#welcome to me falling asleep posting hour where i empty my entire brain into the internet before falling asleep.

[theriverbeyond]

companies underestimate how much locking their content behind needing an account will just make me go do something else. oh your website wants me to make an account to view this content? oh your website doesn't show media to logged-out users? okay. i didn't actually want to see it that bad. yeah. bye ✌️

[adiwriting]

Sunday Mornings 4/?

Notes: While this is the 4th ficlet in this verse, it’s technically the first thing I wrote for this verse. I was working to fill a prompt “watching them sleep” and it got away from me like most things. So I’m excited to finally get to post this part. It’s my personal favorite so far, so I hope you all enjoy! <3

Now on AO3

Week 4: 

The feeling of the sun warming his face slowly pulls Alex out of a blissful dream. Not quite ready to move his body yet, he turns his head to the nightstand and opens his eyes. It’s 5:55am. He’s tired, sure, but years in the military have taught him that attempting to go back to sleep now is futile. His body is wired to be up between 0500 and 0600 everyday, no matter how little sleep he got the night before. 

He yawns and turns his head to look at the source of his exhaustion. He can’t help but smile at the sight of his boyfriend. Michael spent the night last night, as he has most nights since they got back together a month ago. In fact, the only reason Michael isn’t in his bed every night can really only boil down to a stupid comment Maria had made about them moving in together. Michael still feels enough guilt over their breakup to have insisted that they are most certainly not living together. Alex would be mad at him for the entire thing, but he can’t bring himself to be. One, he too still feels how awkward things are with Maria and he loves her enough to want to be sensitive, even if she hadn’t always been sensitive towards him. And two… Michael can say he’s not living here all he wants, but the evidence speaks for itself. 

Michael’s black cowboy hat is hung on the hook on the door, where Alex used to hang his favorite Air Force hoodie. The same hoodie that now permanently rests on the back of the couch because Michael always wears it like a blanket when they watch movies together. There is an ever growing pile of change accumulating on the dresser from where Michael regularly empties his pockets when he comes in to change out of his jeans. Next to Alex’s bottles of lotions and various meds is a bottle of warming gel that Michael uses whenever his hand acts up. Hanging up in the closet are several of Michael’s clothes that Alex put there when he’d pulled his laundry out the other day and realized that half of the clothes were Michael’s rather than his own. Over by the full length mirror is a pile of the only 3 pairs of shoes that Michael owns. 

No. Michael doesn't live here. His things have just been slowly taking over Alex’s space… And Alex loves it. 

He bought this house last year and fell in love with its character, but it hadn’t really started to feel like home to him until the day there were two toothbrushes by the sink instead of one. 

Alex stretches carefully and tries not to groan at the way his shoulders pop. His body is particularly achy today, which he equates to a combination of lack of sleep and the enthusiasm that they’d gone at it last night. He’s going to have to talk Michael into a massage later.

Once his body is decently stretched out — or at least as stretched out as it can be without waking Michael — Alex rolls over onto his side to watch his boyfriend properly. 

Michael is always beautiful. It’s a fact. But the truth is, there’s something particularly entrancing about the way the morning sun hits Michael’s tanned skin. Alex allows himself to stare in a way he can’t get away with when Michael is awake. Not without Michael teasing him for it. 

He starts with his hair. Frizzy and all over the place. A combination of Alex’s hands constantly threading through and pulling whenever they have sex and the fact that Michael moves when he sleeps. A lot. The sun makes his hair glow like a halo, which is all too fitting. He reaches out and gently pulls a curl away from Michael’s face so that he can focus his attention there next. 

Alex watches the quick, constant movement of Michael’s eyes underneath his lids. He’s always thinking. Calculating. Planning. Inventing. When they were kids, Michael told him that his head was constant chaos that only music could quiet. Knowing what he knows about Michael’s past, he can see why Michael had chosen that word. But chaos doesn’t describe Michael’s brain. Not anymore. He’s just brilliant. He’s wicked smart and never stops thinking. Michael processes information at an inhuman rate, which Alex would equate to his alien DNA if he didn’t know that neither Max or Isobel share in his genius level intellect. 

It’s not rare for Michael to wake up in the middle of the night having somehow solved some complicated problem in his sleep. It’s why Alex had started to keep a journal on Michael’s side of the bed, so that he won’t have to get up at 3am and tear the house apart looking for paper so he could write down whatever complex equation he’s just solved. 

Alex runs his fingers across Michael’s forehead gently. He loves that brain. He firmly believes that Michael could solve the world’s biggest problems if he tried. And though Alex won’t risk the fight by bringing it up, he seriously hopes that Michael gets his degree one day so that the world can benefit from his genius. Roswell is too small for a brain like Michael’s. 

Alex traces the line of his nose and bites back a giggle when Michael scrunches it up in response. He’s so adorable at times that Alex truly marvels that anyone can honestly believe his tough guy act. Michael is so soft and tender with Alex. Even when they weren’t together and every other word out of Michael’s mouth was a sarcastic dig meant to goad Alex into a fight, Alex had always been able to see the vulnerability in Michael’s eyes. It was part of what sent Alex running so often. He always had a genuine fear of breaking and in turn, getting broken. 

His palm moves to cradle Michael’s cheek and Michael’s head leans into the touch, turning his head to kiss his palm. Even in sleep, Michael is constantly seeking him out. It’s moments like this that make Alex question how he ever felt insecure about Michael’s feelings. Maybe if he had just trusted in their love earlier… 

“Stop. Sleep,” Michael grumbles, seemingly cutting off his anxiety spiral before it could even start. 

“I’m not tired,” he teases, but Michael is silent, having already fallen back asleep. 

Alex’s hand drifts down to Michael’s neck and he cringes when he notices a bruise to the right of his collarbone that wasn’t there yesterday. Alex has always been incredibly careful about hickeys. He’d had to be. And by the time he’d felt safe enough to risk it, he was at an age where it was no longer socially acceptable. Thankfully, this one should be mostly hidden once Michael puts on a shirt, so hopefully he won’t be too annoyed with Alex. 

His hand travels down Michael’s chest. He stares at the dark hair, one of the most noticeable changes from when they were seventeen. Alex hasn’t been with a lot of men, but virtually all of the ones he’s been with manscape. Which is fine. It’s understandable. It’s not like anybody wants to worry about hair in their mouth when they are kissing their way down someone’s chest. But damn, there’s something about the dark hair on Michael’s tanned chest that always gets him going. 

It’s unfair really, because it means that Alex is pretty much always turned on whenever Michael is shirtless. Which is all of the time. The man has some kind of personal problem with wearing shirts. 

He drags his index finger through the darker patch of hair on his stomach and he feels Michael’s muscles tense under his touch. Before Alex’s hand can dip under the sheet currently protecting Michael’s modesty, the man grumbles something incoherent and rolls over onto his stomach, snuggling into Alex’s side. 

Alex sinks back into the pillow, his one arm pinned under Michael’s head. He moves his free hand up to play with Michael’s hair. Michael hums in content, but doesn’t say anything more or do anything to signal that he’s truly awake. Alex closes his eyes and tries to relax. While he isn’t likely to fall back asleep, that doesn’t mean he isn’t content to lay here for hours while his boyfriend does. This is the kind of stuff Sunday mornings are made for. 

Isn’t this what Maroon 5 was getting at? Cause, yeah. Alex never wants to leave. 

He buries his nose in Michael’s hair and breathes in deep, taking in the smell of rain and dollar store shampoo that is uniquely Michael. It smells like love and safety. Like home. 

God, twelve years of loving this man and Alex didn’t think it was possible for that love to continue to crow. Each day he’s proven wrong. See, he’s starting to learn that these small moments together… the quiet unassuming moments… They are a thousand times more powerful than the big, dramatic moments that rom coms are made of. Because right here? At this moment? All he can think about is the ending of the stupid Grinch movie when his heart grows three times in size. 

That’s how Michael makes him feel. Like his heart is constantly growing, aching with joy but always wonderfully welcome. Waking up next to Michael in the morning is one of those painfully sweet moments that pull at his heart. And maybe it won’t always feel like this. He hopes it does. He doesn’t want to get used to this, because he doesn’t ever want to stop realizing how lucky they are that they managed to come together after twelve years of will they won't they. Alex hopes he appreciates the magic of waking up next to Michael because he never wants to grow complacent in this relationship. 

“You’re being creepy again, and it’s too early,” Michael grumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes. Instead he throws his leg over Alex’s hip in an attempt to snuggle even closer. 

Alex rolls his eyes at the argument they have most mornings. “Why is it creepy?” 

“Because you’re studying me like you’re plotting the best ways to murder me in my sleep.” 

Alex laughs at that, shaking Michael who reaches out to pinch him in his side and demands he stop so that he can rest. 

“No murder today,” he promises, kissing the top of his head. 

Michael’s hand moves up to rest at his heart and Alex reaches out to grab at his wrist to keep his hand in place. “I love you.”

Michael does open his eyes for that. Alex meets his gaze and the only way he can describe the way Michael is staring at him is fond. 

“I love you, too,” Michael says, lifting his head just long enough to kiss Alex. “Go back to bed.”

“We’re already in bed,” Alex teases, earning him another groan. 

“Go back to sleep. And get better dad jokes before we have a kid, please.” 

Michael bringing up a kid is enough to stop any teasing that Alex would have likely continued with. Though his stupid boyfriend clearly doesn’t realize the gravity of what he’s just said, because he’s already fallen back asleep. Alex can tell he’s not just faking it either because he’s lightly snoring in that way that Alex really shouldn’t find adorable but does. 

Dad. Him. 

It’s an interesting thought. One he honestly hadn’t considered. The thought of bringing another Manes into this world is frankly terrifying. Alex would be satisfied if the family name died out with him and his brothers. But thinking of having a child with Michael? A little Guerin baby? 

Yeah, that thought gives him plenty to think about for the next two hours while Michael sleeps. 

Tagged: @callieramics​​

As always if anyone wants to be tagged, let me know!

[naancypants]

Soup

I received writing inspiration from this ask, so this is where it lead me! Nancy has come down with a bad cold and is surprised when Joe Hardy shows up on her doorstep. For context, this story definitely takes place post-Nedcy and probably even after Francy comes to some sort of resolution as I have canonically aged them up to 25/26 here. Also contains mild descriptions of cold symptoms, so… something to be aware of if you’re easily sensitive to that kind of thing? Nothing graphic, though.

(Ao3) (Words: 2,820) (@nancydrew-onthecase​)

DING-dong!

…Ugh.

Nancy has been curled up on her couch in River Heights, staring at the tv for the last 8 hours or so. As a matter of fact, the only movement she’d made all day was to waddle her way down the stairs from her bedroom, grab a light breakfast and collapse onto the couch. For the next 8 hours (in case you missed that part).

Her eyes flit over to the antique clock on the cabinet next to the fireplace as she begrudgingly stands up; 6:40pm. Had she really not eaten since breakfast?

She sniffles, whipping a tissue out of her decorative turquoise tissue box and giving her nose another wipe. This cold has been going on for about 3 days now, and Nancy is dying to know when it will ever end, because she feels like she’s dying. She rarely gets sick, either, so when she does, it hits her like a greyhound bus.

“Who on earth is this?” Nancy grumbles to herself as she shuffles over to the front door. Her father and Hannah were both away for the weekend, which was all the better, Nancy supposes; it gives them less exposure to whatever this germ is that’s hijacked her immune system.

With one hand on the door handle, she swipes at her nose one last time before pulling the door open to find… Joe Hardy?

The younger Hardy brother gives her that goofy little sideways smile of his and lifts one arm, carrying a clear plastic carryout bag, out to her. “Soup delivery.”

She blinks in surprise. “Soup delivery?” she repeats, stepping aside just enough so that he can come inside if he chooses, which he does.

“At your service.” he takes a few steps further into the entryway, shaking a little excess water off of his dark brown jacket. It hadn’t rained all day in River Heights or surrounding areas, and there was just a barely-there dusting of snow on the ground, so as well as taking into consideration the time of year, Nancy deduces that it must have been snowing in Bayport.

“Let me take your -” Nancy starts to offer to hang up his coat, but then she glances down at the used tissue that’s currently crumpled up in her fist and a dry chuckle fills the space, “- well, never mind.”

He cracks another grin, “I got it.”

After Joe puts away his jacket and the two of them amble back into the living room, Nancy watches in bewilderment as he fluffs the side pillows and readjusts the throw blanket that was sloppily piled into a heap on the sofa. When he’s done, he gestures to the spot he’s just made up, which Nancy accepts with a furrowed brow. “What’s gotten into you? What are you even doing here?”

Joe shrugs, bashfully scratching the back of his neck, “I don’t know - I was in the area.”

“You came from Bayport.”

“What? How could you tell?”

“The melted snow on your jacket.”

“W- well, that could’ve just been… a sprinkler. Or a passing rainstorm. I mean, you’ve been cooped up in here all day, how could you really know if it was raining or not?!”

“Joe.”

He laughs. “Aw, I’m just kidding. I came because I was already bored today, and you said in your text that you weren’t feeling well. So I thought I’d come check up on you.”

Nancy, once again, blinks in surprise. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate such a nice gesture, but it seems so out of nowhere - when was the last time she’d seen Joe without Frank? The more she ponders on it, the more she wonders, has she ever seen Joe without Frank? This was a peculiar thought that led her to ask her next question.

“Is Frank with you?”

“Ah, no. He doesn’t know I came. He thinks I’m at Chet’s house. So maybe… don’t mention this to him? I just - don’t want to get caught in a lie or anything.”

Nancy giggles a little bit, “Then why lie?”

Joe, exasperated, lets out a frustrated sigh, but Nancy is perceptive enough to tell that he isn’t upset. “Are you going to let me give you your soup, or not?”

Nancy shrugs, “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” Joe says with the inflection of the drama queen he truly is, bending over to unpack a medium plastic container from the bag. He sets it on the coffee table along with a plastic wrapped spoon while Nancy blows her nose.

“It’s chicken noodle - I was going to get you some clear soup, but I couldn’t find an Asian restaurant between here & Bayport with a Yelp rating higher than a 2.7 - how depressing is that?!”

“Very sad!”

“So, I just went with the ol’ standby. Hopefully you don’t mind.”

Nancy looks at him with a sleepy expression that she can tell isn’t reminiscent of her usual perky self, “Are you kidding? I love chicken noodle.”

“Better than clear soup?!” Joe says in shock.

“Well, I mean, nothing can beat Hannah’s homemade chicken noodle… but I’m sure this is fine.” Nancy sucks in a deep breath, which leaves her a little lightheaded for a moment, but as soon as it passes she gazes up at her friend.

“Thank you, Joe. I really mean that.”

She feels like absolute garbage, but she musters up every bit of energy she has left in an attempt to express the genuine sincerity with which she means that. His eyelids drift closed and he bobs his head forward in a slight nod.

“You’re welcome.”

A moment passes while Nancy reaches for her spoon, stabbing it against the hardwood surface in front of her to pierce the outer wrapping. Meanwhile, Joe’s eyes wander around the room and eventually land upon an empty glass hiding behind the discarded carryout bag.

“Nancy! You need to hydrate!”

As he leaps for the glass, Nancy can’t help but laugh out loud at his words. “Really, Joe? You sound like Frank.”

“I AM NOT MY BROTHER! How dare you call me out like this!” he hollers in an offended tone, disappearing into the back hallway to refill her glass in the kitchen.

This was certainly turning out to be an odd night.

Nancy shakes her head and picks up the TV remote, flipping through the channels until she lands on something that catches her interest; a crime documentary detailing the life, irreparable actions, and eventual identification of the Golden State Killer. She dips her spoon into the bowl of soup just as Joe returns with some fresh water and a dorky twinkle in his eyes, “Straight from the kitchen sink.”

“Thanks,” says Nancy, eyeballing the 25-year-old as he catches sight of what’s playing on the TV.

“Ooh, is that a crime show?! Heck yeah!” Joe flops excitedly onto the opposite end of the couch, his face alight with admiration, “Y’know what, Nancy? Even when you’re sick you’re the best kind of person.”

She blushes a little; she’s always been shy when receiving compliments. She reaches for another tissue. The two of them become completely engrossed, watching and chatting enthusiastically until finally (and miraculously, in Nancy’s case), they fall asleep.

