#((got the link through a friend and I cannot believe I almost forgot about my girl ToT))

[viviskull]

((NEW JUNE UPDATE JUST ROLLED AROUND LET'S GO!! Vivi is suffering and I could not be more happier!!!))

[sunflowervolvimp3]

42 Hours

Content: an enemies to lovers au in which Harry and Y/N are forced into a cross country road trip to make it to their best friends’ wedding on time

Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 20k 

A/N: I actually cannot believe that this is finally being posted over almost a month of working on it!! originally, I was going to make this one long stand alone fic, but once I hit 35k with no end in sight, I decided to split it into two parts so that it would be easier to read for you guys.  I’m hoping to have part 2 posted within a week, so keep an eye out for it!! this fic was partially inspired by this post by @avhrodite​ (thank you miss bailey!!) and can I just say that I had so much fun writing it!! I love road trips!! it makes me so sad that I had to split this fic because there are so many fun music scenes in the next part but those will all come in due time!! I would also like to give a big thank you to miss andrea @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​ and miss alex @darthstyles​ for putting up with me bouncing ideas off of them and for proof reading for me!! and miss andrea again for editing this stunning header pic!! also everyone I tagged is a wonderful writer and if you’re looking for more to read after reading this then I HIGHLY suggest taking a look through their masterlists. and as always, if you like this fic, please like and reblog it!! and shoot me a message!! feedback is always appreciated, not just by me, but by all content creators <3

{masterlist}

also!! if you want to set the mood for a road trip with Harry, here is a link to the playlist that is mentioned and referenced in this fic!!

When she was a little girl, Y/N’s grandmother had told her about Murphy’s Law.  Grandma Sarah’s favourite activity was staring at her granddaughter over the kitchen counter, a knife in one hand and half an onion that she’d been cutting in the other, spouting various wisdoms at the young girl, who would often be sitting and peeling vegetables for her.  The old lady had hoped that, after being lectured enough times on life’s difficulties, Y/N might be able to avoid making the same mistakes that she had made in her own time.  She always had a list of advice that she’d cycle through, as if she were a record on a loop.

“Always look both ways before crossing the street.  Your great uncle Albert didn’t, and he never regained full function of his left hand.”

“Beauty fades, but there’s no shelf life on your mind.”

“The grass is always greener on the other side, so stop staring at it, and focus on taking care of your own lawn.”

All of the advice was, by any accounts, useful for anyone to know, especially a young girl.  Of course, sometimes the advice would get a little scrambled after Grandma Sarah had had a few glasses of wine, but even her tipsy thoughts were useful to Y/N in her later years.  To this day, Y/N still sets a glass of water on her nightstand before going out to a bar, and her hungover self is always grateful the next morning.  And Y/N had yet to find anything that smelled as sweet as a vanilla dabbed behind her ears and on her wrists when she runs out of perfume.  However, perhaps the most important piece of advice Grandma Sarah ever gave her came one afternoon when Y/N was eleven years old, and her older cousin Grace was due to get married the next week.

Grandma Sarah had cracked egg after egg into her mixing bowl, always without getting any unwanted pieces of shell in the egg whites, and gave her granddaughter a long look across the kitchen counter.

“When you get married, Y/N,” She had said, voice firm. “Remember Murphy’s Law.  Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment.  When Murphy’s Law comes into play, there’s nothing you can do except roll with the punches.”

Eleven year old Y/N had nodded her head seriously, as she always did when her grandmother told her seemingly important things.  The advice, despite its usefulness, however, didn’t stick around in her head, and Murphy’s Law didn’t cross Y/N’s mind for fourteen years.

It takes fourteen years for Y/N, who is standing in front of a flight check-in at LAX, two large suitcases next to her, one of which contains two gold wedding bands, passport in hand, and a distressed look on her face, to remember the law her grandmother had once told her about.

“When you get married, Y/N…anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment.”

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Y/N pushes the echoing words of her grandmother out of her head. “I’m sorry, just—” She gives a pained smile to the lady working the check in. “Can you explain that to me again, please?”

The lady also takes a deep breath, the smile on her ruby tinted lips just as pained as Y/N’s. “There’s a storm system moving through Utah and Colorado.  These systems have the potential to become tornadoes, and because of that, the conditions for flying are too dangerous right now, so all flights through that area are grounded until further notice.”

“So my flight is cancelled?” Y/N holds up the ticket in her hand that’s stamped with LAX – JFK. “This flight, this flight to New York, which is nowhere near Utah—that’s cancelled?”

The check-in lady, whose name tag reads Brynn, gives another tight smile. “Yes, ma’am.  It’s cancelled.”

“Okay, no, I’m sorry, Brynn, but that doesn’t work for me.” Y/N shakes her head fiercely as the manic rush of emotions through her begins to set in.  The denial, she finds, keeps the oncoming panic at bay, and so she decides to focus on that to ground herself. “My best friend is getting married in the Catskills in one week.” Y/N holds up one finger, as if her words are hard for Brynn to understand. “That’s one week from today.  I’m the maid of honour.  I have to be there to help organize, keep her calm, and make sure she actually makes it down the aisle, because—between you and me—she’s got some commitment issues—” The more Y/N speaks, the more her panic begins to spill out in her words, like a dam with a leak that’s about to burst. “And she forgot the goddamn wedding rings, so I have those too, and I just—I really need to get to New York, like, now. Right now.”

Y/N finally pauses to take a sharp breath, and Brynn, who had been waiting for her to finish, speaks again, her voice flatter than before.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, ma’am, but as I said, all flights are grounded right now.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, Y/N takes another deep breath.  Roll with the punches, her grandmother had told her.  What else is there to do? “Okay.” Y/N is careful to keep her voice in check when she speaks again. “Alright.  Do you know when they’ll be ungrounded?”

“As I’ve said,” Brynn’s smile is more of a grimace now, and Y/N knows that she’s treading on thin ice. “All flights are grounded until further notice.  We’re not sure when we’ll be able to open them again.  It could be a day, or it could be five.  If you’d like, I can put you down on a list to be called when flights are available again, but I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

“Let’s do that, then.” Y/N relents in a tired voice, already making plans to pick up a coffee on her way back to her apartment.  In the back of her mind, she begins to wonder if she has any Baileys Irish cream liqueur left in her kitchen cabinet—and if 8:30 A.M. is too early to be drinking Baileys with her coffee.

…

It takes Y/N two cups of coffee with Baileys (it had been 10 A.M. by the time she arrived home, thanks to L.A. traffic, and she had decided that 10 A.M. was a fine time to drink when one’s flight gets cancelled indefinitely) to work up the courage to call Jo and tell her that she isn’t sure if she’ll be able to make it to the wedding.

Josephine Waters, or Jo to anyone who doesn’t want to get punched in the arm, has been Y/N’s best friend since the girls were five years old.  They became fast friends on the first day of kindergarten, as Jo liked how Y/N could already colour inside the lines, and Y/N liked how Jo tackled a boy who tugged on Y/N’s pigtails.  From the very beginning, the two were a perfect match for each other; where Y/N was reserved, Jo was wild.  Where Jo was disorganized, Y/N was focused.  Each girl balanced the other in the most natural way, and it’s this fact that Y/N and Jo credit for the two of them staying friends for twenty years. As they grew up together, they grew together, taking the very best traits from the other and using it to help themselves develop.  Y/N had been the first person that Jo came out to, confessing to her best friend during an eighth grade sleepover in a quiet and nervous voice.  To Jo’s pleasure, Y/N had been completely supportive, and returned the favour from the first day of kindergarten by punching a boy in the nose for calling Jo a homophobic slur.  Jo helped Y/N through her parent’s divorce.  Y/N helped Jo manage her ADHD.  Jo talked Y/N through discovering her bisexuality in university. Y/N answered every 3 A.M. phone call to comfort Jo after a panic attack.  In every sense of the word, the two girls had been there for each other.

And now Y/N is going to miss Jo’s wedding.

The harsh realization digs a pit in her stomach as she opens her phone and clicks on Jo’s name.  It’s noon in L.A., which means it’s 3 P.M. in New York time, and Y/N knows Jo will answer.  She always does.

Sure enough, after three short rings, Jo’s voice chirps through the phone. “Hey, Y/N!  Has your flight landed already?”

“No, there’s—there’s been an issue.” Y/N downs another gulp of her coffee, wishing she had added more Baileys when she had the chance, and clears her throat before continuing. “There’s, um, a storm in Utah, and apparently it’s bad, and so all flights from L.A. to New York are grounded until further notice.”

Jo makes a scoffing noise, and Y/N can practically picture the indignant look on her face that she’s seen so many times before. “That’s ridiculous.  Did you tell them that New York is nowhere near Utah?”

“Uh huh.”

“What about that my wedding is in one week?”

“I told them that, too. Brynn didn’t seem to care.”

“Bitch.” Jo mutters under her breath. “Okay, just wait a second, Laure just walked through the door, so I’m putting you on speakerphone—”

Y/N hears rustling on the speaker, as well as muttering in the background as Jo speaks to her fiancée, and then Jo’s voice is back, sounding slightly more distant.

“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”

“That’s awful, Y/N.” Laure’s voice is laced with stress, and Y/N can only imagine how much anxiety this information is adding to her already full plate. “They won’t tell you when flights will be leaving again?”

“Nope.” Y/N pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her free arm around them, leaning her head against the back of her couch.

“Okay, well, planes aren’t the only way to get here.” Laure says, always the more rational out of the two. “Maybe a car—?”

“Y/N doesn’t have one.” Jo chimes in, a hint of teasing in her voice, despite the serious problem that’s in discussion. “She’s scared of driving—”

Y/N sits up, an indignant look on her face. “I’m not scared of driving!” She says hotly, setting her empty coffee mug on the table with a thud. “I just hate L.A. traffic, and honestly, there’s no point!  I can walk to work, and Uber anywhere else I need to go!  A car would be completely useless to me!”

“Except now, when you’re about to miss your best friend’s wedding.” Jo points out. “What about renting one?”

Y/N sighs, her moment of indignation already fizzled out. “I tried that already.  There’s nothing available for a cross country trip.”

“And the drive is so long.” Laure murmurs, and Y/N knows it’s more for Jo’s benefit than hers. “It’s over forty hours.  She can’t do that by herself; it’s not safe.”

“But—”

“Look, Jo, don’t worry about this, alright?” Y/N cuts across her best friend’s anxious voice, assuming her usual role of protector. “I’ll figure this out.  I promise you; I will make it to your wedding on time, looking pretty in my dress, and with your wedding bands.  I promise.”

“We’ll keep thinking about it and see what we can come up with.” Laure promises through the phone, her voice sounding further and further away. “This is just—it’s a bump in the road, but it’s fine.  We can work around this.  We’ll find a way.”

…

The way that Laure finds for Y/N pounds on her door at 7:30 A.M. the next morning.

Y/N, like any exhausted and stressed out adult who has already begun her ten days of vacation time that she booked off for the wedding, is fast asleep in her bed when she hears the knocking.  The loud noise pulls her out from her dreams abruptly, and she cracks one eye open, squinting through the sunlight that’s lighting up her room.  When the knock echoes through her apartment again, she pulls herself from her sheets with a groan, grabbing her robe from the back of her door and tying it around herself as she makes her way to the front hallway to yell at whoever has the audacity to wake her up.

When she opens the door, Harry Styles is peering down at her with an irritated look on his face.

“Took you long enough, Y/N.” He rolls his eyes as he speaks, finally stepping back from the door that he had been pounding on a moment ago. “Are you ready to go?”

Y/N rubs her eyes, suppressing a yawn as she does so. “Styles, I have no idea what you’re talking about.  What are you doing here?” She demands.  She doesn’t have the energy to deal with him right now, she thinks, let alone the mental capacity to listen to anything he has to say.

Harry crosses his arms across his chest, and it’s then that Y/N notices the duffel bag strewn over his shoulder. “It’s a forty-two hour drive from L.A. to the Catskills.” Harry’s eyes scan over Y/N’s appearance, the very corner of his strawberry pink lips twitching, and Y/N tightens her robe around herself with a glare.

“A drive?” Y/N asks, uncertainty growing in her voice as she crosses her arm over her chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Your flight was cancelled, right?” Harry’s voice grows more impatient as Y/N’s half asleep brain struggles to piece together what’s happening. “So was mine, so I decided to drive to the wedding, and then Laure called me last night, begging me to take you with me.” He shrugs a bit, fixing his sunglasses on top of his head as his jade eyes scan over her appearance one more time. “Not my first choice of road trip partner, but I don’t think the best man can say no to bringing the maid of honour.  And splitting the cost of gas will be nice.”

“Okay, wait, I…” Y/N’s finally coming out of her fog of exhaustion, and the newfound clarity of her mind is causing a newfound pit to develop in her stomach. “Laure and Jo didn’t tell me any of this.”

“Well, I expect they’re a bit busy, given that they’re getting married in a week.” Harry adjusts the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder with a sharp sigh. “Look, are you ready to go or not?  It’s over a five day drive, so we need to leave as soon as possible.”

“I—yeah—” Y/N nods before taking a hesitant step back from the doorway, positioning herself to the side so that Harry can get by her. “I just have to get dressed and grab a couple last minute things, so…come in, I guess.”

Harry flashes an insincere smile to Y/N as he steps into her apartment, his eyes darting around at the furniture and home decor.  Y/N watches as his gaze lingers on her library of books, her yellow bicycle leaning against the wall, and every other little touch of herself that she likes her home to have, and she can see the judgement that’s clearly apparent in his eyes.

“You can sit, if you want.” She mutters, turning on her heel to go back to her bedroom. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

The first thing Y/N does when she shuts her bedroom door behind herself is assess the situation in the analytical way that usually calms her.  Alright.  So a road trip across the country isn’t exactly ideal, and a road trip across the country with Harry Styles is even less ideal.  But, at the present moment, being stuck in a car with Harry seems to be the only sure way that she’ll be able to make it to Jo’s wedding on time. And for Jo, Y/N would put up with anything.  Even Harry.

As she rummages through her drawers for some leggings and a tank top, Y/N wonders what she could have possibly done to bring this much bad karma into her life.  While she gets dressed, her mind flickers back to Murphy’s Law, how everything that can go wrong will go wrong, in the worst possible way, and then she thinks about being in a confined space with Harry for five days, and—yeah.  That seems to be the worst possible thing she can think of.

Y/N remembers the first moment she’d met Harry seven years ago, and the unfortunate circumstances under which that meeting had happened.  Jo and Laure had just barely met back then, and Jo had begged Y/N to come out on a double date with her and “this really hot girl from my women studies class who I’m, like, 83% sure swings my way.”

Y/N had groaned at that comment, flopping back on her bed in the tiny dorm that she and Jo shared. “No! I have an essay due in three days that I haven’t even started!”

Jo rolled her eyes as she flopped down on Y/N’s bed as well, ignoring her own half-made bunk that was across the small room, favouring her best friend’s bed like she always did. “We both know you’re not starting that essay until the day before it’s due, and that it’s just an excuse because you don’t want to go!”

“I don’t want to go.” Y/N had agreed with a sharp and fervent nod.  She shut her laptop and pushed it to the side of her bed, knowing from experience that she wasn’t going to be able to focus and argue at the same time. “Why would I want to hang out with a complete stranger while you make googly eyes at a girl from your class?”

“Okay, first, I don’t make googly eyes.” Jo made a face at that comment, nudging Y/N’s calf with her own foot. “And second, he’s her best friend from high school, and he’s coming to visit all the way from London!”

“So?  He’s still a stranger!” Y/N pointed out, her eyes drifting to the sticky note covered novel beside her.  She picks it up and begins to flip through the marked pages as she speaks. “Knowing where he’s from doesn’t change that!”

“It should, because he’s only going to be here for a week, and Laure almost cancelled the date because she doesn’t want to miss spending time with him—” Jo grabbed one of Y/N’s pillows and tossed it at her arm, knocking the book from her hands. “Focus! So I said that he could come, but she said that she didn’t want him to be left out, so I said that I happen to have an incredibly beautiful and witty best friend who would be able to entertain Harry while we all hang out together.”

Y/N inhaled deeply as she gave Jo a withering look. “Did you already tell her I’m going?”

Jo, in return, gave Y/N her most dazzling smile. “Yes.  We’re meeting them for dinner at 7.”

Y/N shakes herself from her memories as she runs to her bathroom to toss her toiletries back into the bag she’d taken them out of the day before, working as quickly as she can. It does her no good to think of Harry in the past, she thinks, because the present Harry is currently sitting in her living room, probably snooping through her stuff, and the longer she takes to get ready to go, the more he’ll go through.  Not that there’s anything incriminating in her apartment, really—or at least, nothing incriminating in her living room.  When Y/N makes it back to her bedroom, however, to quickly zip up her suitcase, she does make sure she grabs her favourite vibrator from the box under her bed, tucking it between her half-folded underwear.  If she’s going to be gone for a week, she’ll need something to help her relax.

Within a few more minutes, Y/N is repacked and ready to go.  Her hunter green bridesmaid dress is carefully arranged on the very top of her clothes in her suitcase, all of her makeup and toiletries are packed inside, and Jo and Laure’s wedding rings are secured in little velvet boxes stashed between her socks.  As far as physical preparedness goes, Y/N is ready to go on a coast to coast road trip. As far as mental preparedness goes, however…that’s the thing that Y/N’s not quite sure about.

…

“What are you doing?”

Y/N glances at Harry from the corner of her eye, her hand still half stretched out to the radio dials in his car.  Although Harry’s green eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses, and his face is turned towards the long road in front of them, he still somehow manages to catch her motions, and it irritates her to no end.

“I’m changing the radio station?” Y/N answers after a moment, giving him a puzzled look. “I don’t know why you listen to this weird oldies station, but—”

“First of all—” Harry’s hands turn the steering wheel slightly to guide his car over the curve of the road, his jaw twitching as a smirk works its way onto his pink lips. “This isn’t a radio station, it’s my Spotify playlist.  I put a Bluetooth connection in Stevie a year ago. Secondly—”

“Stevie?” Y/N repeats incredulously, twisting her whole body as best she can to look at Harry straight on. “You named your car?  You’re one of those guys?”

Harry finally gives Y/N a flicker of a glance, the glare obvious in his eyes even behind his dark sunglasses.  He turns his attention back to the road before replying. “Secondly—” He continues from before, ignoring her comment as his right hand readjusts the gear shift. “Driver picks the music.”

