#oi oi lads on tour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heyidkyay · 1 year

Text

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Twenty-Eight - End

A/n: Ah finally 28 is here!! I'm sorry for the silence, had a lot going on recently, but this is the final part of the series! I can't believe it tbh, though I wouldn't mind writing a few extra scenes in the future just because I love these two a whole lot. But we'll seeee!

Just a warning, this is very similar to the flashback chapters on 24 and the scenes are as the years pass starting from before the time G and Birdie got together, it's ALL from G's POV which was so fucking difficult to write but hopefully I pulled it off. Either way, I hope you enjoy it and thank you to all the love everyone's shown this series, it means so much.

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Masterlist

It was beaming. First proper hot day they’d had in months. Though in truth, it could’ve just as easily been years seeing as though every weather station was currently claiming a ‘hellish heatwave’ to have taken over the entire country.

It was bittersweet.

George was sat outside on the decking, just by the pool in Matty’s back garden with the rest of the band, Ross in a pair of boxers perched on the waters edge with Adam sporting a pair of bright yellow swim trunks right beside him. The two of them had been doing laps but had seemingly tired themselves out under the hot sun and were now kicking up a lazy wave in the shallow end.

“Oi.”

George glanced away from the duo to find a beer being shoved his way, he took the crisp bottle with a soundless nod just as Matty settled into the lounge chair next to him.

“You not getting in then?” The older boy asked him and George curled his lip just as he wrinkled his nose.

“Maybe. Too fucking hot to be arsed though.” He answered, sticky with sweat but enjoying the warmth the summer weather had to gift him.

Matty laughed under his breath and kicked his leg up to cross it over his knee. “Mum ordered food, if you’re hungry. Lou wanted pizza, so.”

George smiled in retort. He’d skipped breakfast that morning, knowing his presence would only lead to more problems now that his mum was home again, and had been hoping to grab something on the way over but hadn’t had the chance.

“Speak of the devil.” Matty chuckled after and George followed his gaze over to find his younger brother, Louis, scuttling out of the patio’s sliding glass door, water gun in hand and a leggy teenage girl just behind him.

“Get back here, Lou! You’re so dead!” The girl shouted, hair dripping wet and shirt dampened from where she’d obviously been the subject to one of Louis’s antics, but her words were counteracted by the dazzling grin she wore and the bright sheen she had to her eyes.

The younger boy she was chasing cackled loudly in return, face alive as he zoomed past George and Matty on the loungers in an attempt to escape her. But she was hot on his heels.

“Run, mate!” Matty called out unhelpfully, snorting when his little brother tried to make a song and dance out of it when he chose to go around the garden table a few times.

George chuckled quietly, watching the duo from where he was perched, though he could hardly keep his eyes off of the girl, focused on her expression, the way she moved so effortlessly. Matty seemed to notice it too.

“You’ve got it bad, man.”

George startled a tad at his voice but shook his head anyway as he waved Matty’s accusation off, not bothering to argue against it seeing as though his eyes were still trained on one thing.

Besides, it weren’t as though he hadn’t heard it all before, the lads loved to tease him for his apparent staring, the longing looks he threw her, but how could he help it? She was this blazing ball of fire, too fucking hot to reach out and touch, but enticing all the same.

God, he was such a fucking sap.

Matty was still laughing, either at him or the way his younger brother’s face had suddenly fallen in quick realisation, perhaps both, but George could hardly bring himself to care. It’s not like she ever noticed his attention anyway, barely even spared him a hello, let alone a second glance.

“Just talk to her, man. She won’t bite.” Matty told him, as though it was really that simple. But before George could think of a reply, a loud scream echoed out across the garden and he looked up just in time to spot the pair go catapulting into the pool, the girl’s arms wrapped around the younger boy’s shoulders as their bodies cut through the water. “Fucking hell.”

The pair of them were laughing when they reemerged, Louis spluttering whilst the girl just shook the hair out of her face, smile still frozen in place. George’s breath got caught in the back of his throat and his mind went a little fuzzy at the sight of it, witnessing how carefree and gorgeous she always seemed to appear, but especially then.

“You cheat! You can’t do that!” Louis laughed in argument, splashing about a bit. “It ain’t fair.”

The girl merely grinned in retort and reached out to mess the boy’s sodden hair up further, “Sure I can, Lou. An eye for an eye and all that! You wet me with your gun and I tossed you in the pool. Sounds fair enough to me.”

“She’s got you there, mate.” George heard Ross add from the side of the pool, and could hear the mirth that lined his mate’s voice. “Take it like a champ.”

“You get to say that, you’re already soaked!”

“Tell him, Lou!” Matty hollered with that mischievous smile he often favoured.

The girl waded in the water and threw a smirk at Matty, but her eyes lingered on George too for just a second. “You lot getting in or am I gonna have to drag you over too?”

Matty laughed and went to make a stand, but just as he did, he turned his back on the rest of them and shot a sly remark at George, who was still trying to get over the acknowledgment he’d just been given. “Bet you’d love that though, Georgie. Fucking flustered at the very thought, ain’t you?”

George scowled, though he could only watch on as Matty waltzed away, chuckles still bright. He huffed instead and dragged a pitiful hand across his face in hopes to get ahold of himself. But Matty was right, he could feel the warmth of the blush down the length of his back and felt like such a tit for always reacting to the tiniest of interactions she had to offer him.

“Come on, G! Getting old here!”

He swallowed heavily at the sound of her voice, but didn’t dare look up just yet. G. It was a first, that was for sure. Hadn’t really stuck around anywhere long enough to make many friends, let alone have a nickname surface. He only hoped it’d stick, especially if she was the one calling out for him.

“I’m coming!” He said after a quick breath and only then chanced a glance, surprised to find her wild eyes still set on him. She flashed him a pleased grin and- “Shit.” He murmured to himself, almost stilling in place at the realisation that hit him. He was so fucking gone, wasn’t he?

—

London was different to Wilmslow, George had decided. Busier. You could hear the noise of the city at night sneak in through the front bedroom window, and feel the shake of the trains that ran across the back of the lane all through the house. It was nice though, these differences. The City. The noise. Mostly because the quiet never had sat well with him.

“Oi, those carrots won’t cut themselves, you know.”

George found himself smiling at the sound of Dee’s voice and pulled his gaze away from the open back door to see her grinning back at him. She was currently cooking up a storm, spices scattered everywhere and water bubbling from a metal pot sat up on the hob, but she’d wanted to make her famous shepherd’s pie for her favourite niece during their stay, and somehow he’d gotten roped into helping.

Not that he’d ever say no, he’d grown fond of the two women that had welcomed him in with open arms far too quickly- but that was without mentioning the lighthearted threats that had been given if he dared even step a toe out of line with her. Or at least, he hoped they were lighthearted.

“Daydreamin’?”

He hummed in return and went back to his kitchen duties, skinning the orange vegetables and then dicing. “Something like that.”

Dee mimicked the sound with a faint titter of her own and he watched closely as she glanced back out the door and into the garden, seeing the scene he’d been so absorbed in.

Nana (“Can’t be callin’ me by nothing else, my darlin’, family’s family and you’re it now.” Is what she’d claimed from the very start, not drawing any attention to the hitched breath George had given in turn) was perched in a deck chair, one of those fabric ones with the silver metal legs and striped cloth backing, a shovel in one hand and a pot in the other. Cyril, who seemed content to laze about in the hazy summer heat, was sprawled out on the grass right beside her, drool dripping from his open jaw and eyes closed. Nana kept patting his belly every few minutes but he didn’t care to move from his slumber.

Birdie was right there with them as well, only she was knee deep in the flowerbeds, soil painting the skin up to her elbows and blackening the overalls she’d adorned earlier. The pink spade she’d picked out was lost somewhere to the left of her and she was squinting in the afternoon sun, attention drifting back and forth between the flowers they were planting and the seventy-three year old giving out orders. They appeared to be speaking about something or other now though, Birdie trying hard to keep her mouth from lifting into an embarrassed sort of smile whilst Nana merely chuckled away.

“How’s she really been?” Dee quizzed him, plopping the carrots he’d cut into another pot before tossing the steaming potatoes that had just been boiled. The question was oddly quiet for her, enough for George to notice at least, seeing as though the woman had been nothing but a rocket since the minute they’d met.

He wondered if she knew, albeit vaguely. But then shook the thought away, if either of these women knew anything that had been going on back home there’d surely be hell to pay. That he understood. Still, it wasn’t his secret to tell and Birdie had been adamant about it, even after hearing his incentives.

“She’s been alright, keeping busy in truth. Got exams soon.”

The red-haired woman hummed again, staring off into space for a moment before those piercing eyes of hers were drilled into his. He fought not to outwardly react.

“Doesn’t seem alright, what with her walking in all battered and bruised. Looks more smurf-like than human to me.”

George swallowed, stuck on what to say, and it wasn’t like he had something to preoccupy himself with now that the carrots were gone. He sighed softly. “She’s… alright- strong, really. Just a lot going on at school, you know? And her mum’s been busy.”

Dee’s tongue prodded the inside of her cheek at that but turned back to fork the mince she was frying. “Never did like her much. But especially after the funeral.” She revealed and looked almost as though she was gritting her teeth to get the words out. “Din’t come to the reception. Just left little Dove here with us and got on the first train home. Could understand, somewhat. Woman had lost a husband, hadn’t she? But then, I’d lost my brother. Mum, a son, and that little girl out there, well, she’d lost her dad. Her mum didn’t want much responsibility for her afterwards, hardly saw the arse-end of her in the long months after. A visit once in a blue moon and a phone call each Thursday. Honestly believed the kid would stay living here with us, until she swanned back in and swept her back up north.”

A silence settled in the breath Dee took then and George’s emotions warred within. He choked them back and swallowed them down to brew.

“Fought hard to keep her, din’t think the woman was capable of lookin’ after herself, let alone a kid. But,” Dee shrugged then, helplessly. “She’s her mum, ain’t she? Not much we could do about it. Lost touch a bit after that, she wanted distance, said we reminded her too much of him. Claimed our Dove couldn’t stomach the reminder either. So we listened. For her sake if nothing else. Killed my mum though.”

George swallowed thickly. “Can imagine. I don’t know how I’d act if I ever lost her.”

Dee seemed to pause at that, then turned to regard him slowly and with a very sweet smile, one George had never been gifted by an adult in his lifetime. It threw him.

“You’re a good sort, Georgie. Look after her well, don’t you?” Her noiseless chuckle surprised him but then she just shook her head, obviously not expecting an actual answer. He watched on as she inhaled slowly only to then throw the tea towel she’d been clinging onto over her shoulder, wiping the underneaths of her eyes. He didn't know what to say or how to make things better. “Start mashing those spuds for me, would ya doll? Just gonna nip to the loo.”

George could only nod, surprised by the whole event but especially upon seeing Dee suddenly so choked up. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it though, seeing as though Birdie came swanning into the kitchen just after her Aunt had disappeared.

The girl was smiling happily, happier than he’d seen her in a long while, ever even. It made him stop short, if only to take her in. The freckles on her cheeks that the sun had warmed and strengthened. The cheeky smile that dimpled the right corner of her mouth. The wrinkle in her nose that stood out amongst the gentle burn that dotted its bridge…

The twinkle in her eyes as she zeroed in on him.

“Where’s Aunt Dee?” The girl asked, picking up a pea-pod from off the counter and biting into it. George’s face wrinkled in amused anguish.

“Toilet.” He answered her, falling into one of the empty bar stools stood behind. “Finally decided to come help, have you then?”

She stepped closer and smirked up at him. “Nope.” The next bite she took made a massive crunching sound, her grin widened.

George rolled his eyes, before taking the chance to get another good look at her. If it weren’t for the fact that Nana was looming just beyond the door, he’d have kissed her.

The woman was a dainty thing, yes, but fucking terrifying too. And seeing as they’d yet to announce anything between them, let alone anyone else, he didn’t want to rock the boat too hard this early on. A few kisses were just a few kisses, right?

“What’s got you in a mard?” Birdie chuckled, reaching out a dirtied finger to poke at his cheek. He dipped away slightly from the offending hand but didn’t put up much of a fight, reckoned she could be covered in mouldy milk and he’d still want to snog her senseless.

“Nothing, just thinking.” He told her honestly.

She hummed and leaned in closer, pea-pod now gone and her hands tucked into the pockets of her overalls. She was trying to be intimidating, playful. He liked seeing her so alive.

“Try not to hurt yourself there.”

George chuckled, heart beating quicker now. “Always so mean.”

“Hm, maybe. But you like me for it.” She shot back confidently.

I do.

“Keep on wishing, B.”

She snorted, and it would’ve been an ugly sound on anyone else, but this was her. His Birdie.

“Oh, I will.” She half-sung, eyes really shimmering now beneath the long lashes they so often hid themselves behind.

George couldn’t find it in himself to look away, lost on her.

Then a hand was touching his and he felt something press into the palm of his. Her soil covered fingernails danced over the inside of his wrist for a single second just as she leant in to press her soft lips to his cheek.

A peck, a smile, and then she was gone it seemed.

George stared off after her, watched the way her hair fell loosely and how the light only seemed to carve a path for her through the dimly lit hallway. She disappeared round the bend and he took a breath before glancing down into his hand.

His mouth dried up at the sight of the old metal lighter which now sat there. And carved ever so carefully into the metal casing at the very bottom was a simple ‘B+G’.

—

“Move over.” Someone grunted somewhere to the right and George struggled against the urge to elbow his way into a more comfortable position. “Tossers.”

He huffed a bit at that but shuffled further left anyway, creating some more room for the giant twat sat on the other end of the backseat in hopes that it’d shut him up. Louis and Birdie were right there between them, Lou half on top of B, and B half on top of him.

Ross seemed to have gotten the better end of the stick in reality, even if his oversized limbs had been crammed into the back with them. Matty and Adam were more than alright though, happy as Larry sat in the front, fiddling with the radio.

“Will you lot shut up? Might miss it.” Matty snipped, batting away Hann’s hand when he tried to turn up the dial.

“Fuck off, Matty.” Ross shot right back, still sodding squirming. “How the fuck did you even manage to bag the front seat anyway? You’re about the size of my left toe.”

Louis snorted loudly at that, whilst Matty sent Ross a scathing look full of sarky laughter. “It’s my fucking car, that’s why, dickhead.”

Just as Ross drew in another breath to retaliate, Birdie swooped in to save the day, holding out an arm across Louis to signal for Ross to pack it in. “You’re both being annoying, just shut up and stop swearing, yeah? Otherwise we’ll never hear the sodding radio and Denise will have all our heads.”

“Mum says a lot worse.” Louis intoned then, which had them all snickering and Matty high-fiving his little brother whilst looking proud. George hit his head against the window when Birdie ducked slightly to avoid being hit, she winced at the sound it made.

“Sorry, babe.” She whispered and leant in closer to rub the top of his head gently with a soft laugh. No one else was appeared go be paying much attention to them though, all the focus honed in on the radio.

At first, both him and Hann had argued against getting in the car- could’ve just as easily gathered around the stereo in the kitchen for this- but Matt, Birdie and Ross had been dead set on hearing it in the car.

“It’s got to be in the car! We can’t not hear it in the car!” Matty had argued, and not just for the sake of it, only to have then been cut off by B and her rapid agreement, “Exactly! It’s a car song! People only ever listen to the radio when they’re drivin’!” Her accent was always stronger the more determined she got. “So we’re listening to it in the car whether you lot wanna or not, I don’t care if your balls get squished or your elbows don’t fit. We are.”

And that had been it. Enough said.

“You’re alright.” George chuckled under his breath, taking her hand in his and pulling them both down into his lap. She seemed content enough to cuddle further into his side at that and he couldn’t even bring himself to mind, thumbing her knuckles whilst he rested his chin atop her head.

“Oh shit, here it is! It’s coming on!”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuuccck.”

“Shut the fuck up!!”

“Think I’m gonna shit myself.”

Birdie and Louis laughed at their many reactions and George could only cling on a little tighter to the hand that was keeping him grounded. Never had he felt so fucking sick with nerves.

“Shut up you lot, it’s on! It’s on!”

The car fell dead silent at Birdie’s interruption and they all seemed to lean forward in their seats simultaneously, as though it would give them a better chance at listening in.

“Yeah, and here’s a new one for you.” Huw Stephens’s voice rang out and George could barely believe that they were actually this close, “Just in, and from their recent EP titled Facedown, we’ve got the up and coming sound of The 1975 for you lovely ladies and gentlemen! Buzzing with this one boys, reckon the rest of you will be too. So here it is, this is BBC Radio 1 and up next is The City.”

The whole lot of them broke out into hollers and cheers when the intro played, the entire car bouncing on its wearing tires as they all started to prat about in their excitement. Ross close to shaking Hann’s chair out of its hinges, Louis jumping between the two front seats to turn the dial up even louder, Matty drumming loudly against the dash, Adam kicking his feet, and B, his beautiful B, screaming her heart out for them all as she laughed and clapped and started to sing as loudly as she possibly could alongside Matty’s voice that’d started playing through the speakers.

And all George could think was, fuck.

—

“You’ve gotta run faster!”

“I fucking am!”

“You’re not!” She laughed, the Californian sun warming every inch of her even as it begun to set, “Faster, G!”

“Please, none of that! Hear enough of it back in the bunks, thanks!” Came Matty’s witty quip, earning a few knowing laughs. George turned around to flip him off for it but Birdie appeared to have beaten him to it.

“Jealous much, Matthew?”

“Of G? ‘Course, darling!” Matty quipped as he moved across the sand to drape himself across her back, spliff caught between his fingers. “Should’ve jumped you way back when I had the chance.”

Birdie snorted and elbowed him lightly but didn’t force him away, “Meant of me, you twat. Figured if I hadn’t gotten there first, you might’ve tried your luck with G, Matt.”

“Oh how I wish!” Matty dramatised, sighing loudly as he casted a set of seductive eyes in George’s direction, “Always been gone on you though, our George. I never stood a chance.”

“Yeah, so piss off of her.” George told the curly haired idiot with a small smirk as he made his way back over, a bright orange kite still wrapped around his hand.

Matty took it as his chance to play the joker though and all but dived for him the second he got close enough, planting a sloppy kiss to the side of his face. George couldn’t help the unmanly sound that escaped him at the gesture and could only laugh along with the rest of them when he shoved the clingy lad off.

“Got me good, you prick.” He chuckled, swiping at his wet cheek.

“And that’s only the start of it, mate.” Matty winked, then made his way back over to where the rest of the band had sprawled about on the sand. “Just imagine it, G! I’d even let you top, you know. A proper giver me.”

Ross cackled at the face Georgemade and Hann rolled his eyes with a smile that couldn’t be helped when Matty dropped himself down beside him, though he took the offered joint with no fuss.

