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vivalas-vega · 1 year

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new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part six

hehehe.... it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for !!!!!!! (insert gif of michael scott screaming it’s happening) - as always lmk what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist!

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part six

add yourself to my taglist

prologue - one - two - three - four - five

word count: 4.2k

warnings: language, drinking, slight angst, smut !!!, oral (f-receiving), unprotected p-in-v penetration (wrap it before you tap it), all the feels bc we’ve all waited too long

The house was absolutely bustling, there were Daggers spread out from the couch to the kitchen to the backyard and while they were making an utter mess of your immaculately decorated home you thought to yourself that this was how it was supposed to be. You saw Amelia and Penny sitting by the pool with their feet hanging over the edge, Rooster and Jake arguing over how best to grill a burger, Fanboy and Payback engaged in a heated discussion about some superhero movie, and Maverick and Bob talking about plane specs while you and Coyote were mixing up the next round of drinks.

“Have you ever mixed a drink before? Give me that,” you said, grabbing the bottle of tequila from him while he held his hands up in surrender. “You’re on lime duty,” you said, reassigning his tasks and he just chuckled while he got to work.

“You and Hangman seem a lot better,” he commented and you nodded. Mary and John had left for home a few weeks ago and everything seemed to be going great with her recovery. You’d gotten her set up with an oncologist you’d met in med school who would be in charge of her care from now on… Mary would have to get frequent scans for the rest of her life but it was something you would all willingly accept if it meant she had a rest of her life to live. Dr. Lewis had gotten clean margins and successfully removed the entire thing which limited her chance of recurrence but there was always a risk and this was just something you all had to live with from now on.

“Things have definitely settled, it’s a bitter pill to swallow to know your mom might get another tumor in the future but she’s in the best hands and we’re doing everything we can,” you replied.

“He told me he was kind of an ass to you during the whole thing,” he said and you just shrugged.

“He wasn’t, I’m sure it feels that way from his perspective but I was kind of an ass too in my own way, we just handled it differently. I went into doctor mode and he went into panicked son mode. Neither was the wrong response, it was just hard to be there for each other but we’re good now.”

“So, do you want to tell me why the two of you are still single then?” he asked and you just gave him a look.

“You’re a worse gossip than Phoenix,” you teased and he chuckled.

“We all want to know, watching the two of you is like having our own romance movie except it’s so much more frustrating,” he groaned.

“Oh yeah? And why is that?” you asked, deciding to indulge him for a moment.

“Because with a movie you get the ending in two hours,” he said and you laughed as you grabbed ice from the freezer to pop in each drink. Between Jake’s mother in the hospital and Coyote now you could feel that a lot of people were awaiting your inevitable reunion and honestly so were you… you just didn’t know how to initiate it, between the longing glances and lingering touches you felt like a high schooler again. You couldn’t tell where Jake’s head was at, every single time you got close to having a moment he suddenly preoccupied himself elsewhere and you thought back to the Hard Deck a few nights ago…

“Rooster, put those shots somewhere else or so help me god… I’m not singing with you,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him as he started to approach you and he looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“But… please?” he said so soft and so small it almost made you feel bad for him. Almost. “Come on, Jupiter, you know you have fun.”

“This is peer pressure. I am actively being peer pressured,” you giggled as he approached you and held the glass up to your lips. You conceded and opened your mouth, allowing him to pour it in and as you wiped the few drops that missed and swallowed you gave him a glare that would have anyone shaking in their boots. “I feel like that was assault.”

“See you at the piano!” he said, walking away triumphantly and you chuckled to yourself. You would see him at the piano later, you always put up a good fight but you couldn’t seem to say no to him… he loved getting the whole bar engaged in song and who were you to deny him his fun?

“I see another duet is in the cards,” Jake said, sidling up beside you having seen the whole thing and while he was doing a great job at hiding it from you jealousy was roaring through his veins. He hated watching Rooster press the glass to your lips, he hated the eye contact you maintained with him while he poured it into your mouth, and more than anything he hated the way you laughed for him. It was silly, yes, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Rooster would never try anything with you, and he knew you would never try anything with him. The two of you had developed a bond he didn’t thoroughly understand but it seemed to maybe you happy and well, who was he to deny you your fun?

“It appears so, I worry about his song selection,” you said, turning to look up at him and you couldn’t quite decipher the look in his eyes as he took a step forward and you stumbled at the proximity and found yourself pressed against the edge of the pool table. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him and you felt yourself slightly tremble with anticipation… Was this finally the moment? Had Phoenix been right all along? Was a silly moment with Rooster really all it took to get you here? He grazed his fingers along your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake and you subtly tilted your jaw upwards.

“Well, I look forward to the show,” he said with a small smirk before stepping away entirely and leaving you reeling as he clapped Coyote on the back and joined his conversation with Bob.

You shook yourself out of it and tried to push past the desire that flooded through you at the memory as you loaded the drinks onto a tray and began to make the rounds to distribute them. The squad was having a great time and you had a feeling these barbecue’s were going to become a monthly occurrence but you really didn’t mind, you enjoyed the change in scenery from the bar and you liked that they all felt so at home here. Establishing yourself as the designated host for all group events had been your main goal and it seemed like you had succeeded.

“Rooster wants to play beer pong, what’s the verdict on that after what happened last time?” Jake asked as you stepped out onto the patio and you chuckled as you recalled the last time everyone had been here. The game had gotten so intense that without even realizing Fanboy had taken a giant step backwards as you were walking behind him and sent you flying into the pool. Jake had gone into overprotective mode, yelling at Fanboy for being so unaware of his surroundings but when you resurfaced you had to cling to the sidewall for support because you were laughing so hard, and you’d pulled the age-old trick of beckoning Fanboy over to help you out only to pull him in with you.

“I am in favor of beer pong, I’ll go grab the table,” you said, handing the boys their drinks before walking around the side of the house to enter the garage. You pulled the folded table from the shelf it resided on and nearly dropped it on your feet when you turned and saw Jake, “Jesus fuck, announce yourself,” you said, catching your breath.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, but you could tell he really wasn’t. “Just thought I’d help you.” he said, pulling it from your grasp. You kept your hand on it for a moment too long, trapping him in place as your eyes raked over him, taking in his beautifully snug swim shorts and lack of shirt as you finally looked up at him through your lashes. His green eyes were holding onto yours intensely and you took a step closer, almost challenging him to do something as tension weighed heavy in the air. You could smell the spearmint and tequila on his breath and you so desperately wanted a taste as you started to lean up on your tiptoes and moments before your lips brushed the garage door swung open with a bang and the two of you jolted apart and looked over to Phoenix as she entered from the house. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her and you turned back to Jake.

“I’ll meet you guys out there,” you said, and he nodded as he left through the other entrance and when you turned back to Phoenix she had regret written all over her face.

“I am so sorry,” she started and you just groaned, watching as she walked down the steps and opened the fridge door, “I came out to grab more beer.”

“That is the closest we’ve ever gotten,” you said, shooting her a glare as you leaned your head against the side of the fridge and pouted, and she gave you a sad look as she closed the door and placed a hand on her hip.

“Seriously? What the hell is his problem? This is Hangman we’re talking about, I thought for sure he would have made a move by now.”

“You’re telling me…” you grumbled, “whose benefit does he think I wore this for, yours?” you asked, gesturing down to your outfit. You were wearing a simple black string bikini top that did wonders for the girls along with high waisted cut off shorts that were just a little cheeky and she chuckled.

“I like to think you did,” she said and you swatted her arm as you followed her back into the house. “If you got that close in the garage it’s only a matter of time, let the outfit do its work,” she said, giving you a nudge as you walked back onto the patio with a stack of red cups that you started to arrange on the table.

“I call Jupiter on my team,” Rooster said and Jake shot him a glare, “what, she’s got wicked aim,” he said and you chuckled.

“Fine, then I get Phoenix,” Jake countered and your chuckle turned into a sigh. Getting the four most competitive people all on the first round did not bode well for what would follow. The rest of the squad had filtered outside, the sun had lowered just slightly in the sky giving your backyard a break from the heat and it was now the perfect temperature for poolside lounging and spectating. You listened as people immediately started betting, deciding which team to put money on and you looked at Rooster.

“Okay, if you’re going to call me then you need to pull your weight, we’re not losing to those two.” you said and he nodded, holding his hands up for you to high five.

“One step ahead of you, they are going down.” he said as he reached into the cooler and grabbed two seltzers for you, cheersing when you cracked them open. The game got off to a hot start and the two teams were tied, going shot for shot until you decided to up the ante and use the fact that you weren’t with your usual teammate to your advantage. You took a sip of your seltzer just as Jake was starting to line up for his shot and accidentally let a little dribble down your chest and you could feel his gaze on you as he tracked it sliding down the curve of your breasts where you swiped it up and licked it from your fingertip. His focus was wavering and you watched with a smirk as the ball plinked off the side of the cup and rolled into the grass.

“Bummer,” you said, voice laced with sarcasm as you held your hand out to Rooster who dropped the ping pong balls in your hand. You could see him position himself directly behind his cups, you knew he wasn’t stupid enough to think your stunt was entirely innocent but you had an advantage he wasn’t considering… sure, he had to be laser focused at work but his concentration didn’t hold a candle to yours. You completely disregarded him and watched in satisfaction as both of your throws landed perfectly in the cups and smiled sweetly at him. You had sparked a new type of competitiveness in him and he landed his next two shots, and you decided to take it a step further, starting to fiddle with the straps of your swimsuit for dramatic effect for a few moments before you turned to Rooster and pulled your hair over your shoulder.

“Roo, can you retie this for me? It keeps slipping,” you said, and poor Rooster was none the wiser as he set his drink down to simply help out a friend. You held onto the front of your top, and though you were refusing to make eye contact Jake was burning holes in your skull as he quickly secured the swimsuit and you smiled brightly at Rooster when he finished before he lined up to take his shots. Phoenix was watching the whole thing with a smirk, as much as she hated the fact that your tricks were going to cost her the game she was rather enjoying how easily you were working Jake up, and that was almost worth losing.

“And that’s game,” you said as your ball landed in their last cup, “better luck next time.” Rooster pulled you in for a celebratory hug before releasing you and you said something about grabbing a glass of water as you slipped back into the house, leaving the rest of the squad to squabble over who was going next. You braced yourself on the edge of the counter as you gulped the water down, your body rejoicing as you plied it with something other than hard seltzer or tequila. You waited for another moment, letting your nails tap erratically against the smooth surface before growing frustrated and rejoining the group, watching as Bob and Fanboy took on Maverick and Coyote… a matchup you wouldn’t have foreseen but you watched anyways in amusement.

“He didn’t follow you in after that little show?” Phoenix asked quietly as you sat down at the edge of the pool next to her.

“Nope,” you replied, popping the p and she shook her head.

“Silly boy,” she chuckled. You let your eyes drift over to him to find his already on you and you briefly wondered to yourself why nothing was happening. In all the months you’d been here there had been plenty of opportunity and you started to get into your own head, wondering if maybe things had changed, if he no longer felt the same way. You didn’t know what you would do if that was the case but you did know you didn’t like the way it felt like a knife to the heart. As the sun set in the sky the rest of the pilots began to filter out, thanking you for hosting and already asking about the next group hangout until one by one you and Jake were left alone.

You were collecting towels from around the pool when you looked up to see him leaning against the sliding glass door giving you a soft smile, “come with me?” he asked and you nodded, discarding the towels on a lounge chair and taking his outstretched hand as he led you through your house.

“Where are we going?” you asked with a soft laugh, but he didn’t answer as he opened your bedroom door and you let out a small gasp when he gestured for you to go in first. The room was illuminated by dozens of small tea lights that were casting an ethereal warm glow over the space and you turned to face Jake as he rested his hands on your waist.

“Ever since you got here I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out the perfect moment…” he said, and you smiled as you looked up at him, “I wanted it to be special, and Phoenix let me know I was losing the thread,” he said with a chuckle and you laughed as well. “And the more time that passed I realized there isn’t any one perfect moment, but that I was missing out on a lot of moments with you and I don’t want to do that anymore.” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want every moment with you, if you’ll have me.”

“It’s about time,” you said, leaning up to crash your lips against his and it felt like coming home. You moved in tandem the way you always did, working together seamlessly as you melted against him and he slid his hands down your sides to cup under your ass where you jumped to wrap your legs around him. He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently and slotting himself against you as he slid his tongue past your lips and you moaned into him.

“Wear this just for me?” he asked as he reached around your neck to untie your bikini top and you nodded as you arched into his touch when he trailed his hand across your chest to pull it off. “My beautiful girl,” he mumbled, mostly to himself as his lips connected to your neck and you let out a breathy sigh, so unbelievably content to have his hands roaming over your body as desire thrummed in your veins. He kissed his way back to your lips before pulling away to gaze into your eyes and your hand instinctively came to rest on his cheek. “I love you so much,” he said as you stroked across his cheekbone.

“I love you,” you replied, pulling his lips back to yours where you kissed with fire and passion. His fingers worked the button of your shorts and he kissed down your body, making sure to leave nothing untouched in his wake as he settled between your legs and pulled them off, quickly pausing to pull his own shirt off. He paid special attention to the soft skin of your thighs, kissing and nipping as his big hands gripped and massaged. He pressed his lips to your clothed heat and you involuntarily bucked against him, desperate for friction. He hooked his fingers around the fabric and slowly pulled them off, eyes flitting up to meet yours that were looking down at him with such love it made his heart stop. You were writhing beneath him, anticipation threatening to rattle you apart from the inside and he placed more delicate kisses around your core.

“Don’t worry, honey… gonna take care of you,” he said before licking a stripe through your folds. Your body jerked at the contact and he looped one of his arms through your leg, pressing a hand to your hips to keep you still. Moans fell from your lips as he carefully licked and sucked your clit and your hands threaded in his hair as you tried to pull him closer. He switched between teasing your entrance and circling your sensitive bundle of nerves with ease, quickly working you up until you were all but begging for more.

“Jake, please…” you sighed, and he could never deny you anything when you sounded like that. He eased one finger into your entrance before quickly adding a second, thrusting slowly and massaging that spot inside you that had you crying out his name.

“Come on, sweetheart… Cum for me,” he groaned against you, eyes straining upwards as he sucked your clit into his mouth and his cock throbbed as he watched your back arch off the bed. He swore he had never seen anything quite so beautiful as your walls clenched around his fingers. You felt that familiar build within you and a particularly rough thrust of his fingers had you tumbling off the edge. White hot pleasure shot through you as you shook beneath him, chanting his name like a prayer and Jake changed his mind… that was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. You jolted again as he kitten-licked you and gently tugged on his hair to pull him up where you captured his lips and tasted yourself on him.

“Please, need to feel you…” you said breathlessly, and reached down to swipe his length between your folds, collecting wetness and you moaned at the sensation. He began to press into you and your hands gripped his bicep as he bottomed out, letting out a breath at how full you felt. He took a moment to let you adjust, brushing hair from your face and placing gentle kisses along your cheekbones. You moaned when he began to move and the slight sting gave way to pure pleasure as he rocked against you slowly.

“I missed you so much, sweetheart… you feel so good around me,” he whispered into your ear as he kissed along your neck and you pushed your body against his, desperately trying to get closer. You let out a loud moan when he picked up the pace, you could feel every inch of him brushing against every spot inside of you and you never wanted this to end. If you could stay wrapped up in this moment of pure bliss forever you would. He snaked a hand between you to rub circles against your clit and you tugged gently at the hair at the base of his neck, involuntarily grinding against him as he groaned in your ear.

“Fuck, Jake…” you breathed out as you felt the tension begin to grow again. He pressed his forehead against yours and your moans came out strangled as he threw one of your legs over his shoulder, filling you so deeply you swore you could feel him everywhere. “I love you so much,” you said, cupping his face with your hands and he pressed a kiss to your lips, trying to convey everything to you he couldn’t quite find the words for. Your thighs began to tremble and soon the only word you knew was his name, repeating it over and over…

“Gonna cum for me again, angel?” he asked and you nodded against him, “come on sweetheart,” he applied more pressure to your clit. “You always did look so beautiful cumming on my cock,” he said and it was as if that was all you needed for your climax to wash over you. Your body shook beneath him as the pleasure rolled over you and you felt a hot tear slide down your temple as you cried his name. Your walls tightening around him triggered his own release and as you rode out your high you felt his warmth fill you while he groaned praise into your ear. He stilled within you while your chest heaved, your lungs fighting for oxygen while you returned back to your body and you smiled softly as you felt Jake littering your face with kisses. He slowly pulled out of you and you both hissed at the loss, and he quickly grabbed a wet cloth from the bathroom to gently clean you up before sliding into bed and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in and holding you close.

“I missed you so much,” he said, kissing the top of your head as you snuggled into him.

“I missed you, too,” you replied, still fully blissed out. “Can’t believe you waited so long,” you teased and he chuckled beneath you.

“Wanted it to be perfect,” he said. “I knew I was going to do it tonight though… your little stunts all day long were making it very difficult to hold out.”

“That was the goal,” you said and he laughed again. “I’m going to say something that might seem a little crazy,” you said as you propped yourself up on his chest to look up at him.

“I’m intrigued,” he replied, carding his fingers through your hair.

“Move in with me.” He looked at you curiously for a moment before a wide grin spread across his features.

“You sure?” he asked and he nodded.

“You are the only thing I have ever been so completely sure of,” you responded and he leaned down to meet your lips.

“I’ll start packing tomorrow,” he said and you laid your head back down, listening to the steady beat of his heart and tracing patterns along his chest. Laying here wrapped up in Jake’s arms the only word you could come up with to describe how you were feeling was complete… it was like the final piece of the puzzle had finally clicked into place. You weren’t sure why you had doubted him at all today, if there was one thing in this life that you knew to be undeniably true it was that it was you and Jake against the world… it always had been and always would be.

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calsprincess · 8 months

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Apologies? | M.C

Okay, so I've never written smut on here or about Micheal, so bear with me if this is terrible.

TW: smut, angst. Femal receiving and oral? Cussing. Male receiving.

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮ ✮✮✮✮✮✮✮ ✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

You were sitting on the couch at the 5SOS house, knees pressed to your chest, waiting for the guys to return from their band duties. You missed Michael, even though you weren't on the best terms with him. You had been fighting about stupid things left and right and ignoring each other most days. Which hurt but, it was inevitable. Before you could sink too deep into your mind the sound of a door opening brought you back to reality, and you looked up to see Michael and the others entering the room. You were excited to see Michael return from band practice, and you greeted him with a bright "Hi Mikey!" However, his response, or lack thereof, caught you off guard. He barely acknowledged your presence and sat down at the dining table without a second thought.

Feeling hurt, you muttered something under your breath, wondering how he could still be mad at you for not waking him up on time. You approached him cautiously, hoping to clear up any misunderstandings, "Okay, let me guess... you're still mad at me for not waking you up early this morning, huh?" Michael's cold response and lack of eye contact made you angry, but you tried to keep a level head. "I'm not your Alarm clock Mikey" you snapped, trying to keep your volume low so no one else in the room could hear. "I didn't realize that not waking you up early enough would make you so mad. I'm not your mother!" you continued. "If you need someone to manage your time for you then maybe you need to hire a personal aide, not a girlfriend!" He began to speak but then fell into silence, instead taking your hand and leading you into his bedroom. "Mich-" Your words were cut short as he swiftly guided you around a corner in the hallway

"Alright, how about we..fuck our feelings out?" he proposed, leaving you puzzled and taken aback. "Huh? Is that your solution, Michael? To have sex and make it all better?" you responded, crossing your arms and starting to walk away. "Please, Madi?" he playfully pouted, trying to ease your anger and win your agreement. "You just blew up on me, and now you want me to consider that as your way of apologizing?" you exclaimed, both surprised and skeptical. “We won't be so mad at each other after…” he hinted with a sly wink, his attempts to soothe your frustration becoming increasingly persuasive. You remained silent, your willpower crumbling in the face of his irresistible attraction. It was undeniable, the way his sweat glistened on his skin, and how his fiery red locks clung to his flushed face, making it impossible for you to resist his magnetic appeal.

“Fuck… you win, let's go” you caved, letting him take your hand and pull you into his room. “See I knew you would give in” he snickered then shutting the door behind you and locking it. “Shut up” you seethed playfully, before his demeanor changed “be a good girl and suck my cock for me as your apology. Then I'll apologize to you after” he demanded, and with that you fell to your knees obeying him. You looked up at him and began to pull down his black skinny jeans and boxers (which in fact were not American apparel) you watched as his member sprung out and slapped onto his stomach with slight noise as you continued to pull his pants and boxers down. “Fuck” you whispered under your breath before using your thumb to swipe his precum around as lube. You got to work, sucking and bobbing on his Member till you felt him twitch in your mouth and let out a loud sinful slutty man moan and shoot his thick ropes of cum down your throat. You licked your lips to get the excess that didn't make into your mouth. “Good Girl, you take my dick so well” he bent over to kiss your forehead before picking you up and laying you down on the bed and ripping off your clothes.

He slid his hand sensuously down your body, coming to a halt at the hem of your jeans. With a sultry look, he inquired, "Can I taste you?" He then smoothly removed your jeans and panties. You responded with a breathy "Yes," eager for his touch. He discarded all your clothes onto the floor and descended between your thighs, planting swift kisses on your clit before reaching up to fondle your breast. Michael returned to your clit, this time allowing his lips to linger as he sensually sucked while skillfully using his free hand to insert his fingers inside you. "Oh, God, Mikey," you whimpered, feeling your thighs quiver, on the brink of snapping shut in ecstasy, but he wouldn't let that happen; he pushed your thighs open more as he continued to Lap your c*nt completely. He sucked and licked relentlessly until he pulled away leaving you with a pout. “Don't worry pretty girl, I've got better.” he lifted his head from between your thighs and pumped himself, before putting his tip at your entrance. “Beg for me, okay pretty girl?” he moved his cock around your slit watching as you became wetter and wetter. “Please Mikey, just fuck me” as soon as the words left your lips he pushed himself in with a sl*tty man grunt. “You gonna take my dick so well?” he went slow before feeling you tighten around him.

"Are you going to take my cock like a good girl?" he whispered, moving deliberately as he sensed you clench around him "Yes, Mikey!" you cried out, your voice a symphony of ecstasy as he thrust into you, his hand skillfully toying with your sensitive nipples, intensifying your pleasure with each tantalizing touch. His eyes locked onto yours, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he explored the depths of your desire. The room was filled with the intoxicating scent of affection, and your connection deepened with each heartbeat, drawing you both into a world of uncontrolled ecstasy.

His thrust became more and more sloppy as you could feel he was close but he wasn't gonna let go until you came first; he thrust harder and faster hitting your G-spot with every thrust, Meaning You were practically screaming out his name; making you so sure the guys have heard you. “Do I make you feel good? Is my apology forgiven?” his thumb rubbed your clit in circles, eliciting you to moan louder and louder as your orgasm approached. Finally, the knot in your stomach snapped after he hit your G-spot again, making your legs shake and your core to clench around his dick. Micheal rid out your high as you both came. He quickly pulled out and his hot ropes of cum landed on your tummy. “Good Girl.” he sighed before collapsing on top of you.

Your breathing slowed as you came down from your high and you started mindlessly playing with his wet sweaty red hair. “I accept your apology baby” you smiled, as he looked up at you. “I knew you would” he giggled placing his hand on your boobs. “For now lets clean you up Princess and we cuddle naked after?” He got up from laying on you and took your hand, trying to pull you up from the bed but your legs gave out. “Guess I did quite a number on you, didn't I?" he snickered playfully before sweeping you up in his strong arms, carrying you to the en-suite bathroom adjacent to his room. As he settled you on the sink, he suddenly realized something. "Oh, damn, I forgot, I love you, Madi," he confessed with a soft smile, leaning in to kiss your nose. You playfully smacked his chest, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I love you too, Michael."

#5sos #micheal clifford #smut #michael 5sos #micheal clifford smut #5sos smut #maturity #angst #fluff #fanfic

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rafor · 7 months

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Chapter 6 - Stories of Perx - The Glitch

Michael had informed me that Gabriel would soon return to see me, but as the days dragged on and I tried to balance my duties with watching over the slumbering Raphael, I grew restless and uneasy. Michael decided to go look for him himself, leaving me in charge of heaven and the human Raphael in his absence. I bristled at his command, even though we were equals in rank. But I knew he was right, and there was no harm in following his advice.

Two days passed, and I had nothing to do but wait or occasionally check on Raphael, leaving him in the care of some companions and guards who would alert me if he woke up. The heavenly army remained loyal to me and greeted me with respect when I visited them. I seized the opportunity to ask them about the rumors I had heard from the guards regarding Perx. Their eyes shifted from eager to ashamed, as if they were somehow responsible for his actions, which they might have been since he outranked them. What they told me was something I never wanted to hear and a contradiction to our nature.

Apparently, we had arranged battles between the army of the Caelestis from heaven and the army of the sinners from hell. During one of these battles, Perx did not show up with his loyalists. It was not because he was skipping the battle or anything else, but because he had a different mission in mind. The battles were arranged due to a deal between their leader, whom you would call the devil but was just an ancient sinner stronger than any other and surrounded by others almost as powerful, and us. Only a few were aware of that, and Perx was not one of them. So when he saw an opportunity to strike at him and potentially eliminate him, he took it.

During the battle, hell was practically defenseless because everyone wanted to join in for a fight that inevitably led to their deaths since the Caelestis would never lose, and if they did, the Archangels would join the battle and turn the tide. You might wonder why we would make such a deal with them. Well, it was because they did not have the luxury of infinite space like in heaven. They had limited land, and fitting everyone in could be quite challenging. Also, the sinners needed a purpose in their lives. With their new bodies and a lack of some basic emotions, they could be hard to control. Using their will to fight and putting them in an actual fight was the best solution we could come up with on both sides.

Back to Perx: He went down to hell looking for their leader, but since he could not find him, maybe because their leader usually disguised himself as a normal soldier and did not just stay down in hell during a battle, he slaughtered all the overlords. One by one, he disrupted every order in the system. After the battle, when the leader was about to return to his domain with only a few of his high ranks as survivors, they suddenly had a lot more work to do to manage all the new sinners that were coming back every minute. They really needed those overlords.

The worst part of all this for us? Perx disappeared for more than a whole year for unknown reasons, and due to his nature as a shadow angel, both Michael and Gabriel were unable to find him. Then, eventually, Gabriel managed to track him down by chance and bring him back. Perx did not want to obey their order to stay up in heaven for what they called a much-needed break for him, and he often kept disappearing and reappearing again. Recently, he disappeared again, and that’s why I did not get to see Gabriel now. He was still searching for him, and now Michael was searching for both of them, as I learned.