Y/N makes a face, the corners of her lips pulling down into a grimace as she settles back into the passenger seat with her arms crossed. “So we’re just going to listen to ‘Tiny Dancer’ for the entire drive, are we?”

“Not the entire drive, no.” Harry flicks on his turn signal with a ringed hand before shoulder checking to change lanes.  Y/N glances at him, her eyes training on the strained muscles in his neck as Harry continues. “We’ll listen to ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,’ too.”

“Great.” Y/N exhales slowly and presses her head back into the seat’s headrest, closing her eyes as Elton John’s voice continues to float through the speakers. “Really looking forward to it.”

“You know, maybe you should try to sleep.” Harry says, his voice prickled with irritation as Elton John bleeds into The Zombies. “I think you’ll be in a better mood after you take a nap.”

Y/N readjusts her crossed arms as she mutters a short reply. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Still, she shuts her eyes again, twisting her body towards the window in an attempt to get comfortable enough to sleep.  Being in the car with Harry is already giving her a throbbing migraine, and they’ve only been on the road for less than two hours.  Sleeping through most of the trip will probably be the only way she’ll be able to survive it.

Despite that realization, however, her phone vibrates in her lap three minutes later, pulling her away from her thoughts.  Y/N glances down at the now lit screen, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she registers the name on the message.  Opening her phone quickly, she reads over the reply as a guilty feeling begins to build in her stomach.

BRANT: Hey, what are you doing tonight?  Want to grab some dinner?

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” Y/N’s head snaps back up, her eyes jerking in Harry’s direction.  Like before, he’s watching her from the corner of his eye, catching every one of her movements, and the constant surveillance is annoying to no end.

Harry, it seems, is either oblivious to her annoyance, or is choosing to ignore it. “I asked what’s wrong. You have a weird look on your face.” Harry’s blunt words are accompanied by the sound of him tapping his ring covered fingers against the gear shift. “Everything alright?  Is it Laure and Jo?”

“No, it’s just—” Y/N glances down at her phone again, fingers poised over her keyboard as she crafts a reply in her head. “It’s no one.”

Harry snorts once, a short and harsh sound that grates against Y/N’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “I don’t buy that for a second.”

“It’s no one to you.” Y/N updates her retort, turning her full attention back to her phone. “My personal life is none of your business.”

Y/N: I’m sorry, I can’t!! Caught a last minute ride to New York with somebody.  Maybe once I’m back?

“Personal life, huh?” Harry clicks his tongue once, and the childish noise is even more irritating than his snort. “What, you can’t talk to me about whoever you’re shagging?”

The blunt remark hits Y/N like a shot to the chest, and she sputters for a moment as she struggles to form a response. “I—we’re not—” Taking a moment to gather herself and clear her throat quickly, Y/N avoids Harry’s gaze as her cheeks begin to burn. “We’re not like that. We’ve just…had a few dates, that’s all. There’s nothing…official.”

“You don’t need to be official to have a shag, now, do you?” Harry lifts his hand from the gear shift to fix his sunglasses, settling it back down on his jean covered thigh once he’s done. “If you don’t want to date the bloke—”

“I didn’t say that.” Y/N cuts over him, pulling herself from her embarrassment enough to give him a cold glare. “He’s very nice—”

“Boring, you mean—”

“And I—this is none of your business!” Feeling the flush of embarrassment rise back to her cheeks, Y/N once again turns her attention to her passenger seat window, avoiding Harry’s pressing gaze. “I’m done talking about this.”

Harry gives an indifferent shrug. “Whatever.” He says casually, tapping his finger against his thigh as his shoulders once again lift slightly beneath his fitted black t-shirt. “I just feel bad for the guy, that’s all.”

The comment is bait. And the thing is, Y/N knows it’s bait.  She knows that the only reason Harry is saying it is to get under her skin and keep her talking about Brant, further embarrassing herself in the process. She’s been around Harry enough to know how he works, and she knows that the only reason he would say that is to bait her.  She knows she shouldn’t take it.  And yet—

“There’s no reason to feel bad for him.” Y/N scoffs as she fidgets with the position of her seatbelt, trying to stop the strap from cutting into her chest. “We’ve been talking for a month, and there’s nothing official happening.  Just because you can’t go that long without trying to stick your dick in someone—”

“You have no idea what I can do, Y/N.  Don’t pretend that you do.” Harry’s tone of voice is just as scoffing as hers, his eyes still set on the road in front of them intently as he gives his sharp response. Y/N watches as he shifts the gears of the car and speeds up, just enough to make the engine roar, but not enough to lose control of the car.  Part of Y/N wistfully wishes that he would just slip up and crash the car, just so she wouldn’t have to continue this conversation.

“All I meant,” Harry continues, unaware of the dark daydreams running through Y/N’s head. “Is that I feel bad that you’re clearly not interested in him, which is proven by the fact that you haven’t wanted him in your bed.”

Irritation flares through Y/N’s body again, stronger than the embarrassment of discussing her sex life (or lack thereof) with Harry, and she half considers just grabbing the steering wheel and yanking it into a passing cliff so she can finish them off herself. “For Christ’s sake, Harry, sex isn’t the only way to—”

“I don’t mean actually having it, that’s not a given.” Harry rolls his eyes from behind his sunglasses as he slows down for a curve in the road, his practiced hands once again changing gears with ease. “You don’t have to fuck him.  But you should want to, especially if you’ve had a month of dates, and you clearly don’t want to.”

Y/N doesn’t hide the incredulous stare of disbelief on her face as she turns to look at him. Harry’s face, though turned towards the road still, has a look of amusement mixed with contemplation on it, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control not to smack the expression off of him. Although there’s the ghost of a smirk on his strawberry coloured lips, his brow is furrowed behind his sunglasses, as if he’s thinking hard about the conversation between them.  Normally, Y/N would be amazed that Harry is thinking hard about anything.  However, given that their conversation is apparently turning into whether or not she wants to have sex with someone, Y/N’s not too thrilled about his sudden investment and serious contemplation of the topic.

Shaking her head decidedly, Y/N finally spits out a finishing phrase. “You don’t know what I want.” She says decidedly, reaching into the backseat to grab the sweater she stashed back there.  She clumsily pulls it over her body without taking off her seatbelt.  Harry keeps the AC cranked as high as he can, and she knows that he’ll kill her if she tries to change it. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know more than you think.” Harry counters, the tip of his tongue running along his bottom lip. “And I’m pretty good at reading body language.  You don’t really want him.  He—what’s his name?”

Despite her better judgement, Y/N answers in a flat voice. “Brant.”

The corners of Harry’s cherry lip twitches. “Brant.  Yeah. It’s clear you don’t really want him, and you’re wasting your time.  You’re wasting his time, too.  Poor Brant.”

“Poor—you’re such an ass, you know that?” Y/N’s irritation bubbles over as she gives Harry a nasty look, her hand squeezing her thigh hard in an attempt to ground herself in their conversation. “You can try to pretend otherwise, but you don’t know anything about me, or him, so—”

“You think I’ve been friends with Laure and Jo this long and haven’t learned anything about you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, risking a glance at her as he presses a heavier foot onto the gas. “I told you, I know more than you think, and that includes your type.”

An incredulous scoff leaves Y/N’s mouth, and she shakes her head in obvious disbelief before responding. “My type.  Right. What is my type, then?  What’s Brant like, exactly, since you seem to know everything?”

Harry goes quiet then, his brow furrowing again as he returns his full attention to the road.  With his incessant chatter gone, the only sounds in the car being “Maps” playing quietly in the background and Harry’s ringed index and forefinger tap on the steering wheel.  Y/N breathes out a long sigh of satisfaction as she relaxes back in her seat, her attention turned back to the blurred landscapes speeding by her window.  Finally, she’s managed to get Harry to stop with his ridiculous assumptions—

“You like someone that’s stable and secure, so he probably works in some corporation, or an office job. Majored in business, I’d think, but has a minor in something like mathematics.” The side profile of Harry’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the thought. “He wants to work his way up in the company, but never wants to actually start anything on his own.  He likes the stability of a blueprint. You’re obsessed with punctuality, so he’s probably always on time to pick you up for dates—and he has to pick you up, because you don’t drive—and your dates are never really dates. Dinners, or movies, or something like that, but they never really have that spark.” Harry’s shoulder lift slightly as he continues to make his conclusions. “Which, honestly, is probably a big reason in why you don’t want to fuck him, because as much as you like stability and safety, you also like the idea of a grand gesture, or something like that.  And you probably split the bill a lot at dinner, right?  Because it just seems fair, but really it’s because you know it’s not a real date.  But it passes the time, and he’s nice, so it’s fine.  But it’s only fine.” Harry licks his lips once more as he collects his next thoughts, his teeth catching his bottom lip just barely as his tongue retreats back into his mouth. “And he’s probably already talking about you coming to meet his family for some holiday.  Not in a romantic way, but just because he likes to plan everything in advance to every minute detail.  Just like you.”

Halfway through Harry’s speech, a flush had begun to creep up Y/N’s neck, continuing to warm her jaw and ears before settling on the apples of her cheeks.  She keeps her eyes trained on her window and her mouth pressed into a tight line, refusing to look at Harry and give him any hint of just how shocked she is that he’s guessed so much.

Harry, however, doesn’t plan on letting her get away from his inquisition. “Well?” He impatiently prompts after a moment, and even though she’s not looking at him, she can feel him looking at her, his emerald irises burning into the back of her head. “Am I right?”

“I—” Y/N clears her throat quickly, but her voice is still strained and tight when she replies. “No.”

Harry hums low in his throat, and his voice is laced with curiosity with he replies. “Really?” The irritating tap of his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music continues. “What did I get wrong?”

“He—” Y/N hates the way her skin is burning from his interrogation, how her voice shrinks smaller and smaller the more she speaks.  If Harry knows her so well, then he knows how much she loves being in control, and in this situation, with Harry managing to pull every one of her most secret inner thoughts and feelings out of her without trouble, she feels anything but in control. “He has a minor in accounting, not mathematics.”

The laugh that leaves Harry’s mouth is loud and bombastic, and his whole body curves over the steering wheel as the sound rolls out of him, his eyes just barely managing to stay on the road while his sunglasses slide down his nose. “Right.” Harry says between belly laughs, his voice stretched out in amusement. “But everything else was spot on?”

Y/N keeps her stiff body turned towards the window, refusing to engage in the conversation any further. That doesn’t stop Harry, however, who fixes his sunglasses as chuckles continue to roll out of him.

“I take it back. Maybe he’s the one wasting your time.” His hand runs through his hair lazily, fixing the curled strands that had fallen into his eyes as he laughed. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to sleep with your bore of a boyfriend—”

“He’s stable!” Y/N breaks her silence to protest Harry’s words, her voice heated. “And he’s not my boyfriend.  We’ve been seeing each other, but we’re not—it’s not exclusive, or—nothing serious—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.  It’s fine.” Harry waves off her arguments with a flick of his tattooed hand. “Besides, like you said, it’s none of my business, right?”

Y/N can practically picture what Harry looks like in this moment.  His chestnut curls are probably a mess from fidgeting with them, and his cheeks are most likely rosy beneath his stubble from the peels of laughter that left his equally red lips a moment ago.  Most infuriatingly of all, his dimples are probably present, making little indentations in his cheeks to show how entertaining he’s found embarrassing her. Bastard, she thinks, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dig into her palms, pressing them into her sides beneath her makeshift blanket.

She refuses to let herself confirm if her suspicions about Harry’s appearance are correct, and instead keeps her gaze on the blurred trees whipping by outside her window. “Right.” She mutters, leaning her head against the headrest as she closes her eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

…

As soon as the paint-peeled door to the motel room swings open, Y/N knows that she’s not going to be sleeping soundly tonight.

She’s not sure what her first hint should have been.  Perhaps it was the half-flickering blue and red light of the Motel 6 sign that should have tipped her off, or the front-desk attendant who looked as though he was hiding a few secrets himself.  When Y/N and Harry had first approached the front desk of the tiny, vaguely mildew-smelling lobby, their clothes rumpled from the drive and their attitudes just as bothered, the employee in the Motel 6 uniform had barely raised an eye at them, not bothering to look up from his computer until Y/N and Harry were directly in front of him.

“Hi.” Harry had said, his voice taking on a cautious but polite tone that, Y/N remembers thinking, she would have appreciated hearing throughout their eight hour drive that day. “We’d like two rooms, please—”

“Here.” The attendant’s gum snapped in his mouth as he reached behind himself and grabbed an old key with a flimsy blue plastic tag from a wall of empty pegs. “Queen sized bed, the first door on the left.  It’ll do you two nicely.”

“Um, no.” Harry cleared his throat loudly as he gave a slight shake of his head. “We need two rooms.”

Finally, the attendant looked towards them, his eyes scanning Harry before Y/N.  The latter had self consciously pulled her sweater around her, as there was something in the attendant’s eyes that had bothered her. “Don’t have two rooms.  I got one room left.  Everything else is booked.”

Harry had glanced at Y/N then, and she knew that his thoughts mirrored hers: there was no way that they’d share a queen bed together.  No way in hell.  They’d barely survived eight hours in the same cramped car without one of them driving them off a cliff.  If Y/N had to share a bed with Harry, even for just one night, she’d probably end up smothering him in his sleep before the first snore left his obnoxious mouth.

“That’s really not an option.” Y/N had stepped forward then, crossing her arms around herself as the attendant’s eyes canvassed her again. “Isn’t there something—”

“Look, lady, I’m telling you what’s available.” The attendant’s eyes continued to flicker between her face and her chest, making Y/N’s skin crawl more and more with every word that fell from his gum-filled mouth. “The room might have a pull out chair—some do, but I couldn’t tell you which.  Now do you want to share the room with him or not?  If you don’t want to share, then I could try to find something else for just you—”

Before Y/N had the opportunity to respond to the lewd suggestion, Harry was already stepping forward, his body angling protectively in front of her own.  She watched from behind as his broad shoulders squared beneath his black t-shirt, his shoulder blades flexing as he straightened up to his full height.  When Harry answered, his voice was just as firm as it was dark, lacking its previous polite tone.

“We’ll take the room.” He had said coldly, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet before tossing a few bills on the front desk. “Thanks for the help.”

Yes, Y/N thinks, all of that should have been a sign for the state of the motel room that they now find themselves standing inside.

The same mildew smell from the lobby surrounds them, permeating through every inch of air that Y/N breathes in. Dust seems to coat every surface as well, with thick layers of it covering the decades old TV and stand, the small coffee table, and the ledge of the window to her right.  To her relief, there is a small arm chair in the corner, which must be the pull out that the attendant had mentioned.  However, her relief is short lived when she sees the ratty beige comforter on the bed, and wonders if maybe sleeping in Harry’s car, which she had sworn to him that she didn’t want to do, might have been the better choice.

Harry shuts the door behind them with a firm thud, turning the deadbolt lock before attaching the chain from the door to the door frame. “Let’s keep that locked, yeah?” He mutters, walking to the window and making sure the beige curtains—everything in the room is a sea of beige, like some sort of khaki coloured nightmare—are pulled closed tightly. “I don’t trust that front-desk prick not to sneak in here.”

Y/N nods, fixing the strap of her duffel bag with her overnight clothes on her shoulder.  She’s not quite sure where to set it down, as everything around them seems to have been sitting stagnant and uncleaned for a while. “Yeah. Thanks, by the way.  For that.”

Harry acknowledges her thanks with a small grunt, barely lifting his head to look at her. “You don’t need to thank me.”

Despite her gratitude for his actions, Y/N can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes at his gruff response. “Jesus, can you not just say you’re welcome?”

Harry chooses to ignore her comment, and instead sets his bag down on the arm chair, unzipping it roughly. “You can take the bed.” He says simply, tossing his sunglasses into his bag before pulling out a small bag filled with what Y/N assumes are toiletries. “I’ll take the pullout.”

“Fine.” Y/N reluctantly sets her own bag down on the creaking bed, pulling back the covers to check for anything unsightly.  To her relief, the interior of the bed looks cleaner than the exterior, and she returns the covers to their previous position before grabbing her phone charger from her duffel.

Harry glances at her as she gingerly sits on the bed and plugs her phone into the wall. “I’m going to shower.” He says slowly, as if gauging her reaction to the simple phrase. “Do you, um, need in there, or—?”

“Nope.” Y/N shakes her head, her cheeks flushing slightly as she checks her messages. “You’re good.” She keeps her eyes glued to her phone until she hears the click of the bathroom door behind Harry, signalling that she’s alone.

Taking advantage of what she knows will be a rare moment of solitude over the next week, Y/N changes from her tank top and leggings into her pajamas, wishing that her past self had realized how likely it would be that she’d be sharing a room with Harry. She’d brought exactly two pairs of pajamas with her on the trip, and neither pairs were something she wanted Harry to see her in.  The first pair, a baby pink silk set she’d bought on a whim from her favourite lingerie shop, is eliminated before Y/N even considers them, leaving her with just her usual casual pajamas.  Unfortunately, Y/N’s usual casual pajamas consist of an old sports bra that she’d had since moving to L.A., and a pair of men’s boxers that she stole from an ex in college.  Still, despite her hesitancy, she knows that plaid boxers and a faded grey sports bra are better than pink silk and lace, and she changes into them quickly before sitting cross-legged on the bed and dialing Jo’s number.

Jo, like she usually does, answers on the third ring, her voice extra chipper to compensate for the verbal lecture that she knows is coming. “Hey, Y/N!  How was driving today?”

“It would have been better if I’d known Harry was driving.” Y/N sighs, rubbing her palm over the cold skin of her exposed thigh. “Shouldn’t I have been informed of that decision?”

“It completely slipped my mind, actually.” Jo says casually, and Y/N can just picture her leaning her chin into her palm. “How was the first day?  Are you calling to ask me to help bury his body in the desert?  Because, like, you know I would in a heart beat, but I think it may put a damper on mine and Laure’s nuptials if my best friend murders her best friend.”

“No one’s been murdered. Yet.” Y/N glances at the bathroom door, the sound of the shower echoing through the vents and into the bedroom. “Although a ‘help me hide the body’ phone call may be coming soon.”

“Uh oh.” Y/N hears something crackling against the speaker, and pictures Jo shifting the phone from one ear to the other. “Is it that bad?”

Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose as she contemplates the easiest way to answer Jo’s question. “He’s such an irritating ass.  He really is.” She lowers her voice, but only slightly.  If Harry’s eavesdropping, she thinks, then let him hear.  It would serve him right. “He wanted to pick a fight over every little thing, and he’s so particular about his car—did you know he named it?  He named it, Jo.  He talks about it like it’s a person!”

