#fell on back burner cause I’ve been busy and going every which way

[starriluneart]

Mui WIP 🌫️ Lineart

[blackwidow-bby]

Never Be The Same- Mafia!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt: Mafia Boss au but y/n kidnaps the mafia boss

Warnings: Cursing, violence, gun mention and gun use, kidnapping

AN: I saw this prompt from a tiktok where someone asked "your favorite trope but reverse" so I did it.

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

It wasn't often that you got anonymous letters sent to you by someone looking for your "services". You had left the spy life years ago with a little help from the Witness Protection Program in order to pursue a much quieter life doing...well currently you were just working as a florist. Before that you cleaned headstones at the towns local graveyard, which was scarily a lot bigger than the town you were in. You had quit that job when you got the first anonymous letter on the steps of the shed where you kept your tools. The thought of someone knowing where you worked, hell, who you were, especially when they shouldn't spooked you more than working in the graveyard around sunset.

The request wasn't for anything serious. A simple adult-napping job of some woman. The stranger who left the note definitely specified that they wanted the target alive. It would have been an easy job with some extra cash to put in your pocket, but instead you jumped ship and quit that day and moved to another apartment complex. You even went so far as to get a P.O. Box instead of using the complex's mail. The threat wasn't that big to get the government involved in relocating you again.

You almost you wish you could go back in time to the early morning before you received the letter by some covered stranger. Your skin turned white when you saw the simple little envelope with your old agent code name; Viper.

Sneaky and deadly, you always knew the perfect moment to strike. Whoever this person was had to have also been an old agent from the same organization you worked for. That was the only way you could explain away the anxiety that boiled in the pit of your stomach. Once was an instance, but twice is a hobby, you decide you'll at least think about taking the job. Opening the envelope, your heart started to pound quickly inside its cage. You can't believe you were about to put yourself in this position after leaving it for so long.

The letter read:

Dear Viper;

It has been many years since the last time I've seen your face, the first time I thought you were a ghost. Certainly after seeing your face again, I knew for sure my mind wasn't fooling me. It is with a heavy heart that I ask for your help. Unfortunately a family member of mine had found themselves in trouble with a mafia member. Unable to keep their end of whatever bargain, the mob killed him. I need you to find the person who did this to my brother and bring them to me completely unharmed. I want them conscious, I want my face to be the last ting they see before I get revenge for a member of my family ceasing to live among those that loved them.

The target's name is Natasha Romanoff. At the bottom I've left a burner number and an address if you do decide to take my offer this time, the payment will be handsomely.

Much Thanks;

Otter

Natasha Romanoff? Sounds mafia enough to you. Gods, what a messed up situation to get into. Would it really be enough to possibly have to change your identity again? What if this person was important to this group and they decided to come after you? You sat in silence thinking for a long time if any of this was really worth it. There was a tiny voice that peeped up in the back of your mind. You had been kinda bored lately, this could be the spice you need to add back an old pep in your step.

It was decided. You'll get to work searching for this person in the morning. Wow, that took so much persuasion.

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

You got started early the next day. Definitely not due to not being able to sleep in the first place. Oh no. Thanks to the nerves building up over putting yourself in a shitty position. Luckily for you though, this Natasha woman wasn't hard to find at all. The mafia she was affiliated with, operated in the city near the town you lived in. They also apparently seemed to operate most of their business out of a simple pet shop. This has to be the inner workings of a screen writer, you thought to yourself.

Your nerves began to get the best of you on your walk back home. It seemed like everyone's eyes were suddenly on you, like they knew exactly what you were up to. You picked up your speed and released a breath you didn't realize you were holding when you saw the steps to your apartment complex. You quickly ran inside up to your floor and slammed the door behind you. Gosh your nerves were starting to annoy you. How did you ever make it as a top agent is beyond you thinking of the position you were currently in. All feelings aside, you pressured n to pack for the trip you'll soon be taking to the city. It was going to be another long night.

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

Your trip to the city was surprisingly smooth. Light traffic. Sun was out. If not for this little mission, if you could call it that, the day would have been perfect to do some sight seeing. You found the "pet shop" just as easy as well. You set up camp on the side of the street in front of the building to see if your target would possibly show up today. You were really hoping this didn't turn into a multi-day stake out. just wanting to get all of this over as quickly as possible so you can go back into hiding again.

It took about 7 hours, well into the late afternoon, before you spotted her walk in. Surprisingly, she was alone. Perfect, time to move in. You got out of your car and casually walked around the side of the business to see if there happened to be a door. The alleyway of the building was dark enough that anyone on the street wouldn't be able to see in. The sound of a creaky metal door could be heard just around the corner. You guess the back will have to do. As you got closer to the sound, you saw the woman in the back of the building talking with a man. You couldn't make out a single word they were saying. Their conversation wasn't important though, only getting her to Otter was.

Your heart began to race as the moment to make your move came closer. This is what you had trained for your whole life. The stealth and ability to make a move without anyone around you knowing until it was too late. Your eyes trained on the red-head in the back of the building. You gave a silent prayer to whoever was listening that the person she was with, would leave her alone for just one second. That's all you needed; one second.

Suddenly, it was as if all of the puzzle pieces fell into place. He left to go back inside. Time slowed down in an instant. You immediately released a breath through your mouth and moved in. You could see every single moment, all of the steps you took right up to behind her. Watching her turn around carefully but never hearing you step up behind her. At the very last second when she had finally caught sight, one hand reached but to grab her arm and pin it behind her back while the other reached around her head with a chloroform rag to incapacitate her.

The hard part was done. The red-haired woman fell limp in your arms, so you maneuvered her into a bridal position to easily carry her to your car. Time was of the essence. Someone would be coming to look for her soon. Swiftly and quietly, you walked back through the alley and reached your car. Knowing you had some time before she woke up, you could stop later to tie her hands and legs once you were farther away from the city. You placed her down in the back seat before getting in the front and driving away. You let out the most dramatic exhale and looked for the letter Otter had given you of his number and location.

One ring

Two rings

So you did take my offer?

Yes, I'm headed to the location now.

Excellent, thank you for your work.

Yeah, whatever.

Click

You drove on for another half an hour before you reached the location. It was an old abandoned warehouse settled 20 minutes in the opposite direction from the city. The sun was completely settled at this point making the surroundings very dark. The sky had an almost purple glow from the towns nearby lights. Getting out, you circled the car to the back passenger door to remove the woman and bring her inside. She was still passed out from the chloroform only stirring slightly as you picked her up.

Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to you, but you don't remember her being this heavy. Trudging the knocked out woman inside, you found a small chair and placed her down. Your timing was sort of off and thought better to tie down her hands and legs now before checking her pockets for any weapons or forms of identification. The woman's head lulled from left to right while you searched. You found a knife on her belt holster, a small revolver tucked in the back of her pants, a wallet, and a set of keys but not car keys. Her eyes started to flutter while you fingered through the wallet. Nothing important, a drivers license, a couple of business cards from the "pet store", and a what looked like a family photo. The people in the photo looked familiar to you, very familiar.

"What are you doing with that?" The woman mumbled in your direction. You looked her in the eye not saying anything. The woman was gorgeous with the single light shining down on her causing an angelic glow upon the crown of her head. Her red tresses seemed to almost burn in your presence. You looked away from her and continued to inspect the photo she kept in her wallet.

"Who are these people with you?"

Her head lulled once more, "Why do you want to know?"

"Answering a question with a question won't help you. What is your affiliation with the mafia?"

"I'm their fucking boss."

In that instance your eyes widened. Of course, that's why the men in the photo looked familiar to you. She was the fucking heir to one of the top mafia rings in the country. This idiot, Otter, wanted you to bring in the living heir and current head hancho for what she did to a simple family member that got caught up in the wrong group. The sweat was beginning to pour now that you realized you were absolutely fucked.

Before you could say anything else, Otter, the man of the hour, busted trough the doors.

"Viper! I knew I could count on you!"

"What the fuck man?! You really had me capture the fucking mafia BOSS?! We're both going to be fucked if you don't explain everything right now, Otter." You were sweating rivers at this point. Utterly frustrated and hot in the warehouse. The red-head was slowly coming to 100% but her eyes still couldn't fully focus.

"Calm down Viper. Your work is done with me. I'll cover everything up and you can go back to your quiet life."

"Over?! If you don't give me a very good reason to leave her here in your possession, I'm taking her with me." you were shouting at this point. The red-head was now staring at the both of you dumbfounded at the whole situation everyone was in.

"She killed my brother!" You swore you could see steam coming off of his head. "She killed him and left him to rot!"

"Your brother was nothing but scum who tried to steal weapons from me to sell for himself." She had responded this time. Otter quickly pulled out a gun from his pocket and aimed it at the woman.

"He would never have done anything to harm his family or himself!"

She didn't falter her glare one single bit, even with a weapon pointed at her head. "He'd be living a healthy fulfilling life had he not crossed me."

He cocked the gun this time. "Shut up you stupid bitch!"

A smirk played on her lips, she was enjoying getting a rise out of him. Like she knew something the both of you didn't know. Like she knew no matter her outcome someone would always be out there searching for both of you for the rest of your lives until you got caught, or god forbid, kill yourselves to keep from being caught. Your nerves were spiking again, you couldn't let Otter kill Natasha Romanoff.

You sucked a quick gasp. Otter didn't notice but Natasha did. You had her gun.

Natasha's eyes darted back and forth between you and Otter. He was getting upset at the fact that her attention wasn't solely on him. The arm that was holding the gun stopped its falter and held up straight to Natasha's face. "Look at me! I want my face to be the last thing you see when I kill you, you stu-"

BANG

Natasha jumped. She had seen the whole thing take place but didn't really expect you to do it. She could see the tremble in in your hands as they stayed in the same spot. Your eyes were wide, lip quivering, you couldn't believe what you had done and now you had a new problem to cover up. Natasha had a look of empathy in her eyes. You didn't want to be in this position from the get go and it had only gotten worse for you.

"Hey, look at me..." Natasha spoke up softly to break your trance. She had leaned her body towards you in a manner to reach out. "You can put the gun down, its going to be okay now." Your eyes darted down to the gun and back up to Natasha's green eyes. Still shaking you slowly lowered the gun to the ground before you walked over to her cautiously. Tears were falling down your face, the weight of the situation was hitting you. If you had never agreed to Otter's request, you would be cozied up in your bed, awaiting another new day.

Your fingers found Natasha's bound wrists. her skin was surprisingly cool to the touch. She stared at your face the whole time you unwrapped her from the chair. The fresh tears leaving clear trails down your slightly dirtied cheeks. The slight glow of your e/c eyes under the florescent lights of the warehouse. You knelt down in front of her to then remove the binding on her ankles. Something within her compelled her to reach out to you. Without even realizing it, the red-heads palm was already resting on your head. She reveled in the silky smooth feel of your h/c locks. The slight dampness from the sweat that had overcome your skin. She could feel the softness of your fingers slowly circling around her last ankle when your sad eyes looked up to hers.

"How did you manage to capture me without anyone seeing you?" Her hand slipped down to your cheek. "In all of my years, I have not once not heard someone creep up behind me the way you did."

The steady stream of tears grew heavier, your quiet life was about to be destroyed by your own need for a change. She would certainly have your feet for getting a one up on her.

"It was my job. I was known for being so light on my toes, no one could hear me coming." your voice wavered, but the words got out.

"Well I could use someone like you by my side." Natasha held out her hand to you as she got up on her feet. Not really having her ground, she nearly fell when you caught her by the waist. The two of you held your breath as you both stared deeply into each others eyes. You could swear if you inhaled, her scent would be enough to drive you mad. "My guys will cover all of this up for you."

You sat and thought about everything she said. The would would probably prove more exciting than working at a flower shop and probably be more fruitful. You smiled at her. You could feel her warm breath near your lips.

"When do I start?"

[pansexualseaanimals]

Chapter 9 Sneak Peeks ‘Cause You Deserve It

Hey guess what? I’m still alive! I haven’t been writing for a while because these past few chapters have kind of been making me face things about my own life that I hadn’t given due time to address and manage (especially Pyxis and Rory’s thoughts on how parents can “love you but not want you”, and stuff said by multiple people in chapter 9, the one I’m still writing) so I kinda just dealt with those thoughts and came to conclusions and stuff in my own mind while I endlessly binged anime and video games. Not that I don’t normally do that, mind you, but I did it a lot more and not much else.

Luckily, I live in a wonderful gorgeous apartment in my favorite town I’ve ever lived in (the only town I’ve ever called home, in fact! At least, in this world!) and it’s super comfortable and I live with my best friend who is way too good of a roommate if I must be frank - I’d rather be Columbia, honestly - and life has been relatively super good, so like. Don’t worry! I’m so happy in my life the way it is! I’m back home in the Midwest, surrounded by beauty and friends who’ve helped me out more than I could ever ask (but I did, let’s not lie lol) and... I still have depression and I’m working on that and planning on getting a doctor soon, but... I’m starting new good habits, getting into things I’ve been wanting to try, and yeah... I’m rambling at this point so I’ll make the rest quick.

I wanted to give sneak peeks because it’s been SO LONG and I don’t know how many people really actually read this thing? Like, “I’m excited that there’s a new chapter” kind of peeps? But no matter how few there are, you guys all deserve something nice, and this was all I could think of. Instead of just posting one scene, I’ll post a few clips from a bunch of scenes. Everything is subject to change as I keep writing, so it might not match the finished product, but... That just means you guys are extra-special! Heehee! ^__^ 

Excerpts are below the read-more cut. Hope it’s enjoyable! 

\/\/\/\/\/

"Oh, I've got twenty-five coins for the sea show clanking in the backseat, whoa-oh. I've got thirty-two seashells lined up in a row..." Caurel happily sang as she covered the turquoise side in pink, pausing and hiding in a corner when she noticed Zebra rising out of the spawn pool. The younger Inkling, hesitant, flung her brush wildly to cover the pink ink and swam forward, repeating the process every few feet. When she dropped down to the valley, she triggered another Ink Mine, this time getting away just quickly enough.

  "Not falling for that again," they sighed... right before Caurel popped out of her corner and slashed her brush at her, sending her floating right back to the spawn point. Unable to keep from giggling, Caurel re-inked the entrance ramp and climbed up to the higher level, brushing quickly down the alley as Zebra respawned again.

  "And I'll swim, swim, swim, to my darling Martha... And let her lay me down in the bay where the warm winds blow~"

  "Are we singing the same song?" Penny shouted from the audience, loud enough to be heard over the stage music.

"'Martha's Bay' by the Seagulls?" Caurel shouted back for confirmation.

"I knew it! Ahhh, I love you!"

"I love you, too, Butterfly!"

"Boooo!" Rocky shouted as he took out Thresher. "Get a room!"

  "But their love for each other is like our love," Ankyr said with a wink.

"You really are a sea turtle."

  "Hey, only Pyxis can call me-" SPLASH! Ankyr fell prey to Bonnet's Heavy Splatling.

"FOR ANKYR!" Rocky jumped up and flung his roller down before rolling toward Bonnet - and getting caught in a freshly thrown Splash Wall.

  "I love it when he does that," Tiger squeaked.

\/\/\/\/\/

"What took you so long? Why did you trade Ankyr for these randos?"

"Rocky," Caurel sighed. "They're the friends we were supposed to meet today, remember?"

"Oh..."

"Guys, this is Rocky, our squad's leader," Pyxis laughed.

  "Nice to meet you," Carina said, stepping forward to shake Rocky's hand. "Don't worry, my 'boyfriend' will be back soon."

  "'BOYFRIEND'?" The entire crowd turned their attention to the charismatic newcomer.

  "It's just an inside joke," Pyxis hastily assured them. "You'd just have to be there."

"Yeah, he kind of saved me a lot of hassle," Carina shrugged.

  "My Sunshine has inside jokes with people I don't know," Moises thought out loud. "Not sure how I feel about this..."

"Well, you know us now," Hans piped up. "She's Carina, I'm Hans, this here is Shera, and the rude guy is Cygnus."

"I haven't said anything rude yet!"

"We all know you will," Shera said as she scooched over to Abbey. "So, what's your name?"

"I'm aromantic," Abbey said between sips of coffee. Their friends howled with laughter in the background.

"Aw, that's too bad... Are you... asexual, too?"

"They're not sex-repulsed, if that's what you mean," Pyxis jumped in. "That's not what asexual means, though."

"Sweet little Pyxis," Cygnus chuckled, patting his friend on the head. "Always here to educate her friends."

"...You mean their friends," Rocky corrected.

  "What? No. You too? Are all Squids okay with the whole fluid-gender thing?"

"You didn't even last five minutes," Hans sighed, covering his face with his palm.

  "Look, she was born with lady-parts, am I wrong or am I right?"

"Here's what I know," Rocky began slowly, stepping closer to the Octoling and staring him in the eye. "This particular group of friends respects what people choose to call themselves. When you're with us, you refer to Pyxis as they/them. If you can't handle that, you can swim back home."

"ROCKY!" Caurel grabbed her brother's arm and yanked him down to sit beside her. "They're our guests!"

"And Pyxis is family," he bit back. "Which is more important to you?"

"Wow, they really worship you around here," Cygnus laughed, turning to leave. "Do they even really know you? Your history? What have you been telling them?"

"Cygnus, get back here and act your age," Carina commanded.

"No thanks, Your Majesty."

  The crowd was hushed for some time, the noises of the audience around them and the battle down below, permeating their silent space.

  "Sorry about that," Carina finally spoke up. "I told him to behave himself. But he's... how do you say... stuck in his ways."

"He's only twenty-two," Shera rolled her eyes. "He's just a stubborn pufferfish."

"You okay, honey?" Hans asked Pyxis, who was too busy processing their own thoughts to realize they should answer.

"...I'm family?"

\/\/\/\/\/

And now, here’s Shera going goo-goo over more Inklings

---

“Vanilla? Is that a brand, or...?"

"Oh no, I just mean, the original one."

"So... Vanilla means original?"

"The basic form of something, yes. Regular. It's just slang."

"Who's the person with the gatling?"

"Ah, that's Pixie with the Zink Mini Splatling. Disruptor and Bubbler."

"Pixie..." Shera turned to where Pyxis was seated. "PIXIE!"

  "Yes?"

"I can never call you Pixie again! That's the name of my new future wife!" Ecto and Thresher couldn't help but laugh.

"...Glad to hear it?"

"She's actually dating Ty right now," Tandy pointed out. "Sorry, you'll have to look elsewhere."

"Darn."

"Great Overseer," Carina sighed. "Why are you so thirsty today?"

"I dunno, Queenie," Shera shrugged and shook her head. "Look. I had no idea Squidlings could be so attractive, okay?"

"I mean, she's not wrong," Hans laughed. "The first time I saw Ankyr..."

"YOU CAN DO IT, GUYS!" Pyxis suddenly stood up and cheered as loud as they could.

\/\/\/\/\/

And now for some good parents! Specifically, Ecto’s dads. Well, one of them. The other is busy playing Pokémon with Caurel and co. in the living room at this moment. They haven’t been mentioned much so far, but they’re great friends with the Waters (Waters’? Waterss?) ever since all the families met, and Rocky and Caurel hang out with them a lot.

---

"That's because you can look back on the past, apply your knowledge of the present, and cook up a better future for yourself. A new happiness. Again, one that won't last forever. And maybe it's not perfect. Maybe you burn your tongue. Maybe you let it go cold without realizing. But there'll always be more soup."

"You just have an answer for everything, don't you?" Rocky scoffed, throwing more tomatoes into the pot.

  "Not quite. There's one thing I've always wondered."

"The secret of life?"

"Nah, figured that out in college."

"What? No. Shut up." The two shared a laugh. Mister Plasma reduced the burner's heat and placed a lid on the pot, before turning to Rocky.

  "Back when you were in Coral Reef's boat... Why didn't you say anything?"

  "Well..." Rocky took a moment to continue. "Figured there wasn't any point, I guess. Can't help it if the person you have a crush on is gay. Like, if Pop was het, you wouldn't have the love of your life."

"Well I'm glad that's not the case," he said with a short laugh, before frowning and patting Rocky on the head. "Sorry, hon."

"It's fine. That's one of those 'just move on' parts in life. So I did."

"Ah..."

"Happened with Ankyr, too. But that was back when we were super tiny. Like.. That's a different kind of love. Baby love, I guess. But then again, we thought Ankyr was a girl back then. That was easier to move on from."

  "You just can't catch a break," Dad laughed. "Anyone on your mind these days?" Rocky thought a while before answering.

"I... Not really. I don't know, Oji. Guess I'm kind of giving up for now. I just wanna cook and take care of the ocean. Those are my loves. Well, I'll never get tired of Turf War either. I guess... that's it."

"And that's A-okay," the adult Inkling nodded, before yelling "COME AND GET IT!" There was a multitude of shuffling sounds from the living room as the young adults made their way to the kitchen. "Come see us any time," he said again. "We'll always be here for you."

\/\/\/\/\/

And that’s all I have for you here today, I wanna stop myself before I give away more than I might have given away... But yeah, working on that slowly but surely now. I was already about halfway-ish done with the chapter before I fell off, I think? Depends if I think of adding any more scenes than what’s already planned. So, look forward to that soon! Catch you on the flip side~

P.S.: As a reminder, this is the second-to-last chapter I’m writing; after 10 is over, we’ll be moving on to the second book in the series, which will hopefully have much better pacing and will definitely be a lot different, but still be about the lives of Pyxis, Ankyr, and their loved ones - that will never change. Some of your favorite characters might not be around as much in book 2, some might get a spotlight where they hadn’t before, and of course we’ll meet lots of new friends, and you’ll just have to decide what you think of each of them. :3 But I hope you have fun. Regardless of anything, thanks for reading. If you’ve read any of Look Alive, Sunshine, you have my Heart Containers, and my eternal gratitude. Please let me know what you think, if you’ve got the time. Love & hugs!

[hank-mcdankblade]

I Know A Bottom When I See One Princess (Part 3)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary

Chapter 1: You and Dean have been pals for as long as you can remember, practically raised together. Are things still the same as you remembered when you reconnect with him after a couple years apart? Well there is one thing you see differently and you’re about to call him out on it.

Chapter 2:  After you flirt back with Dean you start to rethink all of your life choices. Why did you flirt back instead of making fun of him? God it would be so much easier if you were just a genderless blob. Hopefully the new supernatural case a friend of your mom’s gives you will distract you from all this romance mumbo jumbo.

Chapter 3: You and Dean both start to realize your feelings are not what you both originally anticipated them to be. If only you two could actually talk like adults instead of bantering like childish 8 year olds. The case picks up when you see a certain someone’s name over every case, a certain boomer’s name.

Chapter 4: You and Dean do some sleuthing into Chrissy’s apparent death. After learning the truth your trip to Wendy’s/Jack in the Box gets interrupted by Chief douchebag. Rick takes the three of you on a nice drive to the mountains to introduce you to his daughter.

Word Count: 5,041

Warnings: Many, Many swear, Dean being a little shit, pg-13 thoughts from a certain green eyed hunter.

  ______________________________________________________________________

      The car was quiet. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you were the cause of it. You reminded yourself that there were a million other reasons as to why the drive was silent. Hell there were hours spent in this car with nothing but the sound of guitars and dig of the tire against the road as background noise. All you needed was each other’s company and nothing more. The rational part of your mind was scolding you to shut the hell up about it and stop worrying, pointing out multiple pieces of evidence disproving your original theory. Meanwhile your much less rational side disagreed. She was a bit of a dumb bitch, but very persuasive. It was practically her superpower to ignore all the facts and blindly believe in her opinions.

        “Hey, sorry about springing the whole relationship thing on you. Just thought it’d be easier to fly under the radar as a couple….” You clenched your hands and wrung them together. Your eyes glanced at Dean to your left, quietly gauging his reaction. 

       “Don’t apologize, it’s ok. It was quick thinking. And who knows how suspicious detective douche would’ve been if you hadn’t.” Dean only took his eyes off the road for a moment to look over at you, lying through his damn teeth.

       “True…guess Jen was right about the cops being jumpy here.” Finally, with that off your conscience you could relax into the leather seats with ease. Things were fine. You were just putting way too much thought into this flirting with Dean thing. It was just how your relationship with him was and everything was ok. 

       You were fairing much better than Dean though. Dean’s grip on the steering wheel could be described as vice-like. The insides of his fingertips could feel the stitches in the fabric of the wheel. It felt like he had cotton shoved into his head, there was only one thing consuming his thoughts. Was he really interested in having you the way you spoke of the other night? Bent over and vulnerable while you took advantage of him? Thank god that his right foot was preoccupied with the gas pedal or his entire leg would be bouncing. 

        To you his face looked stoic, and void of emotion. Dean’s eyes were painted with a foggy filter. Mentally he was miles away from the Impala. Every couple of minutes or so he would come back and hyper focus on a different part of the reality in front of him. Dean sometimes focused on the way his joints bent or how his skin felt, and other times focused on how you were too close to him and too far away at the same time. Dean’s hand was shaking, aching to have it on your leg, give you a good squeeze or anything just something to feel you and your skin on him. He wanted to feel your firm grip on him, on his legs, his hands, around his throat. He wanted so badly for your hips to be driving his into the mattress, coming up and down bouncing on his cock until he came closer and closer…

        “Ready to head in and get some info.?” Your delicate voice slowly reintroduced him to the present. Dean looked in front of him and saw a beige building that looked like it was built in the 60s and was never remodeled since. The black letters on the brick wall by the front door read, ‘Grand Mesa County Libraries Central Library.’ His body was slowly returning to its normal temperature as he stepped out of the car. 

        “Yeah, let’s do it.” Getting back on track Dean prepared himself for the first step in every hunting trip you two took, do some re-con and get info about the case. He was gonna have to put his thoughts of you on the back burner for now, which was easier said than done. Once you passed the threshold, the smell of old carpet and moth balls slapped you in the face. It was a nostalgic potent smell that reminded you of your kindergarten years and would haunt you for the rest of your life. Looking around, the place did not seem too busy. There were a few people scattered across the building casually mulling through books and movies to check out.