-+-+-+-

It’s still dark outside when Nancy begins to stir. It takes her eyes and her brain a few moments to adjust, but once she’s fully aware of her surroundings, she jumps at the realization that her head has been softly nuzzled into the side of Joe’s hip. As soon as she’s upright again, her nose starts running and invasive TV ads are blaring in her ears and Joe begins waking up all at once.

Nancy blindly reaches for the remote to decrease the volume, but in her uncoordinated state, she misses entirely and knocks over the plastic soup container. “Shoo-oot!”

Joe’s eyebrows lift when he hears the commotion that’s happening to his right; what little bit of soup still remained in the bowl has now spilled onto the brand new rug Hannah bought for the living room. The only solace Nancy had was seeing what a small amount of liquid had actually stained, but even then! She felt awful. Hannah had spent half an afternoon picking that out.

“Oh no, Hannah will be so disappointed!” Nancy murmurs.

By this point Joe is already up from the couch and is bounding into the kitchen to collect a paper towel roll. Nancy feels utterly useless sitting there staring at the floor until her friend returns to help clean up the mess, which they manage to get done together.

“There we go,” Joe says at last, and although he had eagerly gotten up to take care of the spill, his tired voice betrays his behavior. “That should do it. Nice job, pardner.”

Stretching her sore muscles, Nancy sighs and lets out a groan; since her sudden awakening, her head feels stuffier than before, saddling her with this annoying ache that occasionally pounds at her cranium. Still, she sniffs and responds to Joe’s lighthearted comment, “You too. Pardner…” Her voice trails off at the end a little. Joe notices that her eyes are closed now.

He looks down at his phone to check the time; 1:21AM?! Dang it. He’s going to have to tell Frank something. He’s never spent the night at Chet’s house a day in his life - Frank will never believe him if he says that he crashed there. But then Joe decides that it doesn’t really matter. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. It’s late, and he’s exhausted, and he doesn’t regret getting to spend a few hours with one of the people he reveres most in the world - even if she, perhaps, couldn’t enjoy it to the same degree.

But then, almost as if reading his mind, Nancy speaks in a quiet voice, “Thanks again for the surprise visit, Joe. I can’t tell you how much I needed this.”

Joe nods his head a few times, staring at Nancy with a small quirk of a smile. “Anytime.”

Well, he thinks, I wish that were true. It would be true if not for the 4 hour drive I have to look forward to now. Goodie. If Bayport weren’t so dang far away from Nancy’s quaint hometown of River Heights, Joe has a feeling that both he & Frank would be seeing a lot more of their favorite fellow detective. But sometimes, kids, life sucks.

Joe clears his throat and goes to collect the trash from this soup adventure of theirs, but Nancy stops him with a grateful shake of her head.

“No, no, I’ll take care of it. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?”

“I’m sick, Joe, I’m not on my deathbed. I can handle it.”

Joe nods, chuckling because it’s so very Nancy of her. “Sorry.”

They make their way back to the front door where Joe’s jacket hangs alone, but just as he’s about to pick it up off the hook he hears Nancy’s weakened voice say, “Hey.”

He turns to look at her and can tell she’s on the verge of asking him something; lips slightly parted, uncertain stance indicating a feeling of hesitation. His training for ATAC back in the day had taught him a lot about reading body language, which is something he loves to apply in his everyday life. Can really give you a lot of insight.

But suddenly her mouth closes again, and she reaches up to warm both her arms which have now grown goosebumps. She shakes her head, “Never mind. Drive safe, okay? And text me so I know you’re home!”

Joe, ever curious about things he doesn’t understand but also very familiar with Nancy as a person, chooses not to inquire about what it was she wanted to say, despite how much he wants to. Nancy is stubborn; she won’t tell him now that she’s made up her mind not to. So instead he gives her another soft smile in return, and he can tell that the exhaustion that lines Nancy’s face is mirrored in his own.

“You got it, pardner. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

As Nancy closes the door behind him and turns the lock, she attempts to clear up the foggy haze in her mind. It’s no secret to her that the state of her health is affecting her ability to think clearly, let alone how doggedly tired she is; she wishes she could fully process all the events from tonight, but her stupid brain simply doesn’t want to function when she feels this awful. She pads into the living room where her darkened phone lies next to Aunt Eloise’s old analog clock, unlocking it with a quick swipe and tap of her passcode. The screen is already illuminated with what she was looking for, which is the text conversation of hers & Joe’s from around 1 that afternoon.

J: hey Nance! How goes it? Any big cases pop up for you lately? N: No, unfortunately I’m stuck at home with one of the worst colds I’ve had in a very long time. 😕 How are you? J: aw man! that’s no fun! 😟 I’m sorry to hear that. J: I don’t feel like it would be very considerate of me to tell you that Frank & I just scored one of the most promising cases of our young careers… J: but… you know, you asked. N: 🙂 that’s great, Joe! Where are you guys off to? J: Barcelona! We got a tip from one of dad’s colleagues that there’s this really creepy serial killer out there. All female victims, and the guy always leaves a rose with a slip of paper, “mi amor”. Police are scratching their heads, as usual J: as usual for these kind of cases at least N: Wow, that sounds so exciting! Have fun and stay safe you two! N: When do you leave? J: Our flight takes off tomorrow night N: Oh, awesome. Well keep me posted! I’d love to help in any way I can! J: As if we would have it any other way!

That last message had made her grin a little the first time she read it - it was just so very Joe of him. Hearing about this case of theirs really invigorated Nancy’s adventurous spirit, and she wishes more than anything that she could join them on this journey - but alas, her immune system had other plans for her. She internally smacks herself on the head at the fact that she almost asked him such a ridiculous question - that if he wanted to avoid the drive home, he could simply stay here overnight and take her with him to join Frank at the airport tomorrow. She could easily purchase a plane ticket before tomorrow night, she had thought in her sleepy haze before recognizing what an outlandish idea that was. She’s way too sick to go off on a case, and she wouldn’t want to intrude anyway. Plus, if he had stayed, where would he sleep? Nancy certainly wouldn’t want to confine him to sleeping on the couch, but the Drew home doesn’t have a guest bedroom and it just felt… wrong to let someone else sleep in her dad’s or Hannah’s bed while they’re away.

Or…

She briefly – VERY briefly – considers the glowing warmth and selfish comfort it would provide to have another person stay at her side her for the night.

… Goodness, I’m really out of it.

It’s both a weird thought and a dumb one, because Joe is just a friend and she doesn’t want to get him sick. It’s at this point she checks to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, though she’s quite sure the feeling is simply from the congestion in her head.

Altogether, the whole thing was a poorly thought out proposal by a confused, debilitated mind, which is why she didn’t ask in the end. It was silly and she knows it.

She walks to the archway between the entry and the living room and lets out another groan, this one even more aggressive than the last; she needs to get some sleep. The trash on the table, truthfully, could wait until morning.

As she painstakingly climbs each stair one at a time, however, she gains enough clarity to register the fact that she was incredibly thankful to have a friend so spontaneous and caring in her life. Not many people would drive for 4 hours just to bring you a simple bowl of soup.

Her eyes fall closed as she trods towards her bedroom door, only a few feet in front of her now.

Joe is pretty cool on his own, she thinks with a yawn, it’s really too bad I haven’t spent much time with him - just him - until now.

Also… she’s going to have to ask him where he got that chicken noodle soup from. That was some really good soup.

[randomoranges]

it’s post holidays but whatever.

also this one is more - vignetty.

also i changed its title like 4 times.

also, let’s play a game called “can we actually link together most of these holiday fics into one universe?” 

the answer is yes.

8 of them can be linked together ha ha ha (if you wish)

Here’s what it would look like: Last Christmas I Gave you My Heart [Please Come Home for Christmas], Auld Lang Syne [And a Happy New Year], Baby It’s Cold Outside [Turn the Lights On], I’ll be Home for Christmas [For the Holidays You Can’t Beat Home Sweet Home], It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year [Kiss me Underneath the Mistletoe], Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time [Ransack the Mall, Shop Until you Lose Your Mind], Merry Christmas Darling [Take a Walk with Your Favourite Girl], I’ll Have a Blue Christmas Without You [Christmas Calling - Bright Lights Falling]

also there is One More Xmas fic left. Finally. 

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time [ Ransack the Mall, Shop Until You Lose Your Mind ]

 Étienne rolled over in bed and tried to find Edward, in order to curl up around him and take advantage of his body heat, but instead, the spot beside him was empty, if a little warm. He furrowed his face in Edward’s pillow and for a moment, it was sufficient, until even that wasn’t warm enough and he heard movement coming from somewhere else in the room. He knew it was late – or more, like early. He ignored it at first, his brain too sleep-lagged to properly care, or process things, but when he heard the noise again, he stirred, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Ed?” He asked, even if it sounded less like “Ed” and more like a mutated groan.

There was movement again in the room, until the bed dipped and Étienne recognised the familiar scent of Edward. He moved towards the warm body and reached for whatever part of his boyfriend he could find first, which ended up being an elbow.

“Early. Bed.” He said, making Edward chuckle.

“You go back to sleep, Teddy, I have to get ready.”

Étienne frowned, but then relaxed when he felt a gentle hand run through his hair. Still, Edward wasn’t slipping back under the blankets and that only put a slight damper on his current bliss. “Time?”

“Close to four thirty.”

Étienne frowned again, even if he was half-asleep. It’s what got him to sit up and give Edward a puzzled look, even if the look was more of a squint and his eyes were mostly still shut, “Remind me again, why?”

It was a tradition, Edward told him, when poor people lined the mall to get good deals on televisions and bread makers, because limited amount of stock and capitalism. Where every year, on Boxing Day, he and his mother went to the mall to get things they had been eyeing at bargain prices and where poor employees went in late Christmas Day to get ready. Edward had asked Étienne if he wanted to come along, but Étienne had told him, that even though he loved him dearly, and even though he got along well with Edward’s mother, there was absolutely no way in hell that he would go anywhere near a mall, on Boxing Day. Ever. Especially at this God forsaken time.

Edward had called him soft.

Étienne told him he needed at least some sleep.

Edward had told him it was his loss.

Étienne had told him to have fun and had even given him fifty dollars to “get something nice.”

Edward had thrown a pillow at him. (But he’d kept the money. A gift was a gift. And he could do a lot of damage with a fifty.)

“Because, it’s capitalism, baby,” He said with a laugh to his voice and Étienne groaned. “And, also, we really need a new toaster.” He paused as he put on a pair of pants, “Gotta have a hearty breakfast so we have energy for bargains! Also, by getting an early start we can be first in line – all part of the Strategy, Curly, you sure you don’t want in? We could use the extra set of hands.”

Étienne made a face at that – he wasn’t sure he would ever understand the logic behind such suffering, but if it made Edward happy, who was he to stop him? Hell, he didn’t even go Boxing Day shopping back home – and stores opened at 1pm back home! He had nearly fainted when Edward had told him stores here opened at normal times and people lined up even earlier. He had heard all about the Strategy so many times that he still wasn’t entirely sure how it worked out, but Edward and Mrs. Murphy swore by it and he wasn’t about to argue. He valued his spot in the good graces of Mrs. Murphy – he’d heard what happened to those who fell out of the good graces of Mrs. Murphy. (It wasn’t pretty.)

“God speed,” He chose to say instead and plopped back down in bed, pulling the covers over himself.

Edward chuckled softly and tucked him in, before placing a kiss to his forehead, “Be good – we should be back this evening, maybe earlier, depends. Anyways, Dad’s staying home, but he’ll be glued to the TV – World Juniors and Spengler start today. You’re more than welcome to watch with him – and don’t worry, I got you some real beer if you want – it’s in the back of the fridge.”

Étienne made a sound that could have been acknowledgement, but Edward didn’t stay to find out and instead headed out, while Étienne fell back asleep.

–

When Étienne deigned it was late enough to get up, he padded out of Edward’s old childhood bedroom and made his way to the main floor. He briefly remembered Edward telling him he was off to the mall, what felt like hours before, and true to his boyfriend’s word, he found Mr. Murphy sitting in the living room sofa, sporting his Team Canada sweater, with the TV on.

It was a good thing Étienne had already previously met Edward’s parents, for this would have been a much more daunting morning had he not. It wasn’t that Edward’s parents weren’t nice, but between the two of them, Mrs. Murphy was much easier to read than her husband. Mrs. Murphy was warm and welcoming. She was easy with words, a quick hug and she had a killer sense of humour. Her husband, on the other hand, was a man of few words.

Mr. Murphy was tall, built like a mountain, very strong and very intimidating looking. He had a full head of very dark hair, an intelligent look in his hazel eyes and sharp features. Étienne believed Edward would look like his father in thirty or so years, if he was half a foot taller and worked on the rigs for twenty odd years. Mr. Murphy was a family man who had done what he had needed to do to support a wife and two children. He had made sacrifices and had worked hard to make sure his family never needed for anything. He liked his sports channel, he liked his beer, and he fiercely loved his family.

From what Edward had told him, his father was proud of his province, loved where he was from, loved to take his truck out for a ride, and had strong conservative values. He and Edward had not always seen eye to eye and for a long time, Edward had been convinced his father would disown him the moment he found out he was gay, but as it turned out, Mr. Murphy equally loved his son fiercely. Over the years after Edward’s coming out, they had mended their broken bridges and had actually learnt to get to know one another. Now, at least, Edward knew that even if his father was more of the silent type and didn’t always express his feelings, and even if they didn’t always agree on politics, his father still wanted what was best for him and had his back. Therefore, it had been a relief when Mr. Murphy hadn’t told Étienne to leave and instead had invited him to sit at the table, when Edward had brought him over, a few summers ago. (And if anyone asked, Étienne had not been a nervous mess at the time. At all.)

It was why Étienne felt quite at ease (or, at ease) politely greeting Mr. Murphy, making himself something to eat, and then getting comfortable on the living room loveseat afterwards with his sketchbook and phone, while Mr. Murphy gave him a quiet play by play of what had happened up until now with the games.

–

Étienne ended up spending most of his morning and early afternoon watching hockey with Mr. Murphy. Even if Team Canada wasn’t playing, Mr. Murphy watched the other games to see what Team Canada could eventually face, if they got to play these teams, or when they would play them. The man certainly knew his hockey and was quite enthused about the sport, if Étienne was to judge by the comments he kept making. He even switched between the World Juniors tournament and the Spengler cup, but only during breaks and intermissions, since the Juniors’ had more at stake than the Spengler – or so Mr. Murphy said. Étienne didn’t mind and kept up with the games as he doodled away in his sketchbook.

“I remember back in 2015 when Connor McDavid came back. There was a lot of hype around that year’s Team Canada – a lot of talent as well. The great thing about this is you have all this up and coming talent, but you also get these surprises. You never know who’ll shine. Anything is possible.” He said and Étienne nodded, not quite sure what to add to that. “Hope Team Canada makes it far this year.” He added.

“I don’t see why they shouldn’t – they have a strong defence and that Dufour has a pretty solid forecheck. But they’re in a tight group and the other teams seem to have a lot of dept as well. Plus, Switzerland can be surprising and both Finland and Russia are juggernauts. They’ll have to be careful.”

Mr. Murphy sat up a little straighter and looked at Étienne, surprised, “Didn’t think you knew your hockey that well, son,” Étienne shrugged, even if his cheeks pinked a little.

“I follow the tournament – my sister volunteered the two years it was in Montreal. It’s an intensive game – more creative than regular hockey.”

Mr. Murphy nodded sagely, “Who would’ve thought the art kid knew so much about hockey?” He laughed and luckily, Étienne had had enough talks with Mr. Murphy (even if they were few) to know that he was only joking and that “art kid” was more of am endearment than an insult.

“I am absolutely full of surprises, Mr. Murphy,” Mr. Murphy laughed even louder and Étienne couldn’t help but grin.

“You know, I think your old man might actually like me,” He wrote to Edward, even if his boyfriend wouldn’t see his message until he got back home – or in his mother’s car.