I spent my time studying for something to tell the human Raphael, since it was clear that he would not wake up on his own and I had to force him to do it and then try to explain everything he might ask or complain about. Also, I was still determined to find out a way to successfully complete the merge, and since Michael did not seem too keen on the idea, even though I knew he knew the solution since he just did it by fixing Gabriel and his twin soul, I had to study it by myself.

My sources could be our own books, some ancient grimoires not written by us but with some useful information about these cases, or even recent technologies that our masterminds developed. These recent technologies were similar to what humans were developing too, and that’s where our masterminds took inspiration from: exploiting the idea and making something that could process an incredible amount of data that we could feed them since we had plenty enough and that would give us a good enough solution as an output.

#chapter #dragon #dragons #elements #fantasy #literature #mystery #story #poetry #adventure #the_glitch #the rise and fall of raphael

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shallowrambles · 1 year

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"Dean's 'you're dead to me' comes out of nowhere!"

HUH?

It...doesn't...come out of nowhere. It's harsh, but take a GIANT step back and really LOOK at it.

THE only guy in the family who can;

(A) see and judge the state of souls and

(B) tolerate anything close to "angel strength"

doesn't show up for family game night but chooses instead to go off on a quest he doesn't tell you about. Later, he calls you on the phone and implies that the kid shouldn't have been left alone with other family members: "They're together? Alone?"

That's a grotesque miscommunication of the danger at hand. Now, Cas was scared, and he apologized, that's true. But by his own admission, as usual, he waited until it was too late.

This tendency is intrinsic to his personality even before the complex, interpersonal stressors throughout the series.

Cas has always tried to handle things alone. It's allllmoooost sweet. His intentions are usually good. He tries to spare everyone their burdens rather than shoulder them together. That's one reason we love him.

But, inevitably, it gets bad, and he goes for help once the situation has ballooned.

In practice, it's the withholding of important info in his relationships. If there's a partnership, it's not being present in a partnership. (And again, it's not his fault exactly, but Cas wasn't there at their time of need. Some bad stuff went down with Nick, but Cas did leave at a time that Jack was incredibly volatile--a time when his expertise would've undoubtedly helped.)

To Cas, maybe the danger seemed obvious. But not only did he not communicate this, he sent Dean off alone with said kid to talk to Donatello.

Dean was not equipped to handle a soulless being of unimagineable power. He's not equipped to judge the stability of a soulless being. (He might as well play eeny-meeny-miny-mo.)

Hell, soulless!Sam almost got him killed back in the day. Those are some pretty traumatic memories to revisit, on top of Dean's recent Michael trauma.

Now, do I think Dean would have necessarily listened about the snake? Maybe not at first. Denial is a strong force. But I'm saying that anyone might behave weirdly or explode when faced with that information IN the moment of peril. It's hard to act rationally when you dread the possibility of your parent being dead and your kid being (symbolically) dead/gone.

---

TLDR; I'm team "let Cas be responsible for his actions and lack of communication."

Sam and Dean are obviously in the wrong during this era, and ppl accept that too easily, but Cas was in the wrong, too. Let him own that part. Let it be a mess. Sometimes, no one is completely in the right, and tragedies are tragedies. There's no getting around the fact that if Cas had been forthcoming with the danger Jack posed, it would have helped. A LOT.

And don't give me the -whomp, whomp- "but Cas was punished for working with Crowley to turn himself into a radioactive-he's-gonna-blow-bomb-that-even-Balthazar-couldn't-get-behind" or "b-but when he was vulnerable, he was kicked out of the bunker," and now he's uncomfortable talking to them. On the first instance: he did the same thing back then! He waited till things hit critical mass to ask for help, and then he demanded help when no one agreed with him. He killed Balthazar for it. Rachel didn't agree either btw. Lots of ppl hated the plan, not just his human fam. And the bunker? Literally, Cas completely got the nuances of that situation when Dean explained it. Instantly. He even compared it to Metatron's lying. Cas was more horrified by yet more examples of angelic manipulation in their lives than the individual things that occurred because of that manipulation.

In short, Cas's commication issues way predate all of that. It has to do with being self-reliant and living billions of years with no real emotional support system outside of a 1984-style authoriarian govt. We see Cas's communication style over and over; it's on full display when he stole the colt to kill Kelly. He wants to spare his loved ones, but he also wants, "a win...for himself." Cas values his identity as strong protector. We see that in the flash forward in the script of 12x19: The Future.

He wants to shield his loved ones, but he's often so protective that it winds up hurting everyone.

Plus, Cas has assessed rightly that he didn't even talk to Jack about the snake, or how to determine right and wrong. Cas was a soulless being for billions of years and he offered no support to the supposedly soulless kid!

He believed in Jack's goodness for so long that he couldn't bear the idea of his corruption. It's really unfair, because all Jack did was become a being more like Cas himself. :(

#cosmic hierarchy #cas doesn't want jack to be like him - pure angel #cas want to emphasize the human elements #that's a bit unfair #dean is very obviously wrong #but haven't you ever lost a fam member violently? it's ROUGH

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deliriousgeek · 3 years

Text

Thomas Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: A quiet evening meant for celebration is thrown into chaos. Y/n wills herself to play into the daunting role that comes with being Thomas Shelby’s wife, because it might be the only thing keeping her alive.

Masterlist

Tommy lowkey feels very oc so idk how to feel about that. im not good at writing suspense...its also very long. ha :,)

Warning: blood, guns, knives, fights, usual peaky blinder violence

If anyone knew Y/n Shelby, then they would know that she can’t stand seeing dead bodies. Although in her case, having that reaction would seem ironic, considering her husband was Thomas Shelby.

It was around 9pm when Y/n slipped her night robe off and lay back on her bed. Her night was just winding down and she was waiting for Thomas to get back. He said he would try to be home around midnight, and to not wait up. He and his brothers would be at the Garrison, celebrating Arthur’s return from prison and discussing what was to be done with the Jews and Italians next.

Y/n knew it would be a couple hours for Tommy to be home, so she settled onto their bed and grabbed a book off her night stand.

The room was bathed in a warm, orange and yellow light— the type of light candles can give. When she was home alone, Y/n liked to use candle light. It reminded her of a time before the war and before this gang business, when all she and Tommy had to worry about was getting enough candles to light up the dinner table.

Half an hour had passed and Y/n had gotten through a decent number of pages in her book. She felt her eyes drooping and decided it was time to call it a night. She stretched and cracked her neck before turning to place her book on the nightstand. Just as she was about to place the book down, she heard a creak downstairs.

She froze.

Tommy wasn’t supposed to be back until midnight and none of the Shelby family would come over this late without a call, that was their safety protocol.

She listened for more creaking.

After Tommy had bought their house he had insisted on replacing the creaky floor boards, but decided to keep a few. In certain spots, that could be easily avoided if one knew where to walk, the floor would still creak. It was a safety thing that Tommy and Y/n agreed would be good to have. If the floorboards downstairs still creaked after the first step, it wasn’t one of them.

Creak...creak...creak...

That wasn’t Tommy.

Y/n took in a deep breath as she put herself back into a sitting position on the bed. An intruder was in her house. At the moment, the Peaky Blinders had a lot of enemies. It could be anyone. Mostly, someone with a gun.

She listened as the person made their way upstairs. She could hear them passing Tommy’s office, and the guest bedroom. This person knew where their room was, and she could only deduce from their movement’s that they were coming for her.

Y/n was scared. She knew how to defend herself, but didn’t like doing it if she didn’t have to. Rolling her shoulders, she prepared herself for the inevitable. She’d have to fight tonight.

To be clear, Y/n Shelby wasn’t unable to fight. She was a pro at throwing knives, which she preferred to guns; much to Tommy’s dismay. She knew how to shoot a gun and could decently fare in hand to hand combat, but she was still scared. Her heart beat in her chest quickly and anxiety bubbled to the surface. A normal reaction to knowing someone broke into your house to hurt you, or worse. Y/n assumed it was the latter. However, instead of letting her fear show, she turned on her fake calmness. A trick she forced herself to learn as Thomas Shelby’s wife. The alarm that was spread across her face vanished, instead being replaced with an eerily calm facade.

There was no point in locking the door. The person knew how to get past those if he made it into their living room. She heard their steps stop at the front of her door, she raised her book to her face, pretending like she was reading.

Act calm. She told herself.

Then, the door burst open.

Back at the pub, the Shelby brothers were sitting around the table in the snug. Sharing laughs and taking on their third round of Whiskey.

“Alright boys,” Tommy began, placing his glass down and looking around the table. “We’ve had our fun, business begins now.” His content expression turned serious.

His other brothers, and cousin Michael, cleared their throats and straightened up.

“As you know, taking Arthur out of prison is a direct threat to the Sabini’s. It shows that even in London we have enough influence to get our own men out, if needed.”

The brothers nodded, and shared looks.

Tommy continued, “Getting Arthur out was our first move. Now it’s the Italian’s and the Jew’s turn but we don’t know when their next strike will be. So, from this moment on we have to be aware, alert, and ready for every—”

The door flew open.

Sir!” Out of breath, Isaiah stood with one hand on the door knob, looking at Tommy.

“Oi!” Arthur shouted. “You know better than to interrupt!”

Tommy nodded his head at Arthur, then turned to Isaiah. “What is it, lad.”

“Better be important,” John added.

“Sir, the Italians are here. My dad spotted them making their way down the lane. They got a group with guns and a car. We best hurry.” Isaiah said in a rushed voice.

With that all the Shelby men stood and placed their caps on, rushing out of the snug.

Upon noticing the urgency in which the brothers exited, the rest of the Peaky Blinders in the pub were at full alert, waiting for Tom’s next words. The crowd silenced as the brothers stood at the snug doors, facing the onlookers.

“If you aren’t a Peaky Blinder,” Tom eyed the crowd, “leave.”

Noise filled the bar again as chairs shuffled, cups were placed on tables, and the front doors opened and closed.

Tom didn’t speak again until there were only Peaky Blinders left. He pulled out his revolver and checked it, making sure there were bullets, before looking up again.

“Battle formation, men. The Italians are here.”

Then in a flurry of peaky hats and over coats, the rest of the men got into their positions. Some ran up the stairs to get the extra cases of shotguns and revolvers. Others pulled out their own handguns and checked them as well. The Shelby boys looked at each other, a silent way of saying ‘good luck’.

Once Tommy deemed every one armed, he nodded to Arthur, who shouted to move out.

The Shelbies were at the front, while everyone fell behind them in triangle formation. As they marched outside, they could see the group of Italians rounding the corner.

It was rather intimidating. An outline of men and guns on shoulders, a rather sizable group at that, illuminated by the truck headlights that followed behind. It was a sight to see.

Darby Sabini stood at the front, a shotgun slung over his shoulder.

As the groups marched towards each other and came to a stop, a man behind Thomas called out to the front. “At your command Sergeant Major.”

A hushed tone of agreement spread throughout the group.

Darby stepped forward. “Thought you could come on our turf and get away with it, aye?”

Tommy stepped forward as well, hands in his pockets. “It was meant as a friendly gesture, but I don’t think you have enough friends to know what that means.”

A small smirk made its way onto Tommy’s face as he stared Darby down.

Darby narrowed his eyes, irritated at that remark. “I’ll show you what friendly means. Now!”

A hail of gunfire began and the sound of shots being fired filled the lane. It was chaos. Bullets flew and body’s fell. Punches were thrown and blood was spread. More men jumped out of the covered truck and ran to beat down the men on the other side.

Tommy ducked and punched, kicked and shot. In the middle of punching a man in the gut he yelled, “Leave Darby for me!”

His men did just that.

Thomas fought his way to the center of the fight, where Darby had just knocked out a Peaky Blinder. Tommy aimed his gun and walked forward, aiming at Darby. The fighting on both sides ceased.

“I didn’t bring a battalion to your town.” Tommy spoke clearly, in a raised voice.

Darby aimed his gun as well. The two circled each other as men on both sides stopped to observe the interaction. They watched Tommy and Darby tread carefully, like two tentative predators waiting for their opposer to falter.

“You still showed up. That was enough.”

The two men were breathing heavily, a result from the brawls they just finished.

“What’s your purpose for being here, Sabini?” Thomas stopped pacing, his gun still firmly held up.

Darby stopped as well. An obnoxious laugh left his lips. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Tommy didn’t move. He held a blank face, but his eyes still watched Darby with intensity.

Not waiting for a response Darby continued, “I’m reminding you that I can take away everything you have in an instant. I already put your brother in jail, which it seems wasn’t a good enough warning for you, since you stupidly had him released so quickly.”

Darby took a couple steps toward Thomas, gun raised.

“Killing me won’t do anything. I got people in place to still ruin you.” Thomas stated, his tone flat.

Darby lowered his gun, a sickly calm smile spread across his face. It was an unsettling sight that made Tommy begin to think something was off.

“Oh Tommy boy, I’m just the distraction,” Darby’s eyes noticeably darkened, “How’s your wife these days?”

Tommy’s eyes widened and his finger pulled the trigger.

Darby fell to the ground dead, a bullet was lodged in the center of his forehead.

Then like a wave, the fighting began again.

As soon as the gunshot rang, Tommy saw red. He shot, punched, kicked or swung at anyone in his way as he fought to get out of the crowd. He didn’t bother shouting an explanation to his brothers as he ran to his car.

Tommy shoved his keys into the ignition and started the car. Tommy slammed his foot on the gas as soon as the engine roared to life. The car’s lights illuminated the carnage left from the battle. The Peaky Blinders were the last ones standing, as Tommy expected, but paid no mind to. His thoughts too consumed with conjuring the hundreds of horrible possibilities he might see upon arriving home, all ending with a bloodied image of Y/n.

John and Arthur ran towards the car, causing Thomas to slam on the breaks.

“Where are you going?” John asked urgently.

“They’re going for Y/n.” Thomas hastily replied.

John and Arthur jumped on the side of the car just in time before Tommy could speed up again.

Michael and Finn watched as the older Shelby boys passed them.

“Great. So we’re left to clean up the mess.”

At the house, Y/n held her book to her face as the door burst open. She turned her head and was met with the sight of a man pointing a gun at her. His clothes were clean and he looked very young. Her eyes flitted from the gun to his shoes, then to his eyes, then back to the gun.

“On your feet.” He demanded.

“What?” Y/n feigned innocence, despite her struggle to keep calm.

The man, gun still held towards her, trudged over and ripped the book from her hands, throwing it onto the floor.

“I said on your feet!” He yelled in her face, backing away so he was a few feet from the bed.

She stared into his eyes, an impassive look on her face. Y/n looked back down at the gun.

With a purse of her lips and a shrug she stated, “I’d rather not.”

The man’s soldier esc demeanor nearly slipped at her blatant defiance of his orders. “It’s not an option lady! Get up.”

She chuckled. “Y’see, lad. I’ve been on my feet all day. Have you ever worn heels for over six hours? Rather painful you know.”

Her cocky attitude betrayed her quickly beating heart that was full of adrenaline.

In an effort to scare her, he menacingly stepped forward. “I ain’t afraid to hurt you lady, but the boss wants you alive. If you keep disobeying me, I'm allowed to use force.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh really, and who is your boss? I must thank him for not wanting me dead.”

She knew she was playing with her life, but if this boy was as inexperienced as he looked, she would get the information she needed to warn Tommy. Granted, if she got out of this situation.

“Sabini.” The man bluntly answered.

Y/n swallowed. This wasn’t good. If Sabini’s men were here and not in London, she needed to warn Thomas immediately. Her heart pumped faster than she thought possible and every nerve in her body was on the verge of trembling from fear.

“I see.” Y/n turned her head to the foot of the bed. “Well, like I said, I’d rather not get up. Matter of fact, I’d rather keep reading. So be a dear and hand me my book, would ya?” She was stalling.

“C’mon lady, stop being stubborn. You don't even got a weapon to be making these demands.” The man sneered.

Y/n slowly adjusted herself so that she scooted away from the pillows that propped her up. She straightened her legs on the bed, her left crossed over her right. Then she leaned back on her arms, purposely pushing up her chest to show off her unbinded chest. Hopefully, he’d be dumb enough to look at her distraction, and he was.

“Ah, well. It was worth a shot. I can tell that you're new to this whole— kidnapping thing. If you want to get better at it then you should learn this.” She paused before looking back at the man, “Always do research on your target.”

The young man’s brows furrowed, obviously confused.

“If you did your research, like a good little gangster,” She began as she slid her left leg up off her right, causing her silk nightgown to slowly expose her leg. The man’s eyes roamed her leg once she stopped moving, leaving her left leg in a bent position. She reached for the hem of the dress and raised it further up her left leg, stopping until it got to her mid thigh, “Then you would know, that I’m always armed.”

In a swift and well practiced motion, Y/n grabbed the sharp, throwing knife from her thigh holster, and threw. The knife landed in the man’s chest, in his heart. Looking down at the knife, the man stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet and falling onto his back. Blood quickly formed a growing splotch of red on his shirt. Y/n quickly stood from the bed to remove the gun from the man’s hand, she then crouched over him.

She placed her hand on the knife handle, “It was a shame you didn’t do your research.” Then she pushed the knife forward, until she felt through the blade that it had really punctured his heart.

Y/n stood over the man’s body, gun in her hand, and watched the blood puddle grow. She backed away until her knees hit the bed and gave way. Letting out a shaky breath, she sat with the gun in her lap. In an attempt to avoid looking at the body laid in front of her, Y/n stared at the ceiling.

The adrenaline began to wear off, and the reality of the situation dawned on her. She could have died, quite easily too. If her attacker had not been so inexperienced and if she wasn’t wanted brought back alive, she could have died. Then, she thought of her husband.

Tommy.

Had the man lying dead on her carpet opened the door and shot, Tommy would have had to come home to her dead body instead. The thought of Tommy finding her body, cold and bloody, scared her more than death. She couldn’t imagine the pain of him being alone. He would blame himself for her death. He would say he couldn’t protect her, and he would loathe himself for the rest of his life. Tears began to prick her eyes and her throat tightened. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to go away and for her erratic heart beat to calm down.

She killed a man.

That’s the only thought she could process. Her emotions muddled her thinking. Never before had she used her knives to kill. She used guns, from far away. She used punches to knock people out. She used her knives to injure, but never before had she needed them to kill. She was slightly glad for the memory of Tommy coming back home from an errand, returning with the thin knife holster that he insisted she wear when he wasn’t home. She was also glad that she made it a rule for herself to never take it off unless Tommy was home with her.

Then, the silence of the house was broken again. She flinched. This time, the sound came from the front door slamming open and muffled shouts that she could only register as her name.

“Y/n! Y/n where are you?” The voice shouted.

She couldn’t pinpoint who it was, not in her boggled state of mind, but she knew it was safe. So she answered.

“In the bedroom.”

Her eyes were still shut and her head faced the ceiling when Tommy rushed in.

“Y/n.” His voice was slightly breathless as he took in the sight before him.

The room was covered in warm, candle light, giving a complete opposite tone to the tense atmosphere. His wife sat on the bed with a gun in her lap. A man, with his wife’s knife in his chest, laid dead on the ground and a puddle of blood surrounded his wound.

Y/n opened her eyes and looked at her husband. She could see the fear and worry that filled his eyes, his face in slight shock.

Thomas was relieved to see his wife unharmed, but he could see the tears that were threatening to fall. Her slumped shoulders were signs of exhaustion. The way her chest moved up and down with heavy breathes told him she was on the verge of holding herself together.

Arthur and John came bounding up the stairs next, and found their places on either side of Thomas.

Y/n’s voice came out void of emotion, but her teary eyes said it all. “One of Sabini’s men.” She stated before turning her eyes to the ceiling once more, trying to blink away tears. “Please get him out of my sight.” The growing puddle of blood made her want to throw up.

“You heard her,” Thomas said in a low tone, staring at his wife with concerned eyes. “Get rid of ‘em.” His voice was just above a whisper.

Arthur and John stepped forward, grabbing the man by his arms and lugged him out of the room. Only once the man had been removed did Thomas walk towards his wife. Only when he wrapped his arms around her did she let herself cry. She let herself sob and express how truly scared she was when the man burst into her room, and pointed a gun to her head.

Thomas held her close and kissed her head. He whispered in her ear that she was okay, and that she did what she needed to do. Holding her close, he told her he loved her, and promised to never let anything like that happen to her again.

Masterlist

well I tried

Edit: Bro this blew up in less than a day with 41 notes. Thank you♡

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x wife reader #thomas shelby x wife reader #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby wife imagine #thomas shelby x hurt reader #thomas shelby x reader protect #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby wife imagine

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angryinternetduck · 3 years

Text

Bet On It

HELLO i’m back again with not only another fic but another friends to lovers!!! here’s 5.9k on hotel mishaps, long-term bets, and falling in love. featuring harry styles x reader with just a few warnings of explicit language and alcohol consumption.

enjoy!!!

masterlist | ask

***

Five Years Ago

If you hadn’t met him an hour before in the bar of the hotel, you would’ve said no. Share a hotel room with a stranger just because the hotel fucked up and double booked a room? No. Absolutely not.

Except -

His name was Harry. He was very cute. And sweet. He complimented your shoes in the bar, dimpling at you all cutely before holding out his hand and introducing himself. He let you prattle on for way too long, laughing at all your jokes and nodding gravely when you started getting serious.

And surprisingly, when you said you had to go, he didn’t ask you out or try to kiss you. He just told you it was nice to meet you with a smile. Problem was that that wasn’t the last you saw of him; when you went up to the desk to get your key card, the receptionist informed you of the mistake.

“We’ve double booked it. You’ll have to work it out amongst yourselves,” they said. “We can suggest other places to stay, or you can sleep in the lobby. Or - of course, you can always share. He’s over there. Guy in the pink shirt.”

You looked over, and lo and behold…

“Harry.”

“We meet again.”

“Was this your doing?” you joked. “All that to get me in a room with you?”

Harry grinned. “I wish I were that smart.”

“So just coincidence?”

“Or perhaps fate,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“Did you know?” you asked. “When you, uh - introduced yourself?”

He shook his head and said, “Not that it was you.”

“Well, now that you do, what do you say? Share the room?”

Harry tilted his head from side to side, pondering. “Let’s prove it was fate,” he decided, meeting your gaze with a grin. Your brows furrowed, and he clarified. “Rock, paper, scissors. I win, we’ll share. You win, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.” He held out his fist.

“Won’t make me find somewhere else?” you asked, smiling a bit. “Would rather share?”

He shrugged.

“Alright, then.”

Both of you counted silently, in your heads -

Rock, paper, scissors…

Harry grinned, and you made a fist from your scissors to bump his rock.

“Fate it is,” you said.

Fate proved to be in your favor; that night, you had the most fun you’d ever had in your life. To your surprise, however, the fun didn’t involve sex. Just talking. You sat on the bed drinking booze from the minifridge and talking until dawn with this Harry Styles.

It came up at one point, sex - or at least kissing did - but neither ever happened.

It was around three, when the exhaustion had set in, when you were lying down, gazing into each other’s eyes, half asleep. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” he’d whispered, and you grinned at him. “I should be asking you that, don’t you think?”

He looked confused. “Why’s that?”

“You’re the one in love with me,” you told him.

He giggled, rubbing his eyes. “And what makes you say that?”

“You wanted to share!” you exclaimed, like it was obvious, because it was.

“Sharing is caring.”

You bounced your brows. “Caring. Loving.”

Harry laughed and insisted, “Not the same!”

“I’d bet a million bucks you’re in love with me,” you murmured, tapping his nose.

“Then a million bucks you’d lose.”

“You will be,” you said, nodding slightly.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, a smile growing on his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a million bucks to give me on my deathbed when I still only care?” he said.

“Do you have a million bucks to give me when you confess?” you said back.

He stared at you for a second. His eyes were very green, his smile very wistful. “A kiss.”

“A kiss?” you echoed.

Harry nodded. “I will bet you one kiss that I will never fall in love with you.”

“You’re gonna want a lot more than one kiss when you inevitably do,” you whispered.

“At least one kiss,” he amended.

“At least one kiss,” you agreed.

“Shake on it?”

You both shifted around in the bed so you could shake hands without sitting up.

“It’s a bet,” Harry said.

And so it was.

***

Present Day

“Give it to me straight, Styles,” you greet Harry, plopping down at your table with a sigh.

He hesitates for a moment, drawing out the suspense, and then breathes, “Care.”

You shake your head disappointedly. “Unbelievable, how bad you are at lying, you -”

Harry interrupts, “What’s really unbelievable is your tardiness -”

Then you do: “Your annoyingness -”

He pouts and fires back, “Your vocabulary -”

“Your lack thereof -”

“That’s not proper English.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “You’re not proper English.”

“I promise you I am,” he replies with a smirk.

“I’ve always thought the accent was fake.”

“If it were, I’d be the greatest impersonator to walk the earth.”

“Impersonator?” you repeat. “And tell me, what is an impersonator but a talented liar?”

He gives you a grin. “I’ll take the compliment of talented, thank you.”

Leveling his gaze, you smile back and take a sip of your drink. “You know, I think that actually was proper English,” you muse. “Lack thereof. Your vocabulary - or lack thereof.” Harry bites his lip, eyes narrowed, staring at you, and you’re tempted to joke that his focus is lust when he replies, “It’s still wrong. I was saying your vocabulary is naive, and by saying I have none, you’re fundamentally saying the same. It’s redundant.”

Clearly satisfied with himself, he sits back, smiles smugly, and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Harry Styles,” you say, “I’m going to smack that smirk right off your pretty face.”

“Second compliment in a day!” Harry exclaims. “Someone alert the press.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your own drink. “Why, they’d have a field day.”

The little cafe you’re in is absolutely adorable. It’s midway between your place and Harry’s, and after that fateful night in the hotel (during which you learned you live so close to each other), you began a tradition of meeting here once a week.

Tradition doesn’t end with just the location and time. Each meeting is almost exactly the same. You’re always late, and you always greet him the same way: some variation of “Have you fallen in love with me yet?”

And his reply is always the same: negative.

From there, the conversation wanders as much as it ever does, with one asking about the other’s week and the response being long and filled with complaints and woes and lamentations. The question is echoed back, and the response is - again - long, filled with complaints, woes, etc.

Despite the moaning and groaning, the mood never falls too low. It’s impossible to feel down around Harry Styles; just one look at those dimples makes a smile of your own appear on your face.

Your friendship with him has certainly blossomed. It’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen in love yet (or maybe he has, you’ll never know unless he says), and a greater wonder still that he hasn’t turned the question around on you.

Because the answer would be yes. You have, in fact, fallen in love with him.

Deeply, madly, in love.

But he’ll never know, because you’ll never say.