        “Wanna check the newspapers and I’ll look into local lore?” You two nodded to each other and went your separate ways diving deep into yellowed paper and books with broken spines. Soon enough you could no longer hear the soft thumps of Dean’s boots.

        After scanning the isles you checked out a couple books and started a nest by the computers. The first thing you knew you had to check out was the case at hand. You tapped away at the very out of date computer keyboard.

        Disappearances Grand Mesa National Forest

        There were about a thousand hits online for disappearances. The hard part would be finding information from a reliable source. The first few minutes into researching changed your posture as your spine straightened up and mind shifted into its case-mode. Everything in the world went blurry except for the books and screen in front of you.

~~~~

        ‘Newspapers…newspapers.’ Dean’s fingertips brushed over the tops of age softened newspapers. Once you spend months in different libraries you tend to pick up what their usual lay out was, so the newspapers were an easy find. Thankfully instead of having to search through the records by hand, this library had a computer to search key words in to find articles. If Dean ever went to hell, he was sure that being forced to dig through newspapers by hand would be his torture. 

        ‘Newly-Wed couple from Illinois vanished without a trace. Last seen in Grand Mesa National Forest.’

        ‘Scouts No Longer Holding Summer Camp in Grand Mesa National Forest After Four Scouts Lost to the Curse.’

        ‘The Grand Mesa Curse strikes again with the disappearance of a family of three.’

        Seeing the pictures from the crime scenes made things real. Of course Dean knew the hidden reality that the supernatural world truly was, but sometimes it was easy to forget. It was easy to forget that there was true evil in this world, that there was evil more than just a greedy billionaire or corrupt politician, but pure evil that only sought to drag as many souls to hell as possible. There were so many families that had their loved ones ripped from them without a reason, completely unknowing of the darkness that lurked so closely to them. They would be driven mad with the lack of ‘logical’ facts in their eyes, cursed to never know what really happened and given answers that felt bitter to the taste. Others had their eyes opened unwillingly, shown what was behind the curtain before they could even sputter out an answer. Dean wondered what he would’ve chosen had he been given the choice. Would he rather know what killed his mother and spent his life fearing those that hid behind human faces? Or would he rather go on with his normal apple pie life never finding closure in the death of his mother? Neither option had more pros or cons than the other. He could spend a lifetime mulling the answer over and never find one that felt fight.

        “Excuse me, are you looking for something in specific? You look a little lost…” Dean turned his attention upwards and saw a young librarian. She looked like she was probably a couple years older than him, a native here for sure.

       “Huh?” Dean blinked a few times before really processing what she said to him while he was on autopilot. “Oh, no. I’m alright but thanks.” Dean offered her a smile before going back to flipping through the stacks of old newspapers. 

        The librarian nodded before looking at what headlines he was choosing. She raised a brow as assumptions about who this mysterious man was filled her head. “Interested in the Grand Mesa Curse huh?” Now there was something useful that he needed. 

        “Uh…yeah. Somethin’ like that. Know anything about it?” Dean leaned his arms on the newspaper stand. Any info you two could get would make this whole operation go smoother. 

       The woman let out a short breath of a laugh and shook her head. “It’d be impossible to live around here and not know about it. Around this time of year nobody really goes up into those woods, and especially near the mine shafts.” She paused for a beat and then continued. “My name’s Shan by the way.” Shan looked at Dean with an eagerness in her eyes. The gesture fell on deaf ears and Dean simply smiled back at her.

       “Dean.” He held out his hand to hers, and gave her a firm shake. “Well, I’ve got all I need for now.”

       “Feel free to call me if you need anything.”

        “Will do, thanks.” What a nice lady. 

~~~~

        After collecting a handful of articles from different newspapers, Dean headed back to you ready to get down to business. You were hunched over a loud keyboard like a goblin, typing away all the notes you were compiling for future use. There were probably about 15 tabs open on one browser and 17 pages from various books that had been dog eared. From the looks of it, Dean could tell you were already on a roll. Not wanting to disturb you, he silently pulled out a chair next to you and started to flip through and score the articles he had. 

        About an hour later you two felt confident enough in your information to start piecing something together. 

       “Hey.” An unfamiliar voice interrupted your work process forcing you out of your thought bubble. When you looked up you saw what you assumed was a librarian who worked here looking right at Dean with some form of recognition lighting up her features. “Thought I’d check in to see how you were doing with the Grand Mesa Curse.” There was something in the tone of this girl’s voice that really put you off. Instinctively you tried not to reveal your true thoughts with your facial expressions. There was nothing on her, or within her, that was tripping up your Slayer signal, so she definitely was not a monster. Regardless, something was feeling weird as you looked between the two of them.

       “Pretty good actually, just getting some basic information.” The two of them chatted for a bit before the girl eventually left to actually do her job. Ok there was a possibility that you were being harsh, but this girl was interrupting your research session so regardless she’s being a bother. Human or not.

       Ok…

                Deep breath….

       You took a moment to restart yourself in a sense. She was human, and she wasn’t even at your table for too long so why were you so on edge around her?

        Next to you, Dean felt something in the air shift and looked over to you. Your eyes were still glued to the computer screen but your vibe felt different, more ridged, and that worried him. Still looking at you, Dean nudged you with his elbow.

        “Hmm?” You hummed, still focused on your research.

       “You ok? You seem…upset.” Damn him for knowing you so well. Hunting together had given him the skill to pick up on all your tells. You didn’t know whether this was a blessing or a curse.

        “What? No I’m ok.” You spared him a moment of your attention before returning to work. Dean slowly narrowed his eyes at you. The slightly higher pitched bubbly-ness in your voice was not genuine. You were lying, but he wasn’t going to press you on it in such a public place. 

        The moments drew longer and blurred together as you two eventually got back into the swing of things, but there was something that caught your attention as the hour flew by. It happened every fifteen or so minutes when you would catch a glimpse of that girl that talked to Dean. She would linger by the book stands and rearrange the books there, giving herself an excuse to look at Dean while she ‘worked.’ With each time she stalked near, her act became less and less convincing and it was starting to tick you off. You had work to do and she couldn’t take the hint with the piles of books you two had. Not to mention how little Dean seemed to pay attention to her advances. If she was a monster, she was a very poor one at that, but if she was a human then you had an idea of what she was after. Either option made you want to pull Dean’s chair closer to you, look over his shoulder to see what he was working on even though you already knew. A burning feeling started to ignite with every trip she made past your table. 

        Annoying woman aside, you two had found some important information. The history of the Grand Mesa National Forest was pretty plain. The forest was created by President Benjamin Harrison in 1892. No amount of digging brought up any supernatural affiliation. No massacres of any kind, no Native American burials, and no cults made that forest their home either. So this meant no large scale hauntings, which honestly relieved you. This narrowed the field down. Looking over articles from books and online and newspapers brought to light what was commonly known here as the “Grand Mesa Curse.” 

        It started about two decades ago when a group of college kids traveled up into the mountains for Christmas break. According to their parents they only planned on staying for a couple of days. Things took a turn for the worse when it had been three days after the kids were supposed to be home and no one heard from them. Entire search parties of police officers, family and friends, and many other volunteers combed the forest the best that they could. No bodies were found but their campsite was destroyed and barren. The press and police chalked this up to be the fault of the bears that roamed around, and the same was happening with the most recent case. Luckily this time around there was one girl who survived the attacks, Chrissy Hamilton. 

        There had been a couple cases before this particular one as well that dealt with bear attacks and missing people, but the thing that made it stand out was that the disappearances grew in number afterwards. They were all around the same time and similar location. Something that caught your eye immediately was that a girl from the group of college kids had the same last name as the sheriff you and Dean saw. 

        Lydia Sullivan, daughter of Rick Sullivan, went missing two decades ago and was never found. Her mother, Emily Sullivan, passed away soon after not being able to handle the death of her child. “Ok so if his daughter got merked, why is Sullivan Chief of Douchebags so lax with all these cases? You’d think he’d take his time.” Your tone of voice was low and gravely coming out slowly. That ass hole’s name was popping up everywhere. Rick Sullivan oversaw every single disappearance case in the Grand Mesa National Forest district since his daughter went missing. The man was seen as a determined father that wanted to keep Colorado’s kids safe. He may not have worked every case personally, but the records stated that he went over the paperwork and guided his officers. 

        “Maybe he’s luring kids into the forest? What purpose would he have to cover all of this up though if he wasn’t involved?” Dean leaned his forearm on the back of your chair to get a closer look at what you had. 

        “Doubt it, on all their suspect lists they show alibis too and his checks out. So that means that all of this is coincidental. He could be overseeing every case because he feels guilty for letting his daughter down?” 

        “Like a coping mechanism?” Dean sat back in his chair, eyes focused on a blank part of a wall as he tried to process everything. 

        You nodded. “Yeah, those things that normal people have.” You gave Dean a smirk knowing full well that both of your coping mechanisms included heavy amounts of alcohol and repression. Dean rolled his eyes at you with a smile that mirrored yours, remembering all the countless nights where you two would stay up far too late with a bottle of whiskey. Many times at the end of those nights the thoughts and pictures that kept you up at night would tumble out from your mouths. Subconsciously the space between you two would shrink, physically and emotionally. Dean could count on his left hand how many people he trusted and felt safe enough around to be vulnerable with. After all the shit you’d been through and years you’ve known each other, if he didn’t trust you he would never trust anyone. 

        “Hey, me again. Wanted to let you know that I found a couple of stragglers for the paper you two are putting together.” Jesus Christ this librarian really couldn’t see a moment when it was right in front of her could she? You had had enough of this girl’s talking. You thin string of will power snapped and opened up the lines from your direct thoughts to your mouth.

        “Why are you here?” Your eyes narrowed. Dean was taken aback. He had seen you lose your temper before, but only on those who truly deserved it. I.E. bar assholes, clowns/mimes, and religious nuts trying to convert you. This wasn’t the usual anger he was used to seeing before you knocked someone out, it was a silent subtle kind that would creep up on you if you didn’t watch for the signals. He was seeing all of them in slow motion. 

         Your jaw was clenched, no doubt thinking of biting her head off if she didn’t scamper off back to the corner she came from. What was usually a smile was replaced with a thin line that showed no welcome. But the thing that scared him the most was your eyes, cold and distant. Those eyes had never been directed him, eyes void of compassion. 

        Shan flinched just the slightest, brows pulled together not expecting such a reaction. “Uh-um, I’m here to help. It’s kind of my job.” She bit back at the end of her sentence, though her stare was not nearly as intimidating as yours. When she talked to Dean earlier she assumed that the two of you were merely classmates or just friends, but she had a bad feeling that she barked up the wrong tree. Your aura seemed dangerous, like a crazy jealous girlfriend. 

        “It’s your job to creep around the patrons and watch them from afar while you pretend to do your job?” One brow was quirked as you leaned back with your knees open and arms crossed. The attitude you were throwing was one that would rival middle schoolers and mothers looking to talk to the manager. It was very out of character for you to be petty, it always made you feel sick afterwards.

        Shan narrowed her eyes back, cheeks flushing a deep red. “Excuse me-”

        “Listen sweetheart, my boyfriend and I have a lot of work to do and you’re being a bother. So how about you get back to your real job and stop making googly eyes at my partner huh?” Your bite was sharp as a knife, cutting deep into Shan’s emotions. She took one look at Dean, who was currently preoccupied with staring at you, and quickly scampered off. You shut your eyes and opened them with only one goal in mind. The faster you knew about this case, the faster you could get the hell out of this library.

        Those thoughts that Dean were having to put on the back burner suddenly moved to the front. “So…..was she somehow endangering our hunt that you had to cover for us again?” The smug bastard was referencing what you did because of Detective Sullivan.

        “Yes. She was endangering our efficiency.” Your fingertips flipped through a book closest to you, anything to not look at Dean. In the tone of his voice you knew he was pleased. 

        Dean was more than pleased, albeit a little confused about his feelings but pleased nonetheless. He loved hearing the commanding tone of your voice, telling some other girl to back off of him. Telling that girl to back off because he was yours. A needle pricked at the back of Dean’s mind as he replayed the rollercoaster of emotions he felt. He liked that moment. He liked your tone of voice, but why? It was because of the insinuations he could make. You wanted him. You wanted him to yourself, there was a possessiveness to what you said and how you said it. It was dominant and commanding. 

        No. Dean liked it because it meant you wanted him. He was not a bottom, and he did not like that interaction because you were possessive and domineering. 

        ……

        “Mmmhhmmmm,” Dean hummed, his inflection rising up and then down. Now it was his turn to lean back into his chair. His perfect lips were pursed with a small smirk, one brow quirked with intrigue. “You sure someone wasn’t jealous of a pretty lady giving me attention?”

        “Sorry but the only pretty lady I see in this library is me,” Your voice attempted to make you seem preoccupied with cleaning up your space. Your fingers moved a lightning speed as you emailed yourself all the notes you had taken and shut down all the programs you had opened. “So I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your facial features moved in a comical way depicting a dramatic expression of confusion, with a hand on your hip. The table was finally free of all your possessions, the last notebook was zipped up into your backpack.

        Dean had you right where he wanted you, embarrassed and caught. He knew you would dodge and change the subject as quickly as you could if confronted with a topic you didn’t like. “I’m gonna remind you of this!” He shouted to you with his hands cupped around his mouth.

        You were already speeding off to the car, desperate to run away from this conversation and what it could come to. If anyone was going to be in control of a situation, it was going to be you and you’d fight anyone and everyone for that control with your bare hands. 

        “I’ll forget it!” You yelled back at him over your shoulder, bleaching your mind of any itchy feelings you were experiencing. 