A loud sigh echoes through the speaker. “That’s really not that weird, you know.” Jo replies in her best peace keeping voice. “And, by the way, did you know that you’re really the only person who finds Harry irritating?  Laure adores him, and I really like him, and everyone who meets him thinks he’s very thoughtful!”

“Then they haven’t been trapped in a car with him and his playlists for eight hours.” Y/N begins to tap her fingers against her knee in a quick staccato pattern. “He practically interrogated me about Brant today, as if he has any clue about the people I date.”

“Did he?” There’s a trace of curiosity in Jo’s voice now, and Y/N can imagine her leaning forward in interest. “What did he say?”

“He said he thinks he’s boring.” Twisting a lock of her hair behind her ear as she speaks, Y/N leaves her hand resting against her cheek. “He was rude about it, too.  I didn’t ask for his opinion.”

“Well, honestly, Y/N…” Jo’s curiosity twists into hesitation. “Brant isn’t exactly the most thrilling person.  You know that.”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, her cheeks flushing for what seems to be the millionth time that day. “I’m aware of that.  But he didn’t need to be so smug about it!”

“Okay, well, what’s done is done.” Jo says as she takes on her mediator persona once again. “So there’s nothing else to do now except go to sleep, get back in the car tomorrow, and continue driving.”

The sound of the shower stream cuts off, leaving just the pitter patter of rain beginning to hit the roof of the motel as ambiant noise. “I guess.” Y/N mumbles, fidgeting with the waistband of her bra. “I’ll talk to you later.  Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

After the line clicks dead, Y/N flops back on the squeaking mattress and begins to scroll through her phone, opening her work email to check if everything is running okay back home while she’s gone.  On top of all this, the last thing she needs is for her work to completely blow up in her absence.  Within minutes, Y/N becomes so engrossed in her phone that she doesn’t even notice the bathroom door creaking open and Harry walking out with just a towel around his waist.

Until she looks up, and then her mind goes completely blank.

Immediately, Y/N feels overstimulated.  There’s just…so much going on that she doesn’t even know where to look first, let alone have the ability to remind herself that she shouldn’t even be looking at Harry like this in the first place.  

Harry’s curls are soaking wet, curling down around his flushed cheeks in a way that, if it were anyone else, she’d immediately describe as attractive.  Droplets of water are clinging to every inch of his skin, his toned and tanned and tattooed skin, that seems to continue forever as her eyes travel down his bare chest, noticing every curve of his muscle.  His jade cross, which is almost the exact shade of his eyes, sits between his pronounced pectoral muscles, moving ever so slightly with each step he takes.  Y/N notices tattoos she’s never seen before, like the giant butterfly across his toned stomach, and—her mind goes blank for just a moment—two vines that are tattooed over his prominent pelvic muscles, which just barely dip beneath the white towel that’s wrapped loosely around his hips.

As Y/N’s eyes glue themselves to the way Harry’s towel is moving as he walks, arousal begins to pool in her stomach, travelling all the way down to her core and back again.  For a split second, she thinks that maybe Harry is right.  Maybe she doesn’t want to fuck Brant, because she knows for certain that she’s never thought about him the way she’s thinking about Harry in this moment.

But it’s Harry, she reminds herself, as she tries to force herself to snap her gaping mouth closed. Underneath all those muscles and tattoos—and there are a lot of muscles and tattoos—it’s Harry, who annoys her to no end, who is one of the most self-absorbed individuals she’s ever met, and who has had it out for her since the day they met.

“Sorry.” Harry’s low accent snaps Y/N from her thoughts and pulls her wandering eyes back to his face. “Forgot my clothes out here.”

“It’s—” Y/N’s voice cracks in the middle of the word, still hyper-focused on just how it’s possible for one person to be as attractive as they are irritating, and she clears her throat before trying to speak again. “It’s fine.”

If Harry notices the slip in Y/N’s voice, he doesn’t say anything.  Instead, he just walks to his open bag, locking one hand firmly over his towel as the other searches through his clothes.  He pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, examining them for just a moment before nodding in satisfaction and heading back to the bathroom. Y/N almost swears that she sees him glance at her one last time before he shuts the door, but then she gets lost in the taut muscles of his back, and forgets what she’s thinking entirely.

She’s only just begun to contemplate that maybe she should pull herself together when the door opens again, and Harry exits the bathroom in a way that’s a little more presentable.  His hair is still damp, but his body is dry, proven by the faded Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s now clinging to his arms and the boxers that are hanging low on his hips. His tattooed hips.  His incredibly sexy tattooed hips that could probably—

“What are you wearing?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow at her as he moves his bag from the chair to the ground.  He begins to unfold the bed from the armchair cushions to reveal a creaking twin bed, carefully stretching it out as he waits for an answer.

“I—pajamas.” Y/N glances down at herself self consciously, fixing the strap of her sports bra as she does so. “I just—I didn’t think we’d be sharing a room, so…”

Harry nods tersely as he finishes setting up the bed, his expression unreadable while he walks to the closet and grabs a set of sheets and a blanket. “Cute boxers.” He says casually. “Are they Brant’s?”

Within a flash, the intense rush of attraction and desire Y/N had been feeling is gone, and is instead replaced by the familiar irritation as she watches a smirk grow in the very corner of Harry’s mouth. “No.” She says flatly, turning her attention back to her phone.

“Interesting.” Harry says slowly, laying the sheets and blanket on the bed in a haphazard manner. “Whose are they, then?”

Y/N gets up from the bed and grabs her toiletry bag from her duffel before answering. “An ex.” She says shortly, tucking the patterned bag under her arm. “And why does it matter to you?”

The sound of the rain against the roof and windows gets louder and louder as they speak, and Harry raises his voice to be heard over the precipitation. “It doesn’t.” He shrugs as he maneuvers his lanky body under the blanket without causing the bed to fold in on itself. “Just curious, that’s all.”

“Well, you don’t need to be curious.” Y/N opens the bathroom door, sparing one last withering glance at Harry over her shoulder.  He’s sitting up on the bed with one leg hanging out from beneath the covers as one hand plays with his hair, the other fiddles with a ring on his finger, and the way he looks at her from the corner of his eye lights a fire in Y/N’s chest.  Except she can’t tell if it’s a fire of anger or arousal.  

When she slams the door behind her, it’s her own confusion over that distinction that frustrates her more than anything else.

…

“Took you long enough.” Harry scoffs while leaning against the side of his car, his white t-shirt a contrast to the dust covered body of the black Chevy Impala.  His dark sunglasses are perched on top of his head, keeping his unruly curls out of his eyes, while his arms are crossed over his chest impatiently as he waits for an answer. “I dropped off the keys ten minutes ago.”

By way of explanation, Y/N holds up the cardboard drink tray in her hands, a brown bag balancing in between the two coffee cups. “I was getting us breakfast, Styles.  Calm down.” She walks to the passenger side of the car, opening the door and climbing in one handed. “I figured you’d be even crabbier hungry.”

“You mean you’d be crabbier without caffeine.” Harry retorts, climbing into the driver’s side in one smooth motion. “Here—” He takes the tray from her so she can buckle her seatbelt, carefully removing the two coffees and setting them in the cup holders between them. “Just be careful not to spill anything.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she picks up the coffee closest to her (she’d gotten them both black). “Why? Worried about me ruining Stevie?”

Harry reaches into his pocket, pulling out his keys as he gives her an irritated look. “Yes, actually. I’ve put a lot of work into her.” The car roars to life as Harry turns the key in the ignition, buckling his own seat as the motor warms up. “Adding on two thousand miles to her in five days is already worrisome enough, and that’s not even counting the other two thousand she’ll get on the way back.”

Y/N doesn’t respond to the comment, and instead lets the sound of Harry’s playlist fill the silence of the car as Harry peels out of the Motel 6 parking lot.  She’ll be glad to leave that place behind, she thinks, and focus on finding something better—and more private—for tonight, wherever they end up.

Harry, however, doesn’t seem content with letting silence fall between them. “How did you sleep last night?” He asks after a few moments, one hand on the steering wheel as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye suspiciously, Y/N reaches into the paper bag and grabs her Danish, taking a small bite before answering. “Not great.”

“Was the bed bad?” Harry asks curiously, his brow furrowing while his eyes stay glued to the road, moving only to glance at the occasion sign directing him back to the highway. “The pull out wasn’t great, but I’ve slept on worse.  I would’ve thought the bed would be better than that.”

“No, it—I mean, the bed wasn’t amazing, but it—” Y/N clears her throat and swallows the bite of pastry in her mouth. “I, uh, I don’t sleep well when it’s raining.”

At this new information, Harry’s eyebrow quirks up, and he risks a look in her direction to attempt to read her face.  Y/N’s own eyes are focused on the Danish in her hands, refusing to meet his gaze as she lifts the pastry to her mouth to take another bite.

“You don’t?” Harry asks after a moment, the confusion in his voice almost visible within the space between them. “But it’s like white noise, isn’t it?  Supposed to be relaxing, and all that.”

Y/N gives a half shrug of her shoulders. “It’s—well, it’s not the rain, exactly, just—what it’s usually paired with.” Y/N hopes that her clear hesitancy to answer will be enough of a signal to Harry for him to drop the subject.  Harry, however, doesn’t seem to pick up on the reluctance in Y/N’s voice; or, at least, he doesn’t care enough to acknowledge it.

“What do you mean, what it’s paired with?” Harry takes a small sip of his own coffee, careful of the temperature of the liquid. “Like…wind, or—?”

Y/N debates back and forth with herself internally, but she knows that Harry won’t drop the subject without getting a satisfying answer. “Thunder.” She answers finally, setting her coffee down in her cup holder before turning her gaze towards her window. “I don’t like thunderstorms, ever since I was a little kid, and when it’s raining, it always feels like thunder is around the corner.  Puts me on edge, like I’m waiting for it.  And I can’t sleep.”

“So you never sleep when it rains?” Harry asks slowly, and the tone of incredulous disbelief in Harry’s voice is enough for Y/N to be able to imagine the expression on his face. His forest green eyes wide, strawberry pink lips agape, brow furrowed in confusion, his jaw slack as he contemplates a response to a grown woman admitting that she’s afraid of thunder. The image in her head is enough to make the back of her neck flush.

There’s a tightness in the back of her throat, and Y/N attempts to clear it again before answering. “Never.”

“Huh.” Harry taps his fingers against the gear shift in succession three times. “You’d hate London, then.”

The casual comment catches Y/N by surprise, but she doesn’t allow herself to lower her guard. “That’s why I don’t live in London.” She mumbles the words as her fingers pick at the napkin wrapped around her Danish. “I picked L.A. for a reason.  It has lots of heat, barely any rain, and I’m reasonably close to Disneyland whenever I feel like I need something magical.” The last part slips out without Y/N thinking, and the flush creeps further up her neck as a surprised laugh leaves Harry’s mouth.

“Something magical?” Harry repeats, new crinkles appearing next to his eyes as he laughs, as if the dimples that crease his cheeks aren’t proof of his amusement enough. “Do you frequently feel like you need something magical?”

It’s Y/N’s turn to give an incredulous look now, her body half twisting towards Harry to observe his confusing reactions. “How did I just admit that I’m afraid of thunder, and the thing you’re focusing on is that I like Disney?”

Harry shrugs at her words, flicking on his turn signal to exit towards the highway. “I don’t know.” He says as he peers over his shoulder to check for oncoming cars. “I mean, everyone has fears.  Not liking thunder isn’t exactly uncommon, you know.  However, hearing that Ms. Serious Type A Perfectionist likes magic—” His grin grows bigger by the second. “Now that’s surprising.”

“Oh, shut up.” Y/N mutters, finishing her Danish in a few more bites.  She waits until she’s entirely finished chewing before continuing the conversation over the voice of Billy Joel coming through the speakers. “Since I’ve admitted something I’m afraid of…” She starts, glancing at Harry from the corner of her eye. “I think it’s only fair that you admit something, too.”

Harry snorts in response, his hand freezing its movement with his coffee cup still half lifted to his lips. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” Y/N hums as she slips off her shoes in order to pull her legs beneath her to fold into a cross-legged position on the car seat. “Not so much fun when it’s your turn, huh? C’mon, what’s the Brit scared of? Not enough biscuits for afternoon tea?”

A short and harsh breath of air leaves Harry’s nose, half a snort as he sets his coffee down in his cupholder. “No, actually, diminishing biscuit levels are a low level fear for me.”

“Then what’s a higher one?” Y/N prods, watching as Harry’s neck muscles tense as he shoulder checks to change lanes.  There’s something about the movement that catches her eye, but she can’t quite figure out why—or rather, she can, but she’d rather pretend that she’s unaware.

“Uh…” Harry’s fingers nimbly switch on his turn signal before he transitions to the left lane, his right hand moving the gear shift to its desired place. “Crowds.  I’m not a fan of big crowds, really.  Like when everyone’s pressed together, so tight that you can’t breathe, and you can’t hear yourself think because it’s so loud…yeah. I don’t like that.”

The simple answer surprises Y/N as much as she imagines her answer surprised Harry. “Crowds?” She repeats back to him, a forgotten memory of long gone conversations coming to the forefront of her mind. “But what about, like, concerts and stuff?  Laure always told me when she’d go to shows with you…”

“That’s different.” Harry shrugs as one of his ringed hands comes to his lips, rubbing over them slowly as he contemplates his next words. “I…When I’m at concerts, I always go with someone, and if we’re in the general seating area, where there’s a lot of people, I always stick with them.  Like, sometimes, if it’s getting crowded, or people are pushing, Laure will hold my hand, so…” Redness begins to creep up Harry’s pale neck, staining the tops of his ears a deep berry colour as he trails off.

Not for the first time since their conversation began, Y/N is surprised at how candid they’re being with each other.  As she watches Harry’s blush grow, she feels her own diminish, a physical representation of her trading her embarrassment for something more empathetic.

“I get it.” Y/N says after a moment, once it’s clear that Harry isn’t going to continue. “When there’s thunderstorms, um, I feel better when I’m with someone, or talking to someone. It makes me feel less…”

“Alone?” Harry finishes for her, his eyes flickering from the road to her profile.  His green irises capture hers for longer than they should, his focus completely gone from the stretch of highway for at least five seconds before Harry’s attention turns back to driving. “Yeah.” He says slowly, pulling his sunglasses down from his hair to hide his eyes. “Yeah, less alone. It helps.”

Y/N nods slowly, unable to look away from Harry’s side profile.  It’s apparent that he’s on edge after their conversation, and she knows her body language is the same.  Tight in the shoulders, hands clenched, back rigidly straight.  And yet, seeing her own body language reflected in front of her bothers her.  Part of her wants to reach out and take Harry’s hand, soothe him like Laure does in the crowd of a concert, but she knows that’s ridiculous.  It’s ridiculous, and it’s Harry, and Harry, of all people, does not need her comfort.  Not in the slightest.

She watches as Harry clenches his fist on top of his thigh.

…

“Is this really necessary?” Y/N asks, slamming her car door shut as Harry does the same on the other side of the vehicle.  She leans over the roof of the car, crossing her arms on the cool metal as she tilts her head to the side in an inquisitive manner.  The clouds in the sky are getting darker by the minute, signalling the beginning of the storm that canceled her flight, and the angry black colour above their heads is making Y/N anxious.

Harry, however, seems unbothered by the gathering storm, and nods tersely as he pushes his sunglasses up onto his head before opening the door to the backseat and grabbing his army green jacket. “Of course it’s necessary.” He says, slipping the jacket over his broad shoulders before slamming the door shut and locking the car. “I’ve never been to Utah before.  I want a souvenir.”

“Okay, but—” Y/N follows Harry as he walks towards the dilapidated building in front of them. “Here? Really?  Does this seem like the best place?”

Harry glances at her over his shoulder at her, pausing his long strides to look up at the building he spotted from the highway.  If the chipped grey paint that was once pastel blue and dust-coated windows are any sign, the structure is probably older than Harry and Y/N combined, with a splintered front porch wrapping around its small perimeter.  The building has one faded sign above the door that reads “SOUVENIRS/SNACKS” in hand-painted capital letters, and seems to be hanging onto the outside façade by three small bolts and sheer willpower.  Y/N’s almost certain that she’s seen this exact building in a horror movie before someone gets murdered, and while getting back into the car with Harry isn’t at the top of her list of wants, it’s certainly preferable to getting stabbed to death by a serial killer.

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Harry waves off her concern without a second thought about the appearance of the shop. “If you’re really bothered, you can wait in the car.”

Y/N considers it for a moment, but decides against it.  She needs to stretch her legs, and honestly, Harry seems too trusting.  He probably wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was sketchy until their knife was in his back.  And, seeing as how he has the keys to the only getaway car available, Y/N kind of needs him around without a stab wound carved into his flesh.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She sighs, pulling her own jacket around her tighter as she steps over the worn wooden steps to the door. “We’re on a schedule.”

When Harry pushes open the door, the smell of stale air hits Y/N before anything else.  Despite one open window and a fan in the corner of the shop that’s being used in a weak attempt to circulate the air, it feels like nothing fresh has been in the shop for a while.  Y/N shoots a glance at Harry, caution and warning written all over her face.

While Harry sees her glance, he waves off her concern, turning his attention to the few shelves and wire racks around the small shop that are lined with inventory.  Within a few moments, he’s entertaining himself in the post card section, comparing different photos of the Utah landscape to each other with great care and concern.  Y/N observes him for a few moments before wandering off on her own towards the snack section of the shop.  Although there are a few items that she thinks about picking up, the thick layer of dust over the packaging puts her off from purchasing them.  She grimaces as she continues walking, stopping in front of a tower of silver key chains in the back corner of the shop.  Most of them, she finds, are crosses and bible verses, and all of them give her an ominous feeling in her stomach.  Y/N runs her finger over a miniature silver version of the Ten Commandments, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she does so.

“I think we should go, Harry.” She calls to him without turning around, setting the key chain back down on the rack carefully. “Just pick your post card and—Harry?”

When Y/N turns around, Harry’s broad figure is nowhere to be seen.  She walks back over to the post card section slowly, her brow furrowed with confusion as a knot tightens in her stomach.  Where could he be? She wonders, running her hand along the dusty wire rack in front of her.  It’s not like there’s anywhere for him to go in the small shop, and she would have heard if he left, or if he drove away.