***

“I love you,” you tell Harry breathlessly, looking up at him lovingly. “Most ardently.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, no - I’m just a girl! I’m just a girl, standing in front of -”

“I’ll always be there for you!” you cut in excitedly. “All the love in my heart, Llo -”

“Michael, I love you!” Harry gushes. “Choose me, marry me, let me make you happy!”

You jump up and jut a finger at him dramatically. “We live in a cynical world!” you exclaim. “A cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors. I love you! You - you complete me!”

Harry jumps up to match you and begins, “I hate that -” then shakes his head and restarts, “I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie - I hate it when you make me laugh and - and - and even worse when you make me cry - I hate the way - I hate it when” - he’s grinning big now, jumping with excitement and passion - “you’re not around and the fact you didn’t call - but - but mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even a little bit, not even at all!”

It all came out in a rush of jumbled words and you’re so impressed you can’t help but sit back down and clap for him. Bright red, Harry takes a bow and collapses onto his couch next to you. “That took way too much effort,” he says, out of breath.

“It was worth it,” you tell him. “That was dazzling, really. You should go on the road.”

Harry nods. “One man show. Shakespeare. All of his long monologues, then bam - a poem better than all the others combined.” You giggle and fall into him, leaning against his chest with a sigh. “I’ll come with you,” you say. “Follow you to the ends of the earth and hold my breath to Pluto.”

“What’s that from?” Harry asks.

“That’s all me, baby.”

“Maybe the poem better than all the others combined could be yours.”

“Impossible,” you say immediately. “Nothing will ever beat Kat Stratford.”

“I’ll manage.”

You scoff. “You?”

“We.”

You shake your head. “There’s no ‘we’ in genius, Styles, but there is an I.”

“And a U!” Harry replies.

You look up at him.

“Wait.”

Snickering, you sit up and stretch your arms towards the ceiling. “Stick to memorization, maybe. Leave the heavy lifting to me. You need some practice on that speech, anyway - I counted at least three errors, not to mention the stuttering.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Harry sings. “What do you say, can I confess my love to you every night for the sake of practice?” You shake your head, standing up again and grabbing an empty container of food to throw away. “Not without losing the bet.”

Harry follows you, cleaning up as he goes. “Just for the one man show!”

“No exceptions.” You grin at him, grabbing your stuff and heading for the door. “Thanks for the food, Styles. I’ll see you Sunday?” Harry nods and blows you a kiss, which you catch and put in your pocket. “I’ll save that for when you lose the bet,” you tell him.

“Get outta here,” Harry laughs.

You stick your tongue out at him and stick a post it note on the door frame as you leave.

***

Harry usually wakes up to a few texts. Maybe a call every so often. Notifications from social media aren’t uncommon. The only days he wakes up to nearly a hundred texts are the nights you decide to go to the outlook.

Whether or not you like staying up late normally, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning to go to this place you found about three hours outside of the city. It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s completely worth it.

There’s a little woods out there, and a while ago you went a bit off path and found an outcropping of rocks that look out over the city. At night, stars are visible. There’s nothing you love more than lying for hours on the cool stone, gazing up at the heavens above.

The first time you took Harry to the outlook, you asked a question, and Harry’s answer to that question was one of the only lies he’s ever told you. You’d asked, “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

And Harry had said, “Of course not!” when in reality, he’d been looking for an opening to mention that very fear for the twenty minutes before, while you’d been climbing steadily uphill through the trees.

In his defense, there was no way he could’ve said anything different. You were just so happy, glowing with excitement and practically buzzing with energy. Plus, you’d grabbed his hand at the moment you asked to pull him up the last ridge and he was still a bit startled.

He never came to regret that lie. He grew out of the fear, anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal. In fact, he’s almost come to love heights. He loves the thrill, the burst of happiness, the insane phenomenon of a racing heart and the feeling of being totally at peace all at the same time.

Incidentally, he also feels that way around you, whether the two of you are a hundred feet up or not. He’s always enjoyed spending time with you, and even just seeing you makes him happy. It’s what makes you a good friend.

Harry’s gone with you a few times to the outlook, but it’s usually pretty late by the time you want to go. Sometimes you’ll call him and he’ll pick up, and you’ll talk on the phone until one of you falls asleep.

You went last night, apparently, because Harry scrolls through seventy-two text messages this morning. It takes a while, since he reads all of them and then replies, but he woke up early anyway so it’s fine.

It’s Sunday, so he’s headed to the cafe to meet you. He has a cup of coffee even though he’ll get one at the cafe, too. There’s a sticky note on the coffee maker - Note to self: tell Harry there’s a snickers bar in his sweatshirt pocket - which you probably left a few days ago.

Harry smiles at the note, then frowns, sticking his hand in his pocket. There is, in fact, a Snickers bar in there, and Harry throws it out. It’s from almost a month ago, when you and him had an August Halloween. The sun is just a little too bright. Harry listens to music in the car, humming along and tapping his hands against the wheel in time.

You’re late, of course, so he orders his second cup of coffee and reads a newspaper on the shelf while he waits. Today it’s five minutes until you arrive, which is actually more on time than usual, and Harry throws you a large brimmed hat he found in his closet when you approach the table.

“What say you, Harry Styles,” you greet him, catching the hat and placing it on your head. “Make a jester laugh” - you form a heart with your fingers - “or make a jester cry?” Your heart cracks in two as you pout at him.

Breaking a finger-heart of his own, Harry grins. “Laughing clowns were always creepier to me,” he tells you. You trace a finger down your cheek like a tear and sit down across from him, sliding a menu from its place on the wall and beginning to read it over.

You look up at him, half smiling, a joke on your lips, and then -

Harry blinks.

Just like that, something’s changed.

You snap in front of his face. “Hello? Anything? You could at least pretend to laugh.”

“Christ, sorry,” Harry breathes. “What’d you say?”

Raising a brow, you lean forward and inspect him. “You alright, there, Styles?”

“If I were any better and it’d be obscene,�� Harry answers easily, tapping your nose.

Grinning, you sit back. “Fantastic. Tell me, then, how it’s been. Fill me in.”

“It’s a lot better seeing you in that hat.”

“Oh, I forgot!” you exclaim, looking up at it.

Harry giggles and asks, “You wanna know what one hat said to the other?”

“Oh, boy.”

“I’ll see you on a-head!”

Groaning dramatically, you throw the hat at him and bury your face in your hands.

***

"This is getting embarrassing, Styles,” you say as you walk up to Harry.

He turns around, a smile already on his face, and begins, “What’s -”

He stops when he sees you, because you’re all dressed up. You look absolutely stunning, which was on purpose, because of course you want to see his reaction, whether he loves you or not. And it’s very satisfactory, this reaction.

“You look fantastic,” Harry says softly.

You clear your throat, a little put off by how serious he’s being. “That was the goal.”

His eyes float back up to meet yours, a small smile on his face. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” you chirp. “But don’t let your head get too big - I only came for the free food and movie.” Finally, the glaze over his eyes fades, and he grins at you. He takes your arm, and as you walk, he asks, “You started a thought, you know, about something embarrass-”

You scoff. “You asked me on a date, Styles!”

“I did not!” Harry insists. He shakes his head. “My date ducked out at the last second -”

Smirking, you cut in, “Wonder why, Mr. Pink Suit.”

“- we were going to match, thank you - but really, she ducked out, and I wasn’t about to waste two perfectly good tickets. Thus… here we are.” He nods, like he’s pleased with his answer, but you raise a brow at him. “That’s a terrible excuse. You can just say you love me. I’ll accept.”

You arrive at his car. “Not yet,” he says, and then he gets in.

He starts the car, and for a moment, you gaze out the window.

Then, breaking the silence, you say, “I like the suit.”

“I like the look.”

“Thanks, I came up with it all by myself.”

“Impressive.”

You wait a moment, and then ask, “What inspired the pink?”

“She said she wanted a pink rose.”

Frowning, you begin, “I thought you said pink roses are -”

“Yeah, they’re not my favorite,” he mumbles.

You snicker a little. “Oh, what a bad date in high school can get you…”

“Hey, don’t tease,” Harry whines with a pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” you murmur. “You’re nice to dress up anyway. No rose, though?”

Sheepishly, he tells you, “I… forgot.”

“You forgot?” you laugh.

“Yeah…”

“Well, um… well, it’s the thought that counts.”

Harry pulls into the parking lot and parks the car, then unlocks the doors. “Come on,” he says, but you frown at him, confused. “You know you pulled in the wrong way?” you ask, but he just beckons with his hand and opens the trunk.

You hadn’t even looked - there’s pillows back there, and candy, and blankets, and he flicks on little fairy lights. “Harry Styles, you romantic!” you gasp, enthralled. “Wow, I gotta meet this girl, if you’re doing all this for her…”

He sits down and pats the space next to him, then grabs a pack of candy - your favorite. He hands it to you, which you take with a slow smile. “Her favorite too?” you ask. “Nope,” Harry replies, shaking his head as he opens his own pack of candy. “Forgot to ask her, but when I called her in the store she wouldn’t pick up so I just… got yours.” He clears his throat and hands you a bag of popcorn. “There’s this, too.”

“Thanks, Styles.”

On the huge screen in front of you, the movie begins to roll. You take a risk, sliding a little on the seat so you’re leaning against Harry, head against his chest. You can feel him breathing, his heart beating, his arm around your waist, thumb gently moving back and forth over the fabric of your clothes.

You fall asleep for most of the movie.

When you wake up, you’re leaned against a pillow, not Harry. Frowning and out of sorts, you sit up and rub your eyes. He’s leaned against the car outside, on the phone, and you can just barely make out what he’s saying.

“... I know, it’s… Yeah, I - I’m sorry you couldn’t make it, love. I missed you…”

The familiar feeling of tears building behind your eyes horrifies you, and you have to turn your back to him as tears start slipping down your cheeks. You’d somehow managed to convince yourself that it was all a ruse, that he’d meant it to be you from the start, that there was no other girl, that all along it was -

“Hey,” Harry says.

You cough, palming away the tears on your face and yawning like you’d just woken up. “Oh, hey… How’s, um - how’s she doing? Or - whoever - I mean -” You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“She’s fine,” Harry tells you. “How are you? Took a pretty long nap there…”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “I was… I’m tired.”

“C’mon, then, let’s get you home.” He smiles at you, dimpling adorably, and holds out his hand. You take it and slide off the back of his car. “Thanks,” you say. He nods and shuts the trunk while you get into the passenger seat.

You don’t say anything as he starts the car, as he backs out and heads for your place. He glances over at you, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, and eventually turns on the radio. You fold up a sticky note and covertly slide it into the center console.

“I’ll see you Sunday,” you tell him when he stops the car.

He nods. “See you then.”

You hold his gaze for a second, and then get out of the car. As you’re shutting the door, Harry says, “Hey!” and you stop. “Hey, er - thank you. For coming tonight. I know it was a little… It was a bit much.”

“Not too much at all,” you say softly. “Bye, Harry.”

You shut the door.

***

The sticky note business began about a year after Harry met you. He’d mentioned something about refrigerator magnets being the most charming form of communication ever invented, and the next day he found a sticky note on his mirror that said, Note to self: find a more charming form of communication than refrigerator magnets.

Harry doesn’t find the sticky note in his console until the next night, when he’s driving home after working late and he’s trying to find his phone. It’s ringing, and it’s your ringtone, which is really, really annoying because you set it to the worst song you could think of so he’d be motivated to pick it up fast.

It’s not in the center console. It’s actually in his pocket. He picks it up.

“Harry, you gotta tell me now,” you say immediately. “Do you love me?”

“I -”

“Love or care, Styles.” You sound breathless. “L or C. Lover or Cunt. Tell me now.”

“Cunt,” Harry says reflexively, and then shakes his head. “I mean -”

“You don’t love me.” You don’t sound upset at all. You’re just clarifying.

Harry frowns. “I… What’s going on?”

“Well, I think I love this guy, Styles, and I’m about to fuck him, so I’ll talk to you later.”

And then you hang up.

Harry stares at his phone for a moment. Then he puts it down, frowning at the street in front of him, and thinks for a while until he gets home. When he does, he’s shutting the center console, which he’d left open, and he sees the little post it note.

Note to self: buy a pink rose for h to make him like them bc they’re pretty

Sitting in his car, staring at the note, Harry can’t help but think he’s messed it all up.

***

Sunday. You don’t show up.

***

Another Sunday. Harry orders a coffee and reads the newspaper.

You don’t show up.

***

You answer a text.

He asks if you’re okay, and you say, Yup!

***

You send a text.

Hey, Styles? Can you bring me a flower?

***

He should’ve gone to your place first, Harry’s thinking. He should’ve checked there, and then gone here. But it’s too late now. He’s stepping out of his car, trekking through the forest, and he’s finally here, and -

You’re on your back, staring at the stars.

“You know, I really thought he was the one.”

Harry bites on his lip and fiddles with the flower in his hands. “Did you?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then you sigh and sit up. “No.”

“He didn’t - you’re not… You’re okay, right?”

“Nothing’s broken but my heart,” you murmur. “Physically, I’m fine, emotionally, I’m…”

You fade off, and Harry sits next to you and hands you the flower.

“Yellow,” you whisper. You look up at him, eyes wide in the moonlight. “Why yellow?”

“Color of your shirt the first time I met you.”

Smiling, you murmur, “Memory of an elephant.”

“I couldn’t remember her favorite candy,” Harry says impulsively. He shuts his eyes, exhaling softly. “Sorry. Wrong thing to say.” You shake your head, looking forward again. “It’s fine. How’s she doing?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

Surprised, you glance at him again. “You mean you -?”

Harry shrugs. “She said my priorities weren’t right. Then she said goodbye.”

“We’re just a coupla broken hearted fools, aren’t we?” you say quietly.

“Broken hearted, yes,” Harry replies, “but I’m not a fool. Don’t know about you.”

You scoff, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. “We’re having a moment here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry says, but he’s laughing so the apology is moot.

There’s a beat of silence, and then you say, “I would’ve known about her if I hadn’t missed all our Sundays. I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Did you have fun, at least? With Mr. Heartbreak?”

You giggle. “So much fun.”

“Well… that’s good, at least.”

He looks at you, really looks, and for a moment, he forgets himself.

You’re looking up at the stars, your head tilted up, your lips curved upwards in a smile.

Harry’s expression matches yours. It’s one of quiet awe, of happiness and joy and adoration. He’s smiling, too, but it’s not as conscious. It’s more reflexive, something he can’t help but do whenever he catches sight of this view. He’s not looking at the stars, though - his gaze is focused on you.

“Come on!” you exclaim suddenly, jumping up. “This is the perfect excuse to watch The Notebook again.” Harry blinks, standing up and following you back to his car. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” he says.

***

Ideally, on the anniversary of your meeting Harry, you’d both rent a hotel room and get drunk on the minibar, talking nonsense until morning, to properly reenact that first night together. Problem with that is that hotel rooms cost money.

So instead, you have a sleepover. Last year it was at your place, so this year it’s at his. The good thing about not being in a hotel is that you can buy normal size bottles of booze, rather than the teeny ones from the minibar.

He’s grabbing everything from the kitchen while you’re queueing up the movie on the TV in his room. It’s not cooperating, though, and you’re rooting through all the wires in the back to try and find something that’s supposed to be connected.

“Harry, if you don’t get in here this second!” you shout at him.

“Did you get the other remote?” he shouts back.

You groan and whine, “Just come in here!”

“I haven’t gotten everything yet! Look for the second remote. It’s in one of the drawers.”

“Which drawers?” you yell.

He doesn’t reply.

So you ruffle through the drawers closest to the TV. Books, papers, chargers. No remotes. You go further and find his record collection. A few photo albums. You stick a sticky note on the top one that says, Note to self: go through these. There’s more books. A few DVDs.

And then - a folder. It has a yellow flower on it.

Frowning, you glance at the door behind you and then flip it open. What must be a hundred post it notes fall out. Your jaw drops, just slightly, because they’re all from you. Every sticky note you’ve ever left him is in this folder. He kept them all.

“Did you find it?” Harry shouts.

You ask, “Find what?” but your voice is too soft and he doesn’t hear you.

He shouts your name again, and you quickly shove the folder back where you got it. You clear your throat, then yell, “Harry, I can’t find it!” Finally, he comes in, arms full of food and drink, and tugs open the top drawer on his bedside table with his foot.

And there it is.

“Have I got to do everything around here or what?” he jokes.

You give him a laugh and set up the TV, which works just fine now that you have the right tools. Harry sets everything down and puts his hands on his hips, raising a brow at you. “You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, fine,” you tell him. “Just grew a few white hairs waiting for you to come back.”

He sticks his tongue out and tosses a bag of chips at you. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

Finally, the movie’s set up, and you lean against his bed, sighing in contentment as the opening credits start to play. Harry hands you a glass and holds his own out, which you knock against your own. “Cheers, Styles,” you say. “To five years.”

“And counting.”

Grinning, you drink up and then settle back to watch the film.

***

His voice is thick.

Like honey.

It drips off his tongue, catches on his lips, slides down the column of his throat and glistens in the dim light. It’s rich. Deep. It turns to crystal in the cool air around you as his words fade off. You want to reach out and feel it on your fingers, want to taste it on your tongue, want to feel it slide over your lips, down your throat…

“... and then, suddenly, I was flying out the window with the worst pain I’ve ever -”

“Harry,” you interrupt with a giggle, “this is the third time you’ve told this story tonight.”

“It’s a good story!”

“Lemme see,” you say, crawling forward, and you’re on his lap now but you can’t really bring yourself to care because this is for scientific purposes. Harry grins and puts his hands on your waist and you giggle again and put your fingers on his jaw. “Lemme see your tongue.”

“Wanna see it or touch it?”

You smirk and reply, “How ‘bout lick it?”

“That’s gross!” Harry exclaims with a delighted laugh.

“I know!” you exclaim back, equally delighted.

“It’s broken,” Harry says, but he’s opening his mouth so it comes out all warbled. “I’m broken, you know -” You peer at his tongue, but it doesn’t look very broken. “No, you’re not,” you tell him.

“On the inside,” Harry says, pouting at you.

You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, nestling your head on his shoulder in a hug. “You’re warm,” you say, “that’s what you are.” Harry nods against you, running his hands up and down your back. “You fix me,” he slurs into your neck.

“That’s so romantic!” you giggle.

You sit there for a second, breathing him in, feeling happy, and then suddenly -

“I’m roasting,” Harry says, and it’s morning.

“I’m so hot,” you groan, “and my head hurts so bad…”

Harry grunts and pushes against you. “Get off me.”

You open your eyes, squinting in the sunlight, and fall off of him and onto the floor.

He stands up, moaning and groaning, and walks out. You may have fallen asleep again because when he comes back in and hands you a glass of water and some medicine you’re blinking back awake. “Thanks,” you mumble, downing both.

“That was something,” Harry says.

“Something for sure,” you say.

“I can’t move,” Harry says.

“Me neither.”

So you don’t. The day drags on, and when you’re both coherent enough for food you go to the kitchen. Harry cooks something up, and you eat it, sitting next to him at the kitchen island. You feel his foot against yours, and you play a half-delirious game of footsie as you finish eating.

Once you’re all done, Harry stands up and starts to wash the dishes. You watch him, watch his back and his arms and the way he moves, and stand up and stand next to him, grabbing a dish towel and holding out your hand. He hands you the plate, and you dry it.

It’s comfortable, the silence, and it’s more than peaceful, standing there drying dishes with Harry in the early afternoon. There aren’t many dishes, but you both take your time, and eventually he breaks the silence and the productivity to put on some music.

And then, suddenly, you’re dancing, a smile on your face that you can’t seem to get rid of curving your lips as you float around the kitchen with him. He’s bopping along to the song, hand in yours, dish towel over his shoulder after he stole it from you.

The dancing carries you to the living room, where he twirls you out so you can collapse onto the couch. He does the same, and you put your feet on his lap, head on the armrest, looking at him.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“You’re in front of me.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You raise a brow, smiling and still holding his gaze, and then sit up. “Staring contest, go.”

Instantly, he blinks, and you laugh, “Fuck’s sake.”

“No, no, again,” he demands, grinning, and he blinks quickly a few times before declaring, “Go.” The staring begins. Your eyes begin to sting, and you bite your lip, trying to keep your eyes open.

“We should watch Bird Box,” Harry whispers.

“Saw it last week.”

“I saw it,” he corrects. “You hid behind your hands the entire time.”

“You were the one screaming like a baby.”

“I prefer rom-coms, you know that.”

“Sometimes you need a little variety in life.”

“I lost the bet.”

You blink.

“Victory,” Harry says, a bit weakly, blinking too.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“Victory,” Harry repeats, smiling sheepishly.

“No, no, before that,” you insist, shaking your head.

“I lost the bet,” Harry repeats softly.

You swallow thickly. “What bet?”

Harry bites his lip, concentrating, and then stands up and walks away. You scoff, following him, and ask again. “What bet?” He shakes his head, quiet, and opens his refrigerator, looking for something.

“Harry, for the love of -”

He holds out a kiss. A chocolate kiss.

Your eyes widen.

He steps closer, holding the kiss out on his palm. “I lost the bet,” he says. “I fell in love with you.” Your breath catches in your throat. “I don’t know if you feel the same,” he goes on, “so I… I don’t want to kiss you. I mean - I do, but -”

He holds the kiss closer to you. “I lost,” he finishes quietly.

You can’t find the right words.

So instead, you close the distance and kiss him.

The chocolate kiss falls to the floor, and fireworks erupt behind your eyelids.

After a moment, the words come.

And then, when you pull away for a moment, you both speak at the same time -

“I love you.”

Laughter bubbles from your lips, and Harry grins, kissing you again.

“So I guess I didn’t lose after all,” he murmurs.

You smile against his lips. “Let’s call it a tie.”

***

AHHHH there it is!!!! i actually did write this in like . two days . which was ! great haha but i hope u liked it!!!! if u did, feedback and a reblog would be much appreciated 💜

thanks for reading!

masterlist | ask

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles

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hozierandco · 3 years

Text

Sam Fender x Reader / call me lover

Friends to lovers. Lots of fluff.

Plot: Y/N and Sam have been friends for as long as they can remember but growing up has led them to grow apart. There are many things they have to tell one another.

The thing with kids is that they grow up. Too quickly, with too much silence surrounding them.

Sam was a boy, Y/N was a girl but to one another, they were just friends. They had known each other for as long as they could recall and had not doubted one second that they were just friends. Of course, there were the subtle questions from their parents, the hesitation when Sam would spend the night at Y/N's but their parents too knew it was just friendship.

Although they agreed that with all the secrets and trust they shared, they would be the best of couples, they thought it to be too pure to be broken.

Their friends too believed that it would inevitably happen, that they would end up together. Of all people, Dru was the most persistent on the matter. He had known Y/N for a longer time than Sam since Y/N's mother was the doula and a close friend to Drew's. Therefore, the two of them considered each other as siblings.

He liked to tease Sam to make him confess a crush he would have on Y/N. To no avail.

And then, there had been Y/N's first boyfriend when she was 15. At a time in his life when he was still playing Fifa in his room when he was not toying with his piano, he had to endure his best friend clung to her boyfriend's arm.

For the first time, he felt repulsed by the sight of Y/N but mostly by that of the Alex Turner wannabe her heart had fallen for. He began writing about love and deception though he had no reason to have known either.

Of course, the idyll was cut short with Alex Turner #2 coming back from summer camp without his virginity anymore, exploit he felt the need to share with the whole school.

Sam and Drew had come to Y/N's rescue the day at school and together, they had eaten pizza and waited for Y/N's tears to disappear. It was the world against them from now on, and nothing could change that.

Sam had worked his ass off to make Y/N proud and had done all he could for his A-levels. In spite of all the intensity and long hours of going over Horatio Nelson and the Boer War with Y/N, he gave up and started working in a pub. He was to be a musician, no matter what.

His fingers got crooked because of his guitar, his voice sore but at last, he was given a festival to play at. Drew would be there too of course.

As for Y/N, she had started working in an architect's office while studying at the local Uni.

Things got so fast. The kids grew and were soon overwhelmed with new responsibilities. Y/N had a new life for herself and Sam was about to tour before releasing his debut album. When he found out that a label had signed him up, the three friends along with Dean and Joe had screamed their lungs out.

It had come out of the blue that Joe fancied Y/N and it had also come out of the blue that Sam didn't like this turn of event.

The tour meant that they would not see each other for at least half a year as Sam's studio was in London. They had never been away from one another for so long so the day Sam left North Shields, it felt like the soil was crumbling under her feet.

Y/N informed herself of Sam's whereabouts through Dru as Sam didn't reply to her texts. Dru was regularly implying to his friend that he should call her every now and then, but he was always "too busy". Just like that, silent formed around them.

"Sam, call her", Dru begged one more time.

Sam sighed. He did not dare calling her, he felt as though he had let time rule his emotions. The more distance he put between them, the harder it was to think of something to say. Sure, he was busy but he always had been busy.

"You know what day it is today, don't you?"

Sam stared with round eyes at Dru.

"It's her bloody birthday, Sam. Just call her, okay?"

Dru had taken Sam's phone from his coat that was lying on the floor and forced Sam to take it.

Sam went to the room, right next to where he was and dialled Y/N's number, ending up on the voicemail "Hi! I hope that the voicemail just indicates that you're getting hammered somewhere and I also wish you a happy birthday. I'm sorry I didn't call earlier, I wish I could make it up to you. I miss you and I love you"

It was not until the message got sent that he realised what he had just said. Sam knew that opening up always led him to say too much and he couldn't take the risk to lose Y/N.

"What's wrong?" Dru asked when he saw Sam visibly agitated.

"I screwed up"

"You just had one call to make, how can you screw up a call?"

"I said something I shouldn't have. I told her that I loved her"

"As in I love you?"

"Yeah, I mean it's not something we say to each other"

"And do you? Love her?"

"Yes, Dru. I think I do. I think I always loved her"

"Well then, you haven't screwed up. You've just made things easier"

Days went by without a word from Y/N and Sam to pass time was playing with his phone a couple of times a day, not knowing what or if he should write to her. But then it got worrying, he feard that something had happened to her.

"D'you have news of Y/N?", he confronted Dru one night.

"She didn't say that she loves you back, huh?"

"She hasn't said anything at all, in fact. Is she alright?"

"That's odd. Yeah, she's fine, I just got a text from her, not even ten minutes ago. I can ask her to reach out for you if you want"

Dru is a magician as not only five minutes later, Sam's phone buzzed.