–

It was indeed evening when Edward and his mother returned, loaded with bags and Étienne and Mr. Murphy helped them unload the car. (Étienne stayed inside but carried the bags from the door to the kitchen – it was cold outside and he didn’t have polar bear skin, unlike his boyfriend – or his boyfriend’s father, who was going from the car to the door in nothing but his slippers and what he had been wearing earlier.)

“I see this was a productive shopping trip,” Étienne said as a means of greeting once the last of the bags were in.

“It was, but I met my quota of people for the rest of the year. There were so many people, oh my God, but my mom and I still managed to get everything we wanted and then some,” He high-fived his mother as she walked by and Étienne shook his head, amused, “The Strategy, once more, proved to be flawless,” Étienne still wasn’t sure he understood the folly behind this madness, but he supposed there were many things that he did that Edward did not understand either.

“Good thing the year ends soon.” Étienne said, grinning as Edward made a face.

“Why am I not even surprised you said such a thing?”

“I am a gift, Murphy, you need to appreciate it.”

Edward stuck out his tongue, but Étienne only laughed as he helped Edward out of his jacket and hung it in the closet, “Jokes put aside, you look beat, d’you want me to run you a bath after you put everything away?”

“Yes, please, you’re the absolute best; so, how was your day? And what’s this with my father actually liking you?”

Étienne recapped his day as he helped Edward empty out the bags and told him about the games he had watched. He paused every now and again as Edward showed him his purchases of the day and once they were done, Étienne kept his promise and ran Edward a bath with extra bubble bath.

If Edward nearly fell asleep in the tub, Étienne blamed it on the “Strategy.”

FIN

[ain-t-bovvered]

14x15 Commentary

Special episode where a bunch of tired and caffeinated Europeans ( plus a sleepy American) scream together, and then die and try to get on with their day ( lol AS IF)

Hello and welcome:

@purpleskiesandcherrypies  (Nat)

@dean-winchesters-bacon  (Kat)  good night babe

@waywardbaby  (Zee)

@ain-t-bovvered  (Giulia)

1  2  3  4   5  6  7  8  9  10   11   12  13 14

Giulia: Oh the music is the stupid episode kind of music

Nat: awww

Zee: Baby dean

Giulia: THE WHIMPERING 

J: I didn’t want to leave it there. And I didn't want to just kill it.

M: I’m looking for a new home

Giulia: I can be your new home bb

Nat: NO

Giulia: I DON T TRUST IT

Zee: Bamf Jack!! Two words I never thought I’d use In the same sentence

Nat: We're in Lawrence aren't we

Zee: In what year?

Scooby doo matinee 2$ . WHAT

oh look a Metallica poster. I still have that CD 

Giulia: oh look My aesthetic

Giulia: That James Dean vibe tho

What’s this stupid music.

Zee: Charming acres???

Nat: "Where Everybody's Happy" Are we in Pleasant Ville?

I don’t trust shit.

Zee: Splash

See..?

Nat: Brain-mush

Giulia: CLEAN AISLE 3

Nat: Well, good morning to my breakfast

Giulia: TRUEST REACTION on supernatural EVER

Giulia: he loves that snake

Nat: SNAKY

C: *knocks* Hey Jack?

J: I’m good Castiel. [OMG DAAAAD stop breathing on my neck]

C: [sigh, semi-soulless teenagers]

Giulia: What’s up with the all black

C: How's the snake?

J: I don't think he's feeling well. He won’t eat.

well...doesn’t snakes eat rarely tho? like....once a week or something?

Zee: He misses his previous owner

LOOK AT THAT CUTE FUCKING SOFT SMILE . FUCK YOU MISHA

C: He's been through a lot of changes in a short period of time. I guess that's something you have in common.

Nat: He's going dark

Zee: Concerned dad

C: Jack, you killed Michael. You consumed his grace.

Giulia: I. DON T. TRUST. THIS. DID HE THO?

but also.....right now I’m that granny that mistook Cas for her 3rd husband , : “you are so pretty Charles”

Nat: I feel different now.... YA THINK

J: You want to know how much of my soul I had to burn off to kill Michael.

Yeah fuck I wanna know ok.

Nat: How could he know?!

Giulia: can’t cas look it up

Nat: He could stick his hand in there.

Giulia: HE COULD

Nat: That sounded wrong

Giulia: IT DID.

Zee: Deep inside. There I made it worse

J: I try not to think about it.

BAD. 

I don’t like that hollow stare Jack, I swear to fucking god Imma slap your soul back into your body.

so I’m listening to the ep with my headphones and BOOOOOOY DID I HEAR THAT SIGH [cranking up the volume to the max and goes back]

Nat: I could eat him alive. And the sandwich

A wild Castiel appears.

C: Oh. Thought you, uh, were gonna sleep until the cows dragged you home.

D: That's not the -- Never mind.

THE *claps* DOMESTICS *claps*

AWE Cass asked about Rowena. [ what was the ship name again? Rostiel?, Caswena?Witchywings?

AWE CAS ASKED ABOUT SAM. [SASTIEEEEL]

D: I think they're both full of crap.

Of course they are, this is Supernatural. Cue painful montage! 

*jazz hands*

Giulia: Poor sam

Zee: PTSD

Nat: Sammy :(

Giulia: They were his people

Sam and his fucking trembling lips

Nat: Aw Baby let me hug you

[Dean eating]

Giulia: Das me

Nat: I'm still hungry

Zee: Damn that mouth. It’s big

Giulia: What does it do tho ? wiggling eyebrows

Zee: It eats!! Everything

S: Yeah, well... I'm leaving in ten.

C: Maybe I should go with him. And you can stay with Jack.

me : GASP YES

D: Why do you think he'll talk to me?

hE ‘S YOUR SOOOOON!

C: Well, because he looks up to you.

Dean don’t you roll your eyes at your hub. It’s impolite.

D: I was not great with Sam, you know, when he was, uh...

STOP right there. Don’t give me flashbacks

D: Well, how am I supposed to figure that out?

Cass, your Misha is slipping out, put that voice back into the cave it came out of 

C : Just talk to him. Get him to open up.

Audience : * SNORTS * yeah riiiight

C: Sleep until the cows come home.

D: There it is.

C: That's the saying.

*CLAPS* DOMESTICS

Nat: I'm hungryyyyyyyy

Zee: We’ve established that Nat

Nat: I mean.... APART FROM THIRSTYYYYYYYYYYY

Giulia: I’m eating nuts

Zee: I bet you are

Nat: Nut juice. Food against hunger and thirst. New Bumper sticker

Awe Cas is driving BB. [but where is the pimp mobile]

S: I'm good, honestly

C:  YEAH I KNOW EVERYBODY IS GOOD

UUUUUH Cas baby, get me all tingly with your sarcasm

Also write that under the series main title as a warning really. 

SUPERNATURAL :  EVERYBODY IS GOOD

Listen Sam, baby, I can hear your voice breaking, stop with the bullshit.

C is like....you can fill so much bullshit in that moose body

S: we don't have as many Hunters as we used to.

OUCH

Zee: Cas learnt how to use his badge

Giulia: Lame

Nat: "We're FBI..."

Look how cute my baby is...look at him *sobs*

C: Was it more "Scanners" 1, 2, or 3? 

OH WOW, IS CAS BEING DEAN RIGHT NOW?  (because I’m all for it.)

Giulia: I bet dean made him watch that.

Nat: Charming Acres

Nat: I don't wanna live there

Giulia: I DOOOOO

Zee: It’s creepy ffs

Nat: It's all shades of fucked up. I mean, look!

LOVE IT

C: It's like we're stepping into a Saturday Evening Post. I look at them sometimes after you fall asleep at night. They're very soothing.

I had to google that , not gonna lie. Also....HOW FUCKING CUTE IS THAT?! 

Giulia: DEM HAAAAAIR THO.

Giulia: FOXY WIFE

Zee: Foxy wife

S: What was that?

Giulia: i love that time, minus the racism and patriarchy and the war.

Nat: What is wrong with these people

Giulia: Living my dream ok

Zee: Oh shut up babe

Nat: I don't like perfect

Giulia: Cas and his bed hair

Giulia: DEM MILKSHAKES. I BET THERE IS SOMETHING IN THERE

Zee: Something fishy, lass

Sammy likes them milkshakes tho

Is it just my impression or Cas is running out of fucks this season?? I love it.

FLATFOOTS

Zee&Nat: We take care of each other.

mmm, don’t like that

Zee: Don’t like the way that sounded

Giulia: suspicious

Mayor: They said something about an aneurysm or something?

C:

Zee: His head exploded

Nat: His head exploded

Giulia: OH NO HIS HEAD EXPLODED

Zee: Gotta love Cas

Giulia&Nat: Like a ripe melon on the sun

Giulia: GOTTA LOVE HIM

Sam panicking.

S: "Like a ripe melon on the sun"?

C: It was an apt metaphor.

As I said : Angel out of fucks

S: Okay, well, maybe next time try to be a little less...apt.

C: The entire town is so strangely picturesque.

Giulia: I KNOOOOOW! , Can I go there?

Zee: NOOOOOOO

Nat: We wouldn't let you

Giulia: Dat dress.

Nat: Bonding time

Jack just gave the snake the cookie crunch , sobs so pure....for now

J: I think he’s sad

Nat: Have you tried bacon

Bacon....the solution to everything. I mean....not wrong, it’s delicious.

Giulia:  so dorky

Sniffs Chinese food

D: Well, anyway, you and the, uh, snake...want to go for a little dri-ive?

gets mice .

Nat: mice scare him?

ok but Dean is that squeamish sometimes . It’s hilarious.

...because the mice scared me and I need confort. Also I’ll probably avoid Chinese food for a month so there’s that.

Nat: Ahhh... Jack really talks to that thing

Woman: Not people. Men. I only rent to young men. It's not proper -- young women living alone?

Nat: MORALS. GOTTA HAVE MORALS

*looks at Castiel*

Woman: You know.

...C i like....what

me: sHe fLirtS

Nat: Ya still wanna go there, @Giulia

Zee: She’ll say yes

Giulia: YEAH. Y’all can’t stop me

Zee: See? I’ll tie you down bitch just watch

Nat: Ya CAnT LiVE oN YOuR oWn

Giulia: I’ll work at the diner

Time for some SNOOPING 

Giulia: So much hand porn for me

C: - they're...surprisingly passionate.

Sam with a tiny ass cup ready for some gossiping: Passionate how?

Castiel without a speck of blush: She spends, uh, quite a bit of time talking about the -- the shape and the heft of his --

Zee: Such a tiny cup

Please tell me there a DICK PICK in there lol

S: It's getting late, Cass. And you're right. I-I probably need some rest.

oh noe

C: You want to stay here? 

S: Why not? Ms. Dowling's making pot roast.

OH NOE

Nat: I can smell head explosion

Zee: I can smell the bleach they’ll use

Nat: And there you go

Giulia: NICE  I can live in that fantasy idc 

Nat: You won't have us

Giulia: I wouldn’t know

Zee: Impossible. We’re seeped in your bones

Giulia: You can’t miss what you don’t remember

Nat: Yo head's going to explode when you remember, Giuls

D: Why don't you grub up? We still got another couple hours.

J: I'm not really hungry.

I DON’T LIKE IT

D: Give him one of these. I bet he's never had that before.

DEAN NO

J:  I don't think you have a firm grasp on what snakes eat.

Zee: Uncomfortable dean

D: Yeah, I always thought they were kind of cool, though.

Nat: Aww...adorable Dean

Giulia: I thrive out of these moments

Zee: Road trip with dad

D: Mm. Well, it's not the snake that's dangerous. It's their...bite.

J:  Is -- Is that a saying?

D: It is now.

Nat: hahah... is Dean looking with one he's going to pick?

Nat: Dad move

Giulia: Was that really a way to test jack? With CAKES

Nat: Dean move

Sam’s room is empty

Giulia: Weird Sam time

Zee: Not good

Nat: I told ya

Giulia: Das me jamming

Giulia: He so awkward

Giulia: HALLO!

Giulia: No i don t eat.I'm looking for my partner.

Mrs B: Oh. The very nice, the very tall fella?

Castiel angel of the lord? more like Castiel angel of I’VE RUN OUT OF FUCKS

Mrs.B: Hm. He said he's going for a walk. [pause ]  And a milkshake.

Giulia: Still me jamming,  ‘He’s got tan shoes with pink shoelaces’

Nat: yeah i mean, what's with her. all of a sudden a new husband?

Nat: My partner

Giulia: I’m looking  my partner

Nat: The tall man - yes the very tall man

Zee: The very tall. Man

Giulia: I WOULD HAVE DIED. CAN HE GRAB MY HANDS TOO

Nat: Mr smith is gone long live Mr smith

Giulia: I would like a martini yes

Zee: I was waiting for this

C: Hair? ---He has beautiful hair?

Giulia: HE HAS

Nat: he has beautiful hair

Giulia: BEAUTIFUL HAIR

Giulia: THIS IS COMPLICATED . Cas is like...... WHAT IS THIS I WAS NOT PROGRAMMED FOR THIS. PEOPLE . PEOPLE SKILL. NOT FUNCTIONING .

Giulia: OH LOOK THAT’S MY MOM

Nat: what

Nat: the

Nat: fuck

Giulia: i’m loving this cas

C: I'm so sorry, but last night, his head, um --

Giulia: he had to pause

Giulia: That laugh was creepy

Nat: How about that martini?

Mrs. Smith : No...my husband he’s good.

[ SNORTS ]

Nat: OH god... no I need a drink

Nat: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Giulia: ...

Nat: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Giulia: EW

Nat: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nat: That pony tail

Zee: I don’t like this

Giulia: THAT’S SWELL

Nat: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO JUSTIN NO GOOD

what’s up wITH THE FUCKING POT ROAST ?

Nat: Honey, make me one too! Dammit

Giulia: SAME I NEED 5

Zee: A round of martinis please

C: This is not your house.

Justin!Sam : 

Justin!Sam :  You're right. This is my wife's house. I am simply living here.

Giulia: OH YOU

C: Something terrible's happened.

you right, those hair happened

Justin!Sam: I'm feeling adventurous.

Nat: Rawr ?

Giulia: NO

Giulia: I CAN T

Zee: I can’t process

Justin!Sam : So that's a no-no on the hooch?

I think Jared had too much fun in this. I WANT ALL THE BLOOPERS PLEASE PLEASEEEEE

Giulia: I’m laughing so much

Nat: You watch your mouth

Giulia: SIR U WATCH UR MOUTH

Zee: Skedaddle

Nat: I don't wear a hat , dammit I.... uh

Zee: Bitch

Giulia: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT

Justin!Sam : Sir, using language like, uh, "H-E-double hockey sticks" --

Nat: Wash your mouth out with soap?

Giulia: GUYS, I haven’t had this much fun on spn in a long time.

I can’t breathe

Zee: I’m dying here

Nat: Double hockey sticks?

oh....OH.....I GOT IT NOW....GOLLY...WHAT THE HECKIE

Nat: STILL WANNA LIVE THERE?

Giulia: YEAH SHUT UP

Nat: ZETa

Zee: What?

Nat: Giuls is willing to leave us and go live there

Giulia: I LIKE THE AESTHETICS

Zee: As I said. Not possible. The amount of the insanity that she has shared with us won’t let her

Donatello : Ah, I am just the picture of health. Except for my prostate. It's shaped like a papaya.

...THANK YOU BB

also...do you guys think the Winchester get their prostate checked? or do they call.....Doctor Novak? (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)

Nat: Dena really doesn't like snakes. Dean. Not Dena. Well, maybe Dena too. I wouldn't know

Giulia: We don’t judge

Zee: Never

Giulia: I LOVE HIM

Giulia: God sister snacked on it

Giulia: That’s a big ass cup

Nat: That's a big cup

Zee: Black hole

Giulia: ...

Giulia: This succession of texts is cursed

Nat: Not going there, Giuls

Zee: Again. I concur

Giulia: I ain’t said shit ya pervs

Zee: YET

Nat: You were thinking it. That's enough

Zee: ABOUT TO SAY IT

Giulia: You two were thinking it too , get off that high horse

Zee: offended gasp

J: And when it was gone, how did you -- how'd you feel?

Donatello: Like...the galaxy. You know, Jack, our galaxy's all bright and shiny and spinny, but in its center lies this very large black hole.