“Harry?” She calls again, her steps slower now as worry fills her voice. “Where did you—fuck—!” Y/N screams as something grabs her from behind, its fingers digging into her sides harshly.  She whips around to find Harry standing over her, loud outbursts of laughter spilling from his strawberry pink mouth at the look on her face.

An indignant flush rushes over Y/N’s face. “You’re such an ass!” She hisses, gripping his shoulders and shoving his laughing frame away from her. “I swear, you’re like a five year old—”

“Did I worry you?” Harry snickers between his words, a wicked look of mischief alight in his dark green eyes. “Were you afraid something happened to me?”

Y/N’s cheeks burn with anger as she turns away from him, crossing her arms defiantly. “No.  I wish something had happened to you.  Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your immature antics.”

Harry’s lips stay quirked up in a smirk as he follows her, his voice falling into a singsong tone. “You were worried.” He insists, chuckles still rolling out of him every few moments. “I could tell.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Y/N snaps at him in an irritated voice. “Just pay for your stupid post card and let’s go.”

“I already did. There’s a sign on the desk saying the clerk is out for lunch, so I left some money.” Harry nods to the small desk in the corner with a few dollars left tucked under the dusty service bell. “I think that’ll cover it, yeah?”

“Whatever.” Y/N can’t resist shoving Harry one last time before walking towards the shop door. “That’s enough.  Let’s go. I want to make it to the motel before the storm hits.”

…

The nice thing about Grand Junction, Colorado, Y/N realizes, is that their motels have multiple single rooms available on short notice.  While she didn’t realize the importance of this fact before this trip started, having an evening of solitude and her own stable space away from Harry for the first time in two days is nothing short of a blessing.

When she gets inside her private motel room, which, while still shabby, is leagues above their previous motel, Y/N locks the door before breathing a sigh of relief.  Just the silence in the room is wonderful, and even though she knows Harry is right next door, having a wall between them is a luxury that she doesn’t take for granted.  When she showers, she doesn’t have to worry about being quick, or toweling off as fast as she can so she can get dressed inside the bathroom without Harry seeing. There’s no need to worry about anyone hearing Y/N sing quietly to herself under the (albeit weak) stream of the shower, nor is there an uncomfortable stick of her sports bra to her back caused by water droplets that she couldn’t reach in her hurry to dry off. And after her shower, with some of the knots from her back finally worked out, Y/N is able to stretch out on the double bed in the center of the room, her phone in her hand as she reaches for the takeout menus stacked on the bedside table.  She peruses the menus available before settling on Chinese takeout, and within five minutes, her order of a two entrée plate and fried rice is on its way.

Y/N sighs gently as she leans back on the pillows, wishing that she and Harry had stopped at a liquor store before coming to the motel.  She knows she could probably walk to one, but now that she’s showered and comfortable, the last thing she wants to do is wander around Grand Junction until she finds a bottle of Moscato.  Instead, Y/N flicks on the TV with a click of the ancient remote, and begins scrolling through the channels until she finds a rerun of Dirty Dancing that’s just starting.

An amused yet wry smile appears on Y/N’s lips.  It’s this movie’s fault that she and Harry are on an impromptu road trip, really. Jo and Laure both loved it, and were insistent that they had to get married at a resort in the Catskills similar to one from the film.  As her two friends cross her mind, Y/N settles into the sheets as Baby begins her narration, contemplating whether or not she should call Jo to check in.  Just as the thought pops into her head, however, the phone rings.

Y/N answers within a moment, not bothering to check the caller ID.  She and Jo had a strange habit of calling each other the moment the other thought of it, and when she raises her phone to her ear, she expects to hear her best friend’s familiar voice reply. “Hello?”

What voice she actually hears, however, surprises her. “Hey, Y/N.  I’m glad I got through.” Brant says easily, his voice crackling slightly through the speaker. “How are you?”

“Brant!” Y/N jerks up in bed in surprise, the remote falling from its perch on her stomach onto the sheets. “I—I’m fine.  How are you?”

“Oh, alright.  Just busy with work, but that’s the usual.” Y/N can practically picture the neutral expression on his face, and how he’d shrug his shoulders as he speaks. “How’s the road trip?  I can’t imagine driving for as long as you have to drive.”

“It’s…it’s alright, yeah.” Y/N speaks slowly as she puts her phone on speaker, balancing it on her knee while her hands begin to fidget with her rings. “Long, but not too bad.”

“Well, that’s good.” Brant clears his throat thickly, as if what he’s about to say makes him uncomfortable. “I miss you, though.  And our weekly dinners.”

A feeling of guilt washes over Y/N.  Truthfully, besides Harry’s inquisition on the first day of driving, Brant has barely crossed her mind.  Granted, he isn’t usually at the forefront of her mind while she’s in L.A., either, but for the last few days, her thoughts have been constantly consumed by the stress of making it to the wedding and her annoyance and frustration with Harry.  

“Y/N?” Brant’s voice crackles through her speaker again. “Are you there?

“I—yeah.” She says quickly, pulling herself from her thoughts. “Sorry, just—long day.  I’m tired.”

“I can imagine.” Brant says sympathetically, but there’s something in his tone that almost sounds patronizing. “Who are you driving with?  Have you been taking turns?”

Y/N pauses the fidgeting of her rings before snatching her phone from its balanced place on her knee. She quickly opens her messages and scrolls to her thread with Brant, searching through the text bubbles for a reminder of what she’d said to him.  Had she not told him that she was traveling with Harry?

Within a moment, Y/N confirms that she hadn’t.  All she had said was that she was getting a ride with someone.  Why had she done that, she wonders?  She’s sure she’s mentioned Harry in passing to Brant at least once.  When she talked about the wedding, probably.  As she thinks about it more, however…what had she told Brant about the wedding?  About Jo? How much does he actually know about her personal life?  Most of their dinner conversations revolve around work, or some book both of them have read.  Had the topic ever come up in detail?

“I’m, um, I’m driving with one of Laure’s friends.” Y/N brings the phone closer to her mouth as her other hand works its way to her mouth.  She begins to chew on a hangnail absentmindedly between her words, something she always does when her nerves begin to get to her.  She can’t count the number of times Jo has grasped her wrist and pulled her hand from her mouth to chastise her about the habit. “We’re…we’re in Colorado now.”

“Oh, Colorado.  That’s nice.” Brant says over the rustling of papers. “Listen, Y/N, I’ve got some work to get back to, but I’m glad we had this talk. I’ll call you again soon.”

“Uh, yeah.  Sure.  I’ll talk to you later.” Y/N nods, and then the line goes dead.  Out of curiosity, Y/N checks the length of the call.  The time 3:09 blinks back at her.

Tossing her phone back down on the covers, Y/N resumes her relaxed position in bed, despite being anything but relaxed after that phone call.  She should feel guilty, she thinks, for not telling Brant about Harry. But then again, what’s there to tell? She said she was getting a ride with one of Laure’s friends, and that’s true.  She hadn’t lied.  And even if Brant did know that the friend is Harry, why would he care?  It’s just Harry.  There’s no reason for Brant to be alarmed, because there’s nothing going on. And she and Brant…Y/N glances down at the call time again.  Things are different between them.  There’s…they’re comfortable as they are, she thinks.  They’re not dating, and they’re comfortable like that.  So there’s no reason to tell him about Harry, because there’s nothing to tell.  Nothing at all.

Y/N refocuses on the TV screen, where Patrick Swayze is dancing in a tight black tank top. Right.  Nothing to tell.

…

When Y/N leaves her motel room the next morning with her bag over her shoulder, Harry is already waiting by his car, leaning against the dusty black body with two coffee cups in his hands.  He’s dressed in another black t-shirt (Y/N wonders just how many identical copies of the same shirt Harry has) with usual jeans covering his long legs.  His curls are tied out of his face with a dark green bandana, and Y/N knows that if his eyes weren’t covered with his black sunglasses, the bandana would make them even brighter than they usually are.

“Hey.” Harry calls to her, extending a ringed hand that holds a coffee cup towards her as she walks over. “I got the coffee this morning.  You drink it black, right?”

Y/N nods as she takes the cup from him, careful not to brush over his fingers with her own. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Harry crosses around to the back of the car, opening the trunk with a turn of his key. “Here.” Harry holds out his free hand for Y/N’s bag, taking it from her and setting it down on top of the suitcases in the back. “I got it.”

Y/N regards Harry with a bemused look as she wraps both hands around her coffee cup. “Thanks?” She says again, more questioning this time as she looks at him strangely. “I can do that myself, you know.”

“I know.  I’m just trying to be polite.” Harry’s voice takes on its usual bite like he’s flipping a switch. “Is that alright with you, princess?”

Within a second, the familiar irritation with Harry returns to Y/N, and it’s almost comforting to snap back at him in a testy voice. “Don’t call me that.”

Harry snickers under his breath, and although the sound makes Y/N’s annoyance grow, she detects a different tone in it than a few days before.  Before she can place a finger on why it sounds different, however, Harry is climbing into the driver’s side of the car and starting the engine.

The two of them are silent as Harry finds his way back to the highway, and they stay in that silence for the first few hours of that day’s leg of the trip.  As the third hour begins to pass, Y/N is content listening to the throaty and captivating voice of Stevie Nicks fill the cab of the car. By the second chorus of the song, Y/N is humming along quietly, her foot tapping to the same beat that Harry’s fingers are spelling out against the steering wheel.  It’s comfortable, she thinks after a moment.  The silence between them.  It feels different than it did on their first day, when Y/N was questioning her choice to get into a car with Harry and commit to a 42 hour drive. The silence seems to be fueled more by comfort than tension.  It’s…refreshing.

A memory from the first day ignites in the back of her mind, a spark so bright and obvious that she can’t believe it took her so long to see it. “Stevie.” Y/N says suddenly, turning to Harry as a smile spreads over her face. “You named your car Stevie, as in Stevie Nicks?”

Harry laughs, his shoulders moving up and down beneath his black t-shirt from the motion.  One hand lifts from the steering wheel and points a finger gun at her. “Took you long enough.  I was wondering how many days you’d have to listen to my music to get it.”

Y/N gives his hand a light shove. “I was too distracted by the fact that you named your car.” She rolls her eyes, bringing her bottle of water to her lips for a short sip. “I still think it’s weird.”

“It gives her character.” Harry defends himself as he rubs a hand over the steering wheel absentmindedly. Y/N can see the mirth swirling around in his light irises. “A bit of personality.  Just because you don’t value personalities doesn’t mean anyone else doesn’t.”

“I don’t value personalities?” Turning in her seat to stare at Harry head on, Y/N raises an eyebrow in question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just your taste in men, that’s all.” Harry says it casually, like it really can just be a “that’s all” type of sentence.

Within a heart beat, the comfortable atmosphere in the car turns to ice as Y/N straightens in her seat, her spine tense, tightening every nerve in her body along with it. “What the fuck does that mean?”

When Harry glances at her again, his eyes darken, his guard going up as he senses the shift in Y/N’s tone. “Nothing, just…motel rooms have thin walls.” Harry mumbles, having the decency to keep his eyes on the road as his ears redden slightly. “And from what I overheard, Brant doesn’t exactly seem…stimulating.”

Y/N sputters indignantly for a moment, unable to form a coherent response as anger rises in her chest. “You—” She sucks in a quick breath that hits the back of her throat harshly. “You eavesdropped on me?”

Harry licks his lips once, clearing his throat once before answering.  The tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel has resumed, his nervousness apparent in his movements as well as his facial expressions. “Not on purpose.  I told you, the walls were thin.”

“So put in head phones!” Y/N exclaims, gripping her water bottle so tight that her fingers begin to strain in protest against the metal exterior.  She has half a mind to throw the bottle at Harry in her anger, barely able to talk herself down from the ledge of the idea.

Harry’s posture shifts in his seat as his shoulders square, and Y/N can practically see his defensive side emerge from within his chest. “It’s not like you two were having phone sex.” He rolls his eyes at the idea. “It was the most boring conversation in the world, and lasted, what, three minutes?  Makes you wonder how long he lasts in other ways, doesn’t it?”

“Stop the car.” Y/N’s voice is low and void of emotion as she replies, her body turned back forward in her seat.

“Am I wrong?  It’s not like you know for sure—”

Anger bubbles over in Y/N’s chest, cancelling out any rational thought she has inside her and leaving pure, unadulterated fury. “Stop the car, Harry!  Now!”

Harry half jumps in his seat when Y/N yells, and he quickly jerks the car to the side of the highway without so much as a turn signal.  Pulling her seatbelt off as he pulls over, Y/N is out the door before Harry can so much as put the car into neutral.  While her more rational mind would tell her that she has nowhere to walk to along a highway in Colorado as the sky darkens to an angry black above them, the only thing she’s thinking of is getting away from Harry.  Stupid, self-absorbed, ignorant, and rude Harry.

“Y/N—” The sound of Harry scrambling out of the car and slamming the door behind him pushes her to walk faster. “Y/N, come back—”

Y/N turns around on her heel fast and hard, heart pounding so fast that she thinks it might break through her ribs. “What is your problem?” She hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Why do you insist on being so—so nasty about him?  You don’t even know him!”

Harry freezes where he is as the wind whips his hair around his face, his bandana barely keeping the messy curls in place. “I don’t—” His speech falters, and he sucks in a sharp breath before continuing. “I don’t think I’m being…nasty.”

“Well, you are!” Y/N takes a deep breath in, placing her hands over her stomach as it expands with air.  It’s a trick that Jo taught her back in high school, as a way to ground herself to her body. Feeling the movement of air in and out of her lungs helps calm her, even if by just a fraction. “Brant is just—he’s someone I’m talking to.  We’ve gone on dates, but we’re not dating, and even though we’re not dating, that doesn’t mean that you can insinuate things about him, or eavesdrop on our private conversations!”

Harry’s jaw tenses as he listens to Y/N speak, waiting until she’s finished her speech to respond in a harsh and clipped tone. “I already told you, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. And I’m teasing you.  It’s supposed to be a joke.  Isn’t that what friends do?”

“But we’re not friends, Harry.” Y/N’s voice is flat, the fury in her tone replaced with a hollow emptiness. “We’re not friends.  I don’t need you teasing me about a boy like we’re buddies, or whatever, because we’re not.”

Although Harry opens his mouth to respond, no words cross over the edges of his pink lips.  His jaw tightens even more as he closes his mouth again, and Y/N can see a million things flitting through his green irises, which are getting darker by the moment.  Y/N’s not certain if the darkness is from her words, or the black sky rolling above them that’s sapping the light of day from the atmosphere, and she’s not sure if she can take the answer either way.  Part of her knows that maybe—just maybe—she’s blown this whole thing out of proportion, and maybe she should examine why Harry making fun of Brant bothers her like it does.  It’s not like she’s unaware of his shortcomings, she thinks, but then she wonders why she’s now seeing them as shortcomings, when a week ago, she saw them as positives.  Y/N never has to worry about Brant being too much for her, or forgetful, or scatterbrained—he’s organized, and secure, and stable, and that’s what she likes.  It’s always been what she likes.

Harry’s delayed response tears Y/N from her thoughts. “Not friends.  Got it.” He mutters, rubbing his hand over his stubbled and taut cheeks. “Just get back in the car, then.  Let’s go.”

…

“Hello!  My name is Gracie, I’ll be your server today.” The waitress in the tiny diner smiles at Harry and Y/N, a notepad in one hand and a half filled coffee pot in the other. “Can I get you guys anything to start?”

“Coffee.” Harry and Y/N speak at the same time, each person’s eyes flickering to the other before looking away.  Y/N keeps her eyes focused on her off-white ceramic coffee cup as Gracie fills it, refusing to make eye contact with Harry again.

The last hour has been almost unbearable.  After they got back in the car, Harry had turned off his playlist, and for the first time since the road trip had begun, true silence had fallen between them. Y/N had thought she would like it, but truthfully, it had been the worst thing she’d ever heard.  Every few minutes, she’d hear Harry shift, or sigh, or tap a tense finger against the gear shift, and she wished that she could say something, but she didn’t.  She couldn’t.  She’d been grateful when he wordlessly exited the highway and parked in front of a diner, as the conversations of stopped truck drivers and the clatter of a kitchen was a good distraction from their argument.

A movement in the corner of her eye catches her attention, and Y/N glances up just enough to watch Harry slip a pat of butter into his coffee, stirring the contents of the cup with his spoon until it’s melted together.  She wrinkles her nose in disgust, and almost opens her mouth to make a comment (“Really, Harry?  Just add milk like a regular person, instead of drinking a cup of grease.”), but bites it back before it can fall off her tongue.  They’re not exactly in the position to make quips to each other, she thinks, especially after she told him that they weren’t friends.

Which they’re not. They’ve never been friends; that fact isn’t exactly news.  Not getting along has been Harry and Y/N’s signature since the day they first met. So why is there a pit in Y/N’s stomach that gets deeper every time Harry looks away from her?

The click of heels alerts Y/N of Gracie’s returned presence before her voice does. “Have you two decided what you’d like to eat?”

“I’ll have a turkey club, please, on whole wheat bread.” Harry folds up his plastic menu carefully. “And a glass of water on the side.”

Gracie nods, taking the menu from him before turning her eyes to Y/N. “And for yourself?”

“Um—” Y/N had barely glanced at the menu, too lost in her thoughts to think about it. “I’ll just have a burger, please.  And a water, as well.”

Gracie nods as she writes down the order, taking Y/N’s menu and giving the pair one last smile before disappearing to the kitchen.  A fresh wave of silence falls between Harry and Y/N as each of them sips their coffee, both of them doing their best not to look at the person sitting across from them.

Y/N’s best, however, is not up to her usual standard, as she can’t stop herself from stealing a few quick glances while Harry looks out the window.  He hasn’t shaved in a couple days, she notices, as the stubble on his cheeks and chin is even darker than it was the day before.  There’s a permanent crease between his eyebrows, his face as tense as she’s ever seen it, and a darkness over his whole expression overall. It’s like there’s a new wall up between the two of them, and Y/N’s never felt more detached from him.  Which, honestly, is saying something.

She’s looking back down at her own half empty coffee when Harry finally speaks a few minutes later, his voice just as tense as his expression.

“Shit.” He says in a low voice, and then the next sound Y/N hears is that of someone ruffling through pockets.  

She looks up to see Harry doing just that, his hands digging through the outer pockets of his army green jacket. “What?” She asks, her curiosity outweighing her need to continue the silent treatment. “What is it?”

