sweets, days when the sun was actually out. Namedays and holidays. Snow days that kept them all home from school.

Irene had been missing for three years now. Tacitus was always busy teaching. Marcus had started a family and Elaria was abroad. Mater and Pater had been forced to hire local teenagers to help serve in their place, as they were forever too busy for everything while the restaurant slowly grew. Nonna and Papa still commanded the kitchen.

They were safe, all of them. Even Irene. They had to be.

They had to be.

And yet the next day Laelia found herself setting out again, her ship still glamoured to look like an Ironworks vessel. This time she flew east out to the Wall, to a Vox booster she knew still worked. There were a few Populares who, like her, had fled to Aldenard -- a few who still had eyes in the capital. A quick check-in would put all this to rest.

Laelia had done this a dozen times before already. She ran the proper cables to and from the Delphinus, attuned to the right frequencies. One by one she went through the callsigns she knew. VULT did not answer. IGNIS did not answer. TEMPUS did not answer. Nobody answered.

Only the buzz answered. No. No, she was imagining that part.

Laelia remained until the sun began to go down and a patrol departed from Castrum Velodyna in her direction. She hastened to disconnect the Delphinus and vanish back into the Shroud, knuckles white on the helm the entire way. She’d have to try tomorrow, of course. And the day after that if need be. They weren’t always at their Voxes, but they would be. She just needed to be patient.

It was fine. This was fine. Everything was fine.

It had to be fine.

It had to be.

[marauder-exe]

AU list!

hi! These are a bunch of Au’s that i could write,and you could request! (reposting because it didnt work the first time)

General

Fake dating (My personal favourite)

Soulmates

Coffee shop

Modern Royalty

Rockstar

Running From The Police

Rebel Against The Goverment

High School

University

Law school

Delayed-Flights-And-Were-Stuck-In-The-Airport-And-Its-Like-2Am

Roommates

Road Trip

Arranged Marriage

Im-Arranged-To-Marry-Your-Brother-But-Were-In-Love

Amnesia

Tattoo-Artist-And-Coffee-Shop-Worker

Loved-Since-Childhood

Professor-Student (of age)

Met-On-Holiday

More detailed

21.You were singing/playing guitar/etc. in the park to protest the war and a policeman tried to dismiss you for 'disturbing the peace' but you argued that you were promoting peace and things got heated and next thing you know you're being arrested for assaulting an officer. You intrigue me, so I'm here to bail you out and maybe take you on a date?

22.the nice one who everybody loves with the grumpy and strict one that the students hate and the students wonder?????????how what the fuck

23.we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward

24. i sit at the rental booth at our local ice rink and watch you teach children how to skate

25. alternatively, i watch kids teach you how to skate because you’re a terrible skater

26. i’m running late to an important interview/meeting and you accidentally spill your hot cocoa all over my outfit

27. you’re my hot ski instructor and i’m failing the bunny hill

28. i slip on some ice and you’re the stranger who catches me

29.  i gave my winter coat to a homeless person and come into your store to warm up

30. our friends rent a cabin to go skiing and we’re the only ones who stay inside

31. you’re the asshole of our group and we don’t get along, but then i find out you make soup for the local shelter

32.we’re waiting in line for the club when you complain that your roommate stole your gloves so let me warm your hands up with mine

33.my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and i’m so sorry

34.the power goes out in our apartment building, but i’m not prepared for this, and you come to check on me

35.i’m having a snowball fight with my friend in the park and i hit you instead

36.a storm is delaying our flight home and i’m afraid of thunder, please talk to me while we wait

37. we’re both in small claims court and i got into a huge fight with the person suing me but you stepped in to hold me back before security got there

38. i drove two hours to the closest video rental store that’s still operating and you were checking out the only copy of the movie i was after

39. i hit you with my car but luckily you’re okay, but we should still exchange information i guess

40. i was worried about buying something off of someone creepy from craigslist but oh no you’re hot

41. my friend talked me into playing a drunken game of spin the bottle even though we’re all adults and now we have to make out

42. we both decided to take a [yoga/fencing/cooking etc] class and we’re the only two assholes not taking it seriously and everyone else is giving us dirty looks but we keep grinning over at each other

43. my date just made a scene in public and got arrested and now i’m stranded in a city without a ride home

44. sharing a cab together

45. you’re trying to get me to sign a petition and i have no idea what you’re talking about

46. you’re drunk at this festival and dancing on the table and when you eventually fell i caught you

47. we both play this stupid game online and you keep beating me every single goddamn time so i called you out and you are pretty cute but can you not

48. im a bartender and you just came in here without shoes sat down and ordered a chocolate volcano and idk what the fuck that is and im scared to ask

49. we are neighbours and every night at 3:14 am you start yodeling for no fucking reason??? why???? is that you yodeling??? its been 2 months???

50.im a pizza delivery person and i just delivered a pizza to someone in the middle of a satanic ritual and they gave me their number???

51. i woke up this morning to find you sitting in my living room with a goat in a poncho??? who are you??? why is the goat wearing a poncho??? how did you get the goat in here i live on the 12th floor???

52. we work out at the same gym and you always look super legit but i know you sing hannah montana in the shower and you know i know

53. im a cashier and i saw you stuffing you pants full of potatoes and i would stop you but you already have 27 and i want to see how many you can fit

54. its 4 am and im drunk as fuck in a mcdonalds and you have been watching my trying to eat this burger for 30 minutes

55. i was playing beer pong with a coin and i accidentally threw it right into your eye at a party

56. i’m at the beach and some kids thought it was funny to bury me in the sand when i dozed off can you please dig me out

57. it’s unbearably hot and we’re both fighting over the last handheld electrical fan at the shop at the amusement park

58. hey i just met you, and this is crazy, but i get sunburned really easily so can you please help me put sunscreen on my back?

59. thunderstorm after a menacing heatwave and we’re both getting weird looks for dancing in the rain

60.i have no idea who you are but you just fainted right in front of me holy shit dude you need to drink more in this heat

61. we both chased after the leaving ice cream van like ten-year-olds and now we’re both out of breath and a bit embarrassed

62.i clearly reserved this deck chair by putting a towel on it why on earth are you lying on it who the fuck do you think you are

63. My friends bet I wouldn’t buy these three weird and questionable items and you’re my cashier.

64.Once a week I go visit the pet store just to stare at the cute kittens and puppies and you’re the nice employee who always lets me hold them and wait I think I’m going to cry hold on.

65.You’re the DJ of the University’s radio station and every time you give an opinion on a current event I have to call and argue with you because could you seriously be anymore wrong?

66.We both wait tables at the same restaurant and you’re always mad at me by the end of the night because I make more in tips

67.We have the same class and once a week you wear this graphic shirt I don’t understand and I really want to ask you about it.

68.We both work at the same craft store that literally has no customers so we have nothing to do and I’m always reading at the register but you always have to criticize my book choice what the hell?

69.I’m working the concession stand for this week’s home game and this is the fifth time you’ve come back for snacks wait are you flirting with me?

70. we’re at a bookstore and you and I seem to have similar taste in books have you read this one? How about this one?

71. you look like you need help and I’m a professional roller/ice skater but I don’t want you to feel bad about how much you suck but wow you suck

72. You ordered your food before me and they gave you a drink you didn’t want so you gave it to me

73. We’re sitting at adjacent computers in the library and I’m taking extra care not to look at your screen out of respect but what the fuck do you keep laughing at

74. as a joke I yelled out “happy birthday to someone!” in this store and you called back “thank you!” who are you

75. You heard me talking about a TV show in class the other day and now you’re passionately yelling at me about how good it is we’ve never actually spoken before

76. It’s 10:30 at night and I left my glasses at home so I can’t read any of these labels and you’re one of the only people in the grocery store and GODDAMMIT DO YOU HAVE ANY TOMATO SAUCE WITHOUT CHUNKS

77. We go to the same support group; I have social anxiety and you’re a kleptomaniac who sorta stole my heart

78. You thought you were alone at the bus stop so early in the morning so you started passionately singing Fall Out Boy but your Patrick Stump impression could use some work and I’m not really afraid to point that out

79. I’m an artist and you have a really nice face so would you mind if I drew you?

80. We’re rival up-and-coming singers and every time one of us releases a new single the other does a cover to try to make it better; we’re always trying to top each other and out-cute each other, but half our fans aggressively ship us; our agents use this to their advantage and decide we should do a duet because it’ll be popular; unfortunately now that we’re in the same studio and I’ve seen what you’re like I really wanna know what your lips feel like

81.PLEASE I REALLY CANNOT FIND MY CAT AND I KNOW IT’S THREE A.M. BUT NEIL CATRICK HARRIS AND I WOULD BOTH APPRECIATE THE HELP

82. We were both stood up for dates at the same nice restaurant so we decide to eat together and split the check but I dunno you’re pretty interesting aside from your distractingly enormous eyebrows

83. We met at a mutual friend’s cheesy masquerade party and we agree that the only good thing about this party is the masks so you can’t judge a book by its cover only now that we’ve been talking I want to see your face but I don’t know how to ask

84. You used to date my friend who absolutely hates your guts after a messy breakup and now you’re flirting with me and I really shouldn’t be so interested in you but I am

85.We pass each other every day while we’re biking on the same path so we’ve started smiling at each other and one day you’re stopped because you’re having an asthma attack so I offer you my extra water bottle and now we’re talking and now I’M the one who’s breathless

86.I lost my little sibling in IKEA and I need your help finding them

87.I'm a private detective hired to follow you, but you're endearingly boring and mostly I just like watching you and oops, I sort of find you adorable.

88. You've been sketching me for half an hour now, and just shuffled up to hand me the finished product and it's TERRIBLE but you just wanted an excuse to talk to me.

89.  I'm at an art exhibit and I just badmouthed the art, because I don't get it, okay? And it turns out you're the artist. I'm so sorry, maybe I could get you coffee and you could explain what it was supposed to be?

90. We're the only two people who turned up to an underground gig and it should be awkward, but the band is amazing and you asked me to dance and hey, there's nobody watching but us.

91.  You live in the apartment next to me. We're not supposed to have pets, but I KNOW you have a cat. I'll make you a deal, I won't tell, if you let me pet it.

92.  I punched you because I thought you were insulting my friend, but it turns out you know each other and it was an inside joke and I'm so sorry, let me drive you to the hospital?

93. We both wanted to rent a bike for an hour but the only one they have is a tandem bike

94. I’m on a terrible date and you’re my waitor please help me

95.Our dick landlord just evicted us both

96.I’m your neighbor and I can hear you fucking someone who  shares my name

97. You’re sort of famous and we vaguely know each other through bumping into each other all the time but the media thinks we’re dating

98. Your roommate cheated on me and I just threw your laptop out the window thinking it was his

99. It’s 2am on the night of my 21st birthday and we gotta fix this fucking mess by morning or else we’re fucked

100.Fuck you and your bee farm I’ve had enough

Feel free to use any of these as your own! If you wanna request you could drop an inbox saying ‘ could you do ____ AU with this character’!

[puckmeupfam]

Locked Down | Tyson Jost

Word Count: 1969 Note: This is my first time writing non-headcanon-y fanfic, but Tyson is my... exactly my type so here goes nothing

It was probably a mistake to bring your boyfriend back to your hometown for the holidays. You knew this. It wasn’t that you were worried that your parents wouldn’t like him. No, Tyson puts his hand on the small of your back and leans in to check on you randomly throughout the day which makes your mom give you a knowing look. And his mom raised him to go in the kitchen, put on an apron, and ask to be put to work - even if he was hopeless. Tyson was any parent’s dream boyfriend. The problem was that your family, and specifically your female relatives, had the tendency to be a bit overbearing… especially when it came to your love life.