“Can just picture the utter chaos it’d cause.” Ross choked out, sighing happily as he kicked his legs out before him, grinning at the very thought.

“I’m alright, thanks.” George felt the need to mention as he wrapped an arm around Birdie’s waist, smiling when the girl melted into him, then let up on the string of the kite when her fingers asked for it.

It’d been her idea of course, the kites. Got three of them whilst they’d been stuck in sound check one morning and brought them back to the venue alongside a shit ton of food. They’d only remembered them a couple days later when everyone had decided to spend a free night out on the beach, just them drinking and enjoying what little time they had when not performing.

“Ah, well you’re the one who’ll be missing out, man!” Matty replied with a lazy smirk and George could only laugh, swaying slightly now as he rested his chin atop the girl’s sun-warmed hair.

“Reckon I’ve already got my hands quite full here, mate.”

“And what’s that meant to mean?” Birdie immediately questioned with a raised brow as she turned in his grip to better face him, “‘Cause I’m pretty sure it’s the other way round, mate.”

“Oh yeah?” George humoured her, he hadn’t even meant anything by it, loved her more than he did the air itself in fact, but it was always fun rilling her up a bit. “How so?”

“Well, you’re proper clingy for one.”

George hissed through his teeth as though wounded, whilst the others oohed.

“Got you there.” Hann snickered and the others appeared to agree. Was he really that bad?

“And two, you don’t think through half the shit you say sometimes.”

George raised a brow at that.

“Yeah, don’t fucking act like it ain’t true!” She argued with the tiny beginnings of a smile, “The amount of times I’ve had to talk you out of a corner. The lot of yous in fact.”

“Oi, this is rinse G hour, not us!” Matty frowned and threw a thumbs down at them. “TOMATO. TOMATO.”

With a snort, Birdie spun back towards the curly haired freak, “Did you just shout tomato?”

“Yeah,” Matty shrugged, nicking back the joint off Adam that had dwindled down to all but a nub, “Had none to throw, did I?”

Birdie looked towards the sky. “God save me.”

And just like that, the whole band started belting out a Sex Pistols classic in unison.

“God save the queen! She’s not a human being! And there’s no future! And England’s dreamin’!”

“Fucking idiots.” She sighed, but the attention soon diverged when a rowdy crowd started making themselves known a little further down the beach.

They all shared a look, knowing it’d be best to head back to the bus before they were soon spotted and mobbed, all groaning unhappily as they forced themselves up onto their feet. George started on the clear up, seeing as though he was already standing, Birdie following just behind him whilst the other boys gathered up the beer and whatever else they’d procured.

Starting the trek back to the bus, stationed just past the marina, George allowed the others to walk on ahead a bit and fell into step with B, wrapping an arm around her shoulders whilst they slowly followed behind.

“You know, you looked proper fit running up and down that beach.”

He chuckled at the sudden remark and let her wind an arm around his waist to better allow her body to mould into his. “Yeah, kite an’ all?”

He felt, more than heard her laugh, before she hummed. The vibration of it rippled across the skin just beneath her head. “Defo. Though you could’ve done without all these extra layers.” She replied, then tugged at the hem of his tee to further drill home her point.

“It’s autumn, B, fucking chilly too. You really expect me to go full Baywatch on the beach just to appease you, ey?”

“‘Course.” She answered and he could tell she was smirking by the wave in her tone. “You look good, should show it off more often.”

He didn’t have much of a reply to offer that. Though it wasn’t because she’d caught him off guard, per say, it was just that he still wasn’t used to the way she so openly complimented him, on everything he did, to each and every way he looked. He’d never had that before. But she gave it to him freely, without cost, without expectation.

“Stop flirting with me.” Is what he decided on when he couldn’t find it in himself to dampen the grin he was now sporting. She peered up at him, wearing a sly smile of her own.

“Why, does it get you all flustered?” She teased, obviously pleased with herself as she poked his ribs. He pinched her hip softly in retaliation and laughed when she wrinkled her nose up at him.

“No, I’m just resisting the urge to bend you over on this beach.”

But hey, just because her comments had him flushing like a teenage boy, didn’t mean that he couldn’t give it back twice as bad. Plus, he loved seeing her melt, the way her cheeks would tint that pretty pink colour and how she’d start to chew on her bottom lip simply to keep from smiling.

“You’ll pay for that when we’re back on the bus.”

“Promise?” He snarked back with another chuckle, tugging her in closer.

She hummed once more, fingers playing with the hand that fell from her shoulder now. “Have to keep it down though, don’t need Matty interrupting.”

George’s lip curled, “Nah, on second thought, I’ll just wait for a venue loo stall.”

He laughed happily when she elbowed his side. “Charming.”

—

It was mayhem. Proper, honest to God mayhem. And he’d no idea how things had gotten so out of hand, who half the people traipsing through his living room even were, but he was fucking happy if nothing else. Over the moon, even.

“Geee!”

George glanced to his left just in time to spot a drunken Matty stumbling his way on over, the man clung to his shoulders the first chance he got and grinned up at him. He reeked of beer and wine.

“So fucking pleased for you, mate. Did I mention that already? Just, proper buzzing for you.” The drunkard rambled, eyes squinted from the extremity of his smile.

George chuckled and wrapped an arm around the shorter lad, happy to accommodate his need for comfort as well as keep him upright. Matty was touchy on a good day, but when you’d got a good few drinks in him he was like a sloth to a tree branch.

“You did mention it, mate.” George replied and withheld his amusement when Matty frowned, “But I appreciate it. Really.”

The frown then etched itself into a smile at that, all fond and goofy as Matty wiggled even closer into his embrace, “Good. Fucking deserve it. You and her both, yeah?”

With a harsh sallow, George felt that tightness he’d been feeling in his chest as of late rise. “Thanks, mate.” He croaked out and then coughed to clear his throat.

Deserve. It was a difficult thing for him to come to terms with, deeming what he did and didn’t deserve. A struggle he’d been dealing with his whole life, and which had only tripled in recent years. The flat was something he’d earned, something both he and Birdie had talked about since they’d both been teenagers. An escape. But they’d already gone and done that, hadn’t they? Left Wilmslow behind, left everyone who didn’t matter behind. Did it make them better than? Safer now? George’s mind was always at war with his head, but as of late, as the band only grew, and as life continued on, it only seemed to get louder.

“Fuckin’ sickkk too!”

Matty’s drunken nonsense pulled him back from his scattered thoughts then and George smiled down at his mate. The flat was sick, they’d spent weeks searching for the right one, him and B, travelled all over London looking, and then they’d found this one. It wasn’t huge, nothing too fancy or grand, but it was home. And neither one of them had ever had much of that.

“Ross, tell him! Tell him it’s sick!” Matty shouted again, having just spotted Ross making his way through the crowd. The giant looked well on his way to pissed too, but seemed to be holding on quite well. George reckoned it was simply down to his height.

“It’s sick!” Ross easily repeated, grinning and letting Matty grab onto him too before the idiot saw someone else he knew and started walking away, calling out promises to find them again soon. Ross leaned in to him then and murmured, “What’s sick?”

George breathed a chuckle through his nose and just shook his head, Ross knew better than to prod any further.

“Flat is looking good by the way, mate. Dunno who half of these fuckers are though.” The bassist commented, glancing out around the room.

George could only agree, “Fuck if I do. Pretty sure Grimmy invited a couple dozen of his mates with him.”

Ross started nodding rapidly at that, raising his beer as he did. “Yeah, spotted that Harry Styles in your loo.”

“In my loo?”

“In your loo.”

“The fuck were you doing in my bathroom with Harry Styles, Ross?” George questioned his mate, bewildered now, but even with the state of him, George knew that Ross could make friends with just about anyone. Send the man into a den full of hungry hyenas and he’d walk out with a pal for life.

Ross simply shrugged, “He was coming out, I was going in, he liked my hair.”

George lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips, as though that made any sense, “Oh right, yeah.”

Ross hummed then perked up again, “Here she is. The lady of the hour!”

Following the direction of the man’s gaze, George grinned and felt the rest of the room dampen down to a droning droll around him as Birdie walked on over, bottle of wine in tucked under her arm.

“Wahey! Would you look at that!” Ross greeted her cheerfully, roping the girl into a warm hug, “You’ve finally come to see me!”

“I saw you-“ She paused and hiccuped with a half-arsed glare, “-ages ago, you big knobhead.”

“Oof.” Ross sounded, clasping a hand over his hurt heart, “Alright, sorry! Just missed you is all, only had like five minutes with you by the door.”

Birdie pouted then, and George knew she was truly sloshed by the real tears he saw well in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Ro! I haven’t had the chance. There’s all these people here annoying me.” She waved her hand around aimlessly above her head, squinting as she did, before she then huffed. She turned towards George then, all but stepping on his toes to get in his space, not that he minded, “Did you know One Direction are here? In my flat?”

“Our flat.” George corrected with a tiny grin whilst she necked another few gulps of wine.

“What I said, ain’t it?” Birdie retorted, glancing about the room again. “Can you believe Zayn fucking Malik tried to give me a joint too? And I said-“ She hiccuped again then and George reached out to steady her slight;y, “-I told him, right, I said but you’re just a baby! And he laughed at me, G. Laughed! I almost told him that that one song of theirs was shit, but I didn’t. Felt bad for even thinking it. You know?”

Ross was snickering away to the left of them, obviously pleased with the state of their best mate, whilst George attempted to cajole the wine bottle from out under her arm.

“He’s the fit one, ain’t he?”

“They’re all bloody fit, Ross!” Birdie argued with the idiot whilst George sighed, wondering where on Earth he’d found the pair of them, “Got to be ‘cause all them girls love ‘em. Like you lot, I ‘spose.”

That startled quite the laugh out of Ross and he swayed nearer, “You ‘spose? I’m fucking hurt here, are you saying we’re not fit, B?”

She rolled her eyes as though she was annoyed with him for not understanding what she’d meant and groaned, “No, you are fit. Just not as fit as them, yeah?”

George snorted but had finally managed to snag the bottle loose, she frowned and went to take it back, though he seemed to be able to distract her with his next question, “Not fit enough am I, Birdie? Why d’ya not ask one of them to move in with you then?”

The crease between her brow deepened at his ask and her hands came up to wrap themselves around his neck, “‘Cause they’re babies! I’ve just said this, G. Aren’t you listenin’?”

“Think they’re only a couple years younger.” Ross countered but he put his hands up in surrender when Birdie retorted with, “Exactly. Babies, Ross! Tiny little goblin children.”

“Right, yeah. ‘Course.”

George sighed again, “Think it’s time for you to get to bed, B.”

“What? No!” The girl squawked and stumbled in his hold as she reeled backwards, “I’m fine, completeeeely fine! So fine, in fact, that I bet I could do a backflip. Right here. Right now.”

“You can’t do a backflip even when sober, sweetheart.”

“I can too.” She pouted, retracting her arms from around his neck even though he’d yet to relinquish his hold on her. He laughed at her adamancy on the subject though and determined that he’d have to remind her once she’d sobered up.

“Sure, B.” He soothed, carding a gentle hand through her messy hair and tucking a loose strand behind her ear.

“You’re really pretty though, G. Like so pretty I feel the need to bark or something. Like a dog would at a squirrel.”

Ross actually lost his footing upon hearing that and spat what little dregs of drink that remained in his mouth out onto their brand new floor. “Bark??” He questioned her, and even though George was just as baffled as he was, he had the fucking common sense not to quiz a drunken twat. No matter how lovely they were.

“Was that a bit much?” Birdie asked him, smiling dopily now as she started to deflate, leaning more heavily into George’s side. Ross made a face and George cut his eyes at the lad. But the girl didn’t seem to notice nor care and simply carried on, “Do you reckon Cillian Murphy would let me marry him? He was well fit in that movie, weren’t he? That one with all them dreams and Tom Hardy… Fuck, I’d fuck Tom hardy. Wouldn’t you, G?”

George pressed his lips together to keep himself from outwardly reacting, doubting that she’d be all that susceptible to being laughed at, then said, “Yeah Birdie, be mad not to.”

He’d expected Ross to find amusement in her words too but only found the man to be nodding along solemnly, George tightened his mouth to hold back an ugly snort.

“I know!” Birdie went on, and George was practically holding her up now, even as she hiccuped again. “Oh, but he’s not as fit as you, G. Especially when you start doing that thing with your-”

A hand was all too quick to muffle her admission then, and from the dying light in Ross’s eyes George was beyond thankful that he hadn’t given the prick the opportunity to lord something so incriminating over their heads for the rest of their sorry lives.

“Alright, lovely, time for bed, yeah?”

“Oi, she weren’t done, were you, B? What were you gonna say just then, sweetheart?” Ross tried and barely even reacted to the swift kick George gave his leg whilst Birdie pried his hand away from her mouth.

“I don’t remember. But if I do, I’ll call for you! Yeah?”

Ross nodded in quick succession and George took the chance to start leading his girlfriend away from the rest of the party.

He sighed in utter relief once they reached the last door at the very end of the hallway and shuffled them on through. Their bedroom was halfway through the unpacking stage at the moment, just the bed and a dresser had been put together, so he had to be extremely careful when trying to manoeuvre their way past the many boxes that littered the floor.

“Alright there, love?” George questioned after he’d gone and propped the girl down on the edge of the mattress, already making the effort to start peeling off her socks as well as the dress she’d picked out earlier that evening. She looked stunning in it, even now with her hair in disarray and a small stain marring the collar.

She hummed softly in response.

“Tired?” He asked.

“Tired.”

“Thought so,” George chuckled quietly, pulling back the covers so that she could climb in, “Had fun though, yeah?”

“So much.” She answered him, rubbing her eyes sleepily which only removed the mascara she’d popped on whilst getting ready and darkened the underneaths of them. “You?”

“You were there, weren’t you? So ‘course I did.”

“Sap.” She laughed, reaching out to run a hand through his unruly hair. “Love you.”

He smiled and released an airy breath, “Love you. Too much, I reckon.”

She grinned up at him and shuffled further under the duvet, George decided to grab a makeup wipe and help clear up her face, knowing she’d be all stroppy come morning when her skin was horrible and the pillowcases were stained.

“Stay still, you weirdo.” He scolded with a light chuckle when she started to wiggle about beneath his careful hand, “I’m just tryna get this eye shit off for you.”

“Oh.” She whispered, sleep lining every inch of her voice, eyes still wound shut as she hunched her shoulders up towards her ears. “Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, love.”

“But you’re so lovely to me, G. Always.” She sighed, smiling softly.

“What you deserve, ain’t it?” He replied in the same hushed tone, and there was that word again.

“Hm. I’m glad I have you. And our home too.”

George could only smile as he popped the stained wipe into the little bin nearby.

“Me too, Birdie.” He admitted, sliding in beside the girl to wrap her up in his arms. He could hardly care less about the party still going on outside. He’d locked the door on their way in and Hann had yet to leave, so he was sure that things would soon sort themselves out. Besides, Ross knew where they’d wandered off to if anyone asked so there was nothing more to worry about.

Nothing at all.

—

He could hardly take it.

It was quiet. Eerily so. But his head was too fucking loud. Way too fucking loud.

He’d been spiralling as of late. He knew it. Could read the signs as easily as he could the morning paper, but it’d been a long while since the last. Before he’d left home even.

But he was. Spiralling.

He was free-falling. Had lost his footing somewhere on the curb outside and had yet to land, yet to catch his breath.

But everything was good.

Apart from the not eating. The not sleeping.

Everything had been good.

He was good. Things were good. Things were fine.

Fine. Fine. Fine.

Why was he spiralling again?

He wanted to scream. Throw his fist through a wall and leave it at that. Could feel the agitation he constantly felt cloud him like a cloak.

His foot started tapping away then, and his fingers soon followed. He itched for a drink, something to ease it all, so he stood from where he’d been holed up by his desk all day and stormed through the flat into the living room.

There was a bar cart of sorts set up there, between the sofa and the tele. A wheeled antique cabinet Birdie had seen on one of their evening escapades and reckoned it would serve well when hosting the alcoholics they called friends.

George paused by it for a split second before he flipped the doors open, rattling the bottles inside as another round of thoughts plagued his mind. Friends. Did he have any that weren’t hers?

He grunted and dragged one of the newer JD bottles out, the glass clinking against every other in his fidgety haste. He kicked it closed behind him and wandered his way out onto the small balcony, one of the many things that had sold them on the place all those years ago, and unscrewed the lid.

It was late evening now. Seven, eight-ish or so, at least that’s what he reckoned. The streetlights were lit on the narrow street below and it was just beginning to spit, he raised the bottle up towards the Heavens, toasting the weather’s sardonic humour, before he necked a few gulps.

He hated it. Hated everything as of late. The way he looked. How things sounded. When people would smile at him. Joke. Talk.

He felt trapped. Knotted up with baggage, his head the stone weighing him down. He felt scared. Terrified, even. And he couldn’t for the life of him make sense of any of it.

He sounded like a fucking prick. He knew that. But he didn’t much care, because what was the point in caring anyway? When they’d yet to even start on the next album they’d promised. Yet to even write another song. It was too much. All he ever felt was pressure. Coming at him from all sides. When he was in the studio. When he was at home.

No one could leave him the fuck alone.

“George?”

A voice called out distantly, he was quick to down another shot of the murky liquid and squeeze his eyes tightly shut to simply give himself a second of reprieve, before he stepped back through the balcony doors and into the warmth of the flat.

He grunted in reply after he’d tucked the bottle up onto a high shelf and switched on the tele, if only to make it seem like he hadn’t been stewing in his own head since he last seen her that morning.

“There you are, picked up takeaway on my way home. Figured you might not have eaten yet.” Birdie greeted as she waltzed through the living room, pecking his cheek before heading on over to the kitchen. He watched through the transom window as she placed a white carrier bag onto the counter then make a grab for the plates in one of the higher cabinets, coat already having been shucked off in the hallway and slippers on her feet. “You get much done today then?” She asked him, “Spoke with Matty on my lunch break, he’ll be in London again next week.”

George could only hum, eyes focused intently on the tele screen but not taking any of it in.

“You even watching that? Sound ain’t even turned on, you dafty.” She laughed from the other side of the wall. He heard her riffle through the drawers for something or other, but didn’t reply. “G, babe. You alright?”

“Fine.”

Fine. Fine. Fine.

He had to force himself to breath.

“Fine? Don’t sound it, love. What’s up?” She questioned further, having stopped what she was doing to wander back in.

He gritted his teeth. She only ever prodded. Poking and poking. More and more. Incessant. Never knew when to give the fuck up.

“I’m fine. Just said that, didn’t I?”

She paused, surprised by the bite behind his words. He swallowed heavily, the bitter twang of whiskey still stained his tongue, his teeth.