Y/N: Dru said you called on my birthday. My phone was off, you should have left a message... Sam: I did! You didn't listen to it? Y/N: I didn't get anything... Sam: Can I call you now? Y/N: No, not tonight. I'll call you tomorrow morning, good? Sam: Yes :)

Sam was not a morning person but he woke up as early as he could. He waited and finally she called. On FaceTime. She looked radiant, unlike him who severely lacked of sleep.

"Hey!"

Bring the tone down, Fender, Sam thought. You're gonna freak her out.

"Hi, sorry I couldn't call you yesterday. It's good to see you"

Just like that, one moving still of Sam was enough to have her mood lit up.

"So, can't make a voicemail work, huh?" Y/N joked around.

"I promise you, it worked. I don't know what happened but it's good I get to tell you like that"

"Tell me what?"

"Well, first that I'm sorry I've been an idiot lately. It's just that I've missed you so much and I wanted to see you and I couldn't stop thinking of you all the time"

An unfamiliar noise of a plate falling.

"Garlic's going on an adventure?" Sam referred to Y/N's cat that was known to be the clumsiest cat on Earth and that Sam had helped naming six years prior.

The distraction was much needed as Sam was blushing and it started showing on camera.

"Let me just go somewhere quieter"

As Y/N left her living room for her bedroom, Sam saw the silhouette of a man trying to assemble the splinters the plate had left behind.

"Sorry for that. What were you saying?"

"Nothing. I'm just sorry I didn't call you earlier and I hoped that you had a great birthday..."

"You sure there was nothing else"

"Yeah, yeah I'm sure"

The two of them chatted for another 5 minutes when the conversatio became awkward.

Y/N was certain when she hung up that Sam was about to reveal his feelings. And she would have let him. In fact, she would have revealed hers as well.

But Dan had to be in the way. Or was it Ian? Stan? Y/N had always done this. When she was thinking of Sam too much, she was collecting men to share the night with.

She never got attached to anybody but liked to wake up by a man's side.

A few weeks later, Dru called Y/N with good news.

"We've got some rest from the tour. We'll be at Shields for a month or so. I cannot wait to see you again, little sister!"

Y/N had set her mind to meet them at the train station from where she would get in the tour bus with them. Since Sam's aborted declaration, Y/N had not gotten any news from him and was not taking any.

When the van arrived and its doors opened, Dru ran to Y/N and hugged her "Ah, come here, you!"

There was a new face amongst the original team.

"Hi, I'm Lisa" the stranger introduced herself. By gazing that her hand was in Sam's, Y/N took a wild guess that the two of them were a thing.

"Nice to finally meet you. You're the 5th Beatle or so it seems. The boys could not shut up about you"

Y/N grinned at Dru and fainted a smile towards Sam. Unfortunately, she couldn't say as much for Lisa and blamed Dru to have kept it a secret.

Lisa was gorgeous, it was undeniable. Her posh accent had made the journey with her and contrasted with hers and the boys'. As long as Sam is happy, I'm happy, Y/N tried to convince herself as she got in the van.

"So, pub?" Dru asked. It was not even 5 pm but the idea seemed to everyone's taste.

"I'll join you later if that's alright. Joe, can you drop me off? I've got a few things to do before I join"

"You alright?" Dru whispered at her as he was seated next to her in the back of the van.

"Yeah, I'm fine" but as she answered, she stared a little too long at Lisa and her brown curls, her tanned skin and her perfect Julia Roberts smile.

"It's Lisa, huh? I don't like her either. Too posh for Sammy"

"I've never said I didn't like her"

"Then what?" Dru hesitated and then exclaimed "Oh!"

As he had nearly shouted, all of the boys and Lisa turned around to laugh at his looks of bewilderment.

Dru shushed himself down as his friends took the piss at him "Finally got the epiphany that you're ugly, Michael?" Dean mocked him.

As Dru brushed the joke and everything went back to normal, he went on with his whispering "You fancy Sam?"

Y/N simply nodded which got Dru leaning back in his seat, stirred by the confession.

"There, you go, princess" Joe stated as he had parked right in front of Y/N's flat.

They all greeted Y/N goodbye and agreed that they would see each other at 7. Sam did not dare looking at her in the eye. He knew he should have said something about Lisa but he had not come around it, why would he since she had her own life now?

As she opened the door, Y/N started tearing up a little, stunned by all the events. She seized her phone and sent a text.

By 6.15, the intercom rang. Y/N had changed into a wrap dress made of sequins and black heels.

"Hey!", she exclaimed to the man who was waiting by the door. This one was Chris, a chap she had seen some days prior. He reminded her of Alfred Enoch somehow with his chiseled jaw and round cheeks. Y/N didn't feel like being alone tonight and Chris was good company.

"Y/N, here!" Joe informed as he was in charge of getting a new round of drinks "By the table over there. Oh hi" he said to the stranger "I'm Joe"

Chris was by far the best-dressed man there as, clearly not familiar to pubs, he was wearing an open white shirt over brown chinos.

Dru and Tom made some space for Y/N and Chris to sit once Y/N had introduced everyone to her date.

The conversation was very much alive by 8 except for the fact that Lisa and Chris felt left out as it was all about childhood memories and family-related topics.

Sam was all eyes for Y/N. It was as though nothing awkward had ever happened between them and as though they were kids all over again.

In an effort to include Chris in the night's ambiance, Y/N asked him to dance with her. She hoped by that that she could get a reaction from Sam as dancing was THEIR thing.

At her birthday parties, they were always the two ones inventing silly dance moves on cheap Eurodance. As teens, they would always wiggle at gigs while the rest of the audience would look at them tenderly.

"I should get going. I've got a meeting in the morning" Chris let Y/N know as a song by Marvin Gaye ended. It was only 10 pm but Y/N didn't hold him back.

"C'mon, Sam. Invite her to dance, you're dreaming of it" Lisa rushed him. "She's your best friend after all"

What if he didn't want to be her best friend anymore?

Sam got up and joined Y/N. Tonight, he would tell her the truth. Not tomorrow, tonight.

"May I accompany you?"

"Yes, you may. Lisa's not into dancing?"

"I don't know but I'm into dancing with you"

"He's in love with her, isn't he?" Lisa asked Dru who had just ordered more drinks.

"Yeah, I think he is.. I'm sorry"

"Don't be, it's no big deal. Sam and I were just fooling around anyway. She's sweet, just what he needs"

"They just have to admit it now"

"So, Chris.. You two are together for long?" Sam asked.

"No, I mean technically we're not together. We've met twice with tonight"

"He seems nice"

"Yeah, I suppose. You and Lisa?"

"About the same: couple of weeks, nothing too serious"

"What did you mean to tell me last time?"

"Last time?"

"Yeah, you were saying that you missed me and all"

"Well, yeah. Touring without you sucked. I've missed you every fucking day. I want to be with you all the time. It's always been like that me and you"

"I missed you too, Sam"

The song had changed.

"What I'm about to say could ruin what we have but I just have to say it: I've always loved you, Y/N. It took me a whole ass tour to realise that. It's what I told you on the voicemail"

"I love you too, you idiot!"

Dru admired Lisa's ability to remain amicable even when she understood that Sam and Y/N had just confessed their feelings. He had judged her badly and saw what Sam had seen in her: a genuine goodness.

Sam was eager to kiss Y/N but had to make sure that Lisa was alright. He wanted more than anything else in the world Y/N and him to be together but he couldn't do it like that.

He turned around to Lisa only to see her kissing Dru. Sam shook his head and turned back on Y/N who was laughing at this sudden act of PDA.

Sam laughed along and then joined his lips to Y/N's.

#sam fender #imagines #fluff #friends to lovers

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windsource · 3 years

Text

Let Me Follow

15x18 coda (again.) dean’s pov, inspired by this post (by @iheardyourprayer) and this one, and also this song; wc: ~1.2k

For most of the time that Michael is there, Dean is barely paying attention.

He lets Sam do the talking, even though a small voice tells him that it’s selfish, that he should be listening, that it wasn’t fair.

He almost laughed.

A lot of things weren’t fair.

So their conversation had faded into the background. Low hums of voices, like they were being careful, like they were trying not to be too loud. Like they were trying to make the room feel empty.

It felt like that anyway.

A distant anger, far back in a corner of Dean’s mind, wanted to throw a fit because of it. He wanted to raise his voice, kick and throw and beat himself up until there was nothing left of him. But there were too many thoughts fogging up the urge, clouding over it and making it indecipherable amongst everything else that echoed in his mind.

You’re the most caring man on earth. I’m destructive, I’m angry, I’m broken. I know how you see yourself, Dean. I’m furious. For love. For you. The most selfless, loving human being. Why now? Why did you have to say it now? I cared about you. Then why did you leave? Something...I can’t have. That’s not true. It’s in just being. You have me. You changed me. You’ve got it backwards. I love you. You have me. Because of you. I’m saved. Goodbye, Dean. Don’t do this. I love you. Not yet. I love you. You have me. I—

“Dean,” Sam says.

He lifts his gaze.

And everyone who knows you sees it.

No one is looking at him. At least, not directly. Michael’s eyes are fixed somewhere around Dean’s knees. Sam tries, glances at his face every so often behind a bowed head and solemn expression. Jack is staring at the table with his eyebrows creased in thought.

“Uh,” Sam clears his throat. “Michael was saying—”

“Yeah,” Dean interrupts. He doesn’t want to hear about their next doomed-to-fail idea. Their next inevitable let down, their next predictable loss.

He looks at Michael, who surprisingly meets his gaze in return. Everything you have ever done...

“Can I talk to you?” Dean asks. He tries to keep his voice flat, tries to stomp down any semblance of feeling from seeping into his tone.

The three of them exchange looks, as if the idea strikes things off balance.

“Why—?” Sam starts.

“Alone.” Dean adds firmly.

Sam looks between him and Michael like it’ll answer his question. There’s silence as they wait for Michael’s call.

I left. Yeah…you did. You didn’t stop me.

“Yes,” Michael says eventually. He uncrosses his arms, and Dean stands from where he’s leaning against the table to lead them out of the map room.

They don’t go far, just a vacant room down the hall, but Dean makes sure the door is shut behind them before turning to face him.

“I’m sorry,” Michael says. Dean steels his face but nods in a gesture of thanks. He doesn’t really mean it.

“Well, Adam was right,” is his hollow response. Since when do we get what we deserve? We don’t. He didn’t.

“You’re going to ask me if there’s a way to get him back.”

Michael says it in a tone that Dean has never heard from him before. It’s careful, calculated, as if he was trying to ease his way into a let down. Dean’s small flicker of hope dies then and there.

“But let me guess,” Dean says, “You can’t.”

He forces himself to watch as Michael shakes his head. He needs to know for certain, he needs to know that he’s done everything he can. Dean turns to leave, a hand on the cold steel door handle.

“It’s not like Purgatory,” Michael explains. “But I…wish I could help you.”

“So do I.” I cared about the whole world because of you.

Dean swallows and closes his eyes. Cas wasn’t the only person they’d lost. There was still everyone else, there was still the rest of the world, even if Dean felt like he’d lost his.

He hadn’t been listening before. Maybe Michael could at least help them.

“Just…help us save the rest of them.”

Dean glances back up at him. Michael's nodding, brushing past him through the door that's now wide open, heading back to where Sam and Jack are.

Dean should follow.

Instead, he heads in the other direction. Down the hall, past the kitchen, intending to go to his room. Maybe...maybe he’ll be able to breathe better there. But honestly, the entire Bunker just fills him with dread. The air isn’t—isn’t the same anymore. Ever since we met...It’s not even oxygen. Ever since I pulled you out of hell...Or at least, Dean thinks that there’s less oxygen than there is carbon dioxide—Knowing you—and it’s—has changed me—getting harder to breathe.

Dean presses a hand against the wall to balance himself, seeing black shapes obscuring the space in front of him. Because you cared. He’s dizzy, mind swarming behind his eyes, so he feels for the nearest door handle with his other hand and pushes it open, stumbling inside an unknown room that he still can’t see yet.

I cared. I cared about you.

Dean shuts the door, some of the blots of black subsiding. He’s breathing heavily, gasping for air—air that there seems to be a shortage of. His chest feels tight, so he’s hunching forward, staring at his legs until he forces himself to stand upright again.

Dean looks around.

He stills.

The bed is made. Sheets folded meticulously, devoid of any wrinkles in the fabric. The pillows, those are smoothed down too. Dean finds himself being pulled towards it, holding his breath the entire time. He can’t breathe this air, he can’t disturb it.

He lets his fingers gently touch the sheets. Presses a palm on the pillow. His eyes trail over to the nightstand.

It’s seemingly empty, nothing on top except for a lamp that’s turned off. Dean pulls open the drawer, and he feels the tug on his heart with the gesture.

There’s a few things inside. A worn bible, one that you’d steal from a grimy motel, twenty dollar bills and all. A few papers, scattered, what looks like grocery receipts and thoughts jotted down on the yellow note paper they used on cases sometimes. Dean moves them around gently, sifting through them, fingertips searching for anything different. He pauses when he sees the corner of something, takes the edge of it and removes it from the rest.

His chest feels tight again. So tight that his body is sitting down on the bed before he can decide if it’s a good idea. He stares, brushes a finger carefully over the surface.

“You didn’t let me stop you,” he says. Breathlessly, with a tremor in his voice that’s straining to hold back what might be a sob.

“I told you—I told you not to. I was—I said I should have stopped you, Cas. So why...”

Cas isn’t looking at him. He’s staring off at something else, hair decorated with the hat Dean had made him wear when they were up in Dodge.

He didn’t know Cas had kept it. I love you. Of course he had.

“Why would you go where I can’t follow?”

tag list (ask to be added/removed):

@castiels-a-winchester ✧ @jellydeans ✧ @writtenmemxries ✧ @cestladean ✧ @randomblabbling ✧ @fluffiestlou ✧ @dreamnovak ✧ @weird-dorky-little-deana ✧ @bloodyhandprint ✧ @hunteriheroicii ✧ @friedchickenangelwings ✧ @galaxycastiel ✧ @destiel67 ✧ @destielle ✧ @dickspeightjrs ✧ @on-a-bender ✧ @organicpurplepants ✧ @casbelieves ✧ @boy-king ✧ @spacegirlstuff ✧ @seffersonjtarship ✧ @winchester-novak ✧ @professorerudite ✧ @squintingg ✧ @holmesemrys ✧ @imnotrevealingmyname ✧ @mishha ✧ @good-things-do-happen-dean ✧ @angxlsgrxce ✧ @casandeans ✧ @castielscrookedtrenchcoat ✧ @destiel-in-its-natural-habitat ✧ @gracelesschoice ✧ @superduckbatrebel

#i know i said i wouldnt write any more #but its haunting me #anyways sorry in advance lmao fuck #rambleoncas writing #spn spoilers #spn 15x18 #15x18 coda #destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn

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sweeethinny · 3 years

Text

James is dating

thank you very much to @matrixaffiliate and @deadwoodpecker who helped me finish this one shot

ao3

--------------

''James is dating.'' Harry said, no longer holding on to the secret, remembering non-stop the scene of his son kissing the blonde warmly, in the back of the house.

Harry knew that his children were growing up, apparently it was inevitable that this would not happen, there was no potion or spell that would slow that moment. But he hoped he was free a few more years from having to deal with teenage romance.

''What?'' Ginny said, stopping the cream on her face and turning to him with eagle eyes. ''How do you know?''

''I saw it.'' Harry sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and hiding his face with his hands. When did your son stop saying 'ew' for any interaction between man and woman and started practicing them? Nobody talked about it when you said you were going to be a father.

''Saw? What the fuck?'' Ginny was still half-white and the other half intact, looking at him like an owl mother, looking like she was about to leave the room and go down to the second floor in order to find her newest perverted son.

''I went to see if he needed anything, he was so quiet and... Ah Gin, he was kissing that friend of his'' The man groaned in disapproval, wanting himself to throw himself out of the window or oblivion himself. It was horrible to be sure that your children were growing up.

''Mira?! Oh, Merlin..'' Ginny sat next to her husband, still with rosy cheeks and steady eyes. ''But..'' She started. ''It's better here, than in a dark alley, who knows where... You and I know what we did to escape my parents.''

''Please speak quietly, the Gods can remember that and punish us even more.'' The man fell on the bed, watching the plaster ceiling they had chosen years ago .. 16 years ago.

So many, many nights that he interrupted his parents just because he wanted to sleep among them, or that he liked to sit on Harry's legs because he was his dad, and the times when he asked to hear stories from school... It looked like it had been a century ago.

They had lived there for 16 years, didn't seem to be so long ago that James had been born and Harry held him for the first time.

James was still talking to him, obviously, earlier the boy made a joke about Albus and some other Slytherin.. Robert? Stephan?Harry didn't remember, but it was one of those moments when James gossiped about his brothers, without actually gossiping. As if he just wanted to keep his parents aware of what was going on.

‘‘Should we go talk to him?’’ Harry asked, but not quite sure what he was going to say. Teddy had first told Ginny when he started dating Vic, so the whole situation was easier when he arrived. Did James expect him to help him? That he knew?

‘’We’re going to wait for him to come to us.’’ Ginny said firmly, still looking a little jealous ‘’And he will come eventually.’’

But James took a while.

The next day, he was talking normally at the table, and when the subject became Mira (something recurring, because apparently, Lily loved the girl), James acted naturally and told something they had done or something muggle that she introduced him to.. And then he changed the topic, without even looking ashamed or afraid.

In the days that have passed, every time Harry touched - unpretentiously - on the subject of dating, and how they would cope when Lily started dating, James shrugged and said that Lily would be lucky if someone was able to be with her for more than five minutes, and then, he would do whatever he was doing again.

Even when George asked him about girls on Sunday, James didn't blink. He laughed at the joke, rolled his eyes, continuing the matter normally.

Harry was going crazy.

But finally, a week and a half later, after another day where he went out with Michael and Piper (which Harry doubted), he finally said:

''I'm dating.''

Both were lying in a hammock, it had been a fun day. Harry, James and Albus had modified Lily's treehouse and made it more spacious and comfortable. Then they fixed the owlery, and also built a new home for Sir, their dog.

Albus had gone out with Ginny, they were both going to the market to buy something that Harry didn't understand, and Lily had gone out with Arthur and Molly for a walk.

Harry and James were left. They flew for a while and then settled in the hammocks he had won from Bill a few Christmases ago. The sun was almost setting behind the trees at the back of the house, and they were starting to hear some crickets, birds and even owls, with the silence they were making.

‘’Since when?’’ It was the first thing that came out, his curiosity and fatherly concern dueling in the chest.

But then James had said that, and Harry thought he was unable to hide his expression.

‘’Really dating? I think... Since after Easter.’’ Harry's eyes widened.

‘’Since April?!’’ They were almost in August!

‘’I didn’t want to tell you via Floo or Letter... Won't you ask who it is?’’ He finally sat on the hammock, looking at his son, who - just now - had pink cheeks. James still looked like the same boy that Harry saw growing up, but now he looked much older than he remembered. However, it was still the little boy who cared too much about his dad's opinion of him.

‘’Mira?’’

‘’How do you know?’’ James laughed nasally, sitting up too. ‘’Albus told you? He's a gossip.’’ Oh dear…

‘’Er… Yeah, yeah.’’ He wouldn’t tell the truth, besides, even James knew that Albus wouldn’t tell his parents anything, not if he asked for secrecy. ‘’But then… Do you like her?’’

‘’I wouldn’t be dating if I didn’t like her.’’ James gave him that cheeky smile, loaded with a confidence that neither Ginny nor Harry knew where it came from. Harry raised an eyebrow in response. ‘’It’s a joke, of course I like her.’’ He lay back in the hammock, legs out touching the grass, swinging it from side to side. ‘’I wanted to tell you before, but I thought I was being hasty.’’

‘‘No, it was really Michael and Piper.’’ James shrugged. ‘’I wasn’t going to lie about it, besides, Mira is out of town.’’ Harry smiled at his sincerity.

‘’So those outings with the boys, were you with her?’’

It was quite different to see James talking quite naturally about Mira, and to think about how he had dealt with Ginny in the beginning, so afraid to even hold her hand in front of Molly or Arthur.

The boy started telling about how it had all happened and how he had been an idiot before, and all Harry could do was laugh and listen, marveling at the ease of the facts and how much more comfortable James seemed to be telling the truth.

He thought vaguely of Sirius, of Snape's memory, confident and a smartass, even more so than his dad (as much as James seemed to want to appear extremely confident).

His son had that sparkle in his eyes that Harry had never experienced, telling him about how he felt when he realized he liked her, and how Mira said no when he asked her out (''Can you believe it? But in the end she went out with me and we kissed, so ... who cares?'')

Harry laughed and listened to everything, happy to be able to provide it to James (only Merlin and he knew how much he missed having someone who could hear him talking about Ginny), making some comments and reminding him of the traumatic sex conversation - which seemed much more important now.

He was happy to have listened to Ginny and let James come over when he felt comfortable, even though it was still awkward to think about his little boy, dating.

#Harry Potter #Harry!Dad #Harry James Potter #James Sirius Potter #hp next gen #harry potter next generation #next gen harry potter #hinny headcanon #HP post epilogue

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starryeyes2000 · 3 years

Text

That Night and Morning on Discovery: Chapter 4

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 | Masterlist

Pairing: Christopher Pike x OC

Rating: Teen, mild references to sex

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: A week after the events on New Eden, Discovery's crew is granted much needed leave. Chris' wife joins him on Discovery for a little R&R of their own. But a Captain is never really off-duty and personal time is scarce.

ooooo

That Night on Discovery

They were again alone. But as word spread about Discovery’s imminent departure from the Starbase, Chris’ communicator beeped incessantly – the comms officer on duty, Saru, Michael, Una, the comms officer …

Jerking on a fresh uniform, Chris said impatiently, “This will be faster on the bridge.” Softening his tone, he continued, “I’m sorry. Things are delicate here and the crew still needs extra hand-holding.”

“It’s OK.” Aalin replied as she brushed non-existent lint of his shoulder. “They will calm down in twenty or thirty minutes.” She smiled, “Besides, I miss these old uniforms. The blue matches your eyes. And what I zip now I get to unzip later.”

In response to his happy, mischievous grin she quickly corrected, “The jacket, I meant the jacket.”

Now laughing Chris retorted, “Yeah, sure, of course … you forget how well I know you.”

Aalin mock saluted and in an irreverent tone acknowledged, “Yes sir, whatever you say sir.”

“Damn straight. And I’ll remember that.”

The communicator beeped again. Surrendering to the inevitable, he left.

Later

Chris sat tiredly on the sofa after pouring a drink. “I should extend Discovery’s stay at this base.”

“Is something wrong?” Aalin asked with concern in her voice.

He shook his head, “Not wrong, but the ship sustained damage during the war that needs tended and Lorca ignored a great deal of maintenance work that didn’t support his goals. Then there is the crew …”

After another sip, Chris rested his head on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes.

“They should have extended leave, all of them. Oh, their performance and commitment are above par, but I can see the disillusionment in their eyes. I can hear the fatigue in their voices. The junior officers and enlisted crew are still skittish. Continuing to push them on this high-stakes mission is not in their long-term best interests.”

“Hmmm, I see.”

“You disagree?”

Aalin leaned over and gently massaged his temples. “Yes. I think they need you more than they need shore leave. I saw hints of optimism and hope in Linus’ eyes. That’s changed from the demeanors you described to me during your first week on board.” She remained silent as he finished the drink and absorbed her response.

Then she asked, “Are you ready to talk about Spock’s drawings?”

He nodded.

“As I told you yesterday, there’s been no improvement. Each day he withdraws more, pulls further away from … understanding who he is, where he is, and what is happening around him.” She paused and continued when he didn’t comment. “Spock spends hours writing and drawing. Erasing and rewriting and redrawing. Then erasing and starting the cycle again. He’s also scribbling what appears to be gibberish and sketching what look like star maps on the walls and floor of his room. Periodically he stops and rocks back and forth as he hugs himself and keens.”

“How did I miss this?” Chris asked softly, mostly to himself.

“You didn’t. We didn’t. He went from being a little more withdrawn than usual and requesting leave to suddenly calling for you, incoherent and frantic, and begging for your help. Una and I are trying to retrace his steps after he took leave. Maybe we can find the trigger event.” Aalin watched as he walked to the viewport and gazed out of it, which was Chris-speak for ‘I am trying to process all of this.’ She leaned back on the sofa and waited for an indication he was ready to hear more.

“Did he respond to any of his sister’s communications?”

“He refused all of them. When I asked him to reconsider, he was openly angry. Chris, how many times have you seen Spock express anger? Once, maybe twice? What happened between the two of them?”

“Is that when he broke your wrist?”

“No. That was an accident. He simply didn’t remember his strength.”

Chris turned and stared at her. Aalin was also skilled at translating his silences. She said firmly, “Don’t make this an impossible choice for yourself. I feel safe with him. I am safe with him. He clutched my wrist trying to stay connected to reality, it wasn’t an act of violence. He isn’t capable of harming, intentionally or otherwise. You were right. He needs an advocate there. And Spock asked you to make medical decisions if he was incapacitated. You need first-hand information to do that.”

Aalin activated the diagram of the seven signals. Beside it was another diagram with a series of pictures. “Come,” she beckoned with her hand. He watched as she overlaid seven of the pictures on the signals diagram. “These are not exact matches, but I think the differences are stylistic. Spock is rendering each signal individually, over and over.” She moved other pictures beside each overlay, each was a random collection of numbers and symbols. “I think these are jumbled equations and coordinates.”

“Jumbled?”

She paused to think of an example. “Shuffled, like the sentence ‘see spot run’ written as ‘run spot see’. As if he cannot think or process information in a linear fashion. The equations repeat and are scrambled in different ways. Each of his signal drawings has one or more of these addendums of numbers and symbols.”

“Is he trying to send us a message?”

“Perhaps. But I could be looking at a horse and seeing a zebra.”

Chris was now in Captain mode. “Explain.”

“I’m not a mathematician. And I’m most likely making connections that do not exist. You should have your folks analyze it.”

“Stop qualifying. How many languages do you speak? And you are an accomplished musician. Both require pattern recognition skills. Math is just another language. To you those symbols are a language.” Chris was careful to keep his frustration out of his firm tone of voice, thinking, when is she going to believe she deserves her commission as much as anyone who attended the Academy?

“Perhaps … I think …” she stopped and took a deep breath. “Those are four dimensional equations. I’m sure of it. He’s trying to sequence the signals. Add time. I’ve found three distinct cycles so far. There are likely more.”

“Show me the sequences you have documented.”

The display changed. He eliminated the one that did not start with the asteroid and continue to New Eden. Then said, thinking out loud. “If this proves out, if we could anticipate and arrive before the signal appears … that would be a game changer.” He reached for the communicator. “Find Commander Airiam and have her meet me in conference room two.” He turned to Aalin, “I want you to brief her. She can continue the analysis and update Saru and Michael.”