        “Constantly!” Dean yelled back, only to receive the bird from you. He laughed and tumbled after you, happy to finally have some new material to ruin your day with. 

~~~~

        After five minutes of Dean looking like the cat who got the cream, white all over his smug stupid whiskers, you arrived at a locally owned diner. If you rolled your eyes anymore you were certain that you would go blind, and yet it would still be worth it just to let Dean know that you were mildly inconvenienced by his existence. The hum of the impala came to a soft halt. With the combination of Dean teasing you and your hunger, you may have strangled someone if you didn’t get fries in you soon. 

        A bell attached to the door rang out once you two stepped foot inside. Only the waitress on staff bothered to look up from her post behind a counter, the other employees were too engrossed in just making it through another eight hour shift without losing their minds.

        “Seat yourself wherever you like, I’ll be with you in a second!” She flashed a bright smile before dipping into the back of the kitchen. You and Dean nodded before following her directions and finding the corner booth in the back, cause that’s where all the cool kids sit. And with you two sitting there, only the coolest of kids sat there. 

        Dean leaned his chin on his hand and gazed at you. “So do you wanna talk more about how you secretly have a crush on me?”

        “No.”

        “Maybe about how you were totally going to duel that hot librarian for my hand?”

        “Rot in hell.”

        “Oh! Oh! Maybe we can discuss your feelings on a certain other topic that’s definitely unrelated.”

        Your unamused eyes continued to look at him, giving him no response hoping that he’d take the FUCKING hint. “Oh yeah? And what topic would that be?”

        “Me, and my cute face.” Dean winked and did his signature blue steel look. With a loud bang you hit your head on the table, laying your arms on the table around your head limp.

        “Deaaannn, I swear to god I will strangle you until the last breath from your lung is used.”

        “So what you’re saying is that you want your hands on me? You want to touch me?” Dean leaned closer and dropped his voice as low as he could go with every word that came out of his mouth just egging you on to do something. “You wanna put your hands all over my body?” 

        You whipped your head up, eyes wild and craving revenge, and you were just about to open your mouth and verbally destroy this stupid boy’s whole career when your waitress popped herself in front of the table. 

        “Hi! I’m Audrey, and I’ll be taking care you guys tonight. Have you been here before?” She had the whole speech memorized and recited it off as she handed you both a menu. 

        “Why no we haven’t! Darling aren’t you so excited to be here?” Dean grabbed your hand across the table affectionately with a huge fake smile. The weird vibe Audrey got from this table was throwing her off but regardless she had a job to do. 

        ‘Some of us will never eat again…’ You thought to yourself, thinking of all the places you could stab Dean with a fork. 

        “Thrilled.” You stated, pointedly glaring at Dean and his boyish charm getting the best of you. Audrey smiled to herself and started to understand what was going on and dismissed her earlier thoughts. After getting you two started with drinks she left you to look over the food options. 

        “Can I guess what you’re gonna get?”

        “As long as I get serve you cyanide afterwards.” 

        Dean settled into the booth and looked off into the distance to pretend to think very hard. “You are gonna get a cheeseburger with everything on it, as rare as they serve it. Side of fries and a large lemonade because even at age 23, you’re still an 8 year old.” 

        Damnit he was right. 

        You shared Dean’s smug look, ready to dish back what you were served. “Ok fine, you’re going to get the most overloaded bacon burger in order to cash in on that heart attack you’ve been waiting for forever, but hold all the vegetables because we want this one to be a big one. Side of fries and a shitty great value coke.”

        Dean nodded slightly and clapped quietly for you. “Right you are.” A moment was spent in silence, just the two of you laughing at each other smiling like love struck idiots. Your eyes tore away first, landing on a newspaper that was from today. The headline was the real reason you decided to pick it up.

        Local Crazy Believes Creature of the Night Kills Friend

        You flipped through the pages to find the story. It was published today and showed a picture of your sole survivor, Chrissy Hamilton.

        In a sad attempt to get some attention, Chrissy Hamilton offers her break out story. 

        “It was like my friends’ voices were coming from two different directions!”

       “This thing was too fast to see…”

       Clearly this is just another example of our country’s failed mental health system…

        “I wouldn’t spend too much time reading that malarkey…” Audrey said with her eyebrows pulled together, eyes cast down as she refilled your water glasses. 

        “Do you know her?” You asked, laying the paper flat on the table for Dean to see too.

        Audrey sighed as she stood back up, water pitcher straining her left wrist. “She’s my best friend. I’m not sure what really happened up there, but the newspaper doesn’t have to ruin her reputation like this and publish a drag story.” Her jaw clenched at the mention of the newspaper.

        “Does she have any enemies at the newspaper, maybe that would want to defame her?” Dean spoke up. Audrey eyed Dean caught up in her own thoughts.

        “We’re trying to run a counter story to get the Denver Times to redact the article.” You butted in, if this girl was going to give you anything it had to seem like she wasn’t gossiping with customers but giving info to fellow truth seekers. 

        Audrey pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “No, but the police chief doesn’t seem to like her. I don’t have any evidence to back it up, but I’m pretty sure he went to the head news correspondent and told him to run the article.” As more information poured in, the two of you couldn’t seem to figure out what the hell this cop’s problem was. He seemed to do everything in his power to derail this investigation, the dude was definitely hiding something. 

        “You’re pretty sure?”

        “Yeah…they’re drinking buddies so it wouldn’t surprise me.” Audrey’s attention was pulled away when the bell at the front door rang again. “If you guys have any more questions I can answer them after my shift.” 

        You and Dean shared a look. “The same voice coming from two different directions and super fast? I think I have an idea of what we’re looking for…”

        “Can we please talk to that Hamilton lady first, I’d very much like to drag this out before I freeze my balls off…”

_______________________________________________________________________

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[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

two years too late, chapter f o u r t e e n 

You’d pulled your hat low over your face, sunglasses pressed up to your cheeks to ensure some level of privacy. You’d been recognized three times already--which was definitely a new record for the same 24 time span. 

“Jesus,” Jake laughed when the third girl walked away. “Used to think we’d only have to deal with one famous friend.”

You pushed away from him, skates gliding on the clean ice in Central Park. It’d been a hike and a half up to the Northeast corner in the first place, and now all you wanted was to skate in peace. 

“M’sorry--I wish I could make it not happen.” A beat of silence when none of them responded. “Yknow, that’s why I didn’t want to tell anyone at work about me and Harry being friends. I work in a field where it’s my job to talk about celebrities. I didn’t want to have to do it on my lunch break, too.”

You wouldn’t have been so straightforward with them if Harry had tagged along. He blamed his absence on a last minute meeting, but it offered a breath of fresh air and some space to actually breathe it. 

“I get it,” Bryn said, skating to catch up with you in front of the others. Jessie clung to the wall with Adam, Jake tried his best to not skate circles around all of you. 

“You do?”

“I do,” she nodded, linking her arm in yours. “Some of my coworkers know and they’ve been all over me trying to get tickets for the tour. I don’t tell Harry that, though--he’d feel obligated to hand ‘em over.”

“Exactly. I just didn’t want to deal with it.”

“It can be kind of cool, you know. I told my boss about it and he let me take a day off from work once without even using PTO cause Harry was in town,” Adam’s mouth was stretched into a silly smile. 

“Your boss is a wanker,” Jessie said. “And apparently he’s a pushover too.”

“He is both of those things, yes,” Adam laughed. 

Jake slowed down to fall back into the group. “So Smalls, what are you going to do about the interview?”

Another groan from your lips, two little boys skated past you, pushing against each other’s big winter coats to beat the other to the exit. “Nothing. Maybe just not do it.”

“Oh shut up,” Jessie said. “You have to.”

“I know,” you sighed. “S’the biggest story I’ve gotten. And it’s not that I totally don’t want people to know I knew him--it’s more that my boss will be livid when she finds out I’ve lied to her all this time.”

“You can’t give it to someone else?” Bryn’s head tilted to the side, Jake’s eyebrows went north. 

“S’an idea. Have a coworker who could take it on? You could fake pneumonia. Be out of commission for a week or two.”

“Might as well,” you laughed.

“Y’know, Smalls,” Adam offered a sympathetic look. “He was pretty upset last night.”

“He was? About what?”

“That you downplayed everything so much.”

“Alright, maybe s’not the time,” Jessie tried to defuse the situation, as if Adam’s words didn’t strike up curiosity in your bones. 

“What do you mean?”

“He really likes you,” Adam said. “I think he’s sad it didn’t work.”

“Okay,” you spun around to face him, stopping dead in your icy tracks. “He was dating someone else at first--and he didn’t tell me. I had to see photos of them online and confront him!”

“He should have told you,” Jake said, now skating backwards around Bryn. “But he really only saw her to end it. He told me.”

Bryn let out a short laugh. “And you believe him?” 

“You don’t?” Adam shot back.

“I dunno,” she said. “I mean, why wouldn’t he have just told her if he ended it? S’not a big deal that he was seeing someone. It happens!”

You held up a hand, hoping to silence them without having to get loud. “S’between me and him, alright? I appreciate the concern for both of us,” you shot Adam a pointed look, “but s’fine.”

“We’ve been trying to trust the two of you to figure it out for a decade, Y/N,” Jessie let out a breath as if she’d been keeping it in for ages. “Feels like you could both use a little help.”

“We don’t need help. I just--I need space,” you said. 

And it was true--at first you were sure you’d never want to speak to him again. When the gang first showed up you were convinced that you’d have a miserable time in his presence and be counting down the days until they left, freeing you from any obligation to interact with him. 

But now, after museum glimpses of normalcy before Jessie’s outburst, you were wondering if maybe you should have coffee--just the two of you--after they left. 

And maybe you’d get something close. The next morning when you were sat on Harry’s leather sofa for the last time as a group of six, he made some joke about how you never could seem to remember where the wine glasses were. It felt almost like he was testing the water--seeing where things stood as two people who were about to be set free into a busy city with no real reason now to see each other. Unless you wanted to. 

And when you hugged them all goodbye in the lobby, watching as Roger rebuilt the mountain of luggage in his car, you felt like maybe now was the time to say something. But he said it first. 

The last door was shut, Jake’s outline barely visible through the tinted glass as Roger put the car in drive.

“D’ya want a cup of tea?”

You looked up at him, a swell in your chest and an answer from your lips before he could take it back. “Sure.” Up the lift and into his flat, the kettle on the stove while you sat at the counter. 

“Thanks for having them come,” you said, shoulders up to your ears. “Even though things were weird, for a minute.”

“Course,” he said, arms crossed over his chest. A long pause, enough quiet to hear the heating kick on and a siren outside the thick windows. “You know, Y/N, I want to be friends with you.”

You looked up at him, your heart in your stomach at his words--a true sign that you wanted more, as if you hadn’t known until he offered words that fell short. “Oh,” you said. “Okay.”

He shifted on his feet, his eyes bringing heat to your face when you finally looked back up at him. “Okay?” He laughed a little, leaning forward on the counter. “S’all you have to say?”

“I don’t know what to say, Harry--fine, we can be friends.”

His eyes narrowed in your face, he licked his lips before parting them to speak. “Are you even curious about my side of it?”

“You already tried to explain your way out of it, Harry. What else do you have t’say?”

“I just want you to listen to me!” His voice was more emotional than usual, as if the tightrope you’d both been walking on had suddenly wrapped around his heart. 

“I already did listen!”

“No, Smalls, you didn’t, really.”

“So--okay, then. You want me to agree with you, forgive you really, not listen,” you corrected. He rolled his eyes at that. 

A text from Jessie lit up your phone, his did the same thing only a few inches away. You sighed, thumbing back a reply, making them promise to keep you updated on their travel home. 

He waited--patiently watching as you replied and set it back on the granite counter. When you looked up at him, he searched your face. “I should have told you.”

“I know,” you said. 

“I was too afraid to tell you because everything was going well. For the first time ever, really. Felt too good to be true and I was afraid I’d fuck it up if I admitted that I had seen her.”

“I get it.”

“You do?”

A nod. 

“Are you still mad?”

“I don’t know, Harry--I’m exhausted, is what I am.” He didn’t say anything, his eyes begged you to continue. “I can’t do the back and forth anymore. The friends, not friends, talking, not talking. S’been an exhausting eight years since you left home. Maybe not for you, but it has been for me.”

The kettle whistled, he pulled it off before it could scream and flipped off the burner. His voice was quiet. “I know.”

“I never knew if I was going to see you or hear from you and I don’t want to have some weird type of relationship with you that isn’t,” a pause, searching for the word when he slid a teacup across the counter. “Stable.”

“I want it to be stable.”

“I think the only way for us to have that is just,” you trailed off when he nodded, set his tea on the counter and traced a pattern on the counter with just one finger. 

“To be friends.”

“Yeah.”

You only stayed for another ten minutes, finished the tea and laughed at a picture of his sister’s new cat. He paused awkwardly at the door when you said goodbye, a hand shoved into his pocket before he could let it wrap around you.

**

Carly brushed at her hair with her fingers--desperate to go out into the sunny weather for lunch. She stood over your cube, watching as you finished typing a list on the best memes from last week’s episode of the Bachelor. 

“S’that the Harry story?” She whispered as if it was still a secret, as if you didn’t give the same nervous update in staff meeting every week._ S’going well_, you’d say. Making good progress. 

No one needed to know you were lying, that is, except for Carly. 

“No,” you rolled your eyes, clicking out of your story so it’d be queued up for Gabrielle to edit and proof. “S’taking forever, honestly. I haven’t got the slightest clue how to do it. I was planning on actually taking some time tonight to give it another go.”

You grabbed for your wallet, tugging your coat on before you followed her out of your space. 

“How’ve things been with him? Still, y’know, fighting over wine?” She offered a smirk, one that threatened to be challenging, but you weren’t in the mood to divulge more. 

“S’fine, we’re over it.”

She pressed the button for the lift, looked up to see the bright green numbers start to descend above the doors. “Having everyone in town was good, right?”

“Yeah, a lot of fun, turned twenty-four. You know, a real wild week out of the office.” 

You stepped inside and rode it down, shifting aside for other people to cram on for the lunch time rush. When you found your way down the block, she pressed harder. “Any idea what you’re going to do about Whitney?”

You shook your head, thankful for the oversized sunglasses that shielded from the winter sun. 

“D’you think you could just lie? Just write as if you don’t know him and hope for the best?”

“If only I’d be so lucky,” you laughed. “Just doesn’t seem realistic. M’still surprised that people haven’t put it together. I made all of my friends delete photos or go private or whatever on social media.”

“Right,” she nodded, a pause at the intersection. “Any more obnoxious tweets?” 

“Only one that I saw that made it seem like they’ll figure it out eventually.” She raised her brows with intrigue. “Someone said a picture of me looked a lot like a different picture of me from a few years ago.”

She let out a noise of concern, shoving past someone who moved too slow through the crosswalk. “What do you think you’ll do, then?”

“I’ve got to tell her at some point. The question is how.”

“D’you think she’ll fire you?”

“Don’t know,” you said, voice lower now. “Wouldn’t be surprised. So, I dunno. Maybe I should look for other jobs.”

She let her mouth pull to one side of her face, sympathy clouding her eyes. She let it go, though, changing the topic to a new bar she’d tried over the weekend and a partially successful date she’s had on Saturday. He at least split the check with me, she laughed, which is better than the last one who made me pay. 

You ate on the plush red sofas on the twenty-second floor, pretended like the dread of telling Whitney didn’t crop up inside of you every time she popped her pretty head out of her pretty office. 

“You know,�� Carly’s voice was low when you tossed your take out in the bin. “If you really don’t want to write it, see if she’ll let you transfer it to someone. M’super busy, but, I would obviously jump at that opportunity,” she stifled a grin that tried to break loose on her cheeks. 

“Tried that,” you said, defeated. “I asked Whitney why she didn’t give it to you in the first place seeing as you’ve always been a fan.”

“What? You did?” Carly stopped in her tracks, her face a different shade of winter pale than it had been. “What did she say?”

“I dunno, Carly, something dumb. It was a while ago, I don’t remember,” it was a lie, but you weren’t about to tell her that. 

“Oh come on, she must have given a reason why she wanted you to do it.” She fell back into step with you now, her eyes still trained on your face with purpose.

You let out a sigh, wishing you could crawl into the safe reprieve of warm sheets--specifically ones that still had a lingering smell of a certain someone. “I dunno, something about wanting it to come from someone less biased, or a more professional outlook, it wasn’t a big deal.”

“What?” She seemed to whisper-hiss in your ear, her fingers wrapping around your elbow to slow you down. “She thought I’d be unprofessional?”

“No, no--that’s not what she said. I told you I don’t even remember! She just wanted me to do it since she thought I wasn’t a fan.”

Her face fell, you couldn’t tell which emotion had taken hold of her. Her eyebrows dipped together and she pursed her lips. “That’s shitty of her--I wouldn’t have been unprofessional!”

“Carly,” you stopped now, turning to face her and ready to backtrack. You knew that Whitney hadn’t been the nicest about her reasoning, but you weren’t about to get into it. “Relax--she was just trying to throw me a bone, remember? She knew I was pissed about being stuck on lists and she was trying to do something nice.”

She let out a sigh, reaching up to fix her pony tail that fell over her shoulder. “If she’d given it to me you wouldn’t be in this mess. She wouldn’t be in this mess with you. Our entire company wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

“S’not a mess,” you defended, head pulled away from her in offense. “M’sorting it out, I told you.”

“Right, Y/N, the blurred lines in your friendship with a subject aren’t problematic at all.” She put air quotes around the platonic label, immediately pulling a scoff from your mouth. 

“What’s that--” you let your fingers bend like hers had, “--supposed to mean?” 

She pulled you into her own cube, small enough to offer privacy but big enough to fit the two of you. “You really haven’t slept with him? You’ve never even kissed? Find it hard to believe with the way he looks at you!”

You inhaled and held it, eyes on her as you contemplated just blowing it all. Her lips curled up at the corners a bit, a laugh from her lips and a softened expression. “Y/N--just admit it. Aside from the fact that you’re writing about him it’s not a big deal. I can handle the fact that him and I will never work out,” she teased. 

“I can’t tell you all about it here,” you said, voice quiet as you scanned the room to make sure no one else had heard. 

“Fine,” she nodded. “Then let’s do dinner tomorrow night.”

So when you were alone on your own sofa that night, you begged your brain to try to come up with something good enough to publish. You’d lit a candle, put on some music, and drew the curtains. Only a few steps short of a satanic ritual after Alyssa left to meet Owen’s friends. She’d offered to bring you along, but you said you needed the space. 

What you didn’t tell her was that you needed the space to cry or freak out or experience whatever would come pouring out of you when you finally had a minute to process the last few months. 

You’d never been much of a crier--save for a good shower sob or drunken outburst--and now wasn’t much different. You sat at first and stared at your computer screen, bullet points scattered a blank white page that mocked you. 

Friends. You and Harry were friends. He’d been one for a long time, really. Someone who knew you better than most people and someone who knew exactly how to piss you off and make up for it in the same moment. 

You’d been walking a tightrope for the last decade, pushing and pulling and wondering when or if it would give. Separated by oceans or continents and still dreaming that one day your lives would align again. 

And they have, you know that now. But they’ve aligned in a way that felt messier than before--which you didn’t know was possible. 

The version of Harry that Whitney wanted you to write about was someone you didn’t know--one with perfectly coiffed hair and a personal assistant. So you decided that if you didn’t know how to tell the story of that Harry, the one who had celebrities on speed dial and didn’t hesitate to order top shelf liquor, you wouldn’t. You’d tell the story of your Harry. 

And when you did that, the words fell onto the keyboard and jumped onto paper, promising that the truth was better than any fiction you could craft. 

**

A text from Alyssa the next morning made your stomach sink to your feet. 

Alyssa (8:43am): Okay, not to ruin your day so early, but I just saw these.

Pictured from LA. Ones that you could easily explain. You could find them on instagram and defend your case in the comments. See that bag? It’s got a laptop and tape recorder inside. For professional purposes only.

You let a sigh escape your lips, fine, it was fine. It wasn’t like people didn’t know that you knew Harry at all--it was really just a secret now that you’d known him for so long. Or, at least, it was a secret until you could tell Whitney yourself. 

You’d decided--after staring at the blinking cursor on your screen for a good three hours the night before--that you wanted to at least give her the story before you really came out with it. That way, in case you somehow managed to catch her on a day where she was willing to overlook unprofessionalism, unethical behavior, and an altogether shitty situation, she at least had the chance to realize how skillful of a writer you were. 

You hoped that after an eventful and exhausting few months the universe had some kind of good karma coming your way. But then the guilt of lying set in and you were back to planning an exit strategy and a plan B for what would happen if Whitney didn’t see the good in you. 

You thumbed out a response to Alyssa right after you got off the subway. 

Y/N L/N (8:47am): ugggghhhh

Y/N L/N (8:47am): at least no one has put it all together yet

Which was true. You only had to deal with the mess you’d made for a few more days. Your story was due on Friday, Harry left for tour a few days after, and hopefully, things could return to some semblance of normal. Though you couldn’t quite imagine what normal would look like now. 

You climbed the steps up to street level, thankful that the sun had decided to fight its way through the late February cloud cover. When you were upstairs and at your desk, another message came through that you weren’t quite expecting. 

Pat Martin (9:01am): Would love to grab dinner or a drink one night this week if you’re free!

You stared at it for a second, reading over the words a few times before you were able to make any sense of them. A date--this time you were sure of it. 

But did you want that? Did you want to blur the lines between professionalism and romance for the second time in six weeks?

You put your phone face down on your desk, booted up your computer and then checked email. Whitney strolled by you with a bagel in hand, a smile on her face, and a pep in her step. 

“How’s the big story coming?”

“Good,” you said, a solemn nod before you blinked twice, a small smile on your face. “Worked on it last night.”

It was probably the first honest response you’d given her about it. She adjusted the bagel in her grasp, crinkling the wax paper that kept her hands clean. “Can’t wait to read it. You’ll give it to me by Friday?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded again, praying she couldn’t smell the fear in you. 

When she left you alone at your paper-cluttered desk, you typed out a response to Pat before you could overthink it. 

Y/N L/N (9:06am): Sure! Any chance you’re free tonight? 

He was quick to type back--you wondered if he was somewhere in LIC late to work, rushing from the subway or already situated at his desk. 

Pat Martin (9:07am): I can be in the city by 6:30? Wanna meet somewhere near you?

You stared at the message and got lost in thought. It’d been a while since you’d been on a date--at least, one that really felt like one. 

There was a kid at uni after Charlie--a boy from class who always wore these horrific shoes. He was sweet and nice but nothing about him sent a spark through you. In fact, you felt altogether quite unimpressed with his presence after 45 minutes so you cut the date short and headed back to your dorm. 

You hoped that this would be different--that Pat wouldn’t want to talk about work the entire time and that maybe he’d walk you home. 

More than anything, though, you hoped he’d numb the ache in your chest for Harry. 

“Morning,” Carly’s blonde hair was blonder than the day before, loose curls falling around her shoulders. “Care to brainstorm with me for new topics in twenty?”

“Sure,” you said, straightening your posture as if you hadn’t just been pulled away into a daydream of men. “Yeah, wanna grab the conference room downstairs?”

She agreed and laughed hysterically when you told her about your set up the night before. Only needed a candle and a picture of him! She teased, if you chanted loud enough you probably could have summoned him. The afternoon slipped out of your hands, quick and busy, and when the sun was seeping between the cracks of tall buildings, you headed for the bar down the street where you’d agreed to meet Pat. 

When your arm was outstretched for the door, your phone started buzzing in your pocket. You pulled it out, unsure of who needed you or who would skip straight to a phone call rather than a text. 

But of course, Harry’s name and a stupid selfie he’d taken only a few weeks back lit up your screen. Your finger hovered over the decline button. Three rings, four, then your thumb hit the green button, feet frozen on the sidewalk. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Smalls--s’me. What--uh, what are you up to?”

“Just got out of work,” you said, true. “Grabbing a drink with Carly.”

“Oh, nice,” he paused for a second but then got right to it. “Listen--I have a thing on Thursday night. A dinner thing. I was wondering if you’d want to tag along?”

You were quiet, teeth tugging at your bottom lip when a gust of winter air blew. “As, like, a date?”

“N--no. Not as a date if you don’t want it to be as a date.”

“I thought we were just friends.”

“We are.”

“Okay.”

“Okay you’ll come?”

“Okay I’ll think about it,” you told him, a firmness in your voice that you didn’t think you’d ever used with him before. A firmness that hindered any hope in his response. 

“Oh--yeah. Alright. I’ll uh, I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Okay,” you hung up without a farewell, shoving the phone back in your pocket before taking another deep breath. An event? You had no idea what that would entail or what you were supposed to wear or say or do. It felt too vague to commit to and yet too interesting and intriguing to decline. So you tucked the decision away in your mind, saving it for a conversation with Alyssa and maybe even a glass of wine over FaceTime with Jessie and Bryn.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside from the stinging cold. Pat was already there--a stool at the bar with his jacket still on. He offered a side hug when you walked up beside him, a somewhat sheepish grin sat lazily on his face. 

“How was your day?” He asked in greeting, settling back into his seat.

You let out a sigh and nodded. “Good, fine. Starving though.”

“Best nachos in the city, here, so that’s good.”

The bartender materialized in front of you, eyebrows raised to take your order. 

“I’ll do a Blue Moon,” Pat leaned forward a little when he ordered, his eyes fleeting over to you. “And the nachos.”

“I will also do a Blue Moon,” you nodded, a smile in his direction once you were alone again.

“Why the sigh about work?” He folded his hands together on the dark wooden counter, scratched and dents told the stories of customers past. 

“Just busy, is all. Big story coming up.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Harry Styles, actually. An interview.”

His eyes went wide, the glow of neon wall decor lit up his irises in the dim room. “S’a big deal.”

“Yeah, so the stress level is a bit higher than usual.”

“Understandable. Interviewing one of the biggest celebrities in the world would certainly leave me with a lot of sleepless nights.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from telling him the truth. It was harder than that, really, seeing as you had to fight the feelings in your heart and all the while deal with a level of confusion--both professionally and personally--that you’d never known before. 

You returned the pleasantry. “How was your day? Anything new and exciting at Digitize?”

“Not really--mostly spent the day looking forward to this,” he offered you a cheeky smirk, pulling his eyes back down to his hands when the bartender delivered two glasses--foam reaching up to the rims. He picked his up and held it in the air, waiting for you to let yours clink against his.

“Cheers,” you said, the drink jumped over the edged and trickled its way down to your hand. “To a Tuesday night.”

He was nice--he told you about his brother and his favorite band. He talked about New York and wanted to hear all about England._ Is it true that everyone has to curtsey or bow to the Queen?_ He asked. 

Only if you’re lucky enough to meet her, you told him. 

He was intrigued by your desire to move west--to find some solace in the States and give up the opportunities that surely would have been afforded to you if you moved to London. A fair question, absolutely, but you weren’t quite at the point to give him the truth. 

Staying in London meant a higher likelihood of having to deal with Harry, bumping into him at work events or covering different things he did--or at least, so you thought. 

So you didn’t tell him everything he probably would have liked to know. You left out pieces of your life--details like the LA trip or your recent birthday celebrations didn’t seem like they were appropriate topics of conversation for only one drink and a plate of nachos in. 

And you wondered when he walked you back to the subway if you’d ever get to that point with him, because the moment his lips touched yours, quick and chaste and extremely politely, your cellphone started to feel like it was burning a hole in your pocket.

The N train pulled up and you hugged him goodbye, promising to see each other again soon. But when the doors shut between you and the rest of the world, your fingers typed out a message and pressed send before you could think better of it. 

Y/N L/N (7:15pm): What do I have to wear if I come?

come talk to me about tytl

read the other parts here

AN: on the shorter side but you best all be gearing up for a wild FINAL FEW CHAPTERS. Yes, that’s right. Either chap 15 or 16 will be the end...still writing and editing all that so stay tuned! so much love to all of you who’ve tagged along on this wild ride!!! 