“(Y/N), can you come help me in the kitchen for a minute,” your mother called. Your hand was in Tyson’s and your legs were intertwined so he also rose to follow you. “Not you Tyson, dear, you just relax,” she said. You looked back at Tyson to see him shrug and go back to watching the cheesy Netflix movie. Your fuzzy sock covered feet shuffled to the kitchen where your mom was waiting. “What do you need,” you asked as you entered to which your mom replied with a belabored sigh. “I don’t actually need anything,” she gave you a duh look which made you feel more like you were back in middle school than a grown adult talking with your mother. “I just wanted to talk to you about that boyfriend of yours,” your mom said with a smirk. Now you were the one sighing. You move to slouch against the counter as your mom keeps talking.

“I think we were all just wondering when you were going to lock that down.”

“Mother,” you gasped. This made that damn smirk on her face grow. You and Tyson had been dating for less than a year, you had met his family during the playoffs and then again when you visited him in the off-season and the holidays had been his turn. All you had wanted was a peaceful trip. You had even thought it might be the best holiday season yet because you would have Tyson with you, but of course, your family had to meddle. He was the first boyfriend you had ever officially brought home. And ever since you were in high school there were always relative and family friends asking if you had a boyfriend yet or if you would be willing to go out with Janet’s “very successful” grandson. 

“Mom, we aren’t there yet,” you started, “we’re young and we haven’t been together long and Tyson has hockey.” Your mom rolled her eyes and batted her hand as if none of that mattered. “(Y/N), he’s a wonderful boy and all I’m saying is that your grandma is getting older and you know she would want to go to your wedding…” she told you. “Are you really trying to guilt me into getting married? This is a new low” you huffed. Your mom was sadly not one to stop pressing. “My veil is upstairs and, I mean, you really don’t want to wait too long.” You determinedly spun around to march out of the kitchen. As you reentered the living room you paused for a second as you saw Tyson curled up with a blanket on the sofa, seemingly enamored with the silly holiday movie. You moved to stand in front of him and reached both of your hands out for his. “Do you want to go somewhere,” you asked. Even though the movie seemed to be at its climax with the main character going through some kind of post-breakup montage, Tyson dutifully stood up and went with you as you pulled him to the door to get your coats, keys, and shoes. 

The sun went down so early in the winter so while it wasn’t that late it was dark out… and cold. Not quite raining or snowing, but there were wet flurries here and there as you walked down the path towards the car. Tyson hopped in the passenger’s seat because you knew the roads having grown up here. Both of you were quiet as you began to drive. There wasn’t a clear destination in your head. You headed towards the downtown part of the city where there was more to do, just hoping that something would jump out at you. That something that you had been waiting for jumped out at Tyson instead.

“Hey, hey, hey, (Y/N),” he blurted out excitedly. As you looked at what he was frantically pointing at you saw the outdoor ice rink. You looked back at him questioningly. “Tyson, you skate every day,” you said. “Yeah, but not with you,” he replied drawing out the last word. At that, you exaggeratingly raised your eyebrow thinking of the Avs family skate the two of you had gone to just over a week ago. He returned your look with puppy dog eyes that had you pulling into the first available parking spot. 

While you were waiting in line for your skates, Tyson hip-checked you and then pulled you back by your clasped hand. You thought he probably sensed that something was off. If your quietness wasn’t enough of an indicator, the fact that you rushed out of the kitchen and then promptly dragged him out of the house definitely was. He moved to wrap an arm around your waist and then kissed the top of your hair. Tyson had the wonderful quality of always being snuggly warm without overheating you so you pressed yourself against him in an attempt to warm up. 

Once you finally had your rented skates in hand, he insisted on tying them for you. Afterwards, he reached out a hand to pull you up. While you hadn’t been raised a skater in any sense, Tyson had worked hard to teach you on a few different occasions which meant that at this point you could solidly skate around without falling. As your skating ability increases so did his ability to tease you while skating. When you first started he couldn’t even move from your death grip without you panicking, but now that you could keep yourself steady he could pull you faster or be otherwise obnoxious to make you laugh. In this case, it meant Tyson trying to spin you under his arm like you were ballroom dancing. This meant that you would inevitably stumble into his chest, both of you in fits of giggles. 

That was one of your favorite parts of dating Tyson. He had an uncanny ability to cheer you up. If you had a bad day at work he would put on a production of singing ‘00s pop songs until tears were streaming down your face from laughing so hard. When he was in Edmonton and you were still in Colorado, he sent you a framed picture of himself with a note that said, “just because I know you miss me sooooooooooooo much.” Now here he was spinning you around an outdoor rink in your hometown, being perfect one again. 

As the night grew on, the other skaters began to clear out which left just you, Tyson, and a group of three teenagers still on the ice. The two of you were skating more calmly while you chatted quietly about random things - some prank he had played on JT, a story Grandpa Jost had told about his band practice, a project you were doing at work. Eventually, he pulled you to the side of the rink so that you faced each other. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened,” he asked with a knowing look on his face. You tried to play dumb and put on your best I have no idea what you’re talking about face. Tyson sighed, “do you really think I’ll believe that you just happened to storm out of the kitchen and drag me out for no reason?” He clearly had you cornered but in a last ditch effort you tried to steer the conversation away one more time: “I thought you were having fun! You’re the one who wanted to go skating.” Tyson crossed his arms and gave you a look which told you he wasn’t going to let you avoid the question.

“Okay, fine. My mom was just pressuring me… about you. And I needed a break,” you told him. As you looked back up to make eye contact you could see Tyson’s face drop. “Oh,” he said, “I thought they liked me.” Your heart broke at how sad he looked. It was clear that he really was trying hard to impress them and valued their opinion of him. Even though you would rather not tell him just how much your family liked him, you knew that you had to. It might make things a bit awkward - not because he would get scared off, but because you knew that he would likely tease you incessantly - but it would at least take the kicked puppy look off of your boyfriend’s face.

You sighed, “no Tyson, they fucking loved you, that’s the problem.” The sad look on his face diminished slightly, curiosity taking its place. “My mom may have been asking me when I was going to lock that down,” you told him, making air quotes around the final words. At this, Tyson broke out into a wide smile, “I see.” He spun away a bit and broke out into Gracie Hart’s, “you think I’m gorgeous, you wanna daaaate me, love me, and marry me!” You put your hands to your red face and began skating towards him as he waggled his eyebrows and did a little dance. “Tyson it’s not funny,” you whined. At this point you had reached the other side of the rink as he wrapped his arms around your waist and once again pressed you against the rail. 

“Seriously though, (Y/N), like, I see a future with you… You’re my favorite person and when I do get “locked down” I want you to do it.” He was clearly trying to make it a bit of a joke in case you didn’t respond the same way, but it still took you aback. In all honesty, you loved Tyson and couldn’t see yourself with anyone else. “Well, yeah, I’m hopelessly in love with you, Tys. But that doesn’t mean that I want my mom shoving her veil in my hands,” you were mumbling into his chest, but he heard you. “Yeah, I still have to buy a ring… hire a flashmob, all that stuff,” he teased. You jokingly pushed him away which made him laugh loudly while pulling you back into him. 

With both of you feeling content and the night air getting colder and colder you went back to your parent’s house for the night. You entered the front door, instantly feeling the warmth from the fireplace. The adults who were staying over were in similar positions to how you left them. They seemed to be playing some sort of card game around the coffee table. You waved to everyone as you pulled Tyson with you towards the stairs. Right before you would be out of their view, Tyson stopped and turned around.

“(Y/M/N), I’ll give you a heads up of when to pull out the veil, okay?” he shouted down. You looked to see a massive grin take over your mom’s face. “Tyson!” you chastized before running up the stairs to follow his giggling form to your room. Embarrassment and meddling mothers aside, you felt light and happy knowing that you and Tyson were in it for the long haul. The two of you had countless more giggly, teasing nights ahead of you and you couldn’t wait.

[nat-roman0ff]

a lesson in shakesbeer

drunk!bestfriend shawn [fluff]

wc: 2,680

warnings: overzealous alcohol consumption, some bad words, & confessions.

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“Shawn Mendes, Lord of Pickering, Prince of Toronto, King of Adelaide Street, whilst thou please remove thy very large body from ye olde table before thoust gets thy ass kicked out?” 

Shawn stands with his hands on his hips staring back down at you from the table he’s perched upon, “you didn’t say it rightttttt!” He slurs. 

 He is (very clearly) drunk and refusing to get down from the table at the local bar you and your friends are occupying. It’s a normal Saturday night, one that Shawn just happens to be home for. You miss him, like, every fucking waking moment of your life that you aren’t next to him. But we can save that for later. 

 Right now, you’re dealing with Drunk Shawn. He doesn’t come out to play very often, but when he does usually resembles a toddler during their terrible twos stage, except he’s six foot two and can usually outrun you. After about his fourth tequila shot, you noticed Normal Shawn starting to fade away, and Drunk Shawn starting to take over. 

 You see, Drunk Shawn isn’t just a giant man baby with no sense of direction, Bambi legs, and a knack for getting punched in the face. No, Drunk Shawn also has made a habit of quoting Shakespeare (completely out of context) while under the influence. 

 “I don’t care if I didn’t say it right. I care that you get off that table before you get your ass kicked or fall and crack your fucking head open,” you reply, hands on your hips and ready to leave.

 It’s almost closing time, Shawn’s already been cut off, and three quarters of your group had already left for the night. 

 Shawn gasps, putting a hand over his mouth, “Princess of Tim Hortons said a bad word!” He points.

 You roll your eyes, “Shawn I’m counting to three and if you’re not off this table I’m calling your mother-” 

 “Don’t call Karen! Ugh - FINE!” He groans and jumps off, barely managing to land on his two feet and still stumbles into you, knocking you into the barstool behind you, “hey pretty lady,” he giggles. 

 “You’re so fucking stupid,” you half laugh, half groan. 

 Shawn rests his head on your shoulder, because of the height difference most of his body is bent in half, his ass sticking straight out, “but you’re my best friend and you love meeeeeee!”

 “Not by choice.” 

 Shawn gives a peck to your neck. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. Shawn has always been a touchy person, even as your best friend. But some days, particularly the dark ones after a certain hour of the night has passed you hope one day his touches mean more. But right now you’re both twenty and he’s an international pop star and well, you’re just you.

 “The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Shawn replies, his arm curling around you, “that ones from Hamlet,” he whisper giggly into your ear as if you didn’t pass tenth grade English.

 “Didn’t he fuck his mom?” 

 Shawn scoffs, “No, that was Oedipus and that’s Greek mythology you cultureless swine.” 

 You put up your hands defensively, “I’m sorry oh wise one. Put your goddamn coat on so we can leave.” 

 “Alrightttt,” Shawn pouts, “no more fine elixir for me tonight. Did you close my tab?” 

 You pull his credit card from you pocket, “yes I did, thank you for the Shirley Temples and nachos.” 

 He plucks the card from your fingertips, “you’re lucky I love you.” 

 You audibly sigh, “yeah, that’s it.” 

 “Love is a smoke, and is made with the fume of SIGHS,” he emphasises the last word.

 “Honestly I’m impressed. I didn’t think you knew how to read,” you joke. 

 Shawn pushes himself into you while wrestling with his jacket, “I scorn you, scurvy companion,” he says, grabbing your hand and pulling you outside. 