When they returned to his quarters a light was blinking on the desk. “I see internal comms are back.” Chris remarked as he scanned the message. “No, wait,” he called Aalin back as he finished reading. “It’s not time sensitive.”

He reached for her and moved close. After tilting her chin up, he kissed her, a lingering kiss that wasn’t chaste but also not overly demanding, a kiss of affection and promise.

She leaned into his hand as he cupped her cheek and, smiling down at her, he traced a thumb across her cheekbone. Slowly he unbuttoned her shirt and deftly unhooked the bra and tossed it onto the floor.

Leland would have called him old, boring, and settled, but Chris liked this stage of their relationship. Where they understood the other’s smiles, frowns, tones of voice, and body language. Where they could communicate across a room without saying a word. Where they knew every nuance of the other’s body – which touch comforted, which touch ignited a slow fire, which touch lit a rocket.

He knew if he placed a hand on the side of her waist she would tremble slightly and move closer; and was pleased when she did. He stroked her back with the other, using the soft fabric to enhance the sensuality of his touch. When she tilted her head to the side, he nibbled her ear lobe and then kissed the curve where her neck and shoulder joined.

He continued the delicate kisses down her shoulders and neck and chest. Sometimes directly on skin, sometimes over the silk fabric. The erotic combination of kiss and silk elicited hitched breaths and murmurs. At the same time he walked them to the bed, and once she was settled on the edge, sank down on his knees in front of her.

It was clear she was holding back because of his injury, unsure how to touch him without causing discomfort. She started tugging off his shirt but when he frowned slightly, she stopped, interpreting the look as an expression of pain. He pulled the shirt off and placed her hand over his injured ribs. “Just a twinge. It really does look worse than it feels.”

Her voice was very quiet when she finally replied, “I hope so.” Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her and holding tight; burying her head against his shoulder, tears pooling in her eyes, as she gave into the fear of losing him. He returned the embrace, whispering reassurances.

When the only thing left separating them was the thin silk blouse, Chris gently laid her back and continued kissing and caressing, coaxing her mind and body to that moment he yearned for as much as his own release. The moment where he moved her out of time and wholly into a present that consisted only of his love for her and the pleasure he was giving her.

She sighed “Christopher.”

Aalin only used his full name on two occasions – the other due to a quite different emotion.

Craving intimacy and careful of Chris’s injury, they moved to lay facing one another, limbs entwined, slowly and tenderly building, and then finally collapsing into each other’s arms.

Aalin was on the verge of drifting off to sleep when Chris edged closer and asked, “What did Reno mean about telling Linus he was right?”

“Do you really want to know?” She asked sleepily.

“Yes.”

“Are you absolutely sure? Once I tell you, you can’t unknow it.”

“OK, now you’re waving a red flag. Yes, I want to know.”

Fully awake, she mused, “Intriguing. As in waving a red flag in front of a raging bull. Which makes you, in your own metaphor, a stubborn bull. Is that art imitating reality?”

“Less about the metaphor and more about Reno’s statement please.” Chris prompted in his commander’s voice.

“OK.” She propped her head up on a bended arm asking, “Are you familiar with Saurian culture?”

He shook his head.

“I spent three months there during the treaty negotiations for their entry into the Federation. It is, shall we say, an extremely male dominated society. A culture where … physical attributes are one of the most important qualifications for a leader.” Aalin paused waiting for Chris to catch-up.

And waited. And waited thinking, he has odd moments of naivety, before finally prompting, emphasizing the key word, “Where the measure of a man is literally the measure of a man.”

“I don’t under … oh. Oh. OH.”

“During our conversation in the turbolift Linus remarked that you are an impressive Captain.”

He groaned. “Next time I will heed your advice and not ask questions.”

Her brow creased as she carefully pondered his response. Then her eyes lit up. “Ah-ha.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ah-ha. What I just heard from you is … ‘you are always right’.” Aalin explained in a triumphant tone.

“Not at all what I said.”

“Who is the interpreter in the family?” She asked and then continued without permitting a reply. “That’s right, me. And you admitted you should listen to me, ergo, I am always right.”

Chris chuckled as his hands started to roam over her. “You only resort to Latin when your point is on shaky ground. But I will concede, for now, if it gets us to round two faster. Since I have high expectations to live up to.”

He felt the ship shudder almost imperceptibly. There wasn’t time to issue an alert. There was barely time to calculate the angle and hook his arm around Aalin’s waist before the ship violently quaked and they tumbled onto the floor.

They landed with an audible thud; she on his injured side, the elbow from the arm she instinctively put out to break her fall digging into his broken ribs and winding him. Quickly rolling off, she helped him sit up.

“I’m fine.” He said reflexively unable to keep his voice from sounding strained.

“Damn it, Christopher, what were you thinking?”

When she was vexed with him was the other occasion she used his full name.

#Christopher Pike #Christopher Pike x OC #established relationship #Captain Pike #Captain Pike x OC #Captain Christopher Pike #Captain Christopher Pike x OC #Star Trek #Star Trek: Discovery #Star Trek: Strange New Worlds #christopher pike fanfiction #star trek fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #strange new worlds #Star Trek Discovery #Star Trek Strange New Worlds #star trek fanfic #christopher pike fanfic

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write-nerdy-to-me · 3 years

Text

Who’s Da New King of the Universe?

Ever since I saw the s5b trailer, I’ve been thinking some Thoughts™ about where the show is going, where these characters’ journeys of self-discovery will lead, so on and so forth. Putting aside my Deckerstar fears (which, hello theme of the season — “that’s all they are, fears”), I want to talk about the plot they’ve introduced with the return of God, and more specifically, who I believe will actually “become God.” (Though can an angel just assume this role…? I’m getting ahead of myself.)

For the first time in millennia (possibly ever), God has touched down to earth. This unexpected visit is fraught with tension and unease for a myriad of reasons: Why now? How come God hasn’t reached out before? What does this mean for everyone? What does this mean for Lucifer? Why did God do what he did? Why, why, why…

Already, Lucifer is trying to navigate his new-and-fragile relationship with Chloe and deal with Michael, The First Fearmonger, who is still lingering about. There’s no doubt about the inevitable internal turmoil Lucifer will experience with facing the being he curses the most (besides himself). Then, to really top everything off, God announces his retirement. Like, holy shit, that’s a lot to deal with.

So, what does Lucifer do? Well, in Peak Lucifer Fashion™ totally not avoiding the issues at hand — as there are no issues, obviously — he decides that he’s going to take his father’s place and become G-O-D (or Lod, if you’re feeling fresh. Please don’t call him Lod). He certainly can’t let Michael take their father’s place, that’s for damn sure. But, and this is important, is ruling the universe what Lucifer truly desires?

Lucifer has grown so much since his and Chloe’s first meeting, there’s no denying that. Of course, he’s not without slip-ups, just as anyone else isn’t, but he’s trying and that’s what matters. Before, everything he did was ultimately flipping the bird to his dad (but also to himself, but that’s some other shit), yet he willingly, selflessly returned to the place he vowed to never step foot in — just to protect Chloe, to protect humanity. He had no idea when he would be able to return, if he would even be able to. Would he ever get to see Chloe again? I’m sure the question haunted him for those thousands of years, as there’s no way he’d believe they’d reunite in hell.

Anyway, deeper Lucifer analysis aside, I just… don’t see him actually wanting the responsibility the role of God brings. Ruling hell, being a king, was always a job that was put on him and he met it great reluctance, if not outright hostility. “It was a job, Detective. Something I was forced to do.” Lucifer doesn’t have any desire to rule demons — he was all for the demons themselves to become the new king, just so he didn’t have to go back — but... Lucifer will be fine and dandy to rule... well, everything? Like, if he hates being the king of hell, what’s to say he’s even going to find fulfillment in being Master of the Universe? Lucifer wants to experience humanity, to help them to realize their deepest desires — and, hopefully, understand his own in the process. I believe that he’s latching onto this idea of entering Godhood because he’s avoiding the issues in front of him: Chloe asked him if he loves her back, and he never gave her an answer. He’s distracting himself, doing something dramatic as he’s wont to do — just to realize that he’s right where he’s supposed to be. (Chloe was just getting used to being in love with Thee Devil™, and now he’s... God? Mm, fancy that. The devil doth protest too much, methinks.) So, what does Lucifer want? Well, that’s a whole other convo, which I’m planning to get into later.

Now we have the question: Who is fit to be God?

It’s rather obvious when you think about it. Who is most often ought out, prayed to for help? For guidance?

Amenadiel is known for his strength, his unwavering loyalty, his compassion, and his love for humanity. He didn’t come by the last two easily by any means. Before, he held humanity at a distance by slowing down time and visiting earth without it knowing. It was after staying and experiencing humanity that he began to feel a change in himself. Since his journey of self-discovery, he’s learned that separating himself from people is not what he wants. He’s come to love humanity, and so, let go of the walls that kept him apart. “Look, I wasted so much time keeping them at bay, looking down on them for millennia when they have so much to offer. I’m only now just realizing how lucky that we are that we actually get a chance to connect with them. So I say put up your sign: ‘Open for business. Humanity, come on in.’”

The nuns felt God’s love stronger than ever reflected back at them in the presence of Amenadiel. This had never happened to him before and it couldn’t have happened because he wasn’t ready. After losing his wings, becoming human himself, experiencing loss, he’s closer to humanity than he’s ever been. He’s even a father now, and he finds fulfillment in just being there for Charlie; he doesn’t need anything else. Whereas Lucifer says he’s ~practicing his dad jokes, but has never been too terribly fond of offspring — with the Detective’s being the exception — and has shown no inclination for fatherhood, except, y’know, now that Godhood is dangling in front of his face like the shiny distraction it is. There are the few instances where he’s seen drinking out of the #1 Dad mug, which I think was foreshadowing for God’s arrival and this subsequent idea of Lucifer’s to be God, more than anything. There’s more to being a father than the puns, though. Between these two, I think it’s pretty self-evident who is more fit to carry the responsibility of the universe.

I think, perhaps, Amenadiel will take the universal throne, and Lucifer will continue as he has by guiding souls to their deepest desires. It will be another partnership, the brothers working together instead of against one another — just as they did to light the flaming sword. Someone for strength, someone for honesty. (Who knows, maybe Michael will be in charge of hell — it would either have to be something he’s bound to, or of his own free will. I mean, ~what do you truly fear~ definitely vibes more with the “you fuel your own hell experience with your guilt” thing.)

And now, some visuals and dialogue that make my brain go brrr.

“Oh well, thanks for nothing.” “Listen, I really wish I could help you find Chloe, but I have faith in you, brother.”

“And what do you need?” “I think I just need someone to hold my hand and tell me everything’s going to be okay.” “I promise you, Linda. Everything is going to be okay.”

“You couldn’t wait to tell everyone up there how all of God’s children create their own fate, how we decide where we belong.”

“I don’t think it’s God’s job to stop the bad. I actually think he’s there to give us the strength to get through it.”

God, thy name is Amenadiel.

tl;dr

I believe s5b will not end with Lucifer as G-O-D, but with Amenadiel. If I haven't convinced you to come over to the Amenadiel as God side, what if I told you that the combined name is Godadiel. God -> Dad -> Amenadiel.

The dots? Connected. The code? Cracked. My sanity? Gone.

#this is prolly the most sensible post i've ever made #who is she??#where are the feral ramblings??#lucifer spoilers #lucifer speculation #lucifer 5b #lucifer s5b #lucifer s5 #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar #amenadiel #michael #lucifer meta fodder #untamed meta #my meta #jeez how many times can i write lucifer lmao #i'm starting to feel like michael: ''lucifer! lucifer! lucifer!''#long post

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Australian Love Affair

Request: Based on that tiktok video @itjustkindahappenedreally sent me where the guys find out you’re dating Luke.

Word Count: ~2k

And away, and away we go!

When you had first met the boys, the inevitable question of if you had a partner was asked almost as soon as pleasantries were exchanged.

“So? You seeing anyone?” Calum asked. “Boyfriend? Girlfriend? That sort of thing?”

You laughed politely at the brown-eyed boy while his friends muttered the disapproval cry of “Dude…” under their breath. “Nope. Single,” you answered. “Happily so,” you added as an afterthought. You had just met these men, and while you assumed they were good enough sorts given that two of them were dating two of your friends, you weren’t interested in dating people you barely knew.

“Oh, thank God!” Calum laughed in relief. “Someone on my side, finally.”

“Hey!” the other three said in protest, the tallest of the lot specifically affronted. “I’m single, too,” Luke pouted, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Yeah, and you’re bloody miserable about it,” Calum snorted with an eye roll. “I need someone who’s happy being single.”

“Well your search is over,” you joked, bowing dramatically. “Y/N, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

That earned a round of laughs, and a few murmured, “Glad to meet ya,”s before the group disbanded, Ashton and Michael in search of their girlfriends, and Calum in search of a drink.

“You don’t have to hang around the new kid if you don’t want,” you told Luke with a soft smile. “Like it’s a big party. If you got… I dunno… other people to say hi to, or something, that’s cool.”

One of his hands tugged at a blonde curl along the nape of his neck. “Kinda wanted to ask you something first, if that’s alright?”

You twisted your wrist in a motion of encouraging him to continue. “Go ahead.”

“Are you happily single in that you’re not looking to date? Or happily single, but you’d go on a date if you got asked?”

You brought a finger to your lips in thought. “Hmm… I guess it depends on who was asking.”

“Me?”

“Oh, Luke…”

“It’s fine!” he rushed. “I mean… no harm, no foul, right?”

“Right. And sorry. I just… don’t date people I don’t really know.”

“Yep. Totally cool. Friends?”

“Friends,” you nodded, shaking his offered hand.

A year later found you and Luke hanging out. “So, what are you in the mood to do today?” he asked from where he was lying across your couch.

“I dunno,” you called out from the kitchen as you grabbed drinks. “Something stupid?”

“I’m stupid, do me.”

You choked on your sip, stalling in the archway that separated your kitchen from your living room. “I- What?”

The blue eyes went wide, and his cheeks flushed, as Luke shot straight up into a sitting position. “I-I-” he stammered, “didn’t mean to say that out loud. Was a joke…”

“Mmm,” you said, recovering in the brief moment it took you to set his drink down in front of him. “Pity. So, you don’t fancy me anymore?”

“I mean… I’ve always fancied you. But you said you don’t date people you don’t know.”

“Well… I know you now.”

“Well… would you maybe wanna go on a date sometime?”

“I’m free today,” you pointed out.

“What a coincidence, so am I,” Luke giggled. “C’mon, let’s go then.”

“Wait,” you said, putting a hand on his arm.

“Let me guess, you also don’t tell anyone you’re seeing someone until it’s serious, and since this is just a date, you’d rather I didn’t shout this from the rooftops.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “You wanna shout this from the rooftops?”

“Not if you don’t want me to, I don’t. Look, I’m not gonna make you feel bad for having hesitations, or wanting to take things slow. I’m fine with that. We can tell as few, or as many people we like about us when there’s something worth telling. Not that this isn’t worth telling! But, I-”

“Luke,” you interrupted. “You’re doing that thing where you ramble when you’re nervous.”

“Shit, sorry. Just-”

“I know. And thanks. C’mon, let’s go have that date.”

~~~

You chuckled quietly to yourself, catching Luke’s eye from across the room. He winked and you rolled your eyes, sparing your phone one last glance before locking the screen. “Oooo!” Crystal’s voice sounded next to you. “Got a secret admirer you wanna tell us about?”

You scoffed. “Pfft. Secret admirer. Yeah, right.”

“Mmm, so you just giggle at your phone all the time?” she teased. “C’mon, Y/N. I know how you look when you’re crushing on someone.”

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, your entire face growing warm.

“‘Nothing’ aka Y/N for ‘I’m totally smitten, but we haven’t labeled anything, so I’m playing indifferent,’” Kaykay chimed in.

“You know what? Just for that comment, I’m leaving now.”

“Have fun with lover boy!” they taunted making kissy faces at you.

“Lover boy?” Luke asked when he got to your place ten minutes after you did. “Do the girls know?”

“No. Well, they think I’m seeing someone. But they don’t have any proof, much less any idea that it’s you.”

“Cool…”

You frowned. “That’s not a very convincing response.”

He gave a small shake of his head, like he was pushing back whatever he’d been thinking. “It’s nothing. C’mon. Let’s go to bed.”

You interlinked your fingers with his, but when he took a step forward, you didn’t follow. “No. What is it? What’s on that pretty mind of yours?”

“I- We’ve been doing this for like two months now. And I get that we’re still figuring shit out. And that you don’t like telling people that you’re seeing someone until you slap that label on it because of your past experiences. But, I’ve been used in the past. Kept a secret. And that’s not something I’d like to repeat. So, yeah. That’s where I’m at.”

“At the point where you want to label this? Or at the point where you want to tell people you’re seeing someone?”

“Mostly the second one. But, maybe the first one, too? So, we don’t have to time our exits from our friends.”

You rubbed your thumbs over the backs of his hands in soothing circles. “Yeah. Yeah, we could do that.”

He brightened. “Cool! But, um… not right this second. Need to do something light-hearted first. Too much seriousness all at once-”

“Stresses you out. I know,” you smiled up at him.

“You’re fuckin’ great, you know that?”

“Yeah. But I’m always open to hearing it again.”

Luke pressed a swift kiss to the top of your head. “The fuckin’ greatest.”

~~~

Your phone ringing shrilly had you both sitting bolt upright in bed. “Who is it?” Luke asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“Cal.”

“Well go ahead and answer it.”

“It’s a FaceTime…”

“Shit!” Luke laid flat back down in bed, pulling the blankets up over his head. “Okay,” his muffled voice called out. “Go ahead.”

You giggled, and hit accept, your phone screen splitting into 4 screens as Calum’s face appeared on it, along with Ashton’s and Michael’s.

“See? I told ya Y/N was still asleep,” Michael grumbled.

“It’s almost fuckin’ noon!” Ashton protested.

“Oh, shut up, and add Luke to the call.”

“No!” you blurted. “I- I mean… what’s up guys?”

“We had a question for ya,” Calum said. “Cuz they’re nosy little shits.”

While Ashton and Michael both pulled faces of being offended, you laughed. “What’s the question?”

“Crystal and Kaykay mentioned you were on your phone before you left last night,” Michael started.

“So we were just curious…” Ashton added.

“You bailing on being the only other single person?” Calum finished.

“You’re not the only other single person,” you pointed out.

Calum scoffed. “Oh, you mean Luke? Nah. That boy’s been bit by the lovebug. Which is great for him. Single life isn’t his style. But damn… I thought what we had was special, Y/N.”

“You were the chosen one!” Michael cackled.

“It was said you would mock the lovebirds, not join them!” Ashton jumped in on the joke.

“Oh, my God,” you giggled while you felt the blankets shake beside you with Luke’s stifled laughter. “But yeah. To answer your question. Yeah, I’m seeing someone. Sorry, Cal.”

Calum’s eyes narrowed briefly. “I’ll forgive you, on one condition.”

“And what condition’s that?”

“Tell us who it is.”

“Wow, way to make a real case for yourself. I think I’ll take being unforgiven.”

“Wow…” they all deadpanned. “Gonna do me like that?” Calum muttered in fake disbelief. “Just keep breaking my heart like that?”

“That would require you to have a heart first.”

“Ouch!” Calum gasped, while Michael mimicked in his best videogame voice “Finish him!” which sent Ashton giggling.

Ashton giggling made you giggle. “Wait, wait, back up a second. You said Luke was seeing somebody? And he didn’t tell us? Fuckin’ rude.”

“Yeah! Sounds like somebody else we know. How bout this? We get Luke on here to tell us who he’s seeing, and you can tell us who you’re seeing, too. Then it’s all out in the open about how you both ditched me for the dark side,” Calum tried to negotiate again.

“Aw, c’mon. Is it really necessary to drag Luke into this? I mean, he’ll tell us when he’s ready to tell us, ri-” you scrambled to diffuse, but got cut off when Luke’s phone started ringing on your nightstand.

“Shh, it’s ringing,” Ashton shushed, waving his hand.

“Wait… I can hear it…” Michael said, bringing his phone closer to his face to listen better.

“Yeah, me too,” Calum nodded, before his eyes went wide with realization. “Y/N… is Luke there?”

“What? Why would he be at Y- OH! OH shit!” Michael yelled as the pieces clicked in his head.

“Luke! Answer your bloody phone!” Ashton scolded.

“I don’t think Ash has figured it out yet,” Calum muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Me neither,” Michael said with a pity shake of his head.

“Oh, I did. Lukey! Come out and plaaaaaay!” Ashton taunted.

Beside you, the blankets flipped back and Luke’s head popped into view. “Hey, guys,” he greeted sheepishly.

“When were you gonna tell us, mate?” Michael asked, his question directed at Luke.

“When there was something worth telling.”

“Two months of you being the happiest we’ve ever seen you isn’t ‘worth telling’?”

“You’ve been at your happiest with me?” you asked in a small voice.

Luke chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. “Course I have,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Aw! You’re gonna make me sick!” Calum cooed sweetly.

“What Cal means to say,” Ashton interjected, “is that we’re really happy for you guys.”

“Yeah. And if we did something that made you think you couldn’t tell us, we’re sorry,” Michael apologized.

“It wasn’t anything you guys, or Luke did,” you stepped back in. “It was me. It takes a lot for me to develop the trust where I’m comfortable saying I’m in a relationship.”

“Hey, you don’t gotta explain yourself to anyone, Y/N,” Calum told you. “We were just messing with you. And we’re glad you feel comfortable enough to tell us. Even though we did kinda force it out of you… in our defense, we didn’t know Luke was with you.”

You laughed. “It’s fine, guys. We were gonna tell you in a few days anyhow.”

“Alright,” Michael cut in. “Serious question. You two make each other happy?”

You and Luke nodded. “Very much so, yeah.”

“Then that’s all that matters. We’ll uh… leave now and let you get back to your morning.”

“It’s past noon!” Ashton screeched.

“Oh, shut up, and go make another pot of coffee,” Calum told him.

“I will! Anybody want some?”

“I’m down,” Luke grinned at Ashton.

“You know how to get in. Cal? Mike?”

“Only if food is involved. You know I don’t drink coffee,” Michael listed his conditions.

“Deal. Cal?”

“Ah, fuck it. Yeah, I’m in.”

“Whoohoo! Brunch at Ash’s!” you cheered.

“Y/N, you only get brunch if you bring that new guy you’ve been seeing,” Ashton joked playfully.

“I think I can arrange that,” you giggled, snuggling into Luke.

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996 @creator-appreciator @philthepegacorn @myfavfanficsever @cxddlyash @youngblood199456 @stormrider505 @tarltongrl96 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @hoodhoran @i-like-5sos

#australian love affair #luke hemmings #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings x reader #5sos #if you dont get the various jokes/references i sprinkled throughout this puppy congrats! youre beyond saving...#calpal irwin

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wickedmilo · 2 years

Photo

COULD HAVE, SHOULD HAVE | MILO SOLO

PLACE: Teeth TIMING: A week after Blood Balance (a long time ago now) SUMMARY: Milo drinks blood from a donor for the very first time, and is presented with an unexpected opportunity CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug abuse, addiction

Milo knew there would never be words to describe what he was feeling. If any of the friends he had not predisposed to drinking blood ever asked him to break down the sensation, he genuinely wouldn’t be able to, at least not in a way that did it justice. Until five minutes ago he had been awkward, and bumbling. Hyperaware of Murphy waiting in the lobby for him, intent on giving him privacy the moment she was sure he was safe to leave alone. The last time he had done this, he had been feral, incapable of truly remembering the experience, and maybe that was for the best. Somebody had died. It felt wrong to look back and dwell on how satisfying the taste of their blood might have been. Only this woman was willing, this woman had consented. Jeez, she was even getting paid, and the knowledge alleviated any of his lingering guilt. She had taken the time to assure him herself, picking up on his initial hesitation, and after a little prompting, each fresh mouthful of blood sent a shiver down his spine. Knowing he was safe, knowing Murphy was with him, and there were staff members ready to keep the patrons in check, were comforts that only added to the experience.

He had been nervous upon arriving at Teeth, outwardly terrified of losing control. But losing control no longer felt like a possibility. He was grateful Murphy had forced him to drink so much bagged blood in preparation. Her ability to plan ahead meant he was able to relax. It meant he was able to begin planning ahead himself. He knew he would inevitably return, knew this arrangement was going to become yet another one of his vices. But hopefully a productive vice, a vice that would teach him what he had initially been hoping to learn; self control, and along with that, a confidence in his ability to keep himself grounded. Drinking from a mug was fine, but almost nothing could compare to this. To soft, warm skin. To rich coppery blood, smooth, and thick as it flowed from the vein. No longer feeling vulnerable, or uneasy, when there was a sudden knock on the door to his booth, he surprised himself by lowering the donor’s wrist. Withdrawing from her, he glanced up at the member of staff letting himself into the private space. The man was dressed in an expensive suit, and looked old enough to be his father, which made him curious to know how he had come to work somewhere so unusual. The name tag pinned to his lapel read Michael.

“Ah, sorry to interrupt.” Michael apologised, sounding less than sincere despite his best efforts. He was scanning information on the screen of an ipad as he spoke, too distracted to offer his full attention. “I’ve been sent to let our customers know we just received an order of Nectar.”

Despite the man’s warm, and welcoming demeanour, Milo felt as though the breath had been stolen from his lungs. He was never prepared to hear the name of the drug responsible for his death, but here, in this setting, it was a particularly difficult thing to process. The high of his fresh feed drained rapidly from his body, and after perhaps a moment too long, he nodded to show he understood.

Michael eyed him, clearly noticing his shock, but ultimately made no effort to formally acknowledge it. Milo supposed when you worked in a place like Teeth it was always better to avoid asking questions. “If you’d like to use Nectar in your session here today, we can arrange a fresh donor for you now… just come and find us at the front desk, okay?”

Milo opened his mouth to respond, but Michael was already leaving, tapping on his ipad as he let the door swing shut behind him. The silence that followed his exit was deafening, punctuated only by the heartbeat of his donor. He had always been curious about Nectar. He would be lying if he tried to claim otherwise. He had even briefly considered seeking it out, but perhaps in an attempt to prove he was better than his sire, decided against the idea, making a begrudging effort to avoid the drug instead. It was relatively easy to do when he wasn’t being encouraged to try it, but it had essentially just been thrown into his lap. Looking around at the velvet curtains, plush sofas, and decorative cushions, he reminded himself of what his donor had told him at the very start of their session. She was safe, Teeth was dedicated to creating an environment in which humans, and vampires could coexist. There was nowhere better to give into what he was, and maybe that was true for Nectar too.