“I had the vows in my—my pocket, but they’re—” Harry jams his hands inside a pocket sewn into the lining of his jacket, and Y/N watches as his face visibly relaxes. “Oh, thank God. I thought they fell out.”

Harry removes his hand from his pocket, two folded up notes clutched within his hand.  Each one is labeled carefully, one with Jo written in Laure’s neat penmanship, and the other with Laure scribbled in Jo’s quick writing.  

Y/N recognizes the papers immediately.  It’s easy, really, considering the amount of time she spent helping Jo rewrite draft after draft of the same sentiments. “You have Jo and Laure’s vows?” She questions, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “Why?”

“The same reason you have their wedding bands.” Harry shrugs as he turns the papers over in his careful fingers, making sure not to crease them. “They forgot them.”

A small smile plays on the edge of Y/N’s lips at the memory of her forgetful friends. “Right.  Of course.”

Harry’s eyes flicker to Y/N’s mouth at the sign of movement, and he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth before responding. “Want to take a look?”

“At their vows?” Y/N looks around, as if someone could be watching and monitoring them. “I—that doesn’t seem right.”

“Fine.  Then don’t look at them.” Harry says easily, setting the note labeled Laure on the table between them.  His nimble fingers unfold the paper labeled with Jo’s name as his green irises begin to scan across the sheet. “I’ll read them.”

It only takes a few seconds of watching Harry read over the words for Y/N to crack. “Wait.” She brings her thumb to her mouth, chewing anxiously on her cuticle as Harry quirks an eyebrow at her. “Will you read them to me?”

When she asks, Harry spends so long staring at her that Y/N thinks he’ll refuse.  His jade eyes meet hers with an intensity that almost makes her flinch, but Y/N holds his stare, refusing to be the first to back down. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Harry gives a sharp nod, looking down at the note before he starts to read from the beginning.

“‘My darling Jo’,” He begins, his voice soft and low, his accent thick. “‘It seems so strange that this day is finally here.  I feel like we’ve been building up to it ever since the day we first met, and yet it’s always seemed so far away.  When I was a little girl, I always’…” Harry trails off as his eyes continue to move across the words, and he clears his throat before attempting to continue to read aloud. “‘I always thought that there was something wrong with me.  I thought that the things that I felt, and the way that I loved, was dirty.  I thought it was wrong.  I thought that—that I was going against God, and against nature, and that I was going to be punished for it.  And then I met you’.”

Harry pauses to take a sip of his coffee, and Y/N does the same.  There’s a shine beginning to appear in his eyes, and Y/N recognizes it as the beginning of tears because she feels the same thing brimming in her own eyes. She feels a bit guilty for reading the vows, but reasons that it’s for the best.  If she were to hear them for the first time at the wedding, she doesn’t think she’d be able to keep it together.

“‘The moment I met you, I knew that the way I loved could never be wrong, or be dirty, because I was loving you’.” Harry’s accent grows thicker the more he reads, and although Y/N hasn’t seem Harry in many different emotional states, she can tell that this is a sign of how the vows are affecting him. “‘Being with you could never be wrong, and God could never get mad at me for it, because only God could create someone as perfect as you.  I promise to love you when you wake me up at 3 A.M. because you’ve stolen all the blankets, and I promise to love you at 6 P.M. when you almost burn down our apartment while trying to cook for me.  I promise to support you through everything, listen to your stories, and watch in wonder as you make a difference in this world.  I promise to never let my anger get the best of me, and to always give you the benefit of the doubt.  I promise to love every version of yourself that you grow into, just as I’ve loved all the versions you once were.  I promise to love you in every way humanly possible, and even in ways that aren’t humanly possible.  I promise to love, period.  I’—” Harry’s voice cracks, and he glances up at Y/N as he clears his throat to continue. “‘I love you’.”

Y/N doesn’t realize just how emotional listening to Harry read Laure’s vows has made her until the first tear wells over the corner of her eye.  She turns her head towards the window to wipe it away as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, but from the way Harry is looking at her when she turns back around, she knows that he caught what she was doing.

“That, um—” Now it’s Y/N’s turn to attempt to clear the emotion from her throat. “Wow.”

Harry carefully folds Laure’s vows back up, taking extra care to re-crease the paper exactly how it had been folded. “I didn’t know she…felt like that.” Harry says after a moment, his voice quiet. “Like she was…wrong.”

Y/N, unsure of what to say, just nods while reaching for Jo’s vows in front of her.  Like Harry, she takes great care when unfolding the paper, smoothing it gently between her hands. “I’ll read Jo’s, then?”

Harry nods as he takes a sip of his water. “Sure.”

Y/N licks her lips once, wetting them with what little saliva she has in her mouth before beginning. “‘Laure’,” She starts, emotion already rising up to form a lump in her throat. “‘I don’t even know where to begin.  I’ve tried to write down all the ways I love you a million different times, but I can never seem to find the right words.  The problem is, I don’t think that there is a big enough word to describe what I feel for you.  ‘Love’ is only four letters, and four letters is just not enough to contain everything I feel.  ‘Adoration’ is nine letters, but even that doesn’t come close.  I think the best way I can describe it is ‘permanent’.” Y/N pauses her reading to take a long gulp of water, the coolness soothing the dry and parched feeling in her mouth and throat. “‘Anyone who knows me knows that I have trouble committing.  The idea of having something forever, of being in one place, normally terrifies me. But the idea of having you forever, and being in one place with you forever…that’s all I want.  I want us to be permanent to each other.  Even when we struggle, and we will struggle, I know that we won’t fall apart.  Committing to you isn’t any trouble.  It’s as easy as breathing.  I’m sure of you, and I’m sure of us.  I love you, permanently.  I’ll love you when you’re sick and gross, and I’ll love you when you’re old with a bad hip.” A small laugh falls out of Y/N’s mouth before she continues. “I’ll love you when you haggle at flea markets for the best prices, and I’ll love you when you do something so stupid that it makes me want to tear my hair out.  I love you permanently, and I want all of our family and friends to witness me saying that.  I’ll never back out, or bail, or run away from you.  You’re the one thing in my life that’s never felt hard. You’re my home base, and my north star, and you bring me back down to Earth whenever I need it.  I love you permanently, Laure.  I’ll never stop’.”

As she finishes reading, Y/N folds the paper back up, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand before grabbing the other note sitting on the table.  She pushes them towards Harry, her misty eyes unable to meet his. “Here. Put these away again, somewhere safe.”

Harry takes the vows from her, slipping them back inside his inner jacket pocket for safekeeping. “It’s probably—” He clears his throat once more, and Y/N knows that the vows have caught him in his chest just as they’ve caught her. “It’s probably good that we read them now, so that we’re…prepared for the ceremony.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wraps her hands around her coffee mug, the warm ceramic surface heating her cold fingers. “You’re right.  They really…love each other.”

Harry taps his fingers against the table top, a concentrative and thoughtful expression on his face.  His eyebrows are knit together above his stormy green eyes, and his pink tongue swipes over his pinker lips once before he speaks. “You know, Laure is my closest friend.  I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Immediately registering the tone of Harry’s voice, Y/N’s head snaps up, her own eyes becoming stormy as they meet his own. “Jo would never hurt Laure.” Y/N says defensively, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking up at even the suggestion of her friend hurting someone. “Didn’t you hear her vows?  I’ve never heard her sound so sure of something in her entire life.”

Harry’s jaw flexes at the cadence of Y/N’s voice, and his is just as agitated when he responds. “I’m just saying, if anything ever happened—”

“And I’m just saying, it won’t.” The tension between them doubles as Y/N shoots Harry an icy glare. “Do you just look for the worst in people?  Is that all you do?”

“You think I look for the worst in people?  Really?” Harry barks out a harsh laugh, pressing one hand flat against the table as the other fixes his bandana. “Christ, if that’s what you think of me—”

“Why would I think anything else?” Y/N asks incredulously, tilting her head to the side as she regards him. “All you’ve shown me is—”

“Alright, I have the turkey club on whole wheat, and the burger here.” Gracie appears suddenly to Y/N’s right, her tray loaded with food. “Here you guys are…” She sets the plates down in front of Harry and Y/N, her gaze darting between them nervously as she reads the tension in the booth. “Is…there anything else I can get you two?”

“No.” Harry’s voice is hard. “We don’t need anything else.”

…

By the time Harry pulls the car into a motel just off the highway in Lexington, Nebraska, all Y/N wants is a moment alone.  The strained atmosphere during that day’s drive had been unbearable, and between the anxiety from her confrontation with Harry and the sound of thunder beginning in the distance, Y/N just needs some space to herself to relax and calm down.

Of course, just because that’s what she needs, doesn’t mean that she’s going to get it.  When Harry returns back to the car with a single key in his hand and a sour look on his face, Y/N knows for sure that the universe is against her.

This room, at least, she’s pleased to find, has two actual beds, which are pushed up against the wall perpendicular to the door with a small night table between them.  However, that’s where her pleasure stops, as the click of Harry turning the lock behind her just reminds her that she’s trapped in here, with no chance to get away from Harry, the oncoming storm, or any one of her problems that have developed over the last four days.  The reality of the situation hits her all at once, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control to toss her bag on the bed and walk brusquely to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her before she allows herself to show a sign of her emotions.

The rest of the evening passes in silence.  She showers before changing into her sports bra and boxers, but the amount of exposed skin sends a vulnerable shiver down her spine.  Y/N opts for pulling a sweatshirt over her body, and then sets herself the task of braiding her hair to distract herself.  After that’s done, she busies herself with her skincare routine, taking up as much time as she can in the bathroom before she absolutely has to leave its private interior.

Harry, however, seems to want to see as little of Y/N as she wants to see of him, and pushes past her to enter the bathroom the moment that she steps out of it.  His routine, it seems, is designed to take up just as much time as hers was, because by the time Harry exits the bathroom, the scent of his shampoo trailing behind him, Y/N is already tucked under the covers of her bed, although she’s far from asleep.

In the time it took for her to shower and get ready for bed, the storm had picked up, and the only thing audible in the room was the sound of rain pelting against the roof and window, the wind howling through the trees, and Y/N’s shallow, uneven breaths. She wraps the sheets tightly around herself, pulling them taut to her chin with clenched fists that tighten every time a clap of thunder echoes through the room.  Although she’s turned to face the wall, away from Harry, she can hear his footsteps pause as he gets a glimpse of her shivering form beneath the blankets, and she does her best to will herself to appear asleep.  Breathing in as deeply as her tight chest will allow her, Y/N attempts to even her breathing, forcing her shoulders rise and fall in a way that appears natural and normal.  But all it takes is one clap of thunder for the controlled motion to go out the window.

“Y/N…” Harry’s voice is low, but despite its raspy cadence, it lacks the rough edge that it had earlier. The bed behind her squeaks, signalling that Harry’s taken a seat on the edge of it. “Are you—?”

“I-I’m fine.” Y/N says quickly, pulling the sheets tighter to her chin as another shiver rolls through her body. “Go to sleep.”

There’s another creak of Harry’s bed, and Y/N imagines him climbing under the starched linen covers, his damp curls flopping into his eyes as he lays back on the lumpy motel pillow. The image is almost enough to distract her until there’s another clap of thunder.  The sound seems to shake the motel room, and Y/N can’t stop the small whimper that leaves her lips as her body jumps in response.

“When I was a little kid, my mum took my sister and I to the fair every year.”

Harry’s deep voice cuts over the rain, and Y/N shifts in her bed, turning over to face him.  She keeps the covers pulled up to her chin, but readjusts herself so that she can keep her head on her pillow while looking Harry in the eye. “What?” She asks, confusion audible in her quiet tone.

Harry shifts himself as she does, continuing to move down until he’s completely horizontal, with one hand tucked under his pillow as he speaks. “My mum took my sister and I to the fair.  It came to Holmes Chapel every spring, and there were always rides, and games to play, and so many things to see.  It drew crowds from nearby villages every year, really big crowds, and my mum always held my hand tightly so I wouldn’t get lost.”

“I don’t understand, what—” Another clap of thunder shakes the room, making Y/N flinch halfway through her sentence.

“You’re okay.” Harry says immediately, his calm jade eyes focused on her as the reassurance slips from his mouth.  He waits a moment, gauging Y/N’s body language and waiting for his examination to be positive before resuming his story. “So…my mum always told me not to wander off, but when I was six, I did.  I saw some older kids playing games that I wanted to play, and Gemma was busy playing some sort of game with a ball—I can’t really remember what—and when my mum turned her back, I ran off.”

Y/N’s about to open her mouth to ask why he’s telling her the story when the answer clicks into place in her head.  She thinks back to the conversation in the car the day before, how she told Harry that it helps when someone talks to her to distract her from the thunder.  That’s what he’s doing, she realizes, as she forces herself to focus on his quiet and level voice.  He’s trying to keep her calm, even after everything she said and did today.

“I don’t look like it now,” A small smile flits across Harry’s blushed lips. “But I was pretty scrawny back then.  And all the people around me were so tall, my eyes were barely level with their hips. Everyone was rushing around, going in all directions, and I kept calling for my mum, but she couldn’t hear me.  No one stopped to help me.  I felt like I was…trapped.  Like it was a huge forest of legs, running all around me, circling me, and I couldn’t get out.  I was probably only gone for five minutes, but to a six year old, it felt like an eternity.  And just something about it…I don’t know.  It changed me.  I still don’t like crowds because of that day.”

Y/N’s shoulders unclench the slightest bit as another gust of wind blows against the window. “That must have been scary.”

Harry’s own shoulders lift in a slight shrug as he shifts the sheet to cover him more. “It was. But I can’t change it.  I just have to deal with the repercussions of it. That’s all a fear is, really.  A side effect.  We just have to deal with them as best we can.”

More thunder booms loudly outside, but Y/N manages to keep her flinch to a minimum, despite her hands curling into fists again under the covers. “Harry…” She whispers his name into the darkness between them, his outline barely visible save for his green eyes. “I’m—I’m sorry about today.”

Harry shakes his head, his damp hair rubbing against his pillow. “You don’t have to apologize.” He whispers back, his tone as gentle as she’s ever heard it. “I was an arse.  I shouldn’t have pushed the topic.”

“I shouldn’t have been so uptight about it.” Rubbing her eyes with one fist, Y/N lets out a low sigh. “I felt so shitty all day because of our fight.  I’ve never…none of our fights have ever made me feel like that.”

“Maybe it’s because…” Harry’s tentative voice trails off, his eyes flickering to the ground for a brief moment before staring back at Y/N nervously. “I don’t know.  I thought we were getting along better.  For a moment, at least.”

“We were.” Y/N’s teeth tug on her bottom lip, and she feels a sudden shyness overcome her at the admission. “I’m sorry I said that we…weren’t friends.  I think…I don’t know.  I’ve been stubborn for so long, but I can see now that you’re different than I thought you were.”

“Yeah.  Me too.  I was wrong, too.” Harry runs a hand through his damp curls, a soft laugh leaving his mouth. “How did we even end up like this?  I barely remember what made us hate each other so much in the beginning.”

“Seriously?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, barely peaking out from beneath the sheets as another clap of thunder sounds. “You don’t remember?”

Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”

“Yes!  It was the very first night we met.  We had that double date with Laure and Jo.” Shifting beneath her covers, Y/N moves herself into a better position on her side, so she can be more comfortable while still maintaining eye contact with Harry. “And you were rude, and made inappropriate jokes, and you left in the middle of the date to go chat up a sorority girl!”

“Wait a minute, no!” Harry protests the memory, half sitting up in his bed as he speaks. “That’s not what happened!”

“Yes, it is!” A small laugh falls off Y/N’s lips at his indignant reaction. “I remember it perfectly!”

“No, you remember it wrong!” Although a flush creeps up Harry’s neck, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips, a tiny hint of a dimple just barely appearing in his visible cheek. “I was making jokes to try and break the ice, which didn’t work on the Ice Queen, it seems—” Harry motions to Y/N teasingly. “And you’re the one who started talking to some bloke before I started talking to that girl!”

Another clap of thunder echoes through the room, but Y/N hardly notices as she thinks back to the night they met, and who Harry could possibly be referring to. “A bloke—?  He was a classmate of mine!  I had to talk to him!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to enjoy it so much.” Harry grumbles, crossing his muscled arms over his sheets. “I had been so excited when Laure said she had an American girl for me, and then—”

“You were excited?” Y/N asks, her voice laced with surprise. “Really?”

The flush on Harry’s neck works its way to the apples of his cheeks. “Well, yeah.” He mumbles the words as his eyes drop from Y/N’s, slipping both hands beneath his head. “She said that you were funny, intelligent, witty, beautiful—”

“And then you met me, and realized that it was all a lie?” Y/N finishes for him, rolling her eyes in the darkness.

“No.” Harry gives a small shake of his head as his body shifts, the motel bed creaking under his weight. “No, she wasn’t wrong.  You were all of those things.  But I wasn’t, and it seemed like…I don’t know.  Like you didn’t think I was good enough for you.  I couldn’t keep your attention.”

The teasing smile slips from Y/N’s face as she registers Harry’s words. “You thought that I thought you weren’t…good enough?”

The nervousness is clear in Harry’s voice now, even over the pounding of rain against the window. “That’s what it seemed like, yeah.”

“I never—I didn’t think that.” Y/N says slowly, managing to relax her body beneath the sheets as she keeps her focus on the memory of meeting Harry. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be there, but that’s because Jo set the date up without telling me.  I thought you were handsome, and I liked your accent, but then you started to act weird, and you started flirting with that girl, so I thought you were an ass.”

“You still think I’m an arse, princess, be honest.” The teasing tone replaces the nerves, and for once, Harry’s joke has the intended affect on Y/N.  When she rolls her eyes again, it’s more playful, and the same tone is in her voice when she responds.

“I told you, don’t call me princess.” She replies, running her teeth over her lip gently. “So…I guess we both kind of fucked up that day.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods, a sheepish smile playing over his red lips. “I guess so.”

“Can we just restart?” Y/N’s voice is small when she asks the question, barely audible over the sounds of the storm raging outside. “Like, all the way from the beginning. No more grudges, no more yelling. Even if it’s just for this trip, for Jo and Laure—”

“It doesn’t have to be just for this trip.” Harry cuts in, his eyes catching Y/N’s again. “We’re going to have to be around each other for a long time.  It’ll be a lot easer if we get along.”