tag list:  @clorenafila @ainsleesolareclipse @castawaycths @harryspirate @wanderlustiing @ursamajor603 @thurhomish @omgsharry  @stepping-into-the-light @rachkon @jdcharliewhiskey  @shawnsblue  @gendryia @g0bl1nqueen  @laula843  @flooome  @a-woman-without-a-plan@awomanindeniall  @shaw-nm @staceystoleyourheart @ohprettylittlemind-deactivated2 @anssu-amry @my-fandomful-life2 @stylesfantasy @bookingbee  @mleestiles  @haute-romance-quotidienne  @craic-head-horan @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @at-least-im-1 @paigemck00 @rawmeharry @pinkpolaroidgirl @blackxxmagicc @sksspotkitty @nearbyou @kalesouffle @sunnflowerchild @lmk12310 @sing-me-a-song-harry @afterstylesmadeit @myhat @caritocp @liquor-and-intellect @harryinsweatersandbandanas @daydreamsofh

[dailytomlinson]

“I probably shouldn’t be talking about this but f*** it,” he tells me now. “My point is, I clearly wasn’t in the best frame of mind, you know? And the situation definitely got out of hand and people were goading me. It wasn’t my finest hour but it was a difficult time. I was already on edge and, in that headspace, it got the better of me.”

By “that headspace”, Tomlinson means that he was grieving. The airport incident took place a few months after his mother Johannah’s death from leukaemia at 43. (In March last year, his 18-year-old sister, Félicité, died from an accidental overdose. Quite reasonably, I’ve been asked not to bring this up.) Tomlinson, who is now 28, says his experiences of grief in the public eye have been “really tough. There have been mixed emotions. I’ve hated the fact that everyone’s talking about it, but that’s the way it is. I didn’t like the idea of people feeling sorry for me. But I’ve also felt the support from fans and people reaching out on social media or whatever… and I do feel I’ve got this ability to see the glass as half full. Because what else am I going to f***ing do?”

I meet Tomlinson in an upstairs room of a pub in a residential corner of London’s Notting Hill. He is dressed in jeans, a red tracksuit top and trainers. The only visible evidence of his previous life in One Direction, the biggest boyband in pop history, is his hair, which is artfully swept sideways as if he’s standing in a wind tunnel. An old hand at winning over interviewers, he greets me with a hug before sitting down, leaning back and putting his feet up.

Tomlinson is on the promotional trail for his debut album, Walls, which has been four years on the making. It includes “Two of Us”, a ballad which lays bare Tomlinson’s loss (“You’ll never know how much I miss you/ The day that they took you, I wish it was me instead”). In a change of mood, it also contains the Britpop-flavoured “Kill My Mind”, a throwback to his mid-teens and the indie night he’d go to with his friends in his native Doncaster.

Tomlinson grew up listening to Oasis and Arctic Monkeys, though right now he can’t get enough of Catfish and the Bottlemen: “I like anything with big guitars and a big chorus.” He reckons “Kill My Mind” will struggle to get on the radio but he doesn’t care since, musically, “I’ve often been swimming against the tide.”

He puts the album’s long gestation down to creative insecurity. “A good two years [was spent] treading water and trying to work out exactly what my sound was, and what I was capable of.” Clearly, One Direction, who sold 50 million albums, are a tough act to follow, though Tomlinson has also had to contend with his former colleagues putting out solo work before him (Harry Styles is already on his second LP, while Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne have all released debuts). But he rejects the suggestion that they are all in competition, remarking, “I don’t like to look at it that way.”

I ask if he and his ex-bandmates have a WhatsApp group. They don’t, he replies, “and we should, but we’ve never got around to it”. But he says they are frequently in touch, which must be something people ask a lot since, entirely unbidden, he gives me a breakdown of their recent activities. Let the record show that he spoke to Liam two days ago; he and Niall exchanged texts a fortnight ago; and Harry sent him a congratulatory message when he released his last single. There is no mention of Zayn.

Tomlinson says the face he presents to the public and journalists these days is fully unfiltered, a change from his One Direction days when he had to be careful not to cause inadvertent upset within the band or with fans. “No one was saying ‘Don’t do that’, but there was the [pressure] of being role models. So it took a second to understand that [as a solo artist] I could get away with completely being myself, even though I can sometimes be a bit of a dickhead.”

In fact, there are two Tomlinsons that emerge throughout our chat. There’s boyband Louis, full of sweet but bland blather about self-expression, his gratitude to fans, and the luck that he’s enjoyed as an artist. But another version of him frequently comes through who is funny, sweary and thoughtful about his decade in the limelight.

Tomlinson has had four years to digest his time in One Direction which I note, from the outside, looked a bit like being held hostage. But even with the fan fervour, the police escorts and the nonstop media glare, he says he wouldn’t change anything. “We were always in control of our destiny,” he explains. “We rose to fame pretty quick and, because of that, we had some power and some say within the record label and with management.” The sheer pace and drama of their day-to-day existence was, he says, “like a drug. It’s that feeling of heightened emotion and every day being manically busy, and the hysteria. Although you might complain about it, none of us said, ‘No we don’t wanna do that.’ We were just in it. We were f***ing loving it.”

Still, he says, the initial 18 months were hard as he struggled to see his value within the band. “I would wonder, ‘What difference would it make if I was there or if I wasn’t?’ Under the spotlight that was difficult, but that’s what gave me the fire in the belly to get right into it.” It was through songwriting that he found his place and his confidence – he has writing credits on 37 One Direction songs, more than anyone else in the band. “That’s something I’m really f***ing proud of,” he says. “Now I can say I made a difference.”

The end of One Direction was a shock to Tomlinson, even though he knew it was coming. “We’d done such a lot of work in a short space of time so a break was inevitable. But I don’t think I was necessarily ready for how long. We had a band meeting and everyone just said, ‘Maybe we’ll put it on the back burner for a bit,’ and I felt a bit petulant about that at the time. It actually hit me like a ton of bricks.” Now the band are officially on hiatus – “even though that’s a stupid f***ing word”, he says. “Truthfully, none of us truly know [if we’ll reform]. I just know what my gut says and my gut says we will get back together at some point. I think it was too magical for all of us to never do it again.”

The eldest of seven siblings, as a child Tomlinson says he was “well-mannered but a bit of a show-off. I was a lot cockier than I am now. Being in One Direction made me realise I’m not always the coolest kid in the room”.

He wasn’t good academically at school but enjoyed performing and, for a while, toyed with being an actor. Before auditioning on The X Factor, he did a string of jobs at weekends and in school holidays for some extra cash. One summer was spent as a waiter at his beloved football club, Doncaster Rovers. Another yielded a stint at a well-known cinema chain dispensing popcorn. There, he tells me unexpectedly, he was earning “an extra wage”. An extra wage? “As in taking a few quid from the till,” he says with a grin. “It all started because there was a McDonald’s over the road and I wanted money for my lunch.” His trick was to hand customers two boxes of popcorn but only put one through the system and put the money for the second in his pocket. “I didn’t want to short-change the customer,” he explains. “I’d take from the company. I’m a man of the people.”

It was his mum’s idea for him to try out for The X Factor, though it took three attempts to get through to the televised auditions. He says the experience of going on stage in front of the live audience, under the glare of the lights and with four famous judges looking back at him, remains the most terrifying of his life.

We talk for a bit about Tomlinson’s return to The X Factor in 2018 as a judge alongside Simon Cowell plus Robbie Williams and his wife Ayda Field. He asks what I made of the show so I decide to be honest and tell him that I thought the whole thing looked tired and Cowell appeared bored out of his mind. “Well I couldn’t possibly comment on [Cowell],” says Tomlinson, good-naturedly, “though I actually loved it. But yeah, I feel that, as a show, it needs a rest. There’s a place for a show like it and I’ve got my career to thank for it, but we’ve had a lot of it, so let’s just let it rest and make people want it again.”

Life has slowed down since the madness of One Direction but he still can’t find the time to read a book or watch a box set. Where, in his pre-fame days, he struggled to hold down a job, now he’s happiest when he’s busy. Should the singing career stall, he would like to run his own management company. Five years ago, he launched a record label, an imprint on Cowell’s Syco label, but life got in the way and his plans to create a girl band fell at the first hurdle. Originally he had gathered a list of 20 acts that he was keen to sign, and points out that “like, four or five of them are signed [elsewhere] now… I think I have an instinct for these things”.

I ask, rather unfairly, if the solo career of a former boyband member is ultimately a doomed endeavour – for every Robbie Williams, there’s a Howard, Jason and Mark whose careers sink without trace. For a moment Tomlinson looks stumped but then he prevaricates like a pro. “Of course, there are days where I might have unreal expectations and when I have to tell myself to stay grounded,” he says. “But I had a breakthrough moment last year about what success really means and I think I can look at it for what it is now. I have to look at how happy I am and remember that I’m lucky to be doing what I’m doing.”

[radiosteve]

Need Your Loving Tonight Ch. 19

Summary: You and John have a heart to heart after your talk with Roger.

Note: A lot of angst and drama in this one. Hope you enjoy! As always, the italicized part is the reader’s thoughts. The photo is one that I found on google. I do not own any rights to it. If you want to be added to the taglist send me a message or an ask and I’ll add you!  

Warnings: Language, Angst

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader, John Deacon x Reader

Words: 3.5k+

  November 14, 1974

 You woke up on the couch the morning after your talk with Roger. A chill worked through your body, bringing goosebumps to your arms despite the blanket that Sally laid over you. You shifted, rolling onto your back to stare at the ceiling. A throbbing in your head began, matching the ache that radiated from your heart. I really fucked up.

 It was still dark outside when you decided to get up from the couch, restless and unable to stay still. You checked the clock mounted on the wall in the kitchen as saw that it was just after 6 am. Every part of your body ached with sadness, feeling like you lost something and could never get it back. You moved into the kitchen and turned on the light before crouching down and searching the cabinets for the tea kettle. If I can’t fall back asleep, I might as well make some tea.

 Your fingers fumbled over the pans as your eyes still adjusted to the kitchen light. The feel of the cool metal against your already shivering skin made your sadness multiply. It was something that you just couldn’t explain. Maybe the chilling texture brought you back to Roger’s cold glare the night before. You tried to move a large saucepan out of the way, but instead it ended up falling to the ground in a loud bang. A curse fell from your lips as you placed it back in the cabinet. 

 A rush of anger swept through you with each cabinet that you rifled through. With the tea kettle still missing, you slammed the cabinet door shut in frustration. Wet, hot tears began streaming down your face as you slumped to the ground. Your back hit against the cabinet, jamming its handle into your shoulder, which only made you cry harder. A noise came from down the hall and you saw Sally through the tears in your eyes.

 “Y/n? What the hell are you doing? It’s 6 o’clock in the morning,” Sally walked into the kitchen as she spoke. Her hair was sticking up in the back and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot from sleeping. Her pajamas hung loosely around her frame as she squatted down in front of you. Her expression, while annoyed from being woken up early on a workday, was soft and full of concern. 

“I just wanted to make some tea,” you said through a wave of sobs. Your breath hitched and hiccupped as a stream of tears still flooded from your eyes. “But I can’t find the tea kettle. So, I got angry. And that, mixed with everything from last night made me cry I guess,” your sobs lightened a little as Sally stroked the side of your face with her hand.

 “Y/n, sweetheart,” she began, swiping the tears from your face as she did so. “The tea kettle is on the stove,” her voice was soft and caring. The tears stopped flowing as you looked up from the ground and focused on her.

 “What?” you asked, feeling stupid for not checking there in the first place. You shifted your gaze up towards the stove, spotting the tea kettle resting on the back burner. You let out a choked laugh before more tears fell from your face into your lap. “That’s great. I’m just one big idiot,” you stood up and marched back over to the couch in the living room. You threw yourself down face first with your hands above your head. The sound of running water in the kitchen caused you to look up. You found Sally filling the tea kettle before placing it back on the stove to warm up.

 “You’re not an idiot, you know. You just made a mistake,” Sally came over and sat on the edge of the couch. Her hands tangled into your messy hair in an effort to comfort you. “It was probably just a misunderstanding, right? You say something based on impulse that you don’t really mean. Roger gets angry and yells. Then he storms off and leaves you crying. That’s what happened right,” As Sally spoke you raised your head from the couch once more. You rolled over, facing her now as your expression turned sour.

 “You talked to him? I can’t believe it,” you exclaimed sitting upright and startling Sally from the couch. She stood in front of you as her eyebrows lifted in surprise and yours furrowed in anger.

 “It was only for a second. All I asked was what he did that made you cry so bad,” she defended herself, raising her hands as she spoke. “I was just trying to look out for you. He didn’t really tell me anything. He hung up almost immediately after I called,” she took a step towards you, but your face remained hard and unforgiving. 

 “You should have never intervened in the first place. I mean, the reason that this whole thing happened was because I took your advice. You just kept pressing me to tell Roger how I felt, to lay it all out there. And now look where that got me. I fell asleep crying on the couch for fuck’s sake. I was fine before all of this!” you shouted loudly, standing up from the couch where you sat before.

 “Like hell you were. The anxiety and guilt about your feelings for Roger were practically eating you alive. I could tell, and so could Brian. And I told you to just tell Roger how you felt, not offer to run away with him. That was all you,” Sally tried to remain calm, knowing that this was just misdirected anger. But the way you spoke and the anger on your face made it difficult to keep neutral. 

 “Liar! You told me to ‘explore every option’. How the hell am I supposed to explore it if I’ve never even had the experience in the first place? Huh?” Sally didn’t respond, not wanting to fuel the flame of your fire. “How the hell am I supposed to face him now? He probably thinks I’m some psycho that’s just trying to use him. And John. Fuck. What if Roger tells him?” the words spewed from your mouth like a constant string of consciousness.

 “He would never do that. He cares about you too much. Roger would never try to sabotage your relationship with John,” Sally’s words were calm, her arms crossed in front of her chest. 

 “Still. How am I supposed to face John after this? How am I supposed to move forward knowing that I might have just screwed up one of my closest friendships all because I was starting to feel a little boxed in? I mean, John is my fiancé. There’s no way to move forward without telling him. And if I tell him then he’ll probably break up with me,” you slumped back down onto the couch once more and the tea kettle began to whistle from the stove. Sally went back into the kitchen, pouring the hot water into two cups with tea bags already in them.

 “You’re right, he might. Or he might not, that’s something you’ll have to face,” she added sugar to the mugs and brought them over to the sofa. She sat next to you and placed one mug in your hand as she took small sips from the other. “But relationships are built on trust and telling John is the most noble thing for you to do. Even if you really don’t want to,” her eyes gazed softly into yours and her demeanor mirrored that of someone who had found complete bliss. Her words, while anxiety inducing and potentially life changing, caused an odd sense of calmness to wash over you. You nodded, sipping the tea from your mug before looking back at Sally.

 “Thank you,” you said, feeling the warmth and love that she had for you in every second that passed. She smiled at you softly before gently placing her hand on yours. “I love you and I’m sorry,” her thumb rubbed circles over the back of your hand as her eyes locked onto yours. 

 “I know,” she said simply before taking another sip of her tea and going back to bed.

 November 15, 1974

 You had called John the night before, arranging to meet him after you got done with work. He picked you up, taking you back to your apartment afterwards so the two of you could talk. You felt nervous, seeing the entirety of your relationship crumbling down which each passing second. But John didn’t seem to notice. He was too excited about how well received the album had been. He rambled on throughout the car ride about its success and the idea of a tour in Japan soon. In John’s head, everything from here on out was an upward slope. But oh, how your thoughts differed.

 John trailed behind you as you entered your apartment. Sally was still at work, meaning that the two of you were completely alone. That something that seemed to not happen often these days. As you pushed the door open John wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing kisses to your neck as he did so. 

 “John,” you spoke clearly, trying to get him to stop. He only hummed a response instead, too invested in your neck to see the warning signs of you wanting him to stop. “John, please stop, honey. I need to talk to you,” your nerves came through in your voice, which caught John’s attention. 

 “What is it, baby? What’s got you so nervous?” John asked, moving to sit down on the sofa as you sat in the chair across from it.

 “It’s just that we’ve been really busy all week and I feel like I’ve barely talked to you, you know?” you plastered a fake smile on your face as you looked at him. He smiled back at you and began to nod his head.

 “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ve just been a little caught up with the new album,” John crossed his right leg over his left, placing his hands into his lap. “So, what do you want to talk about?” he asked, looking at you as your stomach twisted. His face was so sweet and full of love. He cared so deeply for you and you felt awful. You were about to tell him something that could rip his heart from his chest. You loved him too, there was no doubt about that, but this was something that you needed to do.

 “Well,” you began, aiming your line of sight towards the ground to stop the guilt from flowing within you. “I wanted to talk about feelings,” you spoke slowly, as if it would stop the words from coming out of your mouth.

 “Feelings?” John questioned; confusion clearly written across his face. You nodded in response trying to avoid speaking. “What regarding feelings do you want to talk about exactly?” his voice was calm but inquisitive.

 “I- uh wanted to talk about feelings and how they grow and change over time,” John only looked more confused as you continued. “In uni, when Smile was still together, I had a little crush on Roger,” you started speaking only to stop when John’s face changed. He looked more so surprised than anything and that made you feel even worse.

 “You had a crush on Roger in uni? Like when you first met him?” John asked and nerves just kept building up within you. 

 “Yes and no. I mean, neither of us did anything about it until Tim left the band. We were both really frustrated that night, and we ended up being a little impulsive,” John just raised his eyebrows, clearly not understanding. “We slept together that night,” you stated bluntly as your leg began to bounce up and down with nerves.

 “Oh,” John said, his eyes staring blankly at the wall, clearly shocked at what you just said. “I had no idea,” he continued, trying to turn his eyes back to you, but seemingly unable to do so. Your thumb rose to your lips in a habitual way as you began to bite at the flesh. “That was before we were together, before we even knew each other, so it doesn’t really matter. Unless you feel like it does,” John went on, finally meeting your worried gaze.

 “If this conversation happened a year ago, I would say no. I would say that it doesn’t matter. I wish I could say that,” tears brimmed along your lash line and you tried your hardest not to let them flow. “It’s just that I had feelings for Roger back then and he rejected me. Then after a little while I met you. And I fell head over heels. I love you, John. I’m in love with you wholeheartedly. I want you to know that,” John nodded even though the confusion had reappeared on his face. “But as time went on, I found out that Roger was in love with me too,” a tear spilled down your cheek before you could catch it.

 “Are you saying that- that you cheated on me?” John’s voice quivered and you felt an ache grow in your heart.

 “No, no, never,” John looked reassured as you spoke, and it just made you feel worse. “You see, Roger and I got into a fight at that Christmas party when you and I first kissed. He told me then that he loved me. And when he said that, it ignited some old flame within me. It brought back that little schoolgirl crush that I had on him, but I was so happy with you. With our blossoming relationship. So, I ignored it,” more tears followed, and you found that the throbbing in your head had returned. 

 “What are you saying,” John intercut, trying to make sense of everything that you were laying out for him. You just ignored him and went on with your story.

 “For the past year or so, I’ve felt nothing but joy when I’m around you because I love you. But I also noticed that I started to feel the same way when I’m around Roger. And I know sounds horrible and you’re probably going to hate me, but I think I love him too,” your words were clouded by tears as John sat catatonically across from you. “And I told him a few days ago. I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. I was being eaten alive by guilt and emotions. I’m sorry, John. I love you and I want to be with you but I’m just so conflicted. I feel awful,” you rambled on as John’s expression remained unchanged. “Johnny, please say something,” you pleaded, coming to kneel in front of him. 

 “I didn’t know someone could feel that way,” he spoke quietly, his eyes staring blankly ahead. More tears streamed down from your eyes as he sat before you. “Damn it,” he stood up abruptly, knocking you back slightly as he did. “I knew love could hurt but I didn’t think it’d be this bad,” he said, cradling his forehead in his hand. 

 “But it doesn’t have to hurt. I can put aside these feelings and move on. Roger has already made it clear that nothing will happen with me and him. I love you and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t think I can even imagine life without you anymore,” the tears continued streaming down in thick rivers on your cheeks. 

 “I don’t know. This doesn’t seem like something that you can just move on from. It’s not like this is some small crush, Y/n. You said that you’re in love with him. Even if you do think you can get over it, you’ll still have to see him all the time. He’s one of my best friends. We’re in a band together. I really don’t know, Y/n,” you noticed that John had tears of his own beginning to run down his face. You stood up, moving towards him to brush the tears away, to reassure him that your passion and desire laid with him. But he moved away. John flinched from your touch and you felt your already breaking heart split further in two. 

 “Please, Johnny. We can work this out. I know we can. I’m your fiancé. It’s not like I accepted your proposal just on a whim. I did it because I love you. Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. We can’t just let some stupid feelings get in the way,” your hands clasped in front of you as you spoke, feeling like you were on the verge of getting down on your knees to beg.

 “I- I don’t know, Y/n. I uh, I need some space. Some time to think. To think about all of this before I can really decide where to go from here,” his voice was quiet and calculated as if he was trying to hold back any emotion that might set himself off. 

 “Yeah, ok. We can just spend a few days apart. Let things work themselves out, you know,” your eyes fell to the ground as you ran the thoughts through your head. 

 “I want the ring back,” John said, holding out his hand as he spoke. He caught you off guard and you took a step back when he did.

 “What?” it came out as just barely a whisper. A chill ran through your body, feeling a numbness that you couldn’t describe. No. No this can’t be happening.

 “I want the ring back. It might not be permanent, but until I can decide, I want it back,” his hand was still held in front of you. Your fingers trembled as they circled around the ring on your finger. You slid it off, holding the ring in your palm for a moment before placing it into the center of John’s hand. You let your fingers linger on his for another second before pulling away and looking back up at him. 

 “John,” you spoke quietly still, your throat clogged with sadness and tears. He pulled you into a tight hug, holding your boy as close to him as possible. John tilted your head up, bringing his lips to yours slowly. He kissed you with every last ounce of love in his body before pulling away once last time. “I love you,” the words fell from your lips in a habitual way as tears leaked down your face, brushing the corner of your mouth. John didn’t respond, instead he walked out the door and pocketed the ring. You followed him out, watching as he trailed down the hall, hoping that he would turn to look back at you. But he didn’t. He just went down the steps.

 November 16, 1974

 “I’m really sorry, but I need a few days off work,” you spoke into the telephone as your manager barked angrily on the other line. “It’s a family emergency and I have to go away for a while,” you lied, swiping at the tear that seemed to fall without your knowledge. Your manager finally gave in, reluctantly giving you a week off for the time being. The only issue was that you didn’t exactly plan on coming back. 

 With John and Roger both mad at you, you felt your reasons for staying in London dwindle by the second. Sure, you’d miss Brian, Sally, Freddie and all the other friends you’ve made in London, but you just couldn’t stand to be there anymore. Not when your chest ached at the thought of getting out of bed. So, you booked a flight home, arranging to stay with your parents for a little until you managed to get a good job over there. Then you’d move on, leaving behind the life you made, and then destroyed, in London. It would be difficult and lonely, but by now nothing could feel worse than the struggling beat of your heart as it worked itself in your chest. 

 So, you packed up a bunch of clothes, taking only what you needed for the time being. Knowing that even if you were moving to America that you would still have to come back to gather all your things. Sally reluctantly drove you to the airport, warning you not to run away from your problems, despite knowing that she can’t change your mind. You got on your plane about an hour later, heading home to New Jersey. The view of the clouds from the small oval window on the plane helped put you to sleep, something you haven’t done much of in the past few days. 

You landed a little while later, feeling something different in your bones as you stepped onto American soil for the first time in a few years. An odd sense of nostalgia filled you, dulling the pain caused by heartbreak. And you had only one thought pass back and forth in your head as you hailed a cab and gave him your parents address.I could probably stay here forever.

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[ithinkthereforiamfandom]

S3 Fix-it preview.

The story is Completed! I've got the 1st draft through from paper to phone. There's a way to go through a few proof reads and some editing but I'll be posting reviews here as always before it goes to AO3.

Prev

A MaryPOV now that the boys are reunited and The Game Is On...

Mary sat in the lounge of 221B in shock he had killed Magnessen granted it was to protect Sherlock but The Doctor in the Jumpers had killed the current greatest threat to her freedom though with the network silent she had no idea what to do. So she had moved into John's old room at 221B until it was all sorted out, apparently Mycroft had been concerned about repercussions. These bastards had no idea what she was capable of but that suited her. Moriarty might be dead but Moran would be pleased that she had married John away from Sherlock before she killed the little man. She would take John away in every way possible before she left, their faces when Sherlock had fallen for her false pregnancy symptoms had been priceless.

…

Sally Donovan had shown up at 221B after Sherlock’s return broke to the public, pale faced she'd stared at Sherlock for a few minutes before blurting out apologies and awkwardly hugging him then promptly collapsing into John's chair in tears. Sherlock watched relieved as Mary had intervened on the emotional scene and was glad that she was around to act as a buffer like John used to... John did it with grace though simply hissing a quiet order to Sherlock to make tea but Mary fluttered around inefficiently doing everything at once

He eased her back to the shaken Sargent and prepared a tea tray. He also explained why he had jumped and she thanked him for Greg's life but had still given him an odd look after she had accepted Mary's invitation to the baby shower.

…

An evening of Mocktails was not Sally's idea of a good time but she might as well get to know John's wife. The stripper was a bit much though, Mary had given him a shocked look like recognition but it had faded into mild distaste quickly. Jeanine had arranged everything, she and Cath were drinking real booze and seemed to be enjoying the party. Mary had been quietly amused by the evening until a text came through from Greg that John and Sherlock were in the drunk tank, that had drawn a real laugh from Mary at last. Sally felt better knowing that Sherlock and John were being held for the night. She had seen too many boys nights out go bad and those two were safer locked up. She had been on a case with them last week, Sherlock wasn't quite himself, he was quiet which should have been a relief but was mostly just worrying. John had been the more enthusiastic one as they had arrived but his ebullient attitude seemed to slowly rouse Sherlock. John had even lead the charge after Sherlock had figured out where the perp was hiding. The case had been solved but it had not been the same old freak show so she would discuss it with Greg later.

…

The belly was a nightmare, she had been adding pounds to the apparatus in line with her progression and it was driving her crazy, fortunately she was expected to be cranky as the pregnancy advanced. Mary had never been more grateful to have married an unobservant doctor and to have his idiot genius BFF in tow on their marriage, those two were thick as thieves but she was glad that they were also just thick. She was on her way to see Molly who had invited her out for tea before the baby arrived and took over their lives but as soon as she got into the lab she felt the anxiety in the air. Molly hugged her and Mary froze as fingers locked into the belly's brace and gave a hard tug.

"I don't understand why you are doing this Mary but you have to be honest with John. He loves you. John will understand." "Oh Molly" Mary moved as quickly as she could punching Molly to knock her out and dragging her into one of the bottom morgue drawers. They had had plans to go out so she would not be missed for an hour or two, resettling the belly she left St Bart's and hurried back to the flat. John Watson's pregnant wife was about to go missing so no doubt those two would search for whoever took her assuming that she had been snatched.

She sent up a few careful disturbances in the flat and had cringed as she stamped on her own phone, careful to wear one of John's shoes while doing so. She just had her burner phone now, She had hidden it in the baby crib as John never went there. She sent the emergency code to Moran, there had been no contact for too long to leave her with any confidence that he was near by. Jeanine's bloody stripper had looked so like him though that she could not help but hope that he was still alive. She hoped he was close but the contingency plan would hold her for a few weeks while John and Sherlock concentrated on their own enemies trying to find her kidnappers.