 You fumble with your umbrella, trying not to get hit by the downpouring rain. It’s coming down in buckets, so hard and so fast that the water droplets bounce off the pavement on the road. 

 “This isn’t necessary,” Shawn states, pulling the umbrella from your hands and tossing it into the street, narrowly missing a passing car. 

 They scream some obscenities out the window and the next car that passes crushes it, shaking their fist at the two of you. 

 “Are you fucking insane!?” You squawk, half wet and fully pissed off.

 “Madness in great ones must not unwatched go,” Shawn replies, bringing his face dangerously close to yours. 

 There’s a glint of something in his eye. He has that shit eating grin on his face and his eyes are all glassy and his hair is completely fucked. 

 “Fuck you William Shakespeare!” You shout into the street.

 Shawn pulls you out into the rain. Thankfully it’s warm, but you’re soaked within seconds, “he was a great man, you know.” 

 “He married his cousin, he can’t be that great.” 

 Shawn stops dead in his tracks and glares at you like you just insulted all of his greatest ancestors, “that was Edgar Allen Poe, not Shakespeare. How did you even pass English in high school?” 

 “I cheated off you.” 

 Shawn shrugs, “true.” He pauses for a moment before his smile widens, “Let’s go!” 

 He pulls on your hand, hard, “shit, Shawn slow down you’re going to rip my arm out of its socket.” 

 He can’t hear you over the sound of the rain (or he’s ignoring you, which is also another viable option) and continues to run. At this point, you’re so goddamn soaked that it doesn’t matter how many puddles he pulls you through. There aren’t many people left on the streets at this point in the night. It’s late, and the rain tends to keep most people in cars or condos. 

 You were lucky enough to have neither right now. 

 Shawn continues to hold your hand as you run, your dress now clinging to your body so tightly you aren’t quite sure how you’re going to get it off. Your legs are slick and wet and you thank all of your lucky stars and sensibility that you wore normal shoes tonight.

 He looks back periodically to check on you, his curly hair now sticking to the sides of his face. There’s a look of such fierce fearlessness that you’re taken back by it. Fearless not in the sense that he’d do something reckless and put himself in danger, but that he can finally just take a deep breath and let go.

 Being the best friend of Shawn Mendes hadn’t come without a few (hundred) hurdles. Everything happened so quickly for him in the beginning and you were proud and happy for him. But there was a sense of you that felt left behind. Looking back it seems like it happened overnight; the fame, the touring, the constant fucking ache of missing him. 

 You had determined at a very young age that you were in love with Shawn. Now, hear this out. This wasn’t a can’t eat, can’t sleep without you type of thing. It ebbed and flowed. You’d gotten so used to the idea of never ever being with him that it only crept up on major holidays, birthdays, and some leap years, with a day or long weekend sprinkled in here and there. Brian was the only one who knew, and shockingly he’d managed to keep his fat mouth shut for this many years. This missing Shawn, though, that never left. That shit was constant. 

 The lights of Shawn’s condo building glows in the distance and you’re relieved. You’re soaked, mildly annoyed, and ready for bed.

 “Welcome Home, m’lady,” Shawn says out of breath and opening the front door to the building. 

 The overnight doorman stares blankly at the both of you as you trail small puddles behind with each step to the elevator. Shawn lets you step in first and leans against the wall, his head lulling backwards as he shuts his eyes, “I’m so fucking drunk,” he mutters.

 “No shit.” 

 His head falls forward and his eyes lock with yours, “how come you never drink with me?” 

 “One of us has to be the responsible one,” you answer.

 Truthfully, you drank, sometimes. You suppose it wasn’t your thing and while you’re up for a good time, you feel like you can’t ever get that way with Shawn. God only knows what would fall out of your mouth when inhibitions were low. 

 The elevator opens to his floor and you follow him to the door. It takes him seven tries with his key before you pluck it from his fumbling fingertips and unlock the deadbolt. He trips and falls into the hallway as he pulls off his shoes and you roll your eyes at him. Shawn crawls behind you, grabbing at your legs and ankles, giggling every time he trips you up. 

 God, he really is annoying.

  You stop in the hallway, opening the door to the closet where the washer and dryer are. Your jacket peels off with difficulty. Shawn senses your struggle and clammers to his feet to help you out of it. The dress you’re wearing comes off a little easier, and you throw both items of clothing into the washing machine. Shawn’s eyes are glued to your body as you’re wearing only a bra and underwear. 

 “Eyes up here,” you wave your finger up, “now you strip.” 

 It’s a struggle, truly, to watch Shawn try to wiggle out of his sopping wet clothes. Finally, after elbowing a wall, falling twice, knocking over a framed photo of Drake (don’t ask) and stepping on your foot, you offer to help him undress.

 “Arms up,” you instruct and he grins sideways, his lazy eye more prominent than ever. 

 He follows your command and whips his arms up into the air. Your fingers graze his stomach and chest as you lift his wet shirt that clings to life on him. His skin is so impossibly warm and you resist the urge to run your palms across his broad chest and toned stomach. You look up only to catch him staring at you as you unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans. Slowly, you kneel down and peel the soaked denim away from his skin. Shawn steps backwards out of them and almost falls again. You throw the last of the clothes into the washer and start the machine.

 “Let’s get you a nice hot shower and then into bed, hmm?” You suggest, he still hasn’t taken his eyes off of you.

 Shawn swallows hard, “um, yeah,” he replies more soberly than you’ve heard him all night, his voice a touch deeper than usual. 

 He steps past you and into the bathroom. You’re left with the air of tension he left behind. What was going through his mind when he couldn’t take his eyes off of you? You’ve gotta stop thinking like that, you say to yourself, it’s never going to happen. You take a deep breath and shake off what you can. 

 When you’re in Shawn’s room you find one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants to change into. You peel off your wet undergarments and are welcomed with the feeling of clean, warm clothes. He’s put on some early John Mayer stuff and you can hear it echoing from the bathroom and floating into the bedroom along with his singing along. 

 You’re thinking too much about it again; these are the types of days and just around the time of night when you let your thoughts get loose and wander around the what ifs. What’s the worst that could happen if you tell him? Oh, just ruin a lifelong friendship because you can’t stand looking at his honey brown eyes and stupid curly hair without feeling like you’re going to burst.

 Maybe one day you’ll get over it, maybe one day you’ll be able to wake up and that dull ache of longing won’t be there anymore. Time definitely makes it easier, and him being gone for most of it. But all it takes is a late night and an overactive imagination and it all comes bubbling back up like it had never gone away in the first place. And you’ll spend days cramming it all back down again and things will be good and normal once again. 

 Shawn shouts your name from the shower and you rush to the door, expecting him to have fallen or something equally as clumsy in his drunken state. 

 “What?! What’s wrong?” You ask from the other side of the bathroom door. 

 “Nothing, just come in here I’m bored.” 

 You roll your eyes, of course.

 “Are you decent?” You ask. 

 “Never.” 

 “Am I going to see your ham and eggs if I come in there?” You groan. 

 Shawn laughs, “just come in pleaseeeee,” he whines. 

 The bathroom is full of steam and you can see the outline of Shawn’s body though the frosted glass shower. You sit on the edge of the sink, letting your legs dangle off the edge, “so what did you need me so badly for?” 

 Shawn’s head pops out when he cracks open the shower door, “just missed you. Come here!” He reaches out with a grabby hand.

 “God, what?” You jump off the counter and stride over to the open shower door. 

 Careful not to look too far south you stand in front of him with your hands on your hips. 

 “Are those my clothes?” He asks. 

 You nod, “yeah, wasn’t about to sleep in my wet ones.” 

 Shawn smiles wide, “I know a way that’ll make them look better.” 

 Before you can formulate a response, he’s pulling you into the shower, your back pressed against the tiled wall. You can feel its hard chill against your back. 

 “Shawn! What the FUCK!” You yell, slapping his chest. 

 For the second time tonight, your clothing is drenched. 

 He takes a step to close the gap between you, his chest pressed into you. You watch the water cascade down his shoulders and disappear behind his back as his wet hair drops fat beads of water onto you.

 “What are you doing?” You ask, your voice just barely a whisper. 

 Shawn curls his index finger and rests it under your chin, forcing your face up to look at him, “we gotta talk.” 

 “We’ve been talking all night -” 

 “I love you,” he blurts. 

 It’s not the first time he’s said it, not by any means. You’re best friends. It’s a normal thing to say to your best friend. 

 “Yes Shawn I love you too -” 

 He cuts you off again, but this time with a kiss. Your whole body freezes and your legs go numb. There’s a brief ringing in your ears and slowly it fades from static until you’re crash landed back onto planet Earth and the sounds of the shower are echoing around the two of you, his lips moving slowly and precisely against yours.

 You place both hands on his chest to push him away, “Shawn, you’re drunk, you aren’t thinking straight.” 

 Your mind is a mess. Part of you is screaming that it’s real, and it’s finally happening. All the while the other is convincing you every which way that he’s just out of his goddamn mind drunk.

 Shawn holds your face in both hands, “I’m not, I’m in love with you. Always have been and don’t act stupid because I know you are too. It just had to be one of us that finally did something about it.” 

 He gives you another kiss and it’s just as tender as the first one. Shawn leaves one hand on your face, and lets the other roam, staring at your hip, and sliding up the back of your wet shirt. 

 “Hold up,” you interrupt, his eyes still closed and lips still pressed together when you poke a finger into his chest, “you weren’t drunk at all this whole time?” 

 Shawn shakes his head. 

 “You absolute asshole!” You stomp, and he pulls you in flush against him for a hug. 

 “That’s my girl.” 

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

hello friends! this was a fun lil blurb to write tonight after a stressful day at work. i hope everyone else has as much fun with it as i did writing it. let me know what you think! :)

[tenpointstoq]

Geraskier Oxford Professor Modern Au

Geralt is sent to watch over Jaskier a Mythology teacher at Oxford.

I am putting this up to see if people even want me to bother with it so 🤷🏻

He’s so impossibly beautiful it makes the wolf’s heart ache. His glasses slipping down his delicate nose, brown curls an utter mess because he’s been running his hands through it idly for hours now. Geralts been watching the man for a few weeks now. He’s a suspected target, a fancy word for, this pretty boy is bait. Oxford is a rather pleasant place to camp out, considering some of the places Geralt has been lately, watching a beautiful professor for days on end inside fire warm rooms, indulging himself in the mans chamomile and honey sweet scent. He’s counting himself lucky.

Jaskier naturally had no idea about any of this, he’s been a professor of mythological studies for a few years now. While his subject matter covers a lot of rather dangerous cases, he’s never come close to being in actual danger. His battles are read in the depths of the library, not out in the wilds like some of his friends who chose to do field work studies. For one it would mean Jaskier would have to give up his fine easier costs, suits and wonderful jumpers and no thank you. He was all too fond of his wardrobe. Jakier likes his life, his students are a dream to teach, eating up his every word, the paper he’s been writing is coming along nicely and if he plays his cards right he may just romance the new library assistant into an evening of fine wine. With the protection of the college mages he believes his teachings on the more recent occurrences of occult magic and their capabilities of conjuring dark entities will bring him no harm. The poor boy couldn’t be any less wrong.

Yen is the one who get’s Geralt the job, she’s been freelancing for oxford for a while now, with the rise in varying schools of magic over the recent years the way her order works has had to adapt. Almost no one stayed at a post for too long, with Witcher’s on the decline and unknown magics raging war around the world Yennefer and her fellow mages had their hands full. Geralt himself had been overwhelmed with work as of late, for once the idea of protection duty actually sounded nice. Though the dark creatures that he was tasked with protecting Jaskier from rather took away from the holiday like experience Oxford otherwise promised.