Donatello: I'm all bright and shiny, obviously. Not so much spinny  But inside? Empty.

Donatello : Losing your soul doesn't make you bad It doesn't make you anything. It's, um... an absence of...of pity, of empathy...of humanity.

J: I know I don't feel...nothing, but I don't feel the same, either. And maybe I just don't know what nothing feels like. Mostly, I just don't want Sam and Dean and Cass to worry. I just -- I need time and space to figure things out on my own, but everywhere I go, there's someone looking over my shoulder.

Giulia: I get that boo 

Nat: MAKE ME CRY JACK

J: Sam and Dean are the best men I know.

Nat:  FUCK YOU. I'M CRYING 

Donatello : whenever you don't want them to worry just think "WWWD" -- "What Would the Winchesters Do?"

Giulia: Pew pew pew pew pew pew. That’s what they’ll do. Sex stares. Bitchfaces. Bacon. Rocking off. Kill monsters. BOOKS. 

Zee: Kicking asses, taking names

Giulia: Kick names , take ass

Nat: there goes giuls

Zee: Oh babe!!!  Right there

Nat: I should not engage in this convo because it's going to be dirty

Zee: He’s not like you?!

Donatello : I suppose the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a soul?

D: Donny.

Donny: What?

Nat: He seems ok

Nat: SEEMS

Donny: Jack's probably the most powerful being in the universe. [Creepy music starts to play....I sweat]  I mean, really, who knows what's going on inside his head?

Giulia: I like donatello

D [ with the anxiety of a thousands suns ] : ...thanks

Zee: Erotic musings

Giulia: Cas saying “steamy” and “erotic” is making me tingling

Zee: Rip it from your ...

YOU KNOW WHAT HE CAN RIP OFF ME THO?

Nat: BAMF CAS

Giulia: And this too

Nat: Of course it's him

Zee: What are you ?

Nat: Sam's so tall

Zee&Giuls: The squint

Zee: Giuls shut up

Mayor: and no matter what I did, people would turn to drink or drugs, they'd move away.

Giulia: Oh boo hoo .Let me do drug in peace.

Mayor: ...And you know what happened next?

C:  No, but I have a feeling you're gonna tell me.

[I’m all out of fucks anyway ]

Giulia: THE SNARK

C: I won't hurt you, Sam.

Justin!Sam:  Golly, I told you my name is Justin!

Giulia: GOLLY

Nat: Justin!Sam is this a thing now?

Giulia: i hope

Zee: Giuls. That’s all for you. Cas kicking ass

Giulia: I know I’m sweating. Look at this shit

H    O    T

Giulia: NO IDC ABOUT THEM LEMME SEE CAS

C: Fight this! 

J S: Why? I'm happy in Charming Acres.

Giulia: THAT’s US

Nat: That's us against Giuls

C: Sam, I know you want to be happy. And I know what it's like to lose your army. I know what it's like...to fail as a leader, Sam. But you can't lose yourself.

You have to keep fighting.

You can't lose yourself, because if you do, you fail us. You fail all of those that we've lost. You fail Jack. Sam, you fail Dean.

Nat: make me cry

Giulia: omg I’m crying

Giulia: I’m cryiiing and I’m tired of seeing Cas and that fucking blade like that ok.STOP IT. [ going into MOC Dean ptsd ]

Zee: Lool

Nat: OH no no brain explosion please

Zee: I’m god

Giulia: We met god. God has a beard

Zee: God has a beard

Giulia: God is ma dad

Nat: NO

Giulia: YAS QUEEN

Zee: I like her now

Giulia: make his head go splat

Zee: Vegetable

Giulia: Psh lame

Nat: hey, not bad huh?

Giulia: Laaaaame

Zee: You needed the splat!

Nat: you know lame when you get there giuls

Zee: Nat. We’ve established we won’t let her

Giulia: BuT ThE dREsSeS

Giulia: God dean

Nat: Dean stop being adorable

j: It was...illuminating

D ... the fuck, stop talking like your angel father.

D: Heard you wore a cardigan.

C:  Yeah, I told him about the cardigan.

S: Great. Thanks.

D: And the wife.

Giulia: What about the ponytail

Giulia: Wait, Cas and dean talked about it on the phone [dies]

D: Well, not a lot of happy goin' on around here.

Nat: Wow, Dean feel a stab in his heart

S:  I hate this place right now. I hate it.

S:  Everywhere I look, I see them. I see Maggie. I guess that's why, uh -- why I was so desperate to get out of here, why I kept running us ragged. But I got to stop that. I-I can't keep running. I -- This is my home.

This is our home.

Dean, I think I just need some time.

Giulia: Yeah same

Nat: Sammy babe

Zee: How couldn’t they have

Giulia: Awe this is the hurt Sammy season. Again

D:  Okay.

Giulia: STAPH

Giulia: WITH

Giulia: THAT

Giulia: LOOK

Giulia: JARED

Zee: Sam needs a million years in therapy

Nat: You need help

Giulia: NO

Zee: Oh no

Giulia: I DON T LIKE IT

J: Sam and Dean would help you, so -- so I'll help you.

Nat:. Nah, Dean wouldn't

J: I'll help you see your friend again. 

Giulia: FUCKING

Nat: No

Giulia: NO

J:  In Heaven.

Nat: What

Giulia: JAAACK

Nat: Jack

Giulia: THank god cas saw it

Nat: Wtf

Zee: Yeah. That wasn’t good

Giulia: Oh shuttttt uuuup

Giulia: PROMO

Zee: Dean in a suit. Alien vs predator

Nat: Creepy, me likey

Giulia: Eh

Nat: OK babes, i gotta go. Nat: See ya! it was a pleasure.

Zee: Always

Giulia: Go have some milkshake

.

.

.

If you want to get tagged in the future ones send an ask HERE or to @waywardbaby or a smoke signal, idk whatever I’m tired af.

TAGS: @wayward-angelgirl  @destiel-honeypie      @mariekoukie6661      @dragontamerm       @closetspngirl    @rainflowermoon     @mattiecat       @bunnybaby121115  @aliaitee2    @jacks-word-of-the-day     @4evamc       @dammitsammy     @legendary-destiel   @winchesterprincessbride    @destielhoneybee    @castiellover20   @jacks-word-of-the-day  @ravenhg @evvvissticante 

[wickedsingularity]

Christmas Miracle [one-shot]

wickedsingularity’s Christmas Stories 2018 Masterlist

Fandom: MCU Pairings/characters: Steve Rogers x reader (but not really), Wanda Maximoff, and all the Avengers post AOU/pre CACW (and @iguess-theyre-mymess starring as Sam Wilson's girlfriend/baking-partner) Words: 3747 Warnings: Angst, fluff, overworked, stress, nagging family, kissing, almost smut

Prompt/summary: When work and Christmas and sleep deprivation just becomes too much… Steve comes home from a mission and sets off a miracle. (Inspired partly by my own life and partly a Norwegian commercial.)

The busiest time of the year was busier than ever. It was also supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, but with all the rogue HYDRA agents running around it was just stress, stress and more stress. They'd been fairly quiet all year, but now, right before the holidays, they were everywhere. Steve and Natasha had been sent away to deal with the larger of the suddenly active groups, and I was running around at home, working my ass off.

As the IT manager to the Avengers and what was left of SHIELD, I shouldn't be too busy, Tony made sure we had state of the art equipment, and I was pretty damn good at my job if I could say so myself. But it seemed that everything went wrong lately. I barely had time for my usual duties, as I was called here and there to fix the most ridiculous problems. And in the middle of it all, our servers crashed and I tried my best to get it back online as it was vital to Steve and Natasha's mission, even though everyone else felt their buggy printers or out-of-battery-mice was more important.

After a long day of fixing screens that showed everything upside down and saving a hard drive from someone accidentally opening a malicious attachment to an email and fixing the server temporarily and not doing any of the maintenance I was supposed to do, I dragged myself home to an empty apartment. Dry toast was my dinner and the couch was my best friend. That was also where I was reminded of all the other things I had to do at home. The lists were there in front of me on the table after one panicked evening when I decided I needed to write it all down in an orderly fashion. All the Christmas presents I had to buy, I had even figured out what to get everyone. All the baking I had to do. All the cleaning and decorating.

I groaned and reached lazily for the remote and turned the TV on. I don't know what channel it opened on because at that moment I got a text. I touched the fingerprint scanner and saw that it was from my mom. Have you decided what to do for Christmas yet? Your old room is waiting for you!

Another groan and my heart rate sped up. I glanced for a moment further up the thread.

I don't know. I don't know when Steve will be home.

If he can't come, you're welcome to come alone. Though we'd love to see you both!

Have you talked to Steve yet? Your grandparents are eager to see you too!

I hadn't replied to the last two, prompting her to send the current one. Steve's mission was on radio silence and no one knew how long it would take. I contemplated chucking my phone out the window.

Someone bursting into a Christmas song on the TV caught my attention. A family was gathered around their open front door, a group of cheery carollers standing in the driveway. I don't know what movie it was, because I tuned out before the guilt could overwhelm me. Instead, I remembered all the laundry I had to put away and dishes I needed to clean and the windows that needed to be cleaned because I could barely see through them, but I couldn't move from the couch. I just stared blindly at the TV for a long time, my mind going over all the things I had to do in an endless loop until another text dragged me back to reality.

This one was from Wanda. Want to skip work tomorrow and come with me to help me find a present for Vision? He's not easy to shop for.

I was able to reply to this one. I wanted nothing more than to get away from everything for a bit and spend some time with Wanda, maybe even get started on the Christmas presents, but I couldn't. I would have loved to, I need to get some shopping done too, but I'm still swamped with work. Everyone is useless. Laughing emoji.

Wanda's reply was quick. Oh, I'm sorry. Just let me know if you can get away, or if I can do some shopping for you while I'm out. Followed by five hugging emojis.

Thanks, I'll let you know!

A flash of guilt for saying no to Wanda went through me, even though I knew I was being ridiculous. I had just said no to her too many times the last few weeks.

I was done for the day. It was about nine, but I still turned off the TV and got ready for bed. On top of everything, whenever Steve was gone, it took me ages to fall asleep, and when I did sleep, I slept poorly and woke up early. So, I figured, the earlier I got into the bed, the earlier I would sleep and maybe long poor sleep was better than short deep sleep.

A few days later, nothing had changed, except I was now working alone. I had a few people working under me as the IT manager. Good people too. But all of them had applied for time off before Christmas and I'd granted it to all of them, except the one who was out sick. I worked better on my own anyway, it was faster and easier than getting more people involved. It was a flaw I had, one I was very aware of and one I should probably work on right now. It would have taken a lot of weight off my shoulders.

But I just couldn't do it. Not now. I did my best to fix everyone's problems and make sure the makeshift fix on the server didn't buckle under the strain and tried not to think of all the things I never got around to.

I was sleep deprived and stressed. My entire body was a tight knot of muscles, every time I turned my head my neck protested and pain shot through my head, my brain worked a million miles a minute, and my heart rate was probably through the roof and I nearly had a heart attack every time the phone rang or someone called my name in that please help me-tone of voice. I kept thinking about all the things I had to get done at work before Christmas but seemed to never have time for, and all the neglected tasks at home. The holidays were just days away. I decided to force myself out to get presents after work.

But when I got out, I was starving and exhausted, so I went home and would try to find all the presents online. With express shipping, I might get them all in time. And then I could spend a little bit of time every day the rest of the week, getting the apartment ready. I was proud of this idea and felt some of the burden lift from my shoulders.

But all I could find online was one present. Everything else was sold out. I was just about to throw my laptop into the toilet and cancel Christmas when my phone went off. I jumped half a foot off the couch, but my heart nearly exploded when I saw Steve's contact picture grinning up at me. I answered right away.

"Hi, doll." His voice was like a balm for my soul.

"Hi... I miss you." I felt my voice almost break, but I swallowed it down and hoped he didn't notice.

"I miss you too. How is my best girl?"

"Busy. So busy. But it's that time of year. When are you coming home?"

"Couple of days. We're just finishing up now. Did you work out the server glitch?"

"Sort of. It's online for now, but it's only a temporary solution. I suspect HYDRA has something to do with it though, given all the other things happening. But I'm doing my best."

"I believe in you, sweetheart."

"Fingers crossed." I grinned into the phone, trying to sound hopeful, but was glad he couldn't see how my lips twisted into a tight line instead.

We were silent for a few moments. I could hear him breathing at the other end, and I tried to imagine us curled up in bed, him the big spoon, his breath on my neck and his arms tight around me.

"I really miss you," I said.

"Are you okay?" Steve sounded concerned now.

"Yeah," I lied. "I just miss you. It's Christmas after all."

"I'll be home in two days, three tops."

"I can't wait."

"Me neither. Nat is waving me over. I got to go. I love you, okay?"

I felt the lump in my throat. "I love you too, Steven Grant." The line went dead and I dropped the hand holding the phone into my lap. "So much."

Steve hadn't been entirely truthful. He was already on his way home when he called, and he wanted to surprise her. But the call worried him. There had been something in her voice, something that told him she wasn't just busy, something was wrong.

After he had relieved Natasha as pilot, letting her get some sleep, he had called Wanda. If anyone knew if his girl was hiding something, it was the Scarlet Witch.

"She's been working really hard, Steve, everyone is on her tail," Wanda had explained. "According to Maria, her entire staff is gone for the holidays, and she's been doing everything herself. She is everywhere trying to help everyone and everything seems to be buggy. And whenever I see her, she gets paler and stiffer and there's a pained frown on her face. I don't think she's sleeping well either."

It was just as Steve expected. "Have you picked up on any of her thoughts?"

"You know I try not to do that." Wanda had hesitated for a moment. "But I couldn't have even if I wanted to. There are many thoughts in there, bleeding out. I couldn't pick out one from the other, without putting my hands around her head."

Steve pushed the Quinjet a bit faster after he had hung up. The hours flying back went by too slowly for his liking. Even slower was the medical check-up and the debriefing after. He tried to reschedule the debriefing for the next day, or at least a few hours later, but no such luck. By the time he went back to the apartment at the facility, she had gone off to work.

Steve stood still just a few steps inside the door, looking around. Next to the couch stood a basket of laundry that needed to be folded and put away. The dishwasher door was open and the inside was filled to the brim with dirty dishes. There were no Christmas decorations, no sign of anything Christmassy anywhere. Kicking off his boots, he walked further in and saw the handwritten lists and sticky notes on the coffee table. She had made orderly lists, and it made him crack a small smile, it was so typical her. They were sorted into what needed to be done around the house, what presents to buy for everyone, what Christmas decorations were to be put up, and what cookies to bake. Each list had a checkbox for "started" and "finished". The only thing checked off as finished was one of the presents for Tony, with a yellow sticky note next to it saying "online, estimated 23rd". No check marks in the started-columns.

He sighed and went into the bedroom to unpack his bag and take a much-needed shower. As he sat the bag down on the foot of the bed, he noticed that her side of the bed was barely slept in. Instead, her pillow had replaced his, and his was further down as if she'd been holding it while she slept. Steve's heart broke as he just imagined how these weeks had been for her. He knew she didn't sleep well without him, he didn't sleep well without her either. And she'd been so busy and she'd not had time for anything, she hadn't even answered her mother about Christmas judging by the texts Steve himself had gotten with questions about why she hadn't replied.

He set his bag on the floor, that could wait until later. And then he put the pillows back in their rightful place, pulled the covers up as neatly as he could.

"FRIDAY, are the others in and available right now?"

"Welcome home, Captain Rogers. Miss Romanoff is in the shower. Everyone else is in and available."

"Could you ask them to meet me here in half an hour? And could you call in Tony too? Say it's sort of a family emergency."

"Of course, Captain Rogers."

Steve tore off his uniform and went straight into the shower to wash away the grime of the mission. It was the quickest shower he'd taken his whole life. Body barely dry, he pulled on the first clothes he could find and got straight to work on the dishes, getting the machine started and handwashing the rest he could find.

Half an hour almost on the dot, there was a knock on the door. He told FRIDAY to open the door and Vision floated through before it was halfway open. Shortly after him, Wanda, Sam and Rhodey came in. And wet hair blowing behind her, a newly showered Natasha came running inside seconds later.

"What is this about a family emergency?" Rhodey asked.