_____________

She had made it to the safe house quickly and was settling down for the night one evening when her phone rang. "Sebastian.. is that you? My cover is blown" She had been expecting Sebastian's normal string of curses so when Sherlock's smug voice replied she had nearly dropped the phone. "Molly missed you for tea Mary but I'm sure you'll send your apologies for missing it... And the blow to the jaw. The morgue draw I don't think she will be so forgiving over, our Molly is claustrophobic Mrs Watson. She was a bit shaken but she'll live." Mary was on her feet as soon as Sherlock began rambling. Molly would have told them about the belly but how the hell did Sherlock have this number unless he had been interfering with the baby stuff the way he had interfered with the wedding. Would he have traced the call by now... She hung up and quickly shut the phone down before opening the case to pull the battery. A microchip fell to the floor, a tracking device, the nosy smartarse bastard had put a tracking device in the phone. She crushed it viciously “That was my idea" Her husband's voice stated calmly from the doorway. He actually had a gun in his hand, she was almost impressed but was too busy looking out for Sherlock. "You were very slow darling." "I was too close to the target, didn't even notice a lack of swelling. I won't stand too close again Mary. Out the door please" He edged around the room clearing the door and Mary left, bolting from the doorway and vaulting the bannister, tumbling down a few stairs to the ground floor. John had pulled the trigger! This was actually going to be fun, let them chase her.

She gave a laugh as she raced the two of them to the door, nothing made her feel more alive than being shot at and missed. The last corridor was in sight when Sherlock come sprinting from the other direction. The bastards had split up! To find her... But John's rapidly approaching steps told her no, they had split up to hunt her. Taking fast aim at Sherlock’s centre of mass she pulled the trigger on the fly and leapt over his crumpled body. That would delay John and if the first year of their relationship was any guideline he would be down for months with Sherlock properly dead this time. Fire erupted in her back and she heard John swear as she went down. She rolled onto her side to keep one lung clear and watched John crash to his knees beside Sherlock, at least she would get to watch John die in some way before she faded. "Moran is dead" John's voice shook as he pressed a hand to Sherlock's chest "Sherlock killed him months ago, no one was coming for you except us!" and then she was staring down the barrel of a gun.

…

“Okay I conceded that the vests were a good idea and my brother is Not a pompous fussy motherhen, just don’t tell Mycroft!!” Sherlock winced as he sat up and John checked the impact site, these really were good vests. Mycroft had descended on the pair before they left with the vests and a pile of paraphernalia for their task. Sherlock had scorned most of it but agreed to the vest once John had pointed out that if Sherlock wore one, so would he. “I’ll have to tell them about your tailor too, the man’s face” John chuckled at the memory of Sherlock’s elderly Italian tailor’s bugged eyed expression as he fitted a fine silk shirt over the bullet proof ballistics vest. Sherlock would have joined John’s mirth but the impact had caused some major bruising so he lay down again and grinned until Mycroft’s team arrived to collect them, and clean up the mess John’s well placed bullet had made.

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[archive-birchpembrooke-blog]

an unexpected visitor //

It had been about a month since the day that Finley had died. He had survived the rest of the Games without much incidence, slowly mending parts of himself. He had left the Capitol with Zion, spending most of his time in his room, trying to remember the details of the past couple of weeks. 

Finley’s funeral was a large affair, the swatch of trees that signified one of Ten’s graveyard filled with people ready to mourn for the young girl. Birch had made sure to dress appropriately, wearing a pale green shirt and a pink tie with bunnies, hoping that wherever Finn was, she liked it. He spoke at the funeral, Finley’s notebook clutched in his hands. His words were meaningful and, despite everything, they had been laced with some double meanings. 

Ten was in a state of uneasiness. Peacekeepers were everywhere and the citizens were trying to do their business as usual. Some unrest was popping up from time to time, particularly the couple of days after Finley’s funeral. Birch was uneasy, but he put his mind at rest by going for rides, doing some multiple-night ranching trips, and spending time with his family. 

It was a normal day when Birch stepped into the normally bustling kitchen of the Pembrooke’s Victor Home. The kitchen, however, was empty, a pan left on a burner on the stove. Confused, Birch moved to turn off the burner and placed the pan in the sink. It was a little eerie not hearing his parents or his siblings. “Ansel, where is everyone? I know your sorry butt hasn’t gotten up this morning.” 

There was no response and Birch made his way down the hall to the ajar door to the office. He felt a breeze come down the hall, which was odd. His family didn’t often use the office, much less open the windows to let in a breeze in there. Birch pushed open the door and let out a surprised gasp. 

Sitting at the desk was President Coriolanus Snow. 

Birch quickly rearranged his face into calm, even though his mind was screaming. Snow, here? In Ten? His house? This was not good for him or his family. His eyes swept the rest of the room to see his family gathered on the couch and chairs that were against the back wall of the office. A Peacekeeper stood on either side of his family. 

June met his eyes and he could feel what she was thinking. Don’t do anything else stupid. His mother, father, and Ansel were also sitting. His eyes returned to President Snow, who smiled with just his lips and gestured for him to sit down in the chair on the other side of the desk. 

Birch obliged. He settled in the chair, slowly bringing his head to meet President Snow’s eyes. They were old, crinkled, and full of menace. “Good morning, Mr. Pembrooke. It’s nice for you to finally join us.” The chair creaked as President Snow leaned forward to place his folded hands on the desk. “I’ve had a long journey and was hoping to get a tour of your town before I head back to the Capitol.” 

“Thank you for waiting for me, President Snow.” Birch had no idea what was going on, but felt that not offending the most powerful man in Panem would be a good start. “And we can arrange a tour for you before you leave.”

A silence filled the room as they all waited for their President to speak. It was as if all of their lives hinged on his next few words. The frightening thing was that that was a possibility. “I’m sure you have seen the unrest that has fallen upon your District,” President Snow started. “We are very concerned that the citizens here could be hurt in all of this unpleasantness. You, Mr. Pembrooke are revered here. And to be frank, they listen and look up to you.”

The meaning of the President’s words were not lost on Birch. He tensed, waiting for the reason Snow had made the journey all the way out to District Ten. 

“There has been much discussion among myself and my advisors as how to address the few individuals who are spreading lies and dissent.” He paused, the gravity of his words almost shifting the breeze to where he sat in the room. “Every year during our Hunger Games, the great nation of Panem sees the honour and sacrifice it takes to continue to prosper. We must also show them that we have much love to give as well.”

“So, Birch Pembrooke, you have the honour of being our very first suitor on a new reality television show that will be broadcast to every television set in Panem. You will choose a wife in real time from a pool of hand-picked women and eventually you should be wed.”

A stunned silence fell upon the room. 

“My advisors have lovingly named it The Birchelor. I have no love for it, but they assured me that Panem would love it and so would you.” 

Birch couldn’t stop his jaw from opening slightly. He quickly brought himself back to a calm, intent gaze, but there was fear in his eyes now. 

“Along with starring in a Capitol television show, we would be showing off how wonderful District Ten is during your tenure as the lead. We want to show off how wonderful and happy your home is.” President Snow’s hand shifted slightly, causing Birch’s gaze to momentarily move to it. There was a slight tremble to his hand, but Birch’s eyes had already returned to Snow’s face. “I’m sure your family will want to be a part of your journey to find love.” 

“Not only that, but we will need them to move into their previous home. A young man as successful as yourself cannot bring your betrothed to a home where you only have one room to yourself.” President Snow folded his hands over one another and locked his intense gaze with Birch’s frightened one. “It is an honour to pick a life partner among the people of the Capitol. You are one of the lucky ones that gets to show the rest of Panem how much love there is in our beloved country.”

No one spoke. President Snow leaned back into his chair and rested his hands on his stomach. He did not smile, but his eyes had a warm glow to them. He let the news process for a moment, before he made the move to stand, his hand moving to the inside of his jacket pocket. He produced a small manila envelope and laid it on the table. 

Birch made a move to stand, as did the rest of his family. “Is that all President Snow?” Terry asked, the older man full of resolve and command even in the presence of this intimidating figure. 

President Snow did not deign to answer that question, merely moving to the other side of the desk. It was Birch that remembered the President’s other request. “I can take you on a tour -” 

“Actually, I would prefer if the young lady would take me on the tour. I’m sure she knows the town better than you. Since you have other responsibilities that take you away from your District.” He held out his gloved hand to June, who took it, a look of concern flitting across her face, before an easy smile replaced it. “June, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, President Snow. I will show you our lovely town.” Snow gestured for her to take his elbow. 

“I am sure, Mr. Pembrooke, that your family will have their belongings moved shortly. And you will be ready to return to the Capitol in three days.” President Snow gestured for the Peacekeepers surrounding Birch’s family to head out the door. He gave the family an easy smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“We can’t disappoint Panem, now can we?” 

[menalliha]

Getaway Trip

Summary: Chris treats you to a trip of a life time and surprises you.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2.6K (Got carried away a bit)

Warning: Smut!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!!!

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long!! I had it started then it ended up on the back burner because of some personal issues! But here it is lovely!! I really hope you like it. I know my smut is like awful!! So please forgive me!   I requested a one shot of Chris and the reader in Rome, but now that I've been to Firenze and and I got this felling that the city is so romantic. Specially the Vechio Bridge with the jewellers stores. So if you haven't written yet, can you change it to Firenze instead of Rome? Like they walk through the bridge and all and maybe he bought her a ring or necklace or something? Cute, romantic and smut in the same one? Thank you so much.

MY MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Florence was one of the places you have always wanted to go. It’s always beautiful. Venice is so beautiful as well as Rome.You never pressured Chris into going since he’s been busy with filming and such. You hated being a bother about traveling. You knew he was busy and didn’t have time to leave the country unless it was on business. But one day he surprised you.

You came home to a bunch of luggage packed by the door. Luggage that had your stuff in it. You unzipped and rummaged through the bags and saw mostly your things. Fear started to sit in. You two have been together for well over 2 years, almost 3 in a week. You always talked your issues out with each other.

“Chris… if this is your way of telling me to leave… I got the hint…” Setting your purse on the counter. You heard him upstairs in your bedroom making so much noise. You really hoped he was alone. You couldn’t take the pain of walking in on him having an affair. There were already rumors about him with all these women, him being a playboy and sleeping around. “Chris…” You yelled a bit louder than before. You swore you heard him swear followed by him running down the stairs.

“Hey baby! I didn’t expect you home so soon. I uh…” He turned his attention to the doorway. “You’re uh… you’re probably wondering about the uh… bags huh?” Running his hands through his hair, he was clearly out of breath and trying to play it cool.

Raising your eyebrows, you nod. “Yeah… you want me out that bad…? You packed my stuff?” You were trying to hide the hurt in your voice. “It’s bad enough about the rumors… I don’t want them to be true and what we have be a lie.” You mumble and cross your arms.

Chris gave you a confused look. “What? What rumors?” Waving his hands, he reached into a duffle bag on the floor. “They don’t matter. I always come home to you. I planned on surprising you better but… I have loads of free time now and I managed to get you off of work… we have tickets to go to Florence!! The one place you’ve always wanted to go!” He held up two plane tickets and moved them in your face.

Your jaw dropped as you snatched the tickets from him. “How long will we be there??” You look at the toothy grin on Chris’ face.

“About two weeks.” He pulls you close and caresses your cheek.

“You realize what next week is right?”

He started to think long and hard. “You know… there’s a date in my head that’s like… sticking out but I don’t remember the significance of it. I have no idea what it is. Must not be that important.” He started to smile and laugh.

You smacked his chest and poured. “Christopher! It’s our three year anniversary!” He pressed a gently kiss to your forehead. “It’s been an amazing three years.” You played with the collar on his jacket.

Here recently, you two were talking about marriage and when the right time was. Right wasn’t with Chris having movies and press tours coming up. He wanted to wait till everything slowed down here in the next year to get married. But little did you know that was part of the surprise for you.

The first whole week there was just a bunch of sightseeing during the day and endless love making at night. Then followed by slow morning sex. Chris was always a gentle lover, knew all your spots and what got you off easily.

This morning was different. He only wanted to please you. Make you feel good and happy and it was also your anniversary. He had the whole day planned around you. Which was why he was he was between your thighs, his hands keeping your legs spread and his mouth attacking your sensitive little bundle of nerves for well over an hour.

Your back was arching off the bed, your fingers tangled in his hair. Moans escaping your lips as your release grew near. The coil in your stomach started to tighten as the icy hot sensation spread through your veins.

“Chris,” You moaned. “I-I’m close!” He never stopped or let up. He kept attacking your bud until you were pulling on his hair, earning a small growl from his chest and screaming his name. He slowly started to back off as he helped you ride out your release.

Leaving you a withering mess, Chris stood up and wiped his chin of your release. He couldn’t help but smirk at what he did. He always loved making you feel good over him. He likes to make up for lost time when he’s away from you filming and on press tours.

Chris made his way to the bathroom and started a shower, making it nice and warm for you. Walking back to the bed, he gently picked you up and took you to the bathroom. “We need to get cleaned up and ready for the day. It’s like past eleven. I have the whole day planned baby.”

Hiding your face in the crook of his neck, you gently kissed his neck and rubbed his broad shoulders. Your lips ghosted over his tattoo on his chest, causing him to let out a small moan. “But… what if I want to please you right now? You made me feel good. It’s only fair.”

Chris set your down gently and watched you walk into the shower, playfully smacking your bottom. “You know… having your pretty little lips wrapped around my cock sounds so amazing. I was hard before but…” He followed you into the shower and watched as you dropped to your knees. “Love when you suck me off.”

Carefully caressing his length, you wrapped both your hands around his length and rubbed his slowly. His eyes fluttered shut and his mouth hung open a bit, blissful moans leaving his lips. Smirking, you licked his tip, taking the small bead of precum into your mouth, your hands never stopping the motions they are doing.

“Baby, I’m sorry but I need you to either move a little faster or I’ll take it into my own hands.” His once blue eyes stared down at you as they were lust blown. “I know you like it when I fuck your mouth.”

Taking his hands, you placed them in your hair and you opened your mouth. You looked up at him, lust in your eyes, wanting him to be forceful. Chris growled and gently moved his cock into your mouth till he hit the back of your throat and your nose was pressed against his pelvis, tightening his grip on your hair.

Laying your hands on his thighs, you stared up at him as tears started to roll down your cheeks. Feeling him pull out, giving you a moment to breath, he smirked. You know this was going to be great.

Shoving his cock back into your mouth, he set a slightly rough pace as he fucked your mouth. Making moans escape his lip as he hit the back of your throat with the head of his cock each time. From time to time he would pause as his cock was in your mouth, feeling your throat vibrate as you moaned. You knew he loved that feeling so you never failed to deliver it.

“Oh god baby girl, I’m gonna cum down that pretty throat of yours. You better swallow every last bit too. Don’t want you wasting any. I’m so close baby. I hope your ready for this.” Feeling his cock swell in your mouth, you closed your eyes as your prepared for the warm goodness that was about to be released into your mouth.

His thrusts got sloppy and his breathing increased even more. As his release hit, he shoved his cock down your throat, spilling his seed until every last drop was out.

He pressed his back against the shower wall and tried to catch his breath. “Damn baby… your mouth is just… wow. Tonight will be amazing.” Chris helped you to your feet and kisses your cheek. “How does your throat feel?”

Shaking your head, you rubbed your throat. “A little sore and hoarse but it’ll be ok by time lunch comes.”

As the next hour almost went by fast, you and Chris went shopping. He got you a new dress and let you roam around the stores while he went into a few by himself. Little did you know one of the stores was a jewelry store. He was getting a ring that was going to be specially engraved for you.

Chris didn’t lie when he said he had the evening all planned out. He took you to a fancy restaurant and got you the best wine while you both were dressed to impress. The food was amazing and it exceeded your expectations.

Taking your hand in his, Chris kissed each knuckle. “Happy anniversary honey. These three years have been so amazing. Not going to lie, I didn’t think you would stick around this long. Having to deal with months of me being gone and such. I knew it got rough and even rougher with those rumors and everything. But we made it through it.”

Tears slowly gathered in your eyes as the sweet words he had said to you. “Happy anniversary to you too baby. Honestly, I never thought you would be into such a boring girl like me. Your friends even think I’m cool. I don’t do much but go to work, come home and eat and sleep.” Taking your napkin, you gently dabbed the tears away.

“You are an amazing woman and I am very thankful to have you.” Kissing your cheek, Chris got up from the table and paid for the dinner. “Come on I have one more surprise for you. I know you’ll love it.”

Walking around for a little bit, you made your way to Vecchio Bridge. It was beautiful, even at night when it was lit up. You noticed that Chris was checking his watch constantly as you stood in one of the opening of the bridge. You only shrugged it off and looked over at the beautiful scenery. The building in Florence were made with rustic and authentic looking. The fact that some overlook the water made it even better.

Chris gently placed his hands on your hips. “Keep watching baby, the last surprise is about to happen.” Letting you go, he watched as your face lit up when the fireworks went off. But those were only a distraction.

He got down on one knee and pulled out a small velvet box. Gently taking your hand in his, he turned you around slowly. “Y/N, for three years you have made me a happy man. For three years you have stuck by my side.” Your eyes widened at the sight in front of you. Covering your mouth, you couldn’t help but actually sob. “Will you do me the honor and stick by my side even longer? Will you marry me?”

Nodding your head, you pull Chris up and kiss him deeply. “Yes, a thousand times yes. I will marry you.”

Pulling you back into a loving kiss, his lips traveled down you neck and to your ear. “Let’s head back to the hotel and celebrate baby. Our first time as an engaged couple.” You can feel his smirk on your skin as you shivered at his words.

It didn’t take long to get back to the hotel or for your clothes to be stripped off of you both.

Chris hovered over you as he bottomed out inside you, giving you that burning sensation when he did, feeling your walls clench around him. He took one of your peeked nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it while he pinched and rolled the other between his index finger and thumb.

“Please baby,” You moaned as you ran your fingers in his hair.

Chris let go of your nipple with a loud pop. “Please what baby? I need you to be specific.” He rolled his hips once, a smirk playing on his lips.

Whining, your back arched and lifted your hips to get more friction. “Please move. I need you to move. I want to feel you move.”

Giving you a hungry kiss, he snaked his tongue into your mouth and pulled his hips back. You gasped against his mouth as you felt his move along your walls. He couldn’t help but smirk as he snapped his hip forwards, causing you to yelp.

“Is that better?” Chris asked against her lips. He kept up that same pace which left you speechless.

His pace stayed the same, slowly and rough. He kept dragging his length against your walls and snapping his hips. Even he had to admit this pace was slow and agonizing for him. But he liked going slow and taking his time.

Sitting up, he hooked his hands under your knees and pushed them back more, opening you up even more. Giving him a new angle to hit your sweet spot. This was all about making your feel good and loved.

He watched as you gave soundless moans. Your mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, your eyes tightly shut. He loved the fact only he could ever make you feel this way. He also knew this way would make you orgasim faster.

Pressing his thumb against your clit, your body tensed at the sensation. He started to slowly make small circles against your clit. Chris watched as your body was starting to shake.

You felt the coil in your stomach start to tighten with each thrust he made and each circle he made on your clit. “Chris, baby, I’m close.”

“Oh no, you can’t cum yet. I want us to come at the same time.” Chris picked up the pace and made his thrusts a little faster and harder. Snapping his hips against your at a bruising pace. He also quickened his pace on your clit, feeling your walls clench around him. “You can do it baby. You’re doing so well. It won’t be much longer I swear.”

Grabbing the bed sheets, you tried so hard to keep yourself from orgasming that your whole body started to shake. The coil in your stomach was so tight, you knew it was going to snap soon. “Please baby… I-I can’t last much longer.” Feeling his length swell inside you, you knew it was time.  

He kissed you passionately and lovingly. Moaning against your lips, his thrusts started to turn sloppy signaling his release. “Ok baby,” He grunted. “You can cum now, I’ll follow you.”

That was music to your ears. The coil snapped, your vision went blurry as you saw stars. Your back arched and a scream left your throat that sounded like his name. But soon as your walls clenched around him, his release followed. Coating your walls with his seed, he moaned and your name left his lip.

Panting slowly, you whine as Chris fell next to you, leaving you feeling empty. He pulled you close to him and pulled the covers over your both.

“That was amazing.” You sighed into his chest.

Chris couldn’t help but chuckled. “It always is. You’re an amazing person to make love too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You slowly fell into a deep slumber to the sound of Chris’ heartbeat. The sound that usually calmed you after a night of making love.

TAGS:

@patzammit

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[sunniebelle]

My Golden Valentine

Tentoo x Rose

The Doctor works diligently to give Rose a Valentine's Day experience she will never forget.

A03, TSP, Deviantart, FF.net

Rose Tyler’s day had been decidedly unpleasant, frustrating, and stressful. It seemed like one thing after another had gone wrong, and just when she thought things were looking up, something else would happen to prove her wrong. The icing to the cake had been the unexpected field assignment in which she almost lost a member of her team.

What she really needed was a cuppa and a hug from her Doctor. She knew the latter would help her forget her awful day. She would have visited him in his workshop at Torchwood earlier in the day, but he had taken the day off today for a reason he refused to reveal to her.

Rose pulled into the carpark of the flat she shared with her half-human, half-Time Lord Doctor. She walked to the flat’s side entrance and slid her key into the lock of the door with a tired sigh, then moved through the entry hall that deadened into the kitchen. She set her bag down on a chair, stripped off her leather jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. Tea was her first order of business and she pulled out her favorite mug and the tea container and walked over to the stove to turn the burner on under the kettle.

A flash of color in her peripherals caught her attention, though, and she turned to look at the kitchen table, causing her to promptly forget everything she was previously doing. She was thankful she didn’t have anything in her hands, since she was sure that she would not have been able to hold anything, given her shock.

The round kitchen table had a gold lace table cloth draped over it and a thin layer of red rose petals were scattered across the intricate lace pattern. Sitting atop the petals was the most beautiful potted plant she thought she had ever seen. It was an orchid, a red orchid. The sight drew her in; she walked toward the table a bit dazed. When she was close enough, she bent slightly to inhale the lovely fragrance of the flowers, before her fingers gently caressed the tender petals of the naturally drooping plant. The color and the beauty of the plant were so mesmerizing it took her a moment to even notice the pink cardstock and envelope leaning against the base of the plant.

She picked up the pink paper with a smile lighting her face. The first thing she noticed was the two gold roses embossed into opposite corners of the card, with curling ivy trailing the sides of the paper. Then she saw the fine, flowing script in the center, written in black ink. It read:

My Golden Rose,

Will you be my Valentine?

Your Doctor

Rose wasn’t aware of how big her smile had gotten until her cheeks started to ache.

She loved being able to make that claim, that the Doctor was hers, and she loved to hear him declare that she was his own; but to see the two declarations from him in writing, made her heart flutter slightly.

“Oh, that wonderful man,” she murmured to herself.

Her fingers traced the intricate pattern on the card and the Doctor’s writing for a moment, before turning her attention to the pink envelope still on the table. Inside she pulled out a small bundle of papers. Looking through them she found two first class zeppelin tickets from London to Fairbanks, Alaska and an information packet regarding their accommodations at a private cabin they would evidently be staying in.

“So, what’d’ya think?” the Doctor asked suddenly, making Rose look up quickly. “Would you like to go on an adventure with me?” he asked.

She studied him a moment as he leaned against the wall looking completely at ease, but she could see the worried gleam in his eye, the fear that she might refuse him. As though she would ever refuse the Doctor! Especially when he had obviously put so much time and effort into a gesture that was so romantic and thoughtful. She felt her love for this man swell to the point she thought she might burst.

Rose put the papers she was still holding down and walked over to him quickly. He pushed off from the wall as she moved toward him, his arms encircling her waist as her arms looped around his neck. She surprised him by suddenly pulling his head down as she raised herself up, her lips meeting his in a hard kiss; it quickly turned into a long and passionate kiss that left them both dizzy with the intensity of it.

Rose finally before pulled back with a soft popping noise and looked at her Doctor. She was satisfied to see a dazed look to his eyes and wanted to giggle at the way he had to clear his throat before speaking.

“Should I take that as a yes, then?” he asked in a gruff whisper.

“’S a definite yes,” she said with an amused smile, before adding, “It was also a thank you.”

He tilted his head and asked, “What for?”

“For making my exceptionally bad day so much better. And for making me feel special and loved,” she said, running her hand through the hair at the back of his neck.

He held her a little closer and said, “I’m sorry you had a bad day, but I’m glad that I could help make it better.”

He kissed her softly once more then peppered her face with kisses as he whispered, “You are special, and brilliant, and beautiful, and I love you, Rose Tyler.” By the time he was finished pressing light kisses to her face, she was giggling with happiness.

“I love you too, my Doctor,” she whispered back, capturing his lips with hers again.

The Doctor offered to fix her a cuppa while she got comfortable, to which she readily agreed. When she had changed into more comfortable clothing, they settled together on the couch and he explained a bit more of his plans to her.

“We leave for Alaska in three days.  I’ve already cleared your schedule with Pete, who also promised he would not let Jackie or Torchwood disturb us for the week and a half we are on vacation,” he said, then paused a moment before continuing, “I know our first Valentine’s Day in this universe was not really good and that was my fault. I wanted to make it up to you this year.”

Rose’s traitorous mind went back to their first Valentine’s Day in Pete’s World.

It had only been a few weeks since the day she had found her Doctor, since they had fought and saved the whole of reality, and since she and the metacrisis Doctor had been left behind in Pete’s World. The first couple of weeks were the most difficult, while they were getting used to being together again.

Rose felt like they were both walking on thin ice when they were around each other, but she tried her best to be understanding and patient. After all, the Doctor was adjusting to a new, part-human body, with ever-so-slightly different emotions and patterns of thinking, and a whole host of new human hormones. His TARDIS was gone—at least until the new one was grown—and with it his ability to travel through time and space, forcing him to live life on the slow path. And all of this in a completely different universe.

She had gone through some very similar things when she had been trapped in Pete’s World, but she at least had several years to adjust.

However, her breaking point arrived on Valentine’s Day. She spent a good portion of the day cooking him a special dinner and his favorite desert, banana cream pie.

When he asked what the special occasion was, in regards to the special dinner, she stared at him for several long moments not knowing what to say. The longer she stayed quiet, the more worried he became, realizing he had blundered, but unsure what he had done wrong.

“’S...’S Valentine’s Day,” she said in a hesitant whisper. She’d thought the holiday was important to them, since they had celebrated it for the first time shortly before she was trapped in Pete’s World.

He sheepishly admitted that he had forgotten the holiday, in all the confusion of getting used to a new universe and new body.

Almost immediately she dissolved into tears, no longer able to hold in her very real fears of being left behind and feeling very unwanted.

The Doctor silently cursed himself and called himself every type of fool as he apologized profusely. He held her and reassured her repeatedly that he loved her very much, did want her and always would, and that he would never leave her and never abandon her. It took some time, but she finally quieted and they enjoyed the meal she had prepared.

However, this situation was  the catalyst for them having a much needed conversation. They both laid their fears and expectations down and were completely open and honest—this was something the Doctor had never been very good at or willing to do, but after seeing Rose so distraught and utterly crushed by his thoughtlessness, he was willing to do anything to make her understand how much he needed her and loved her.