The campus was crawling with magical beings, many the kind that were simple pests Geralt wouldn’t mind swatting, however the rules of the damn college gave the creatures safe passage. The students and teachers studied them and as payment the creatures were given a safe space to reside. They had a Kelpie in the lake for fucks sake. Though when Geralt had visited it, he was glad to see that it seemed entirely uninterested in eating him, though it was delighted to meet roach. Things were going oddly well for a solid month of Geralt's protection duty, during winter Witcher’s tended to return to their training grounds, while Geralt no longer followed such traditions he did tend to leave the wilds when the frosts set in. Getting paid to stay indoors with fires and good food wasn’t something he was going to complain about anytime soon. The people at the college were perfectly pleasant, watching Jaskiers classes were in general rather amusing, the mans love for his subject matter was highly evident as his excitement bubbled from him in every lesson. It was rather endearing really, the way his ocean blue eyes would light up at a particularly tricky question posed to him by a student. When the man wasn’t teaching he tended to be stuck in dusty corners of the library or in his own quarters, frantically writing and reading. That wasn’t to say Jaskier was a saint, no, Geralt had spent many a night watching the gorgeous young thing drinking at the university tavern, chatting up men and women alike, he was rather popular, though on more than one occasion Geralt had helped Jaskier escape a jealous partner who had gone after Jaskier for dipping his hand into someone else’s box of sweets. He was discreet of course, Jaskier had no idea he had a guardian angel, if Geralt had it his way he never would.

That was the thing with a world of Monster and chaos, one rarely got their way and so it was that half way through a presentation on a collection of relics Jaskier had surprised the head of his faculty with, that Jaskier almost fell prey to a corrupted Jorogumo. The Yokai was clever, she had masked herself well, with the scent of magical creature so thickly wound into the damn campus Geralt had needed to use his other senses to detect his prey. As the pretty woman beside him burst open, enormous spiders legs unfurling from her back, an inhuman scream tearing from her lips, Geralt was already pushing Jaskier behind him, barking a ‘FUCK OFF’ to the other equally shocked staff as they scrambled to get out of the way and escape.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide as Geralt, his silver hair flashing in the twilight, stood over him, his silver sword slashing through the air before him. “Stay close” he growled at Jaskier, before he dodged to the side, drawing the woman’s poison oozing mandibles as far from Jaskier as he could. While Jorogumo were a bit of a handful on a good day, a corrupted one was something all together, Geralt’s eyes flooded black as he side stepped another attack, the glass bottle in his hand smashing across the floor. She moved with a grace that Geralt would have admired if she wasn’t trying to kill him. There was so much to watch with this kind of creature. Her objective was to capture Jaskier with her web, something she could do even while bound in combat. Geralt was fast, casting signs to push her back, his teeth gritting as he met her claws with his blade, the dark magics within her allowing her exoskeleton to act more like armour. He would have to be clever, to strike the woman’s body, hanging in the middle of it’s form. In the end it was Jaskier who allowed him to make the fatal blow. As he and the creature went toe to toe, parrying each blow, crushing one another into the ancient stone of the hall, Jaskier had scuttled back to gather his bags, inside he kept several potions, which, if mixed just so could be of use for such situations. While he wasn’t a trained fighter, he wasn’t foolish enough to study monsters without any form of protection.

“HIRUMI!” Through the haze of his potion Geralt blinked as the creature slowed, dropping him as she turned towards Jaskiers a feral grin spreading her too wide mouth into a horrifying expression, her long teeth red with blood. Jaskier had poured a potion of some kind all over himself, the scent drew as Geralt's senses for a moment, he felt the beast within him shift, his nose raised to the air, the man's scent utterly intoxicating. He really was making himself bait. He had used a scenting spell that made it near impossible for magical beings to resist him. In her haste to get to her prize, the creature lost her footing, allowing Geralt a moment to strike, one he took with precise action, slicing through the soft space between her front legs, dragging himself up as she began to rear back Geralt let out a growl as he watched Jaskier run forwards, drawing the woman’s attention once more, as Geralt pressed his blade through her heart. The creature collapsed upon the two men, coating them in black acrid blood, pinning them to the stone flagstones.

As Jaskier panted, a gentle groan emerging from his chest as he pushed one of her legs from him, he turned, looking as Geralt through smashed glasses, “Suppose this is about as good a time as any to introduce myself?” Geralt gave the young man a grunt in response, pushing the dead carcass from his sword. Once on his feet he pulled Jaskier up, pulling at his clothing to check for wound marks. “Or you could manhandle me, that’s fine too. You know if you want to know if I am inured you could just ask?” Jaskier chimed, black blood dripping onto his cheek as Geralt's hands stilled, his thumb settling over a red mark towards the back of Jaskiers neck. “When did you get this?” Geralt growled, cursing under his breath as he looked at the wound site.

“Oh that? Sometime yesterday? Hirumi was helping me unpack the relics I was… oh.” Jaskier stopped, his eyes going wide as he looked over the obliterated room around them. “The Relics! There are utterly destroyed! Fuck, they were on lend from Cambridge. They are going to have an utter field day, it been hard eno-.” “JASKIER.” Geralt interrupted, drawing Jakiers gaze back to the man who’s strong hands were fisted in his jacket. “Yes well see it’s just a little bug bite, when you deal with old books and relics you can’t help but end up with creepy crawlies.” He admitted, watching as the dark color in Geralt's face slowly began to retract.His eyes shifting from black to gold. Realising all too late that he was in the presence of an actual Witcher.

“That’s why I couldn’t smell her.” Geralt cursed, glancing over his shoulder before he slid his sword back into its hilt and started to make his way towards the door, Jaskier in tow. “Shouldn’t we do something about that?” Jaskier squeaked, glancing over his shoulder as part of the ceiling rained down onto the dead monster. “Your people have people ready for this kind of thing, we need to get you to a mage.” Geralt growled.

So shall I bother with this? Y? N?

[haloud]

many times, many ways

a malex christmas gift for christi @michaels-blackhat, who inspired me into holiday fluff and who spent this month writing wonderful gifts--I hope you enjoy this one in return! Happy holidays, everyone!

-- ao3 --

An unmarked package. An envelope, more accurately, hand-folded out of plain brown paper and left right in front of Alex’s front door. Buffy is sniffing at it before Alex can stop her; he snags her by the collar, heart in his throat, but she’s close enough to nudge it with her nose. Alex holds his breath, but she just lets out a soft boof, then loses interest and heads back inside. Alex, however, can’t be quite so cavalier. It may not have exploded when Buffy moved it, but there are ways other than explosives that a strange package can fuck you up. He fetches a pair of gloves and a particle mask before he even touches it. A small gesture toward security, maybe, but it makes him feel safe enough to work a pocketknife under the tape and slowly pull the paper apart.

Alex blinks twice at what’s inside. Pulls his mask off so it falls around his neck and blinks again. Reaches out to touch it.

It’s…a Christmas ornament. But not any, it’s—it’s light in his palm, a tiny thing, a miniature of a poster he had as a kid, the one Maria smuggled into his car after school and he hung up in the toolshed where no one would see it. Alex holds it up. Dangling from a scrap of black ribbon, the little orange rectangle catches the light, gleaming off the black enamel picking out the singer’s little face and the Danger! At the Picture Show lettering. It’s cold when he clenches it in his fist, heart pumping a hundred miles an hour.

For a second, he’s seventeen again, and he has to laugh at the memory of that kid he used to be, earbuds stuffed in his ears, knees jammed up against the desk waiting for the first period bell to ring. He grins despite himself, turning over the paper again, searching for any kind of note or indication who it’s from. Rosa, maybe? Secret presents are definitely her thing, and she was the one who gave him his first DatPS CD when he was fourteen. Maria is the other person who comes to mind, but Alex hopes she would just give it to him in person—he doesn’t like to think of her being too anxious to give him something like this face to face, what with all the mending fences going on.

He smooths his thumb over the ornament’s glossy surface one more time, then puts it on a shelf for safekeeping for lack of anywhere more festive to put it. He doesn’t really decorate for Christmas; the holidays were only ever more of the same when he was a kid, with a thin, grotesque veneer of family over the top of it.

Things get even more festive the next day, though, when he gets home from work and finds another package, in the same brown paper, sitting on the porch steps. It’s bigger this time, three dimensional, and after a moment of deliberation, Alex picks up the phone. Guerin might laugh at him, but that’s a price he has to be willing to pay.

He doesn’t laugh, though. He rolls up in his truck, that, despite the circumstances and the vaguely tipsy feeling of fear lurking in his blood, Alex has to laugh at—there’s a sprig of mistletoe wrapped in bright red ribbon hanging from the rearview mirror.

Michael bounds over to him and says, slightly breathless, “What did you need me to check out?”

Alex waves his hand in the direction of the stairs. “It’s probably nothing. I got something similar yesterday, and it was fine, I just—”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, I get it. Here, let me.” Michael squeezes Alex’s shoulder, a quick, warm, reassuring touch, then takes a step back. Focusing, he narrows his eyes at the little package, then wings it in an arc off into the empty desert.

A second passes. Nothing blows up. Michael pulls the package back in.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he says, “Sorry if whatever’s in there broke. But whoever sent it to you should have known better. Fucking idiot.”

Alex lets out a long breath, forcing his shoulders to drop and his brow to smooth. “No, it’s okay. ‘Tis the season, right? It could be from anyone.”

“Still.” Michael’s mouth curls downward, like he tastes something foul, like he tends to look whenever he tries to make nice with Kyle. It’s exasperating. It’s also a little sweet, in a twisted way.

The box has the same wrapping, same tape job as yesterday’s envelope. It comes apart easily, and inside is—Alex pulls it out, holds it up.

It’s. It’s an alien, full-on little green man alien, holding up its noodly little hands in two peace signs. Wearing a Santa hat. Covered in gaudy glitter. And still intact—only one piece has snapped off, a little piece of red molding clay that someone clearly fashioned so an ornament hook could go through it.

After a shocked second, Alex lets out a very uncharacteristic giggle; then, face burning, he drops the little alien back into the box and glances up at Michael, who’s watching him with his head tilted and a shy smile of his own on his pink mouth.

Their eyes meet for a long, breath-catching moment, a spark jumping through the cold, dry air from one body to the next. Then they both look away, clearing throats, shoving hands in pockets, and looking up at the sky instead of back at each other, each of them so large in the other’s sight to block out the sun.

“Secret Santa?” Michael says, voice cheerfully flippant. He’s still grinning somehow. Alex wants to wipe that look off his face. With his own face.

“Something like that.”

“Next time try to get someone who knows you better than to get that touristy shit.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Michael leaves after that, making it both easier and harder to breathe. Touristy shit aside, Alex puts the Santa alien on the shelf beside the first ornament, and later that night, after tossing and turning for a little while, he grabs his crutches, goes to the shelf, gropes in Jim’s old toolbox for a tube of superglue, and hunches over the coffee table to fix the clay part, making it an ornament once again.

One is an event. Two is a coincidence. Three ornaments in three days, and it’s a pattern.

No brown paper package shows up the third day; rather, he finds the ornament when he checks his mailbox in town. It’s a little laptop this time, nothing special, but it still brings a smile to his face when he holds it in his palm.