"My poor girl has been working her ass off and has been running left and right to help everyone else but herself. I haven't been home to help out either. I was hoping we could all help her now. Before she gets home?"

They all nodded to a chorus of "of course".

Steve breathed out a sigh of relief. He would have tried to do it all himself if he had to, but he was glad they all wanted to help. He walked over to the coffee table and the lists there. "Sam, can I ask you to bake some cookies? You don't have to make everything on this list, but at least the ones that take the least time?"

The Falcon nodded and took the list Steve handed over. "I know just the person to help me with this," he said with a grin getting his phone out and walking over to the kitchen to make a call.

"This is a shopping list?" Wanda asked, grabbing one of the lists. "Vision and I can get this."

"Thank you, both of you. I can cross out what she's getting you, and get them myself later," Steve said.

"No, no, we'll look appropriately surprised."

Steve nodded and found his wallet, pulling out a credit card for them. "Rhodey, Nat, could you help me clean and decorate? If Tony shows up, he can help with that too."

"Sure, anything you need," Rhodey replied and Natasha nodded.

Steve looked around at them, and he had never been more grateful for each and every one of them. "Thank you, all of you. I know it's a lot of work and you probably have better things to do this close to Christmas, but I really appreciate this."

"It's no worry, Steve," Sam said, having just hung up and walked over while folding up the baking list. "We've all seen her getting more and more stressed lately. She's family, we're all family."

"This is what family does," Wanda added.

Soon, the apartment was filled with the fresh smell of soap. Dishes and laundry were dealt with, and Tony arrived with a gorgeous, plump spruce. Down the hall, the smell of baking made everyone salivate. Wanda sent pictures when she couldn't find the exact thing on the list and asked Steve for advice about what to get instead.

Decorating was next and everyone came in to help out a bit, while the gingerbread cookies were cooling before frosting, and when Wanda and Vision had finished all the gift shopping and placed them neatly wrapped around and under the tree in the common area.

It had been some long, hard hours, but the place was transformed. Steve had made sure everything was just the way she liked it and he couldn't wait for her to come home to this surprise. He didn't know how to thank everyone, but they assured him it was their pleasure as they left to let him rest for a little bit before she came home.

Steve sat down on the couch and looked around. It was almost perfect, there was just one thing left. He grabbed his phone and dialled a number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Steve."

"Oh, hi, Steve, dearest! How are you? How is my baby girl?"

"We're good, thank you. I just called to let you know what's happening for Christmas. I'm really sorry, but something has come up at work for both of us. We can't make it."

"Oh, what a shame... It's been so long since we've seen our precious daughter, and there are so many people who are dying to finally meet you."

"I know. We're really sorry. We'll try to take a few days after New Year's if that's okay with you."

"Yes, please do! Have a Merry Christmas both of you and try not to work too hard!"

"We'll try. Merry Christmas to you too, say hi to everyone for us!"

Another day of being pulled in every direction. Another day where I could barely get a moment to spare for what I was supposed to work on, instead I was helping everyone else with silly things, and no closer to a permanent solution on the server glitch. Another day closer to Christmas and nothing was done. And still two days until Steve came home. I didn't even want Christmas anymore.

The halls in the building were quiet. There was a lingering smell of baking, and I felt a stab of guilt at all the baking I had yet to do. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes.

"Well, I can always try again next year," I mumbled to myself as I pressed my hand to the scanner next to the door and it swung open. The apartment was dark, I was sure I had left at least the kitchen light on. I frowned. "FRIDAY, could you please turn on the lights?"

"Of course."

The whole apartment was flooded with light and I gasped. A tree, lights, stars, tinsel, Santas, it was all there. And from the couch, a figure emerged.

"Steve?"

"Hi, doll."

My purse dropped from my hands and I ran across the room and jumped into his arms. He made a sound as if the air was knocked out of him and then chuckled, his arms wrapping around me. But seeing him and feeling him after the past three weeks of hell without him and what he had clearly done for me, just made the damn burst. His name was wrenched from me in a whine before I buried my face in his neck and the tears fell freely from my eyes.

"Oh doll," he said and sat down on the couch with me still wrapped around him. "It's okay." His arms tightened around me, holding me as close as he could. He whispered in my ear, probably all the reassurances he could think of, but he could have been reciting all the numbers in Pi for all I cared. It was his voice and his warmth and the safety I felt around him that I cared about at that moment as all the stress and worries bled out of me. I hadn't wanted Steve to know how hard it had been, but somehow, he always knew, always found out. He could read me without seeing me, just like I could read him.

I don't know how long it was before I calmed down. But when I did, I was starving, and it was the growling of my stomach that had me pulling away from his drenched shirt.

"Don't worry, I've got dinner in the fridge, it just needs warming up," Steve said, his hands cradling my face, thumbs wiping at the wetness below my eyes.

"I thought you said you'd be home in two or three days," I said, frowning. "Not that I'm not happy to see you."

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, colour me surprised. How did you manage all this?"

"Everyone helped. All the gifts are bought and wrapped. There are cookies in the jars and boxes on the counter. The place is sparkling clean and festive."

My breath of relief turned into a chuckle and then laughter, and I couldn't stop. Steve's smile grew and grew until he too started laughing. I fell sideways on the couch and off his lap, lying on my back and heaved for my breath.

Steve leaned over, planting a kiss on my cheek and that finally made me stop. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice shaky. "You just came home from a mission and you're probably so tired and you haven't even had time to process it because you had to do all this and I just cry and laugh and I'm just a mess."

"I'm just glad to be home again and I'm happy I could help you get this done." He climbed in between my legs and finally pressed his lips against mine. The last bit of stress rolled off me and I hummed. "Oh, and if anyone in your family asks," he whispered against my lips, "something came up at work for both us," his lips moved down to my neck, "and we can't visit for Christmas."

"Oh, how I love you, Steven Grant Rogers," was all I managed to say.

His lips moved lazily against my neck, finding that spot just below my ear that turned me into putty in his arms. I raised my hips, grinding them against his, feeling the need for him bubble up inside me. But then he pulled back and sat up. "I love you too. But go take a quick shower and I'll warm up dinner. Your stomach is still growling."

I groaned and tried to kick him, but he dodged my legs and was up and by the fridge before I could say "bastard".

Permanent tags: @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @geeksareunique @iguess-theyre-mymess @neeadinghugs @earinafae @mattmurdocksgirl @joulien @imaginesofdreams @brewsthespirit-blog @lemonlime799 @reading-in-moonlight Marvel tags: @feelmyroarrrr @somethingwitty-somethingsweet

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[hollandorks]

The Montreal Problem

Chapter 4

Summary: The reader has big plans to spend a month in Montreal with her boyfriend. The problem? He breaks up with her just as her flight is leaving. Now she’s going to be stuck in an unfamiliar city for a month with no place to stay. That is, until an unexpected hero offers her a solution.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Epilogue 1 Epilogue 2 The London Problem

Word count: 3463

Author’s Note: So, so sorry for posting so late! Today was way busier than it was supposed to be, BUT I’m still posting it before it’s technically tomorrow! (By only 10 minutes and in my timezone, but still, I did it). 

Shoutout to everyone who told me to post today because I’m so excited about the chapters from here on out. Also shoutout to all of you asking to be on the tag-list! Seeing such a long list at the end of this chapter makes me so happy, so thank you all!! This chapter was a lot of fun to write as it’s kind of the moment when things start to pick up in the story. I hope you guys enjoy it! And I’ll almost definitely be posting at least one more time before the weekend is over (but probably two times, because who am I kidding) 

Y/N–Your Name

B/F/N–Boyfriend’s Name

Golden light spilled between the curtains and fell across your face. You groaned and squinted grumpily at the sun before rolling over. You were so comfortable, but so exhausted. You peeked at the time on your phone. It was after eleven in the morning, and you had a few missed texts.

The most recent was from Tom. Rented a car for the month. Hope you don’t mind small SUVs. Also, I have no idea if you can drive legally in Canada with an American license, but the keys are on the kitchen counter.

You read one from Harrison next. We’re all on set until this evening. Tom rented a car for you. Googled it and your license is valid as long as you have proof of insurance or something.

Your heart leapt a little at the two texts. You were getting royal treatment from these strangers. Tom was paying for your stay, which had all been Harrison’s idea. You flopped back onto the pillows and sighed. This was...crazy.

There was a text from your boyfriend with an address and time of where to meet for lunch the next day. You clung to those words, to the hope that in twenty-four hours you might be moving in with him for the month instead of living here.

And then there were the texts from your mom. With all of the “moving day” business the day before, you had forgotten to tell her that you’d arrived safely. Her texts went from polite to angry. You hurriedly texted back, telling her a half-truth about crashing as soon as you’d gotten back. You replied to your other texts as well. You realized, too, that you had about twenty new follow requests from various fan accounts for Tom. You ignored them all.

You spent the day lounging around, exploring the house and backyard, breathing in the cool Canadian air. You were almost at peace.

The boys got home in a burst of noise and laughter just as you were about to heat up leftover pizza for dinner--which is what you had had for lunch, too. Not that you minded.

You blinked in surprise, still in the same sweats and tshirt from last night. Harry came in first, a camera hanging around his neck.

“--nose for the third time,” he was saying. Tom was shaking his head as he pushed past his brother.

“I did not! I landed it just fine, it was the wind--” Tom argued.

“Mate, you tripped,” Harrison laughed wildly, appearing next. You heard Sam in the next room laughing. You were still standing in the same place, fridge door open, pizza box in hand. They didn’t seem to notice you at the moment.

You quietly shut the fridge and put the pizza box on the counter.

“You’re not eating pizza again, are you Y/N?” Harry asked. “Tom’s taking us out tonight to celebrate not breaking his nose for the third time.”

“It was the wind!” Tom called from upstairs. Laughter echoed in the kitchen.

“No, that’s okay, I’ll eat here. I like pizza,” you said.

“Unacceptable, Y/N,” Harrison said with fake gravity. “If Tom has it in his head to treat us, let him. We use as much money of his as we can.”

“I heard that!” Tom’s voice called, more distant than before. “You parasites!”

“It’s true though!” Harrison shouted back. He turned back to you. “Can you be ready in twenty minutes or so?”

“No problem.” You hurried off to your room to begin digging through your clothes.

You hadn’t hung anything up before falling asleep, but thankfully de-wrinkle spray existed and you had a bottle. You picked your least sexy dress, a gray and white, long-sleeved tshirt dress, and paired it with a pair of short boots. You pulled your hair up, swiped on mascara and eyeliner, and called it good. At the last second you remembered deodorant.

You were back in the living room in ten minutes. Sam was already there, slouched on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up at you and smiled.

“You look nice,” he said politely before promptly going back to his phone.

“Thank you,” you murmured, a bit embarrassed.

“Hey, di--oh, hey, Y/N,” Harrison said as he burst into the room. You were certain he’d been about to call Sam some sort of name, and smiled. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” you said again. Your face grew even hotter than before. You almost said, You, too, because he did look great. He’d changed into a black button up and gray jacket.

Tom was the last one down, his hair freshly damp from a shower, wearing a simple black tshirt and jacket. You thought that he looked good, too, and immediately felt guilty for it.

Tomorrow, you thought, Tomorrow and I’ll be back where I’m supposed to be.

The ride to dinner was a rowdy one. Harry and Harrison gleefully told you a story about how Tom had been showing off for Daisy Ridley--dropping her name so casually you felt faint just thinking about it--and almost broke his nose because he tripped. Tom kept insisting that the wind was strong and knocked him off balance, which only made the other boys laugh harder. Sam was mostly quiet the whole ride, like you were. You got the feeling that he was shy, too.

The restaurant was more casual than you’d been expecting, which turned out to be a good thing. You all seemed to beat the dinner crowd because the place was mostly empty. The twins both told you to order whatever you want. You weren’t sure if they were joking, so you kept it simple. You had money with you too, just in case.

Somehow, you ended up between Sam and Harrison. You ended up being glad, because Sam provided you with a quiet, steady conversational partner that balanced nicely with the rowdiness of the other three.

“They like to put on a show,” Sam said at one point after your food came. Tom was regaling them with a hilarious story about the time he’d tried to pick up a girl using the Spider-Man card, only for her to laugh in his face. “They’re showing off because there’s a girl around.” He grinned. “It’ll calm down in a few days once they get used to you.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty...hyper,” you noted with half a smile. Harrison and Tom were currently arm wrestling instead of eating. You were pretty sure it was part of some complex betting system, but hadn’t worked it out completely.

“They are,” Sam agreed. “But....well, they’re always like this. Just less...this.”

For the most part, you were entertained. Your cheeks and sides hurt from laughing and you were no longer worrying about your lunch date the following day. You thanked Tom profusely for dinner as you all piled back into the car. Somehow you ended up with the passenger seat, which also seemed to be part of the betting system the boys had going on. Tom won the arm wrestling match and forced Harrison to give up his usual seat.

“Want to come to set tomorrow?” Tom asked as he drove. The backseat was suspiciously quiet, broken only by the occasional hushed laugh. You suspected that there may be a video of Tom almost breaking his nose. “Daisy’ll be there, and Nick Jonas, and I could introduce you and--”

You bit your lip. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m meeting B/F/N for lunch.”

The entire car fell quiet.

“B/F/N?” Tom repeated. “As in, your ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah. We’re going to meet and...talk.”

Tom hummed but said nothing else. The others stayed quiet for a while, finally breaking out in hushed whispers again as Tom turned into what you recognized as the neighborhood.

You leaned a little closer to him. “I think they’re up to something,” you said quietly.

“Oh, most definitely,” Tom whispered back with a grin. “They almost always are.”

“Do they gang up on you?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“All the time. I’m an easy target, I think. But I don’t get as embarrassed as Haz or Sam do about stuff.”

He turned into the driveway.

“Thank you, again,” you told him in the moment before he turned off the ignition as the others got out.

“You’re welcome, darling,” he murmured. “But no need to keep thanking me.”

“Sorry. I just--thanks.” You mentally smacked your forehead. “Sorry!”

Tom laughed good-naturedly and led the way inside.

You forgot about your lunch the next day until you climbed into bed. You were no longer sure you wanted things to work out as they should. Part of you--a larger part that you would readily admit--wanted to stick around and get to know these unexpected new friends.

The next morning, you told yourself that it was stupid to dress up so nice for lunch with a guy trying to break up with you, but you were going to do it anyway. Hell, it was stupid of you to go in the first place. But you couldn’t help clingy tightly to the last remnants of hope for your relationship. You wracked your brain for anything you may have done wrong over the past few months. You practiced a speech about devoting yourself to the relationship, about sacrificing everything you were doing to move to Montreal for the next six months.

You bounded down the hall in the morning, makeup and hair perfect, wearing the wine-red dress that B/F/N had always adored. It was probably too fancy for lunch, but you dressed it down with your shoes and a casual jacket. You wanted to make an impression, was all.

You let a surprised shriek upon finding Sam lurking in the kitchen, making himself brunch or a snack or something.

“Sorry!” you exclaimed. “I thought you all had left by now.”

Sam smirked at your reaction. “Nah, Harry and I took  the morning off to edit a project. What’re you all dressed up for?”

“Lunch. With B/F/N. Remember?”

“Ahh. Well...have...fun?” Sam flushed red and promptly disappeared.

You put the restaurant’s address into your GPS and grabbed the keys for the rental car. Thankfully, it was only about twenty to thirty minutes away according to your phone.

You beat B/F/N to the restaurant and waited at the table for at least fifteen minutes. You were used to it, though. He had never been one to be strictly punctual. It didn’t cross your mind at first that he might have stood you up. But as time passed, you grew more anxious. You fiddled with your phone and debated texting Harrison just for something to do.

The bell over the front door dinged. You looked up, and there he was. Your stomach twisted into knots. Your body’s automatic response was to be excited, happy--making you feel like you were finally home. But you were also nervous and afraid.

“Hi,” you managed to croak out when he approached your table. He slid into the seat with barely a glance in your direction. You held yourself back from taking his hand, touching his arm, reaching out to brush his hair from his face.

“Hey,” he said softly. He opened up the menu and frowned at it. You’d had time to pick what you wanted, something else you were used to.