His conflicting emotions creating a storm inside his chest, he tried to address the billion questions that were steadily beginning to overwhelm him. If he didn’t take it here, what if it became too easy? What if somebody offered it to him? Or the opportunity appeared without warning and he found himself unable to turn it down? Who would he be putting in danger? Would he be able to stop the events of his death from repeating? He couldn’t remember the details of his murder, but he could remember thinking Nectar gave the most incredible high. He longed to feel that way again, to know whether it had been worth the stupid risk he had taken with his beating heart, and his human life. Realistically, he shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. Not considering his history with the drug, the trauma he so often related it to. Not considering the fact that he was still in the process of learning control. Not with Murphy outside, not with so much blood in his system. Not now. But maybe another time? Maybe when he came back alone with nobody to tell him no. With nobody to judge him for his wavering resolve. Shouldn’t, and couldn’t were two very different things. He knew he shouldn’t, that much was probably obvious to anyone. But he could… couldn’t he?

#milo solo #milo #solo #addiction tw #drug tw

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taehyungsgrowl · 3 years

Note

could you write something angsty with michael or duncan (or both 👀) using “was this all just a game for you?”

y’all know i love making duncan sad so i’m going w my baby dunc for this one just look at him... baby.

like always... italics indicate a memory/time jump i hope that makes sense

warnings: angst, oral (female receiving)

word count: 1,532

Duncan couldn’t look at her. Where he once saw love in her eyes all he could see was a betrayal. Lies. Empty promises.

“What don’t I understand, Y/N? Hm?” he pushed his hair back as he paced back and forth. He was so angry, he thought he was vibrating from it.

“Duncan,” she pleaded.

“Don’t!” he snapped, “Just don’t even fucking bother.”

“How did you find out?” her eyes dropped to her hand - still adorned with the hefty diamond that promised a life full of love with Duncan.

Duncan’s weight shifted on the bed as he rolled on top of her. His bare chest pressed against her. Everything was so quiet. The back of his hand ran down her cheek, caressing it softly, ending the soft touch by grabbing her chin and tilting it up to kiss her.

“You haven’t taken it back yet have you?” he chuckled, searching for her hand. His thumb ran over the ring - still making sure it was secured on her hand.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Of course not,” she pecked his lips, “I love you,”

“I....” Duncan drew out the word, moving his lips down to her jaw, followed by her back, “love....” he kissed along her collarbones, “you...”

He continued to trail kisses down her bare torso, slowly inching lower and lower. Duncan’s hand found its way between her thighs, feeling her arousal coat his fingers. He smiled into her tummy as he continued his wet trail of kisses.

“Mrs...” he chuckled, his breath tickling her skin. He kissed her pussy, looking up at her through his dark lashes.

“Mmm, not yet,” she laughed easily. The sound that could make even Duncan’s heaviest days feel a million times lighter.

“Not yet,” he repeated, as he moved his lips to her inner thighs, smirking when he noticed her squirming from the anticipation. His words held a double meaning. “But I can’t wait until the day you become my wife.”

And with those words he dipped her head between her thighs and licked down her slit, not letting her get another word in. Whatever thought she had turned to mush as she gave in to the sensation of his tongue on her pussy.

Her fingers found themselves tugging on to Duncan’s locks - her bright diamond a sharp contrast to his dark hair.

“How did I find out?” he barked out a humorless laugh. Beyond the point of heartbreak - Duncan was furious.

“That’s what you decide to go with.. I can’t fucking believe you.” he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Y/N knew it was his telltale for how upset he was. She felt so small. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she thought. She fucked up and knew nothing she said could make it right.

“But you want to know how I knew,” the word tasted bitter in his mouth, “You were reckless, Y/N” his voice echoed through the kitchen they stood in. “They saw you,” he shrugged, referencing the story his friends shared of seeing her with another man. “Couldn’t even have been a discreet enough whore and not been caught,” the venom spilled out of his mouth with that one. But he was too angry to care. Even when she winced at the word, he couldn’t bring himself to take it back.

Duncan’s oldest friend and colleague stood at the door to his office. “Duncan, do you have a moment?”

“Yeah, come on in,” Duncan closed his laptop as his friend closed the door behind him and took a seat across from Duncan.

“So, what’s up?” Duncan tidied up the papers on his desk.

His friend sighed, “Listen,” he looked so nervous - but he knew it needed to be said, “I guess there's no easy way to say this so I’m just going to say it.”

“Woah,” Duncan laughed easily, not taking the gravity of his friends tone, “I’m happily taken,” he joked.

His friend winced - did anyone really enjoy being the bearer of bad news?

“Duncan, this is serious,” he sighed heavily. “I think Y/N is cheating on you.”

Duncan’s smirk dropped from his face. “You’re being ridiculous. Why would you say that?” Duncan frowned.

“I wish I didn’t have to tell you, man. Eric and I were at lunch and I saw her! She kissed another man before they had lunch a few tables away. And,” he met Duncan’s eyes, “They walked into the hotel together. This was maybe 40 minutes ago - you can check if don’t believe me. Or talk to her, I don’t know! I just... couldn’t go on without telling you what I saw.”

Duncan felt like he was frozen.

“Dunc?”

His felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t know how to explain it, but - his instincts told him his friend was telling the truth.

Duncan opened his laptop, pulling up the Find my iPhone feature. The loading circle seemed to be taunting him as it turned and turned, pin pointing Y/N’s location.

Sure enough, she was at the hotel his friend said.

In an angry fit, he pushed the papers off his desk. There had to be an explanation.

“Duncan..”

“I just need a fucking minute!”

He nodded and left Duncan alone.

Duncan started to call. And text. And call again.

Baby, pls call me Call me Y/N?

Not one response.

He couldn’t be at the office anymore with his mind swirling with ideas.

He went home and waited.

Fuck, Y/N thought, seeing Duncan’s car. He was never home this early. She looked in the rearview mirror, making sure her makeup looked okay before she headed inside.

“Hey, babe! You’re home early! I just saw your messages. I was thinking we could go to dinner out in Midtown tonight?” she chattered along, putting her things away, not once looking directly at Duncan.

It wasn’t until she felt the utter stillness of the room that she realized something was wrong.

The look on his face said it all.

He knows.

Her heart dropped to her stomach.

“Babe? Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know Y/N. Is it?” his deep stare made her feel such shame. “Where were you? And for the love of god, please don’t lie to me.”

Tears started to fall down her face. She knew he knew.

“I’m sorry.” she cried.

“For what?” his teeth were clenched now.

“Don’t make me say it.” she pleaded. She reached out to touch him, but he flinched away.

“For godsake, Y/N!” he hung his head low, “Why? Why did you? Was I not enough? I fucking trusted you! I love -” he couldn’t finish his words.

“You don’t understand!” she cried.

“Was this just a game to you?” She’d never seen Duncan look at her that way. Disgust colored his tone, “Find some rich sucker to marry you while you continued to screw around?” He shook his head.

“You know it’s not like that, Duncan. I love you.”

“No, Y/N. I don’t know what it’s like because instead of explaining shit you decide to ask how I found out?” Duncan sneered, “Fuck you.”

“If you loved me you wouldn’t have done what you can’t even bring yourself to say,” he continued. “Get out. Two years of us - for nothing. I hope he was worth it, for your sake.”

Duncan stormed off to the guest room not wanting to be near her or the room that held warm memories of them. He couldn’t bring himself to lie down or keep still. He waited. Impatiently, but he waited.

Waited for her to knock on the door - to tell him it was just a joke gone wrong - or at the very least tell him why.

But the knock on the door never came.

He could hear her shuffling around. Every time he heard her sob, he fought himself from running out to hold her. He was too angry. Too hurt.

He tired himself out from crying and eventually fell asleep on the unfamiliar bed.

When he woke again, it was only a quarter past 1:00 AM. The house felt still.

He walked out to see if she were sleeping. The light in the kitchen was still on, but everything else was dark.

Sitting on the counter, he found her ring, the ring of promises he made to her, sitting neatly on top of a blush colored paper, scrawled with her handwriting.

I owe you an explanation - one that’s not just written down. I never meant to hurt you. It was never supposed to be like this. I love you.

Staying with my mom for a few days. Call me. xo

He took the ring in between two fingers recalling the dozens of shops, both vintage and new, he visited in search of the perfect one for her. Something delicate, but strong. Something beautiful that would last forever.

Something he thought represented them.

He dropped the ring on the counter again and traced the words on the paper. Duncan was too tired to think. He was too tired to know if he would call. He found himself on his couch, falling asleep mourning what he’d lost.

okay so i’ve had some writers block for a while and!!! ive been reading old request for some inspiration and this one had me typing away :)

so i hope you guys like it AND i hope it makes sense? sometimes i worry that my time jumps / memories don't translate well when they're typed and that they only make sense in my head?fvjnsrkv

anyway... tagging a few people who are regularly on my taglist + a few that interacted w my post!

@xavierplympton @desertsunflower00 @royalblueviper @dailylangdon @langdonswhoreprobably@rpwithjayn @xavierplymptonstan @spoo-per @wickedlangdon @leatherduncan @plsfuckmelangdon @bitchchatter @beautyiswithinchaos @blakewaterxx @littledemondani @little-grunge-flowerz @lovelylangdonx @sexwon131 @fckinsupreme @prophecy-is-inevitable @shenevertricks1831 @kissme-throughthephone @shyvirgoanon

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd angst #duncan shepherd smut #cody fern #hoc #Anonymous

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everamazingfe · 3 years

Text

The Kumbaya Approach

Fic Summary: Trevor is the captain of his own ship and is in need of a new pilot when his old one abandons the crew. Fortunately, his trusty engineer Gavin knows of a good one. Unfortunately, the cargo he brings along with him is a little more dangerous than they anticipated.

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Words: 15113 Pairings: Michael/Jeremy, Trevor/Alfredo Warnings: Mild descriptions of violence and blood

Notes: This was written for the Secret Springfairy fic exchange in the @rtwritingcommunity discord for @doolray! This was a ton of fun to write, I hope you enjoy, and big thanks to @fornhaus for proofreading/editing! Check the source for a link to read it on A 0 3!

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“What do you mean you quit?”

“I mean I quit. I’m done with this bucket of bolts. Every day there’s a new problem, a new critical failure, a new busted part, and I’m sick of it! What kind of commander can’t get a handle on his own ship?”

“Hey! Those problems aren’t my fault, it’s the-”

“-The ship’s AI, right. Heard that one a thousand times. But they’re part of the crew, too. Which means they’re your responsibility. And if you can’t keep them under control and keep your ship in shape, I’m out of here at the next port.”

The arguments had gone on like this for several days, nearly a week now, and it was the same thing every time. Jeremy would yell about how he was sick of being on the ship and lay down blame for its problems, and Trevor would defend himself against the barrage of insults instead of trying to change the other’s mind. He knew that was a futile effort, and he knew better than to fight losing battles.

The pair were silent for a long time, staring each other down. Jeremy was looking for a reason to get more wound up, to start yelling all over again. Telling off his commander for mistakes that everyone had seemingly let slide for far too long felt really good, and he wanted to keep going. Meanwhile, Trevor was calming down and calculating his next move very carefully. It was fine if his crew wanted to question his authority, they did it plenty and he never took it personally. But as far as he was concerned, Jeremy was no longer crew and no longer privy to that same mercy. After all, he’d quit.

“Fine. You can empty your quarters out and sleep in the observation deck, then. You’re no longer a member of this crew, so you no longer get to stay in crew cabins,” he stated after a few long moments, his tone cold.

Jeremy blinked in surprise, not expecting Trevor to actually do anything about it. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me. You don’t get a room anymore, those are reserved for the crew. If you’re unhappy with that arrangement, I can tell Lindsay to get the airlock open for you.”

“You know... If I leave, Michael’s gonna go with me. He goes where I go,” he reminded, though he was no longer yelling confidently. He was stumbling and faltering. Trevor had called his bluff effectively, and it was hard to keep up steam.

“Then you can help each other clean out your quarters and keep each other warm on the deck,” he responded, shrugging casually. “Finding a new science officer will be just as easy as finding a new pilot.”

“And just how do you expect to get to the next port safely?”

Trevor chuckled softly, smiling. “Lindsay is more than equipped with satisfactory navigational skills, isn’t that right Linds?”

The comms system beeped to life, and a cheerful voice was heard over the speakers. “That’s right, Commander! Jack’s charting us a course as we speak. We’ll be on our way shortly.”

----------------------------------------------------

There was some truth to Lindsay’s words. They were equipped with the best-in-the-market autopilot functionality, but Jack was not charting a course. The entirety of the crew was gathered around a large monitor in the communications bay, watching the whole ordeal unfold through Lindsay’s eyes. There were bets on how it would end. Most of the money was on it ending in blows at this point.

“Like hell I’m going with him!” Michael shouted, waving his hands and scoffing in disbelief as he looked at the screen. “I’m not idiot enough to throw away a good job when I’ve got it. I mean, sure the place is a shithole, no offense Linds-”

“None taken.”

“-But like… It’s not like we have to do anything. If I try and find another crew, they may make me do actual work! Can you imagine? I am not going anywhere.”

“I don’t think he’s going to give you a choice,” Jack said from beside him, the others all nodding in agreement. “I think you’re gonna have to go with him.”

Michael huffed, rolling his eyes and turning up the volume on the terminal. “If there’s one thing you fuckers should’ve learned about me right now, it’s this: I don’t have to do shit. Especially not for my boyfriend.”

----------------------------------------------------

Jeremy grumbled to himself as he packed up his things. Michael was, of course, no help. He just stood in the doorway and spectated, making snide remarks when he saw fit.

“You know, I’d really appreciate it if you could be on my side with this,” Jeremy said, balling up a shirt and throwing it at him. “Or at the very least, help me pack.”

Michael laughed, knocking away the shirt before it hit him in the face. “Fuck no, you dug this hole yourself. I’m not the moron who quit.”

“This place is a shithole and you know it.”

“Yeah, but you never have to fix any of it! You just have to sit there in your comfy pilot chair and wait for Gavin to do it.” Had Michael always been a little jealous of his boyfriend’s job? A little bit. The med bay was cold and unwelcoming, but the cockpit was cushy and warm. Plus, with Lindsay on board, the pilot didn’t really have to do much at all unless their systems went down. Which, to be fair, did happen a lot. “You pilots are always so snooty. You knew what you were getting into when you took this gig, you can’t expect it to be like the Ritz now.”

“Just fucking go,” Jeremy muttered, swiping up the last of his clothes from the floor. “Don’t even bother visiting, either.” The comment hurt them both, but that didn’t make him mean it any less. He didn’t want Michael to visit, he wanted him to stay at the port with him.

The other just laughed heartily and shook his head, turning on his heel to leave. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

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The observation deck was, as it always was, cold and lonely. The warm blankets and fluffy pillows that were on his bed were technically part of the quarters he had previously taken residence in, so all Jeremy had to sleep on was the metal floor, cushioned by his clothing and a few other soft belongings. The things that he owned that were unfit for laying on were stacked around him. The observation deck’s window was huge, and as he laid there unable to sleep, the vastness of space no longer brought him the same comfort it had when he was in the pilot’s seat.

“Hey, Lindsay?”

The comms beeped to life once more. “Yes, Jeremy?”

“Am I making a mistake?” He asked, sitting up and leaning back against the stack.

There were a few long seconds of contemplative silence before they spoke again. “Yeah, you are. A huge one, I’d say.”

“That’s not really comforting... I don’t suppose Trevor would be willing to… Reconsider?”

“No, I don’t think so. You insulted the ship. The commander takes that personally.” Lindsay did too, but they figured that Jeremy already felt guilty enough without them piling on as well.

“C’mon, you know I didn’t mean it.”

“Do I, though? Because I really don’t think I do,” they stated. Maybe Jeremy didn’t feel as guilty as they had hoped, so their politeness parameters were temporarily suspended. “This is a ship made from stolen parts, what do you expect? For everything to run perfectly all the time? If you wanted that, you should’ve signed up for one of the legal spacefarers out there,” they quipped. If they had eyes, they would have rolled them.

Jeremy sighed heavily, sinking down the wall and burying his face in his hands. Maybe it wasn’t too late to take Trevor up on that airlock offer, he was sure he’d be happy to oblige.

“Is Michael going with you?” Lindsay asked after a few minutes, breaking the silence and sounding innocent enough. Jeremy couldn’t tell whether they wanted a yes or a no, but there was no use lying to them. They’d seen Jeremy packing alone, his quarters empty while Michael’s were still very much full.

“No,” he responded, shaking his head, “No, he’s not. He’s gonna be staying on board.”

“Oh, good. I like him. I’d be sad if he left.”

“But you’re not sad that I’m leaving?” There was no response to his words, just the comms beeping to signal that Lindsay wouldn’t be answering more of his questions. Jeremy sighed again and lowered his hands, staring back out at the stars. “I don’t even think that Michael’s sad that I’m leaving,” he muttered to himself, laying back down in his pile of clothes and shoving an old jacket under his head for a makeshift pillow.

He couldn’t exactly blame him for it, either. Maybe he could’ve been a better boyfriend, maybe he should’ve just bitten his tongue and held back whatever criticisms he had of Trevor and the ship. But part of this felt like it was inevitable, like he was always going to blow up like this. The worst part was that he didn’t even feel guilty about any of it, he was only sorry that speaking up had the consequences that it had. It was hard to have any regrets about it when he fully believed he was doing the right thing, though.

----------------------------------------------------

It only took them another week to reach the nearest spaceport, some podunk trading and tourist hub located pretty centrally to all the bigger colonies. Trevor liked it because they’d be able to stock up on supplies without having to scrounge or overpay. That was something that desperately needed doing, the last few ports had single rations sold for thousands of credits or reasonably priced ones that were nearly a century past date. Plus, they’d have pretty good odds at finding a replacement pilot there too. Jeremy liked it because it didn’t seem like the worst place to be booted onto, he could find work with another crew or in the port pretty easily. Everyone else liked it because being at port meant a few days of rest. Lindsay didn’t have to worry about some of the more power-hungry systems that came with flying a ship, which meant that Gavin didn’t have to run around making patchwork repairs at every hour of the day. But for some, their work didn’t stop. Matt always had to keep his ear to the radio for any incoming transmissions, and Michael and Fiona could only leave their experiments and samples unattended for so long before there were catastrophic results.

Reaching port this time was different this time around, though. They’d never had to say goodbye to one of their own before. Jeremy had been permitted one last night on the ship, but in the morning he’d have to go. To honor that last night, Gavin and Michael decided to organize a going away party for their fellow lad, complete with drinks and proper food (not just freeze-dried rations that pretended to be edible) and parting gifts.

It made Jeremy feel better about going when he saw how sad everyone seemed to be, how sincere they were in expressing how much they would miss him. He’d convinced himself that they all hated him for speaking out the way that he had, no one had come to speak to him in the observation deck and the only time he saw anyone was when he was brought his rations, but the party was a good indication that they didn’t hate him: they just pitied him.

Michael was certainly the most upset, despite the fact that he’d pretended to be unbothered only a week prior. Even if they had to do it from lightyears away, they promised each other they’d find a way to make things work. The communication technology was there, they’d still be able to talk. Michael was just glad that he wouldn’t have to worry too much about Jeremy while he was gone. It was a busy port, there’d be plenty of people around looking to hire a skilled pilot. And even if he couldn’t find work right away, it was safe enough that he could stay there for a while without running into any trouble unless he went looking.

Despite all the fun of the festivities, Trevor’s absence was hard to miss. Jeremy had to admit that he’d been foolish for expecting it, but not getting a final goodbye from his former commander stung.

However, Trevor had decided that his day was best spent working instead of partying, arranging for fresh shipments of supplies to be loaded into the cargo bay and beginning his search for a new pilot. The first task was successful, the latter one… Not so much. No one was really giving him the time of day, not believing him when he told them he captained his own ship and could afford to pay handsomely for work. Or they simply weren’t interested in the cargo that would need to be transported. After he was fed a lot of bullshit from people who clearly didn’t know anything trying to weasel their way onto his ship, he reached his limit and returned to the ship, thoroughly disheartened by the end of the night.

Trevor spent the evening in his quarters, agonizing over the situation for a few hours. There were a few solid candidates when he looked past all their unfavorable qualities, but he still wasn’t thrilled about any of them. Everyone was busy partying with Jeremy, he was grateful for the peace while he tried to work something out. The only thing that pulled him out of his thoughts was Lindsay’s chime. Usually that signaled that he’d been working for too long and it was time to get some rest, so he began to stand up, stretching his arms out over his head to ease away the stiffness.

“Commander, Gavin’s outside the door. Should I let him in?” They asked, sending a feed to his terminal of the lad standing outside the doors. He sat back down slowly, squinting as he looked at the grainy footage on the screen.

“Does he look like he’s carrying any stink bombs? I can’t tell.”

There were a few moments of silent examination before the comms beeped to life again. “Nope, he’s clear.”

Trevor waved in approval then, twisting around in his chair to face the door. “Let him in, then.”

The doors slid open to reveal Gavin standing there, fortunately empty-handed, with a smile on his face. “Commander! Missed you at the party, you should’ve been there! I saved you a bev, if you want it.”

“No thanks. Some of us had actual work to do, y’know.” He paused, looking the other up and down. It was always hard to read Gavin, he was always brimming with so much energy, it was hard to tell if his fidgeting was excited stimming or covering up for anxious nerves. There was no telling what he wanted to share. “I really hope you didn’t come here just to chastise me for not going to a party for someone who couldn’t stop insulting the ship every chance he got.”

“Nah, I get it. No one insults our Lindsay and gets away with it. But… I do think I can help with some of your problems.” Trevor arched an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue. “I know a pilot at this port. He’s one of the best. Well, actually, he is the best. And! He owes me a favor! So he’ll definitely be taking the job.”

“If he’s the best, how can you be sure he’s not currently in a crew?”

Gavin laughed at that, and Trevor’s face turned to one of confusion. “He’s rather picky about the jobs he takes. And, like I said: He owes me.”

He was quiet for a few moments, biting his lip as he thought it over. Gavin hadn’t led him astray before, it was how they’d ended up with Michael and Fiona on the crew, but it all felt a little too good to be true. Coincidences made him uneasy, but what choice did he have? “How soon can I meet him?”

“Tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“I’d like to, yeah. After breakfast. Lindsay, set an alarm for the engineering bay to make sure Gavin wakes up in time.”

“Yes, commander.”

“Hey!”

Trevor grinned as the other pouted. “Anything else, Gav?”

Gavin flipped him off before breaking out into a grin of his own. “Nope! That’s it. I should get back to the engines ‘case they bust again, but I’m happy to be of service. See you tomorrow, Trev.”

“See you tomorrow, Gavin. Get some rest, don’t stay up too late pestering Matt.”

“Will do, won’t do, goodnight!”

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The next morning came soon enough, the crew having breakfast together for a change since Michael had been kind enough to grab some fresh ingredients and cook them a nice meal. It was refreshing to have real food, not just the usual freeze-dried rations or nutrient slurries they normally relied on. And real coffee was always a treat, though no one would dare insult Fiona’s synthesized seaweed coffee replacement for fear of losing the one caffeine source they had between stops.

After the meal, Gavin and Trevor set out as planned. They had a pilot to search for, and the lad wouldn’t stop ranting and raving about how great this guy was supposed to be. Trevor just hoped that he was going to live up to all the hype.

“When you said this guy is picky about the jobs he takes, just how picky did you mean?” He asked as they searched through the first hotspot. There were a few places this mysterious pilot liked to hang out in apparently, and there was no telling which one he’d be at.

Gavin chuckled softly, glancing over at Trevor with a smile until he realized he was being serious. Then, he just shrugged a shoulder. “I dunno. He won’t complain about the ship, if that’s what you mean.”

“Kind of. I just want to make sure he’s not too high class to run the sort of jobs we run.”

“Oh, trust me. He’s not. He is exactly low class enough to run these sort of jobs. But, y’know, like everyone else he wants to make sure the money’s real, and that he’s not gonna end up space dust.”

“Fair enough.” Those were reasonable requests, and ones that were easy enough for Trevor to guarantee. No one on his crew ever ran out of credits, and no one had gotten seriously injured on a job. The ‘on the job’ part was the most important part of that sentence, because injuries did still happen around the ship, despite everyone’s best efforts.

Spots two and three were as equally bust as the first one, but Gavin was just as determined as he’d been at breakfast. Trevor, not so much. It was well past mid-day by the time they reached the fifth spot, some sort of hotel and lounge for people to catch their breath and put their feet up.

The moment they stepped in the door, there was a big beaming grin on Gavin’s face. “Fredo!” He shouted, raising his arms as he cheered. “Took us long enough to find you!”

The man in question was seated casually on a sofa, nose buried in a magazine, though his attention was broken by Gavin’s shouting cutting through the ambiance. “Gavin?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion as he set his magazine aside and stood. “What the hell are you doing so far out?”

“Ah, well, that’s a bit of a long story,” he said, waving a hand to dismiss the question as he walked up to the man and wrapped an arm around him. He dragged him over to Trevor, still beaming. “Trevor, this is Alfredo. Best pilot on this side of the universe. On both sides, probably, but he doesn’t like to brag. And Alfredo, this is Trevor. He’s the big boss of the Morrigan.”

“I, uh… Yeah, that’s me. I’m the cap- The commander.”

“Cat got your tongue, Commander?” Alfredo asked, smirking as the other’s face tinted red. “C’mon, let’s go somewhere else and chat. There’s way too many people listening in out here.”

----------------------------------------------------

They ended up in Alfredo’s room, crowded around the small table underneath a dim light. However, Trevor didn’t need a lot of light to get a read on someone, and he noticed a lot of things about their potential new pilot in a short time. He didn’t fidget like Gavin did, each movement seemed like it was with purpose, but sometimes he’d flex his fingers and roll his wrists. It told him that he was as experienced as Gavin said, because Jeremy had started to do the same thing after a long time behind the helm. His jacket was well worn, the red still bright in some spots but faded in others, and patched in places where it’d been damaged. That told him that Alfredo wasn’t afraid of a fight, and he was resourceful enough to not let good things go to waste. All good things, in his book.

“So, what’s your offer?” Alfredo asked, breaking the silence once they’d all gotten settled around the table.

“My… Offer?”

“Yeah. If I work for you, what do I get?”

Trevor and Gavin looked at each other for a moment, the latter stunned by the bluntness of the question, but the former was used to unprofessionalism like that. In fact, he preferred it. “Well, for starters, a spot on the ship. You get your own private quarters. However, you really are there as a backup to our ship’s computer in case things get extra… Challenging. They’re good, but there’s limits to every AI.”