“Don’t have to be like that, G. Was just asking.” Was what she replied with after a long and silent minute had passed.

George could only scoff, throwing the tv remote he still clung to somewhere onto he sofa behind him. “Yeah, well don’t. I’ve said I’m fine. So leave it, will you?”

She made this face, the same one she always did when she was hurt, but not anything teary or sad, just angered. “This what I’ve got to look forward to each time I come home, then? You and these foul fucking moods you work yourself into. What, all ‘cause tours stopped and the album’s not coming along the way you hoped? Well, boo-fucking-hoo, George. That’s life. Not everything’s perfect. And you don’t get to sit there and take it all out on me, day in and day-fucking-out.”

“Just fuck off, Birdie. I don’t need your shit on top of everything else.” George snipped back and wasn’t fully prepared for the way she shot towards him, snatching up the tele remote to switch the whole thing off just so he’d look at her.

“Don’t call me that when you’re being the prick. I haven’t done a thing wrong, only asked after you.”

George rolled his eyes, already tired of it all. “Leave it out.”

He then huffed and went to grab the set of silver keys that had been left on the console.

She threw her hands up in the air, shoulders hunching. “What the fuck, G? Where’re you going now? You can’t just leave like this.”

“The fuck I can’t.” He snorted unkindly, shaking his head as he shoved the keys into his pocket and made his way back through the house to get to his studio.

“George.” He heard her call after him, but not too far behind. “At least tell me where you’re going so I know you’ll be safe. You’ve been drinking again so you can’t fucking drive. Call a cab or something, head to Hann’s.”

His fists were at his temple then, drilling themselves a hole there, if only to subside some of the torment he felt his mind swimming in. She was at the door a second later, looking lost and hurt, sad now, not angry.

“G, please.”

He didn’t know why but he just laughed a little to himself after having heard her plea, hands falling aimlessly to his sides as he shook his head once more. “I can’t fucking do this anymore.” He heard himself say.

She sighed, this heavy thing that weighed her down before it expanded out into the rest of the room, almost as if it wanted to suffocate not just her but him too. “Can’t do what?”

“This!” He said harshly, hardly even sparing her a glance as he begun to pack away his laptop, his mixing shit, and whatever else cluttered the desk. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“I just can’t keep fucking pretending! Can’t-” He faltered and faffed his hand about in midair before throwing it downwards to shove a charger into a case, “Can’t carry on like I’m fine. Like everything’s fucking fine, all the fucking time. Like it’ll all work out. Like this is where I’m meant to be.”

A long stretch dragged out between them and all that could be heard was the traffic of the inner city from just outside their flat. He used to love it, but despised it in that second.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you want me to do, George. What you need to make things better.”

He was shaking now, trembling even. Noticed it as his hand faltered when going to pick up the hard-drive sat behind a frame she’d gifted him for his twentieth birthday, one that had sat proudly on his desk ever since he’d unwrapped it.

“I’m gonna go to LA for a bit.” He heard himself murmur whilst he dragged his gaze away from the smiling duo behind the glass. “Stay with Matty, work on the album, explore some of the options out there.”

“For how long?”

Her voice had never seemed so small.

“I don’t know.” He returned and forced himself to continue packing up, tucking his phone into his back pocket and breathing as much as his hollow lungs would allow. “Just, I don’t know, alright. Don’t wait for me, yeah? I’ll figure it out.”

A surprised albeit wet scoff bypassed her mouth then, “What’s that meant to mean? Are you ending things? Is that what this is?”

He squeezed his eyes shut again, if only to appease the swirling storm going on inside his head. His chest ached with the very motion and he fought not to spare her another look as he turned around to head down the hallway.

“George! You can’t just say shit like that and leave.” She shouted, though there were tears in her voice. “If you’re ending things with me, at least have the balls to tell me straight.”

“I don’t fucking know what I’m doing! Alright?” He shouted back at her, the pounding in his head, the whispers, growing in tenfold as he spun around on his heel to stare back the only girl he’d ever loved. “I feel trapped! And I fucking hate it! I don’t want to leave but what else is there? Stay here and drive myself fucking insane?”

She appeared to fold in on herself then, just looked back at him with eyes of dying wildfire and he had to live with the knowledge that he’d been the one to snuff them out.

“We were happy. And I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

The anger was long gone now, replaced only by a hot and heavy pit of grief. “But what if I’m not in love with you anymore?”

George watched her break into pieces, right there on the hallway floor before his very eyes. And he couldn’t even reach out to hold her together, to take back the cruel words.

“I love you.” He croaked, “But-”

“You’re just not sure if you’re in love with me.” She finished for him, wet tears hanging from her chin and drowning out what little flames she’d had left behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

It was all he could think to say.

“Sorry.” She mimicked, “Why? Why now?”

He swallowed, but there was a rock stuck there at the very top of his windpipe. He couldn’t get the right words out. Felt as though all his organs were failing.

She shook beneath his hands and it was that reaction that had him realising that he’d crossed the floor to meet her. He was crying too he found, because when he stared into her eyes she was all blurred and disfigured.

She clung to the front of his t-shirt in that next second and he wound his hands around her wrists, not pulling them away, just holding.

“Please.”

And everything inside him shattered with that one word.

Splintered his entire being, in truth, and sent whatever was left of him ricocheting outwards. She’d gotten caught in the crossfire it seemed and he could only lean in a little closer to press his lips to her forehead whilst she sobbed all she had left to give into his shoulder.

—

Her head was rested against his arm and George did his very best not to move a single inch, even with the turbulence of the plane shaking them this way and that, in hopes not to wake her.

The doctor had given her the okay to fly and although the lot of them had been all too happy spending a couple of weeks hiding away in sunny Spain, working on the album and recovering, it was nice to finally be headed home.

The only thing that had him on edge though, was the life waiting there for them. What would happen once the plane finally landed and they were back on familiar ground? He questioned how long it would take for her to realise the massive mistake she’d made. If she would end things the same way he had.

Probably not, she was a lot of things but cruel had never been a word he’d use to describe her.

He glanced downwards then, towards her. She’d taken the window seat, of course, but thankfully he’d been left with an empty seat on the other side of him. The rest of the boys were stuck a little further up, Ross and Matty conked the fuck out, whilst Hann rewatched one of the many Lord of the Ring films.

She looked peaceful whenever she slept and it always seemed to settle some anxious stirring deep within him when he saw her like that. Reckoned it was only because he could be certain that she was fine, that nothing could harm her with him sat this close. Or at least that’s what he used to think. Couldn’t really claim that now though after he’d been the one to tear her to pieces.

George gripped the hand he held a little tighter with that thought, but not enough to wake her.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into London. The local time is 3:36. Please turn off all electronic devices and stow them away until we have arrived at the gate. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisles clear until we are parked at the gate. Thank you for flying with us, we hope you have enjoyed your flight.’

He drew in a nervous breath at the overhead announcement, but gathered himself enough to then shift in his seat slightly. He knew that if he didn’t wake her now he’d only drag it out, hold out hope that they’d soon fly through a strange portal and into a whole other world instead of landing in Heathrow like planned.

“Hey, B.” George called softly, jostling the girl sat beside him ever so gently. She sniffed and then took a deep breath in before stretching herself outwards, “B, love. Wake up, we’re landing soon.”

“Hm?” She questioned sleepily, and George could only chuckle as she forced her head further into the darkness his shoulder had to offer.

“About to land, babe.” He repeated again, stroking the back of her head as she continued to rouse herself, “Reckon those pills worked a treat, you passed out twenty minutes in.”

“Praise modern medicine.” Is the reply Birdie gave him and he snorted in return, burying the sound in the top of her head.

“Feeling alright?”

She hummed into the muscle of his chest before pulling away to blink sleepily up at him. “Yeah, neck doesn’t even ache that much.”

“Reckon that’s ‘cause you used me as a pillow.”

With a wrinkle of her nose, the girl then smiled, “I’ll be sure to return the gesture in the cab back then.”

George’s thoughts seemed to still at that and the anxiety he’d been shoving way deep down rose up like the City of Atlantis thought to if Armageddon ever did occur. It must’ve shown on his face too, because Birdie was frowning the next time he glanced over at her.

“What’s up?” She asked him, voice still full of sleep, eyes still bleary.

He opened his mouth to wave her worries away, but found he couldn’t.

“G?” She prodded with a small but beautiful smile. “Go on, you can tell me.”

“I know.” He murmured, but still felt conflicted as his gaze dragged between her own. “I’m just. I-” He lost himself in his head again, each breath growing harsher.

“Me too.” He heard her admit.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled, smiling again but this time she took his hand in hers. George let it ground him. “It’ll be strange, but we’re together, yeah? Everything will work out.”

He was stuck there, frozen in place, thousands of miles up in the sky, and honest to God gone on this girl. How he’d managed to find her in the first place, he didn’t know, but to have lost her and then won her back also? Well, it gave him the answer to a question he’d been asking for years.

What did he deserve?

What did anyone deserve, really?

He didn’t truly know, but happiness felt like a pretty fair answer.

“I love you, you know that?”

She laughed at him, not unkindly, and he felt her squeeze his hand. “I do. And you’ll be pleased to know it’s very much reciprocated.”

George rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips, “Oh, lovely that. Thanks.”

Birdie grinned as she chuckled, pulling him in close to gift him a quick kiss.

“Love you too, you ginormous sap!”

He could only laugh in retort, shaking his head before he dragged her back in for something a little more substantial.

George felt, more than saw, the grin he was sure matched his and found that he didn’t ever want to pull away again.

Epilogue>

76 notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 1 year

Text

Baby Honey- Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

F!Reader, rockstar!Soap, mentions of drug consumption, rockstar au

Here's the thing: he still writes songs about me. My friends really like his voice but his tunes the most, they pretend they don’t like it at all because of me. One thing is for sure I know he isn’t over me. He always calls me drunk, usually late at night. But after so many tries and many more errors, I gave up and that's when I started dating Simon a while back. He is a wealthy guy, he is really good to me, and he has taught me patience and most of all to never underestimate myself. Now don’t get me wrong, I’d never use Simon for his money, he is too good of a man and he’s very smart, besides he knows money isn't my thing.

“Now I'm getting older R/N, am I getting over you?” I can hear his smooth but deep chuckle through the phone.

“I guess we’ll never know darling” I answer and soon hang up. “You know, I can fix this problem right?” Simon says as he wraps his arms around me. He is always so caring and understanding, and so comfortable. To be completely honest I still want him in my life. I miss that part of my life. The rockstar's girl. The late nights. The bars. The drunk sex. The drunk makeout sessions. They drunk everything. The guy I was in love with. The way his blue eyes would soften when his eyes and mine met. His smile and voice. All of it.

I swear I’m not thinking about you, but it feels good to think of you.

“Let’s go to bed beautiful” I nod and walk to bed.

~2015~

“I think I’m in love!” his words slurred. “Me too! I love you!” I said, but before I went for another drink I realized that he didn’t mean he loved me, he was talking about the drug he was about to consume. That's when I walked away, his sober friends looked at me, with apologetic eyes. There was one guy who understood me, a dark-haired, man with a cute accent. “Take care of yourself.” He knew that, that was my last straw, and that I would definitely not come back this time. “Thank you for everything,” I responded.

My arms made their way to his body, “Don’t come back, you deserve better R/N.” was all he told me. “I won’t,” I whispered and once I broke the hug and made my way to the door, I took a last glance. This isn’t what I deserve. I left and will not look back.

His POV

I never saw her after that night, or maybe that morning. Honestly, I was so fucked up at the time that my last memory with her is still a mystery to me. The guys blame me for it. Our drummer König almost quit the day she left. Actually, the four of them did, I had to go to rehab if I wanted the band back together. I did and it's the reason I’m only allowed to drink 5 beers per month now. That's usually the day I call her, and tell her everything.

“Oi, who's ready for another gig this weekend.”

“Price, you know what day the gig falls on, right?” I heard their not-so-secretive conversation. Price shakes his head. “It's the day R/N left,” Gaz spoke. “All right lads, let's get going," Krueger said. They always made me remember her just so I could learn my lesson. A few hours back when me and the guys were shopping for our upcoming tour I saw her. She was with this tatted fella. He was much larger than me, he was more built and to make matters worse, when she looked up at him she smiled. Like really smiled. When her eyes met him I could already tell she loved him, true love. At some point, I heard her laugh and it was him who was making her laugh. She hugged him and in that moment I could tell she felt comfortable. He held the door for her, something I never did. He listened to her, and would just stare and smile. And when she got excited he would too. Something I apparently never did. I was never good to her. But no one will ever know her sweet spots like me. “I love you sunshine,” he told her, I hope he knows she hates nicknames like that. “I love you most handsome,” she held his hand. “I love it when you call me that.” She smiled and I could hear her smile widen. Maybe after all she loved the nicknames. I wonder why she never told me. And why does he call her sunshine?

Her POV-

~The night she met him.~

“Hey gorgeous” the tall blue-eyed man spoke. “Leave me alone.” I hated nicknames from men who wanted nothing more but an adventure. If I was going to go all soft for a man it had to be with the right one.

His POV

~Present day~

“Mate it's been years, c’mon Gaz found the perfect suitcase for you.” He pulled me in the opposite direction. Once I met with the rest, they handed me a beer. “For the trouble aye.”

“Thanks, lads,” I opened the bottle and started drinking. Once we had made it back to the studio, I started playing with my guitar. “Oh, I know he’s got the money baby honey does he make your night? Is it true he doesn’t touch you in the place the way I know you like? And I swear I’m not thinking about you all the time-”

fuck

“C’mon, you got this” Gaz said. “Just today, yesterday, every day and tomorrow night” I finished.

She took over me like it was nothing. Just the thought of seeing her with him hurt. She looks so happy when I’m not with her. Like that night in New York with Gaz. They had gone to that library because it was on her bucket list. I was too fucked up to care at the time. I followed them around. Saw that they were reading a book, her smile was so bright, that he looked over at her and smiled. They laughed. When they stepped outside I hid.

“Thank you for doing this with me.” She embraced him and kissed his cheek. Part of me wanted to come out of my hiding and punch him, but when I saw her and how happy she was I knew I couldn’t ruin a night like that for her. Neither of them knew I was there. “Why the nickname baby honey?” König asked. I stared at the wall.

“Her eyes in the sun looked like honey. And when she cried her eyes would get big like a baby and well that’s how my secret nickname for her became that.” Gaz made his way over to me. “She was the best.” He hugged me and made his way out. “I fucked a friendship for him huh,” I looked at Zain and then at Price. “Big time.”

“I also fucked up my love life.”

I finished.

We finished.

She continued with life, moved to a place that fit her best and for me, well, I stayed in the same place, in hopes she came back. I still wait for her. So much so that I leave my door unlocked, maybe she forgot her keys, and that way she can come in. I left her pillowcase the same. What if she missed it. And her favourite dress still hangs in my closet. The same dress she wore the night we met. Maybe then she remembered our moments and she’d leave that guy. Maybe just maybe my baby honey, with her gorgeous, pure and breathtaking mind would come back.

A/N: wrote the name Simon in 2019, but changed the rest(to fit the story)...crazy to think years ago I was just a cod player and not a writer..for them.

54 notes · View notes

cinemastyles-blog · 1 year

Text

What Happens on the Tour Bus, Stays on the Tour Bus

Summary: A Wattpad request by mysticalrosean - “Ok so I was thinking it would be frat boy Harry and what happens is a fan wins like a free pass to spend the day with the band. Then Harry starts flirting with her throughout the day a lot and she does too, then they sleep together in the tour bus??Also can u make it so that Harry is dominant because thats so good haha”

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, flirting, biting/hickies, sex with people around, unprotected sex, hair pulling, choking, slight angst, filth

Master

FRAT BOY HARRY

“Hi, my name is y/n. I won the contest you guys were doing.” You hand the security guard the ticket stating the information and he nods, “Okay. Right this way miss.”

Your nerves are skyrocketing.

You’re about to meet the boys of One Direction.

Harry.

Oh god, you think, I’m about to meet Harry.

Your nerves cause your body to buzz with excitement, the physical shaking is quite noticeable at this point.

“Don’t be nervous, love. They’re harmless.” The security guard jokes and you laugh, “Okay.”

He knocks on the door and you hear the boys yell on the other side.

This is it.

The door opens and there stands Paul, “Yeah?”

“This is y/n. She won the best fan art contest.”

“Oh, yeah. They told us you were coming today.” Paul gives you a smile and turns around to talk to the boys but they’re gone.

“They’re getting on my nerves today.” Paul grumbles with a laugh, “Follow me.” Paul motions for you to follow him and you do.

You walk down the halls of the arena they’ll be performing in tonight.

“Incoming!” You hear one of them yell.

Harry runs and leaps onto Paul’s back, laughing and yelling along with Niall and Louis.

“Harry.” Paul says, trying to stay calm.

Harry’s eyes meet you and he instantly falls off of Paul’s back, brushing off his shirt and crossing his arms, “This the girl who did the drawing?”

You raise your eyebrows, surprised by his attitude, “Yeah, I am.”

“We absolutely loved it.” Harry smiles and walks over to you holding his hand out, “I’m Harry.” He brings your knuckles up to his lips and presses them to your skin.

You can feel the heat in your cheeks firing up, “Hi Harry.” You smile and look over at Niall and Louis.

“Hey, I’m Louis. Nice to meet you, love. Sick drawing by the way. Best one we’ve seen in a while.”

You smile and nod, “Thank you. That really means a lot.”

“No really, you’re incredible. How’d you learn to draw like that?” Niall asks walking up to you, “I’m Niall.”

You nod and shrug, “I just kinda picked up a pencil one day and started drawing.. so I guess I’m self taught?”

“Amazing.” Niall shakes his head, “That’s crazy.”

You laugh and look back over at Harry who has his arms behind his back and his eyes are scanning over your body, “I- I.. um.. I have these for you guys.. Zayn and Liam, too.”

“They’re in the dressing room. I’ll go get them.” Louis walks away yelling for them, “Oi, lads. I need ya!”

“Here is yours, Niall.” You hand the small canvas to Niall and grab Harry’s, “And Harry..” you hand him his canvas and his hand lays on yours. Your eyes meet his and he has a smirk on his lips, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

He drags his hand against yours as he takes the canvas, inspecting it with his lip pulled between his teeth, “Beautiful art done by a beautiful girl.”

He winks and Niall smacks his chest, “Harry. Don’t be flirting with her. She just got here, you’ll scare her off.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head, “she won’t be going anywhere.”

You bite your lip, knowing he’s right.

Meeting them went a lot different than you ever expected. You and Harry have a connection.

With just a simple touch of his hand on hours, you felt like you belonged to him.

——

“So Niall says you taught yourself how to draw?” Zayn says leaning forward picking up the canvas again to look, “That’s honestly very impressive.”