Several minutes passed in silence as he decided what to order and then as you both ordered. You hurriedly told the waiter that your check would be separate.

Finally, he looked up at you. As your eyes met, something pierced your heart. You could tell by his expression that there was no hope, yet you weren’t going to give up.

“So, where are you staying?” he asked eventually.

“Just...with some friends.” You didn’t feel like explaining the situation. It was too complicated, for one, and you didn’t want him telling you how irresponsible you were staying with four boys, either.

“You have friends in Montreal?” he asked, skeptical.

You shrugged. “Where are you staying?”

“Not far from here, actually. I’m set up in that big apartment building a few blocks that way.” He pointed. “It’s nice, I guess. Close to the office.”

Your heart was beginning to hurt. He suddenly seemed so far away from you.  

The food arrived; soup and a sandwich for you, a panini for him. You took a couple bites but found you weren’t hungry.

“Look, B/F/N,” you finally said. “I just...I don’t understand. Why can’t we give it another go? We can make it work. I’ll--I’ll stay here until you can transfer back home. I’ll find a part-time job. Something. Just--please.” You hated that your voice sounded so desperate but couldn’t stop. “Please.”

He very carefully set his sandwich on his plate and wiped his mouth. He was avoiding your gaze again. He took a sip of water, glanced out of the window, and then cleared his throat.

Still looking outside, he said, very quietly, “We can’t give it a try. We gave it a try for months. It--It’s just not going to work.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from crying. “But...why?”

Now he looked sad, truly sad. He looked like he was about to tell you that your grandmother was dying or something.

“Y/N...there’s another girl.”

You rocked back in your chair as if he had physically hit you. Your eyes went wide with shock and disbelief. Another girl? What did that mean? What was he saying? It took you several long minutes to find your voice.

“Another girl?” you repeated dumbly.

“Yeah, I...I don’t know. She works here, too, and we’re both getting transferred to Chicago in six months.” He shrugged.

“Have you--have you been cheating on me?” you demanded in a shrill voice.

He gave you a sharp look and shushed you. “No! No. I wouldn’t--I told her we were going to wait until you and I talked. I wouldn’t do that to you, Y/N, I’m not an asshole.”

You laughed bitterly. “Oh, so just because you haven’t slept with her, you haven’t cheated on me? You are an asshole. You--you waited until last minute before I came here to break up with me. You abandoned me in a foreign city and--” You stood abruptly. You couldn’t sit there any longer. Your chair fell over behind you with a loud clatter. People were staring now, but you didn’t care. “You left me here with no money and nowhere to stay, B/F/N. And you cheated on me.”

The tears were flowing now, but you still managed to glare at him as you gathered the keys and your purse.

“Just--fuck you.” With that, you walked out of the restaurant, shoulders hunched and shaking, face hot and wet with tears.

You turned the corner towards where you’d parked and sank onto a bench. You cried for a long, long time, your chest an empty shell. More than one person stopped to ask if you were okay--one person stopped to tell you to cry somewhere else--but you ignored them all.

An hour later, you wiped your eyes and made yourself get in the car and drive back to the house. You managed to stop yourself from crying for the drive, focusing wholly on not wrecking or getting lost.

Harrison was lounging on the couch when you got back. Harry and Sam were nowhere to be found, either in a different room or gone for the day. You froze, hoping your face didn’t look like you’d been crying for an hour.

He practically leapt to his feet when he heard the front door shut. “Y/N!” he said cheerfully. “How was lunch?”

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on set?”

He hesitated. “No...I mean, yeah. But I came back for lunch and to, ah, see what...you were...up to…” he said slowly.

“Oh. Where are the twins? They were here when I left.”

“Went out for lunch, I suppose.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “How was yours? Lunch, I mean.”

“It was…” You swallowed hard. You tried again. “It was--”

“Not good?” Harrison finished sympathetically.

You nodded, and your face crumpled. You sucked in a shuddering breath and tried to stop the tears. “I’m sorry,” you said around the lump in your throat. “I keep doing this to you.”

“No, no, no, it’s alright, love,” Harrison said gently. He strode over to you and gently touched your arm. “I’m sorry.”

“He--he ch-cheated on me,” you managed to get out. You started crying harder.

Harrison cursed softly. Then he was suddenly pulling you close, wrapping his arms around you, gently stroking your hair. “I’m sorry,” he repeated again.

You didn’t cry for nearly as long this time, and you figured it might have something to do with the cute, kind boy holding you. He smelled vaguely like grass and fresh laundry and boy. You gently disentangled yourself and managed a smile.

“I’m sorry I keep bursting into tears on you like that,” you said sheepishly. “I promise I don’t usually cry all the time.”

Harrison smiled. “It’s okay, I know it’s either because of your break-up...or my ugly face.” He winked.

“You’re not ugly,” you said defensively before you could think about the words. You blushed. So did he.

“Well...thanks,” he mumbled. The tips of his ears were bright red. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Got any plans for the rest of the day?”

“No. I thought I’d stay here and just...relax.”

Harrison studied you for a moment with his piercing blue eyes. Then he nodded. “Alright then. Well, I should be getting back to set. Want to...come tomorrow?”

You gave him a genuine smile. “I’d like that. Very much.”

He grinned back at you.

The boys all got back relatively late that night. You’d eaten pizza again and fallen asleep on the couch with a book on your chest.

“--was so cool, I didn’t really know how to react,” one of them was exclaiming. You woke with a start. You managed to catch your book before it hit the floor. Another of the boys cracked a joke and they all laughed.

“Shit, shh shh!” one of them said. It sounded like Tom. “She’s sleeping! Shh!”

They quieted down. They were like children, though, and their “quiet” wasn’t really very quiet. The noise moved into the kitchen where something was dropped. There were muffled curses and laughter.

A smile grew on your face.

You got up quietly and padded down the hall to your room. You didn’t make it far before you bumped into someone. Harrison.

“Sorry,” you both said at the same time.

“Off to bed already?” he asked.

“Mm, yeah. Long day. Plus it’s already--” You checked the time on your phone. “--almost eleven.”

“Are you still...coming to set tomorrow?” You thought that his expression was hopeful but told yourself you were reading too much into it.

“Of course! I can’t pass up the chance to meet a Jonas brother. And Rey.” Your face went blank for a second just thinking about the big stars. “Oh my god--maybe I shouldn’t go. I’ll just embarrass myself.”

“Oh, come on, darling,” Tom’s voice said from behind you. “You’ve already met Spider-Man and haven’t embarrassed yourself.”

You grinned a bit mischievously. “No offense, Tom...but you aren’t as famous as Nick Jonas or Daisy Ridley.”

A chorus of Ooh!s and Oh shit!s came from Tom’s two brothers and best friend. They all cracked up. Tom held up his hands in surrender.

“Ouch, Y/N,” he said. He placed a hand on his heart like you had stabbed him in the chest.

“Here,” Sam said with a laugh as he passed a couple of ice cubes to Tom. “For the burn.”

That set them all off again. “Tom, you just aren’t that famous,” Harry kept repeating, doubled over with laughter. Harrison said, “Sorry, mate,” more than once through his laughter. Tom kept pretending to be wounded, but he was laughing just as hard. You couldn’t help but laugh along until your sides hurt.

Things finally settled down and you bid them all goodnight. As the other three disappeared in various directions, Harrison grabbed your wrist in his hand.

He stared into your eyes for a long moment. You had never seen eyes in such a pale shade of blue before. You thought he was going to say something, like he was sorry about B/F/N or something else, but all he said was a soft, “Goodnight, Y/N,” before he let you go.

You watched him go. “Goodnight, Harrison.”

Tag-list

@beardedsteveslut  @smilesfromabove @fandomscombine @yoinkspiderling @twentychemicalpanics @marveltomjunkie @chasingsuperheroes @fairydustparker @theharrisontomytom @moonofmy-life @spidey-spooked  @mendes-holland @fat-ass-children @chinalois @lovestrucktosaturn @johnmurphys-sass @txm-h0lland @xkaciesearlex @tessa-herondale-carstairs1 @onceuponateenpanwolfian @bucky-fucking-ruined-me @heartoftheadventure @agirlwithpointlessideas @rhemagirl29 @peterparkyourassonme @secret-jester @smileylaurens @bookworm1613 @perks-of-being-a-labyrinth​ @curiouspeterparker  @aelin-firehearts-court @theres-no-paradise​  @stressedoutkylo @cubedtriangle @1022bridgetp @meg-915​ @butterfliesslugswormsandothershi​ @once-upon-a-walking-wolf-demigod @onceuponanigh1​

[comicsatlasrp-blog]

Welcome to Comics Atlas, Em  !!  Your application for Jane Foster / Thor with the faceclaim of Emmy Rossum has been accepted !!  Honestly I’d have a lot of nice things to say about the amazingness of your interpretation... but I’m still screaming about it !!  Please send in your account within 48 hours. Don’t forget to:

Make sure your ask and submit are open. Follow everyone on the follow list. Track the necessary tags. Make sure your character’s bio is easily accessible on their page. Read this information on secret identities. And don’t forget that we ask that your pages are readable, with a minimum of 11px font.

Name / Timezone / Pronouns: Em / EST / She/her.

You’re free to begin RP-ing as soon as the other apps are accepted and the follows posted !! 

Note from the player: Yeah. Jane is bald. You know. Because the cancer. But finding a bald face claim for Jane while still respecting that MCU cast a Ashkenazi Jewish actress (Jane has no reference to ancestry in comics that I could find) kinda hard. So while I’m using Rossum we’re all going to ignore the fact that she has hair. Cool? Cool. Nothing against Natalie Portman. I tried to incorporate enough MCU elements that it could be sort of complaint but I decided that a different face claim might make it more evident to others that Jane was mostly comic based. Think Thor God of Thunder (2014) onwards.

trigger warnings for: explicit talk of cancer.

Notes continued: I stopped short the last few issues of The Mighty Thor, about #18~19 on (Which someone who reads might of noticed as Jane hasn’t picked Roz as her replacement in the Senate yet. FU Cul. I have my reasons, I swear. Mainly, I wanted Jane to still know a reason to return to being Jane Foster.) because that arc isn’t over and (spoiler alert) Jane is about five minutes away from dying, sorta. Comics. There are some other unresolved issues as well. IF ANYONE WANTS TO TALK TO ME ABOUT THAT I AM GAME. SO GAME. OMG ALL THE THINGS THAT HAVE HAPPENED IN THE PAST FEW ISSUES.TL;DR: Jane is mostly comic based. Jane is also is bald due to her cancer treatment. She wears scarfs. The gifs are lies, LIES.  Comics based being said, I’m open to talking with others to help make her more MCU compliant if needed. I kinda… failed on that in the bio, just a bit. Warning: Angst is my bread and butter.

Sample begins:

It was day three.

Day three since she had received her last chemo infusion. The ice had run its course, freezing her like she had been struck down by an ice giant of Jotunheim. The fire had raged through her, it had evacuated from her mouth, burned itself out in her piss. Jane hugged the basin closer to her chest, curling around the plastic tub as if it was a child she had to protect.

But no, that had been last week. When she, or rather Thor had been helping the light elf refugees escape from another wave of Malekith’s goons.

A soft groan escaped from dry lips as Jane’s stomach heaved again, dry, this time. Small mercies. It had been a long time since Jane had made it this far. A long time since the poison eating through her veins was allowed to have a chance at its assassination. It raged through her, trying to kill part of her own body before those damned rebellious cells had the chance to kill her completely. She felt bloated, misshapen. Her hands didn’t grip the basin only because she could barely feel them.    

She wished for sleep. There, curled up in her bed in her dark midtown Manhattan apartment. Part of her wished for the pompous revelry of  Asgardians, the sound that always leaked into her rooms when she was staying in Asgardia. But no, Volstagg assured her that if the Congress went into session he would get her. He didn’t seem to think it was wise to have her travel by the rainbow bridge while puking. He wasn’t wrong, but Jane still missed the drunken cheers, it reminded her of before.

Nights, mornings, spent in Thor’s chambers. Waking up to the sounds of the Warriors Three still partying for something that they had accomplished a fortnight before. Waking up to Thor staring at Mjolnir like he was afraid he’d not be able to lift it from its slab. They’d had many conversations about it. She’d… something.

What had she been thinking about?

Her tongue ran over chapped lips, like sandpaper over uneven caulk. The muscle felt unruly in her mouth. Water. Yes, that had to have been it. She had been going to get water. If only her father could have been here to bring it to her like she had done for her mother. He was…

No. He was dead. Jane shook her head lightly, ignoring the dizziness it brought. Jane knew that. She fought through the haze. It had been a long time since she had managed to get to the point where her mind started to wander. A dry rasp of a laugh shook her frail frame, sounding more like a cough than any expression of mirth. Of all things for her to be grateful for.

How far had the poison, her medicine, the chemicals she was using to save her life; how far had they managed to work. Could she remember? Names. Did she remember? Well, there was Volstagg. That was one against the chemo brain. Sif, Sif, her fellow conspirator. Who… who. She had called Thor, no Odinson, a vegetable.

Thor.

They still hadn’t heard from him. Odinson. It was horrible to call him that, it sounded like a curse, like a–

Jane’s stomach heaved again and this time bile burned as it scored up the sides of her esophagus. It bit as it irritated the sores in her mouth. She gagged into the basin. Well, she mused as the last of the acid dribbled from her lips, that did about sum up her opinion on him only calling himself the ‘son of Odin.’  

She wanted to look for him. There were rumors still spinning around Asgardia. He was dead. She wouldn’t believe it. Couldn’t.

There was a familiar thrum in the back of her head and Jane looked up from her basin through moist, sunken eyes. Mjolnir was there, floating in her bedroom as if it had been called. Had she…?  

No.

Her elbow was already on the bed, Jane just had to… She unwrapped one of her arms from around the basin. She focused, eyes narrowing as she made sure her numb hand was securely planted on the sheet. If there was trouble she had no time for this bedridden internal civil war. Slowly, ever so slowly – too slowly, Jane pushed her upper body up on shaky limbs. “Is there…?” Jane’s question petered out as she received the negative. She lowered herself back down to the bed, ignoring the disappointment. The reckless, stupid, disappointment. She could really do with punching something right now. Getting stabbed as Thor was easier than fighting cancer.

Jane gingerly pushed the basin over the far side of the bed as she rolled onto her back. She’d get up in a few minutes and empty out again. She focused on her breathing for a few moments, the subtle hum of Mjolnir in her ears. She tilted her head toward it as it came to rest gingerly on her night stand. For once it wasn’t chiding her for taking too long or warning her of trouble in the realms. No, it felt…worried.

“Is it me you are worried about or is it your old bearer?” She asked it. Jane resisted the urge to brush her hand against the smooth uru. She was fighting a fight only Jane Foster could undertake now. She couldn’t escape into the empowered durability of Thor. She couldn’t run away from this fight, not when Thor wasn’t needed at that second. Not when there was no troll to punch. Not when Loki was still hidden away with his father. Not when she had no friend to take to see the whales one last time. Not when she had to stop it from raining at that friend’s funeral. No excuse. Jane Foster had her own duties too. She had to give her chemo a chance. Jane’s hand twitched as it curled into a fist

“I’m worried about him too.”

She wondered what her doctors would say if she told them most of her conversations these days where with a mythical hammer that held within it the ancient mother storm. They’d probably just blame her chemo brain. Some days Jane wondered if she would walk up to find out everything was a chemically induced fever dream.

She felt a chiding sort of irritation call out to her through the bond.

“I don’t know, Mjolnir. You did appear to me, as me. I think even the most open minded Asgardians would question the grip I have on reality.”

The answering humm bubbled in the back of Jane’s mind. It was different than the shock of the Mother Storm talking to her in her own voice but no harder to understand. Mjolnir’s words resounded in her entire being.

“–Yes I know they already do that, you silly hammer. That wasn’t my point.” Her bloated form was starting to sink into the mattress. Fatigue pulled at her limbs like two-ton weights and her vision blurred. But her mind was quiet for once. The haze was still an enveloping cloud pressing in on her thoughts but the thunder was being held at bay. Eye of the storm.

“Maybe we’ll find out something about him tomorrow,” she mumbled, heavy eyelids falling shut. Or maybe she’d finally get the chance to re-introduce Mjolnir to Malekith’s jaw in repayment for what he had done to Queen Aelsa.