Alfredo’s eyebrows raised at that. He’d never been on a ship that had a computer like that on it before. “Sounds like a fancy ship.”

Gavin snorted out a laugh, shaking his head quickly. “Trust me, it’s not. It’s all cobbled together, and the only reason we ended up with Lindsay was because their system was gonna be salvage otherwise.”

“Right…” He cleared his throat, looking back to Trevor. “What about money?”

“We all get an equal cut of the credits. We’re all important on the Morrigan, no one gets more or less than anyone else.” Everyone put in a lot of work to keep the ship running smoothly, sometimes Trevor felt like he wasn’t doing enough in comparison. Every now and then, he’d take less from his own cut to give everyone else a little more. It felt fair. “And we kind of just go wherever when we’re not running jobs.”

Alfredo was quiet for a few moments, thinking things over. He knew he owed Gavin a favor, but at the same time this whole deal seemed too good to be true. No commander was ever this reasonable, this good to his crew. “Can you go wait outside for a minute? I’d like to talk to Gavin,” he said finally, and Trevor was happy to oblige. He didn’t take his eyes off the other man until the door closing forced him too, then they were fixed on Gavin. “This smells like bullshit.”

“I’m telling you Fredy, it’s not. We all get an equal cut, the rooms are pretty damn lush, and the jobs are alright. I don’t do much but patch up the ship after them, but we haven’t had any major hull breaches yet.” He seemed quite proud of himself for that, but deflated when Alfredo didn’t respond in kind.

“Yeah, but what about your last pilot? What happened to them? No one just leaves a gig this good.”

“Ah, well… Actually, some do. There were a few… Disagreements. He wasn’t happy on the ship, and Trevor doesn’t like when people insult the Morrigan, or Lindsay,” he explained, choosing his words carefully. He wasn’t sure either of the men involved would be happy if the story started to get spread. “But it’s a good ship, a good crew, and Trevor’s a good man. Plus, you owe me.”

“I know, and that’s the worst part!” He groaned, slumping forward with his face in his hands. “I hate owing you, you always make people pay you back in the worst possible ways!”

“Oi! I’m getting you a job!”

“Yeah, and it all sounds shady as shit! I know you’re smugglers, but damn. Trevor’s cold.”

Gavin just chuckled softly, because he couldn’t exactly disagree with him. The commander had his moments, but didn’t everyone? “Look, Fredo. You need this, and we need you. So just… Take the job, would you?”

Alfredo chewed the inside his lip as he thought it over, letting out a long sigh after a minute. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Gavin said with a grin, clapping Alfredo on the shoulder before yelling for Trevor to come back inside.

He genuinely couldn’t guess what they had been talking about in there, but judging by the look on Gavin’s face it was something good. “You’ve decided, then?” He asked Alfredo as he took his seat again.

“He has! He said that he’d joi-“

“-Gavin, dude. Let me talk,” he said, swatting at the other man to get him to shut up. “I’ll join your crew, on one condition…” He trailed off, wanting to gauge the other’s response before he continued.

“And that is?” Trevor asked, arching an eyebrow and waiting for him to go on.

“I have some cargo I need to get off this asteroid. It’ll be a win/win for the both of us: You get to see how good I fly, I get this job off my back, and you, me, and your crew get to split the money.”

It’d be a good reason to get out of the spaceport faster too. Trevor wasn’t planning on leaving until they had a job anyway and now one had fallen right into their laps with a new pilot in hand. “Sounds like a deal to me,” he said, reaching a hand out for Alfredo to shake and smiling across the table at him. It was a genuine smile, the facade of the stern negotiator falling away.

Alfredo grinned right back at him, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. “Hell yes.”

“We can get into the details of the job back on the ship, but I wanna introduce you to your new crew first.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love them, Fredo. They’re all brilliant.”

----------------------------------------------------

The Morrigan welcomed its commander back onto the ship with a cheerful musical tone, the doors sliding open as he approached with Gavin and Alfredo in tow.

“Oh, now who’s this?” Lindsay asked, curious about the new arrival. If they were being honest, they hadn’t expected Gavin to be telling the truth about knowing a pilot, or for Trevor to be convincing enough to get him to join. Their expectations weren’t pessimistic, just realistic. They knew their crew.

“Lindsay! Hey there, perfect timing,” Trevor said with a grin as Gavin scurried off to go gather the rest of the crew. “This is Alfredo, he’s gonna be our new pilot! And Alfredo, this is Lindsay, our ship's computer, and your co-pilot. If you have any questions about the ship, they’ll be the one to ask.”

“That’s right!” They chirped, “Not to brag or anything, but I know more about this ship than anyone, except maybe Gavin. We’re about equal, but don’t tell him I said that!”

Alfredo chuckled, amused by just how much personality this supposed AI had. “Are you sure there’s not a person on the other side of those comms, commander?”

Trevor simply shook his head. “Nope, just a Lindsay!” He answered, motioning for Alfredo to follow him as he led him further into the ship. Doors opened and shut behind them automatically as they went, which meant that Lindsay was keeping a close eye on them. They’d really taken Jeremy’s comments about the ship to heart, and they had to make sure the new guy wasn’t going to say the same thing.

“No offense, but… How does a ship like this afford a computer like that? I know how much these jobs make, and how much those things cost, and… The math just isn’t adding up.”

The speakers beeped to life with a gentle tone, and Lindsay spoke up for themselves. “I was a rejected version of an even more advanced system, but because of how advanced I still was, they couldn’t just shut me down and wipe out all my data. So, they put me up for sale instead.”

“We got a pretty good deal on them, actually. No one really wants a buggy AI, too much of a risk or whatever, but for a smuggling crew who doesn’t care about perfection, they’re perfect.” The bugs that the programmers had rejected Lindsay for were hardly even bugs in Trevor’s eyes, they were just things that made them too hard to control. There was no speech filter, no way to control them or make them do whatever you wanted, which is why they’d been rejected. You had to treat them like a person, and their programmers had hated that.

Alfredo was genuinely impressed by the state of the ship, and how smoothly things seemed to run on the surface. Lindsay gave him a quick brief on the engine the ship was powered by and some tips for when he was at the controls to help work around some of its quirks. By the time their spiel was done, they’d reached the bridge where everyone had been gathered so they could get introductions out of the way all at once instead of hunting people down one by one.

The Morrigan was no small ship, and its crew matched it. It was, by far, the largest smuggling ship that Alfredo had ever stepped foot in. Probably the happiest as well. Every role had a person to fill it, and none of them seemed to have many complaints either.

The first person to speak up and introduce herself was Jack, the ship’s navigations officer. She worked with Lindsay to chart their courses, keeping in mind everything that they’d have to avoid ranging from rogue space debris to the ever annoying authorities. The three of them would be working very closely together, so Alfredo was glad that she spoke up first.

Michael and Fiona introduced themselves next, the former being the ship’s medical officer and physician while the latter was a scientist. She had her own experiments to run, but she also spent a lot of time helping Michael keep everyone on board the ship healthy. It was a much more difficult task than one would expect, apparently. Alfredo asked Fiona what she was doing on the ship, but she refused to say anything more than “nunya business,” and Trevor insisted that it was better if he didn’t know, so he dropped the subject.

The communications officer introduced himself after that. Matt was more quiet and reserved than everyone else seemed to be, but he still seemed quite content in his role. It seemed like there wasn’t much to do - there were no aliens trying to make contact, or even that many other ships for that matter - so he spent a lot of his time misusing the comms to catch up on radio shows from Earth or the other space outposts.

“Alright! Well, feel free to hang out with everyone for a bit,” Trevor said, noticeably relieved that everyone seemed to like Alfredo, and vice-versa. It was a good first step. Gavin was usually a pretty good judge of character, but one could never be too careful.

“You’re not gonna stick around?” Alfredo asked, frowning a little. “You can’t just leave me alone with these guys.” That comment was hushed, he didn’t want anyone else to hear.

“Sure I can. I’ve got some work to do, and besides, they don’t bite.” He looked pointedly at Michael. “Usually.” Alfredo whirled around to follow Trevor’s gaze, eyes going wide as Michael snarled at him. The pair broke out into laughter, making Alfredo huff in displeasure.

“That’s not funny, man.”

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t resist. Just… Relax.” He put his hands on the other’s shoulders, giving him a little shake. “Everyone here is great, they’re the nicest people on this side of the galaxy. You’re gonna have to get to know them eventually, so you might as well start now. I got some work I gotta do to get us loaded up, but come up to my quarters later. We need to hammer out the details of that job so we can get outta here soon.”

Alfredo nodded slowly, mumbling a confirmation and watching as Trevor turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Michael and Gavin slammed a hand down onto each of his shoulders, snapping him out of his trance as they whirled him around.

“C’mon, Alfredo! We’ve still got some booze leftover from Jeremy’s going away party,” Michael told him with a wicked grin, “Jack makes the best drinks, you gotta try one.”

“I dunno... I just joined, is that really smart?”

“Is what smart?”

“Drinking.”

“Nah,” Gavin scoffed, shaking his head quickly. “Drinking’s always smart, trust me.”

Alfredo rolled his eyes. He knew firsthand that trusting Gavin was a bad idea when it came to alcohol, but on the other hand… Maybe it’d be a good way to get more comfortable around everyone. He was still a little wary, and a little overwhelmed by the sheer size of the crew, some help feeling more at ease was definitely welcome. It was called liquid courage for a reason.

And after a few drinks, he certainly felt more at ease. At the same time, it was weird being accepted so quickly. Sometimes he was stuck on his own, even when he was on a crew. Space had a tendency to be a very lonely and isolating place, it seemed like these people were well aware of the fact, and worked hard to make sure no one fell victim to its clutches. Fiona saw him standing off to the side, trying to edge away from all the excitement, and dragged him right into it. Jack gave him drinks when she spotted an empty cup, alternating between alcoholic and not to make sure he didn’t end up too far gone. And Michael and Gavin were something else entirely, wasting no time in filling him in on the latest ship gossip and ongoing pranks. Ultimately, he decided that he’d made a good choice in trusting Gavin and joining the Morrigan.

When the festivities died down and everyone began to clean up and retreat to their quarters, Alfredo took it as his sign to go and find Trevor and discuss the job with him. Finding his quarters was easy enough, but he hesitated outside.

“He already knows you’re there, you know,” Lindsay piped up, giggling when they saw Alfredo jump and search around for the source of their voice. It was all around them, coming through every speaker in that part of the hall. “He’s got a video feed that shows the hall outside of his door. Put it in after Gavin pranked him a few too many times,” they added, this time only speaking from the nearest speaker.

“Yeah, Gavin’s always been one for pranks.” He stepped closer to the door, but still didn’t go in.

They hummed softly, some sensors whirring in a far off room of the Morrigan. “Why are you hesitating?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because!” Alfredo gestured in exasperation, activating the door’s motion sensor. He jumped again as it slid open, staring through it and making eye contact with Trevor, who was seated at his desk and smiling knowingly.

“Thank you, Lindsay.”

“Any time, commander! That trick never fails.”

Alfredo looked at Trevor with wide eyes, stammering out an excuse that was immediately waved off. “Just come on in, there’s no use putting it off,” he told him. “The sooner we get things sorted, the sooner we can get out of the port.”

“Why the rush?” He asked as he stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind him with a loud thunk. “It’s pretty nice, as far as spaceports go.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a disgruntled former pilot hanging around here now, and I really don’t want him deciding that he wants to get revenge.”

“Fair enough.” Alfredo sat down in the chair across from Trevor, watching him from across the desk. When the other didn’t speak right away, he took it as an opportunity to do so instead. “So, the job. It’s several crates of cargo, will you have enough space in the hold for all of that?”

“How many is several, exactly?”

“About ten, all pretty decently sized. A yard or two each way, at least.”

Trevor chuckled, nodding as he made a note. “Oh yeah, we’ll have plenty of room. I’ve got some supplies getting loaded up tomorrow, if you talk to a man named Geoff at the mercantile he’ll be sure to slip ‘em in, make sure no one suspects anything.”

Alfredo raised his eyebrows, impressed. “That’s it? No questions about the cargo?”

Trevor let out a long sigh at that, lifting his eyes from his notebook to look at him. “Usually, I don’t want to know. It’s not my business to know. I’m not paid to know,” he explained, waiting until the other nodded in understanding to carry on. “But, since you brought it up, I feel like I should ask… Is it alive?”

“Uh… Yeah, it is.”

“Is it people? Cause I don’t do that shit.”

“What? No. No! It’s… Well, it’s-“

“Is it gonna break out of the crates and kill us in our sleep?”

Alfredo didn’t have an immediate answer to that one. Trevor didn’t find that comforting.

“Probably not?”

They stared at each other for a few moments, gauging each other’s reactions until Trevor broke the silence. “Works for me! Like I said, talk to Geoff at the mercantile, let him know where you keep everything, he’ll get it all worked out.” He extended his hand, offering it to Alfredo for him to shake. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Alfredo.”

“Likewise,” the other man said, reaching out and giving Trevor’s hand a firm shake. “The Morrigan seems like a real nice ship, I can’t wait to see how they fly.”

With that, Alfredo took his leave, but Trevor kept his eyes on the door long after he walked out.

The comms beeped to life, and Lindsay spoke from a speaker on Trevor’s desk. “I like him already.”

“Yeah, I do too,” he said whimsically before shaking his head to clear the thoughts from his mind and pointing a finger at the speaker. “I never said that. You didn’t hear that.”

“Of course, Commander. I heard nothing.”

----------------------------------------------------

The cargo was loaded up without issue the following day. All Alfredo had to do was give the boxes a small mark once they were in the hold, that way they’d know what was the smuggled cargo, but that was an easy enough task. They spent a few more hours at the port, letting everyone do a small tour around for some shopping and giving Michael a chance to say some goodbyes to Jeremy before they set out.

“Alright, let’s see how this baby flies,” Alfredo said with a grin once he was in the pilot’s seat, cracking his knuckles. This was the one place where he truly felt confident and in his element, and it was so good to be back where he belonged. “Jack, we got a course set?”

“Yup, Lindsay’s got all the info, and there should be a copy of it there on your terminal,” Jack said from her station, turning in her seat to look at Alfredo and give him a thumbs up. She grinned as she got one in return.

“Sweet. Lindsay, you ready to take off?”

A few melodic beeps came through the speakers as they checked in with Gavin to make sure the engines were all in working order, then they spoke. “I am! Gavin’s on standby in case anything goes wrong, too.”

“Perfect, start the launch sequence for me, please?”

“Ooh, how polite! I like this one,” they hummed, and Jack laughed softly from her station at the way Alfredo’s cheeks tinged pink. “Sure thing, Fredo. One launch sequence, coming right up!”

The Morrigan shook and creaked as the engines fired up, groaning with effort as the sound roared through the engineering bay and echoed around the spaceport. It was a big ship that required a lot of power to get going, even more so to break away from the gravitational field surrounding the port, and every time they took the crew was terrified that it would come apart at the seams under the pressure. But, like it did every time before, it pulled through, and it wasn’t long until they were up in the atmosphere and out into space.

“Wow,” Alfredo breathed, slumping back in his chair once things had stabilized. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath. “Is it always like that?”

Trevor chuckled from behind him, smiling and nodding. “Yeah, pretty much.” He walked up and patted Alfredo on the shoulder, making eye contact with him in the window’s reflection before looking past it at the stars. “Get used to it, buddy.” The clanking of the ship he’d long since learned to tune out, but seeing the stars? It never got old to him. They were just as beautiful every time he saw them, and it was easy to get lost looking at them as they went by.

“Guess I’m gonna have to.” It was clear that Trevor was lost in thought, so Alfredo just nudged his hand from his shoulder and leaned to look around him at Jack. “How we lookin’? Smooth sailing?”

“Smooth sailing. No asteroids, no authorities, no other ships if we’re lucky. I’ll let you know if that changes, though. It’ll take us a while to get to our next stop, few days at the most.”

“Can this thing handle lightspeed?”

Jack and Lindsay both broke out into laughter, and even Trevor snapped out of his trance to join in.

“Absolutely not,” Lindsay told him, laughing brightly. They took great pride in the Morrigan, but even they knew its limits. “We’ve been trying to get our hands on a new warp drive for a while now, but no such luck. We’re stuck inside this solar system for the time being, unfortunately.”

“Put my cut from the job towards one, then.” Trevor’s eyebrows shot up, and he met Alfredo’s eyes through the reflection once more. “I’m serious. The further you can travel, the better jobs you can get.” And even for short distances, Alfredo wasn’t really one for travelling at a space snail’s pace. “The better jobs you get, the more money you make.”

Trevor couldn’t disagree with that logic, so he simply just nodded in approval. “I’ll start putting my cut towards one too, then.”

“Seriously?” Jack piped up, “like Gavin doesn’t have enough to fix around here?”

The commander turned towards her, arching an eyebrow. “Everyone’s free to spend their cut on whatever they like, and that’s how Alfredo and I are choosing to use ours. Do I say anything when you spend it on baseball cards just cause Geoff and Gav talked about ‘em?”

“No…”

“No, I don’t. So, you mind your business, and I’ll mind mine.” Trevor could take a ribbing as good as the rest of the ship’s crew, but there were some things he just wouldn’t take. The ship was still a very sore subject for him. Jack let out a long sigh but nodded, knowing that there was no use in pushing the matter further. “So, Alfredo. You don’t have to stay here all the time, Lindsay’ll put an alarm out if there’s any immediate threats you’re needed for. I don’t expect you to be sitting here all day, every day. That’d just be mean.”

Alfredo nodded in understanding, spinning around in the chair to get a look at Trevor. “I’ll probably hang out here most of the day, though. Nice view, y’know? Plus I wouldn’t want Lindsay and Jack to get bored,” he joked, cracking a smile.

“Good plan.” Trevor nodded in approval before he spun around to leave, though he lingered just out of sight. Alfredo was agreeable, almost too agreeable. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the guy, or that he cared if he was a troublemaker, but it was certainly an oddity to have a crewmember that actually wanted to do their job. There had to be a catch. There was always a catch.

Jack scoffed from her seat once she thought Trevor was gone, glancing over at Alfredo from her terminal. “You let him walk all over you, dude.”

“He’s the boss, I’m gonna listen to him,” he responded simply, looking to her for barely a second before his eyes were back on the stars.

“Yeah, but you can push back a little, he’s not gonna bite your head off for it.”

“He gets enough of that from the rest of you assholes.”

“Whoa, okay. Just trying to help.”

Alfredo turned in his chair then, meeting Jack’s eyes. “I don’t need your help. Did you hear what Trevor said? ‘You mind your business, I’ll mind mine?’ That goes for me too.” He’d put up with enough bullshit from the other crews he’d been a part of and jobs he’d taken, and he wasn’t going to let this be like the rest of them. He knew the difference between letting himself get pushed over and keeping his head below the fenceline so he didn’t end up losing it.

They stared each other down for a few long moments, sizing each other up. Jack realized then that she’d misjudged Alfredo. He wasn’t some rookie pilot pulled off the streets, he was the real deal, and he wasn’t going to take any shit from anyone. On the other hand, Alfredo realized that he’d judged Jack correctly, and he didn’t like antagonists much. He knew he’d warm up to her eventually, he had to if he didn’t want this whole thing to fall through, but that was an awfully bad start.

Lindsay couldn’t stand the tension that was building in the room, making the air so thick that the vent system was having a hard time sucking it up for purification. So they did the only thing they could to break it: Sound a station-wide alarm. Trevor had to come out of his hiding spot then, running up to the main console to check the system.

“Lindsay, what the hell’s going on?!” He asked, having to shout over the blaring alarm.

“I don’t know, the alarm just started going off!” They shouted back, sounding panicked, although it was all an act. They pretended to flounder for a moment, making sure that there was enough time for the tension to fade entirely and that Alfredo and Jack had forgotten about their spat before they killed the alarm. “There! All sorted, I think it was just a crossed wire or something. Crazy, huh?” They could tell that Trevor didn’t quite believe them, but at least Jack and Alfredo had gotten back to work. “Maybe you should stick around for a bit, commander. Just to make sure nothing like that happens again.”

“Hm.” He hummed as he took a seat in the commander’s chair, kicking his feet up onto the console in front of him. There was no way to tell what they were playing at, but keeping an eye on the new recruit wasn’t exactly a bad idea, especially if Jack was going to be giving him trouble. “I think you’re right, Lindsay. Can’t be having any trouble on the bridge now, can we? Good call.”

“No commander, we can’t. And thank you.”

----------------------------------------------------

Things were quiet for a few days. Too quiet. There were the usual pranks and fights and other nonsense, but there were no large scale problems. Any commander would be happy about that and proud of their crew for avoiding disaster, but not Trevor. On the Morrigan, that meant there was a ticking time bomb hidden somewhere on the ship, and it was only a matter of time until it blew. He allowed himself to sleep, but only for a few hours at a time, and when he was awake he was on constant patrol. The previous longest record for going without a major incident was about three days, and it was now encroaching on a week. He wasn’t counting the detour they’d had to make to avoid some random authorities patrolling the system as a major incident, just a minor setback, so they were still due for something.

When it hit a week since their last incident, he was almost convinced that he could relax, that he could let his guard down and accept that there was nothing waiting just around the bend for him. Almost. Barely a second after that thought crossed his mind, he heard footsteps quickly approaching from behind him.

“Hey, Trevor-boy!” Gavin called out for him, making him spin on his heels. “So, got a bit of a problem for you.” It was weird seeing someone relieved to learn there was a problem, but Trevor certainly looked that way. “There’s a lot of uh… Banging, coming from the storage deck.”

“Have you gone down there to check it out?” He asked, already knowing the answer before he even asked.

“Absolutely not! Are you insane? Michael won’t go either, before you ask, you’re gonna have to go down there and look,” he informed him, and Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hey, don’t give me that! We don’t know what Alfredo brought on board, and I’m not trying to get eaten.”

“He promised me it wouldn’t kill us in our sleep.”

“That doesn’t mean it won’t kill us when we’re awake, though.”

Trevor sucked in a breath, holding it for a moment as he thought his next words over carefully. “Lindsay?” He called, his attention no longer on Gavin as he began to walk

The speaker system chimed to life, and Lindsay greeted the two of them cheerfully. “Yes, commander?”

“Where’s Alfredo?”

There was a beat of silence as they checked all of their ocular systems. “He’s in the bridge, why?”

“Have him meet me down by the storage bay, would you? And have Michael bring down a few weapons, I don’t know what we’re dealing with. Can you tell if anything’s started moving down there?”

“There is a lot of movement down there, but I think whatever it is, it’s still in the crates.” The comms system buzzed as they went quiet, searching the cargo bay to make sure they weren’t sending their crew down into certain death. “Yeah, no, it’s definitely still contained.” There was a beat of silence before they whispered, “for now.”

That brought some relief, at least. Still, he didn’t want to go in there with nothing, just in case. At least they managed to hit a new record. He’d have to mark it on his calendar when he got back up to his quarters.

He let Gavin get back to work somewhere along the way down to the bottom of the ship, waiting outside the door to the hold and tapping his foot as he waited for Alfredo and Michael to join him. As he opened his mouth to ask Lindsay to let them know he was waiting, he heard the telltale sound of yelling that signalled Michael’s approach. Alfredo was much quieter, but he had no doubt that he was in tow.

Still, he was impatient. Trevor always was when it came to the safety of his crew. If there was anything that had the potential to harm them, he wanted it dealt with as quickly and efficiently as possible. There was no room for wasting time. He already had his hand out as Michael rounded the corner, and he didn’t lower it until he felt the weight of a gun settled in it.

“Gave you your usual rifle, boss. Figured you’d want something reliable,” he explained, watching as Trevor inspected the rifle to make sure it was up to his standards. “Gave Fredo the harpoon gun, figured it might be handy and he said he’s used one of those before. Plus pistols for the both of you. Try not to miss your shots, though. Gavin’ll be pissed if he has to do a hull repair.”

“Thank you, Michael. We’ll take it from here, but…” He trailed off, noticing that Michael himself was also armed with a variety of weapons. “Standby out here, just in case. Lindsay’ll let you know if we run into trouble.” They nodded at each other in understanding, the doors to the cargo bay sliding open in front of them. “Let’s go.”

Alfredo could only give a tiny nod himself, following behind the commander as they stepped into the hold. It was bright, the lights at full blast to make sure there weren’t any shadows to hide in. But that wasn’t enough to stop him from being nervous. His hands didn’t shake, but he was chewing on his bottom lip so much that it was starting to bleed, and every little noise made him raise the harpoon gun and aim.

“You wanna tell me what’s in those crates?” Trevor asked as they worked their way towards the center of the hold, checking every nook and cranny as Lindsay kept them updated on any movement around them that was out of the ordinary. “I was fine with not knowing before, but-“ He was cut off by the sound of wood scraping against metal, dull thuds as whatever was inside of them grew restless. “But because of things like that, I can’t let things slide anymore.”

The other man hesitated, continuing to bite at his lip, but Trevor’s gaze was piercing and it made his blood run cold against his tongue. Nothing got past the commander, even the smallest of lies. “Plants. It’s plants.”

“Plants don’t move like that,” Trevor pointed out, and Alfredo couldn’t exactly refute his claim. “Now, what the hell is actually in these crates?”

“I’m being serious. It’s plants.” A beat of silence, more piercing stares, before he continued. “Mutant plants that were definitely overfed a ton of fertilizer and who only knows what else, but… Yeah. Plants.”

“Mutant… Plants?” The words fell slowly off of Trevor’s tongue, processing what they meant at the same time they left his mouth. “Just how mutant, exactly?”

“Depends. Some of ‘em are still pretty plant-like, but… Others are getting pretty close to Audrey II territory.”

“As much as I appreciate the comparison, I’d appreciate a little more seriousness even more.” Alfredo murmured an apology, but Trevor’s silence made it clear that the time for talking was over.

After a few more paces they reached the crates, specially marked to make it stand out from all of the other similar crates, but only to the trained eye. Sure enough, there was some banging coming from inside the crate, as well as some angry hissing, but it wasn’t exactly loud enough to be heard from the engineering deck, especially not over the roar of the engines either. If Gavin was able to hear it, it had to be something much bigger, much louder.

They began to inspect the crates one by one, making sure each one was intact and tightening whatever screws had started to get knocked loose by the thrashing within. All the noise and movement had Trevor on edge, his heart racing and normally steady hands shaking each time he had to touch one of the boxes.

“That’s all of them. Nine crates, all secure.”