You smile, “Yeah, I guess I just have a natural talent for it. For some people it’s singing and dancing but for me, I guess it’s this.” You point to the boys’ canvases laying on the table.

“It’s very good. I like it a lot.” Zayn nods in approval and leans back.

Harry can’t keep his eyes off of you. His gaze burns holes through you, constantly keeping you on edge.

“Boys. Sound check in ten.” Paul knocks on the door before he leaves and I look around at them, “So am I here for just a few hours or?”

“You’re here the whole day.” Liam says with a smile, “maybe you can sketch us something to keep on the tour bus while we do this, yeah?”

“I actually didn’t bri-“

You’re cut off by Louis making an off beat drum sound with his mouth and zig zagging a sketch book in his hands, “Ta-Da!”

“Oh you guys shouldn’t have.” You pout and take it from Louis, “This will be dedicated for you guys and you guys only.” You laugh and flip through the pages, “I love getting new sketch books. Thank you so much.”

“Not a problem.”

“Of course.”

“Very welcome.”

“You deserve it.”

“I’m excited to see what you come up with.” Liam says as he stands up, “Alright. Y/N, you can come sit in the seats if you want.”

You nod, “Sounds good.”

You grab your bag and put the sketch book into it. Harry waits for you by the door, watching you.

You turn and stop, a smile playing with your lips.

There’s definitely something there and you both know it.

“Since they’re not around to tell me no.” Harry walks up to you and semi roughly places his lips on yours as he wraps an arm around your waist. The sketch book gets squished between your bodies, but you didn’t mind.

“You’re mine.” Harry whispers against your lips, “Remember that.”

He leans back, his eyes scan over your face, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He smirks and steps back, “After you.”

Star struck, you manage to make your way out of the room and down the hall. Harry walks beside you, his hand brushing against yours every now and then.

“There you are, Styles, What are ya doin, harassing the girl?” Louis asks as he puts his ear piece in.

Harry laughs, “No. I was going to the bathroom.”

He glance over at you and winks. You nod while trying to hide a smirk and walk down the stage and over to the seats. You sit a couple rows back so you can see the stage fully. You prop your feet up on the back of the chair in front of you and rest your gift from the boys on your thighs.

You tap the eraser part of the pencil against the blank page, thinking of how you want to start.

A little while into sound check, your eyes keep meeting Harry’s. He’s sitting on the one platform, leaning forward and his eyes are fixated on you.

You bite your lip, trying to stay focused but his gaze is strong.

You keep looking up at him, smirking and smiling every once in a while, rolling your eyes playfully at him.

You’d stop and listen to them sing, tilting your head, trying to believe that this was actually happening.

You hum along to the song, tapping your eraser against your cheek to the beat.

You and Harry are in a staring contest pretty much, but the only difference is, no one loses if they blink.

“Alright guys, I think we’re all good here. See you at the show.”

They walk over to the side of the stage and file down the steps, running over to you to see what you’ve come up with.

“Wow. Look she even got the detail of the lights.” Louis says pointing.

Niall smacks his hand away, “Don’t touch it, you knit wit. You’ll smudge her work.”

Louis mocks him and rolls his eyes, “Please.”

You laugh and look at your drawing, “it is pretty good isn’t it?”

They all agree.

“Alright. Let’s go get ready for the show. I can hear the fans screaming.” Liam says patting your shoulder, “You can come back and hang out backstage so you’re not caught up in the landslide of that.”

“Okay.” You laugh and stand up.

“They’ll know who you are. You’ll be bombarded with questions and shit.” Zayn says walking next to you, “We don’t want to be overwhelmed.”

“You’ll have a special spot front row.” Niall says pointing, “It’ll be right there.” You look down over the stage to see a small area that’s gated off.

“Oh that’s nice actually. Thank you!” You smile and walk back stage with them.

“You can just hang out back here, there’s snacks and stuff down in that room, help yourself.” Liam points to a room that has a green sign on it and you nod, “thank you.”

A little while later you find yourself in the room, looking over the different snacks. You can feel someone walk in but you don’t pay any attention until you see his arm reach over in front of you, lightly brushing against your boobs, “s’cuse me.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to flirt with fans.” You tease as you look up at him.

Harry smirks, “What they don’t know won’t kill them.” He winks and walks over to the mirror, running his hand through his hair.

You stand there, finding yourself unable to look away from him.

You walk up to him, “That kiss-“

“Is our little secret.” He leans in, “We can have plenty more secrets if you want.”

You smile and rub your hand against your bicep, “Really?”

He nods, “Mhm.”

You bite your lip, looking from his lips to his eyes, “Like what?”

He smirks and brushes hair off your shoulder, exposing your neck. He leans in, sucking on a little patch of skin under your ear.

Your legs go weak and a little moan slips from your lips. He wraps an arm around your waist, holding you to him as he keep sucking a mark onto your skin.

“Like that.” He moves your hair to cover the darkening mark on your skin, “And us. Sneaking around.” He leans in, his lips brush against yours, “Bringing you into my bunk. Hotel rooms. Anywhere I can have you.”

You stare up at him, your lip pulled between your teeth as you nod, “Anything you say.”

“Where’s Harry?”

He quickly puts his shirt on and walks over to the table of food. You sit down and get out your sketch book, flipping to a clean page and drawing randomly sketched lines.

“What are you doing?” Niall asks, “tormenting y/n again huh?” Niall looks at you, “Sorry about him. He can be a little-“

“He’s not bothering me.” You smile and look back down at your book.

“Mhm.” Niall laughs and you look up. Harry waves and blows you a kiss as Niall pulls him out of the room and you can’t help but laugh.

You sit there, Harry’s words replaying in your head over and over again.

You’re mine, remember that.

You feel like you’re in shock, stunned that Harry wants claim over you, but you also love the fact that Harry is all over you so you’re not going to argue with it, you always believe that Harry is your soulmate.

——

“Thank you so much!” Liam says as the boys line up, “You have been amazing!”

They all say their thank you’s and goodbyes and run off the stage. Harry gives you on last look, smirking before he turns and follows the others.

“Oh my god, it’s her!” A fan gasps, “Oh my god.”

“Y/n!”

“Y/N! How are the boy?”

“Did you draw them anything else?”

You turn and wave to them, “Hi, hello. It’s me. It’s been great. Really fun. The boys are all so funny and sweet. I’ve had the absolute best day of my life.”

Little did you know it’s about to get better.

“What’s Harry like?”

“Y/N, did you get to hug them?”

“Alright, y/n. Come on.” Paul says as he opens the gate for you, “That’s enough guys. Let the girl alone.” He laughs and shakes his head, “Harry is a loon, crazy.”

You laugh and look up at him, “You got that right.”

The fans scream as you walk by. You felt like royalty.

You didn’t know that the fans would get this crazy, but now you do.

“There she is! How was the show?” Louis asks walking up, “Did they ask you weird questions? We see lots of weird questions on twitter.”

You laugh and nod, “Yeah, they knew who I was. I felt almost as popular as you guys.”

“You will be now.” Zayn chuckles and grabs a water, “Just don’t let the hateful comments get to you. Just know that we love ya and that’s all that matters, right babe?”

You smile and nod, your cheeks turning hot with a blush, “Right on that.”

You glance over at Harry who’s glaring at Zayn and you can feel the hate filled daggers coming off of his stare.

You look between them to see if Zayn notices but he doesn’t. You but your lip, anxiously awaiting for them to tell you to go home.

“How about a tour of the bus?” Niall proposes, “Were headed there anyway, might as well give you the run down on the space we share.”

“Please.” You laugh and follow them out.

——

“It was nice meeting you, y/n.” Louis leans in and gives you a hug, “We’ll have to stay in touch. I might have ya draw me up a tattoo design, yeah?”

You nod against his shoulder, “I’d be honored.”

He smiles and heads to his bunk, pulling the curtain shut.

Zayn follows behind, saying his goodbyes and kissing your head, “Nice meeting you.”

Niall hugs you and rocks you from side to side, “We’ll miss ya! We’ll have to get you to come again, today was fun.”

He disappears and Liam hugs you, “Thanks for coming. You’re one talented girl and I know you’ll go far in life. Stay in touch, yeah?”

“Of course I will. Thank you all so much!” You smile and watch as he makes his way to his bunk.

You take a deep breathe and look at Harry who’s sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over the other.

He motions with his finger for you to come over to him. You slowly get up and walk over to him. He pulls you down onto his lap, sliding his hands on to your waist, “What did I say earlier?”

You knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I’m yours?” You whisper lowly, and he nods, “Right.”

“They did-“

He cuts you off by roughly kissing your lips. He leans back, “Say it again.”

“I’m yours.” You breathe out, “Harry. I’m yours.”

“Fucking right you are.” He grabs your hips and pushes them down, “Move your hips.”

You grind down onto him and he bites his lip to keep himself from moaning. You can feel how hard he’s getting under you and through his jeans.

“Were going to go to my bunk, you gotta be extra, extra quiet.” He groans lowly as he moves your hair to inspect your neck, “I’m going to make that darker.”

You melt into him.

This feels like it was meant to be on so many levels. It feels so natural. Your nerves melted away as soon as he kissed you for the very first time.

Harry is a very dominant person and you love being his.

A part of you felt like it was some sick joke between the boys, but they really seemed to like you.

“Wait.” You whisper, “This isn’t some weird joke between you guys is it?”

Harry tilts his head and his demeanor goes soft for a minute, “We’d never play with a girls emotions like this y/n. We know how devastating it can be.”

You nod, “Okay. I was just asking. I didn’t really think someone like you would go for a girl like me.”

He shakes his head and rest his hand on your cheek, “You are very, very, and I mean very beautiful. As soon as I knew who won the contest, I did some investigating and I can honestly say that you took my breathe away as soon as I seen your pictures.”

You bite your lip and lay your hands on his cheeks, “You’re my favorite. Always been.”

He smirks and shrugs, his turned on cocky demeanor is back in full effect, “Course I am.”

He leans up, connecting his lips to yours before he leans back, “If we wake anyone up, we don’t get to finish.”

You nod and get up, following him as he leads you to his bunk. He motions for you to climb in first and he gets in behind you, shutting the curtain.

His lips immediately find yours again as his hand slides down your body. His hand slips into the band of your shorts and slide between your skin and underwear.

His fingers find their place at your clit and rub small circles. He presses his lips harder to yours, muffling your moans as best as he can.

Your hands fist his shirt as your whimper against his lips.

He kisses back your jaw, finding the spot he started to mark. His lips pull your skin between his teeth and he bites down, sucking deep colored marks all over your neck.

He doesn’t care if your hair covers it or not.

Your body arches as the pressure on your clit grows harder. “Fuck.” You whisper lowly, “H-Harry.”

You spread your legs more, indicating you wanted his fingers further down.

He picks up on the signal and slides his fingers down between your folds, slipping them inside of you, moaning at how wet you are, “Fuck. I can’t wait to be in this pussy.”

You turn your head, finding his lips as you rock your hips against his hand, “fuck.”

He groans lowly against your lips, pushing his bulge into your thigh. Your hand slides down, cupping him. You give him a gentle squeeze and start to undo his jeans.

“Let me get you off first then we can do that.” He nudges his nose against your cheek, “I want you gagging on my dick but not here. Too loud.”

You nod and take your hands away, sliding them up to his hair. You grab his hair, tugging slightly as you feel yourself growing closer.

You bite down on your lip hard to try and keep yourself contained.

“Come on, love.” Harry whispers, “Cum for me.” He kisses across your neck, nipping and licking the skin, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

You’re panting at this point, “s-shit.”

Harry brings his other hand up, shifting so he can cover your mouth.

You clench around his fingers and arch your body into his as you cum. You whimper and moan into his hand as he fingers you through your high. He moves it and instantly crashes his lips onto yours, swallowing your moans as fast as you get them out.

His thrusts slow down and he pulls his hand out of your shorts, “You’re going to feel so good around my dick.”

His words alone could make you cum again.

You pick back up on undoing his jeans again, “I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.” You kiss him as you slip your hand into his pants.

He kicks off his jeans and kicks them down to the bottom of the bunk, “Roll over.”

You roll over so your back is facing him and he pulls your shorts down. You bring your one leg out of them and his arm instantly hooks under your leg and lifts it up.

He pulls it to him, holding you tight as the tip of his cock rubs against your folds and you gasp, waiting for him to slide in.

He reaches down between you both, grabbing his cock to steadily slide it inside, “Quiet as a mouse, baby. Don’t want to stop now.”

You grip the blanket, biting down on it to muffle the moans you’re trying so hard to keep quiet as he pushes his cock into you.

He lays his head forward, his finger tips dig hard into your thigh as he sits there for a second, taking in the feeling of being inside of you.

“Fuck, y/n.” He groans, “You feel so good.”

You push your hips back, afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll wake everyone up.

He slips his arm under your head and holds your leg steady as he starts to slowly thrust, being carful not to make too much noise.

You tilt your head back, lips parted as he whispers dirty stuff in your ear, “I knew just by looking at you I needed to know what you felt like.”

He moves his arm so his hand lays on your throat, squeezing gently as he thrusts are slow and deep into you. The angle he has your hips at, allows you to feel every inch of him. The tip of his cock brushes around that perfect spot every single time.

Your leg starts to shake as you reach behind and grab onto his hip, “I’m so close.” You quietly gasp out, so low he barely heard.

“Me too, wait f’me.” He lets go of your throat and lays his hand on your chest. His hand kneads your one boob as he pushes his cock into you fully, feeling you clench around him.

You hold your breathe, trying hard to hold back the orgasm that is desperately trying to get free.

His cock continues to thrust in and out, painfully slow.

“Fuck. Let it go.” He groans and digs his fingers deeper into your skin.

Your body tenses and you lay your other hand over your mouth, muffling the moans that your orgasm is ripping away from your body.

He came sooner than he thought he would.

Oops.

He finishes pumping his cum onto your hip and quickly brings a part of the blanket up and wipes it off before it runs down your back side.

You shimmy your shorts up your legs and lift your hips to pull them up. He puts his boxers back on and lays down facing you.

“I may have came a little inside.” He chuckles slightly, “I’m sorry I-“

“No it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’m on the pill.” You assure him as you lay down facing him. He nods and stares at you, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

After a few moments, he brushes hair from your face, “Don’t go. Please.”

You pout slightly, a part of you feeling sad at his words, “I really don’t want to.”

Harry leans in and kisses your forehead, “Well figure it out.”

——

So I’m thinking about doing a part 2 to this? Something along the lines of y/n and Harry get caught on the tour bus because there’s some fans poking around the fences and the secret gets out?

I don’t know let me know what you think 👀

As always, if you have any request, send them here.

I have three or four other requests in progress!

52 notes · View notes

just-barrow · 11 months

Text

day 19 of @almost-a-class-act's War Is Helloween prompts!

SAS: Rogue Heroes - Johnny Cooper/Reg Seekings & Paddy Mayne/Eoin McGonigal

Character A goes to a haunted house/corn maze/grouped fall activity of your choice, and ends up lumped into a group with Character B due to fifth wheeling/friends bailing.

He had to admit it looked pretty cool from the outside, especially in this gloomy weather.

Reg usually wasn't the kind of person to visit old manors and castles, but he agreed to tag along when Eoin explained there was going to be a ghost tour focusing on the gruesome history of this particular castle and its inhabitants. He didn't care about the lives of historical toffs, but he was hoping for some decent medieval weaponry. Murder. Hauntings. Maybe even a dungeon. This could be fun.

Initially, there were supposed to be six of them. When Reg arrived at the castle's entrance, however, the only people there were Paddy and Eoin. Everyone else had bailed. He sighed. He loved them, he did, but he already knew from experience that this would turn into an afternoon of wandering after his friends as they made moon eyes at each other and inevitably forgot Reg was even there.

He followed them inside, silently hoping the tour would be entertaining, at least. Craning his neck to take in the vastness of the main hall, he slowly turned and admired the decorations. The walls were covered in tapestries and old weapons. Candles flickered in window sills. It instantly gave off a spooky atmosphere. He was impressed.

He was admiring some halberds hung up above a doorway when someone stepped on his heel.

"Oi, watch wh-"

When he turned around, he was faced with the prettiest blond he had ever seen. The man was regarding him a little apprehensively, but his face softened as their eyes met. Reg forgot to finish his sentence.

The blond ran a hand through his hair.

"Sorry! I was checking out the mace collection," he gestured hastily to the wall behind him. "Wasn't paying attention to my feet."

It was at that moment that their guide called for everyone to gather around, and the man gave Reg a cheeky little shrug before heading towards the group with a lingering smile.

Reg blinked, stomach flipping, and followed him automatically.

As they toured the castle, the blond didn't make any effort to pretend he wasn't sticking close to Reg on purpose, occasionally glancing at him over his shoulder with a sweet little smile, and Reg eagerly used it as an invitation to watch him as he listened to the tour guide. He noticed how his face lit up every time any kind of fighting or weaponry was mentioned, eyes wide and bright and his lips slightly parted as he listened with rapt attention. Reg couldn't keep his eyes off of him.

A grisly murder had been committed in the next room. The rest of their group all winced as they were told the story of how a man was killed in a fight when a mercenary infiltrated the castle and gutted him with his own sword, right where they stood; how the culprit had escaped before anyone realized something was wrong, leaving nothing behind but a corpse and a centuries-old mystery.

The group gasped in horror; Reg and the blond's eyes met as they smirked simultaneously.

"They say his ghost still haunts this room," the tour guide said ominously.

Reg had stopped listening.

●

They'd been looking for Reg for almost an hour now.

"I told you he'd wander off. He's probably down in the dungeons trying to nick a medieval siege weapon. We should have kept an eye on him."

Paddy snorted. "I don't think they keep those in the dungeons." He opened a door and peered inside; no Reg. "Anyways, he's a big lad. He can take care of himself."

As they rounded a corner, Paddy threw out an arm to stop Eoin from walking any further. They quickly hid behind a suit of armor.

Reg was in the hallway up ahead, excitedly discussing weapons with a handsome blond. A blush sat high on his cheeks despite the chill inside the castle, and he was talking a lot faster than he usually would. The blond was leaning a shoulder against the wall, head tilted seductively and a playful smile on his lips as he told Reg about his knife collection. Candlelight cast a pretty glow across his features.

Eoin shot Paddy a knowing look and smirked. "How romantic."

"You think he's asked for his number yet?"

"Of course not," Eoin grinned, pleased for his friend as he watched the blond reach out and touch his arm. "He's too busy looking like a lovestruck puppy."

Paddy took Eoin's hand and nodded towards the exit. "Let's just leave him, shall we."

"Yeah. I'll text him we've gone home."

Reg didn't notice them snickering as they slowly backed away.