Y/N nods in agreement, tugging down her covers to extend one arm towards Harry.  She makes a fist, holding out just her pinkie finger to him with half a grin on her face. “Truce?”

The space between their beds is small, and Harry’s long arm easily makes it across the no man’s land to meet Y/N’s pinkie with his own.  He loops it together with a smile that matches hers, tired and content and just at the edge of a humble new beginning.  Harry’s response is almost inaudible as thunder booms loudly outside the room, but Y/N can still pick out the cadence of his accent under the noise.

“Truce.”

(pt II)

[scolopendress-tag]

I said I'd make a post detailing my kid Asra working for Lucio theory in this post so here it is! 

So Let's get STARDED.

So! To start off, how it began. We do know when Asra and Muriel were kids, Lucio came to them each seperately with a deal.

Essentially: work for me, or I'll hurt your friend.

This was the sentiment he repeated for both of them. So, not wanting the other to be harmed, they both agree - unaware of the other's deal.

For Muriel, it was playing heel/excecutioner at the coleseium. For Asra, it was doing... Well, we never know, aside from he worked under Lucio. But that's what we are here to discuss in any case.

Continued under the read more, for the sake of people's dashes.

Now presumably, if I got my timeline right, Asra at this time would've been around 12 or 13. We don't know much about how Asra was when he was younger, other than that he has certainly changed.

It's also worth noting that it's not amiss to say they were both also still homeless at the time, and the hut hadn't come into the play until after.

Asra was still living on the streets.

This all isn't overly important for any of my claims later, but perhaps someone else could make something of it. It does provide us with some framing for the situation as a whole, though.

Now onto Asra's time under Lucio. I don't know that we have any indication of how long it was, but presumably at least a year if not more.

We do also know that Lucio knew who Asra was. Both in that he knew Aisha and Salim had a kid, and that he knew Asra was said kid.

This is bring this up because we know Aisha and Salim were incredibly talented, and likely incredibly powerful. Lucio wouldn't settle for any run of the mill magician or alchemist for the work he needed. So he must've had some idea that Asra may take after that power as well.

To top it off, he also interacted and talked with the dock kids he also used, (two of which would actually later become palace guards,) and seeing as this is seemingly how he learned of Muriel, it's not off to think that this is also how he heard of Asra again to start. The kids knew of Asra's magic, and roughly where he was, and could've even continued talking about both Muriel and Asra to Lucio for unknown amounts of time.

So now Lucio knows that the kid of his two powerful practitioners of magic is not only still around, but taking after them as well.

If Muriel's intimidating size and physical power are what drew Lucio to him, why wouldn't Asra's considerable metaphysical power and talents draw Lucio in as well?

We know how much Lucio loves power, and that he has an interest in magic because of it, as mentioned in the main story. (no ss sorry... If you have one send so I can add. )

Plus, homeless kid in a vulnerable spot. Easy pickings.

That's what I think this whole thing was about, really. It's all power. Though Asra likely didn't have the full scope of power he does in the current game, he was probably still considerably talented, and was only getting better.

What Lucio specifically probably wanted from Asra then was either to be taught how to use that power, to use Asra for things that required it, and/or use his power for entertainment akin to how he used Muriel.

I think out of these however, using him for his power was most likely. Why? (And teaching him now, more on that further down)

(Sorry for bad quality lmao it's a small image. Also thanks to @8-bit-space for showing these to me like months ago. As you can see I can't stop thinking abt it)

These are screenshots from the old prologue. While they're not canon any more, there's reason to believe they still hold merit as to how Lucio feels about Asra.

Two things to me are major here. First is the "powerful potent magic," and how it's the "real deal," equating to a large part of how he views Asra yet again tying back to a heavy interest in his power. Now, you could argue this relates to using his powers in the palace during the plague, but the second point stands out even more to me.

"The one who broke him for me?"

What this implies to me is that Lucio could never quite get all the way through to Asra or control him when he was younger, and he's been dying to do so. He wanted Asra broken, presumably so that he'll become essentially a tool for him to use for his skill and not put up a fight- something Asra likely did as a child.

Because it seems that Lucio for the most part relied on control through fear when it came to Asra, threatening to hurt Muriel, lying to him about how he executed his parents, likely other things as well. But things seem to point to that never quite working like he had hoped.

This could allude to this as well. Though "impossible" is something Asra's been called a few times, namely also by Julian, there's no reason to assume Lucio wasn't also including his work with him as a kid in "always". Impossible to hate could be his draw to Asra for his power, his talent, his skills, the prospect of which I'm sure Lucio found practically mouthwatering. Impossible to love could be his stubbornness or reluctance to do what Lucio wants, always pushing against him or being hard to deal with, both as a kid and during the plague.

And lines like this, where he calls him a coward. I find it hard to relate this to the plague ritual as he was for the most part willingly helping with that, so it could be resenment for when Asra eventually ran off as a kid, unwilling to put up with him any longer, or his reluctance to do certain things for him then in general.

We know, and it has even been mentioned by a character within the canon, that Asra can be incredibly stubborn, to back that up. Plus, he could've been even harder to work with then both being a kid and as I mentioned earlier he has changed from how he was then, so he could've had more spunk to him or such.

This also easily means that what Lucio was trying to get Asra to do then was something Asra was quite obviously opposed to. Being used for his power is already degrading enough, but there could be more to it.

You'll notice in the post that was linked at the top (the reason I'm writing this) I mentioned pushing Asra to his physical limits and magical extremes. This could be one of the reasons for a push back.

If Lucio was having Asra do things for him involving magic, it's not out of pocket to assume he'd practically run him into the ground- I'm sure he really wouldve loved testing the limits of what Asra could REALLY do.

Wether it be huge expendure of power all at once, or tons of smaller things one after the other, it would absolutely take it's toll. We are shown a few times that using magic can exhaust someone, and I don't remember if this is shown in canon ever (tell me if so!) but pushing it even further could definitely lead to other things such as passing out, (Or nosebleeds, for the aesthetic,) alongside likely being incredibly painful and draining, both mentally and physically.

Basically, abusing his powers and the body that commanded them. It's also possible that the stubborness to work with Lucio could also be partially percieved because of this- Lucio taking Asra's literal physical inability to continue as defiance.

Another reason for push back from Asra would be making him do morally compromising things. This is a little more vague, but intimidation is a common headcanon I see for what Lucio made Asra do, and that could tie in here. Other things could be meddling in things and business he shouldn't, but again, it's a vague thing. Make of it what you will. Fucked up stuff all around.

[EDIT - TEACHING LUCIO]

(THANK YOU @tea-tye for showing me these, and credits to @hangedman-magician for the video they came from!!!!!!!)

...I cannot BELIEVE I forgot this, I KNEW I was missing something. Especially when I was fairly certain I remember Lucio being obsessed with the idea of magic. SO, MOVING ON,

There's not terribly much to pick apart here as it's rather direct- Asra saying he has in fact tried to teach Lucio magic. So in my eyes this solidifies that this was a component of Asra's time under Lucio. I still think my points about Lucio treatment (pushing Asra to his limits) stand, as well.

This can also tie in the stubborness mentioned as, well, can you imagine teaching Lucio? Asra backs this up by saying nothing he has ever said stuck with Lucio, and you know how Lucio gets when things don't go his way. He would've blamed his inability to learn on Asra, likely.

Looking to other quotes mentioned: the 'broke him' line still rings to me like he was trying to use Asra in other ways, and the 'coward' line could go either way from refusing to teach Lucio certain things, or refusing to do certain things for Lucio when he was merely being used. The "impossible" line could also go for others, as trying to teach someone like Lucio would've undoubtedly caused some head butting.

This is certainly really exciting and interesting to me as it gives a more complete picture on the exact situation at hand here. I still stay by my reasoning for Lucio simply using Asra as well on top of being taught because it seems highly likely that Lucio would've been too impatient to learn to do certain things himself, and like I said as well, I don't doubt he also just wanted to see what Asra was REALLY capable of. Something he could've saw as a tantalizing insight into the kind of power he could aquire of this kid would just... work with him.

NOW we have a MUCH clearer answer as to what exactly Asra was likely doing under Lucio, or at this point, almost certainly doing. It's a sad picture for Asra of course, but with this you can draw some interesting points as to how he could've been affected by this, as I'm sure it would've left some kind of imprint on him.

Sure it may not have been as traumatic as what Muriel went through, but when you look at it, it's hard to say it DIDN'T leave it's scars. If we consider all the points presented in this post truth we have:

A 12/13 yo homeless child, threatened with his friend's life to work for the Count that he knew was the one responsible for orphaning him and making him homeless in the first place.

Said child believing his parents are still alive, and as we see in Travel at Night, could very likely still be trying to find them. In a situation like Asra's that glimmer of hope probably was a big deal in helping him push on. This may also be a reason he agreed on top of Muriel's safety.

While working under the count, he is told that his parents were executed, no doubt devastating. The manner in which this was mentioned is up for debate, and could affect exactly how it was taken. Options could be Lucio joking or bragging about it (treating it as trivial or an accomplishment), or using it to threaten Asra, (as in I killed your parents, I'll kill you too,) both would work when it comes to controlling by fear.

It is also mentioned that Lucio told him the reason for his parents execution is that they messed up his gold arm, so Asra also has the knowledge that his parents were killed over something so unbelievably trivial.

Being used as a source of power and nothing else, both for teaching and pure work/entertainment, all for the man who killed his parents, day after day.

Being pushed to physically painful and mentally draining limits, expending so much energy that he completely exhausts himself, day after day.

Likely taking all sorts of verbal abuse from Lucio, day after day.

Like mentioned earlier, it seems clear that Lucio wanted to break Asra, so some other form of trying to chip away at his psyche to make him more convenient for Lucio is likely as well.

Those points alone, to yet again a CHILD no less, seem more than enough to cause some traumatic impact, and depending on certain specifics of what exactly went on during that time, it could be worse. I may make a post looking into the long lasting effects of this on Asra, I may not. It would mostly be headcanon regardless. If you want to add your hc relating to this situation though, I'll gladly reblog it!

And now that we are closing out, it's time to revise my summary. So, without further ado, THIS is what I think was going on during this time.

Lucio knows of Asras existence and parentage.

Lucio learns Asra is around and that he's got power.

Lucio LOVES power, so he threatens Asra into working for him.

Lucio uses Asra for his power and to be taught how to use it for himself.

While using Asra for his knowledge and power, runs him into the ground by pushing his limits to physical and magical degrees, possibly even moral.

Asra pushes back against a lot of this, or is at least percieved to, frustrating Lucio.

Lucio does what he can to try and control Asra even more, primarily via fear, but can't seem to crack him.

Eventually it's too much, and Asra leaves. Likely when the plague hit like Muriel, but it's possible it could've been somewhat sooner. Lucio is PISSED, because he wanted that magical power all to himself.

Less related, I can see Lucio trying to brush it off and pretending to be fine with it, excuse being "he was too difficult to work with, anyways," or something.

...And then... years later, as far as Lucio sees it, Asra comes crawling back- and he's tamed down to a degree! He's actually working with him. Lucio might not know what or who did it, but Asra is finally broke for him, and I'm sure he was absolutely ecstatic to have that power back in his hands- and more than ever before.

Think of all of this as you would like!

At the end this is all still speculative, so definitely feel free to make your own points or say if you feel any different abt anything- expansions or counters on this theory/headcanon welcome!

And if you also have any other screenshots or info not here that could add to the theory or change the outlook of certain things definitely add them!!! I feel like I'm missing stuff for sure, and my memory has probably muddled some things (hopefully I didn't get anything wrong, though.)

And @asrascherry thanks for the offer in helping word my hcs also! I forgot to say that. This one is just so long I wouldve felt bad bringing it all to you 😔 it's probably still messy as a result but I tried lmao (worried it's repetitive or unclear 😬)

Uh yeah! That's mostly it for NOW.

+All the love to Asra for going through so much I'm so sorry bb,,

Thanks for reading!

[elivanah-writes]

Gift of the gods

pairing: Paul Lahote x female!pagan!reader

Sum: what if the gods did granted readers wish? 

warnings: a smal bit of smut please skip that if you’re under 18!

masterlist

It was almost twilight when y/n arrived at la push beach with her small backpack, it had been years since the last time that she had been here but it still felt like coming home. She quickly kicked out her shoes so she could feel the earth beneath her bare feet as she walked to what used to be her secret spot. It was a place close to the shoreline that was kept hidden by some bushes and a few trees. If you’d be walking on the beach you’d never see it if someone was sitting there, and that was what she was looking for. She didn’t want people to see what she was about to do, this was something for herself, something she did every time she traveled.

Once she had reached the spot she drops down to her knees in the sand and starts to unpack the five candles and matches that were in the backpack. Colored ribbons decorated four of the candles, she picked up the one with the yellow ribbon and placed it in the east, the one with the red she placed in the south, blue in the west, and green in the north so the four candles formed a circle around her. As she took the matches in her hand she took the time to clear her mind as best as she could so her mind was only in that moment when she started to light each candle. By then the sun was set but it wasn’t completely dark yet, ‘the perfect time’ she thought to herself as she started to cast her protective circle.

“I call the Guardian of the east and the element of air to watch over this sacred circle”

“I call the Guardian of the south and the element of fire to watch over this sacred circle.”

“I call the Guardian of the west and the element of water to watch over this sacred circle.”

“I call the Guardian of the north and the element of earth to watch over this sacred circle.”

With every sentence she spoke she visualized a physical circle forming around her.

Unknown to her there were more than just the element guardians watching her. Hidden behind the treeline 2 wolves were watching the scene unfold curious about what was happening. “she looks familiar” Jared said through the mind link to Paul. “Nah, doesn’t seem familiar to me. Should we report this to Sam? We don’t know what she’s up to.” Paul responded. “I don’t see harm in the girl, but it might be a good idea to keep an eye on her as long as she’s on that beach.” 

So the two kept watching the girl in silence.

Y/n took a deep breath before lighting the last plain white candle and placed it in front of her and started to focus on opening her mind as she spoke.

“God and Goddess, grant me the power of water to accept with ease and grace what I cannot change. grant me the power of fire for the energy of courage to change the things I can. Grant me the power of air for the ability to know the difference, and grant me the power earth for the strength to continue my path.”

After a moment of meditation with her eyes closed, she could feel how her mind eased with the peace she needed. 

Suddenly a branch snapped behind her, making her eyes shot open. When she looked over her shoulder in the direction the sound came from she was stunned, two large wolves were looking straight at her. One was dark brown and as soon as the animal had noticed her looking back at them he stepped back disappearing behind the treeline. The other was dark silver like and stared deeply back at her without moving, it’s brown eyes looking so human that she started to doubt if what she was seeing was real. It got so intense that she had to look away at some point but the moment she looked back the wolf was gone. y/n shrugged and blew out the candle in front of her, it was time to go. She thanked the guardians and sent them back on their way before blowing out the rest of the candles and packed everything back into her backpack.

--------------- 18+ SMUT

“Oh baby, that’s it” his deep voice moaned, his warm soft hands guided the movement of her hips while she was on top of him. She could feel him pulsing inside of her, she could feel every vein that ran through his hard cock with every move of her hips. She had never felt this good, this complete and safe. His moans only added up to her arousal and made her in turn also moan out loud every time her clit made contact with his pubic bone. “Yes my love let me hear that beautiful voice of yours.” he practically growled before he lifted her off his lap and turned them so y/n was laying on her back with the brown eyed man on top of her looking at her lovingly. 

“I love you, y/n”

Next thing she knew he was thrusting back inside of her while he kissed her passionately.

Her lover held himself up with one hand next to her head while as other hand found it’s place on her clit, rubbing the little bundle of nerves in sync with the movements of his own hips.

Y/n was a moaning mess at the mercy of her lover that brought her closer and closer to the peak of pleasure. But just before she could fall over the edge and have the most earth-shattering orgasm she was sure she would have a voice called out to her.

---------- end smut

“Wake up sleepyhead! The sunlight is here to greet the day!”

Y/n’s eyes shot open while she groaned. It was just a dream, there was no hot brown eyed man that was making her feel good.

“What do you want Kim, it’s way too early” y/n groaned as she saw her usual shy friend standing in the door opening. Y/n wasn’t a morning person especially after a dream like that.

“Oh, you grumpy cat” Kim chuckled, “Come on, we need to leave soon or there won’t be much breakfast left at Emily’s. And the guys are dying to meet you.”

That’s right, she almost forgot. When a week ago Y/n arrived at her friends’ place Kim was so happy to see her that they had spent most of that time together, catching up on everything that had happened since the last time Y/n was here.

Y/n had spent most of her youth here in La Push, growing up as a foster kid in Kim’s family until another family adopted her at the age of 15. Kim had always been more like a sister to her so even after she had left with her adoptive family she had kept in touch with Kim and her parents.

Now after a week full of quality time and their favorite things done it was time to meet Kim’s boyfriend and his friends in real life. She had already heard a lot about Jared, even before the two got together. Kim was so in love with him that sometimes y/n had to butt in if she wanted to say something. But Y/n was happy that her friend had found someone that treated her right. 

“Okay give me a minute to get ready,” Y/n said as she literally rolled out of bed and got up.

Fifteen minutes later y/n was dressed and ready to go. Kim had said that Emily’s place wasn’t that far so they decided to walk the short distance.

“Y/n, I was wondering. So every time you travel or do something important you do that ritual to ask the gods for strength and balance right?” Kim suddenly started knowing about her pagan believes.

“Yeah, why?”

“What if the gods grant your wish? But what if they grant it in the form of a person, like a soulmate?”

Y/n didn’t expect that to be her question because it wasn’t something she had thought of before.

“I don’t know Kim, for me, it’s more something like inner strength. You know. It’s something I want to for myself but hey I’m never turning down a gift from the gods. Especially if that gift is in the form of a hot guy made just for me.” she laughed.

They could hear the laughs of multiple people coming from the little but beautiful house that stood in the middle of an open field surrounded by trees. But the moment the girls started to walk closer to the house the laughing stopped, the sliding door opened and before she knew it Kim was lifted off her feet and spun around in the arms of who she recognized as Kim’s boyfriend Jared.

“Hey, you must be Y/n, Kim has told us a lot about you.” Jared smiled at her once he had placed Kim back onto her own feet, but still kept his arm around her waist.

“Yeah I am, it’s nice to finally meet you. Kim hasn’t shut up about you.” she chuckled making Jared and Kim chuckle too.

“Well come on in, breakfast is served” a sweet voice called out from the small porch.