Alfredo frowned, eyebrows furrowed together as his eyes flicked from crate to crate. “There should be ten here.” They both counted, and re-counted, and counted one last time for good measure. Sure enough, there were only nine crates with no sign of a tenth.

“Lindsay, double-check the manifest for me?” They did, which only confirmed that there was a crate missing. Trevor’s face mirrored the pilot’s then, concern etched deep into their features. “Alfredo? Any explanations?”

“Alright, this isn’t my fault.”

“I’m not saying it is, but I would still like an explanation. Or at least some way to make sense of… This.”

Alfredo shifted, uncomfortable under Trevor’s gaze. “Well… Best guess is that… Either Geoff miscounted or left one off the ship, or-“

“-Which is pretty likely-“

“-Or one of the plants escaped. Which is also pretty likely. Maybe even more likely.”

“Well. Shit.” They both hoisted up their weapons simultaneously, knowing that they couldn’t afford to get caught off guard by anything. “Lindsay, lock down the cargo bay! Nothing gets in or out of here, not even the two of us. If anything starts moving other than us or those crates, you tell us immediately, got it?”

“Sure thing, commander. There’s just… One teensy-tiny problem.”

Trevor groaned loudly, looking up at the speaker. “And that is what, exactly?”

“Well, you see… There’s so much movement in those crates that… I kinda can’t see any movement anywhere else in the ship, and especially not in the cargo bay. It throws my whole system off, I can’t see anything.”

He whirled around to look at Alfredo upon hearing that, rifle still raised, and for a second he thought that the commander was going to shoot him right where he stood. The thought crossed Trevor’s mind, he wasn’t going to lie about that, but he decided that it would be unwise. He needed someone to watch his back, even if that someone was the one who got him into this mess. Turning back around and marching on, he let out a very slow, very shaky breath as he tried to control his anger.

“Alfredo?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You and I are going to stay in here and keep watch on the rest of these crates to make sure no more of these…” He trailed off, glaring back at the crates before his gaze was back on Alfredo. “Things escape before we reach our destination. Michael and Jack are going to be patrolling the rest of the ship to keep everyone else safe. I don’t know what the hell these things are capable of, and I’m assuming you don’t either, so we need to be on high alert. Got it?”

Alfredo nodded quickly. “Yes sir.”

“Good. Now… Lindsay, how far away are we?”

“We’re about a day out. I’ll try and push the engines so we can get there faster but-”

“Don’t bother, I’d rather not blow the ship. Alfredo and I are just going to have to find some way to keep ourselves occupied.”

A day stuck in the cargo hold with the commander, who was very armed and very angry, really wasn’t ideal for Alfredo, but he acknowledged that there were worse punishments he could be given. He was just glad that he’d already opted to put his cut towards the ship, because there was no way he’d be given all of it after this.

----------------------------------------------------

“Got any sevens?”

“No, go fish. Got any threes?”

“Nope, go fishin’! Got any… Got any aces?”

There was a long moment of silence, and then: “This would be easier with cards. I don’t remember what I have or don’t have anymore.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

It had been several hours since the start of the cargo bay lockdown, and they were already running out of things to do. They’d searched the hold over and over until they found scrapes in the floor that lead to a splintered crate at the far end, but nothing that told them where the plant monster had run off to. Then, they reinforced all the remaining crates, doing what they could to make sure nothing else would try to escape and end up succeeding in their attempt. After that, they’d sort of run out of things to do to keep busy. “Imaginary Go Fish” was only entertaining the first time (though Trevor would disagree), and Lindsay had shut off all their sensors in the hold in an attempt to get everything else back in working order so they could help Michael and Jack. Not only were they cut off from the rest of the crew, but they were alone for the next twenty or so hours.

“At least we’re down here with the supplies so we don’t starve,” Alfredo muttered, trying to find any possible brightside to the situation.

Trevor hummed in agreement, standing up and shaking out his arms. “Yeah, at least we won’t starve,” he agreed, the slightest hint of mockery in his tone. He had yet to outright voice his displeasure, but he was sure Alfredo could put the pieces together. After stretching, he checked his watch. “Time for another walk around. You stay put.”

Slumping against a crate, Alfredo nodded, making sure he had his own weapon in hand as Trevor readied his own and walked off. They did this every half hour or so. Trevor made him do the first few, but he must’ve gotten tired of sitting around because it was the first time he’d offered to go.

His footsteps echoed off the thick metal walls of the hold, and Alfredo listened intently to them. The only other sounds were the dull thuds of the contained plant monsters and the usual creaks and groans of the Morrigan itself, but those were easy to tune out once they droned on long enough. When the footsteps stopped, it was like the hold went completely silent.

He was immediately on edge, standing up quickly and hoisting the harpoon gun up as he went. “Trevor?” he called, taking a few hesitant steps forward. When there wasn’t an immediate response, he took a few more, heading towards where he’d last heard the other’s footsteps come from.

“I’m fine,” Trevor called back after a minute, “Just stay there, everything’s fine!”

“You don’t sound too sure,” was the response he got, and he just let out a huff.

It was true, he wasn’t too sure, because in a corner Alfredo had surely overlooked on his previous patrols, the plant had taken over. Its thorny vines stretched across the floors and up the walls, writhing and squirming as it supported the weight of what looked like a giant flower bud but… Flowers weren’t supposed to have teeth. That was the one thing that had been consistent across the planets he’d been to. Plants didn’t have teeth. “I’m not,” he muttered to himself, wondering why the hell he’d agreed to take this job in the first place. You needed a pilot, he reminded himself as he took slow, careful steps back in an effort not to startle the thing. But I don’t think we needed one this badly.

“What’s going on? I’m coming over there.”

Trevor turned around slowly, carefully, just in time to see Alfredo running up. “No, don’t!” he shouted, putting a hand up to stop him, but something stopped him instead.

A vine wrapped itself tight around his arm, the thorns digging in deep and latching on. It had been resting peacefully before, able to slumber without being disturbed by the occasional movement and noise from the two men, but Trevor’s sudden shouting had woken it up. And it was not pleased.

He cried out in pain, instinctively trying to pull his arm free, but it only made the vine hold on even tighter. It reminded him of those finger traps Jeremy had brought on board one time: the more he pulled, the more it constricted his arm. But unlike those finger traps, it had no intentions of letting go once Trevor relaxed.

Alfredo stood there in shock, eyes wide and frozen in place until the commander barked out an order. He didn’t even register the words, just that he needed to move, and he needed to move now. Gavin was going to kill him for the damage later, but there was no time to aim the harpoon gun properly before he was pulling the trigger. Though it missed the bud by a few feet, the harpoon did manage to sever a few of its tendrils. The plant monster let out an ear-piercing shriek, untangling itself from Trevor in order to start scaling the wall and worming its way into an air vent. The metal of the grate covering it bent and snapped from the force, and the ends of several vines hung out through the remaining slats.

“Nice work,” Trevor managed through gritted teeth, trying to pretend like his arm wasn’t bleeding as badly as it was and didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did. Alfredo saw through the act in less than a second, retrieving the harpoon before dropping the gun and approaching Trevor.

“That looks… Bad. I should’ve given you my jacket,” he muttered, pushing his sleeve up to get a better look at the damage. Bruises were already starting to form where the vine itself had been, and there were several grisly cuts from the thorns, all bleeding pretty badly. “Fuck… Lindsay! We need Michael down here, now!”

Trevor pushed Alfredo’s hands off him before sinking to his knees and gripping his arm, trying to cover at least one of the cuts in an effort to stop the flow of blood. Whatever wasn’t soaked up by his shirt dripped down to the floor, creating a pretty sizable puddle beneath him that began to soak into the knees of his pants as well. “They can’t hear you… They shut down all their sensors for this room, remember?” There were a lot of flaws in their plan, he saw that now. But at least he knew that the beast was for sure in the cargo bay, not that there was anything that could be done about that right then. “There’s… There may be some emergency supplies by the door, Michael makes sure there’s some in every room.” Accidents happened everywhere, and the lad hated having to run all the way back to the medbay for a bandage every time someone got hurt.

Once Alfredo had retrieved the medkit, he helped Trevor to his feet and guided him back to their makeshift campsite. The further they were from that vent, the better off they were, though the plant monster would easily be able to follow the trail of blood Trevor left behind right to them. They sat down together there, Trevor still clutching his arm as he leaned back against the crates with a soft groan. He was feeling a bit woozy,

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna bandage this up for now, hopefully that stops the bleeding, or at least slows it,” Alfredo murmured, popping the kit open and breathing out an audible sigh of relief when he saw that it was fully stocked. “Thank the stars,” he breathed, almost smiling as he grabbed a roll of gauze and began to wrap up Trevor’s arm. He was silent as he worked, faltering when the other spoke up.

“Can we please talk?” he asked softly, eyes meeting Alfredo’s when he looked up. “I’d really like something else to focus on other than the pain.”

“I thought you were mad at me?”

“I was… I am, but… I’d still rather talk than sit in silence.”

“Oh.” He continued to wrap his arm, securing it with some tape once he was done. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Anything. Something. I really don’t care.” He held his arm to his chest, cradling it in an effort to soothe the pain.

“Well, how’d you become in charge of your own ship?” Alfredo asked, settling in beside him and leaning against the crate as he began to rummage through the medkit.

Trevor chuckled quietly, turning his head to look over at the other. “Now that is a very long story, but… I guess we’ve got the time.” He checked his watch, taking a deep breath. “I worked on a lot of ships that treated their crews like shit. Treated their ships like shit too, honestly. I bailed on one before my contract was up once I had enough credits saved up, hid at one of the starports until they stopped searching for me, and then… I bought a ship of my own. It was small at first, real small. Couldn’t do much with it, couldn’t really go anywhere with it either, but I managed to swing a few small jobs.” He stared off into the distance as he spoke, looking out the small port windows at the stars outside the ship. It had been a while since he’d thought about any of this, even longer since he’d talked about it, but there was a fond smile as he did. “I don’t miss any of the bullshit at the start.”

Alfredo listened intently, a small stack of things from the kit forming in front of him. More gauze, disinfectant, rags, a suture and thread. He wasn’t really thrilled about the prospect of stitching up Trevor, but those wounds were so deep that something more needed to be done. “I don’t think anyone here misses the bullshit at the start. I sure had my fair share.”

“How did you get started, then?”

“I used to be a pilot back on Earth. I was good at my job, really good, so they bumped me up to piloting shuttles between the colonies. After a while, I guess I got sick of seeing the same places over and over again,” he explained, letting out a soft ‘a ha!’ as he pulled a bottle of painkillers from the bottom of the kit. “Lotta ships need good pilots, and they paid better than the other gig, so I jumped ship, so to speak.” Shaking out a few pills, he passed them to Trevor who swallowed them down dry with a grimace. Anything to help the pain. “Never really wanted to own my ship, seemed like too much work, but… I was cool with piloting them. I get paid to see space, how cool is that?”

“It is a lot of work,” he agreed, still trying to get the pills down. “Sometimes, it’s too much work. But at the end of the day, it’s all worth it.”

Alfredo was quiet for a few long moments, the silence hanging heavy between them. “Will this be worth it?”

“Yes.” Trevor didn’t need to think about his answer as much as Alfredo had needed to think about his question. “Absolutely. You seem surprised.”

“But you got hurt. That thing could have killed you!”

“But it’s still in the cargo bay, and it didn’t hurt anyone in my crew. Better me than anyone else.” His crew was his family, and if he had to get hurt to keep them safe, so be it. It was a small price he was willing to pay.

Alfredo scoffed and shook his head. “I don’t get you.”

“What?”

“No commander gives this much of a shit about their crew.” No captain gave their crew an equal cut, they always took more for themselves. No captain would sacrifice themself for their crew, they always forced their crew to do the sacrificing for them. No captain would adopt a broken AI like one would a stray cat. It just didn’t happen. “Not a single one. I’ve been trying to figure out your game from the start, and I just… I can’t.” The laughing only added to his confusion.

“I know. No other commander does, but I do. And you’re gonna have to get used to it, Alfredo. All those assholes on the other side of the door are my family, and I’d sooner die for them than let anything bad happen to them,” he stated firmly, making sure the other was looking at him and meeting his eyes as he spoke. “There’s no game, no ulterior motive. You’re part of that family now too, so you’re just gonna have to learn to live with it.”

It had been a long time since Alfredo had been a part of any family, since anyone had accepted him so completely so quickly. While he didn’t fully trust Trevor just yet, he trusted him more than he had a few minutes ago. “Alright. I’ll learn to live with it.”

----------------------------------------------------

Alfredo was silent as he worked to stitch up Trevor’s arm, hands steady as he did so. He’d spent some time cleaning up the now dried blood, disinfecting the wounds and getting a better look at them. Some of the cuts were only surface wounds, already scabbed over and barely noticeable, but others were pretty gruesome. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to freak Trevor out, but he was pretty sure that he could see bone in a few of them. “Michael’s gonna have to redo these, but they’ll hold for now,” he murmured, tying off the last one and bandaging him up again before things got too bloody again.

“How bad am I, doc? Am I gonna make it?” Trevor asked, really glad that he’d taken some more painkillers because he couldn’t imagine all of those stitches would feel great in a few minutes.

“Yeah,” Alfredo said with a soft smile, taping down the end of the gauze. “You’ll make it.” I hope.

----------------------------------------------------

As hour six rolled around, the comms hissed with static and a few musical beeps, surprising Alfredo and making him lift his head. He and Trevor had decided that sleeping was a pretty good way to kill time, so the commander had ended up fast asleep and slumped with his head on Alfredo’s shoulder. The other man hadn’t been so lucky, wide awake and checking every few minutes to make sure that he hadn’t gone and died on him.

“Lindsay?” he asked softly, hoping they’d see the situation and match his tone.

“Alfredo! What the hell happened?” They could see everything the second their cameras were back online: The broken vent grate, the vines coming out of the grate, the severed tendrils on the floor, the puddle and trail of brown dried blood leading to Alfredo and a very injured Trevor. “Is he… He’s not dead, is he?”

“No, he’s alive. We found the plant, and it… It got him good,” he explained, tipping his head forward to make sure Trevor was still asleep. “I patched him up, but… He’s gonna need a lot more than some stitches.”

“I’ll get Michael to come down-”

“No,” he stated, and Lindsay let out a soft scoff of indignation. “No one else comes down here. If you lift the lockdown, that thing’ll get free run of the station through the vents. We’ll be fine… We’ve got food and water, this kit’s got enough supplies to last us, and… I think as long as we leave it alone, it’ll leave us alone.”

Lindsay hummed as they scanned the room. The plants in the crates had calmed down a little bit, and as far as they could tell the one in the vents was perfectly still, only shifting every now and then but not making any grand movements. “What should we do, then?”

“Make sure everyone else evacuates the ship the second we touch down and send Michael down here with a flamethrower. We’ll take a bit of a hit to our pay because we’ll be short a crate, but I don’t care. I want that thing dead.”

“I’m sure the commander feels the same way… Are you sure he’s gonna be okay?” They asked, dimming the lights a little. If it was dark, the plants would probably stay calmer. It would make sleeping a little easier for the pair as well.

Alfredo bit his lip, shrugging a shoulder before shaking his head. “No, but I’m trying to be optimistic.” He leaned his head back against the crate and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief he’d been holding for far too long. With Lindsay back, it meant he wasn’t alone. There was a buffer between him and the commander, someone to help fill the silence.

They were quiet for a few minutes as they relayed information to the rest of the crew, before the comms crackled in the hold once more. “You should try and sleep too, ‘Fredo. Now that we know where it is, I can keep an eye on it.”

“No, I gotta make sure he’s still breathing.”

“I can keep an eye on him too. The crates are quiet, so all my sensors are in working order. His heart rate is normal, if a bit weak, but he’s breathing fine. You should rest.”

He didn’t really have the energy to argue with them further, so he relented. “Wake us in a few hours. I’m gonna have to change his bandages and clean those wounds. Michael’ll kill me if I let those get infected.”

“Yes, he will.”

----------------------------------------------------

As hour twelve rolled around, Lindsay brightened the lights slowly and chimed softly to wake the pilot and the commander. They hoped that the plants wouldn’t be disturbed as well, but considering how long it took the pair to wake up, they weren’t really too concerned.

“Trevor,” Alfredo said softly, jostling him gently with his shoulder. His ass and his neck ached from sleeping on the hard metal floor in such an awkward position, and he was sure that the other man would need another round of painkillers too. “Trevor, c’mon man. Wake up.”

He did so with great reluctance, groaning softly as he registered several different aches and pains. “Was this really necessary?”

“Yeah, it was. Gotta change your bandages so Michael won’t have to cut off your arm,” he said, encouraging him to sit up before reaching for the supplies in front of him. “Or my head.”

Trevor laughed softly, starting to stretch his arms out over his head before he stopped short, wincing and clutching his bandaged arm to his chest. “Fuck… I thought that was a dream,” he muttered, eyes squeezed shut.

“I wish it was,” Alfredo sighed, “But while you were sleeping, we got Lindsay back. So that’s good, at least. Told them everything. They wanted to send Michael down here, but I told them not to.”

“And why the hell did you do that?” Trevor winced as Alfredo started to unwrap the gauze. Despite how careful he was being, it still pulled at the cuts uncomfortably.

“Because,” he started, murmuring an apology when he saw him wince and trying to go slower. “If the lockdown gets lifted, that thing can go through the vents and go anywhere it wants, which is bad.”

Trevor hummed in agreement, but it was reluctant. He didn’t like knowing Alfredo had been giving orders while he’d been asleep, even if they were the same ones he would’ve given. “What’d you tell them to do, then?”

“Keep the lockdown going, evacuate everyone once we land, and then send Michael down here. With a flamethrower.”

“Good thinking.”

“Why, thank you.”

They fell into a comfortable silence then, Alfredo removing the last of the gauze and cleaning up his arm. The bleeding had stopped, thankfully, so now it was just a focus on preventing infection, which he hoped would be easy enough. It would be even easier once they got back on solid ground, when Michael could actually get in here and kill the thing. Bullets probably wouldn’t do the trick, they’d just piss Gavin off by causing damage to the ship, but fire was pretty damn effective in every circumstance.

“Lindsay?” Trevor called softly, feeling instantly comforted when he heard their voice over the speakers. “Where is the thing? Still in the vent?”

“Yep. Still in the vent. It’s almost cute like this, even if it did try to eat you.”

“It didn’t… It didn’t try to eat me.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, commander. Oh, and Matt would like me to tell you that he thinks it’s hilarious you got your ass kicked by a plant.”

Trevor huffed, rolling his eyes and sinking back against the crates. Even when he was isolated from his crew, they still found a way to pester him.

Beside him, Alfredo shrugged off his jacket, flipping it inside out so the soft lining was visible before balling it up. “You should get some more rest,” he said as he held it out to Trevor. “It’s not much, but it’ll be better for your neck than the crate.”

He hesitated a moment before taking it, sinking right down to the floor to lay flat since he had a pillow now. “It’s weird seeing you without your jacket on.” Alfredo had been wearing it from the moment he’d met him until now, he hadn’t seen him with it off once.

“He even wears it to bed,” Lindsay piped up, laughing as Alfredo’s face went as red as the leather.

“I do not!” He shouted defensively, glaring up at the ceiling. “It’s just part of my style, that’s all.”

“Relax,” Trevor chuckled, reaching out blindly to pat Alfredo’s arm. He missed and hit leg instead, but neither of them said anything. “I wasn’t making fun of you. It’s a good style, I like it.” He turned his head, looking up at Alfredo with a small smile.

The other couldn’t help but smile back, getting comfortable against the box behind him. He didn’t know why that compliment made him feel so warm, but he was lucky that his face was already red from Lindsay’s teasing so it didn’t give him away. “Thanks, Trev.”

“Anytime, Fredo.”

----------------------------------------------------

The hours rolled by easily, the pair spending most of them asleep because there wasn’t much else to do. They woke up a few times so Alfredo could change the bandages, munching on some rations at one point since the last meal they’d had was breakfast that morning. Chatting with Lindsay was another good way to pass the time, too. They were able to keep the crew updated on the situation down in the hold, and keep the commander updated on things going on on the other side of the door. There wasn’t much going on, just a lot of worry, but Trevor still didn’t want to be out of the loop.

Once they’d slept as much as they could and talked to Lindsay until there was nothing more to talk about, they decided to do the only thing they could to pass the final few hours before the ship landed: Talk to each other.

“You said you used to work on Earth. What was that like?” Trevor asked, looking down at Alfredo. They swapped who got to use the jacket-pillow every couple of hours, and since they weren’t going to be sleeping anymore Trevor had decided to surrender it back to its original owner (even though it was still technically his turn for another thirty minutes).

“You’ve never been?” he asked, sticking an arm beneath his head to prop himself up as he looked back at the commander, who shook his head. “I mean, it was fine? I guess? Kinda boring compared to space. The sky was always the same, and there were way too many people. Have you seriously never been to Earth?”

“No, I grew up out in the Terra 2 colony. Then I got sucked up into a spacer crew, and that was it. Never saw any reason to go once I got the Morrigan, and now without a warp drive we’re too far out.”

“I’m shocked a job hasn’t taken you there, people there are always looking for stuff smuggled in from the far reaches,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. Customs was a bitch to get by, but he still had a few buddies down there who’d be willing to let them through. He was sure of it. “Once we get that drive, we’ll pick up a few jobs that’ll take us there.”

“Whatever you say, man. But you didn’t exactly make it sound worth the hype.”

“Oh, it’s absolutely not, but still. I can’t believe you’ve never been!”

Talking to Trevor was a lot easier than it had been before. He wasn’t as scared of him, and a lot of the distrust had faded. The feeling was mutual, as well. The commander wasn’t angry at Alfredo anymore, because ultimately, none of this was his fault. He was the one who hadn’t checked in on the cargo sooner, he was the one who’d startled the monster, all of this fell on his shoulders because it was his ship and he was responsible for everything that happened on it.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor said out of nowhere, almost startling Alfredo with the suddenness of it. “I’m sorry I blamed all this on you.”

“It’s fine.” He hadn’t been expecting an apology from the commander. Maybe a month or two on bathroom cleaning duty, sure, but not an apology. “We both had our fuckups in this mess.”

“We did, but it’s unfair to blame the whole thing on you. Most of it, sure?” Alfredo cut him a look, and he just laughed. “Kidding. I’m kidding! Don’t give me that. It’s really more like… Fifty/fifty.”

“Sixty/forty. You’re the sixty.”

“Yeah, okay. Fair enough.”

They grinned at each other, oblivious to the way the ship began to creak and groan around them as Lindsay initiated the landing sequence. The plants in the crates kicked up again, but the one in the vents was still.

“You know what? You’re alright, Fredo. Gavin was right about you.”

Alfredo’s face matched his jacket all over again, and he had to fight hard to get the words out despite how flustered he was. Trevor hadn’t called him by any sort of nickname until now, it made him feel good to know that the commander was finally warming up to him. “What… What did he say about me, exactly?”

“That you were the best of the best. And he was right. Normally he’s not right about these things, but… He nailed it with you.”

“You sure you’re not still woozy from blood loss?” Alfredo asked, arching an eyebrow as he sat up, meeting Trevor’s eyes. “Because I know we just did that whole heartfelt apology thing, but… I definitely almost got you killed.”

He shook his head fervently. “No, you didn’t. You saved my life.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to let you die.”

“And I owe you big time for that.”

The ship jostled as it landed on uneven earth, and Alfredo grabbed onto Trevor quickly to prevent him from sliding around with the crates around them. Even as things settled, he didn’t let go, hearing something hiss in annoyance from the far end of the cargo hold.

“Lindsay… Please tell us Michael’s on his way,” Trevor said, sinking back into the pilot in an effort to hide as he scrambled to grab the harpoon gun.

“He’s outside the door, we’re just waiting for everyone to be off the ship so I can lift the lockdown. I suggest staying out of his way… He’s been wanting to use that thing for the last eighteen hours, and I don’t think anything’s gonna get in his way.”

“If he dies, Alfredo’s the new medical officer.”

“Noted.”

Using a flamethrower while they were in flight was unwise because of the oxygen rich environment, but back on terra firma it was the perfect weapon for dealing with unruly plant monsters. Michael’s cackles of delight echoed off the walls, mixing with the roar of the weapon and the shrieks of the plant as it burned. The noises kicked off another escape attempt in the other crates, but the reinforcements they’d made held firm. Only a few crates of supplies got caught up in the crossfire, and Michael was relatively unharmed aside from the ash staining his lab coat.

Alfredo let the harpoon drop from his hands once he realized he wouldn’t be needing it, instead helping Trevor to his feet and keeping him steady as they made their way to the bay doors. “Michael,” he said, watching as the man kept scorching the charred remains. “Michael!” He stopped firing quickly, whirling around with wide eyes. “Stop dicking around, Trevor needs help.”

“A thank you would’ve been nice,” Michael muttered as he dropped the weapon, knowing he’d need his hands free to help Trevor.

“Thank you, Michael. Now help him, please?”

“Yeah, yeah. Lindsay told me that you were trying to steal my job, I just hope you didn’t make things worse,” he said as he swapped places with Alfredo, supporting Trevor’s weight to make sure he wouldn’t fall. “Alright, Trevor-boy, let’s get you to the infirmary.” He started to lead him out of the cargo hold, and Alfredo watched them go for a second before turning to start cleaning the mess they’d left behind up.

Trevor stopped after a few paces, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re not coming?” he asked, the smallest hint of a frown etched into his features.

“Uh.” Alfredo blinked, not sure how to answer. “No?”

“Yes, you are. C’mon.”

“Why?”

“I need someone there for moral support. Michael’s not as gentle as you are and I need someone’s hand to hold while he patches me up.” Trevor cracked a grin despite the fact that he wasn’t telling a joke, and Alfredo mirrored the expression after a moment to process exactly what he’d said. “Come on, I don’t have all day,” he insisted, holding out his hand towards him as Michael began to pull him along.

Alfredo jogged to catch up to them, abandoning the task at hand in favor of taking Trevor’s hand. He was happy to have escaped the cargo bay alive, and even happier to know that he was back in the commander’s good graces. Their relationship was different, stronger and a lot friendlier than it had been now that they were no longer wary of each other. Trevor couldn’t think of a single member of the crew that he would’ve rather gone through that ordeal with, either.

“Thanks for not letting the boss die, Fredo,” Michael said, cutting into the silence once they reached the infirmary.

“Yeah, thanks for not letting me die, Fredo,” Trevor agreed, smiling kindly at him and giving his hand a squeeze.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

#ragehappy #secret springfairy #rt writers #jeremichael #alfreyco #i hope those are the right ship names i have no clue #space au #oneshot #fic #fanfic #my fic #my writing #everamazingfe

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