After their talk, they both felt like they were finally able to take their first steps toward feeling normal with each other again.

Rose pushed the memories aside and snuggled deeper into the Doctor’s side and sipped her tea.

“You’ve already made it up to me, just by remembering,” she assured him, “and I don’t know that I’ve ever seen such gorgeous flowers. It’s all wonderful. Thank you, Doctor.”

The Doctor bent his head down and kissed her softly, then she laid her head on his chest with a contented sigh.  

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

Five days later Rose and the Doctor walked into their cabin and Rose instantly fell in love with the rustic but elegant design. It looked like a plain log cabin from the outside, but the inside was charming, cozy, and had multiple windows which nicely illuminated the dark wood furnishings and light wood walls and floors. A white plush sofa situated in front of the fireplace looked very inviting and Rose imagined that she would enjoy curling up against the Doctor in front of a roaring fire at night.

She also admired the white down bedding on the King size mattress. Before she could allow her mind to wander too far into what she envisioned the two of them doing on that bed, she walked over to the Doctor and wound her arms around his waist and placed her cheek against his chest, enjoying the steady rhythm of his single heartbeat. It had taken her a while to get used to hearing it rather the staccato of the double heartbeat, but the sound was now familiar and comforting.

“Thank you for this, Doctor. ’S lovely,” she said as she drew back to look at his smiling face. Evidently he was very pleased with himself over his plans coming together and her enjoyment of them.

“I’m glad you think so. This was a place that I had always wanted to take you and you’ll see why by the end of our trip,” he said as he waggled his eyebrows.

“You think you’re so impressive,” she said, with a teasing smile.

“Oi! I am so impressive!” he retorted, his voice squeaking slightly as he faked offense.

Her smile turned coy and she added a seductive lilt to her voice, “Are you planning to impress me with your moves, Doctor?”

“If my memory serves me correctly, Rose Tyler, I’ve impressed you quite a few times with my moves. ’Course, I wouldn’t want to boast,” he said as his hands lowered to her hips and pulled her closer. A shiver ran through her as a warm sensation spiraled through her. 

She couldn’t help but remember a conversation they’d had long ago that was very similar to this, and she smiled in fond remembrance of her first Doctor, almost hearing his Northern accent as they flirted.

“Yes, Doctor, I must admit you are quite impressive,” she said, giving him the tongue-touched smile he could rarely resist, just before he captured her lips with his own.

She sighed in pleasure as he deepened the kiss. Rose didn’t think she would ever tire of the tingling and slightly dizzying sensation that always swept through her when her Doctor kissed her.

Several moments later they parted to breathe and the Doctor reluctantly stepped away, but took her hand within his and linked their fingers.

“Come on. Let the adventure begin!” he said, his voice gruff from their passionate kiss, but his smile was huge as he exclaimed, “Allons-y!”

The rest of the day was spent visiting the Alaskan History Museum and the House Art Gallery. Rose enjoyed hearing the Doctor’s lectures on the artifacts, the native people and their culture, the history of Fairbanks and of Alaska itself—and several other rambling commentaries he got off on.

Twice Rose had to fight back a smile as she stopped the Doctor from correcting a tour guide on certain points of history, quietly reminding him that they were in an alternate universe and that it probably happened differently here than in the main universe.

The warmth of the buildings was a welcome relief from the bitter February temperatures outside. She took advantage of every opportunity to hold the Doctor’s hand and loved the few times he draped his arm over her shoulders.

After they enjoyed their dinner reservations, they sat together cuddled in front of the fire enjoying a cuppa. Rose had made certain to pack tea for this trip, since she knew this was one comfort she didn’t want to be without for a week and a half. She and the Doctor watched the fire dance across the wood in the stone fireplace, enjoying its warmth and each other’s company.

It wasn’t long before Rose felt herself start to drift between reality and a dream world; the combination of leaving all the worries of her job behind, the long zeppelin ride, the busyness of the day exploring, was all working together to lull her to sleep. The comforting and relaxing sound of the Doctor’s heartbeat was also helping sleep’s grip on her.

She thought she was dreaming when she felt the Doctor lifting her into his arms and carrying her, but when she felt the cool, velvety softness of the sheets, she realized she must have dozed off and he had carried her to bed.

She murmured a sleepy thank you to him and hummed in pleasure when she felt him spoon against her, and press a kiss to her neck as he wrapped an arm around her waist. She slipped into a peaceful sleep soon after, dreaming of hearing the Doctor tell her he loved her and calling her his lovely Golden Rose.

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

For the rest of their week and a half long vacation, their days were filled with sightseeing and their evenings were spent relaxing together in the comfort of each other’s arms in front of the fireplace. Not wanting to waste time with guided tours and buses, the Doctor rented a car to take them to the destinations he had planned.

He took Rose to the Wedgewood Wildlife Sanctuary and they had a grand time walking around the reserve, marveling at the beauty of the land and animals in their natural habitat. Rose was amazed by the number of bird species they saw at the Migratory Waterfowl Refuge. (She was a only slightly surprised when he pointed out a couple of species which were actually native to the Pestrilia and Mecacarro Galaxies, having found the atmosphere of Earth more conducive to their breeding and hatching needs.)

They went to the Reindeer Ranch and Rose doubled over laughing when one of the bulls got offended by something the Doctor said—of course, this was after he had boasted about being able to speak a multitude of languages, one of them being reindeer. It wasn’t long before they realized they would have to make a run for it or risk being gored by giant antlers or trampled by hooves. Rose was unsurprised, but happy nonetheless, that even on holiday they wound up hand-in-hand, running for their lives.

They both enjoyed the thrill of being pulled by a team of Alaskan huskies and also enjoyed racing each other down a ski slope. One of Rose’s favorite times was enjoying a long soak in the hot springs, but even more so when the Doctor joined her and massaged her back and shoulders.

When Valentine’s Day was only a day away, the Doctor told Rose to dress warmly and they took a drove for a good clip into an unpopulated mountainous area. Upon arriving at the Doctor’s secret location, he collected a picnic basket full of food and a couple of thick blankets from the boot.

“I’ve purposefully saved the best part of the vacation for last,” he said mysteriously as he walked with her to a clearing that was surrounded by tall mountains. He told her that for his surprise to work, it was best if they were well away from light pollution.

The Doctor and Rose spread out their blanket just as the sun dipped below the horizon. They sat close together as they ate a spread of various meats, cheeses, crackers, fruit, and their favorite red wine.

After packing up their meal, they lie on their backs and draped the other blanket over themselves. With the sun gone the temperature had dropped, so Rose snuggled close to her Doctor for extra warmth as they gazed at the night sky.

She realized how right the Doctor had been about light pollution, since the sky was filled to bursting with stars. There were so many, she had trouble finding a darkened space where there weren’t any.

The Doctor pointed to several places he wanted to take Rose as soon as the TARDIS was fully grown. Some of the destinations were places they had been to in the main universe, but others were places he had wanted to take her and that he planned to do so in the near future.

Rose was slightly startled a few minutes later when she suddenly saw a streak of green shoot across the sky. They both watched in silent awe as one color after another danced across the starlit sky. She had seen the Northern lights a couple of times in her life, but as the Doctor had mentioned earlier, lights of the city dulled the experience of it.

She loved when the Doctor rambles on with lectures about how things work and loves to listen to his voice, so she quietly asks him about the Aurora Borealis. He obliges and tells her about the differences between the northern and southern Borealis’, how the gases in the atmosphere trigger the process. He then tells her about other planets with similar natural phenomenas, while some  don’t have the proper atmosphere, but enjoy the  Aurora Borealis so much that they simulate their own light shows.

Listening to her Doctor talk while lying beneath the vast expanse of the sky, while brilliant neon red, green, purple, and yellow lights blazed across the sky, Rose knew that this was an experience she would never forget.

She looked over at the Doctor and found him studying her face in the shifting light, his face declaring his adoration and love for his pink and yellow human, his Golden Rose. Just when she was about to lean forward and kiss him, he suddenly lept to his feet in a gracefully swift move, and held a hand out for her.

“Come on,” he said softly, holding out his hand to her, “dance with me. It’s not every day you get to do so beneath the light of the Aurora Borealis.” She smiled at him and was unable to refuse such a charming and romantic gesture.

Though there was no music, they moved together in a slow waltz as the Doctor serenaded her with “Love Me Tender,” “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You,” and other romantic Elvis Presley songs.  Rose could feel herself falling even more in love with her Doctor with every passing moment.

As their waltz slowed to a gentle swaying rhythm, she laid her head down on his chest and felt his voice vibrate through her as he held her close and sang to her.

Later when they stopped moving, pausing to look up at the sky, they saw that the colors were still dancing across the stars.

“Midnight,” the Doctor murmured suddenly, causing her to look at him questioningly. He looked down at her and said, “It’s midnight, meaning it’s now officially Valentine’s Day.”

He lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Rose Tyler.” She shivered as he said her name, the way he seemed to caress it as it left his mouth.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my Doctor,” she whispered back to him, tilting her head up to accept his kiss.

In that moment, she was happier than she had ever been in her life. She put all the happiness and love she felt for him into their kiss.

Rose Tyler knew that she would never forget this experience with her Doctor and that it would be a memory that she would treasure forever.

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

Notes: Written for @doctorrosepromtps on Tumblr. Prompt: Valentine’s Day

Also written for Unseen-Writers’ Theme of the Week: Aurora Borealis on Deviant Art

Research references for Aurora Borealis and Fairbanks, Alaska:

thriftynomads.com/best-places-see-northern-lights/  

thriftynomads.com/best-places-see-northern-lights/#The_best_places_to_see_the_Northern_Lights

and

tripadvisor.com/Attractions-g60826-Activities-Fairbanks_Alaska.html

[myaekingheart]

33. Better than Instant Ramen

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3

index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

Here's the video for the recipe Rei and Kakashi make together!

               Kakashi was determined to make this a perfect night. He and Rei had been busy with their work, so much so that they had hardly seen each other for weeks. Whenever he did catch sight of her, she looked absolutely exhausted. Her hair was even messier than usual, she dragged her feet, and there were dark circles under her eyes. He left a bag of pastries at her doorstep, per usual, with an invitation slapped on the bag: My apartment. Dinner. Friday night. 6pm. It was obviously an offer she couldn’t possibly refuse.

                He spent the entire afternoon preparing dinner, so that his apartment by now smelled incredible. He pulled back the curtains so that there was a stunning view of the stars overhead, and even cracked the window open to let in some fresh air. He lit a few candles, then began tidying the books on his shelf when she knocked on the door.

               She looked exhausted but had a huge grin on her face as she leapt into his arms and hugged him tightly. “God, I’ve missed you” she sighed into his chest. He hugged her back just as tightly, then ushered her inside. “It smells incredible in here” she commented, surveying the room. He was clearly aiming to achieve a romantic aura, and quite frankly she would say he succeeded. She kicked off her shoes and approached the kitchen, eager to peek in the oven and see what he was cooking. Before she could catch a glance, though, Kakashi slid in front of her and blocked her view.

               “Why would you want to go and ruin the surprise?” he asked. He placed his hands on her shoulders, spun her around, and guided her to the table. She sat in the nearest chair, looking up at him with a playful pout as if she was a child who was just reprimanded. “Relax. You look exhausted, so tonight I’m going to treat you.”

               “What about you?” she asked as he made his way back to the kitchen. “You’ve been working your ass off, too. Aren’t you tired?”

               “Yes” he answered, then added, “But I’ve been doing this far longer than you have. I’ve gotten used to it.” The timer dinged, and Rei attempted to take a peek at whatever Kakashi was pulling out of the oven but he effectively blocked her view. Defeated, she leaned back in her chair and sighed as she awaited dinner. After a few minutes, Kakashi set down two platters of fish and a bottle of sake. He gave Rei that signature masked smile as he sat down across from her, and with locked eyes they ceremoniously chanted Itadaakimasu.

               Rei closed her eyes and smiled as she took that first bite of food. She remembered Kakashi being a skilled chef as far back as their childhood, but it was starkly different experiencing the food firsthand after so many years. His skill had drastically improved. “This is so much better than instant ramen every night” she sighed.

               Kakashi swallowed his bite, then asked, “You eat instant ramen every night?” Rei shrugged a casual yes. “But don’t you cook at all?”

               “I mean, on days off sometimes I’ll make an omelet or rice or something if I care enough but most days…” she started, then groaned and shook her head. “Cooking is too much work. Why waste my energy when my microwave can literally give me dehydrated noodles in a cup in a matter of minutes?”

               “You know you can’t live off of instant ramen for the rest of your life, right?” Kakashi asked.

               Rei shrugged. “Lots of people do it. Like that little menace who always splatters paint on Hokage Rock. I’m sure he eats exclusively ramen. I see him at Ichiraku all the time.”

               “You see my point” Kakashi replied.

               “Okay, well what do you expect me to do?” Rei asked. “Actually cook?”

               “That’s what everyone else does” Kakashi countered.

               A sly smile touched Rei’s lips as she looked down at her plate and picked apart another piece of fish. “I mean, you could just cook for me for the rest of your life” she chuckled.

               “And what about when I’m gone?” he asked. “What are you going to do then?”

               Rei then raised her chopsticks high above her head in a terrible sense of triumph and shouted, “Instant ramen!”

               Kakashi rubbed his forehead in distress, but he was chuckling all the while. “You’re a lost cause, you know that?” he said. Rei simply shrugged and took another bite of her food, but deep down something within Kakashi was taking root. Hadn’t her parents taught her anything? Knowing Hana and Yuruganai, the chances were slim. As much as Hana yearned for her daughter to become a housewife and mother, she also yearned for her daughter to stay put for as long as possible. From what he had seen, he was certain she babied Rei in terms of housework for ages just to keep her trapped there. It was simply’s a mother desperation, even if it was harmful in the end. He hated to think he would have to teach her everything, but he knew there was at least one thing he could take the responsibility of.

               Come midnight, Rei decided she ought to head back to her apartment but not without a goodnight kiss first. “This was really great. We should definitely do this again” she sighed, foreheads pressed together. Kakashi smiled.

               “How about next week?” he offered. She furrowed her brow a moment, calculating what she knew so far of her work schedule, then grinned up at him and accepted the offer. He smiled back. “Then it’s a date.”

               Rei arrived right on time the following Friday night, exhausted and fully prepared to sit back and just enjoy another great meal with her boyfriend. When she entered his apartment, however, there was no incredible fragrance, and nothing in the oven. Rather, there was an array of raw food set out across the countertop and a frying pan on the stove. “Uh…are we having sushi or something?” Rei asked. Kakashi chuckled and shook his head.

               “Nope” he replied, guiding her into the kitchen.

               “I thought you were having me over for dinner” she said, trying to mask her disappointment.

               Kakashi grinned underneath his mask. “I am, but this time you’re cooking it!”

               Rei’s face fell. “K-Kakashi, but I don’t know how—” she stammered, but the copy ninja lifted a finger to quiet her and interrupted.

               “That’s why I’m going to teach you” he said.

               The redhead slumped her shoulders and groaned. “But why? This is so much work!”

               “Rei” he replied sternly, “Learning to cook is essential to living on your own. You’re going to have to learn sooner or later.”

               Crossing her arms, she pouted and averted her eyes from him, muttering, “I can’t believe you’d deceive me like this.”

               Kakashi, however, just chuckled and pulled her closer so that she was squarely in front of the counter. “Step one is preparation. I’m going to need you to cut up all of these vegetables” he explained, holding up a knife. Before her sat carrots, cabbage, and a large onion, most of which she couldn’t even begin to comprehend how to cut because they were all round. When Kakashi noticed the hesitance on her face, however, he wedged the knife into her hands and then slid in behind her so that he could guide her through the motions.

               Rei of course did her fair share of complaining the entire time, saying this was far too much work and asking why they couldn’t just go out to eat (“Restaurants are expensive, you can’t eat out every night” he’d argue, to which Rei would counter with “That’s why some nights there’s instant ramen!”), but Kakashi refused to let her quit. He guided her through all the steps, warned her about the stove dials and how she didn’t need to turn it up quite so high, and showed her how to mix everything in the pan so it would all cook evenly.

               By the time 8pm rolled around, Rei was so sick and tired of this. The kitchen was hot and she was tired and this was taking way too long. Kakashi watched from afar for a while, then stepped up and tested the food for completion. Once he was sure everything was cooked thoroughly, he smiled down at her and announced, “You’re all finished.” He flicked off the stove, moved the frying pan to a cool burner, and grabbed a bowl for each of them.

               “It’s probably going to taste like shit. It’s probably going to kill you. I wouldn’t even try it, honestly” Rei complained as Kakashi divided the portions among their bowls. He handed her a pair of chopsticks and followed her to the table. “You know, we should just get up and go to Ichiraku right now so we can avoid the food poisoning we’re definitely going to get.”

               “Don’t be so cynical” Kakashi told her. “I’m sure it’ll taste fine! Besides, I was right beside you the whole time. I wouldn’t let you feed me anything that would kill me.” Rei rolled her eyes and laughed mockingly, angrily grabbing a wad of pork and vegetables with her chopsticks and shoving it in her mouth. She paused a moment, and Kakashi looked at her anxiously. “Well?” he asked. She looked at him with wide eyes, as if she was taken aback, finished chewing and then swallowed. A smile tugged at his lips—he could tell she liked what she had made.

               Rei shrugged and poked at the rest of her food. “Well, I mean, it’s alright. It’s not, like, mind-blowingly delicious or anything, but like…it’s stir fry. It’s, you know…it’s fine” she replied nonchalantly. Kakashi could tell she was struggling to keep the smile off her face.

               Kakashi chuckled. “You like it, don’t you?” he asked. The redhead fed him a death glare as she angrily shoved another chopstick-full into her mouth.

               “Don’t expect me to make a habit of this!” she protested. “It’d be fine for a once in a while thing, I guess. You know, if I’m feeling energetic or whatever.” Smiling, Kakashi pulled down his mask and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. Rei’s face turned bright red. “What was that for?”

               “Nothing in particular” Kakashi replied. “I’m just proud of you. You did a good job for your first time.”

               “You really think so?” Rei asked.

               The copy ninja nodded. “I’m not dead, am I?” he joked.

               “Fair point” Rei replied. They sat together eating their stir fry in comfortable silence, watching the stars twinkle through the open window. A soft, cool breeze blew into the apartment, fluttering the curtains and brushing against their faces. A dog barked down the street. Everything was good.

[crashdevlin]

Marion-9: Friends In Low Places

Marion Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version). This started as an excuse to write some Castiel/OFC loving, but it blossomed into an epic-length fic and even an AU where Marion was with them the whole time.

Summary:  Dean’s not the best brother, Cas isn’t the best boyfriend. Sometimes, dreams are the best escape.

Pairing(s): Castiel/Marion, Lucifer/Marion

Word Count: 3403

Chapter Warnings: feeling devalued, family drama, manipulation

Marion could only see Sam’s back as she came through Bobby’s study, but she could tell just from how he was sitting at the table, that he was the old Sam again. “Hey, Sasquatch!”

Sam scoffed happily and stood, smiling brightly. “Marion! Where’ve you been?” he asked, wrapping her in a hug.

They sat down at the table. “Well, Dean couldn’t live a happy, normal life with Lisa as long as his angel-resurrected twin sister was pulling on his coattails.” Marion gave a small look over her shoulder as Dean walked in and leaned against the door frame. “So, I went off to find my own normal. I got my GED and some college under my belt. I changed my name and got a boyfriend. And a cat!” She sighed. “But I’ve got a bunch of Dean’s memories in my brain, and hunter tendencies got the better of me. After about a year, I got mixed up with putting down a demon that had convinced somebody to hang four nuns. And hunting just seemed more important than a degree.”

“I didn’t know you changed your name.” Dean spoke up from behind her.

“You didn’t ask.” Marion snapped.

Sam’s brow furrowed as he looked from his brother to his sister. “What’d you change your name to?”

Marion looked down, a bit embarrassed. “Well, you guys call me ‘Marion’, of course. It’s my given name. But I changed it to Barbara… Bobbi… Singer.” Sam and Dean snickered. Marion rolled her eyes. “Chuck told me that Bobby was dead. I wanted to honor him. Shut up.”

“No middle name?” Dean asked, walking over to the coffee maker.

“No one likes their middle name. It’s not important.”

“Yeah, but you chose yours. What’d you choose?” Dean pushed.

“Samantha. Barbara Samantha Adama Singer.” Marion lied.

“Bobby, Sam, and Adam. Isn’t that sweet?” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Everybody who died in the Apocalypse. I’d’ve stuck a ‘Cassie’ in there, too, but the name was already pretty long.” Marion quipped.

Dean slammed the coffee pot back onto the burner and walked out with his mug. Sam’s eyes followed him out. “Okay, what the hell?” Sam asked.

Marion took a deep breath. *Don’t poke the wall.* “Dean and I had a disagreement while you were gone. He was… working hard to get you back. But the way he was working toward it… he was working with a demon, and the demon couldn’t bring you back, but Dean wanted to believe. So, he let this demon use him for favors. For months, he did this creature’s bidding.” Marion looked at the table, her lips pursed in anger.

“I told Dean that it didn’t make sense, that he was being used. But if there was a tiny chance of it working… he would do anything for you, Sam. He won’t even listen to me. So… I’m just letting myself get used to… being so unimportant.”

Sam took his sister’s hand, long fingers curling easily around her much smaller ones. “You aren’t unimportant. Dean and I, we’ve depended on each other for so long, we get irrational when the other dies. It’s not an insult-”

“He thought I was dead for a year and he barely flinched, Sammy. He cares less about me than he did Jo and Ellen. Which I get, ‘cause he didn’t get my mind, I got his. None of you know me. But Dean still thinks he gets to act like he does. And I’m not here to be lied to. I’m here because I’m not cut out for normality and I’m tired of hunting alone. Otherwise, I’d be off by myself, like Chuck… strongly suggested.”

“You’re right. We barely know you, me especially. You were with us for less than a month before you got possessed. And then, you left right after Meg left you. But… I know you can quote Shakespeare at the drop of a hat. I know you prefer the Grimm Brothers over Disney. I know you never felt completely comfortable with the Cornwells, which is why it was such a profound experience when Castiel filled you full of grace. I know you hate Zeppelin, even if you won’t admit it to Dean.” Sam smiled, softly. “If I know all that from a few weeks in the middle of Armageddon, don’t you think Dean knows more?”

Marion smiled up at Sam, a bit sad, with a bit of pity in the gesture. “I can list a few thousand things Dean knows about you. Thousands of things about Dad and Bobby. Hundreds of things he knows about Jo Harvelle. Dean probably knows a fraction of that about me.”

“You think you’re Rapunzel. It’s why your hair used to be so long,” Dean said, from behind Marion. “It was the most read volume on your side table at the hospital. When Meg cut your hair, I thought you’d realized you were out of the tower. You take your coffee with 4 sugars and cream, but if someone accidentally brings you a coffee black, you’ll drink it, anyway. You never had a crush before Cas, and that’s why you fell like a schoolgirl.”

Dean leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “You miss the Cornwells, and that makes you feel guilty. Just like you feel guilty that you sat in a house for twenty-seven years being treated like the next damn Messiah, while we fought monsters and broke our bones. You’re trying to hide that you’re back with Cas, ‘cause even though you’re pissed at me, you don’t want me to be pissed at you and Cas.”

Dean pushed off from the wall, licking his lips before shrugging. “We’re stubborn, so I know you’ll be mad for a while. You’ve got every right. But you love me, and you’re a lot nicer than I am, so when you’re ready to forgive me, I’m willing to… make more of an effort to show you you’re valuable.”

Marion tried to keep her face stern as she looked up at her twin, but her heart was melting. “How did you know?” she whispered.

“That Cas is the reason you want your own room? He’s been leaving more and mentioning his war less. And you’ve been a lot more successful with your hunts lately. I did the math.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“And I’m still not cool with you dating Cas, but… we’ll get over it.”

Sam looked awkwardly between his older siblings. Marion took a look at Sam, then Dean. “Eventually,” she said, with a nod, before standing and walking out of the kitchen.

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

“So, Dean knows?” Castiel asked.

“Yes, but you don’t have anything to worry about. He’ll get past it.”

“I’m not worried about Dean.”

“I’m not… it’s not a big deal, Castiel. Dean kinda gave his blessing… in his own way.”

Castiel sighed loudly, sending static through the phone. “His blessing is unimportant, Marion… but it is much easier for us to be together when Dean is oblivious.”

“I understand, but… he’s observant.” She shrugged, feeling a bit confused at Castiel’s rough tone. “So, why don’t you come to Bobby’s and we’ll work through it, together?”

“I can’t. I’m only on Earth to retrieve an item. I have to get back to Heaven.”

“Oh,” she said, crestfallen. “Okay, well… I heard Dean and Bobby talking about a case… I’ll just… see if they would want me to go with them. Or I can stick around and watch out for Sam. I’ll find something to do. You just, uh, call me the next time you’re back on Earth with some extra time.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, setting his bag on the table next to her. “Someone’s got to stay here with Sammy.”

“Great. I’ll watch him sleep and try not to poke the wall while you’re gone,” Marion growled, before walking out into the study and flopping down on the couch. Twenty minutes later, Bobby walked in, alone. She straightened, trying to look around him. “Where’s Dean?”

“He and Sam took off together. I’m still on the fence about that boy after what he pulled last week, so… I opted to let Dean take him out alone,” Bobby answered, grabbing a bottle from his desk drawer.

Marion shook her head, anger radiating through her. “Of course. I, specifically, ask to go out on a case and Dean takes Sam, instead. I’m sensing a pattern here, Bobby.”

“He didn’t exclude you on purpose, ya know. It happened pretty quick.”

“He never does it on purpose, Bobby. But Mister always said, ‘It doesn’t matter if you meant to, because you didn’t mean not to’. He never considers, Bobby, never thinks of anyone but himself and Sam.” Marion lied down on the couch and closed her eyes. “I’m gonna take a nap… or a coma.”

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

Marion arrived in her dreamscape in her basement bedroom at the Cornwells’ home. The familiar scene of grey cinder block walls lined with full bookshelves made her smile. She breathed in deeply, a savory and sweet smell invading her nostrils. “That smells like…”

“Meatloaf, mashed potatoes and homemade yeast rolls. Mmm-mh, good,” Lucifer said, appearing on the stairs.

Marion’s eyes went glossy as she looked up at him. “You set up my favorite meal for me? Why?”

Lucifer smiled as he appeared next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Thought you might need it. I mean, Sam and Dean went off to fight evil without you. Brother Castiel is too busy to have a drink with you. Bobby’s got his mouth to the bottle, just on the thought of being around Sam after what he did. Thought you’d enjoy a calm family moment, even one that’s not real.”

“Luke! Is she sleeping? What is taking so long?” Mister’s voice called from upstairs.

“They think I’m 29 and I go to your church.” Lucifer winked and pushed her toward the stairs.

“There they are! The food’s gonna get cold,” Missus said.

Marion sat down at the square oak table, across from Mister and Missus and smiled as Lucifer took the seat next to her. This dream, it made her happy. It filled her with calm and well-being, just like Castiel had when they first met.

Mister and Missus smiled at them as they spooned food onto the plates. “I never imagined the angels would send you a disciple. I almost thought they’d forgotten about you, Marion. But Jesus was in his thirties when he started ministering,” Missus said.

“I’m not… That’s not what I’m here for, Missus,” Marion dissented. “I’m sure I’m not anything like the Nazerene.”

“Oh, hush. The angels had us save you for a reason. Now, eat your meatloaf,” Mister demanded. “How’s that taste, there, Luke?”

Lucifer smiled. “It tastes perfect. You should have a cooking show, Mrs. Cornwell.”

Marion smiled over at Lucifer. He was so much different in this setting. He didn’t seem like a powerful, almost omnipotent creature who had been intent on turning everyone into rage zombies. He seemed almost normal, and like the only person who actually wanted to be around her. Marion shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth and thanked Lucifer, silently, that he’d gotten the details of Missus’ cooking perfectly. The grin he shot at her told her he’d heard it.

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

As Lucifer helped Dream Missus clean the dishes, and as Dream Mister retired to his study, Marion snuck out onto the front porch to sit on the little wooden porch swing. She swung back and forth a bit as she stared out at the semi-familiar lights of Lawrence down below her.

Lucifer appeared next to her on the swing and looked out at the lights. “It’s kinda pretty.”