Who could the mystery sender be? It turns into something of an obsession over the next few days, which see him receiving a log cabin, a beagle, and a beautiful handmade silver and turquoise songbird. It’s clearly someone who knows him now, and someone who knows him well enough to know his home, his pet, what he does for a living…it’s a narrow field, to be sure—basically just Maria, Liz, Kyle, or Rosa. He rubs his thumb over the beagle’s little painted nose while Buffy shoots it a suspicious look from the couch as he considers his options.

Whoever it is, Guerin must know, because since the second day, the ornaments have arrived in his mailbox or on his porch unwrapped or in clear plastic wrap if it’s raining out.

Of course, all the evidence could point toward it being Guerin himself. But…somehow, Alex can’t bring himself to believe it, if only because the thought of Michael thinking of him like this, over time, with dedication, makes Alex’s chest ache with longing to see him, to hear him, to feel him. Better it be some scheme of Rosa’s. It’s just…better that way.

The gifts keep coming. Day seven, it’s the Air Force crest; on the eighth and ninth days, he finds a sunbathing alien and a bowl of ramen on his front step. They both go on the increasingly-crowded shelf, though he shoots the ramen a nasty look when he puts it in place. Another point in the Maria column, considering last time he went to one of her movie nights, he was asked to put pizza rolls in the oven and managed to burn them despite absolutely following the instructions on the package.

The tenth day’s ornament arrives in a blue Tupperware container, just translucent enough to see the ornament inside, but not so much he can tell what it is.

He opens it and finds a ball ornament wrapped in strips of paper cut from dictionaries in ten languages he can identify, including all six he speaks. It’s sturdy papier-mâché, but Alex still holds it like it might shatter if he breathes on it too hard. Every line defines things like family, like love, like forever. He returns it to its box and puts it on the shelf with the others, but his fingers linger over the lid, because there are lines he hasn’t traced with his fingertips yet, and he can hardly tear himself away.

He goes into town later that day on a grocery run with words still swimming in his mind and his mouth fixed shut because he’s not sure what might come out. But no level of distraction or concentration could keep him from being blindsided when he runs into Guerin outside the Crashdown, their bodies catching shoulder to shoulder, Guerin’s hand on his arm to steady him—their collision almost knocked a big box out of Guerin’s hands, but he steadies it with a little help from his powers until Alex has his balance back and he can take it in both hands again.

“Alex,” he breathes, then clears his throat. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I could say the same to you,” Alex manages.

Guerin shakes the box lightly. “Liz wants to surprise Arturo with the decorations this year, so I figured I’d offer my services. I’m the only one who can get tinsel into all the hard-to-reach places, after all.”

“Oh, that’s—that’s really nice.”

“Nah, I’m getting paid. Mostly in milkshakes and fries, but who’s complaining?”

They stare across the box. It’s been like this, lately, a small talk stiffness to their interactions, and Alex doesn’t know how to make it stop. But at the same time, he isn’t sure he wants to. It’s almost…nice. A couple weeks ago Alex drove by the junkyard just because he could, and Michael smelled like snow and pine and commented on the weather, and that brief exchange left the both of them grinning like idiots by the time Alex drove away. They aren’t lovers again, not yet. But they’re something. They’re getting there.

“Want some help? I’m free tonight,” Alex says, and Michael smiles at him, and that’s that. Alex comes back late, once the Crashdown is closed and Arturo is in bed. Liz and Rosa come downstairs to work on the decorations too, and more hands makes for light work, though Michael does most of the work without using his hands at all. They’re finished in no time. Alex plugs the lights in, flips the switch, and Rosa laughs, real and unrestrained and tugging Liz into the middle of the floor, dotted with multicolored puddles of light, twirling her in a circle. Sometime during the decorating, Rosa managed to stick Michael with a present ribbon, and it bobbles on top of his curls as he slinks over to Michael’s side to knock their shoulders together. Alex lets him, in the spirit of the season, and because every time Michael touches him his body goes weightless.

Now is as good a time to ask as any.

“So, Guerin,” he says, “I’m still getting ornaments every day. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that you haven’t told me, would you?”

Michael shrugs and grins that cowboy grin. “Looks to me like you’ve got yourself a secret admirer.”

“Secret, huh?”

“Looks that way.”

And before Alex can say another word, Michael is walking away to join Liz and Rosa dancing, whistling Let It Snow. He gets away from Alex that time, but before their little impromptu party is over, Alex manages to steal the bow from his hair, just glancing his fingers off those curls, so lightly Guerin doesn’t even seem to notice.

Whether he’s the ornament giver or not, Alex puts the bow on the shelf with the others. Just in case.

The next day, there’s no ornament when he leaves in the morning, and nothing in his mailbox when he checks it that evening, either. He’s—frustrated, okay, rather than sad, because what was the point? Stopping ten days in, what was even the point? It leaves him feeling untethered, without that tiny little thing to look forward to each and every day. Somehow, without even really noticing, he’d kind of gotten into the Christmas spirit. He even, feeling ridiculous the entire time, went to the pet store and bought a couple gifts for his dog, because he’s in a gift-giving mood even if he’s not sure he’s exchanging gifts with anyone else this year.

He shoulders his way out of the office, avoiding eye contact with the clerk, who’s surely noticed him coming in every single day, when he used to only check his mail once a week at best. Whatever. Now he has no reason to come back so often, and they’ve got plenty of time to forget him, like the way things should be.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he almost smacks Maria right in the face with the door as he leaves. She yelps, and he catches it at just the last second, tripping over apologies while she flaps her hand at him dismissively.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, Alex, really,” she laughs. Alex steadies her with his hands on her shoulders, and she tugs him to the side, out of the way of the sidewalk traffic. “I was hoping to run into you anyway. I have something for you.”

Oh shit. Anxiety spikes, and Alex blabbers, “Oh, shit, Maria, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know we were doing gifts this year—”

Great. Their friendship is finally finding even footing again, and Alex immediately puts himself in the red again by hitting her with a door and tells her straight up that he didn’t get her anything for Christmas. Batting a fuckin’ thousand, isn’t he. No wonder his secret admirer or whatever got bored of him.

“Alex, seriously, chill.” She tweaks his chin. “No presents is one hundred percent fine. You think I’m all about worshipping at the capitalist altar that is Christmas? Hell no. Buuut someone asked me for a favor, and it just so happened that I had something for you anyway, so here you go.”

She grabs his hand and presses into it a beautifully beaded eight-pointed star, red and white and gold. Alex gasps, and says, “This is—”

“One of Mom’s, yeah.” That wry, sad smile Maria gets when she talks about her mother curls up on her face. “She makes a lot of them on her good days, and her nurse says it’s good that she’s working with her hands. And Mom specifically said this one was for you.”

“God.” Alex swallows and grips the star as tightly as he can without crushing it. “Let me know next time you’re going to visit her, okay? So I can thank her in person?”

“Sure thing.”

Maria blinks rapidly for a moment, and Alex, understanding, doesn’t mention it. She composes herself quickly, and then Alex just has to ask:

“So it hasn’t been you the whole time, has it?”

“What, leaving you the ornaments? I am not that sappy.”

“Come on, there’s nothing wrong with being a little sentimental,” he teases.

“Uh huh. Sure. I forgot I was talking to the master of fuzzy feelings himself.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

Maria laughs at that and, hooking her arm through his, starts off down the street. “Now, we may not be exchanging presents this year, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you help me with the rest of my shopping.”

--

The next day’s ornament is a classic Han Solo one, and if Alex lets out an undignified gasp when he sees it, Buffy is the only creature around to witness it. If he spends the rest of the day finding and watching the Star Wars Christmas Special, well, the same goes for that too, and his dignity is firmly intact.

The day after that, Liz texts him to come to the Crashdown, and since it’s a weekend he makes it there to meet her on her lunch break. The decorations look just as good in the daylight, if an inch or two less magical, and Alex has to duck his head to hide his grin when he remembers Michael very seriously placing a Santa hat on each individual alien in the place.

Liz beckons him over to a booth, two shakes and a plate of fries already in front of her. “Figured since I called you out, I could at least treat you,” she says. “On top of what I called you here for, which is….” She does a little drumroll on the table, then plonks an ornament box down on the table.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alex bursts out.

“I know, right? I couldn’t believe it when I found it.”

Laughing and shaking his head, Alex picks it up. It’s a cat wearing an antenna headband so, so similar to the one perched on Liz’s head—the wrong shade of green, but still.

“I don’t suppose this is your way of telling me you’ve been leaving me ornaments all month, is it.”

“Pfft, no way.” Liz steals a fry from his tray and crunches it smugly. “Secret admirer, Manes. It’s supposed to be secret.”

Day fourteen is something delicate, so much so he’s a little scared to touch it. It’s thin glass, deep blue, and when it catches a light source it sends shimmering blue all around the room. It’s the day Alex stops trying to guess who his mystery gift-giver is, because now he’s been given light to hold in his hands, and it makes him feel—makes him—

Someone thought he was worthy of this. Someone wanted him to have it. Whether or not they ever tell him who they are, that means something.

His fifteenth ornament is the third one to come wrapped in a package, but this time it’s in an actual USPS shipping box, and it comes with a letter inside, in handwriting he recognizes.

Captain, it says, we got pressed into service again, and I was the unlucky bastard who drew the short straw, so I’m sending this to you, along with a warning that you fucking owe me…

The ornament is basic, a decently pretty white and silver snowflake. He puts the letter on the shelf with it. If the season is forcing everyone else into a sentimental mood, he might as well succumb to it too.

He wakes up on the sixteenth day with a bit of a sentiment hangover and lets himself lie in bed for a little while longer than usual, fondling Buffy’s soft ears and cradling this lovely, bittersweet feeling inside himself. If Christmas is the deadline for this whole ornament thing, he’s over halfway to the end. He takes the morning slowly, lingering over his coffee and over the view of the desert through his kitchen window, the high def white-gray limning of the world you get with a serious cold.

That day’s ornament doesn’t match Alex’s mood at all, but he still chuckles and shakes his head when he sees it. It’s another patch job like the Santa alien, but this time some sort of Valentines leftover—a traditional Roswell Gray holding a big red heart that says you’re out of this world!, with a handmade place for ornament hooks to go. It looks absurdly out of place next to everything else he’s accumulated, but he gives it its place of honor anyway.

He doesn’t expect his seventeenth ornament to arrive on the doorstep or in the mail, and sure enough, the pattern holds and it’s hand delivered at like ten o’clock that night. He almost doesn’t answer the door, but to be honest he’d left his leg on after work expecting just this.

“Ho ho ho,” an exhausted-looking Kyle says, shoving a box into Alex’s hands.

“Dude, did you drive all the way out here after your shift? It could have waited.”

“Nah, this is my one good deed for the year.”

“You’re literally a surgeon. Your job is good deeds.”

“Fine—my one act of charity.”

Alex bristles at that. “I don’t need—”

“Not for you.” Kyle punches him lightly on the shoulder.

Cryptic bastard.

“Go ahead and open it,” Kyle says, “My blood is eighty percent coffee right now, and I want to get home before I crash”

“You know you can stay if you need to.”

“Yeah, yeah. Open it.”

Alex’s eyebrows go straight up when he does and pulls out a shimmery white ball with the Buffy the Vampire Slayer logo on it. “You didn’t pick this out yourself. You asked me why I gave my dog a porn name the first time you met her.”

“Hey! I listened when you explained—” When Alex fixes him with a glare, Kyle gives in with a laugh. “Okay, okay, Rosa helped. Oh ye of little faith.”