He didn't even realize he had left the castle without Paddy and Eoin until he'd dropped Johnny off at his house a lot later that evening.

He was sure they'd understand.

#war is helloween #my fic #sas rogue heroes #johnny cooper #reg seekings #paddy mayne #eoin mcgonigal

10 notes · View notes

thesparedata · 1 year

Text

"Take Me Up"!

//Media: BBC's Merlin with things from Arthurian Legends and just a hint of Disney's The Sword in The Stone.

Premise: An Arthur reincarnated rp inspired by a previous roleplay and the prompt below.

[ From ScreenCraft, Fantasy prompt 36: A boy on vacation with his family finds Excalibur stuck in the rock floor of a castle.]

Seeking: Any and All! Possible roles that can be taken include Arthur's foster father Hector, Hector's biological son Kay, the tour guide, a tourist, anyone from Arthurian legends, BBC's Merlin, or anyone else you have muse for. I will be playing Arthur.

"I'm not short, Kay, you're just freakishly tall and you know it!" The teenager glared at the young man, his foster brother who scoffed at him. "Sure, Wart, just keep telling yourself that.", Kay joked, using the nickname for the boy that was often used by him and his father as a sort of affectionate insult. "It's Art!" A ginger man's voice cut through the argument. Hector Kendrick. "Oi, lads, keep up!" "Yes, dad!", the two chorused. They rejoined their gruff but caring father, going closer to the tour group that had started to pick up the pace to get to the next point of interest. They stopped at the old, ruins of a castle. It was one of several sites hypothesized by historians to be the castle of Camelot. Art's attention was drawn to it more than any other. There was something about it.

When the others moved on, Art slowed his pace, breaking away to follow the instinct that enthralled him. What if it really was the castle that the king he shared his given name with lived in? His feet followed the overgrown paths, sneakers making soft thuds and taps, to look inside the crumbling structures. He had an acute sense of deja vu but excused it as having read so much about the subject. It had always fascinated him. He could envision what it had been like to live here as though he were standing in it.

Arthur explored further. As he did, he could make out an object jutting out of the ground a distance away. "Huh?" Curious, he headed towards it. "What's that?" He laughed out loud when he was finally able to inspect it closer. Someone had stuck an actual sword in the ground as if it were Excalibur! It even looked realistic! It didn't exactly say 'whosoever pulleth this sword is king' but it had some interesting runes on it. Probably left there for more in-depth tours for kids, he guessed, with reenactments and all.

Feeling playful, the blond teenager stepped up to it and gripped the handle with both hands. Planting his feet, he pulled hard, not expecting anything to come of it. He was surprised when he could hear the blade scrape against stone as he felt it begin to move. Was...was he actually pulling it?! He pulled until he managed to free it and held the heavy thing aloft with his lean arms. "I did it! I actually did it!" His grin of excitement soon fell, however. "I should put it back and go, I'm already getting into so much trouble!" His foster father was going to give him quite the lecture about running off and getting lost.

#open roleplay #open rp #open starter #sfw roleplay #roleplay starter #sfw rp

20 notes · View notes

averageartistamber · 11 months

Text

Splatoon World Tour, (Unmade) Episode 6

Something Fishy This Way Comes.

Location: Demon’s Lair, Finnsmouth.

Characters: GILDEROY, ANCIENT DEMON, SALMONID EXTRAS, MR.GRIZZ (Teaser-SYMPHONY)

This is a jokey “hostile show takeover” episode, courtesy of a salty golden fish.

(This intro screen glitches and blurs to static a few times, before settling on the Gilderoy/Demon’s Lair logo and opening in the Demon’s Lair “New Room”.)

GILDEROY: SURPRISE! It’s me, Gilderoy, Live in the Demon’s Lair to give all o’ you a message, from the salty heart of Finnsmouth,

(DEMON surfaces out of the water.)

GILDEROY: Alongside me, the venerable Ancient Demon That Haunt The Waves.

DEMON: You all know who I am, or ya will, soon enough,(laughs). So, what’s got you so worked up, Gilly?

GILDEROY: Well, you see, Boss, a little Smallfry told me that there’s a World Tour going on, where artists all over the planet are getting a slice of the world’s stage….AND GUESS WHAT! No one thought to invite moi, Gleaming Jewel of Finnsmouth, Voice of the Devouring Abyss, to the party!

DEMON: That’s well rude, mate!

GILDEROY: I KNOW! I am so insulted!

DEMON: Yeah, mate (looks directly at the camera) sounds like some proper Boneless Behavior!

(He laughs)

GILDEROY: Seriously though, can’t a self-respecting Salmonid get any appreciation out there?

DEMON: Ya know what them Boneless are like, ya can’t count on ‘em coz they ain’t got no gills, no scales, and most importantly, NO BONES!

(They both completely lose it).

GILDEROY: Well, that does it! We gotta show ‘em what they’re missing!

(Pause)

DEMON: (Going off screen) Oi Lads, the screen!

(Some EXTRAS Start pushing in the screen)

SALMONID EXTRA: Alright Boss, calm ya pecs!

(The screen is pushed in and they run off, GILDEROY Looks over at presumably where the projector is)

SALMONID EXTRA: Hold on guys, I’m projecting!

(The Screen is switched on and there’s a zoom in.)

GILDEROY: Ah, Finnsmouth, the fog’s looking well lovely today.

DEMON: Ocean’s nice and chilly to this part o’ the year.

(Screen shows off the town….it looks a bit, uh, crap.)

GILDEROY: Well, we’re not big, and there’s not a lot of stuff to do most of the time, but, y’know, uh, it’s great if you’re looking for a quiet retreat…

DEMON: We do got some pretty bangin’ festivals though, I mean, why argue about which Boneless Girl is the hottest while throwing paint at each other when you can grill with The Boys?

GILDEROY: Couldn’t have put it better, Boss.

(Zooms Back out.)

GILDEROY: And if they still don’t wanna give us the time o’ day, I’m gonna bring it to them!

(Stands up)

GILDEROY: Y’all are gonna see me at the World Tour, whether y’all like it or not-

(The screen flashes to the GrizzCo logo)

MR.GRIZZ: This broadcast interruption has be interrupted by GrizzCo…

GILDEROY: CURSE YOU, GRIZZ!

MR.GRIZZ: Your usual programme should be resuming shorty.

DEMON: OI! GRIZZ! ONE VEE ONE ME, WAHOO WORLD MATE-

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #splatoon fanart #splatoon salmon run #salmonids #splatoon au #average is posting Salmonids again!?#Probably gonna retire Ancient Demon after this #splatoon oc

16 notes · View notes

sleekervae · 2 years

Text

A Pirate's Life | Pirate Radio [2]

Masterlist

A/N: Hello, it's me :). I'm back with our wet nautical noodle from sea. Hope you all enjoy

"C'mon Sally, wake up," Felicity's voice fluttered through and interrupted Sally's deep sleep. She groaned with contempt, "You promised you'd help me make breakfast, now get up!" Felicity urged.

Sally scoffed and threw the quilt down, her eyes prying open to stare blankly at the rust-riddled ceiling of their bunk room. Felicity was already hopping around on one-socked foot as she hurriedly dressed herself.

"What day is it?" Sally croaked.

Felicity sighed, "Magnificent Monday,"

"Oh, fuck that," she turned over in her bunk and pulled the quilt up again.

Magnificent Monday was an event the lads put on every six months, giving 200 contest winners -- yes, 200 people -- an afternoon to spend and tour the tanker. Sally had been around for two of these Mondays already, and she dreaded them each time. A hoard of strangers running up and down the halls, ripping through their inventory of music, crowding the sound booths, and screaming so damn loudly Sally wanted to walk the bloody plank.

"Nope! C'mon!" Felicity tore the quilt away, much to Sally's chagrin.

"Oi!"

"You'd promise you'd help me!"

"Alright! Alright!" Sally finally sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, "I'm up, already,"

The girls had been working all morning to fix up snacks for the contest winners. And sure enough, 11:30 on the nose, three large boats pulled up hauling demon-like hoards of screaming guys and girls. The lads of course were on pins and needles, egos at the ready to be stroked like their -- well, finish that sentence how you'd like.

While Felicity was finishing plating snack trays, Sally ventured out to the deck. She slid through the crowd, it was easy considering everyone's attention was pointed to Quentin as he welcomed them aboard.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to our boat of bliss!" he shouted jovially amongst the high-pitched chaos. Carl and Kevin watched from the railing, the joviality rubbing off on Carl. This was probably the most exciting thing he'd taken part in for as long as he could remember, his eyes stayed glued to Quentin as he introduced the DJs out.

"And here are your guides for the day: the Count himself!"

And true to his nature, the Count sauntered out with a cigarette between his lips, followed by the ever suave "Gavin Cavanaugh! The legendary Simple Simon Swafford!"

Simon ran out with a clown horn, the honking lost amongst the cheering.

"The magnificent Doctor Dave! Mr. Bob Silman the Dawn Treader! And motor mouth: Midnight Mark!" the pitch of excitement raised an octave when Mark appeared, as though the cheering hadn't already reached its limit.

"Our man with the news, Mr. Subtle Sectionalist himself: John Mayford!" John blushed bashfully as he made eye contact with some girls, he took off his specs to wipe the fog away. Sally found it endearing.

"And last but not least," Quentin finally announced, "Angus Nutty Nutsford!"

Angus came jumping out like a clown from a pea-sized car, however much to his chagrin, and some of the other lads' amusement, the cheering immediately died down as soon as Angus appeared. Even as Simon and the Count tried to give him some applause and praise, nothing budged the sea of unimpressed fans.

Carl jumped when Sally suddenly spoke up from between him and Kevin, "Well, that's an unsurprising disappointment,"

"Where'd you come from?" he queried.

"South Shields. And you?" a playful grin sat on her face. Carl simpered quietly, drowned out however as the screaming started up once again as Quentin rolled off the day's itinerary.

The afternoon went just as Sally had expected; throngs of starry-eyed fans running up and down the halls and absolutely loosing their minds at watching the DJs at work. And of course the lads held nothing back when it came to showing off.

When Sally explained to Carl how chaotic these Mondays could be, he thought she was being dramatic. However, he found his ears hadn't stopped ringing through the whole of his and Simon's tour of the boat.

Despite the play and debauchery going on above, Sally still had to get the inventory ready for the late night and early morning shows. So, she continued to haul vinyls by the box load between the studios while the boys had the masses occupied elsewhere. However, she was none the wiser when two young men, one a pale ginger and the other a floppy-haired blonde, slipped into the studio, eyeing the place around before they inevitably focused in on Sally flipping through records.

The blonde, a tad more confident than his ginger counterpart, quickly checked his breath and smoothed out his hair before approaching her cooly.

"Excuse me, love! Are you lost?" he questioned. Sally paused momentarily, rolling her eyes before feigning innocence.

"I don't think so," she replied, batting her lashes sweetly, "This is the DJs' booths, right?"

"Well, sure!" the ginger interjected, "But the rest of the tour is over for this segment. The rest of the party is upstairs,"

"We can take you back, if you'd like?" the blonde grinned.

Sally gasped audibly, "Wait, wait -- do you guys work here?" she asked, "Like, actually?"

"Why, of course!" the ginger leaned against Harold's stereo set up. The poor lad would have a fit if he saw the sweaty knucklehead smothering over his equipment, "We know every inch of this boat!"

His blonde mate sauntered closer to Sally, his eyes fluttering low, "You know, we'd be happy to give you the private tour, if you're interested,"

Sally would've bursted out laughing if she wasn't having so much fun putting them on. And here, she thought the lads were shitty flirts...

"Oh my God! That would be great! Except, oh wait -- I don't need a tour because I've already worked a year on this fucking boat!" she revealed.

Both of them took on the classic deer-in-headlights face, the blonde eerily silent while the ginger sputtered out some sort of retort.

"Hold on -- you work on this boat?" his eyebrows popped up.

"Crazy, innit?" Sally simpered, "And you two ain't the first twats trying to get an easy lay on these tours, neither. Nice try, though," she noted the ginger was still leaning against the stereo, "Please, don't touch the equipment,"

The ginger scoffed bitterly, however his mate had a different idea. After all, he was a man and this girl, though harbouring a sour attitude and dressed in ragged slacks and fuzzy pull over, was very pretty.

"Well, then -- how about you give us the tour, instead?" he suggested, "You probably know all the best secret spots on this tin can, eh?"

Sally rolled her eyes, "You couldn't pay me enough," despite her exterior confidence, she didn't like the dark shadow in this lad's eyes. And he towered over her, and even if she screamed it was slim to none that anyone with any common sense would hear her and come to her rescue.

"Oh, c'mon lass. Don't be that way. We won't bite ya too hard," he assured.

Carl meanwhile slipped into the studio, at Gavin's request to fetch his fedora. However, neither the strange lads nor Sally noticed him slip in. But it didn't take a rocket scientist to see these boys were trying to gang up on her.

"I said no," she huffed, "Now buzz off or I'll have you thrown overboard,"

"Oh aye?" the ginger simpered, "You and what army, eh? It's just you and us in this sodded shit hole,"

Carl's mouth moved before he could think straight, "And me!" he called.

The three of them turned around, all of them equally surprised to see Carl standing there. However Sally couldn't hide the relief on her face when she met his gaze.

"And who are you? The janitor?" the blonde questioned.

"Reckon he's here to swab the deck," the ginger grumbled.

Now, Carl wasn't the best when it came to confrontation. He'd been that way all his life, whether it came to school ground bullies or fessing up to his mum about his illicit extra curriculars, confrontation and being confronted turned Carl into a babbling mess. Still time however was different; he held his head high, straightened out his posture to take on some thread of authority. Though he supposed these boys probably had a few years on him, anyhow.

"I-It doesn't matter who I am," he started shakily, "What's important is that my -- shipmate," he pointed to Sally, "Asked you to leave her alone. A-And you'll do bloody well to do as she asks,"

Despite her slim hopes, Sally hung her head, figuring she was doomed. She admired Carl's effort, but he was about as threatening as a beach ball.

The blonde almost began to laugh at the scrawnier boy, "You tryna make a funny? I'll snap you like a toothpick," he took a step forward, to which Carl immediately took two steps back.

"You come within five feet of me and I'll be out the door and telling Quentin about what you sods are trying to pull before you can even get your zippers down. He'll be more than happy to kick you off the boat,"

That however seemed to get their attention. And Carl did have a point; he was close enough to the door he could make a mad dash and find someone who would really mess up the lads' day. Sally awaited anxiously, her gaze flickering between the two lads and Carl.

The boys glanced to each other, as though sharing the same thought and started for the door, "Fair enough, mate. We don't want no trouble, eh?" the ginger assured.

"She's all yours," the blonde spat begrudgingly. They sauntered out without another word. It was then Carl's shoulders dropped and he could visibly relax. He'd never had the balls to stand up for himself in a fight, though he supposed standing up for his friend was a different story. He couldn't fight for shit and he wasn't very fast, but like hell he would've let those lunatics have their way with Sally.

He turned his attention to Sally, who continued to stay put on her spot, watching the door like a vicious hawk. Carl approached her cautiously and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. That took her out of her headspace immediately.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

She nodded quickly, her anxious frown replaced with that fronted grin, "Yeah, I've dealt with worse,"

He wanted to smile and join her, but his chest ached a little at that. Sally had regaled him with a couple stories of her father's beligerance; those two sods were likely a walk in the park in comparison.

She then did something he didn't expect; Carl was nearly thrown off balance as Sally hugged him tightly. Her actions betrayed the content expression on her face, and he hugged her back.

"Thank you, Carl,"

The rest of the peanut gallery tour had gone off without a hitch, save for the fact that Mark had persuaded more than half of the young ladies to join him in his room for some nautical sexual saturnalia. Needless to say, Carl was overcome with disbelief and a spark of jealousy as he peeked past a confrontational, albeit impressed Quentin as he told Mark and the ladies it was time for them to leave.

Summer was just around the corner, though spring continued to cling on with its frigid ocean breezes. The lads were having a round of cards in the mess hall, trying to recover from their previous night of drunken debauchery on the town while Gavin was smack dab in his broadcast. Carl had taken instead to spend some time with Sally. They were sequestered in his room; leaving the door cracked open mind you so the lads passing by wouldn't get any ideas.

Carl was sat up against his pillow, legs crossed while he fiddled with his lighter. He was silent as he listened to Sally read aloud from Dune. Her typically harsh Northern accent was softened, dripping like sweet honey with a performative quality in her tone.

His eyes flitted over the pilling fabric hairs hanging from her jumper collar, picking out the golden highlights in her hair, and glossing over the cuts and scratches in her knuckles. She appeared so sweet, a side of her Carl imagined not many of the lads got to see. Sally was relaxed around him, she herself would admit it was easy to be so around Carl. Perhaps because they were so close in age she didn't feel so looked down upon like she did with the other men. Nobody on the boat had ever taken an interest in Sally's books and life the way that Carl had; she appreciated him immensely for it.

A predatory look filled the old woman's features. She lifted her right hand away from the box and poised the hand close to the side of Paul's neck. He saw a glint of metal there and started to turn toward it.

"Stop!" she snapped.

Using the Voice again! He swung his attention back to her face.

"I hold at your neck the gom jabbar," she said. "The gom jabbar, the high-handed enemy. It's a needle with a drop of poison on its tip. Ah-ah! Don't pull away or you'll feel that poison."

Paul tried to swallow in a dry throat. He could not take his attention from the seamed old face, the glistening eyes, the pale gums around silvery metal teeth that flashed as she spoke.

"A duke's son must know about poisons," she said. "It's the way of our times, eh? Musky, to be poisoned in your drink. Aumas, to be poisoned in your food. The quick ones and the slow ones and the ones in between. Here's a new one for you: the gom jabbar. It kills only animals."

Pride overcame Paul's fear. "You dare suggest a duke's son is an animal?" he demanded.

"Let us say I suggest you may be human,"

Carl simpered under his breath, though loud enough for Sally to take heed. She turned to him curiously, "What? You find maniacal old women with poison needles funny?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head, "I just -- you know, you get really into the story. It's more fun when you read it," he replied.

Sally fought hard to let her lips turn up in a smile, a fight she ultimately lost as she glared at him, "Well... gotta' find some way to make you pay attention, don't I?" she countered.

"You don't have to do much," he let slip.

She averted her eyes back to the page, desperately skimming for her lost spot and praying Carl wouldn't notice the red tinting her cheeks and nose. Carl meanwhile tried not to squirm in his seat, internally scolding himself. He hoped he hadn't sounded like a major sod when he spoke.

Sally finally found her place again and was about to start reading, when there was suddenly a soft knock at the door. Carl sat up and Sally scooted away as Simon peeked his head in, his smile reminiscent of the daft dwarf from Snow White.