Marion leaned back. “I know I should wake up. I can feel Bobby staring at me from his desk. I can smell the coffee he brewed to nurse his hangover. It’s morning… out there in the real world. I’ve been out since last evening. I should wake up before Bobby starts checking for vital signs. But this world… this dream you made for me… I know why djinns use dream worlds now. I don’t want to go back there where I’m nothing.”

Marion ran her hand through her hair and breathed deeply. “When I was a teen, living here with those God-fearing people, I pulled away from God, just a little bit. I couldn’t help but question it, why God would let a crazy old couple turn a little girl into a false idol. They were so sure, I would be something big, someone important. I never had any aspirations for myself. Mister and Missus told me I’d never leave, not until God willed it, but even if I had… nothing I could have imagined would have been close to my life now. I’m around wonderful, powerful, special people all the time. My boyfriend is an angel. My only real friend is the Fallen Angel. I hunt demons and monsters with my brothers… when they let me go with them… I never had dreams so wonderful as my real life. So, why don’t I want to wake up?”

“Maybe… you know something is wrong. Maybe you don’t want to think about whether the vibe Castiel has been throwing off is the beginning of the end. You don’t want to question whether his distance has to do with the heartbreak God told you is looming. But…” Lucifer turned to look at her instead of the lights. “… you’ll never know for sure if you stick around here. I mean, I like the company, it’s a bit of a sausage fest in the Cage, and I like that you’ve finally recognized me as your friend, but… you have to wake up, Mare. Your brothers are facing something… different, to say the least. You need to be awake.”

A ringing sound went through the air and Lucifer smirked. “Bobby’s phone. That’s them. They need help.”

Marion sank down into the swing. “I wish I could stay.”

“I know. I’ll throw together something good for you tonight. Something like this, but better. I promise, you’ll love it. Go on. Wake up.”

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

“Dragons?” Marion asked, incredulously.

“Don’t make sense to me, either, but… Dean says it’s the only thing he and Sam can come up with.”

Marion took a sip of coffee. *Luci did say it was something different.* “So, who would we talk to for dragon lore? I mean, actual dragon lore, not Tolkien or World of Warcraft lore?”

“Oh! Dr. Visyak. Gotta find my address book,” Bobby said, digging through his desk drawer.

“Dr. Visyak. Why does that name sound familiar? Did she write a book?”

Bobby looked up at her as he found the address book he was looking for. “Um, yeah, I think. A textbook on medieval studies. She’s a professor…”

“At San Francisco University. My medieval studies professor down South taught her textbook. She’s brilliant.”

“Yeah. She’s amazing,” Bobby said, pulling his phone out.

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

Marion laid down on Bobby’s couch and closed her eyes, excited for whatever Lucifer had planned for her. She appeared in a hotel lobby, with purple and black and gold streamers and balloons hanging from the roof. She could hear pulsing music behind a set of doors to her left. “What’s this?” she asked, a bit awed.

“This is your Prom, Marion. You never got the chance to go. I thought you’d like the opportunity,” Lucifer said, appearing suddenly, leaning against a table with a bunch of pictures on it.

“I don’t think we’re properly dressed, Luci,” she said, turning to him with a smile.

“Oh, silly me. Forgot the most important part.” Marion looked down and she was wearing a sleeveless red ball gown and long white gloves. She looked up and smiled at him, then frowned playfully when she saw him still wearing jeans and the flannel shirt.

“You’re still under dressed, Luke.”

“Oh, I’m not your date. He is,” Lucifer said, nodding toward a figure suddenly in the doorway to the right of her. Marion gasped a little when she saw Castiel in a black and grey suit.

“But… I don’t want to go with him.” She turned back to Lucifer. “As handsome as he looks, and as much as I would enjoy watching him struggle with a corsage… he’s not really here. And if I’m going to be at my Prom, I’d like to be there with someone who isn’t too busy to even show up in my dreams. What do you say, Lucifer? Will you go to Prom with me?”

Lucifer smirked and stood up, finally. He snapped his fingers and she turned to look as Castiel disappeared. When she turned back around to Lucifer, he was wearing a tuxedo. Marion giggled happily. “You look amazing.”

He offered his arm and she took it, walking into the ballroom.

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

Marion walked outside as the boys returned, semi-victorious, from their dragon hunt. As Dean walked into the house with a bag of gold and shiny trinkets, Sam grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the open trunk. “You okay, bro?” Marion asked.

Sam’s eyes shined with regret as he looked down at her. “I’m so sorry, Marion.”

“What? For leaving me behind? That was Dean’s fault,” she dismissed. “I don’t…”

“No, I’m…” Sam looked toward the door, then back to his sister. “I’m sorry for what I said. I know now that I’m a big part of why you feel so unimportant. I’m so sorry.”

Marion picked up a knife from the trunk and leaned against the bumper, twirling the blade. “Oh. That. Bobby tell you?”

“Cas.”

Marion nodded. “I don’t really hold it against you, Sam. I know that Soulless Sam is different than Normal Sam.” Sam seemed to relax a little, looked a bit grateful until Marion dropped the knife and looked him in his eyes. “But I do know that Soulless Sam was still Sam. And somewhere, in those dark, deep parts of you that your soul hides away, you really do think everything would be better if I’d just stayed dead. If it makes you feel any better, Sammy, I feel the same way.”

“Marion…” The sadness and guilt in Sam’s eyes only barely overshadowed the pity there.

“Sometimes, people should just stay dead, Sam. Don’t feel bad, though. God’s will or not, I’m here to stay. Do me a favor, and don’t dwell on this. We did have a good reason for not telling you the truth.”

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

“So, your boyfriend’s an asshat. Should’ve asked one of us before he filled Sam in,” Dean said, sitting next to Marion on the couch and offering her an open beer.

Marion took a sip of it, keeping her distaste to herself. “Yeah. I know. I mean, Sam kinda tricked him, but… he’s an angel, he should’ve known better.”

Dean nodded in agreement and took a drink of his beer. “So, we’re gonna head out. I’ve got Sam convinced that he shouldn’t think too much. I think we’re okay to go catch a few cases while Bobby works on this ‘Mother of All’ thing and-”

“You’re not leaving me here, Dean.” Marion interrupted in a tired, but cold whisper.

“What?” Dean asked, a bit surprised at the tone.

Marion lifted her head from staring at the floor. “My boyfriend is too busy fighting to come see me, but he has time to regale my brother with a year and a half of events. I have no friends, no family but you two idiots. I am sick of looking outside and seeing junk cars. I am sick of walking into that kitchen and finding nothing but beer and condiments. I’m sick of pretending like Bobby’s taste in beer doesn’t suck. I’d much rather drink shitty beer in a shitty motel room with my brothers, knowing that I’m on the heels of kicking the shit out of some creature or demon. You can’t leave me here with my thoughts, Dean. They’re getting a bit dark.”

Dean nodded, obviously not wanting to leave his sister in such a dangerous mindset. “Yeah, okay. Might need help with Sammy, anyway.”

She leaned her head on Dean’s shoulder. “I think I know why you used to leave a trail of floozies behind you. So much easier.”

“They weren’t all floozies. Some were just naïve and tipsy,” Dean said, taking a drink, and wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme

SUPERNATURAL TAGS @letsby @mrswhozeewhatsis @adoptdontshoppets @spnskinnyballs @deansenwackles

[sherlock-one-shots]

Evermore (Sherlock X Reader)

I have other requests lined up and, I promise, I’m working on them, and with my new job, it’ll be a little easier to get a routine going, now that my hours are much steadier, but the kids at work were watching Beauty and the Beast (the new one, which I have yet to watch all the way through yet (whoops!)) and this is the song I came in on and I’ve been.

OBSESSED! OBSESSED, obsessed, obsessed. This song almost moved me to tears and I hadn’t seen the whole movie, and listening to it now, I knew I just HAD to write something for it, and I can’t wait, so here it is.

This begins before he meets John, and he kind of meets John in the middle.

Also, heads up, it’s lengthy…like, 2,000 something words…a good four pages, almost five…it’s a lengthy oneshot

Inspired by ‘Evermore’ from “Beauty and the Beast” sung by Dan Stevens

Also, sorry about spelling and/or grammar mistakes. I wrote this late at night ? early in the morning.

 ~*~*~*

I was the one who had it all

I was the master of my fate

I never needed anybody in my life

  Independence. Solitude. Isolation.

Things Sherlock Holmes learned to value at a very young age and things he enjoyed well into his adult life.

Until Her.

They met late one evening, walking down a darkened sidewalk together, side by side. She didn’t think he would notice her speeding up so that she fell into step with him, walking beside him instead of behind him like a normal stranger would have done.

He realized why quickly, watching her from the corner of his eye wringing the strap on her handbag and watching the street paranoid.

Dark, London street, a woman alone. Sad that she had to worry, but he looked ahead, slowing down so that she could walk beside him without having to jog.

She thanked him once they reached a street lamp. She was grateful, a kind smile making its way to her lips as she nodded in goodbye.

He didn’t know why he did it. He looked forward to walking alone, especially at night. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone to bother you at night.

He was looking forward to his walk alone.

He took a step forward, calling out to her and offering to walk her the rest of the way home.

She didn’t argue.

Nightly walks became afternoon walks, afternoon walks became coffee, coffee became lunch, lunch became dinner, dinner became night’s in, staring at Sherlock’s wall, evidence, maps, and everything related to his current case.

She rearranged things while he thought, trying to make the pieces connect. Often times she helped him, repeating certain aspects until they both came to the realization and rushed to Scotland Yard to deliver the news.

And he helped her as well, writing novels based loosely on the crimes they solved together, ones that he demanded to read the rough draft of and edit for her.

“Are you serious?” Mycroft’s words echoed in his brain, even now, after so long. “This will only cause you pain. She will only cause you pain.”

He didn’t believe him.

 I learnt the truth too late

 Happy. That’s how he would have described himself. Happy. Happier than he had ever been, and she would have said the same.

The happiness shattered as her voice rang through the flat, angry and loud. He was gritting his teeth as she grabbed her coat, the door slamming behind her saying much more than she did, saying what she didn’t.

He was angry, stomping through the flat, slamming doors and making messes wherever he went, packing her things into a box he emptied and throwing it outside of the flat, onto the landing where she would definitely see it if she decided to come back for it.

“This will only cause you pain.”

He knew Mycroft wasn’t a complete idiot, but he hadn’t believed him for a second.

It was too late now to head the warning.

 I’ll never shake away the pain

I close my eyes but she’s still there

I let her steal into my melancholy heart

It’s more than I can bear

 It had been one month since then. One month since Sherlock heard her sniffles coming from the other side of the door as she picked up her things and carried them off, never to return.

Rings were forming around his eyes, the lack of sleep beginning to catch up with him. His vision was blurry and lids dropped

He couldn’t sleep. He had tried before, laid in bed and closed his eyes, only to see her minutes later in a dream, smiling and happy, memories flashing behind his lids that he couldn’t stop, ones that made his jump away, an aching in his chest.

Then anger would make an appearance, not at anyone in general, just an anger that made its way into every word he spat, into everything he did. He had let her in, he finally let someone in, let them know everything, he deepest secrets, his plans, goals, feelings, something he never talked about.

And now she was gone. He let her in and she was gone from him, that support, that love, the one person he could talk to was missing now and wanted nothing to do with him.

Anger would move back to the back burner just long enough for the ache to return and have Sherlock gripping the blankets, wide awake, trying to breath normally.

The pain, he knew, wouldn’t go away. But he would have to hide it. He would have to do his best to ignore it and hope to God that he would be alright.

 Now I know she’ll never leave me, even as she runs away

She will still torment me

Calm me

Hurt me

Move me

Come what may

He took a deep breath as Anderson explained, in no order whatsoever, what he thought happened.

Sherlock didn’t have time for this. He had the information, he just had trouble piecing it together. That combined with Anderson’s ramblings made his frustration almost unbearable.

The eviction notice on his door this morning didn’t help much either.

He reached into his pocket, opening his mouth to say something he really, really shouldn’t have, when his fingers came into contact with something soft in his pocket. He rubbed the soft cloth between his index finger and thumb and his mouth closed quickly, eyes leaving Anderson and looking towards the pavement as he rubbed the cloth some more.

It was from her scarf. It had ripped during one of his cases. He meant to give the piece to her, considering it was her favorite scarf.

It seemed he never got the chance.

Frustrations and anger melted away as he touched the familiar fabric, tension in his shoulders leaving and he looked back to Anderson, who stared at him strangely.

Before Anderson had the chance to ask why Sherlock acted so strangely, Sherlock excused himself, telling another officer to let Lestrade know he would be in contact.

She was gone. She left, never coming back, but she never left. Not really. She still had a hold on him and he didn’t know whether to let her go, or to keep that last piece he had of her.

He had tried before, just moving on, but it was a lost cause. She was everywhere.

 Wasting in my lonely tower

Waiting by an open door

I’ll fool myself, she’ll walk back in

And be with me forever more.

 There were days where cases were not available. Those days, Sherlock tried to make himself busy, but he found that at the sound of every footstep, every creak outside of his front door, he would turn quickly, hoping it was her, back again to stay, this time.

It was usually the landlady, scolding him for noise and telling him to get out in the sun, pushing back the curtains and letting light inside.

She tried to clean some, too, being as helpful as possible considering the date on his eviction notice was fast approaching and he had done nothing but find another flat somewhere else.

Isolation had become something of value to him once more, and Bart’s was the one place where isolation wasn’t just a fantasy. Even at his flat he was never really alone for long periods of time. And, while Molly fumbled around every so often, she was quiet. She reminded him of her, her mannerisms, her helpfulness, her flirting (quite awful flirting, he might add). He almost couldn’t help the mean remarks that flew from his mouth sometimes. Sometimes he wanted to apologize, sometimes he didn’t want to look at her. He didn’t see Molly, he saw her.

The doors swung open, Mike Stamford entering with a smile and another man in tow.

A flatemate.

 I race against the trials of love

I curse the fading of the light

Though she already flown so far beyond my reach

She’s never out of sight

 He rarely got on social media. He had an account, one that she had made for him before the split. She made it as a joke, but he used it, just to see what people he tolerated were up to, sometimes it helped crack cases wide open.

She was one of the few people he followed. He didn’t know why he logged in in the first place, but he made sure no one could tell he was online at all.

He scrolled through, wondering if she was alright.Then he saw it.

He stopped scrolling just as her hair came into view, blowing in the wind. He scrolled a little further, seeing the picture completely.

She was happy, grinning from ear to ear with someone else, the man’s arm around her waist while she hugged him tightly.

He stared at the photo for a moment before closing the computer and sitting back.

She had moved on. She was gone, the light in his darkness several months ago. Now her light was fading from him, belonging to someone else and lighting their way.

However, her career was soaring. Three books published now, and it was nothing for Sherlock to turn on the telly and see her on another channel, talking about her novels. Never once did she mention him directly. She always referred to him as a ‘dear friend’, but, though she didn’t mention him and though he couldn’t speak to her, it brought him some comfort just to see that she was well and happy.

 She will still inspire me

Be apart of everything I do

He put the bow down, scribbling something on the paper quickly before repeating the few measures he had finished that morning.

John complimented the piece, sitting down to eat his breakfast, not bothered by the playing. It was the first time Sherlock had played since then.

Sherlock didn’t thank him, only nodded, playing again.

John asked for the title and Sherlock mentioned a name quickly before playing louder, drowning his roommate out. John shifted in his seat, seeing her name printed on the paper. It held no significance to John, he had never heard the name before, but he didn’t question it as Sherlock moved his body to block John’s view.

 Wasting in my lonely tower

Waiting by an open door

 Mrs. Hudson reminded Sherlock of his old landlady, Mrs. Hudson was, however, much kinder and more understanding. She knew her, she knew what happened, and could tell that, when the dark circles were returning, she was a sensitive subject and that Sherlock had seen her recently.

Mrs. Hudson would come up often, bringing up clients.

She usually mentioned that it was a client, but some mornings she mentioned that there was a guest for Sherlock. His head would snap to the door at the sound of heels, only to see another woman standing there, not her.

His door was open all the time. It bothered John at first, he wasn’t used to just leaving the flat door wide open, but Sherlock demanded it be, at least, ajar. Whenever it was open, that was when you knew he was in and that you were more than welcome to barge in.

He didn’t want that to change.

She was more than welcome to come back, he would welcome her with open arms, no matter what happened. If she returned in two weeks, two years, twenty years-he would be here. Always, just waiting, even though part of him knew it was a lost cause.

 I fool myself, she’ll walk right in

And as the long, long nights begin

I’ll think of all that might have been

Waiting here for evermore

 A bit of courage allowed John to speak up about the piece that had rang through the flat for the past few weeks. Sherlock hadn’t given it up and had finally finished the beautiful, melancholy, and haunting piece.

“Sherlock?” John asked. Sherlock only hummed, not turning as he made the final touches to the piece.

“What is the name of the piece?” He asked. “I saw a woman’s name, but,” He trailed off.

“’Y/N.’” He answered simply, folding the piece and putting it in an envelope.

“Who was Y/N?”

Sherlock took a deep breath, dealing the envelope quickly. “A dear friend.”

~*~*~*~*~

You opened the mailbox, wrapped in your robe as He packed the rest of his things and put them in a car.

You didn’t look as he drove away. You only grabbed the mail, seeing the envelope on the top, familiar hand writing scrawled across the top. You ripped it open immediately, pulling out the sheet music inside, your name across the top as the title.

You suppressed a smile as you walked inside, holding the music close, leaving the rest of the mail in the box.

 It is currently one in the morning.

I have to be up at seven for work.

But this had to get done.

I might revisit this, I don’t know how I feel about it yet. Like, I really like this idea, I think there were things I could have done differently, but I’m so excited about it at the same time, I don’t know, I’ll see in the morning.

It’s lengthy, it’s sad, but hopefully it was a good read…? Please leave some feedback on this one, I want to know what you guys think about it. This is my first ever song fic, so I’m in brand new territory.

Also, I’m really sorry if it’s cutting sentences off on some devices? I found a new program to write on, but it seems like it’s coming with it’s own issues as well.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

two years too late, chapter f o u r t e e n 

You’d pulled your hat low over your face, sunglasses pressed up to your cheeks to ensure some level of privacy. You’d been recognized three times already--which was definitely a new record for the same 24 time span. 

“Jesus,” Jake laughed when the third girl walked away. “Used to think we’d only have to deal with one famous friend.”

You pushed away from him, skates gliding on the clean ice in Central Park. It’d been a hike and a half up to the Northeast corner in the first place, and now all you wanted was to skate in peace. 

“M’sorry--I wish I could make it not happen.” A beat of silence when none of them responded. “Yknow, that’s why I didn’t want to tell anyone at work about me and Harry being friends. I work in a field where it’s my job to talk about celebrities. I didn’t want to have to do it on my lunch break, too.”

You wouldn’t have been so straightforward with them if Harry had tagged along. He blamed his absence on a last minute meeting, but it offered a breath of fresh air and some space to actually breathe it. 

“I get it,” Bryn said, skating to catch up with you in front of the others. Jessie clung to the wall with Adam, Jake tried his best to not skate circles around all of you. 

“You do?”

“I do,” she nodded, linking her arm in yours. “Some of my coworkers know and they’ve been all over me trying to get tickets for the tour. I don’t tell Harry that, though--he’d feel obligated to hand ‘em over.”

“Exactly. I just didn’t want to deal with it.”

“It can be kind of cool, you know. I told my boss about it and he let me take a day off from work once without even using PTO cause Harry was in town,” Adam’s mouth was stretched into a silly smile. 

“Your boss is a wanker,” Jessie said. “And apparently he’s a pushover too.”

“He is both of those things, yes,” Adam laughed. 

Jake slowed down to fall back into the group. “So Smalls, what are you going to do about the interview?”

Another groan from your lips, two little boys skated past you, pushing against each other’s big winter coats to beat the other to the exit. “Nothing. Maybe just not do it.”

“Oh shut up,” Jessie said. “You have to.”

“I know,” you sighed. “S’the biggest story I’ve gotten. And it’s not that I totally don’t want people to know I knew him--it’s more that my boss will be livid when she finds out I’ve lied to her all this time.”

“You can’t give it to someone else?” Bryn’s head tilted to the side, Jake’s eyebrows went north. 

“S’an idea. Have a coworker who could take it on? You could fake pneumonia. Be out of commission for a week or two.”

“Might as well,” you laughed.

“Y’know, Smalls,” Adam offered a sympathetic look. “He was pretty upset last night.”

“He was? About what?”

“That you downplayed everything so much.”

“Alright, maybe s’not the time,” Jessie tried to defuse the situation, as if Adam’s words didn’t strike up curiosity in your bones. 

“What do you mean?”

“He really likes you,” Adam said. “I think he’s sad it didn’t work.”

“Okay,” you spun around to face him, stopping dead in your icy tracks. “He was dating someone else at first--and he didn’t tell me. I had to see photos of them online and confront him!”

“He should have told you,” Jake said, now skating backwards around Bryn. “But he really only saw her to end it. He told me.”

Bryn let out a short laugh. “And you believe him?” 

“You don’t?” Adam shot back.

“I dunno,” she said. “I mean, why wouldn’t he have just told her if he ended it? S’not a big deal that he was seeing someone. It happens!”

You held up a hand, hoping to silence them without having to get loud. “S’between me and him, alright? I appreciate the concern for both of us,” you shot Adam a pointed look, “but s’fine.”

“We’ve been trying to trust the two of you to figure it out for a decade, Y/N,” Jessie let out a breath as if she’d been keeping it in for ages. “Feels like you could both use a little help.”

“We don’t need help. I just--I need space,” you said. 

And it was true--at first you were sure you’d never want to speak to him again. When the gang first showed up you were convinced that you’d have a miserable time in his presence and be counting down the days until they left, freeing you from any obligation to interact with him. 

But now, after museum glimpses of normalcy before Jessie’s outburst, you were wondering if maybe you should have coffee--just the two of you--after they left. 

And maybe you’d get something close. The next morning when you were sat on Harry’s leather sofa for the last time as a group of six, he made some joke about how you never could seem to remember where the wine glasses were. It felt almost like he was testing the water--seeing where things stood as two people who were about to be set free into a busy city with no real reason now to see each other. Unless you wanted to. 

And when you hugged them all goodbye in the lobby, watching as Roger rebuilt the mountain of luggage in his car, you felt like maybe now was the time to say something. But he said it first. 

The last door was shut, Jake’s outline barely visible through the tinted glass as Roger put the car in drive.

“D’ya want a cup of tea?”

You looked up at him, a swell in your chest and an answer from your lips before he could take it back. “Sure.” Up the lift and into his flat, the kettle on the stove while you sat at the counter. 

“Thanks for having them come,” you said, shoulders up to your ears. “Even though things were weird, for a minute.”

“Course,” he said, arms crossed over his chest. A long pause, enough quiet to hear the heating kick on and a siren outside the thick windows. “You know, Y/N, I want to be friends with you.”

You looked up at him, your heart in your stomach at his words--a true sign that you wanted more, as if you hadn’t known until he offered words that fell short. “Oh,” you said. “Okay.”

He shifted on his feet, his eyes bringing heat to your face when you finally looked back up at him. “Okay?” He laughed a little, leaning forward on the counter. “S’all you have to say?”

“I don’t know what to say, Harry--fine, we can be friends.”

His eyes narrowed in your face, he licked his lips before parting them to speak. “Are you even curious about my side of it?”

“You already tried to explain your way out of it, Harry. What else do you have t’say?”

“I just want you to listen to me!” His voice was more emotional than usual, as if the tightrope you’d both been walking on had suddenly wrapped around his heart. 

“I already did listen!”

“No, Smalls, you didn’t, really.”

“So--okay, then. You want me to agree with you, forgive you really, not listen,” you corrected. He rolled his eyes at that. 

A text from Jessie lit up your phone, his did the same thing only a few inches away. You sighed, thumbing back a reply, making them promise to keep you updated on their travel home. 

He waited--patiently watching as you replied and set it back on the granite counter. When you looked up at him, he searched your face. “I should have told you.”

“I know,” you said. 

“I was too afraid to tell you because everything was going well. For the first time ever, really. Felt too good to be true and I was afraid I’d fuck it up if I admitted that I had seen her.”

“I get it.”

“You do?”

A nod. 

“Are you still mad?”

“I don’t know, Harry--I’m exhausted, is what I am.” He didn’t say anything, his eyes begged you to continue. “I can’t do the back and forth anymore. The friends, not friends, talking, not talking. S’been an exhausting eight years since you left home. Maybe not for you, but it has been for me.”

The kettle whistled, he pulled it off before it could scream and flipped off the burner. His voice was quiet. “I know.”

“I never knew if I was going to see you or hear from you and I don’t want to have some weird type of relationship with you that isn’t,” a pause, searching for the word when he slid a teacup across the counter. “Stable.”

“I want it to be stable.”

“I think the only way for us to have that is just,” you trailed off when he nodded, set his tea on the counter and traced a pattern on the counter with just one finger. 

“To be friends.”

“Yeah.”

You only stayed for another ten minutes, finished the tea and laughed at a picture of his sister’s new cat. He paused awkwardly at the door when you said goodbye, a hand shoved into his pocket before he could let it wrap around you.

**

Carly brushed at her hair with her fingers--desperate to go out into the sunny weather for lunch. She stood over your cube, watching as you finished typing a list on the best memes from last week’s episode of the Bachelor. 

“S’that the Harry story?” She whispered as if it was still a secret, as if you didn’t give the same nervous update in staff meeting every week. S’going well, you’d say. Making good progress. 

No one needed to know you were lying, that is, except for Carly. 

“No,” you rolled your eyes, clicking out of your story so it’d be queued up for Gabrielle to edit and proof. “S’taking forever, honestly. I haven’t got the slightest clue how to do it. I was planning on actually taking some time tonight to give it another go.”

You grabbed for your wallet, tugging your coat on before you followed her out of your space. 

“How’ve things been with him? Still, y’know, fighting over wine?” She offered a smirk, one that threatened to be challenging, but you weren’t in the mood to divulge more. 

“S’fine, we’re over it.”

She pressed the button for the lift, looked up to see the bright green numbers start to descend above the doors. “Having everyone in town was good, right?”

“Yeah, a lot of fun, turned twenty-four. You know, a real wild week out of the office.” 

You stepped inside and rode it down, shifting aside for other people to cram on for the lunch time rush. When you found your way down the block, she pressed harder. “Any idea what you’re going to do about Whitney?”

You shook your head, thankful for the oversized sunglasses that shielded from the winter sun. 

“D’you think you could just lie? Just write as if you don’t know him and hope for the best?”

“If only I’d be so lucky,” you laughed. “Just doesn’t seem realistic. M’still surprised that people haven’t put it together. I made all of my friends delete photos or go private or whatever on social media.”

“Right,” she nodded, a pause at the intersection. “Any more obnoxious tweets?” 

“Only one that I saw that made it seem like they’ll figure it out eventually.” She raised her brows with intrigue. “Someone said a picture of me looked a lot like a different picture of me from a few years ago.”

She let out a noise of concern, shoving past someone who moved too slow through the crosswalk. “What do you think you’ll do, then?”

“I’ve got to tell her at some point. The question is how.”

“D’you think she’ll fire you?”

“Don’t know,” you said, voice lower now. “Wouldn’t be surprised. So, I dunno. Maybe I should look for other jobs.”

She let her mouth pull to one side of her face, sympathy clouding her eyes. She let it go, though, changing the topic to a new bar she’d tried over the weekend and a partially successful date she’s had on Saturday. He at least split the check with me, she laughed, which is better than the last one who made me pay. 

You ate on the plush red sofas on the twenty-second floor, pretended like the dread of telling Whitney didn’t crop up inside of you every time she popped her pretty head out of her pretty office. 

“You know,” Carly’s voice was low when you tossed your take out in the bin. “If you really don’t want to write it, see if she’ll let you transfer it to someone. M’super busy, but, I would obviously jump at that opportunity,” she stifled a grin that tried to break loose on her cheeks. 

“Tried that,” you said, defeated. “I asked Whitney why she didn’t give it to you in the first place seeing as you’ve always been a fan.”

“What? You did?” Carly stopped in her tracks, her face a different shade of winter pale than it had been. “What did she say?”

“I dunno, Carly, something dumb. It was a while ago, I don’t remember,” it was a lie, but you weren’t about to tell her that. 

“Oh come on, she must have given a reason why she wanted you to do it.” She fell back into step with you now, her eyes still trained on your face with purpose.

You let out a sigh, wishing you could crawl into the safe reprieve of warm sheets--specifically ones that still had a lingering smell of a certain someone. “I dunno, something about wanting it to come from someone less biased, or a more professional outlook, it wasn’t a big deal.”

“What?” She seemed to whisper-hiss in your ear, her fingers wrapping around your elbow to slow you down. “She thought I’d be unprofessional?”