Kyle leaves after that, with a quick hug and a Merry Christmas, and Alex goes to his shelf to put the ornament away. He hasn’t been keeping them in chronological order, more a sort of a…thematic grouping. The Buffy ball goes with Maria’s star, Liz’s alien cat, and the snowflake from his unit.

He looks up and turns away, casting his eyes all around the room to hide from no one the fact that he’s getting a little bit choked up.

Maybe he’ll buy some lights tomorrow. Or tinsel or something. No reason he can’t go in on the decorating, right? Why is he still holding himself back?

--

He doesn’t make it to the store the next day, or the two after that, three days that see him receiving a coffee mug, a UFO that’s supposed to light up when it’s plugged in, and a little truck hauling a Christmas tree.

He wonders if maybe that last one is a promise.

The pattern of hand deliveries every other day has been broken. But, in the spirit of the season—Alex doesn’t dwell on the fact that he never got one hand-delivered by Michael and instead chooses to think about the other thing that could mean.

On day twenty-one, he gets a glass teardrop that shimmers purple and golden, and on day twenty-two he gets a golden disc engraved with a tiny, perfect star chart.

The day before Christmas Eve, he opens the door to find an acoustic guitar.

As if he didn’t already know.

--

Christmas Eve dawns gray and dismal with the smell of snow in the air. Buffy trots around the yard in circles, lifting her nose every couple minutes to sniff the cold, and Alex cradles his coffee in both hands to keep them warm while he watches her, content. Part of him regrets that he never went and got more decorations, but it’s okay. This whole month—it’s been such an unexpected thing to be able to accept a simple joy into his life, to let himself expect a little, uncalled-for gift every day, that all he can feel at this point is just…peace. He couldn’t have asked for anything else. He didn’t.

Buffy barks, and Alex looks up just in time to see a familiar truck coming down the road, the bed covered with a tarp. Alex puts his mug down on the railing and regrets it instantly for want of something to do with his hands as Michael parks, opens the door, and jumps out of the car.

“Hey,” Alex says.

“Hey. Merry Christmas,” Michael says in return.

They just stare at each other for a moment, something that happens a lot when it’s just the two of them. Like they have to steel themselves to speak. Like they have to make sure that no, it’s not, it’s not the time to take that step forward and drown themselves in each other. It’s okay, yeah, it’s okay to just be here. Like this.

“Want some help with that?” Alex tilts his chin in the direction of the tarp.

“Y-yeah. Sure.” He stumbles over the word and ducks his head, rounding the truck to reveal what’s underneath.

It’s exactly what Alex expected, and everything he never did. His heart in his throat, he touches one of the branches on the tree, needles pricking his skin, sap sticky on his fingertips when he pulls them away.

“You get the other end,” Michael says, and they carry it inside together, a crate full of other decorations floating along behind them, Buffy pulling up the rear, eyeing it suspiciously. She settles in the corner to watch as Michael sets the tree up, hammers it into the stand, and positions it in the corner where it’ll be out of Alex’s way.

Alex hovers in the kitchen, making them both more coffee, hands shaking a little bit on the grounds, on the filter, on the carafe. The tree still takes up too much room. Michael takes up too much room. He always has. In this tiny house. In Alex’s heart and in his head and between his ribs. Michael pulls things out of the crate one by one and hangs them in the air around himself—bundles of lights, a skirt for the tree, multicolored balls and delicate paper snowflakes to fill all the spots left between the ornaments in Alex’s new collection.

Their fingers brush when Alex hands him a mug, and Alex lets the moment hang there. Skin on skin in the most casual, innocent way, but with Michael’s golden eyes so close it still manages to heat his blood, dry his mouth, cover him in yearning.

“Thanks,” Michael says hoarsely. He drags his index finger along Alex’s as he pulls his hand away, sending a shiver through the both of them.

Decorating for Christmas shouldn’t feel forbidden, but it does. It does, as they circle around each other, spiraling lights around the tree, eyes catching on every pass, Alex’s face so warm every time he sees Michael’s answering blush, on his cheeks, on his lips. Once the lights are on, they start in on the ornaments. Alex picks them off the shelf in chronological order, passing half of them to Michael, keeping half of them—like Mimi’s star, Han Solo, and the guitar—for himself.

“How did you manage it?” He asks eventually, fixing the teardrop to a high branch so Buffy doesn’t get any ideas.

“A friend who knows how to navigate Etsy, a sister with Amazon Prime, and a little bit of old-fashioned gumption.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Sure am.” Michael grins with satisfaction at the Valentines alien. Then he sobers a bit and says, “Hey, look, I’m sorry about the packaging the first couple days. I wanted to surprise you—I wasn’t thinking, and I should have.”

“It’s okay. You changed it up, and…yeah. It’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

A couple minutes pass in silence as Alex searches for what else to say. To ask. Why did he do it? When did he get the idea?

He asks, “What about the others? The ones you had Maria, Liz, Kyle, and the guys pick out? Red herrings, or did you just run out of ideas?”

“Oh, I had lots of ideas.” Michael presses his shoulder to Alex’s, coming in close to hang the star chart right beside the silver bird. Nudging him shyly, Michael says, “But my favorite one was the one where you got reminded how many people care about you.”

Alex almost drops the UFO at that, at Michael’s absurd honesty. He has nothing else to say, and they finish decorating the tree in peaceful silence. When they finish, Alex turns the lights off, and Michael plugs the tree in, and the gray day is dark enough that everything lights up bright like it would in the evening, all the colors of the rainbow.

“Fuck,” Alex breathes. It’s like a punch to the gut, happiness and disbelief and the unavoidable need to hoard this feeling, this moment, that comes on the heels of those feelings.

“So you like it?”

“Fuck,” Alex repeats, “Michael. I love it. It’s…I just…”

“Good.”

Michael, hesitating all the way, reaches out and takes Alex’s hand, sliding their fingers home together.

“I have one more ornament for you.” And he reaches into his pocket.

Alex makes a strangled noise when he sees it. Instinct tells him to rip his hand out of Michael’s and flee to the other side of the room to regroup, but he stays rooted in place, struggling, grasping for anything to say.

The console shard—because that’s what it has to be, just with gauzy ribbon looped and knotted carefully around one end so it dangles neatly from Michael’s fingers—shimmers in the soft rainbow light. Michael’s eyes shimmer along with it, equally as alien.

“I can’t,” Alex blurts. “I can’t take it. Michael. No. It’s—”

“No, no, listen, please.” Michael tugs on his hand like he wants to pull him closer, but Alex can’t—he just can’t—

He can’t be what ties Michael to Earth. He can’t be the sole tether that keeps him here, to the world that hurt him again and again, even if it’s the thing he wants most in the world, to protect, to hoard him like he hoards every sliver of a happy memory, where no one can take it away from him. That’s why he—months ago, when he most thought Michael was slipping through his hands, he gave him the console piece he found so he could go if he needed to. And now Michael tries to hand another piece back to him again?

“I can’t,” Alex says again, stuck on repeat.

“Hey, hey,” Michael fumbles for Alex’s other hand, and Alex lets him catch it, because with Michael holding him in place he doesn’t feel as cold. “It’s not what you think. I’m not asking you to keep me here, or anywhere, just.”

He swallows. He’s beautiful, in this light most of all. The most beautiful thing Alex has ever seen. Shining in every way, from the golden brushstrokes of his hair to the heart of him, who knew that Alex must never have had much of a holiday and decided to give him one.

Alex wants to kiss him. Wants to swallow whatever words Michael is going to say next and end the conversation there.

“Look.” Michael squeezes his hands. “When my mom—when she died. And after. Everything I worked for, everything I built the console for and devoted my life to, I thought it was over. Useless. But…you told me you were my family. And I know it took me too long to believe it, but I do now.

“I built the console because I was searching for my family. And now that it’s right in front of me, I want you to have a piece of it. Want us to have a piece of it.”

Alex searches Michael’s face, every earnest, open inch, until he can’t stand it anymore, until he drops Michael’s hands in favor of cradling his face, pulling him in, and taking his mouth in a slow, deep, careful kiss, tasting coffee on his tongue, drowning in the coming home of him, of his mouth on Alex’s, the rightness of having him in his arms. Michael responds with enthusiasm, stroking his back with his broad hands, making eager little noises into the kiss, going along with it until Alex pulls away to look at him again.

“You’re unbelievable,” Alex breathes.

“Thought it was the season for believing,” Michael replies, a little smile returning to his face.

“That’s what they tell me,” Alex says, and kisses him again.

--

Michael stays the night, wrapped up in Alex’s blankets, wrapped up in every inch of space Alex has ever thought was empty or cold. He doesn’t even need to set the heater that night, kept plenty warm by Michael’s body all along his back, holding him so close.

They wake up slow in the morning, but Alex earliest, because…

Well, even after everything Michael has done this month and everything he said the previous day, Alex is nervous about Michael’s Christmas present. He needs those extra minutes, watching him sleep peacefully, to steel himself.

But when he watches Michael wake up, sees how the first thing he does is look for Alex so he can smile at him, he isn’t so worried anymore.

They bring the blankets out into the sitting room, bundling up under the tree. Buffy leaves her bed to lie beside them instead, on top of the blankets, effectively pinning them in place, so Michael has to use his powers to get the wood and kindling set and strike a match and get a fire going in the fireplace.

The light flickers like something living off the console shard hanging from one of the uppermost branches. Heart in his throat, Alex pulls the envelope—the same one that held the ornament he got on December 1st—out of his pocket.

“I have something for you, too.”

Michael takes the envelope, eyes locked on Alex’s like he’s waiting for permission to open it. When Alex nods, he slips the tape open carefully, almost reverently. Like Alex, he’s never really gotten a gift before. Not one he thought meant anything. Not one he thought could stay.

He shakes the envelope, and a key falls into his hand.

“It’s to the front door,” Alex says to fill the silence.

Michael’s fist clamps around it with a familiar desperation, like someone might come out of nowhere to snatch it away. He blinks glossy eyes, wet lashes up at Alex, his mouth open, closed, throat bobbing as he swallows. Alex reaches out to stroke his closed fist.

“You’re my family. You’re my home. I don’t ever want to shut you out; I want you to be here. With me. Together. And I think you want that too.”

“Alex,” Michael chokes, and then he’s in Alex’s arms, wrapped around him in a hug.

He stays like that for most of the day, handsy and gentle, reaching out to touch him whenever they’re separated even for a moment. The next day passes much the same—then the next they both have to go back to work, live lives outside of their little holiday bubble.

Alex gets home first. He takes the dog out, gets dinner out of the freezer. Then about an hour later, he hears a car outside, footsteps on the stairs, then, after a minute’s pause, a key slots into the lock.

And Alex knows.

[alitheamateur]

A Taste of Home

Summary: Amelia Calvert is a Boston-born girl returning home after the sur turn of events in her marriage. Her life is turned upside down, leaving her nearly broke, jobless for the most part, and sleeping in the childhood bedroom of her parents home. As if things weren’t shaken up enough for Millie, a familiar face discovers her return to the city, and her world turns to the happiest, most confusing whirlwind of shambles. 

Characters: Chris Evans X OFC

Warnings: Slight age gap (9ish years). Language

Back home. Back to square one. Back like things never changed.

Except everything had. You were returning without a job, no abode of your own, and a nixed husband. It was all supposed to be under wraps, but whispers spread like an unrelenting rash. The bad kind of rash that you never want to have to call an ex about… Your city may be a big one, one supposed to be above and beyond all that small-town “he said, she said” nonsense. But, gossip found it’s place no matter the zip code, and you just happened to be square in the center of it.