A note of glee echoed distantly through the cloud.

Jane Foster finally feel asleep, an answering grin faint on her lips.  

[gorgeousdan]

notdanhowell

summary: Dan has a guilty pleasure: phan blogs. It’s a mixture of conceited arrogance and morbid curiosity, really. And really, it’s a mixture of these two things that lead to him catfishing members of his phandom and becoming a headcanon blog. After all, what harm can one headcanon do? word count: 2,134/20,000 warnings (this chapter): recreational drinking, kissing, light fantasy

LAST CHAPTER |  NEXT CHAPTER

A couple of weeks pass where nothing noteworthy happens. Dan doesn’t have a big metal breakdown, comes to accept that his life now involves writing headcanons about himself and his best friend. They’re all platonic, domestic things, though, and nothing that their viewers couldn’t work out by watching enough of their videos. So it’s innocent.

Still, Dan tries his hardest to make sure Phil doesn’t find out.

So nothing really noteworthy happens for a couple of weeks. They’re at a YouTube party, and everyone has abandoned their cameras in favor of drinks from the bar. Dan lost Phil some time ago into the crowd. He’s drunk, he’s sure everyone is. He’s sitting at the bar with a drink that’s probably a bad idea in his hands when he spots Phil. He’s lost in the crowd, grinding to some kind of song with Tyler. Dan can tell his best friend’s having fun, but Tyler can get a little sexual while drunk so he figures it’s his best friend duty to save Phil.

Dan takes two drinks from the bar and makes his way through the bar. “Mind if I steal Phil from you?” he shouts to Tyler over the music.

Tyler smiles. “Go ahead!” he shouts back before disappearing into the crowd. Dan turns his attention back to Phil and holds up a drink. “Shot!” he yells over the music. Phil takes it and clinks his glass against Dan’s. The two of them tip the hard liquor down their throats. It stings, but it’s welcome.

“Are you having a nice time?” Phil shouts. He catches a hand around Dan’s waist so that they can bounce to the music together. It’s a little less than a thumping noise in their ears, but it’s good. The atmosphere is good, the party is good, Dan feels good.

Dan chuckles because he’s a little bit drunk. “Actually, yes,” he shouts back. “I’m not going antisocial, for once.”

Phil’s face is flushed red and Dan can tell that he’s more than a little drunk when he gives Dan a full smile back and yells, “actually, it’s asocial.” He pauses. “Because antisocial would be,” he hiccups. “Something different.”

“Mh,” Dan laughs. “Very smart of you, Phil Lester.”

The two of them don’t say anything for a while, just dance with each other until Louise puts a hand on Dan’s shoulder and yells to Phil, “Mind if I steal him?” Dan’s fairly certain Phil would agree to anything in this state so he just nods with a loopy smile.

Louise pulls Dan away, wraps an arm loosely over his shoulders. “So,” she says, and her smile is cocky but Dan’s a bit too drunk to figure out why yet. “Are you two dating yet?”

Dan throws her a lopsided grin. “Us two who?” he asks.

Louise tilts her head in Phil’s direction. Dan’s best friend is currently in the midst of a social circle that would give Dan anxiety but in which Phil prospers. “You and Phil,” Louise fills in.

Dan feels his heart get caught in his throat. “Me and Phil?” he stutters. Louise raises an eyebrow at him. “No, we’re just friends,” he’s quick to correct. He forces a laugh that sounds fake even to him. “God, you’re worse than even the shippers.”

Louise looks like she’s going to say something, but then there are fingers on his shoulders as Phil forces him back. “Payback!” he yells over the music as he tips a shot down Dan’s throat. Dan’s blood feels warmed as Phil mutters, “mwahahaha,” into his ear, but he’s not sure it’s the alcohol.

-

At three in the morning Dan finds himself going through notdanhowell’s ask box again. He can’t sleep, he’s too buzzed off of the alcohol, and though it’s mainly worn off by now, it’s still buzzing pleasantly through his veins. Phil had fallen asleep almost as soon as they’d gotten to their flat a little over two hours ago, so it’s just him.

His blog has a fair amount of headcanon requests. Usually, if he decides to write one, he goes right for the most platonic and domestic prompt he can find. However, he can’t help but let his eyes catch on one that stands out in his ask box.

justcallmegracie said:

Could I have a headcanon about how Dan and Phil kiss? I really like your writing! :)

The smiley face stares back at him as if it’s an enemy. Usually, he would scroll right past this prompt. Writing fanfiction about his best friend was one thing, but writing fanfiction about the two of them kissing was a line that he wasn’t sure he was willing to cross just yet. But he’s buzzed and his brain goes without his permission.

Phil has a bit of a chapstick addiction, Dan bets his lips would be so soft. He thinks Phil would probably kiss gently, probably do something sappy like grab Dan’s face or put his hands around his waist, pull him in gently. Dan thinks kissing Phil would be dizzying, probably addicting. And then he pauses because he’s considering kissing his best friend. He’s considering enjoying it.

Dan shuts his laptop so quickly that he’s almost afraid that the crash of his computer lid can be heard the next room over. His heart is pounding in his chest, he can feel his pulse in his throat. Did he actually just do that? He feels like he might pass out. What kind of person was he becoming?

One that considers kissing his best friend for Internet-based speculative fanfiction, apparently.

Dan very slowly reopens his laptop. The damned smile face is still smiling back at him, along with the stupid headcanon prompt.

He really shouldn’t.

notdanhowell said:

dan kisses hard and fast, like he’ll never get another chance to again. he pulls the other person in, wraps his arms around their neck, let their hands run down their chest and under their shirts. he’s a very sexual kisser, but like what would you expect from him, let’s be real.

phil, on the other hand, would be a very slow and soft kisser. he’s a nerd so he’d probably want to let it grow organically, want it to be romantic. when dan gets him going, though, he’s all whimpers and needy kissers and soft mutters of “more.” kissing phil is dizzying, intoxicating, it’s-

Something Dan wants to do at that moment. He gasps at the realization, quickly backspaces and then presses post. He worries his lip between his teeth and when he realizes he’s imagining it’s Phil he reckons he’s more than a little drunk.

He closes his laptop and when he lays down, he almost immediately falls asleep.

-

They’re kissing.

Dan’s not entirely sure how they got here, but Phil’s got Dan’s shirt balled up in his fist and he’s got his other around Dan’s neck. Dan’s got both hands on Phil’s hips, has pulled his flatmate in as close as they can get. It’s good and addictive and Dan doesn’t think he’s ever been more addicted to anything ever.

Dan pulls away from the kiss when he realizes he absolutely cannot breathe, and then Phil’s lips are attached to his neck. Dan feels dizzy. Everything feels so intense. He presses his fingers a little harder into Phil’s hips like he can’t possibly believe that he’s real, that he’s here.

And then Phil speaks. “Is that good, baby boy?” he says, and, god, the intonation of his voice and it’s so deep and it goes right to places that Dan needs to focus on grandma not to think about. “Wouldn’t it feel better if you were awake?”

Dan pauses. “Huh?” he asks, because that’s the most logical thing he can think of.

Phil gives him a dangerous smirk. “Wake up, Dan.”

“Dan!”

Dan jolts awake, sits up with a sharp gasp. Phil’s standing next to him, for some reason fully dressed and looking rather exasperated. “Oh my god, you are such a heavy sleeper.” He grabs Dan’s sheets from under him. “You slept through your alarm, we’re late for a meeting.”

“Shit!” Dan swears. And then, for good measure, “shit, shit shit.”

He doesn’t have time to dwell on his dream as he gets dressed more quickly than he’s sure is humanly possible. Dan’s ready to go within two minutes flat and they’re out of the door and into a taxi in five.

Once they’re in the taxi, Phil looks over at Dan. “Oh my god,” he says. “That was more stressful than trying to get you to the airport, bloody hell.”

Phil takes a deep breath and Dan’s fairly sure his best friend’s going to have an aneurysm. Dan scoffs. “Please, I knew what I was doing.” He grabs his phone from his back pocket and refreshes his Twitter notifications. He doesn’t see the name of the first person, but he can see they’ve linked him to a fanfiction they’ve written. The comment under, though, is what catches his eye.

Arijana @yellowtrash_

lmao don’t link dan to fanfics that’s highkey inappropriate

Dan snorts a laugh at that one. Jesus, if only Arijana knew what kind of hole he’s dug himself into. Phil gives him a weird look, but Dan thinks he’s still probably too stressed to ask Dan about it.

They get to their meeting and thankfully no one’s that pissed off at them. Phil’s brother gives them a kind of pissed off look and Dan’s pretty sure that they’ll be getting a firm talking to from Martyn about being timely for things, but he’s not all that serious, anyway. It’s one of the reason they had hired him in the first place.

Phil empties out his nerdy backpack and hands Dan a notepad and a pen. The meeting isn’t anything too important, just technical stuff. When they had first hired people to build their brand, they had made it very clear that they wanted to come to every meeting, even if they weren’t expressly needed. This is one of those times.

Dan starts doodling on his paper, half involved in talks about financial spending and audience interaction and the monetization of their videos. The other half of his brain trails off into thoughts, falls back into his dream.

That hadn’t been the first time he’d had a sex dream, of course, he too had once been a teenage boy. However, it was the first time he’d had any type of dream about Phil that was anything other than strictly platonic. And, he kind of hated himself for it, but it was kind of nice? He could imagine kissing Phil, actively wanted to feel his best friend’s lips on his own.

“Dan,” Phil says, breaks Dan out of his thoughts. Dan looks around the meeting and realizes that everyone’s staring at him and, oops, that’s vaguely embarrassing. “Marisa wanted to know how you felt about that?”

“Erm,” Dan glances between the people in the meeting, who look more perplexed than anything, and Phil, who looks a mixture of genuinely concerned and annoyed. “I think that’s good, yeah.”

Dan takes a sigh of relief as everyone goes back to discussing whatever they had been talking about previous. He manages a sneaky glance at Phil and the realization hits him like a ton of bricks.

He has a crush on his best friend.

-

They’re on the tube later when Phil looks over at Dan. “Right,” he says, and his voice is low enough that no one else can hear it, but loud enough to be audible over the sounds of the city. “What’s been up with you, lately?”

Dan knows exactly what he means, but somehow he feels like playing stupid will be beneficial so he asks, “what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Phil replies. Damn their best friend psychic link. He sighs, and his voice drops as he leans in closer to Dan. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it,” he starts, and then he glances around. Dan guesses he’s probably watching for fangirls that tend to get pictures when they stand too close together, “that’s fine. But you don’t have to get lost in your head. And-” he pauses, probably is looking for the right way to word this, “-and I don’t want you to do anything that will hurt yourself. You’re my best friend, Dan.”

Dan’s lips twitch in a soft smile and he nods. “I know,” he says. “It’s nothing bad, it’s,” and for a half-second, he considers telling Phil. He tells his best friend everything, after all. But then he doesn’t. “I’ll tell you one day, okay?”

Phil sighs. “Alright,” he says. He stands back up and digs in his pocket for his phone.

They don’t talk the rest of the way home.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

sup mates.

i had the busiest week ever and fell super behind on my nano project but i’m back and it’s spring break and i intend to bang out a few thousand words to finally fucking catch up.

this chapter features @justcallmegracie and a twitter user called Arijana! thank you for your sacrifice for some dan angst.

if you’d like to be involved in notdanhowell, click here. PLS DO ESPECIALLY IF YOU WRITE SMUT AND WOULD BE WILLING TO HAVE ME QUOTE YOUR SMUT!

Reblog to spread the word about my blog, thank you!

-seb

[motherlifesucher-archives]

Prefects | Shawn Mendes Imagine

(a/n): I had been craving to write Hogwarts Shawn so thank you for requesting :). I hope you enjoy it <3. PART 2.

prompt: Shawn and (y/n) are Gryffindor’s Prefects.

It wasn’t a surprise for anyone that you were chosen by the headmistress to be one of Gryffindor’s Prefects.

But it was impossible to say that half the school wasn’t surprised when Shawn Mendes, probably the best Keeper Gryffindor had seen since Ron Weasley left the school, had been appointed as the new fifth year prefect.

Shawn himself had been surprised when he received a letter signed by Minerva McGonagall announcing the news to him. Even his sister, who was also a Gryffindor, had laughed on his face while telling him it was probably a joke.

You were on the top of your class, professors loved you, and you didn’t have trouble with anyone. On the other hand, Shawn’s grades weren’t the best, professors were often telling him to pay attention, and it wasn’t unusual to catch him exchanging a few words with Quidditch players from other Houses, mostly Slytherins who knew he was an easy target, especially before games.

The first day of September arrived sooner than expected, and while you arrived to the Platform wearing your Prefect badge with pride, Shawn had to bear with his friends ruffling his hair while telling him it was probably a joke, but when you approached him before entering the train, he tried his best to wiggle out of his friends’ embrace, and when they let go of him, he gripped his broom tightly on his hand.

“Hi,” you smiled at him shyly. “I’m (y/n)” you stretched your hand.

“I-I know,” he stuttered before correcting himself. “Sorry, I’m Shawn.” he gently shook your hand.

“I know,” you smiled at him. “Just wanted to remind you that we’ll have the first patrol on the train, and that we’ll be meeting with the Head Boy and Girl on the prefect’s carriage.” Merlin’s beard, he had totally forgotten that.

“Sure, yeah. I’ll see you there.” he said not looking very sure of himself.

“Okay then.” you gave him a smile before walking towards your friends who were waiting for you.

-

The only thing thing Shawn wanted to do after the Welcoming Feast was over was to go to the dormitory, take off his robes and fall asleep, but he was reminded that it was his duty to guide Gryffindor’s first years to the Common Room. He groaned internally, but he soon found his mind directing to the form beside him.

“Long day, huh?.” you smiled at him before turning around to the group of eager kids. “Hello, my name is (y/n) (y/l/n) and I’m one of Gryffindor’s Prefects with Shawn here.” you greeted the kids who were still taking in the surroundings of the Great Hall.

“Well, we are now going to Gryffindor’s Common Room. Please try to remember or you’ll get lost, and I’m telling you because it happened to me,” he said smiling, making the first years giggle, and some of the girls blush. “The stairs are constantly changing, and it’ll probably happen to you, but as long as you know how to go back to Gryffindor’s Tower, you’ll be okay.”

“Everything you need is in your trunks. The Head of our House will give you your class schedules tomorrow at breakfast, so make sure you’re on time,” you said as you started heading the new students along the corridors. “Quick advice, leave your dormitories at least fifteen minutes before your class starts, or you’ll get lost.”

“Try to not forget the passwords, because there’s no way the Fat Lady will let you in without the password. Keep an eye on the bulletin board, since there’s where the new passwords will be posted.” Shawn added just when you reached the entry to the Common Room. “Fortuna Major” he said on a loud voice.

“There’s the best Keeper Hogwarts has seen! Wait, are you Prefect now…?” The Fat Lady started rambling.

“Fortuna Major.” you repeated the password. The Fat Lady rolled her eyes before revealing the entrance.

“Yeah, make sure you say the password loud and strong, or she’ll start talking or singing.” Shawn chuckled and winked to the first years, making the girls blush and giggle, and you roll your eyes with a smile on your face.

“Well. Girls will follow me, and boys will follow Shawn. Don’t hesitate to ask for help, we’ll be around for whatever you need, okay?” you said locking your gaze with Shawn’s. “Good night, see you tomorrow.”

“Good night.” he said to you before directing the boys to the stairs.

-

Shawn woke up almost an hour before he had to get out of bed, and he knew why his brain had decided to put an end to his sleep. His sleepy form made its way to the bathroom, the water bringing him to his senses. He rubbed his eyes one last time before adjusting his robes and leaving the Common Room. He avoided Peeves who was lurking around the empty halls before he arrived the Headmistress Office. One of the perks of being a Prefect is that he had been handed the office’s password, so he didn’t have trouble getting inside. He knocked softly and after a few seconds the door opened, revealing the one and only Minerva McGonagall.

“Mister Mendes? What are you doing here so early?” she asked him surprised.

“Morning, Headmistress. I-I wanted to talk to you for a second.” He said and she opened the door.