“No, no--that’s not what she said. I told you I don’t even remember! She just wanted me to do it since she thought I wasn’t a fan.”

Her face fell, you couldn’t tell which emotion had taken hold of her. Her eyebrows dipped together and she pursed her lips. “That’s shitty of her--I wouldn’t have been unprofessional!”

“Carly,” you stopped now, turning to face her and ready to backtrack. You knew that Whitney hadn’t been the nicest about her reasoning, but you weren’t about to get into it. “Relax--she was just trying to throw me a bone, remember? She knew I was pissed about being stuck on lists and she was trying to do something nice.”

She let out a sigh, reaching up to fix her pony tail that fell over her shoulder. “If she’d given it to me you wouldn’t be in this mess. She wouldn’t be in this mess with you. Our entire company wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

“S’not a mess,” you defended, head pulled away from her in offense. “M’sorting it out, I told you.”

“Right, Y/N, the blurred lines in your friendship with a subject aren’t problematic at all.” She put air quotes around the platonic label, immediately pulling a scoff from your mouth. 

“What’s that--” you let your fingers bend like hers had, “--supposed to mean?” 

She pulled you into her own cube, small enough to offer privacy but big enough to fit the two of you. “You really haven’t slept with him? You’ve never even kissed? Find it hard to believe with the way he looks at you!”

You inhaled and held it, eyes on her as you contemplated just blowing it all. Her lips curled up at the corners a bit, a laugh from her lips and a softened expression. “Y/N--just admit it. Aside from the fact that you’re writing about him it’s not a big deal. I can handle the fact that him and I will never work out,” she teased. 

“I can’t tell you all about it here,” you said, voice quiet as you scanned the room to make sure no one else had heard. 

“Fine,” she nodded. “Then let’s do dinner tomorrow night.”

So when you were alone on your own sofa that night, you begged your brain to try to come up with something good enough to publish. You’d lit a candle, put on some music, and drew the curtains. Only a few steps short of a satanic ritual after Alyssa left to meet Owen’s friends. She’d offered to bring you along, but you said you needed the space. 

What you didn’t tell her was that you needed the space to cry or freak out or experience whatever would come pouring out of you when you finally had a minute to process the last few months. 

You’d never been much of a crier--save for a good shower sob or drunken outburst--and now wasn’t much different. You sat at first and stared at your computer screen, bullet points scattered a blank white page that mocked you. 

Friends. You and Harry were friends. He’d been one for a long time, really. Someone who knew you better than most people and someone who knew exactly how to piss you off and make up for it in the same moment. 

You’d been walking a tightrope for the last decade, pushing and pulling and wondering when or if it would give. Separated by oceans or continents and still dreaming that one day your lives would align again. 

And they have, you know that now. But they’ve aligned in a way that felt messier than before--which you didn’t know was possible. 

The version of Harry that Whitney wanted you to write about was someone you didn’t know--one with perfectly coiffed hair and a personal assistant. So you decided that if you didn’t know how to tell the story of that Harry, the one who had celebrities on speed dial and didn’t hesitate to order top shelf liquor, you wouldn’t. You’d tell the story of your Harry. 

And when you did that, the words fell onto the keyboard and jumped onto paper, promising that the truth was better than any fiction you could craft. 

**

A text from Alyssa the next morning made your stomach sink to your feet. 

Alyssa (8:43am): Okay, not to ruin your day so early, but I just saw these.

Pictures from the weekend in LA--nothing too telling, just obviously a clear shot of _you _and a clear shot of him and clear shots of the two of you in the same place at the same time obviously spending time together. For the story, though, you’d argue. You could find the photos on instagram and plead your case. See that bad? There’s a laptop in there! And a tape recorder, for strictly professional purposes. 

You let a sigh escape your lips, fine, it was fine. It wasn’t like people didn’t know that you knew Harry at all--it was really just a secret now that you’d known him for so long. Or, at least, it was a secret until you could tell Whitney yourself. 

You’d decided--after staring at the blinking cursor on your screen for a good three hours the night before--that you wanted to at least give her the story before you really came out with it. That way, in case you somehow managed to catch her on a day where she was willing to overlook unprofessionalism, unethical behavior, and an altogether shitty situation, she at least had the chance to realize how skillful of a writer you were. 

You hoped that after an eventful and exhausting few months the universe had some kind of good karma coming your way. But then the guilt of lying set in and you were back to planning an exit strategy and a plan B for what would happen if Whitney didn’t see the good in you. 

You thumbed out a response to Alyssa right after you got off the subway. 

Y/N L/N (8:47am): ugggghhhh

Y/N L/N (8:47am): at least no one has put it all together yet

Which was true. You only had to deal with the mess you’d made for a few more days. Your story was due on Friday, Harry left for tour a few days after, and hopefully, things could return to some semblance of normal. Though you couldn’t quite imagine what normal would look like now. 

You climbed the steps up to street level, thankful that the sun had decided to fight its way through the late February cloud cover. When you were upstairs and at your desk, another message came through that you weren’t quite expecting. 

Pat Martin (9:01am): Would love to grab dinner or a drink one night this week if you’re free!

You stared at it for a second, reading over the words a few times before you were able to make any sense of them. A date--this time you were sure of it. 

But did you want that? Did you want to blur the lines between professionalism and romance for the second time in six weeks?

You put your phone face down on your desk, booted up your computer and then checked email. Whitney strolled by you with a bagel in hand, a smile on her face, and a pep in her step. 

“How’s the big story coming?”

“Good,” you said, a solemn nod before you blinked twice, a small smile on your face. “Worked on it last night.”

It was probably the first honest response you’d given her about it. She adjusted the bagel in her grasp, crinkling the wax paper that kept her hands clean. “Can’t wait to read it. You’ll give it to me by Friday?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded again, praying she couldn’t smell the fear in you. 

When she left you alone at your paper-cluttered desk, you typed out a response to Pat before you could overthink it. 

Y/N L/N (9:06am): Sure! Any chance you’re free tonight? 

He was quick to type back--you wondered if he was somewhere in LIC late to work, rushing from the subway or already situated at his desk. 

Pat Martin (9:07am): I can be in the city by 6:30? Wanna meet somewhere near you?

You stared at the message and got lost in thought. It’d been a while since you’d been on a date--at least, one that really felt like one. 

There was a kid at uni after Charlie--a boy from class who always wore these horrific shoes. He was sweet and nice but nothing about him sent a spark through you. In fact, you felt altogether quite unimpressed with his presence after 45 minutes so you cut the date short and headed back to your dorm. 

You hoped that this would be different--that Pat wouldn’t want to talk about work the entire time and that maybe he’d walk you home. 

More than anything, though, you hoped he’d numb the ache in your chest for Harry. 

“Morning,” Carly’s blonde hair was blonder than the day before, loose curls falling around her shoulders. “Care to brainstorm with me for new topics in twenty?”

“Sure,” you said, straightening your posture as if you hadn’t just been pulled away into a daydream of men. “Yeah, wanna grab the conference room downstairs?”

She agreed and laughed hysterically when you told her about your set up the night before. Only needed a candle and a picture of him! She teased, if you chanted loud enough you probably could have summoned him. The afternoon slipped out of your hands, quick and busy, and when the sun was seeping between the cracks of tall buildings, you headed for the bar down the street where you’d agreed to meet Pat. 

When your arm was outstretched for the door, your phone started buzzing in your pocket. You pulled it out, unsure of who needed you or who would skip straight to a phone call rather than a text. 

But of course, Harry’s name and a stupid selfie he’d taken only a few weeks back lit up your screen. Your finger hovered over the decline button. Three rings, four, then your thumb hit the green button, feet frozen on the sidewalk. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Smalls--s’me. What--uh, what are you up to?”

“Just got out of work,” you said, true. “Grabbing a drink with Carly.”

“Oh, nice,” he paused for a second but then got right to it. “Listen--I have a thing on Thursday night. A dinner thing. I was wondering if you’d want to tag along?”

You were quiet, teeth tugging at your bottom lip when a gust of winter air blew. “As, like, a date?”

“N--no. Not as a date if you don’t want it to be as a date.”

“I thought we were just friends.”

“We are.”

“Okay.”

“Okay you’ll come?”

“Okay I’ll think about it,” you told him, a firmness in your voice that you didn’t think you’d ever used with him before. A firmness that hindered any hope in his response. 

“Oh--yeah. Alright. I’ll uh, I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Okay,” you hung up without a farewell, shoving the phone back in your pocket before taking another deep breath. An event? You had no idea what that would entail or what you were supposed to wear or say or do. It felt too vague to commit to and yet too interesting and intriguing to decline. So you tucked the decision away in your mind, saving it for a conversation with Alyssa and maybe even a glass of wine over FaceTime with Jessie and Bryn.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside from the stinging cold. Pat was already there--a stool at the bar with his jacket still on. He offered a side hug when you walked up beside him, a somewhat sheepish grin sat lazily on his face. 

“How was your day?” He asked in greeting, settling back into his seat.

You let out a sigh and nodded. “Good, fine. Starving though.”

“Best nachos in the city, here, so that’s good.”

The bartender materialized in front of you, eyebrows raised to take your order. 

“I’ll do a Blue Moon,” Pat leaned forward a little when he ordered, his eyes fleeting over to you. “And the nachos.”

“I will also do a Blue Moon,” you nodded, a smile in his direction once you were alone again.

“Why the sigh about work?” He folded his hands together on the dark wooden counter, scratched and dents told the stories of customers past. 

“Just busy, is all. Big story coming up.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Harry Styles, actually. An interview.”

His eyes went wide, the glow of neon wall decor lit up his irises in the dim room. “S’a big deal.”

“Yeah, so the stress level is a bit higher than usual.”

“Understandable. Interviewing one of the biggest celebrities in the world would certainly leave me with a lot of sleepless nights.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from telling him the truth. It was harder than that, really, seeing as you had to fight the feelings in your heart and all the while deal with a level of confusion--both professionally and personally--that you’d never known before. 

You returned the pleasantry. “How was your day? Anything new and exciting at Digitize?”

“Not really--mostly spent the day looking forward to this,” he offered you a cheeky smirk, pulling his eyes back down to his hands when the bartender delivered two glasses--foam reaching up to the rims. He picked his up and held it in the air, waiting for you to let yours clink against his.

“Cheers,” you said, the drink jumped over the edged and trickled its way down to your hand. “To a Tuesday night.”

It was certainly a pleasant time--he told you about his brother and his favorite band. He talked about New York and wanted to hear all about England. Is it true that everyone has to curtsey or bow to the Queen? He asked. 

_Only if you’re lucky enough to meet her, _you told him. 

He was intrigued by your desire to move west--to find some solace in the States and give up the opportunities that surely would have been afforded to you if you moved to London. A fair question, absolutely, but you weren’t quite at the point to give him the truth. 

Staying in London meant a higher likelihood of having to deal with Harry, bumping into him at work events or covering different things he did--or at least, so you thought. 

So you didn’t tell him everything he probably would have liked to know. You left out pieces of your life--details like the LA trip or your recent birthday celebrations didn’t seem like they were appropriate topics of conversation for only one drink and a plate of nachos in. 

And you wondered when he walked you back to the subway if you’d ever get to that point with him, because the moment his lips touched yours, quick and chaste and extremely politely, your cellphone started to feel like it was burning a hole in your pocket.

The N train pulled up and you hugged him goodbye, promising to see each other again soon. But when the doors shut between you and the rest of the world, your fingers typed out a message and pressed send before you could think better of it. 

Y/N L/N (7:15pm): What do I have to wear if I come?

come talk to me about tytl

AN: a shorter chapter for your lovely sunday evening. just a heads up to those of you who have been so wonderfully committed--this is coming to a close!! there will likely be only one or two more chapters!!! so 15 or 16 total! Still undecided about a sequel. but thank you all for being lovely and reading and joining along!!! stay tunedddddd!

tag list:  @clorenafila @ainsleesolareclipse @castawaycths @harryspirate @wanderlustiing @ursamajor603 @thurhomish @omgsharry  @stepping-into-the-light @rachkon @jdcharliewhiskey  @shawnsblue  @gendryia @g0bl1nqueen  @laula843  @flooome  @a-woman-without-a-plan@awomanindeniall  @shaw-nm @staceystoleyourheart @ohprettylittlemind-deactivated2 @anssu-amry @my-fandomful-life2 @stylesfantasy @bookingbee  @mleestiles  @haute-romance-quotidienne  @craic-head-horan @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @at-least-im-1 @paigemck00 @rawmeharry @pinkpolaroidgirl @blackxxmagicc @sksspotkitty @nearbyou @kalesouffle @sunnflowerchild @lmk12310 @sing-me-a-song-harry @afterstylesmadeit @myhat @caritocp @liquor-and-intellect @harryinsweatersandbandanas @daydreamsofh

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

Tonight I’m Going to Wrap You- Donnie Wahlberg

A/N: So, this is a little imagine I wrote up for a dear friend of mine, Jaelynn! She’s probably the biggest fan of New Kids on the Block I’ve ever met and because she loves Donnie the most and has met him on a few occasions, I thought I’d dedicate this to her!

Song and lyrics provided by New Kids on the Block (I don’t own any rights to the song!)

*Lyrics are in italics

For the sake of this imagine, Donnie isn’t married! More fun this way 😉

Warnings: Little bit of angst but mostly fluff!

Word Count: 3,423

Check out my other works down below!

Holiday Masterlist| Masterlist of all Masterlists

The holidays were always your favorite time of the year. The music, the movies, the food, the lights, and just being with those who matter the most, is what you loved the most, and Christmas, was your favorite holiday. Yet, it always made you a little sad, because you wouldn’t know if your boyfriend would be home or if he would have to work. Dating Donnie Wahlberg wasn’t easy due to his demanding schedule. If he wasn’t touring with the New Kids on the Block, he was on set filming Blue Bloods or another project entirely; you just never knew. He was usually always off doing something and although you loved him for it and you were so proud of him, it would be straining on your relationship. You didn’t want to sound needy, but you were just as important as his career and he didn’t always show you that. When you were together, all his attention would be on you, but he could easily be distracted by his social media. He was super loyal to his fans and would interact with them a lot and while you admired him for that, you felt as though you were on the back burner of his mind.

As the big day grew closer and closer, you kept yourself busy, not wanting to think too much about how Donnie made you feel. The diner you worked at kept you busy, with tons of tourists coming in from out of town. Almost every shift you worked, you’d be running around, taking orders, and getting them to and from the kitchen, as quickly as possible. However, not everyone had the patience for slow service and some customers would take their frustrations out on you.

“Hey waitress, you got my order wrong!” One angry customer yelled to you, as you set drinks down for the table you currently were serving.

“So sorry Sir, I’ll be right there,” you say apologetically. Rushing off to where he sat, you heard where the mistake was before you were being dragged to the next table, who wanted their check. Acknowledging them, you darted back to the kitchen to fix the wrong order and printed the tab for the waiting table, just as a table of ten sat down in your section before your boss came up to tell you how slow you were and how many complaints, he was getting because of you. It wouldn’t have been so bad if there were more than four waitresses on staff that night, but that’s all that was available to work that night. All four of you felt the pressure intense as the night wore on and more and more customers came in for a meal. And finally, when the dinner rush died down at 8:30, you felt as though you couldn’t handle the job anymore. There was only one person who could make you feel better and he wasn’t due home for another three weeks.

Taking out your phone, you see one of the many photos you had with him and it brought a smile to your face but also made you feel sad. Sneaking off out of the dining area, you make your way in the walk-in cooler and press his name on your screen, and held the phone to your ear, counting the rings as you waited.

“Hey baby,” he said, answering on the fourth ring, right before the phone would go to voicemail.

“Donnie, hi,” you speak, your breathing separating your words.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, knowing right away something wasn’t right with you. Not even allowing any words to come out, your body started to shack and sobs fell past your lips, tears freely falling from your eyes.

“I-I c-can’t do this a-anymore. People, a-are so mean and-and I just-m-miss you so much,” you say in between hiccups and sobs.

“Oh no, another bad day?” His voice revealing, he was worried.

“Yes, I don’t know if this job is worth it, I may need to quit,” you say, able to fully speak once you stopped crying.

“Well, you might need to do that, just, don’t do it tonight,” he says, causing suspicion to arise in you.

“What do you mean, why can’t I do it tonight?” You ask, walking out of the cooler and behind the bar, where you saw him sitting, waiting for you.

“Because I was supposed to surprise you at work and I can’t quite do that if you leave now,” he says, a sheepish smile gracing his lips.

“Donnie!” You cry, leaning across the counter to kiss him in front of everyone.

“Jaelynn! Get off the counter! You can kiss your boyfriend later; you have tables to clean!” Your boss yells at you again, and Donnie tenses up, sitting back on his barstool. He gives you a look as to ask if he needed to step in, but you shake your head, knowing you could handle your boss.

“Look, Jack, I don’t need to take this anymore, you are abusive, you leave us short-staffed every night and you keep all the waitresses tips for yourself, which I have proof of so you can expect to hear from my lawyer. I quit, and I’ll see your ass in court,” you untie your apron from around your waist and toss it on the floor, the other three waitresses following your lead.

“Come on, girls,” you say, walking in the back to grab your belongings with your coworkers and the four of you walked off, arm in arm, Donnie right on your heels. When you all made it outside, tons of photos and hugs were exchanged as you all celebrated leaving a terrible situation.

“This is great, I’m so proud of you, Jaelynn,” Donnie says, kissing your temple, but you tense up beside him.

“Thanks, but uh, we need to talk, Donnie,” you say, walking to your car, unlocking it, and sitting behind the wheel.

“Oh no, what’s going on? You’re not ending things, are you?” He wonders, going to the passenger side of your car and sitting beside you.

“No, but I might have to,” you look to him as you start the engine and warm the car up so you wouldn’t freeze.

“What? Why? What’s wrong?” He grows increasingly more nervous about what you had to say.

“Well, I feel like I don’t matter to you anymore,” you admit, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What? Why would you say that?” He questions, genuine confusion playing across his features.

“Because, you’re away from me more than you’re with me, and I get it, your job leaves you busy, but then when we are together, you get distracted by the fans and social media and I just don’t feel like I’m really important to you anymore,” you say and he just hugs you.

“No Jaelynn, that’s not true! You are the most important person to me, besides my Mom and my family. I am so sorry I have made you feel like you weren’t more important; I get so caught up in things. But that’s no excuse for you to feel like this so I’m going to make it up to you,” he says, an invisible lightbulb going off above his head; he had an idea.

“How?” You ask.

“I’m bringing you home for Christmas so you can meet my family and I can show you where I grew up. You need to be reminded of how special you are to me, so I’m going to do just that. I’ll call you later with all the details; I love you,” he leans over to peck your lips quickly before jumping out of the car and into the darkness.

“What the hell just happened?” You say aloud to yourself. Throwing the car into reverse, you make your way back to your apartment where you couldn’t wait to wash the day's events off your skin.

A few hours of self-care later, a knock on your door brought you from your Netflix binge-watching session.

“Donnie,” you say, stepping to the side to let him in.

“Hey, babe. Okay, you need to pack up, we’re leaving tonight,” he says, walking into your room to find your suitcases.

“Whoa, Donnie, slow down. Where are we going?” You say, grabbing a hold of his hands so he would stop to explain.

“I told you, I’m taking home to see where I grew up. I want you to meet Alma; she’s been asking to meet you for a while now,” he says, a childish grin played on his face.

“Wait really? Does she want to meet me? Why?” You ask, your insecurities surfacing.

“Are you crazy? You’re amazing and smart and brave and beautiful. She keeps asking to meet the girl who took her ‘Baby Donnie’s’ heart,” he says, red tinting his cheeks at the last part.

“Well then, we better get going. We can’t keep Alma waiting,” you say, kissing him just a bit longer than usual, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of him but soon breaking apart. He helped you pick out different outfits and pack your suitcase and soon, you were ready to go. Taking his hand, you walk back out front to lock your door and rush off to the waiting SUV that rushed off to the airport. One very important thing about dating someone with a status like Donnie’s was that he had his own airplanes and could tell the airport when he was ready to take off.

Walking down the thin aisle between seats, you choose one right by a window, him taking the empty one right beside you, as the crew loaded up the plane and prepared for take-off. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he couldn’t help smiling at your excitement; flights were always fun to you. When one of the attendants came and told him the pilot was ready to take off, he makes sure his and your seatbelts were fascinated tightly, before bracing for the take-off. Holding your hand in his, the plane raced down the runway and soon, floated about the earth, soaring higher and higher to the tops of the clouds. Your eyes stayed glued to the window, seeing the world grow increasingly smaller the higher you went. Once the plane was leveled, you closed the curtains over the window and snuggled closer to Donnie, who had asked for a blanket just in case you fell asleep. It was getting late and he knew that you had been emotionally drained from your day, so he lulled you to sleep with a song in your ears.

When you woke again a few hours later, Donnie told you to look out the window as the skyline for Boston was coming into view. You sat up and drew the curtains back to see the lights from the skyscrapers blinking and shining bright against the dark background of the night.

“Wow,” you said, taking in the beauty of a city still asleep.

After landing and gathering your things, Donnie leads you off the plane and down to a waiting car that drove you to a hotel, where your room overlooked the city. Dropping your bags on the bed, you rush over to the window, pull back the curtains, and peer down at the pool that was lit up by lights in the water and around the area, and the city surrounding you. You could feel arms snaking around your waist, and were met with lips pressing against the skin on your shoulder.

“This is incredible,” you say, leaning back into his chest as he holds you close.

“Only the best for my girl. Now, we should get some sleep because I have a lot of fun things planned for us,”

With just packing the things you needed for the night, you pull on pajamas, brush your teeth, and climb into bed. A few minutes later and Donnie was right next to you, both of you falling into unconsciousness.

----------------֍-------------------

Waking up the next morning to a beautiful singing voice, you smile seeing Donnie with a tray full of food and coffee, sitting in on your lap once you’ve sat up.

“Wow, is this all for me?” You ask, taking the coffee from the tray and taking a sip, savoring the feeling of the hot liquid falling down your throat.

“Of course, it is! Well, it’s for the both of us but your reaction was adorable so we can say it was for you,” he gives a shy, sideways smile.

Flipping the TV on, you both watch a movie and eat all the food Donnie had ordered from downstairs. When the food was gone and the movie ended, you and Donnie got dressed for your day of “holiday adventures” as he described your day ahead. Turning on some Christmas music, helped get you in the holiday spirit.

“Wow, you look great,” Donnie said, grinning at your outfit. You wore a simple dress and tights, your makeup was done just lightly but enough to draw attention to your face.

You blush at his comment, avoiding his stare on you and saying, “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“You ready?” He asks, and you nod, linking your arm with Donnie’s and heading downstairs.

There was a car waiting to take you to Alma’s house, where she was waiting to greet you with open arms.

“And, you must be Jaelynn, the girl who finally took my Donnie’s heart,” she says, giving you a big hug.

“Oh, um, yeah, I guess I am,” you blush again, those Wahlberg’s surely knew how to make you embarrassed.  

“Come, sit, tell me all about yourself!” Alma asked as you all sat around with coffee and snacks.

-------------------֍--------------------

Quite a few hours had passed and you felt like you really were apart of their family. Alma had fully accepted you and thought you were the perfect girl for his “baby Donnie.” As the sky had turned darker, Donnie grew more anxious, as he wanted his plans for you to go well. You felt his nerves starting to get the best of him, his leg bouncing nervously, so you lean over in your chair to ask if he was alright.

“What’s wrong, Donnie?” You ask, turning to see the entertainer beside you, with a ghostly look on his face.

“Nothing is wrong really, I just want tonight to go well,” he says, wide eyes falling to you.

“Okay, well, if we need to go, we’ll just tell Alma, I’m sure she won’t mind,” you try soothing your nervous boyfriend by placing your hand over his and squeezing it gently. He nodded to you before you went to the kitchen, where you saw Alma busy with the dishes.

“Can I help out?” You ask the woman, who was busy humming a New Kids song, as she worked.

“Oh no sweetie, you’re my guest, you two can just relax, but by the look on his face, seems like you two need to get going,” she comments, knowing how her son was feeling without having to ask him.

“Boy, you’re good at that,” you acknowledge her motherly intuition.

“When you’ve been a Mom for as long as I have and with nine children, you learn a thing or two about them,” she offers you a small smile, which you returned and said,

“You’re incredible for raising them mostly on your own. I can’t imagine what that was like for you.”

“It wasn’t without its struggles, but I always made the kids had everything they needed as best I could. And I think they all turned out pretty good considering,” she adds.

“Oh definitely!” You say with a bit of enthusiasm.

“What are you two talking about in here?” Donnie suddenly says, coming into the kitchen.

“Just about how much of a wonderful Mom Alma is,” you say, smiling to the older woman, who just beamed at her eighth child and the look of love on his face.

“Oh, we all know that is a true statement,” Donnie says, going up to his Mother and kissing her cheek.

“Alright enough of all that, I know you two need to get going,” she says, bringing Donnie in for a hug and another kiss to his cheek before she turned to hug you. “You guys be careful out there,” she comments.

“Will do, Ma,” Donnie says, walking towards the door.

“It was so great meeting you, Alma. Thank you for everything,” you say, reciprocating her hug.

“Well, you’re very welcome, and keep a good eye on that one,” she says, motioning towards her son at the door.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, I got a good grip on him,” you say, sharing a small laugh with Alma.

Walking to the door to meet Donnie, he holds your jacket out for you to slip right into. Bidding Alma one final goodbye, Donnie takes your hand and helps you back into the waiting car. He sat close beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“What’s next?” You ask, looking to the man beside you.

“Well, I thought we’d drive around the neighborhoods, especially where I grew up, and see some lights? We could go get some hot chocolate and I have some music ready to play as we drive,” he offers, another shy smile finding its way on his lips.

“That sounds perfect!” You say, excitement bubbling over, as you let your inner child come out. Driving around and looking at all the houses decorated for Christmas was one of your favorite traditions you held since you were a kid, so knowing Donnie wanted to continue that tradition with you as adults, meant a lot to him. He was right, he really was trying his hardest to show you how much you meant to him and it made your heart swell; he really loved you.

Stopping off at a local coffee shop, Donnie orders two large peppermint hot chocolates with whipped cream, and hands one to you when they were ready. Taking the lid off, you wipe some cream onto your finger to then wipe onto his nose. You chuckle at the look on his face, a look of surprise, before he pops the lid off his drink, and wiping cream onto your nose. You gasp and laugh as he kisses the creamy white substance from your skin. When your favorite holiday-inspired New Kids song came on, you ask the driver to turn the volume up, as you and Donnie scream/sang the lyrics to Unwrap You.

Baby, it's Christmas, how could I miss this? The work and the worry and the wait is through, tonight I'm gonna unwrap you. Baby, it's Christmas tonight, I'm feeling the feeling inside, and old Santa told me what you want me to do, tonight I'm gonna unwrap you.

A few times, you and Donnie would jump out of the car to take photos in front of different light displays around town, before hurrying back inside to get warm again. When the car came to a stop outside the house where the Wahlberg family spent many years, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. The hard work put in by all the kids, to provide a better home for their Mom and their own families, made you tear up just the slightest. It wasn’t easy what Donnie or even Mark or Paul had to do to get to where they were, but boy, were you proud.

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Growing tired from the days’ events, Donnie told the driver to head back to your hotel, as he noticed the exhaustion starting to creep up on you. Snuggling closer into his side, he held you close and did all he could to make you feel more comfortable in the small space you both sat. It wasn’t long until you were back in the room, dropping off any goodies you had collected from Alma before heading to bed for the night. He originally had different plans of how he wanted to end the night, but he knew he would have to save them for another night. Just before you fell asleep, you heard a whisper of a beautiful promise, that rang in your mind the whole night, a promise of commitment and love.

“I’m glad you had fun today. I am so sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t important to me, but I promise to always remind you how special you are to me. I love you so much, Jaelynn.”