"Hey guys!" he almost sang.

"Simon," Carl stood up to greet him, "What can we do for you?"

"Well, Carl... my mate... my best mate," Simon took him by the neck, "I've got some news! I don't know why I'm singing, I can't even -- the words are coming out in tune! I'm so happy!" he looked to Sally who was doing her best not to laugh, intrigued and elated nonetheless to see Simon so excited.

"If I were the Count right now, I would definitely use the F-word to describe the level of this good news!" he started singing again, and Carl began to laugh, "Oh, come hug me! Come hug me, lad!" and he pulled the younger boy in for a hug.

"What is it?" Carl finally asked.

The disbelief was still clear in Simon's eyes as he turned back to Sally, "I'm getting married! To a woman!" and how hard she tried not to let the smile sink from her face. Simon had met a woman? When? Where? How?

When Simon had gotten his faculties together and his singing under control, he had rushed up to the mess hall to announce his nuptials to the boys. Of course, they applauded him as soon as he had announced it, while Mark couldn't seem to give a flying you know what as he lit up his cigarette.

"And give her one for the Nutster!" Angus called out.

Simon, rightfully so, shook his head, " -- I-I won't,"

"Well, what's the lovely lady's name?" Gavin asked.

"Elenore. She's an American!" he boasted.

God help us, Sally thought to herself.

Quentin had appeared in the doorway as the hype had settled down, "Well, I hope you all appreciate what this means? From next Saturday there will, for the first time, be a woman living on the boat. No offence meant, ladies," he nodded to Sally and Felicity.

"Oh, none taken, Quentin," Sally grinned scornfully.

"Me neither. I'm actually quite excited about it," Felicity added.

"Now, hands off, you lesbian!" Angus scolded at her playfully. Sally kept her mouth shut as the lads made some smaller quips and jokes.

Quentin continued, "But Elenore, of course, will be totally exclusive to her lucky husband here. I hope you gentlemen can take it," and he sauntered off again.

"For my eyes only!" Simon bragged.

"May I just say --" the Count cut in, "now that Quentin has departed, one word which I believe is the only word that now matters? And that word is..." he stared at Simon with a mischievous glimmer in his eye.

Simon nodded calmly, blushing nearly as he spoke, "Matrimony,"

He was close, as the Count suddenly shouted "STAG!" garnering cheers and applause from the rest of the boys. Carl of course was intrigued, his mind spinning with all the options of drunken debauchery they may get into.

As the hype died down, everyone's attention turned back to Angus. He had poised his hands on his head, fingers splayed out as he rocked back and forth and made the most obscene noises. Everybody was perplexed nonetheless, and Sally began to laugh. It took a moment before Simon could register what it was Simon was trying to do.

"Oh, he's a stag!" he realized, "I thought he was having a seizure! He's okay. He's fine!"

#tom sturridge #young carl #pirate radio #the boat that rocked #the sandman #the sandman netflix #original character #original content #60s movies #film blog

21 notes · View notes

mysweetgeo · 2 years

Note

Let's see...

How about playing w/each other's hair, you choose the pair!

I'd Look After You

Pairing: McHarrison

Request: How about playing w/each other's hair, you choose the pair!

Warnings: Implied previous sexual content !

Sorry for the EXTREME delay in writing and posting this !!!

Paul always cherished being George’s roommate while on tours, it brought the two of them closer than imaginable.

After a grueling few days of travel and a long concert, the pair had indulged themselves in their shared sin, homosexuality.

They laid beside each other, wrapped up in a warm embrace.

Paul reached a hand up to tangle his fingers in George’s hair, cherishing the softness of his freshly washed locks.

“Rather queer to be playing with another lad’s hair, I reckon,” Paul whispers, not stopping his movements.

George relaxed into Paul’s hand that was gently massaging his scalp, letting out a soft gasp at the sensation.

“No more queer than what we just did,“ George replied with a soft laugh after he’d regained his composure.

Paul tutted, thinking fondly of what they’d just done with one another.

With George it never felt wrong like most people preached it being. Paul never felt more right than when he was with George, like he was coming home after a long day’s work.

It had been several minutes since George had spoken, Paul laid with a lovestruck gaze upon his face.

“Oi, anybody home?” George joked, his hand coming up to gently tug on Paul’s dark locks.

His hair was softer than most birds, George reckoned. That’s what conditioning did for it.

This snapped Paul from his thoughts, his eyes meeting George’s.

“Yeah, I’m home,” Paul whispered, leaning further into George and embracing him, “always home when I’m with you.”

George could only smile and pull Paul to his chest, thankful to be so close to him.

#mcharrison #george harrison #paul mccartney #george harrison fic #paul mccartney fic #paul mccartney x george harrison #george harrison x paul mccartney #the beatles #george #paul

22 notes · View notes

veryrealimagination · 2 years

Text

George had been pacing his hotel room for an hour. His jacket, a nice one for the dinners he was attending, was draped over a chair. Thankfully, there was no blood on it. He had been following what appeared to be his superior, Detective Murdoch. Dressed completely strange, as he was in a leather jacket and denim, he approached him when he thought he was by himself. He had no idea what was going on. Where Doctor Ogden was? George thought the man went insane, ran off.

He had come here after almost being in a brawl with the other man. Having gone to confront him about the radical change, several of the others in the ‘club’ had helped in dragging him out after the Detective gave him a few punches to the chest.

What is wrong with Detective Murdoch? Has he finally gone insane? Did the stress of the new baby, the Black Hand, Detective Watts’s horrific lovelife, Higgins and Jordan, his newly found son?!

“Oi, bugalugs!”

“Inspector?” he asked, wondering when the man had managed to get into his hotel room. “Sir? What has been happening?” Then, he spotted the other man that was probably the reason for his ability to get in. “Terrance Meyers,” he groaned.

“Constable Crabtree,” he greeted, ignoring the tone. “Right, the only thing you really need to know is two things. Detective Murdoch went undercover, something of which you almost blew, and has now been captured.”

“Captured?!” he exclaimed. Almost blew? I’m fairly sure I blew it if the Detective has been captured! Oh no, I did say his name when I confronted him at that bar. That must have been it! I led someone to figuring out sir’s real identity and now he’s been captured!

“Crabtree!” Brackenreid loudly said, gaining his attention again, “We know where they are. You and I are getting them out.”

We’re getting them out? We’re getting them out! Them? “Them? Them?! There’s more than just Murdoch?” he asked, almost demanded, because they weren’t exactly telling him what was going on.

Meyers looked over at Brackenreid, who hadn’t been happy when he had learned the extent of what had happened “We believe that Murdoch will be used again Mr. Watts.”

Mr. Watts? Used against Mr. Watts?! Detective Watts?! Brackenreid motioned for Meyers to ignore them for a bit when George stood there shocked over what had been going on beyond his authors’ tour. He needed Crabtree into action now, questions much later. Couldn’t spend two hours explaining things now. A sharp tone might get him going fast, but it likely would lead to confusion.

Brackenreid had only used this one during his time in the military. Lots of lads that would go ramrod straight and needed something different than a captain yelling orders or a smack to the back of the head.

George only registered that something was crushing him? No, not crushing him. The inspector was wrapped around him. Oh, a hug. He hadn’t had one of those in a long time. No, he hadn’t had any celebratory, consolatory, hugs in a few months. There had been the hold and kiss with Effie before he left.

A hug he could use, eagerly wrapping around the older man. His heart started slowing down, and his mind stopped its endless listing of everything that was going bad right at that moment. Instead, it focused, which is what he needed when the important part of what he just learned popped up in his head.

Detective Murdoch and Detective Watts are in danger.

The hug only broke when Meyers cleared his throat for attention. Crabtree and Brackenreid turned to face the last man. “Change your clothes, Constable,” he said, walking out.

#comfortember 2022 #stressed #hugs #murdoch mysteries #george crabtree #thomas brackenreid

7 notes · View notes

lukascout · 1 month

Text

Guess I'm The New Scout!

Story 5 - House Warming

The hum of Sniper's van buzzed through Luka's head as he kept his eyes shut. It was a little difficult for him to sleep in a car at his age. Then again, he had sleeping problems for ages. Doesn't hurt to try anyway.

“Oi, lad. We're here.” Sniper whispered as he gently tapped him on the shoulder. Luka opened his eyes as the engine quieted down after the long drive. He took a look out the window to find the sun had only just started to rise. A knock on the door took his attention away.

“You good, lad?”

“Oh sorry! Just spaced out a bit!” Luka giggled as he stepped out of the door, only to be tackle-hugged from the left by a rather energetic Demoman.

“Welcome to our home, laddie!” He roared with laughter. The one-eyed bomber was being a too bit loud and affectionate for the crack of dawn.

“O-Oh uh… Uhm… Th-Thank you!” Luka stuttered as he felt too stunned to do anything but accept it.

Sniper pinched his brow at the commotion and groaned, “Demoman, it's too goddamn early for this.”

“Oh, come off it! Scoot would be celebratin’ with us!”

Sniper's annoyance melted away into a look of hurt. Demoman quickly realized that it was maybe not the best thing to say. “Ahh, cripe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-”

“‘S alright, mate. I get ya.”

Luka, whose shoulders were still wrapped up in Demoman's right arm, glanced back and forth between the men. It didn't make him nervous but it did get his mind wondering. Who was “Scout”? Was he beloved amongst his teammates? What was he like? Would he have liked Luka had circumstances been better? He kept these questions to himself for the time being. There was something more immediate on his mind.

“Uhm, Demoman?” Luka said before tapping him on the arm.

“Huh? Oh! Sorry, laddie!” Demoman laughed as he let go of the lad.

Luka energetically scampered about the yard the minute he was free from the Scotsman’s grasp. He was happy to finally be outside in a less hectic setting. The happy little lad explored all the little nooks and crannies of the front yard; a nice looking wooden porch, a rustic fence surrounding the house, trees that sparsely scattered about the land, and finally a decent sized fire pit. Luka couldn't help but wonder if he'd get to roast marshmallows over it one day. The house itself was lovely too, a wide two-story building painted red with some weathering that made the wooden planks look like sweet apples.

“You likin’ it here so far, son?” Engineer asked, seemingly coming out of nowhere.

Luka jumped but relaxed when he saw it was the Engineer. “Oh! Yeah, yeah! Sure is a nice change of pace from, well, the battlefields and whatnot.”

“Heh. I had a feeling you'd like it here. Anyway, I'm gonna head inside and make breakfast, how do you take your coffee?”

Luka perked up the instant he heard the words “make” and “coffee”. “Can I help? I always made the coffee back at my place!”

Engineer was a bit surprised, considering how long the ride home was and how sleepy the lad looked. “Ya sure? You look a little beat, son.”

The now hyperactive lad responded by giddily stamping his feet with what sounded like barking, which was more of a quick succession of “wan”, which Engineer couldn't help but chuckle at. “Alright, alright. Settle down there. You know how to cook too?”

“A little, just give me some direction and I'm on it!”

----

After breakfast, Engineer gave Luka a tour of the sharehouse. It was rather nice and cozy on the inside, surprisingly. Luka was under the impression it'd be a lot more gritty and “manly”. You know, the type of “manly” that apparently meant being boring and dull. The flowery wallpaper decorated the walls of the open living space, featuring an entertainment center in the corner complete with a decently sized TV and two big red couches. Above them was a loft that overlooked the room lined with doors, one of them being the bathroom. Engineer went over some house rules, RED’s general schedule, and what to do in case anything breaks.

“Now, just to be sure you remember, what do you do if you see anything electrical broken?”

“Don't touch anything and run straight to you!”

“Great! We don't want anyone gettin’ hurt with no way to come back now, don't we?” Engineer laughed.

It was a rather morbid thought but Luka found himself laughing anyway. Engineer led Luka up the stairs to the loft and stopped at one of the rooms, knocking before opening the door. Luka peered inside and scanned the room. What met his eyes was a smaller room with a bunk bed against the wood grain wall with just enough space for a dresser and a few other belongings. What struck him as odd was the boxes in the open closest next to what he could only assume was Sniper's clothes. He tilted his head curiously as his mind wandered once again.

“Sorry about the boxes, we haven't been able to store them away since we've been busier than usual these past few months.” Engineer said. “Sniper will be bunking with you for the rest of the cold season. He normally lives in his van when it's warmer.”

“Oh yeah?” Luka responded, not taking his curious gaze away from the boxes.

Engineer noticed the lad's gaze trailed to the boxes in the closet. “Something wrong?”

Luka wasn't sure if he should say what was on his mind but he wasn't sure if he should keep it in either. His emotions did tend to get the better of him when he bottled things up. Maybe…

“Hey… What happened to this Scout guy I keep hearing about?”

Engineer's expression shifted into visible discomfort as a lump got caught in his throat. “We… We don't know.”

“Fuck, I'm so sorry! I knew it was a bad idea to-”

“No! No, son. I understand you have some questions.” Engineer cleared his throat. “The truth is; we don't know. He came to his shift like any other day and… then he was gone by the end of it.”

“So… He just up and vanished?” Luka asked.

“Long-short of it. All I remember is that he wanted to tell Sniper something before he disappeared. We’ve been lookin’ into it long before you showed up. Nothin’...”

Luka looked a little dejected by the news. He hoped he would be able to actually meet the guy one day but that seemed unlikely. “Hope he turns up… A-Anyway, I'm gonna unpack, see you later.”

“Don't forget to give Medic your files, he’s gonna need those. The medbay's in the basement.”

Luka nodded and started to look for some space to put his clothes away. He opened up the topmost drawer but quickly closed it with a red face when he saw a flash of undies. Luckily the one below was completely empty, save for a single baseball. He picked up the well battered ball and inspected it with a pang in his stomach. This was no doubt the previous Scout’s ball. Man, it just stinks. Luka was really looking forward to meeting him. Then again, there was a reason he was here in the first place. Everything happens for a reason, right?

After Luka packed up his clothes and sketchbook, he grabbed his medical files and headed to the basement. It took him a little longer than expected to find the basement door.

Wait, did Dell show me the basement door or did I forget where it was? Ugh… I hate having a terrible memory…

“Looking for somezing?” A sharp voice cut through Luka's train of thought. The lad spun around to be met with the Spy. The rose tinted assassin stared him down with a clear but reserved disdain that made Luka a bit uncomfortable.

“O-Oh, hi! Uhm… I was just looking for the basement because-”

Spy observed the lad's discomfort and made his expression melt into something less intimidating. “Apologies for interrupting, but I never properly welcomed you to our team.” Spy said with a strategically forced smile that he hoped Luka would not see through.

“O-Oh! Thank you! Anyway, do you know where the basement is? Because I have files I need to-” Luka was cut off by the tip of Spy's butterfly knife gently pressed against his chin. He silently panicked as his gaze trailed from the tip of the knife to Spy's cold gaze. He wanted to scream for help but what would happen if he did?

“I'm going to say zis once, I do not believe zis life is right for you.” Spy lifted Luka up by his chin with his knife. “But as long as you are here, zere will be expectations. Do not disappoint us, Scout. Do I make myself clear?”

Luka gulped, which was made painful with the knife still just barely digging into his skin. “Y-Yes, sir!”

Spy gave a satisfactory smirk. “Excellent. Enjoy ze rest of your day, garcon.” He freed the knife from underneath his chin. Luka ragdolled back first against the door behind him, clutching his medical files tighter than before. “Ah, I almost forgot. Did you say you were looking for ze basement?”

“Y-Yeah?” Luka responded weakly.

“Check behind you.” Spy said as he walked away.

Luka looked confused for a second until he looked at the door behind him labeled “basement” with a graphic of a medical cross and a wrench below the label. Luka smacked himself on the forehead, cursing himself for losing everything a foot in front of him. As he decended into the basement slowly, he looked back on the amount of venom behind the way he said “Scout”, which sent his mind reeling with questions. Was there a reason for this? What was his his relationship with him? Were they close? Rivals? Hated each other? Why did he direct so much vitriol towards him, the new “Scout”? Cause as far as Luka could tell, he had done nothing to him. Questions for another day, perhaps. He was fortunately able to spot the medbay without any trouble. He knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” A voice asked from the other side.

“It's me, Luka. Dell told me to give you my files.”

“Ah, right! Come in, come in!”

As soon as Luka entered the room, the smell of medicine, blood, and God knows what else hit his nose rather harshly. He coughed a bit in response. His eyes wandered around the room, he was rather unnerved by the sight of surgical tools and somewhat bloodstained operating tables. He handed over the files with shakey hands.

“Uhm… Are you alright, Hartman? You look a little pale.” Medic asked as he took the files from Luka.

“S-Spy welcomed me to team.” Luka said exhaustedly.

“Oh ja, he has a bit of an odd sense of humor. He'll varm up to you eventually!”

It was a bit of an underreaction but Luka found it comforting enough to laugh in response. “Here's hoping.”

“Be here tomorrow morning after breakfast, I need to give you a physical to keep your charts up to date!” Medic said as he started reading through the files.

Luka groaned and started heading back upstairs to take a power nap. Once he got to his room, he plugged in his phone and fell like a log onto his bed.

----

A few hours later, Luka groggily woke up and headed downstairs to the kitchen to grab his second coffee of the day. However, he came face to chest to Heavy as he was walking. He squeaked as he scrambled to apologize for bumping into him.

“New Scout…” Luka froze when he was addressed. “Name is Luka, da?”

“Y-Yes.”

The giant stared Luka down for a few moments as the lad awkwardly stared up. Heavy reached for the top of his head, which made Luka winced and screw his eyes shut. When a smack to the head didn't come like he thought it would, he cautiously opened an eye to see that Heavy pulled back his hand and softened his expression. The lad tilted his head in questioning. Heavy reached out again but slower, carefully gauging his reactions. Luka stood as still as he could and shut his eyes again, but then he felt a giant hand ruffle through his hair. His eyes shot open in surprise as he looked up to see a much warmer look on Heavy’s face. With a string of happy barking, he stood on the tips of his toes to nudge into the hand that was now playfully scratching the side of his face.

Heavy let out a soft chuckle. “See? Little Dog is good now, da?”

Despite Spy's warning (Or was it a threat? Who knows?), Luka started to think that maybe things weren't going to be so bad. But then another thought occurred to him that made the lad scream at himself internally.

SHIT, I FORGOT TO TELL BIG SIS I'M OK.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #self insert #self insert fanfiction #tf2 fanfiction #team fortress 2 fanfiction

0 notes

supersonicdreams · 2 years

Text

@aprilwritcs

Alfie was back home from a long tour with the band. As usual, he spent the first days at home, sleeping and reconnecting with his mom. That poor woman... still to this day, he haven’t met a person with so much patience. His second thing on his list was to visit his best friend. In spite of being in one of the most popular rock bands, he was still a very down to earth guy; and he wasn’t Jude, he wasn’t the lead singer. Who would recognize the drummer of a band anyways?