You much preferred Boston to the sweltering air of rural Texas, but the things we do for love, huh? Your husbands’ home-base office happened to stand in the city of Austin, and at the time, you would’ve followed him to Tim-buck-too had it been necessary. “At the time” meaning before you found him on all fours, belt loose around the ankles with his paralegal. You’d had her in your home, schmoozing her with expensive wine, and an overpaid caterer because you didn’t want to poison her with your shit concoctions in the kitchen. “At the time” anyway….

Leaving your soon to be ex-husband without so much as a “see you later”, Boston called your name. And for the time being, so did your old room on the upstairs floor of your parent’s house. You chose for a few months at least to believe those clichés about “never being too old to go home.”

Your travel blog hadn’t quite caught on with the public yet, and since your divorce wouldn’t be final for countless days, money was nearly nonexistent. You were separating from a lawyer, too. Meaning a substantial monetary settlement in your favor was highly unlikely.

Thankfully, you always had a place at Calvert’s Cup, your family owned coffee shop just a mere 4 blocks from your childhood home. The familiar solace of the place was comforting, and the warm, fuzzy smell of the house blend soothes your aching, confused heart, as well. Sure, the little downward brows of pity from the nosey morning crowd who’d made it a freaking special ops mission to discover your reason for returning to Boston wore you out. But, there was no stopping them. No way, no how. So, you played on with your best smile, and did your due diligence around the little shop.

 One Tuesday, with the rain pouring outside like the coffee at morning rush, and thunder rumbling against the loose panes of the front window, you ran back to the register once hearing the twinkling of the entry bell. Your line of sight never raised as you greeted the patron approaching your counter.

 “Morning. What can I do for you?”

 A cackling, raspy outburst and the clapping of a heavy set of hands swiped your attention.

 “Hold on a fucking minute.” The yelping announcement from the very familiar male voice instantly made you want to fall into a cave never to see the light of day again.

 You’d know that loud, Boston city charm anywhere. You swiped a loose lock of hair around the curve of your ear, hoping to God your face didn’t appear as heated & humiliated as it felt.

 Chris, the always handsome kid that lived two doors down from you your entire childhood, in the flesh & very much grown up. Of course, you were highly aware since his face frequented any slimy gossip column on the newsstand weekly. The two of you hadn’t been extremely tight knit in the category of friends almost 15 years ago since he’d been a handful of years older. But he was a face you spent many an hour daydreaming about.

 “Amelia Calvert, in the flesh. God, how long’s it been!? What are you doing here?” He smiled, shaking off the mist of rain settling on his coat.

 Yeah, what are you doing here? Let’s hear it. And don’t leave out that part about moving back in with your parents. That’ll be a real smash.

 “I uh... I’m back here now. For good, most likely. Some things have just.... well, changed recently.”

 Before he had time to retort, his pocket chimed. Pulling the telephone culprit loose, he checked the screen and dismissed its interruption.

 “Well, well. How ‘bout that? I’m sure your mom is ecstatic. I know how chipper my mom gets when I’m in town for a break.”

 The valley girl in you wanted to squeal a little. He was unfathomably handsome, decked in a dark shaded baseball cap, and a shirt resembling the same. The beard was new, but inexplicably welcomed.

 He was simply, well, just Chris. The choir boy who made everyone laugh, and whose house the entire school knew had the best parties. You remember him typically strumming a guitar, and starring in the lead role for every drama club production. Not a single person could ever deny his natural born taking to the stage. And all these years later, the stars, and that damn near perfect beard, had fallen perfectly into the place for him.

 You could feel the metal clasp of your diamond earrings warming against the bashful heat of your blush. Here you were, tied into a stained apron, dry-shampoo caked in your fitful hair, smudges of whipped-cream splattered on the glasses you usually never wore in public, standing in front of a literal A-list celebrity. When were the stars supposed to fall into place for you? Those bastards.

“She’s loving it. She and dad both. I did miss the place…”

“What brings you back anyways? Florida, was it?” He questioned cocking a thick eyebrow, endearing little wrinkles appearing above his left eye.

“Texas, actually. Yeah, it was Texas. I guess it was uh, it was just time to hang up my cowboy hat.”

It drew a belly laugh out of him, and he flapped a hand over his stony peck as if to choke back his uproarious reaction. You needed to feel a laugh like that. But instead, as of late, you were only the butt of such laughter.

His incessant mobile buzzed out again, this time in the palm of his hand.

“Hey, a large house blend, please. 2 sugars would be great.” He politely whispered, muffling the speaker of his phone.

Chris moseyed in circles a few feet from the counter, far enough to make your eavesdropping much more challenging as you appeared to innocently make his order to go. He still talked with his hands, boisterously tossing his head about. That had to be the theater upbringing in him. He may live up to his lax, ‘go with the flow’ reputation, but he definitely had a thing for the dramatic, as well.

You sealed the lid tightly on his biodegradable cup, marking his name across the side with your sharpie, and without thinking, dotted the letter “I” in his name with a tiny little heart. Your psyche was clawing it’s way through to the light one way or another.

“God, sorry about that. Agent bullshit, and all that jazz.” He nodded, rolling his extremely bright eyes.

“Living the dream, right? I can only imagine.” An airy giggle escaped you.

His fingers tapped on the counter, the other hand accepting the steamy java you had whipped up. He chewed his lower lip, gnawing back the tiniest traces of a smile, but the crinkles around his nose gave up his jig.

“It’s damn good to see you, Millie.” It was a simple sentiment. Meaningless, really. But, you could feel behind the bold, warm cadence of his voice that he’d meant exactly what he said. It wasn’t one of those things you say to an old acquaintance because you feel like you have to. Chris seemed…genuinely pleased at your unexpected presence. Which caused those same certain warm cadences in your…. areas. Your heart could’ve exploded into a million beating pieces as your nickname fell from his mouth.

Why the hell did he care though? What did your miniscule return to the city matter? There’d been no contact since his golden ticket was stamped, and truly before now, you weren’t sure he would even recognize your plain face in a crowd.

“Well, I’m happy to know that little ol’ me could brighten your day. And that I’m sure that glorious cup of dark roast had nothing to do with it.”

You were rocking fretfully back and forth behind the counter. Your hands fiddled with the loose watch band fastened around your bony wrists. You were fidgeting undoubtably. You were a fidgeter. The soft auburn whiskers sprouted around his sharp jaws made you fidget.

What those jaws would feel like flexing between your thighs…..

“You’re right. I do love the dark roast. Your dad always leaves a bag with my mom around the holidays for me. This cup seems to taste a little better though, I’m not gonna lie.”

Okay. Was he flirting? That was definitely flirting. You were getting a divorce, not dying. But, he didn’t know that. The wretched “D” word news surely hadn’t spread that far, had it?

You let yourself smile, timidly accepting the compliment with apprehension. This guy could have the ass of half of America on a platter had he been that sort of person. Nothing about the saggy, tired circles under your eyes, and your hair tied into a blonde crows-nest at the crown of your head screamed sex appeal in the slightest.

Chris leaned over the counter, fat beads of rain residue still hanging from his coat dolloped on the counter, one catching your finger. You froze in an instant. Your mind already warring whether to suck his slightly chapped lips into your mouth, or faint from the heavenly poison of his scent climbing into your nostrils.

“But don’t tell your dad. Wouldn’t want to ruin my source of supply.” He whispered deep into your ear like he was spilling some undisclosed secret of the CIA. The mans mouth grazed the shell of your ear, goosebumps climbing up your tensed neck.

“Mhmm…” you choked on your tongue trying to clear your throat. “Your uh, your secrets safe with me.”

“Cross your heart?” With one thick brush of a finger, Chris marked an ‘x’ over the now heaving rise of your chest, politely minding not to drag over your breast. The pert of your begging nipple may have made things a bit awkward.

“I’m a fortress.” You gulped, trying to swallow down the unrelenting urge to capture his lips.

He took a long pull of the coffee, never releasing you from his cuffed stares. You didn’t want to look away from his swimming, batting eyes, but something about the way his neck strained with his swallow called for your attention.

“Come to my place, Mills. Tomorrow night, if you don’t have plans?”

Well, your mom would certainly be distraught that you’d miss movie night, but you could probably squeeze in some time for the guy. But, alone? At his place? No one around to hold you accountable for the screaming, near melted center of your body that suddenly ached for him?

Lacking all power of will, you nodded a probably overzealous acceptance, making his mouth open into a pearly-white smile. A movie star smile. Literally.

“I’ll text you the address then! Have a good one. Glad I ran into you, Amelia.” It was as if the light of the room followed him out the door when it closed behind him, and you were left standing in a blissful fog to make some sense of the events of the last 5 minutes.

And what the hell did you have to wear to Captain America’s house? 

*A/N: PLEASE let me know if you’d like to be added, or removed from the taglist*

tags: @miidailyinspiration @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

[maicherry]