“Wellcome Y/n I’m Emily”

She thanked her for the invitation before following the small group inside where the kitchen table was already filled with food and a bunch of guys sitting around it.

“Hey, guy!” Kim greeted the guys around the table with a smile before pointing at me.

“This is my sister Y/n, Y/n meet Sam, Jacob, Embry, Quil, Leah, Seth.” Every time Kim said a name a hand shot up with a short “hey” or “hello”. They all seemed like the nice and fun people Kim described them as but wasn’t there supposed to be another guy? If she remembered correctly a guy named Paul was missing from the group but she didn’t press that thought, because soon she was lead to a chair at the table and almost everyone started to fill their plates with food. She had just started to fill her plate too when she heard a voice call out from another room in the house.

“Leave some food for me, you animals!” followed by a warm laugh and footsteps coming closer until a large form filled the door opening on her left. He had broad shoulders, short dark hair, and the most beautiful brown eyes she had ever seen. He hadn’t noticed her yet so she took the opportunity to really look at him, those eyes seemed familiar, he seemed familiar. She had seen him before. His whole being, even his voice made her heart jump in her chest. Then he turned his head and looked straight at her, it seemed like his eyes lighted up in that same recognition, his smile got wider than it already was. 

“Hey, you must be Y/n. I’m Paul.” He greeted her before he took a seat on the other side of the table right in front of her. 

Then she knew where she knew him from, Paul was the guy from in her dreams. She quickly averted her eyes, afraid he’d notice that she had been staring at him. She quickly looked around her to see if someone had noticed but everyone was having their own conversation, that was until her eyes met those of a smirking Kim. Of course, she had noticed, when Kim winked at her their conversation from earlier sprung in her mind. What if the gods did had granted her wish? Because she was almost sure she had even saw those same eyes a week ago when she was in the middle of her prayer. Could it be that Paul was her gift from the gods, her soulmate?

tags: 

@its-la-push​   @ghostmistwalker​ @bisexualcrazybeans​

[tooruluv]

Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 7 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,184

warnings/notes: um.. haha?

tag list: @afuckingunicornn​​​ @maii-flowers​​​ @clandestinerays​​​ @brownandchill​​​ @readeretal​​​ @wedojustbevibin​​​ @shigarakiskitten​​​ @shittykawaa​​​ @saeranoppa​​ @srirachibi​​ @tpwkatsumu​ @sempiternal-amour​ @bokutos-h0e​ @pinknugget​ @intheawks​

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“Oh.”

You couldn’t look at her. How could you? You felt her eyes stare into your head, but you focused all of your attention onto your hands as though they would help you escape the most awkward conversation you’ve ever had.

“You’re in love with Tooru.” Sana said, as a statement rather than question. You didn’t move, frozen. “Oh my god, and I’ve been a total bitch! I asked you on a double date… oh! Oh no, I totally just said he doesn’t like you back…”

“You’re not wrong.” You let out a small (and very emotionless) chuckle. You finally looked up at her.

“Seriously I cannot believe you are letting me be your friend when I’m dating the man you’ve been seriously in love with. What does that make me?”

“A girl who’s dating a guy who likes her back.” You told her.

The thing was, you weren’t mad at Sana. You never had an ill thought toward her. Yet, Sana was so guilty about something she (1) couldn’t control, and (2) had no idea about. You wanted to hate her, yes, but you didn’t. And Oikawa was your best friend.

“Sana, stop.” You cut her off in the middle of another rant as Sana continued about how mad she would’ve been and asking you again why you didn’t tell her about your love for the boy. “Sana! I don’t care! Truly. I told you when we first met that you had my full approval. Oikawa likes you, and I like you, and I seriously would’ve rather died than have this conversation.”

Sana gave you a look, then looked at Iwaizumi, and then back to you.

“How long have you been in love with him?”

You faked a smile. “That seems to be the question of the decade, huh?”

Tooru Oikawa showed up at your house for the first time in what seemed like forever. It was after the other two had left, and you were just lounging around (and just got off of facetime with Kuroo, which is beside the point).

“Hi.” He smiled as you swung the door open. “Please tell me that I can stay the night.”

You smiled, instantly forgetting about anything else. Because Oikawa was back to being the Oikawa you knew, and he was standing in front of you asking to stay the night.

“You can stay the night.”

You remember the very first time that Oikawa had slept in your bed with you. As kids, it never really counted, and your parents did their best to make sure the both of you slept in either separate beds or on blankets on the floor.

But, one night, Oikawa had showed up in the middle of the night. You were both still kids, basically right before puberty. He was soaking wet from rain. 

“Oikawa?” You turned your head. He grew a lot that summer. “What are you doing here?”

“I hate the lightning.” He admitted, stepping in and taking his (very wet) shoes. “Can I sleep here? My brother keeps teasing me.”

“Of course! O.M.G! We can have a sleepover. I have chocolate in my room.” 

He followed you up the stares, the both of you giggling and ready to stay up the entire night. You both lied, though, as you fell asleep before midnight. You woke up in his arms.

Sana was still your friend, you assumed. After she left, she never told you that she wanted time or space or anything of the sort. You figured that you’ve held your feelings down for this long and she noticed and it didn’t bother her.

It would’ve bothered you if you found out a friend was in love with your boyfriend.

Still, you were surprised when Sana linked her arm with yours at school. She still sent you her shining smile, waited for you before class, and talked nonsense.

“Sana, I’m confused.” You told her. She was grabbing her books out of her locker and you were standing beside her. She didn’t speak, so you continued. “I… I’m in love with your boyfriend. And you’re… you seem to be okay with the whole thing.”

“You’ve been in love with him for longer than I’ve known him.” Sana turned to you, the most serious you have ever witnessed from her. “Who am I to be mad about that? And I like our friendship, even if it did start with him.”

“You… you’re probably the coolest person ever. Actually.”

“I try to be.” Sana shut her locker, finally giving you a smile. “I’m not one to be jealous, but if this becomes some kind of kdrama I might have to use your weaknesses against you.”

“I can agree to that.”

You ate in the cafeteria for the first time in a long time. Iwaizumi and Matsukawa sat to the right of you at the circle tables, and Oikawa on your left. It felt normal. The only thing was, Sana was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Sana?” You asked Oikawa after a little bit, to which he shrugged.

“I don’t know. She said that she had something to do.”

You looked at Iwaizumi, as if he always had the answers you searched for, but he only gave you a confused look. Hm.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

You and Oikawa stood in the hallway, arm’s length away and walking in opposite directions. It was after lunch and before class, the perfect time to have an awkward conversation.

“You never stopped wearing my jersey. I saw you in it last game.” He said, sending you his priceless smile.

“I plan on wearing it again tonight. If that’s okay.”

“It’s always okay.” He kept smiling, but you could see it was a little more forced than usual. “I shouldn’t have ever asked you for it.”

“If you start to apologize again, I will punch you in the face. In front of everyone here.” You told him.

His hands came out of his pockets, reaching to you. “Deal. Oh! By the way, your tie is crooked.”

You gasped, looking to your chest, only to find your tie in perfect condition.

“Make you look.”

“You child!” You laughed, smacking his arm. He laughed too, sticking his tongue out at you.

Suzuki Sana had been dating Tooru Oikawa, officially, for a month. She liked it, for the most part. He adored her, truly, and made her laugh more than ever. He also happened to be a good kisser, something she would never admit.

The only thing was, she felt way closer to you than she did with Oikawa. Not in the same ways, of course, but it was true. She wasn’t expecting to be such close friends with you so quickly.

Sana tried her best not to be jealous, or upset, about you being in love with Oikawa. But it was hard. She was a lot of things but a jealous girlfriend was not one of them. Until she watched you and Oikawa talk.

It was just a small conversation between you and him, a short one in the hallway after lunch, but it was like a spotlight shone directly on the two of you and made everyone else disappear. She could almost see the love dripping off of your face when you smiled at something he said to you. And she definitely didn’t miss the way Oikawa looked at you with stars in his eyes.

So, yeah. That’s when something changed and Sana knew what to do.

There was only one fight between Tooru Oikawa and you that resulted in multiple days of no speaking. And it was your fault. It was something stupid, but it was important.

When you were young (probably around nine or ten), you had accidentally ripped Oikawa’s permission form to go to a volleyball summer camp. It was only a couple of weeks during the summer where he would be away, and they needed to turn in the paper by mail.

Oikawa was mad at you for two full days. He yelled at you, thought that you ripped it on purpose because you didn’t want him to go. You didn’t want him to go, of course, but the rip was on accident.

He apologized on the third day. And spent the rest of the summer forcing you to play volleyball with him. By the end, you still didn’t completely understand the sport.

You have known Oikawa your entire life, your parents being best friends since their high school days. It wasn’t unusual for your parents to have dinner together and leave “the children” (you) to hang out while they’re away.

It was one of those nights, and Oikawa was trying to convince you to throw some serves for him in the backyard. You sat on the porch, next to Oikawa’s older brother, refusing to do so.

“So, I hear you have been dating someone lately.” Oikawa’s brother turned to you, a mischievous smile plastered on his face. Oikawa froze from his position, ball in hand. You didn’t notice. “Tell me the details.”

“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You told him, face flushed.

“Ah! You’re so flustered right now!” He teased you. “Who is he?”

“No one. I’m not dating anyone.” You crossed your arms. You looked at Oikawa, trying to gauge his reaction. He had his back turned to you.

Oikawa’s brother noticed your focus, and you swore his grin got wider. “I see. You’re not over it.”

“Not over it.” You replied, both of you sharing a secret as old as time.

Tetsurou Kuroo had facetimed you one day after school, before one of Seijoh’s games. It was a filler game, one that didn’t count towards championships, but you were excited to go to a game when everything was back to normal.

“Hello, jersey.” He greeted through the phone. He was laying in bed, one arm under his head. You had a very thirsty thought, but you will keep that to yourself. You didn’t like Kuroo that way.

“Hello, hair.” You joked back, pointing out his hair (which was flat and on his face and not done per usual).

“Why are you still at school? The game doesn’t start for like half an hour.”

“I forgot something in my locker.” You told him, turning the corner towards your locker. “And my mom dropped me off before going to run some errands, so I’m here early.”

Kuroo talked to you for a minute about something volleyball related, and then something about something else you couldn’t remember, before you ended up at your locker.

The lockers were a bit shorter than the ceiling, so there was a space between the top of the locker. Right above yours was a blue athletic water bottle with an “O” on it. You chuckled, rolling your eyes, reaching up to grab it (using a shelf in your locker after not being able to reach).

“Hey, Kuroo, do you mind if I call you back later?”

“Yeah, cool. Talk to you later?”

You smiled at him from your camera. “I’ll probably text you during the game.”

He smiled and waved you goodbye. You clicked the end button as you twirled the full water bottle in your hand.

You walked into the gym, towards the boys who collected around the chairs by the coach. The minute you seen the back of Oikawa’s head, you knew that he wasn’t the happiest.

It was like the cheerful Oikawa from earlier had vanished.

“Hey, ‘Kawa…” you started, but before you could get any closer or say anything else, he pivoted.

His eyes met yours, and he was livid. The air was immediately tense.

“Dude can you fucking leave me alone for one minute?” Oikawa deadpanned. He was angry, his voice loud enough to cause most of the crowd to go silent to listen in. You froze in place. “Seriously, get off the court and let me play this fucking game without worrying about you. You know Sana broke up with me because of you? Did you know that? You always have to have some kind of interference for literally everything good happening in my life. Why don’t you go? Leave me be? You don’t even fucking like volleyball.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and your voice caught in your throat. You couldn’t move. You blinked.

“God, it’s so fucking annoying. I get it, you’re in love with me or whatever, but Jesus Christ dude find someone else to follow. ”

You swallowed. Not only did your heart shatter, but he also pointed every insecurity you had. Annoying him, being a bother… You couldn’t breathe. He knew. Of course he knew. How could he not know?

“Yeah, okay.” Your voice was small, and you were surprised that it didn’t waver. You held the waterbottle to him, hands shaking. “I was just bringing you your water bottle. You left it on top of my locker.”

You placed the water bottle on the ground next to the coach before walking out of the gym doors, and then sprinting down the hall.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Snowy Favours

i wrote this for one of my favourite humans in the entire world! @queen-of-demons-and-hell i just kind of forgot to post it on here oops

masterlist; my links

[image has alt text]

She smells coffee. And then pancakes, and then freshly squeezed orange juice. And suddenly she's three days into a Indonesian island holiday and there's sun streaming through her windows and the sheets draped over her bared skin are cool and if she opens her eyes she'll be met with ruffling lace curtains and the sight of the ocean just over the deck.

Annabeth Chase wakes up to silence. To darkness. To New York plunged into winter as if Khione had taken her rage out on the city over night. Snow covers the concrete buildings, already turning sloppy and muddied with the trek of never ending people. She is nowhere near Indonesia, nor in a villa overlooking blue waters. She is in her grungy apartment in her more-mattress-than-bed bed and the single window in her bedroom looks out onto the brick of the building next to her. In short its just another Monday morning.

The disappointment that floods through her is breathtaking. She feels her life swallow her up, wrapping around her lungs and squeezing as if it had taken lessons from a python. Her fingers curl around the duvet pulled over her as she stares at the wall, at the pictures littering it. She takes a deep breath, another, another. Slowly the python loosens, her heart returns to it's normal rhythm.

Glancing at the small pink clock on her bedside table she almost groans as she sees the time. Three minutes till her alarm rings. Not enough to dive back into bed but enough to consider it anyway. She forces herself to get up, feeling the cool of the wood under her feet and traipses to the bathroom where she is met with tile, the sudden cold pulls a hiss from her.

With a zombied look in her eyes she goes about her morning routine: pee, teeth, shower, change, scrounge around in empty cupboards for something at least half edible, scarf another energy bar when nothing better makes itself known, and then finally pack her bag and make her way out. She can do it with her eyes closed by now, sometimes she even does.

Still as she steps into the biting air that comes with snow her body wakes up considerably. With a curse that middles Greek and English, she twists her scarf tighter around her neck and pulls her beanie over her ears. She decides she can spare a moment to go to her favourite coffee shop this morning just to throw down a hot drink that hopefully scorches her insides.

With a determined step she sets off to the subway, earbuds shoved into her ears blaring "do re mi" by blackbear. A violent song for this early in the morning but one she mumbles along to all the same.

The coffee shop, as she so lovingly calls it, is more like a caravan sized hole wedged between two skyscrapers. It fits maybe five people comfortably, ten if you're looking to be smothered. But the coffee is beyond magical and they have the most decadent blueberry muffins she's ever had the pleasure to eat. Besides her best friend works here and really if anyone can turn her from bruised-eyed zombie to semi-human it's Percy Jackson.

The door creaks as she steps through, announcing her presence. She's too busy basking in the warmth of the little hovel to worry about the greeting thrown her way.

"Gods it's cold out there." She sucks in a breath, feeling her lungs defrost.

"Yes," Percy grins, "I suppose someone pissed off Khione again."

She rolls her eyes, as her body collapses against the black marble counter. "Khione gets pissed off about everything that's hardly an excuse to give us all frostbite."

"I suggest you take that up with her, because I cannot see any of us coming out alive after that conversation."

"Just give me a coffee you menace," She scrunches her nose in distaste, but cannot keep the playfulness out of her voice.

"Want a blueb?" He shakes a paper bag, something thumping inside. "On the house." The accompanying wink sets her cold skin on fire.

Her eyes narrow as she surveys him. His unruly black curls are kept back by three butterfly shaped clips, bright pink and probably Estelle's, and his skin browner— like dark roast coffee— from the weekend his family had taken in Spain three weeks before glows softly under the warm yellow light hanging above then. The black polo neck he wears under his "Holed Up" company t-shirt, makes his eyes look darker than normal. His jeans, faded blue, stand stark against the rest of his outfit. Even like this, in work appropriate clothes, he looks beautiful. Looks like the beginning of spring, and the happily ever after of stories, and the change of tides.

"What are you planning?" His look of incredulity almost makes her laugh.

"Why would you think I'm up to anything?"

"I've known you since we were twelve Jackson," She scoffs, as if his question is ridiculous in itself. "I know every face, every expression, every movement of your body. I know when you're up to something." She finishes off with a glare for good measure.

His green eyes are bright as he studies her, emotions warring across his face. To spill or not to spill. He pushes her coffee across the counter and she looks at him expectantly as she grabs the cup with both hands. Her numb fingers instantly start to sting with the sudden change in temperature.

"Fine." He sighs, looking at her through his lashes as if maybe be could get away with not telling her. She raises a brow. He curses under his breath and flops down on a chair hidden behind the counter.

"I need your help with something—"

Yes, of course, is on the tip of her tongue. She would do it. No hesitation. There's not much, not anything, she wouldn't do for him.

"But before you say no or worse get mad you have to hear me out." He finishes quickly. And then his eyes are big and pleading and she doesn't know if she wants to turn away or lean in closer, study that captivating green like it's the newest find in her paleontology class.

Instead she clears her throat, "What is it Percy?"

"I need you to be my fake girlfriend." He says it in one breath.

She almost asks him to repeat in case she hadn't heard right. But she knows she did. She knows she couldn't have heard anything else

He swallows. She blinks. He drops his head to his hands, a sigh already on his lips. She opens her mouth, snaps it shut.

"Okay I know it's...odd," He starts, "But I kind of got roped into going to a mixer with some people from my class and this one guy asked if we could go together but I don't really like him so I said no." Percy was rambling but she was too speechless to stop him. "But then he looked really hurt and I felt really bad so I kind of said I already had a partner which made him look less hurt but then Piper, the girl hosting the mixer, over heard me and said I should bring my partner along, since a few of them were bringing their partners, and you know I couldn't exactly back out of the lie after that so I said I would and well..." He gestures between them. "Then this happened."

Annabeth takes a sip of her coffee. And another, she downs almost half the cup before she has the ability to talk. "Why don't you just say your partner is sick on the day?"

It's her first question and instantly she wants to take it back. Because the flinch Percy tries to hide is enough to have her scrambling for a way to take back the words. Because it's not that she won't be Percy's (fake) partner, or even that she doesn't want to.

It's more that she doesnt know if she'll be able to draw the line between fake gestures and her very real feelings. Having a crush on someone for the better part of eight years tends to tug at her emotional side in a way that overules her logical one. Yes she can be Percy's fake girlfriend. No her heart won't believe the lopsided grin he gives her when he makes a bad joke will be 'just for show'. Yes she can hold hands with him and meet his friends. No she can't help the jump in her stomach as she sees the interlaced fingers.