He walked into the bar and spotted Andressa behind the bar and the smirk came quickly to his lips. He had missed her, he hadn’t seen her in months. He approached to the bar and sat down, her back was facing him. “Oi, what does a lad have to do to get a pint of Guinnes here, love?” He asked playfully, leaning against the counter and resting his body over his forearms.

#starter: alfie #alfie&andressa001 #empecé con algo genérico! espero que esté bien :)

6 notes · View notes

spectacularlyignorantt · 3 years

Text

From the dining table

March 2017

Louis sat in the kitchen looking around, dust covering every possible surface. Princess Park, their first home, the place they bought together without telling anyone and then never sold after the breakup. Maybe because they couldn't see each other and not end up in bed, regretting it in the morning. Maybe because they both knew this time apart meant nothing. They were destined to be together, a love no one could understand, right?

The last time he saw Harry was after the presentation of his single Just Hold On on the X-Factor, but they had not been a proper couple for around a year. If you didn’t count the sex, of course. Louis didn’t. Sex didn’t mean much, not when he knew what it felt like to be in a relationship with Harry Styles for 5 years. They would have stopped seeing each other when the band started the hiatus if it wasn’t for his mom's health getting worse. Harry stood next to him all those months, giving him comfort, keeping her company when Louis was too tired to stay awake. Harry was part of his family, after all. And Louis knew Anne, Gems and Robin felt the same way about him.

The reason for their break up was a mystery for everyone, a question never answered. They belonged together, no one could say the opposite after expending time with the couple for 10 minutes. Either you were blind or disgusted by their love, in a cute way.

Louis knew, of course. It was a decision, more than anything. They felt like the only thing holding them together was the band and decided to take a break to figure out if there was more than that. So they never sold their first home because there was no chance they weren't going back together.

Lately, Louis wasn’t so sure about that. To be honest, he wasn't sure about anything. The sky was pouring like it should be, for mood purposes. The lump in his throat made breathing hard, the weight in his chest holding him down in the chair. He closed his eyes, he wasn’t going to cry. The promise he made to his mother was still clear in his mind and it was killing him. Because lately, it felt like Harry had forgotten about them. With his solo music, the movie, all that pr girlfriends Louis knew he hated. All that glamour, all those lights. Why would he be thinking about Louis? Maybe they were right, maybe it wasn’t destiny but circumstance.

Things got worse recently, after Niall went to his flat a couple of days before, wearing that big old tee and Louis told him he smelled like Harry. He wasn’t jealous, not really. It was Niall, for god’s sake. But Niall was around his baby a lot, they had a close friendship not many knew about. Something about the unusual sadness in Niall's eyes told him much more than the calls Haz never answered. Harry didn’t want him anymore. They were done.

The pressure in his head felt compressive like the one in his heart. All those shots, pints and pot weren’t a good combination. Neither was that boy with curls but the wrong shade of green when he woke up that morning in a hotel room, unable to remember much about the night before. But what else could he do? How could he go to Harry right now and tell him he was sorry for his insecurities? For ruining everything without a good reason? How could he tell him he was sorry? Liam and Oli said he needed to give it time, but everyday felt a little bit more far away from home. So he came back.

There was a notepad where they used to write the grocery list sitting on the counter, next to the fridge. He took it and the pen on the table, the dim light coming from the closed window. He didn't know what to do, how to get out of this pain, this love. How to be himself again.

So Louis did the only thing he felt like he could do right: he wrote a song. It was more of a letter, really. But it was shaped like a song, that was his strong suit after all. And Harry loved to see him write, once upon a time. Used to dance with him in that kitchen, used to make him pancakes in the morning. They used to talk and fuck and chat for hours between those walls.

To Harry:

Woke up alone in this hotel room

Played with myself, where were you?

Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon

I've never felt less cool

We haven't spoke since you went away

Comfortable silence is so overrated, Harry

Why won't you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

I saw Niall the other day

He said you feel just fine

I see you gave him my old t-shirt

More of what was once mine

I see it's written, it's all over his face

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won't you ever say what you want to say?

Even my phone misses your call,

And by the way

Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too

But you, you never do

Woke up this boy who looked just like you

I almost said your name

We haven't spoke since you went away

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won't you ever say what you want to say?

Even my phone misses your call

By the way…

He stopped there, unable to continue. His hand was shaking, the tears were smushing the ink on the paper. What a fucking cliche, crying after promising himself he wasn’t going to do it. Nothing could hurt as much as losing his mum, nothing could compare. So why was he crying? Why couldn’t he just fucking stop?

Louis got up from the chair and walked away from the dining table, leaving the notepad there. He knew deep in his broken heart that the next time he came back it was going to be there. Left and forgotten, just like that house and those memories. Louis left it there next to his allowance to feel sorry for himself. He needed to grow up, get away from those parties and false people. He was going to get his shit together, write away his feelings and find his sound.

And if Harry didn’t want him in his life, then there was nothing left to do, right?

May 2017

The recording of Back to you was finally over and now they need it to work in the music video and he wanted to film it on Doncaster. It felt right to go back to his ‘home’, if he couldn't go back home, you know what I mean? It went well with the theme.

Louis was driving back from the studio to his flat when a notification popped out in this phone: Harry’s album was out and apparently, people thought a couple of songs were about him. Louis wasn't going to be surprised if they were, both wrote about each other a lot along the way. And the fans loved to link things, made up theories about the Larry situation. Something he wished he could out and say ‘yes it was true but it's over now, please stop tagging me, it hurts’. It didn’t. not as much anymore.

Or that’s what he thought until he heard track 4, Two Ghost. He knew those lyrics, Harry had written them years ago. That is what they used to call each other’s public images: ghosts. Images without a soul. What a young and dramatic pair they used to be, back in 2013.

He didn't cry with that one, maybe because of its familiarity. And he wasn’t even mad about the songs about girls, he knew Harry better than that, even after all this time.

Next was Sweet Creature, the one everyone was speculating about, and honestly Harry, ‘two hearts, one home’? The song felt different. Maybe because he thought that Harry didn’t really remember about their lost home, about being young and in love. Too young to know, most people used to say. What a fool he was for listening. Now he knew, and it was too late.

Kiwi was funny in the most depressing way for him, Woman felt like an anthem, it felt like Harry’s jealousy, his deep and most dark possessive behavior. But then, when a chord from a guitar came in he went to his phone to check the name. He wasn’t quick enough, tho. The first verse stopped him right there. It was a good thing he parked in his apartment building a couple of songs ago.

Because there, in the shape of the last song of H’s first album, it was Louis' letter. His feelings in a notepad, in the shape of an awkward song. Almost word by word, Harry’s voice filled the car with calmness and longing, a branch of olive. He was giving the first step. If those little easter eggs along the album weren’t enough, he took Louis letter from two fucking months ago and put it there. He probably had to push the label to do it, with such short notice. Harry went out of his way to let him know it wasn’t over.

Harry went back to Princess Park, just like him. He went back home.

----

His friend picked up the phone after two missed calls.

‘Oi Lou, how ya doin?’ the thick Irish accent wasn’t enough of a distraction.

‘Hey lad, I’m fine. Sorry to bother but I need to ask you something’ he could hear the urgency in his own voice.

‘Never a bother mate, whatever you need’ Niall, always the optimistic. Louis loved him.

‘Is Harry staying here? In London I mean’

‘What? What's going on?’ and then ‘Oh, the album is out, innit?’

‘Yeah…’

‘Okay, well, Harry was going to be with Nick today so yeah, he must be doing press shit’

‘Of course, makes sense, thank you mate. I will explain later ’

‘Sure, use protection’

Louis rolled his eyes but didn’t deny the implications. The car came to life once again and he started driving to Harry’s house. The one they used to spend time in when they had some time between recording and touring. He didn’t even feel annoyed by the traffic, listening to the album all over again. Letting his body welcome Harry once again.

Of course, he still had his keys, drowned deep in the glovebox. He wasn’t going to enter the actual house, but it wouldn’t have been smart to stay outside on the street, someone could recognise him.

So once he parked in front of the building and noticed Harry wasn’t home, he closed his eyes and took a breath after what felt like hours. The next time he opened them there was a hand taping on his windows, he had fallen asleep.

It was a big hand adorned with rings and some nail polish. Louis knew what it felt to hold it more than he knew his own face. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Harry was waiting outside, a small smile making just one dimple appear. It was the first time they had seen each other in months but Louis felt like no time had passed. And if Louis was going to turn into an idiotic helpless cliche then it better be because of a boy as wonderful and beautiful as him. There was no one else. Harry was it.

‘I thought it was going to take you longer ’

‘To listen to the album or to get my shit together? ’

Harry seemed to consider his answer for a second, the dramatic little shit that he was. Then he smiled and Louis forgave him immediately.

‘Both’

Louis laughed and took a step closer to the love of his life.

‘I’m sorry, baby, I'm really sorry ’

‘Me too’

‘If you let me kiss you right now I’m never letting you go again. It's your choice’

‘Never wanted you to go in the first place’

‘Right answer’

And then they kissed because there wasn't much left to say. At least not right now. The conversation could wait for the next morning, once they had sex, pancakes and maybe a little dance in the kitchen. For old times sake.

----

Soooo, I wrote this because I couldn’t get the idea of Louis writing this song out of my head. And like, it sounds so much like Harry’s writing, this is not a theory at all. But I liked the idea so yeah. It’s probably gonna be my first and only fic about Larry, hope you like it.

All the mistakes are mine and its noy my first language, sorry if the grammar is trashy. Thanks.

#larry #larry stylinson #larry fic #larry fic rec #larry fanfic #fanfic #harry styles #louis tomlinson #canon compliant #but fiction #i don't think they broke up #and if they did is not my bussiness #just so you know

21 notes · View notes

heyheshi · 4 years

Text

“We might be pregnant.”

3.4k words

written and uploaded: July 11, 2020

🦋 - fluff

🌙 - angst...?

💎 - a hint of smut...?

Please like and reblog! Also please don’t post my writings anywhere!

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 3

_________

The last three weeks have been absolutely divine! Harry managed to convince you about closing your clinic earlier than usual, he said and you quote, "the babies are gonna be safe with their parents, lovie", so that's what you did, you closed your clinic early for the Christmas Season and told your patients that you're just a call away.

You managed to snag a couple of Christmas Gifts for your husband and for both of your families. You were never a fan of late shopping but after the fight you and H had, you've been nothing but inseparable. Always tied on each other's hips and always wanting to feel one another's presence.

Both of your families drove at your house during the 23rd, wanting to spend Christmas Eve together. All you can hear are the joyous laughter and love for one another and you can tell that Harry is savoring every moment for when he leaves for his tour.

You both agreed on visiting him often and staying with him for a month before you go back to your job for another month then visit him again. It will be a tiring process especially for you but it was the best you both can come up with. It was a compromise the two of you can work with and it will be all worth it in the end.

Harry talked about his excitement about his upcoming tour with your families. Everyone spent time with one another but you can tell that Harry enjoyed it the most. Your families stayed for a week, leaving on the 30th.

He's been spending time with the kids the most. With your sister having a newborn and Gem being pregnant for the 3rd time, he caught a glimpse of what it's like being a father. You would often catch him staring at you while holding the kids and it made you smile. You can't wait for the time when Harry is holding your own child but you've talked about not trying until after his tour.

It wasn't Harry's fault though. You never really thought about having an irregular menstrual cycle and was never really bothered by it before the marriage but now it was all that's in your mind. H taught you to love yourself and your body though. He was so understanding of everything which makes your heart burst every single time.

You've been eating more than usual and you always feel bloated. You told Harry that one-night whistle your families were there but he only told you that you still looked beautiful. You have never been a stress drinker though you still drink on occasions, you are more the stress eater type of person.

You've been very stressed about hosting your families for Christmas and hosting the upcoming New Year Party, and the fact that you might not fit in the dress you bought for that event adds to the fire. Harry understood and tried to help you with everything he can to lessen your stress. He once joked about opening your clinic to stress you more so you'll cook more food for him to munch into.

---

It was 30 minutes before midnight. Your friends were scattered around your house, talking and laughing and drinking and catching up with one another while you, however, tried being the best host as much as you can.

On occasions like this, you'd like to at least have a drink on your system but you couldn't risk messing something up, you are a strong believer of the saying, "what you do on the 1st day of the year, will be what you're doing for the rest of the year", so if you are crying on new year then you'll be crying for the year but if you're laughing during the new year, then your year would be filled with happiness, plus you managed to fit in your dress! God forbid you staining it and having to deal with staining your clothes for the whole year.

You haven't seen Harry since Zayn arrived, you figured that the lads have been catching up and the thought made you smile, but right now you really need his help. You're running out of cupcakes, and you don't know what to do!

Someone snaked their hands from your behind and you're startled by it until you smelled the perfume you know by heart and saw the familiar tattoos on the person's arms. You couldn't help but lean back to relax a bit and laced your fingers with your husband.

"What got you so stressed bunny? I can see your frown from the living room. Know I hate seeing you frown baby.", Harry said into your ears that sent chills down your spine. There was no loud music but you're sure that the voices in your house would beat the sound if there was one.

"We're running out of cupcakes! I think it was me, it's all I've been consuming since our guests arrived!", you sighed after you said that but your husband only laughed and turned you to him.

He smiled widely at you. "You're really cute baby.", then bopped your nose with his. "I got us covered angel, there are spare cupcakes in our room."

"H! Why are there cupcakes in our room?!", you couldn't help but laugh at it though.

"Because the tables were full and I don't know where to put it and our guests were arriving so I just put it on the first place that comes into my mind!", H tried to reason you but you were already laughing at him. He pouted at you but couldn't help but laugh along at the situation, he loves hearing your laugh!

"Okay okay baby H, let's get the cupcakes here, yeah?"

"Did you just called me Baby H? Hmm?", he playfully asked you, "We both know that you're not calling me that when we're alone.", he whispered to your ear hotly and you felt your stomach drop. "Why don't we try that theory of yours baby girl? Let's find out if we're really going to have sex every single day if we do it on new year.", he sounds so hot and you're so flustered, and that's when he laughed.

"Gotcha baby! Payback for laughing at me!", the crinkles on the side of his eyes appeared while cackling, he's even patting his knees while doing so courtesy on how much he found the situation funny and you can't help but admire him and laugh along instead of being annoyed with him.

"Oi oi what you laughing about love birds?!", Louis smiled at the both of you while entering the kitchen.

"Nothing Lou, H is just being dramatic.", you said as Louis rounded the table to inspect the food and his eyes landed on the single cupcake at the plate.

Harry noticed, "Mate were just about to get more cupcakes, you can have it."

"Thanks man. And great party you two!", and with that, Lou sauntered out of the kitchen with the cupcake in his hand.

"Guess we really do have to get the cupcakes down now, huh?", you playfully asked your husband as he intertwined your fingers and pulled you upstairs to get the other boxes of cupcakes.

After the party, you really did test the theory of yours. You made love for the first time of the year, before he leaves for his tour tomorrow night.

---

Harry has been away for the past few weeks. You never really paid attention to the changes of your body, but your abdomen seems to have a bit bump to it but you're not even on your period. You really don't want to get your hopes up that you're ovulating for the month, your husband is not there anyways.

You used to hate getting your periods when you were still a teen up until your early to mid-twenties, dread for it actually, but now, all you wanted was for your period to greet you even in the most inconvenient times!

You're eating more, but you don't have any weird cravings since you eat almost everything - you're not a picky eater so it was so easy for Harry to take you out on dates and not worry about you not going to like the restaurants he picks at the start of your relationship - so you pass that as your stress. Stress on your job and missing your husband.

But then you started feeling nauseated all the time. It wasn't every morning after you wake up, it's actually in the afternoon. You thought that maybe it was your eyes again. You refuse to wear glasses and contacts even though you're mostly looking at the computer screen so you didn't bother much about it until one day at the grocery store.

"You're glowing, Doc! Early stages of pregnancy don't really look great on everyone but you pull it off!", Mrs. Green, the mother of your patient, said as you bumped into her while running some errands.

You blushed at the thought, "no, I- I'm actually not um pregnant.", you stuttered.

"Oh I'm sorry, I just thought..."

"It's alright, probably just the weather outside!", you talked to her for a couple more minutes before she has to go but during your conversation, you couldn't help but think about it.

Can you really be pregnant?

And with that question lingering on your mind, you went to the pharmacy of the story and bought more pregnancy tests than necessary.

You graduated with a Ph.D.! How come you never thought about this! Yet again, you and H never really talked much about pregnancy either so it wasn't the first thing that came to your mind.

Never in your life you'd have thought that you'll be drinking this much liters of water in a span of an hour. Numerous pregnancy tests wrappers on the small bin on your bathroom along with more than 10 pregnancy tests on your bathroom counter but never once you had peaked on any of it. You just couldn't do it.

You left the bathroom an hour ago and you're sure that every single pregnancy test results are done now.

You're so excited but scared at the same time. You know that Harry would be really ecstatic if he's here but he's just starting his tour, you don't know how he'll react but at the same time, if you're really pregnant then it wouldn't take long for him to accept it.

But you're more scared that those tests may come all negative. You got your hopes really high now and you're really wishing that you're carrying Harry's child. If the tests are negative then Harry wouldn't need to know that this ever happened, but you sure as hell would be really down and disappointed.

You decided to go to the bathroom to finally face your fears. You stood outside of the bathroom door and counted the pregnancy tests on the counter. 15. You don't know what to expect but you pray to God to give you strength no matter what the results say.

You slowly walked inside and looked at the first test. Negative, and boy did it disappointed you more than getting an 88 on your test when you were still in college.

The next pregnancy test came out positive. You froze, one negative and one positive equals negative, so you need more proof.

The third one came positive yet again. You still didn't believe it and look at the next test.

Positive. 3 positive and one negative. You're slowly starting to smile.

The next was another positive. You feel like you couldn't breathe so you look at the next one.

Negative. And there it goes again. All your hopes and dreams crushed. 4 positives and 2 negatives.

The next came out as positive, negative, positive, positive, positive, positive, positive, positive, and the last one was again, positive.

With each look at the pregnancy test, you couldn't help but cry. 3 negative tests and 12 positive tests. This is it, you're really pregnant. After years of trying.

You cried of happy tears and for the first time in your life, you put your hands on your tummy with so much care and look at it with so much adoration. "Are you really there, baby?", you continued to sniffle. "Gosh, I love you so much already. Daddy will be so happy. We get to see him in the next few days!", with that you wiped your tears and looked at the mirror to admire your body.

You took your first body picture as pregnant in front of your huge mirror in your walk-in closet and went to pack for your one month visit to your husband.