1. Name: Britt 2. Age: 30 3. Birth date: May 10 4. Mothers Maiden Name: Dickinson 5. Fathers Last Name: Brannon 7. Height: 5′5 8. Hair Color Now: Brown 9. Real Hair Color: Brown 10. Eye Color: Green 11. List all of your pets, and their names: Herman the ferocious porch beast 12. How long have you lived in the home you are in now? Since 2001 13. How many times have you moved? 2 14. Favorite room in the house: Bedroom 15. Favorite color: Black/Blue/Holographic 16. How many siblings, and what are their names: 2, Georgia/Toshi 17. Do you have a job? Yeh 18. Favorite subject in school: History 19. Favorite food: Spaghetti 20. Favorite salad dressing: Lemon poppyseed or Sweet onion sauce 21. Favorite restaurant: Cracker Barrel, Olive Garden, Carrabbas, Del Taco. Im a simp. 22. City you would like to visit: Idk anymore. 23. Favorite video game: Meh. 24. Favorite TV show: UNSOLVED MYSTERIES. Tales from the Darkside. 25. What is one of your talents: Fucking everything up lmao. 26. Hours per day you spend on the computer on average: All day. 27. Do you resemble anyone in your family? Yeh. 28. Who is your favorite relative? Weird question. 29. What is your favorite band? The Birthday Massacre, Depeche Mode, VNV Nation, Assemblage 23 30. Are you in a relationship? If yes, what is the persons name? Nein 31. Did you fall into the whole Twilight hype? HELL NO lmao 32. What do you think of boys who wear skinny jeans? Whatever 33. What would you call your sense of style/fashion?Comfy casual af. 34. What is your favorite holiday? There are a few. 35. Are your mom and dad still married? Yeah. 36. Do you go to church? My own :) 37. Do you have a car? No. 38. How do you get to school? I dont. 39. What do you think of boys on skateboards? Havent thought about bois on skateboards since I was like..16 sorry. 40. Do you know how to skate? Which type? 41. What is your favorite store? Online. 42. How old do you think you will be when you have children? 000 43. Do you want to get married? No. 44. What is the worst thing you’ve ever drank? Honestly dairy milk. Disgusting and cant imagine drinking it now unless its flavored. 45. What one part on your body do you dislike? All lmao. 46. Do you pick out other peoples flaws? Idk. 47. Have you ever stolen something? Yeah way back in the day. 48. Do you smoke? No. 49. Do you drink? Depends. 50. First crush? Mimisiku from Jungle2Jungle ahaha. 51. What is the make of your phone? Moto 52. Do you own a Tivo? No. 53. Do you own an HDTV? Parents do. 54. Do you own a gaming console? Yeh. 55. What kind of computer do you have? Gaming pc? 56. Do you still color in coloring books? Yeah. 57. Last museum you visited: Some in the Netherlands. Probably this one https://watersnoodmuseum.nl/en/ but visited quite a few. 58. Last place you went on vacation: Netherlands honestly. 59. Are you planning a vacation this year? Idk. 60. Have you ever gone on a vacation that 'you' (not your parents) paid for? Yeh. 61. Have you ever held a snake? Yeah. 62. Have you ever seen an animal give birth? Yeah. 63. Is there something bothering you right this moment? Yep. 64. Something you wish for nearly every day: To be happy. 65. Have you ever gone sky diving? If no, would you? No but I would for sure. 66. Worst injury you ever got: 3rd degree burns from treadmill accident as a child. 67. How long was your last visit to the hospital for? What was it for? Too long ago to remember. 68. Last book you read: Cant remember but Ive ordered a few to read soon. 69. Movie you are dying to see: I dont die to see movies. 70. Do you watch ghost documentaries? Yes. 71. Do you believe in ghosts? Yep. 72. What do you think of Criss Angel? Used to have a huge crush on him lmao. 73. Have you ever seen a house fire? Yeah. 74. Can you still climb a tree? Havent tried in awhile let me go check. 75. As a child did you have a tree fort? No. 76. Ugliest thing a person can do: Harm an animal or anyone whos weaker than they are for any reason other than self defense. 77. Worst habit you have: Thinking the worst. 78. Have you ever looked at stars through a telescope? Yeah. 79. Have you ever seen a shooting star? Yep and I wished for something and got it. But it didnt work out. 80. How about a solar eclipse? Yes. 81. Do you know anyone who claims to do 'spells'? Lol. 82. Do you believe in voodoo? Yes. 83. Have you ever played with an Ouija board? No and I have my reasons. 84. What is your favorite sandwich? Tea sandwiches are the best. Cucumbers, cream, strawberries, flowers. 85. Do you like jello? Yeh. 86. What is your favorite thing that you have in your bedroom? Idk. 87. Last time you donated to charity- what was the cause, and how much did you donate? I dont typically donate to organizations and prefer to donate to specific individuals. I dont trust most charities. 88. Have you ever given money to a homeless person? Yes. 89. What does your mom do for work? Homemaker. 90. What does your dad do for work? Electrician. 91. Has the poor economy effected your family? Yes. 92. Do you own the house you live in, or rent it? My parents own. 93. Have you ever been fired? No. 94. Have you ever babysat for someone? Yes. 95. Do you like the rain? Depends. I love rainy sleep. But not having to be out in it. 96. Last time you went swimming? Awhile ago. 97. Who do you look up to the most? Idk honestly. 98.What are you ashamed of? Various things. 99. Has anyone ever been ashamed of you? Im sure. 100. Favorite teacher? Cant say I have a specific one from actual schooling, as much as the great teachers throughout history that wrote about the subjects Im interested in.

[unholyhelbiglinked]

The Mitchell Incident | Chapter 20

CHECK OUT THE STORY FROM THE START HERE

The crystal shattered into a million pieces, a loud and unforgivable noise rocking through the study, its simple atmosphere breaking along with it. There always seemed to be an orange haze against the mahogany creating strong shadows that stretched close to a maroon carpet, the glass littering wood and fabric.

Beca drew in a long breath, sitting on the corner of the desk. She was propped up, leg folded along half of the table- a glass filled with amber liquid rested halfway to her lips, ice solid and edged as it clinked. She didn't flinch, instead lifting a pointed eyebrow at her mother.

Blair was always known to have a short temper, one that would go off at the most inopportune times. It was almost as if her labored silence was worse than if she would yell. Beca had become used to the outbursts at a young age, always picking up the pieces and sweeping up the glass. This time, she kept her steady stance.

She raised her own glass to her lips, taking a long and stinging gulp of bourbon. Blair's chest heaving as she steadied herself on the large stone mantle. Her jaw was clenched, grey eyes filled with an indescribable anger. "How dare you question my intentions?" She hissed lowly, knowing her daughter could hear her.

"Your intentions are blurred." Beca swallowed back the bitter taste that coated her tongue. She watched her mother with purpose- the usually composed woman was beside herself. Mumbling under her breath as she ran her hands over the top of her pleated pants. Like she had been cut by the shards, and the blood that ran thick wouldn't just leave a residue. She healed, she was able to regenerate faster than a human. There was no need to worry.

The brunette grimaced, setting her own beverage aside. She had lost her craving, staring down at the sprinkled glass that pushed into the plush carpet.

"Do you forget yourself?" Blair said.

Beca raised a brow at this. Had she forgotten her place? Back when they had stronger heartbeats, it was Blair that she feared. Not her father, her father was a pushover, her father would bend to the woman's stare and cave in at the mere mention of discontent. Then she died.

Beca remembered her funeral. It had rained characteristically that day. The air was cold and the soft soil smelled musty and sharp. She had hugged her coat around her frame and stared at the blades of grass that bent under the will of freezing perspiration. She clung to Jesse, her fingers intertwined with his as they listened to the low psalms the priest repeated. It was no use, no one was listening. She remembered feeling guilty that day. Not because her mother had perished, but because of the relief she was met with when she did.

"I don't believe I have," her voice was steady, the sour taste of alcohol still lodged in her throat.

"You turned her."

"No, I saved her."

It almost hurt to say. She had saved Chloe, but she had also doomed her to a life of cold complexity that the young girl couldn't' quite understand just yet. Sure, immortality was shiny at first. It was invigorating and filled with power- but the novelty would wear off in a few centuries when her family grows old and her friends get start having grandchildren. Friends, she can no longer contact because no amount of moisturizer could cover up her unchanged looks.

"By blatantly disobeying me." She drew in a careful breath "what gives you the right?"

Beca couldn't stop the scoff that fell from her lips as simple as a child dropping their sweets in a grocery store. It was left covered in lint or whatever wasn't swept up from the day before. The candy was still there, sure, but it was impossible to recover, not without some type of disease attached and simmering.

"What gives me the right?" Beca stood, setting the glass down carefully on the mahogany table. It was imported, she liked it. There was glass under her feet that crunched as she walked so close to her mother, she could practically taste the blood of her last meal, smell the soil from something more. "You wouldn't be here if it weren't for me."

"I would have found a way."

"Right, and through who? Your little witchy pet Aurum? Because mother I hate to break it to you but she's near useless when it comes to resurrecting the dead." Beca swallowed, trying to even out her anger. "It took me nearly 130 years to get you back and you want to what? Bare your fangs and forget your control?"

Blair studied her. The woman had once brought great fear to Beca but now she looked frail in the fires shattered light. Her cheeks were sunken in and there was dirt under her nails that Beca had a hard time looking past. She swallowed loudly and rolled her shoulders back almost like her blouse didn't' fit correctly. It didn't.

She raised her hand, much like she did when Beca was young, preemptive to strike with an open palm. Beca grasped her wrist a low edge of a growl on her lips. "Chloe is untouched, do you understand me?" She squeezed, applying pressure "So is Jesse, and so am I."

Blair watched with widened grey eyes and Beca dropped the woman's hand and picked her glass back up from the table, tipping her head back and swallowing the alcohol in one fail swoop of the tongue. She walked away from the fire and the woman who had the power to control it, fingers trembling in a dark rush. "Clean up your mess, please."

Beca let the door slam behind her as she pressed her back against the cold mahogany, trying to catch her breath. Maybe it was the dangerous amount of alcohol in her system or the strange leverage of nearly a century on her mother but something pushed her to fight back- to warn her against hurting the newly turned, to protect Chloe Beale of all people.

The flyer had been a pumpkin orange, noticeable and ugly against the brown telephone poles and muddy brick walls that framed Barden. Most of them had left a neon stain behind as the rain and the soon fallen snow washed away the thought of a once prominent problem. Now an ugly orange flyer was blocking the view of her chemistry text.

She recognized that face, that simple and innocent expression that hadn't been done much justice with the schools' printer. It listed his height, and weight, and what he was last seen wearing. A black logo t-shirt that had soaked up the blood better than she expected.

Her throat tightened at the memory as she inhaled sharply and slammed the book shut so she wouldn't have to look at it anymore. It would loud enough to catch a few glares from students trying to focus on studying. Chloe's eyes met icy blue ones.

"Bree?"

The blonde looked hurt, ravished by her own emotion. Chloe hadn't quite learned how to pick up on heartbeats yet or smell emotion like Beca said she would eventually master, but she didn't' need her newfound abilities to see the hurt radiating from her friend. From her roommate.

"She said you weren't dangerous." She whispered harshly, eyes wet "Beca said you wouldn't' hurt anyone. But you are aren’t you?"

Chloe was fast, the librarian glancing narrowing her stare as she abandoned her textbook and bag, standing with a swift edge. Aubrey wanted to fight against her, and she did for the most part, the smaller woman dragging her out of the glass-paned doors and into the nearest bathroom. It reeked of antiseptic and lemon sanitizer. "Get off me! You killed him!"

"Aubrey," Chloe tried to edge her away from fear, gripping her shoulders as she pressed the woman's back against the cold tile, her fingers gripping into fabric. "I need you to stop struggling, I didn't-"

"You did." Her voice was defeated and her words breathless as her chest heaved "It's all they could talk about in my psychology class. About how everyone seemed to forget about Alex. How he vanished in the middle of the night and you-"

Her throat tightened alarmingly as she studied the deep pain of emotion written on Chloe' expression. "It's fucking fuzzy but you killed him. You… you were covered in blood and Beca did something to me. I don't remember." She sobbed still in Chloe's arms as she sunk to the cold bathroom floor, the vampire moved with her. "I don't remember."

She had seen Aubrey like this once, only once.

Chloe had gone home for the holidays three years back, and so had Aubrey. She was an emergency contact and always had been, her phone ringing in the middle of the third Christmas movie. She had excused herself from home and driven in silence to the bar that had called her- the one that was three seconds away from phoning law enforcement.

Aubrey tearfully explained the departure of her father broken down to her on Christmas eve and the way everything hurt, everything. It felt like her blood had boiled and the alcohol put out the flame and if Aubrey Posen had any type of control or seminice it was gone because her whole world was gone. Chloe held her in that bar bathroom too.

"I don't think I can handle this, Chloe." Aubrey sniffed, having quieted as Chloe kept her distance, keeping one hand on the woman's knee to steady her but nothing more. She watched with sullen eyes and a quiet lipped expression. "Y-you're all I have here and you're dead."

"I'm not dead."

"Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that?" Aubrey sniffed "If all of you wasn't lost in that cemetery it was when you murdered a kid in cold blood."

She knew it was harsh, her words stinging like a whip to raw skin on her back. It would leave a gash and would sting to the touch, but it was nothing she didn't deserve. Chloe let out a long sigh and crossed her legs in front of her, facing Aubrey as her hands rested in her lap. They were quiet for a few moments, both listening to the slow drip of the facets.

"I'm never going to be the same person you helped drink out of the water fountain" She started quietly "Or the one you shoved Ryan Heady on the playground for." Aubrey blew out a breath of air at the memory and sniffed, dragging her hand against the base of her nose. "But that doesn't mean I'm gone, Aubrey. I'm not."

Aubrey didn't' say anything.

"I'm going to make mistakes, and some are going to be bigger than others. A lot bigger. But in truth? I don't know if I can do this either. Not without you."