“Come on in,” she guided him to her desk. Shawn let himself admire the office in awe before taking his seat. “What can I help you with, Mr. Mendes?”

“Well, uhm… I had been asking myself if you were sure about appointing me as Gryffindor’s Prefect?” he said and Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow. “Wait, don’t get me wrong! I’m honored, but I just don’t understand why me, there’s nothing special about me.”

“Are you doubting my judgement, Mr. Mendes?” she asked Shawn, and he shook his head in denial.

“No, of course not, Professor. But look at (y/n), she’s the brightest witch our age, she’s kind to everyone… and I’m just me, I’m not bright and all that stuff.” he finished his speech and found professor McGonagall smiling at him.

“You and Miss (y/l/n) remind me of two people I met a few years ago…” she took a deep breath. “You two may be different, but you both wear Gryffindor’s colors with pride, and that’s more than enough for me.” she said and Shawn unconsciously directing his eyes to the lion resting on his chest. “I hope you still have time to practice, Quidditch tryouts are in two more weeks, and you are our best shot on winning the cup.”

Shawn seemed taken aback, he never thought the Headmistress thought so highly of him. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Now go, I’m sure a few first years will be looking for you.” She told him.

Shawn carefully left the office and let out a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

Looks like he had a busy year ahead.

Two Weeks Later.

You had your face buried on a Potions book as you tried to understand why your potion had failed earlier. You didn’t notice when someone took the seat next to you. The person cleared their throat, and only then you lifted your gaze to find Shawn.

“Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt you but I have to talk to you about tonight’s patrol.”

“Sure, what’s up?” You said closing your book and smiling at the boy in front of you.

“Quidditch trials are today’s afternoon, and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it, and I was thinking if maybe we could switch with whoever has the last patrol of the day? If you’re okay with it, of course.”

“I didn’t know the best player on the team had to undergo tryouts.” You said but it didn’t take long for you to realize your words, but it was too late since Shawn had a smirk decorating his face.

“You think I’m the best player?” he said on a flirty tone, clearly enjoying the way your cheeks flushed

you shrugged, trying to make it look like it wasn’t a big deal. “That’s what people say,” you said but Shawn still had the smirk. “I’ll talk to the Hufflepuff’s prefects, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“Thank you.” he said before getting up from his seat.

You wanted to bang your head against the table as you realized what you had said to him. You didn’t want him to think you had a crush on him like half the school did. You sighed and tried to go back to your potions book, but your mind was on a certain boy.

-

You were about to start the last patrol and Shawn hadn’t shown up yet, and just when you decided to start without him, you heard loud steps coming your way.

“Sorry, I’m late,” he said sounding out of breath, his robes looked a bit messy and his hair was wet. “It took a bit longer than expected.”

“It’s okay… How did it go?” you asked him while you tried not to look at him.

“It went well… We’re going to have one hell of a team this year, the Cup has our name on it, and I meant it.” he said excitedly and you couldn’t help it but laugh at his words. “What, you don’t believe me?” he asked you arching an eyebrow. “Didn’t you tell me that I was the best player on the entire school?”

“I didn’t say that.” you argued, making Shawn laugh loudly.

“Yes, you did!” he said on a teasing tone.

“I said you were the best player on the team, not on the entire school!” you said hitting his shoulder softly.

“Oh, so who’s a better player than me?”

“I don’t know, I’m not a big Quidditch fan.”

“Then how do you know I’m the best player on the team?” he said wiggling his eyebrows.

“First of all, you are annoying,” you said smiling. “And people talk about you, in case you hadn’t noticed, and of course I keep up with Gryffindor’s team, what kind of student would I be if I didn’t?”

“Then I expect to see you cheering for me on the stands.” 

“I will be cheering for our House, not for you.” you giggled, earning a few glares from the portraits.

“You say that now.” he said and you kept walking.

-

Shawn had to admit he found himself waiting for night patrols.

On the last months, he had found himself enjoying your presence way more than he expected. He didn’t want to admit he was starting to like you in a different way. He loved the way you listened carefully about his day, or the way you took your time to explain something he hadn’t understood on class. 

Right now, you were laughing at a story he was telling you about how he had almost killed his owl minutes after buying her while choosing his wand at Ollivanders, but he reassured you it had made them bond.

“What are your stories?” Shawn asked you as you kept an eye on the empty corridors.

“Not much, I threw up once after eating an entire box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans myself… I’m not a big fan after that.” you told him and he let out a loud laugh. “What? Come on, you almost killed your own owl!” you said copying his actions.

“You are weak if you couldn’t handle a box of Bertie Bott’s!” He said and it looked like he wasn’t going to stop laughing.

“Oh, shut up.” You mumbled but the hint of laughter was clear on your voice.

Shawn slowed down his pace a bit and scratched the back of his neck. “Hey, (y/n)…” he was going to continue but noticed you had stopped walking.

“I’m sorry, but it’s your turn.” you whispered as you pointed to a couple that was making out on a dark corner.

“Last time was my turn, it’s your turn now” Shawn said on a playful tone.

You pouted and gave him your best puppy eyes. “Please, just for this time.”

Shawn sighed. “Fine, but you owe me.” he said and you gave him a bright smile.

Shawn walked to the couple and cleared his throat. You had to suppress your giggles as the Ravenclaw boy and Hufflepuff girl couldn’t look at him in the eye. Their lips looked red and swollen as Shawn reprimanded them and told them he would tell their respective Houses’ prefects so they could take appropriate measures. The couple said goodbye to each other and walked in different directions. Shawn turned around and gave you one of his killer smiles.

“I need your help with the Potions paper.” 

“Are you asking me or…?” you said on a teasing tone.

“You owe me, remember?” he said and you laughed.

“When are you free?” you asked him.

“Tomorrow after breakfast? I have a free period.” Shawn suggested.

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Nothing else appeared on your way until you found yourselves in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. You walked inside the Common Room, but neither of you seemed to want to go to your dormitories.

“Good night, Shawn. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, (y/n).”

“Don’t forget your Potions book!” you reminded him just when you were about to go to the stairs.

“Don’t worry about it. Sleep tight.”

And just like that you weren’t facing each other anymore, but the smiles on your faces wouldn’t be easy to erase.

-

Shawn had barely touched his pumpkin juice since one of his friends had mentioned it was Hogsmeade weekend.

He had been planning to ask you but he didn’t know how. He didn’t know where you stood. Maybe he was misreading the signs and you weren’t interested on him at all, but he did know you were constantly on his mind, and it was starting to become annoying. 

“Shawn, you okay?” one of his friends asked him from across the table.

“Uh? Yeah, sure.” Shawn responded, earning chuckles from his friends.

“You don’t even know what we were talking about!”

“I did, I just didn’t know what to say…” he tried to excuse himself.

“Really? You didn’t know what to say when we were talking about how your precious (y/n) has been eyeing you the entire time.” Other friend said and Shawn immediately straightened his back and his eyes widened.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

“You’re so gullible.” His friends laughed.

“Ha-ha, so funny.” Shawn said but soon noticed his friends eyes widen.

“Hey Shawn.” he heard your melodic voice over his shoulder. He quickly turned around.

“(y/n), hey,” Shawn said while he got up from his seat. “Did you sleep well?”

Your cheeks tinted pink. “I did. How did you sleep?”

“Very good.” he said and he could feel people staring, since someone had started the rumor that there was something going on between the two of you, but the only thing he could focus on was on your flushed cheeks and glowing eyes. 

“Are you ready for Potions?” you asked him cheerfully.

“Yes, but not as enthusiastic as you are about it.” He chuckled and you hit his chest softly.

“Let’s go.” you grabbed his hand and he could feel his cheek burning while butterflies filled his stomach, and his friends all were giving him cheeky looks.

“Aren’t we going to the library?”

“Nah, I know a better place.” You winked and he looked down with a shy smile on his face.

You didn’t let go of his hand while you guided him through the outsides of the castle. The day was cold even though you could see some sun rays peaking through the clouds. When you reached the side of the Black Lake you stopped walking, and unwillingly let go of his warm hand.

“This view is amazing.” Shawn said as he sat on the grass, leaving his bag on the floor.

“I know, right? I come here all the time.”

“Then I guess I’ll know where to find you.” he said happily.

“I guess so,” you smiled at him. “Anyway, let’s get started.”

The minutes went by just as night patrolling did. It was like neither of you could stop smiling while you were next to each other, maybe you weren’t even speaking, but knowing you were next to him, and knowing you could just stretch your arm and touch him was enough to plaster a smile on your faces.

“So, that’s the difference between a Calming Draught, and a Draught of Peace. We can go over how to brew them properly, if you want to…”

Shawn couldn’t tear his eyes off you, and he didn’t seem to control his words. “Go to Hogsmeade with me.”

“Sorry?”

“Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend.” Shawn said a bit more confidently this time.

“What? I mean… Are you sure?” you said not really knowing what to answer.

“Of course I am sure…” He stopped talking and it seemed like he was doubting if he should continue talking. “I like you, (y/n). A lot. And I think you like me too.”

Your eyes widened before you recomposed yourself. “You are pretty confident, aren’t you?”

“I like to take my chances.” he shrugged, but he could feel his insides turning with anticipation.

“In that case… Does three work for you?” You asked him but he didn’t seem to catch up. “Hogsmeade?”

“Oh, so that’s a yes?” He said with his cheeky grin back to his face.

“Looks like it.” you said getting up.

“Does that mean that you like me, too?”

You smiled and left a kiss on his cheek. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

And with that you grabbed your things and walked away, dedicating him one last glance while butterflies erupted inside your belly.

[confusedweasleys]

Feel Alright - Fred Weasley x Reader

A/N: Hi lovies. It’s me, back at it again at crackhead hours. Term started up again, so my posts might be coming a little less frequently for a little bit but I’ll try to write tons! This is also my first imagine based on a song, so fun times. I made a happy ending even though it’s sort of a sad song because I’m a sucker. As always messages open and feedback welcome! Xoxo

Request: @slither-in-a-half Hello love, could you please do a Fred Weasley x reader based on the song Chateau by djo?

Triggers: Cursing, Drinking

Word Count: 1,336

——————————————————————————————————— 

   It’s cold outside but I don’t care. I let my tears slip off my cheeks and onto my legs. They hang off the balcony of the Astronomy Tower. I don’t know how to describe how I feel. I feel like somethings wrong with me. I feel almost...homesick. Homesick for a person. I let myself think about him, even though I know I’ll feel worse when I’m done. I’ll just miss him more when I return to reality. But the memories dull the pain. At least for a little while. I close my eyes and flash back to the summer when we first met.

    “Lee,” I said laughing. We walked quickly through the cramped streets of Diagon Alley. “Where are we going?” 

“I told you Y/L/N. To meet my most spectacular friends.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “Besides you of course,” he added with a smile. 

“And here we are,” he said, stopping in front of a small, shoddy-looking pub. I wouldn’t have noticed it if Lee hadn’t pointed out to me. 

“Here?” I said laughing. 

“Yes, Y/N, now stop pissing about and go in. I haven’t seen Fred and George since term ended,” Lee whined. 

“Alright, alright. Calm yourself Lee,” I said laughing. I followed after him through the cramped doorway of the pub. Lee’s face widening into a smile as he spotted his friends in the corner drinking Butterbeers. He walked over and hugged George first, and that was when I saw him. Our eyes met and I felt butterflies in my stomach. From just a look. I walked over to them and Lee introduced me. 

“So this is the famous Y/N,” Fred said. “From what Lee tells us about you, I think we’re going to be very good friends.” I laughed.

“God, Lee what the hell did you tell them about me.” Fred wrapped an arm around my shoulder as we went to find seats. He didn’t take his arm off my shoulder when we sat down. The four of us joked and talked about our summers and our plans for the upcoming school year, but I couldn’t keep my mind on the conversation. It kept drifting back to the red-headed boy, whose arm was around my shoulders. I remember how I felt that day. I felt like I believed in love at first sight.

    I sigh. If I couldn’t recall the memories, the feelings, so clearly, I could believe it was a dream. But it wasn’t a dream. It’s just the past. And the present, here late at night, without him, hurts too much. So I turn back the time. To another place, where I’m back with him and I feel alright.

    Things were winding down in the Gryffindor Common Room after the party. Most people had left, except for a few stragglers from the party. I spun around the common room and laughed. 

“What’s got you in such a good mood? The party’s over,” Fred said, laughing as he watched me from an armchair. 

“Alcohol,” I announced, smiling widely. 

“And here I thought it was me who was responsible,” he said, coming to stand by me. I stopped spinning for a second a stumbled. Fred caught me before I fell, laughing again.

“Usually it is you, but tonight it’s the alcohol,” I said, smiling. “And the stars,” I added, looking out the window. “And I guess a little bit you.” I giggled. I dropped his hand suddenly and skipped out of the portrait hole. 

“Where are you going?” he said, running after me.

“To see the stars,” I said like it was obvious. “You coming?” He shook his head. 

“The heavens have opened out there. You’ll get sick.” I pouted. “But fear not,” he said. Fred grabbed my hand. “This way m’lady.” He took me to the Astronomy Tower. there was an open glass ceiling, with a view of the entire night sky. We laid on the floor and looked up through it. He put his arm around me. 

“You know, you should have reminded me that you can’t see the damn stars in the middle of a downpour. Arse,” I said, turning to look at him. I hit his chest lightly and he grabbed my hand. He held it close to him, and faced me. 

“But if we hadn’t come I wouldn’t be here with you,” he said with a smile. Then he pressed his lips to mine. It was a chaste kiss, lasting only a few seconds. But it was better than any other kiss I’d ever had. We laid together the rest of the night, tangled in each other’s arms. We fell asleep that way, and woke up that way. I remember how I felt that night. I felt like I was I love. I knew that I was in love.

    I could chalk it up to a hazy, drunken memory, if it wasn’t still so clear in my brain. If I couldn’t recall how it felt to kiss him, how it felt to be in love. How it felt to be loved. 

Suddenly, more memories flood back into my mind, and time gets turned back again. I remember spending last summer with Fred at the Burrow. His 16th birthday party. The night we spent in the Prefect’s Bathroom. Sneaking sleepover’s in the Boy’s Dormitory since he couldn’t find a way into the Girl’s, no matter how hard he tried. Him meeting my parents for the first time. Us practicing Quidditch together. Swimming in the Blake Lake together. Him helping me handle the stress of our O.W.L.s. Me helping him and George with their plans to open a joke shop. 

I smile at the memories, feeling the warmth and happiness that comes from them. And I feel alright, just for a second. Then, as quickly as the warmth came in, I feel the cold seep in again. I remember us breaking up. I remember the stupid fight. I remember the hurt. The tears fall faster from my eyes now. I don’t feel alright. I feel empty and hollow, like I’m missing something. I’m missing him.

“Y/N?” I jump and curse. I should have known better than to come back to our spot. 

“Oh, hey Fred,” I say, quickly wiping the tears, then turning to face him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly, coming to sit beside me on the edge of the balcony. 

“Just thinking,” I say. It’s half the truth at least. I don’t look at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I guess I came here to think too. I just needed to be alone.” He said, looking down at his hands. Oh. He came here to be alone.

“Right, of course,” I say quickly, standing up. Seeing him will make everything worse. “I’ll go, I’ve been here for a while, and i understand needing alone time-”

“No,” he says quickly, meeting my eyes. He grabbed my hand. “Please don’t go. I lied. I didn’t come here to think or to be alone.” He looks rarely vulnerable, so different from the carefree, easy-going Fred I normally see. “I hoped you’d be up here. I think about you all the time Y/N. I miss you so much it hurts. It hurts every time I see you and every time I can’t hold you or kiss you. It hurts that I can’t talk to you, or make you laugh. It hurts when I’m not with you. It just hurts. So please. Don’t go.”

“I miss you too,” i said quietly, sitting back down. I hold tightly to his hand. My eyes tear up again. “More than you could ever know.”

“I highly doubt that,” he said, laughing through his own teary eyes and squeezing my hand. “Because I’m still very much in love with you.” I laugh, and he puts his other arm around my shoulder. 

“I'm still in love with you too,” I whisper into his chest, knowing he hears me. And for the first time in a month, I feel alright. I feel happy.