---

The plane landed a couple of minutes ago and you're on your way to Harry's hotel to drop off your things and go to the arena where he's performing. During the ride it made you think that about how you're not really sure if you're pregnant. You need to get an ultrasound to make sure but you also remembered that Harry would have loved to attend the first time you went to the doctors so you didn't think much about it.

You arrived at the arena after dropping and changing your clothes at the hotel. Harry was having a soundcheck so when he took a break and went backstage to change his shirt, he was so surprised to see you there. He thought you wouldn't be coming until two days before his birthday.

He ran up to you and almost crushed you. You being really cautious, put your arms to shield your tummy before he reaches you. H didn't notice what you did since he missed you so much and just wanted to hold you. When you felt like its safe to remove your arms, you hugged him back and swayed the both of you side to side. His head was in the crook of your neck and is pressing multiple kisses to your skin.

"Missed you so much. Though you're not gonna be here until the day after tomorrow.", he mumbled on your neck still hugging you tight.

"Jeff helped me with everything. Missed you so much more handsome.", then you kissed for the first time after being away for the last 3 weeks.

---

It was his birthday. You brought him presents and celebrated really early with him before you both have to leave for his soundcheck. You never would have thought that you're going give him another gift. You were going to wait until Valentine's day to tell him that you might be pregnant but things don't always happen as you please.

Harry saw a pregnancy test laying around his dressing room earlier, it was positive. He thought it might be Sarah's since she and Mitch have been planning on starting a family after this tour, much like you and him, so he didn't dig further to it, as a respect to his friends' privacy.

You weren't acting weird, only when you threw up after lunch, he thought your stomach wasn't used to the food so he let it slide and just made sure you were okay, in which you replied to as "just probably ate a lot". Then it was time for a few shots and a cake before he went to the stage. He's dressed and ready to go, 20 minutes before his last call. Everybody was having a shot and greeting your husband but you stuck to your water and 2 big pieces of cake.

Harry thought you were just hungry since you emptied your stomach earlier so he let it slide again but when you refused a drink, he couldn't help but pulled you to the side and ask.

"What's up with you baby? You sick my love?", he looks so concerned and you found it really cute so you pecked his lips. Hormones.

"I'm not, just really hungry.", you smiled at him. You're good with lying and you get away most of the time with it but not with your husband. No matter how good you are with it, he knows you better than anyone else.

"You refused my drink babes, it's my birthday", he pouted, "it's an occasion my love."

"I know H, I'm sorry, I couldn't drink, I really don't want to.", you tried to reason him but he wasn't having it.

"Don't lie, baby, I know you. Please tell me what's wrong pretty girl.", he took your hands and kissed your knuckles.

"There's nothing wrong with me, I promise. Go on, enjoy you-"

"Harry, 5 minutes!", Jeff yelled signaling Harry to get ready.

"Y/N just tell me. I'm worried, please baby. I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it. You're acting really strange and yo-"

"Pregnant.", you whispered.

"Come again?"

"We might be pregnant.", you said in a whisper while slowly meeting your husband's eyes.

"You're what?!", he's jumping on the balls of his feet now.

"Yeah, I might be pregnant.", you looked down, feeling disappointed. This isn't the reaction you were hoping to receive and it made your eyes water.

"How sure are you?", Harry asked in a strained voice. "12 positive tests and 3 negatives...", you said not meeting his eyes even though you can tell that he's looking at your figure.

Then Harry forced you to look at him, cradling your face with his hands. His eyes were so wide and green, blown pupils and you can see the tears starting to form in his waterline. "Are you really?", his voice breaks in the middle. You only nod your head.

With that, he kissed you, passionately. He didn't care that Jeff was yelling at him to go to the stage and that his fellow bandmates are stalling different tunes just for him. He kissed you like his life depend on it until he pulled back and dropped to his knees and lifted up your shirt.

"Can you hear me my love?", he whispered to your small tummy and you couldn't help but tangle your right hand with his hair, not caring if you messed it up, while your other hand is clamping your mouth. You're crying so much. "I love you bubs, daddy loves you so much.", Harry met your eyes and smiled at you.

"Both of you wait for me here, okay?", he stands up slowly while bringing your shirt down. "Eat as much as you please and I'll have some guards near you and give you a seat in here, mkay?", he looks so happy.

"Okay H. But we're not totally sure yet. I only told you, wasn't planning on it until the 14th s-"

"Then we'll go to the doctors first thing in the morning okay? Gotta take care of you more now, the both of you", you smiled at his concern.

"If that's what you want then. But for now, go and please the world.", you slowly pushed him off you.

He kissed you one more time before jogging backwards to the stage while yelling "I love you."

That night he performed with all of his energy and everyone can notice the change in his demeanor. To some, it's probably because it's his birthday but to both of you, there's a different reason behind it.

During the middle of his concert, you saw him whispered to his bandmates and everyone nodded.

“I'm going to sing another song I wrote a couple years ago. This is not on the setlist but tonight I'm making an exception since this is probably one of the best nights of my life.", the crowds cheered for him, "please if you have your phones, open your torches and bring it up in the air. I'm singing without a mic so please be quiet.", the crowds cheered grew louder then he winked at you from the side stage.

"This is Sweet Creature."

And with that, you know that whatever the future holds for the two of you, you'll be facing it together with your small family. You'll be now taking care of your own baby aside from your patients in a mere 33 weeks!

But maybe not "small family” after all, when you find out that you'll be having twins. And you'll have to compromise again about visiting him on tour with the babies on the way but there's nothing in the world you'd want to trade it with.

_____

294 notes · View notes

hankwritten · 3 years

Text

I am Full to the Brim with All the Bullets I've Bit

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for someonehasto, Hooligan

Soldier slapped two things into the palm of the sleeping Demoman, startling him awake. “Happy anniversary,” he said informatively.

“Anniversary?” Demo asked, a little woozily. “But er…wasn’t our anniversary months ago?”

“Not the anniversary of when we started dating.”

Blearily, and still a bit hungover, Demo said, “then…anniversary of when we met? That’s not until…”

The sentence trailed off, but Soldier helpfully concluded, “June seventeenth! But that is not the anniversary I am referring to either.”

“Then what are you talking about lad?” Demo pressed, a little curtly.

“It is the anniversary of the day we said we loved each other.”

“…Oh. I er…oh.” Demo rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t…remember that.”

“That is not surprising! That night you were incredibly drunk!”

“…Oh.”

“So that is why it is our anniversary, and now that means you can look at your gift.”

Demo, who still hadn't looked at his hand, glanced at the pair of tickets. “Sploocher Brewing Company?” he blinked. “Oh, a brewery tour.”

“You’ve been saying you want to go to Sploocher for a while now.”

“I did, but I didn’t think you were listening. Ach, wait I’m sorry, that came out wrong. This is actually a really nice gift, thank you Jane.”

Soldier smiled widely, proud for getting it right this year. “I am glad it meets your standards!”

“More than,” Demo agreed. “You can probably guess, but I didn’t get anything for you…”

“That is not a problem! I will consider this a fun activity we can do together.”

“Fantastic. When is this ‘fun activity’ running anyway?”

“April twenty-eighth.”

“…Today’s the twenty eighth.”

“Yes!” Soldier declared cheerfully. “The tour will commence in approximately forty-eight minutes and twelve seconds! That is why I woke you up.”

“Bloody hell,” Demo panicked, and ran upstairs to change out of his whiskey-stained robe.

Soldier waited a beat before calling up after him, “I will go start the car.”

The brewery was far too noisy for Soldier’s liking. The dawdling minutes before the tour started (he and Demo had arrived exactly on time, but the group beforehand was running late so all that rushing was for naught in the end) were spent at the bar, drinking the complimentary soda out of a curly straw. The beer wasn’t complimentary, but they’d each received a wristband allowing them four free drinks each, and Soldier had been quick to sneak Demo his share of the tabs. The Demoman was back on his way to his usual level of drunk, and Soldier watched him with a slight smile.

“Here lad,” Demo said, scooting two unlabeled cups he’d poured a bit of beer into. “Blind taste test.”

Soldier set aside his soda. He lifted the first, smacking away the aftertaste, then tried second. “You’re messing with me, DeGroot. That’s the exact same beer.”

“Not a bit, Doe.” Demo slid forward the two bottles he’d been shielding from view. “Red Shed and Blu Streak, untampered condition.”

Soldier shook his head. “Really is different clowns, same circus, huh?”

“Does that make us the clowns?”

“Considering the stupid song and dance we put on for all those years, I’d say so.”

“Excuse me,” a meek voice called over the chattering tour groups, if lacking in volume then making up for it in direction. “Presentation will be starting soon. Please line up near the double doors.”

“That’s our cue,” Demo prompted, setting his empty tankard on the bar. He’d used every one of their combined wristband-tabs, and hadn’t wasted a single drop. “Let’s go see how this place shakes, aye?”

Unfortunately, before they were even allowed in the brewery itself, there was a fifteen-minute introduction on the Sploocher company history.

“Randy Sploocher developed a love of German beer while stationed in Ansburg, which he brought here to New Mexico after graduating from uh. From…” The tour guide shuffled his note cards. “…I don’t actually remember where he graduated from, ha ha.”

“Jesus this lad’s green,” Demo mumbled to Soldier.

“Shhh!” Soldier hissed. “I am learning about Randy Sploocher.”

He could hear Demo sigh.

By the time they’d actually got to the processing floor, the nervous young tour guide had dropped his cards no less than three separate times, and wound up asking the audience, “does anyone know the four ingredients to beer?” twice.

“Water, yeast, hops, and malt,” Demo muttered under his breath. He leaned closer to Soldier’s shoulder. “Oi. Want to ditch the dodo chain?”

Soldier, having barely heard the question, said, “I like malt. It’s one of the ingredients in a chocolate malt!”

“…Along with chocolate?”

“Yes! And that!”

Demo grumbled something, but Soldier was paying attention to the speech again.

“Here we have our brewers,” the guide was explaining. “Most modern breweries use electric heaters since they’re more reliable, but here at Sploocher Company we do the things the old fashion way, open flame only for that signature Sploocher taste.”

“If it’s not reliable, does that mean you’re always making bad batches?” a voice came from the crowd.

The nervousness, which had only lessoned out of sight a moment ago, came back with a vengeance. “Uh, well, yes. We have our certified taste tester verify every batch, and if doesn’t meet the Sploocher standard we dump the whole thing.”

Smiling proudly, the tour guide seemed to be under the impression that this was a satisfactory answer until a booming voice confronted him with, “WHAT.”

Soldier, less than a foot away from the shout, jumped just as much as anyone.

“You’re telling you just throw out the entire brew of beer?” Demo said in mounting horror. He swaggered a little as he took a step forward. “There must be over ten thousand gallons in one of those!”

It was a pretty large tank, two-stories stretching into the open floor plan, sleek and white except for the Sploocher logo (a multicolored parrot driving a tractor) pasted across the surface. Around them, the hum of beer brewing thrummed the air, rising to the many-windowed upper areas. While technically a microbrewery, it was still quite impressive, at least to the Soldier who’s experience with beer came almost exclusively from what Demo tried to forcefully impart on him.

“Oh actually it’s-” The young man shuffled through his notes. “…I’m not sure actually. But if it isn’t that good ‘ole Sploocher taste then we don’t put our label on it, haha.”

The Demoman was appalled. “Tasting terrible is no reason to get rid of perfectly good alcohol. What do you do with it?”

“Well, the Teufort Waste Processing Facility gives us exclusive dumping rights in the Well-”

“Lord almighty,” Demo moaned, putting a hand to his forehead. “This…this is bloody terrible. This might be the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

He wobbled a little, and Soldier had to grab his arm to keep him upright. Around them, several of the other tour attendees whispered, and Soldier wondered if maybe they were right about Demo hitting the pre-entertainment refreshments a little hard.

Maybe in an attempt to head off further discussion, the guide said, “and uh folks that’s it for the brewing area! Now if you’ll follow me, you’ll be able to see our bottling area!”

“Ooo, bottles,” Soldier said excitedly.

However, as he tried to follow the tail end of meandering gaggle into the next chamber, something gently tugged him back.

“Jane,” Demo said, as conspiratorial as he was un-sobered, “I think it’s about time we sprung a jailbreak.”

“Spy and Scout are in prison again?” Soldier blinked.

“No lad, the beer,” Demo insisted. “Somewhere in this facility there’s a whole tank of beer they’re going to execute.”

“And you want to do…what, exactly?”

“Not let it go to waste for one!” Demo huffed. “It’s a crime, what’s going on here. We can’t just let them get away with it!”

“But…” Soldier looked over his shoulder.

“Pah,” Demo said. “Fine then. I’m going to go see some justice done.”

The only other people in the confines of the brewery were the tour group, now mostly disappeared behind a pair of swinging doors. There was no one but the beer itself to witness Demo storm off, swaggering slightly as he sometimes did on the battlefield, leaving Soldier’s head to ping between him and the location of the bottling process. Demo's idea sounded fun but...When was next time he was going to see that many bottles in one place?

In the end, Soldier determined Demo would probably be fine on his own.

This assumption didn’t hold, as twenty-two minutes later a resounding cry of, “KABLOOIE!” echoed through the brewery.

Heads turned. Gasps were had. Handkerchiefs were placed in front of open mouths. All and all it was a mortified audience that turned and saw a cackling Demoman standing atop one of the giant tanks, holding a detonator in his hand and raising it like Connor MacLeod before him.

Soldier might have wondered ‘where the hell did he get that’ if that particular phrase hadn’t crossed his mind so often before it had become cliché. His fellow onlookers, not wise to the ways of Tavish DeGroot, didn’t even recognize the significance of the little device, and were therefore shocked when his bellow of, “FREEEDOOMMM!!!” was followed by the great echo of an explosion.

Soldier cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, "oorah!" as a show of support. He was getting nearly as worked up as Demo, when he head the sound of two more explosions.

Even from this distance Soldier could see the change in Demo’s face, and came to the conclusion that the additional detonations were not part of the plan.

“…Crap,” Demo muttered.

Seconds later, a rumbling came from within the deepest bowels of the Sploocher Brewing company, the splashing of something powerful sweeping through machinery and toward confused tour-goers. The telltale crash of thousands of gallons of sour beer.

“Run!” someone screamed as the first wave of golden liquid came barreling around the corner.

Screams of warning turned to screams of panic, people rushing all at once toward the closest visible exit, stampeding each other in an attempt to get out of the way of the oncoming tsunami. Bottles, happily chugging along down the conveyer belt, were blissfully unaware of their oncoming demise, and when they wave hit they fell by the hundreds, adding their contents to the already considerable torrent.

“P-please if we could all form an orderly- Wa-hoah!”

Any more advice the guide might have given was silenced as he was the first dragged outside. Soldier, meanwhile, was trying an entirely different tactic, pushing to where he’d last seen the Demoman before the tank he’d been standing on had started to shake.

“Move you maggots! There is more on the line here than civilian lives! Know that I would through each and every one of you into the line of fire if it meant victory!”

Threatening was no use. As the first wave of beer washed over his shoes, he was shoved outside.

“Sir! Sir you can’t go back in there.”

One of the brewery’s security guards (shouldn’t he have been inside during all this? Might have avoided having one drunken Scotsman tearing his place to shreds if he had) tried to stop Soldier once he’d gotten free of the lemmings.

“It’s an extreme fire hazard,” the guard continued.

“Ha! Fire? I can tell you from personal experience that burning to death is not the most painful way to die. Doesn’t even crack the top three. Now move, maggot.”

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t have been inside trying to stop Demo, since all it took was a slight shove for Soldier to knock him aside.

Inside was a damn mess. Half the tanks were knocked over, adding to the rising fluid, and the rest looked massively destabilized. This level of beer wouldn’t last long (as it was already emptying both into the built-in drain) of the brewery floor and out the building’s exits), but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a drudge to get through. That didn’t matter. He needed to find Demo. That was what was important.

Bottles floated ironically in the seas of yellow—their purpose realized, but in all the wrong ways. Soldier wondered what Demo had been trying to do in the first place. He’d assumed that the man was just going to find a random tank of to-be-extradited alcohol and attempt to drink it all himself, but apparently he’d underestimated Demo’s ability to make explosives devices out of even the most mundane of objects. Stupid. Demo had spent his whole childhood perfecting that technique.

“Tavish!” Soldier called out, the slosh of beer answering him. “Tav! Relay your position, stat!”

"O're here..." a faint voice called eventually.

He followed the noise to the very back of the brewery, where the trucks might come to take the finished kegs away. Among the leaning steel basins was a Demoman, sitting in an inch of beer and staring at his knees. He looked despondent. Even more worryingly, he looked sober.

Soldier splashed the short distance between them. After a moment, he sat down next to his partner. "Almost wish I had come with you. You looked like you were King of America up there!"

Demo wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Jane. Did I ruin our anniversary?”

Surprised by the change in topic, Soldier said, “not really? Your ability to cause property damage is why I fell in love with you. I am just glad you are unharmed.”

“Ah. That's good then.” Demo put his head in his hands. “I’m...sorry I didn’t get you anything. And I'm sorry I...it's just bothering me that…Why can’t I remember?”

Now Soldier was really lost. "Remember?"

“I can’t-” Demo wasn’t quite crying, but the effects of sobering up had turned his eye rather red. “I can’t remember the night I told you I loved you. How fucked up is that? That I’m running around, not being able to remember whole chunks of my life. Whole chunks of my life with you.”

He sniffed, and wiped his face on his sleeve. Soldier put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer.

“Do you think I have a problem?” Demo asked.

“What kind of problem?” Soldier said, surprised as anything.

“You know. With the drink.”

“Like…” Soldier floundered. “You still want to save the beer from its unjust execution?”

“No, I mean me, specifically.” He glanced at his hands, no devoid of the detonator, which was probably for the best. Evidence and all. But then, he lifted his chin and pointed at Soldier one of the most desperate looks he’d ever been given. “Do…do I need to stop?”

His voice was small, and timid, like even the even the suggestion was sacrilege in this holy space.

“I don't think you should be asking me,” Soldier admitted. “I'd love you even if were the soberest sonuvabitch this side of the New Schlooper Ocean. Better question is do you want to stop?”

Demo didn’t respond. Not for a quite a while, until Soldier thought he might not answer at all. But finally, in that same small voice, “I think I do.”

“Okay. I will help then.”

“Aye?”

“Whatever you want. Or need. Whichever this is. But first, lets get out of here. I think all this booze is giving me a swimmers rash.”

“Ha. Maybe. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened to me.”

“You live a strange life DeGroot. Now come on.”

Soldier helped Demo to his feet, and as the two heard sirens in the distance, they began to make there way from the building as they often did on dates: with the knowledge that they’d probably be pursued by local law enforcement soon enough.

#demosolly #tf2 fanfiction

10 notes · View notes