"You don't have to." He says quietly. "I'll think of something." He waves it off, a small smile already finding its way onto his face. She knows, even without careful study, that it doesn't quite reach his eyes. She has to fix this.

"No." It comes out in a snap of rushed regret. "I will, I want to."

He looks at her, gaze wide, hesitant. "You do?"

She nods and then, as if the gesture isn't good enough stumbles through her words. "Yes, I want to." Her smile is shy, but the beam she's rewarded with nearly knocks her off her feet. "I think it'll be fun."

He scoffs at her, waving a hand. "Everything we do is fun. We're Percy and Annabeth."

And he says it's like there's no other way their names could be said. Like if someone says his hers must follow. Like if someone says hers his cannot possibly be far behind. He says it like they belong.

Her heart does a giddy sort of flip that spreads warmth through her chest and in her stomach, better than the coffee ever could.

"Okay Percy Jackson." She holds out her hand, to shake on. "Let's pretend to be madly in love."

With a wink, that causes her brain to explode, he takes her hand in his and turns it over before placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles.

She becomes the air itself. And as she floats to lectures she decides maybe it's not just another Monday. Maybe she did wake up in a paradise of sorts. Maybe life isn't so dull. She laughs to herself.

It can never be dull if Percy is there. It never has.

[mickstart]

what do you think are some iconic/memorable schumi moments? i just got into f1 and would like to know more about him bc somehow i can’t really find anything like that about him.... just stats which are incredibly impressive but i can’t find anything about how he behaved or just anything about his personality..... thanks <3

:) Hi anon, thank you for unleashing the beast.

Ok I love you for asking me this thank you SO MUCH. Welcome to the circus I’m glad you’re here! Also yeah, Schumi is often talked about in terms of statistics and not as a human, Which is a shame bc like! Schumi is fascinating and the dynamics on the grid in late 90s F1 is so much fun! Also, this is mainly going to be late 90s -> early 2010s stuff bc I was born in 98 so uhhh I didn’t properly witness ANY 90s stuff and had to learn about it.

OK so I got super carried away but I’ve divided this into 3 sections: Drives/races that I think showcase some of his talents, human moments we need to talk about more, and Chaotic Little Bitch moments. The key thing to remember w/ Schumi is that he personally tends to be nice but as soon as you put him in a competition, Bastard Mode activates like a cat’s pupils going wide.

I am so sorry for the following short essay. Also some crashes are briefly mentioned but only ones with absolutely no injuries and there’s no details.

Chaotic Little Bitch Moments

Schumi debuted as a SUBSTITUTE driver for Jordan when one of their drivers was in police custody (yes. really.) The highest a Jordan had qualified all year was 10th and in his DEBUT at SPA, one of the toughest tracks, in the middle of the season, Schumi qualified that Jordan 7th! THEN his clutch failed before the first lap was even complete, but Benetton and Jordan WENT TO COURT to fight each other to sign him for their team before the next race in Monza. He couldn’t debut normally he HAD to cause a scene and set the tone.

The Red Strings of Fate: He qualified 7th, his iconic 7 starred helmet, his first victory next year was ALSO at Spa - his first complete race would be at Monza, Ferrari Holy Ground, and he finished 5th which 👀 1) he was immediately racing with The Greats. 2) Mr 5 Championships With Ferrari.

Winning a race by taking a stop and go penalty on the last lap, crossing the finish line in the pits, and making such a complicated argument about said penalty that in a hearing that was SUPPOSED to be Mclaren protesting the race result the stewards scrapped the entire penalty and the 3 who awarded it handed in their licenses??? Iconic.

Austria 2002 where Rubens was ordered to give the win to Michael. And then Michael fucking made him stand on the top step on the podium like “oh no no no RUBENS deserves this” and made a big SHOW out of it and its like “Michael stop you’re not making it heartwarming you’re making it WORSE Michael STOP” The Tension of germany 2010 podium VS the theatricality of THIS podium.

Team orders were banned because of this which also makes this indirectly responsible for Fernando Is Faster Than You having to be a coded message. You can’t escape him,

Blocking Alonso in Monaco qualifying and then, years later in 2010, overtaking Alonso technically illegally at Monaco (the race was ending under safety car, but the safety car doesn’t lead them over the line it pits and they’d crossed the safety car line and the regulations were NOT specific about the rules) and getting a 20 second penalty bc Damon Hill was a steward. Haunting FERNANDO specifically at Monaco like the ghost of christmas past? Getting a harsh penalty because ANOTHER driver he’d fucked over was a steward? Forcing the FIA to rewrite the rulebook to account for his nonsense when he was in his FOURTIES? I don’t know another chaos king.

Winning the 1995 championship by crashing into Damon Hill, getting AWAY with it for some reason, and then trying to do the same thing in 1997 to Villeneuve, failing to do so and simply rebounding off of him harmlessly, almost COMICALLY, and beaching his own car in a gravel trap at which point the FIA said “I have had ENOUGH of you Wacky Races Man!” and disqualified him from the entire championship

Forcing Mika off the track so bad at Spa 2000 that Mika realized the only way he was gonna be able to get past him was to re-invent the overtake and go for it whilst they were passing a backmarker. (The overtake itself is at 2:05 in the video but the build up to it is Important bc the key part it’s not just badass, it only happened bc Mika knew who he was dealing with.)

Spa 1998 was a Ridiculously Chaotic race it truly was the Mugello 2020 of its year, and after a crash at the start that took out almost the entire grid Schumi accidentally collided with Coulthard later in the race. (The teams used to have a spare car at every race then, so the race was able to continue after a restart.) This wasn’t a racing thing, Coulthard was getting lapped. So something in Schumi SNAPS, and he storms down the pitlane and tries to fight Coulthard while the mclaren and ferrari mechanics both hold him back and finally drag him away. He projected into the future, saw Coulthard was gonna talk non-stop shit about Seb, and acted accordingly.

Monaco 2012 Pole don’t talk to me about this I still can’t believe the audacity of this man to get the only pole of his comeback, at MONACO, at the ONE RACE where he had a 5 place grid penalty to take!!

In general, I know Cheating Bad but. I HAVE to admire the brainpower it must take to have the rulebook so memorized that whilst driving an F1 car Schumi could spot a loophole the size of the eye of a needle and then dance through it, forcing the FIA to add ANOTHER page to the rule book specially for him bc nobody else even REALISED that loophole existed.

Human Moments

A quick rant about Mika and Schumi’s entire friendship. After Spa 2000 Mika goes up to Michael, says something like “Don’t ever do that again” then they’re friends again. They had this mutual understanding that Racing was not Reality. This goes all the way back to their F3 days they were rivals AND friends for their entire career. They truly were the Sewis of the era if Sebastian was like 50% more evil. Their entire dynamic is “You’re the only motherfucker in this pit lane who can handle me”. Schumi would do some bullshit and every other driver would throw up their hands in frustration and Mika would just go “Okay” and drive better to put him in his place bc he was the only one who could keep up, and Schumi very visibly LOVED that he’s grinning after Mika owns his entire ass with that overtake at Spa. They were unstoppable force meets immovable object and I’m so sad their rivalry isn’t more talked about bc the way Mika is the only driver who can get him to behave like a normal human being is SO entertaining.

This is a sad one so I won’t link it but he started crying in the 2000 Monza press-conference with his brother and Mika when he equaled one of Senna’s records. The press kept trying to ask questions about it and Mika just has this death grip on his shoulder and tries to get them to stop or let them take a break and it’s so sad but also important to know about.

Once said he didn’t want Mick to race in F1 bc the pressure of his name would put Mick under so much stress and he wanted his son to be happy. (He fully supported Mick in his endeavors! But only after making absolutely sure it was what Mick wanted, and making sure he knew he could just race for fun if he wanted and it didn’t have to be F1)

This whole interview just after Mick was born with the Schumacher family. Special shout out to Gina on his head the entire video and also Corinna talking to the press while Michael is captivated by Mick. Me too Michael.

Once allegedly pleaded to take a stray kitten home from the track?

I reblogged this yesterday but. Sticking like glue to Sebastian at an F1 test and immediately being like “This is my new son he’s gonna go far”. There’s a lot of pictures out there also of Michael being a guest at the karting races Seb went to as a kid and baby Seb visibly losing his fucking mind at being given a trophy by his idol. Every day of my life I think about him trying to ruffle Seb’s hair through his helmet at Brazil 2012

WInning the championship in 2000. Him thanking the entire team individually and pausing mid-celebration to kiss his wife Corinna so tenderly it’s in the F1 opening. Also, the way it literally cuts from the rest of McLaren looking like they’re attending a funeral to Mika grinning at him and hugging him fucking SENDSSSSS me.

Schumi was a little shit in all the 2010-12 press conferences like, lowering Lewis’ chair, playing with a microphone wire, but ESPECIALLY corrupting baby Seb and getting him to mess with Nico Rosberg.

He’s just GOOFY! Like I refuse to let him be remembered as a terrifying force of nature he was so goofy kind of similarly to Seb. PLEASE watch this incredibly awkward interview he did with Coulthard on a golf buggy where they both had to pretend they hadn’t thought about murdering each other at least once. I think Sky F1 should force Brocedes to do this when covid’s over. “Do you mind if I drive?” “Yes.”

EDIT: I CANNOT BELIEVE I forgot the 1999 Canada press conference where Eddie Irvine and Mika Hakkinen get into a water fight and Schumi immediately grabs a towel and hides behind it and is like “I had NOTHING to do with it” 🥺 adorable, actually

A lot of people at Ferrari, including Rob Smedley (who was on the other side of the garage with Felipe Massa so not in his inner circle) have said that a lot of the success of the team came from Schumi’s LEADERSHIP more than anything, that he’d make the team get together to bond all the time. When Schumi moved to Ferrari in 1996 they were NOT dominant. He did the same thing Lewis did - went to a team that everybody said would be a huge mistake and helped build them up behind the scenes.

THIS bit of the Canada 2011 Rewind where his engineer gives him the strategy and he’s like “... OkaAaAaAay?” and then when it turns out to be the wrong strategy he cheerfully tells them it’s too late. Little shit.

Speaking of Mercedes I also wanna say that like. They were a MESS in 2012 and his car DNF’d because of a failing on their part MULTIPLE times. (In Canada qualifying his DRS was stuck open and they couldn’t close it.) He did not say a single bad word about them EVER even though the press used this to attack him non-stop as washed-up and bad without Ferrari to cheat for him. At Ferrari he was the exact same with the team, any bastard antics Schumi had for his rivals did not extend to the engineers and crew.

OK this one is soured bc Top Gear is trash BUT if you were like, a kid in England who followed motorsports? Schumi’s fake reveal as The Stig on Top Gear was like the coolest, sickest thing,

Please view this image of Schumi and Mika when they were young and stupid

Iconic Races

ok so I have limited myself to a few races that show off some of his key strengths!

Hungary 1998 / France 2004 - STRATEGY/SPEED - Schumi switched to a 3 stop strategy in 98 and a FOUR STOP strategy in 04 and won both races. In order for the strategy call to work he’d have to basically make every single lap a qualifying style ‘flying lap’ and you best fucking believe he DID THAT. God I fucking miss when Ferrari was the king of strategy.

Argentina 1998 -  has it all. Talent, battling Mika, pit lane mind games with mclaren, and bullying coulthard xxx

Spain 1996 / a majority of the wet races - RAIN - One of Schumi’s nicknames was Rain Master bc he was so fucking good in the wet. If it started raining and you were a Schumi stan you were cackling evilly before the red lights even went out. I single out 1996 bc it was his first win for Ferrari and it was unexpected but in most wet races, even Canada 2011 post comeback, you can see Schumi thriving.

Malaysia 1999 - Schumi missed pretty much the entire second half of the season with a broken leg, came back for the last 2 races with everybody murmuring about whether he would struggle, and immediately put the Ferrari on pole. Also worth noting is that he was the number 2 driver for these 2 races bc his teammate Irvine was fighting Mika for the championship and he went along with that without complaint, allowing Ferrari to win the constructor’s championship if not the driver’s.

Monza 2002, 03, 04, or 06 just because it has the energy of the tifosi kneeling at the feet of an idol to their red god.

Brazil 2006 - Fuck All Y’all - Schumi’s last race for Ferrari. He got a puncture and ended up almost lapped, and then drove his way back from that to 4th bc he couldn’t go out without reminding us he’s a bad bitch.

Monza 2012 - Defending - Don’t tell F1 Twitter that there’s actual footage of Lewis and Michael having a genuine lengthy battle on track but DO watch Michael defending like a motherfucker and Lewis breathing down his neck for half the race we need to talk about this more.

Valencia 2012 - This isn’t necessarily anything special but I cried in my living room over the only podium of his comeback so it goes on here. It doesn’t have the same impact if you haven’t been watching him struggle with the car for years, DNF-ing from car failure most of 2012, and having BBC F1 telling you he’s washed up every single weekend, but you can just enjoy one of the best drives of FERNANDO’S entire career as he DRAGS that Ferrari by its hair to a home grand prix win and then watch the crowds embrace him like jesus and also Schumi being happy on the podium. Also, the very start of this clip from the press conference: him forgetting what language he’s supposed to be speaking 

Basically, Schumi was a hyper-competitive ambitious bitch who turned into a goofball as soon as he switched the engine off. This is by NO MEANS everything if I was making an exhaustive best races guide I’d do more research and another post but I hope this is what you were looking for?? THANK YOU SO MUCH for letting me go MAXIMUM SPECIAL INTEREST and I apologize.

[stargazing-dreamer-girl]

Royalty

Fandom: The Irregulars

Pairing: Billy x female!OC, Leopold x Bea, unrequited Leopold x female!OC

WC: 17k (You can also find it on ao3 here)

Summary: Mary-Belle has always been like family to Leopold. The only one who stuck by his side and rather stayed inside with him than to go outside. That was, until he decided to leave the palace for an adventure and found new friends there, a new family. But, of course, Mary-Belle was still worrying about her friend, the one she had been in love with for years. She watched as he fell in love with Beatrice and still tried to keep him out of trouble, getting pulled into it herself by doing so. With the end of the world near she tries her best.

A/N: This has taken me so long to write and it's the longest one-shot I've ever written. I put a lot of work into this and I hope you guys like it as it is my little baby xD I also posted this on ao3 and linked it above since reading longer stuff on tumblr can be a pain. So, Enjoy!

Whenever she moved through the castle, Mary-Belle carried herself with grace. Her back straight, her head held high, so as to proclaim her status without uttering a single word. Nobody stopped her on her way to Prince Leopold’s room. Somebody knocked on the door for her when she came to a stop in front of it. It was opened right away for her to enter. She gave the servant a small nod in thanks. They knew not to enter after her, so as soon as she was in the room the door was closed behind her.

“You’re back,” she spoke the obvious. Leopold was standing in front of the mirror that looked just as expensive as anything else in the room. He met her gaze through the reflection. She had moved to the middle of the room, hands on her hips and eyes glued to him. He let out a sigh and gave up on arranging his clothes before turning around, feeling the whole weight of her disapproving stare. “You can’t keep disappearing on me. I don’t care if you run away from your family, but not me. You tell me where you go. I worry too, you know. We don’t keep secrets from each other.” She had stepped closer, her hands on his coat, adjusting it to sit right with harsh movements.

“I know, Mary. I’m sorry.” Her touches got softer adjusting his collar before she took a step back when he looked presentable. “But you don’t have to worry. They probably hate me for leaving again and there’s no way I can go back with the soiree taking place tonight.”

She went to sit on the sofa by the foot of his bed, patting the spot next to her, so that he would sit down as well. “Tell me what happened since the last time we saw each other.” So, he sat next to her and told her about the woman who had stolen people’s teeth and tried to assassinate the duke of Winchester and about the mansion they were trapped in and the tarot cards. “If you were anyone else, I would not believe these stories at all,” she laughed softly. Stories about magic certainly were quite unbelievable. On the other hand, the danger Leopold seemed to be putting himself in was very real and believable. “Is there anything else?” She knew that there was. Having known him since childhood she had learned how to read him like an open book. All his mannerism and quirks, she knew about.

“I kissed Bea.” She ignored the way her way heart seemed to constrict at the statement. The way he smiled and the gleam in his eyes let her know everything she needed. The girl, who she had hoped would just be of short interest to him, had made its way into his heart and taken it over. There was no way now for her to find her place there. So instead, she smiled and placed her hand on his arm reassuringly. “But right after, I left. I heard the bells and was about to be late for the weekly breakfast with my mother. I did miss it actually and now Daimler is onto me. He’s the one who talked to my mother, so that I would be allowed to go to Louise’ birthday soiree. All that so he can keep an eye on me.”

“You are helpless, Leo,” announced Mary-Belle. “You cannot kiss a girl and then just leave. Imagine how she must feel.” His gaze moved to the floor. His thoughts had been about how he would make it back in time and not how Bea would be feeling in this moment. He wanted to hit his head for his ignorance. “But there is nothing you can do about it now. Let’s just enjoy the soiree. You might actually like it.” She stood and walked towards the door, not waiting for Leopold. He would need another moment to gather his thoughts before he would attend, so she made her way down to the room by herself where everyone already appeared to be having a good time. There were couples dancing and people talking. A lively atmosphere filled the room. A servant offered her a glass. She lifted it off the tray, her gloved fingers gently holding on to it. The sweetly bitter taste filled her mouth when she took a sip. It took some getting used to before she actually enjoyed the drink.

Rather quickly she was able to find Louise between all these people and made her way over to the girl to wish her a happy birthday and talk to her. “Have you seen Leopold’s entrance? He is already rather popular,” noticed Louise, gesturing towards the dance floor where Leopold held a blonde girl close while they swayed to the music. Mary-Belle hadn’t even realized he was present. “Although he does appear to be a rather inept dancer. I thought the two of you had practiced.”

“Ever since we were little, yes,” confirmed Mary-Belle, “his thoughts are elsewhere tonight which seems to be translating into his dancing. He is quite competent at other times.” The two girls watched as Leopold once again stepped on his dancing partner’s feet, but fortunately the song came to a close and they moved off the dance floor. He apparently didn’t lose his appeal to the girl either since she led him over to a group of people and introduced him. “He seems to be doing well enough for himself,” she pointed out.

Louise agreed before her attention was taken up by another person. “Oh, I almost forgot, there was someone I wanted to introduce you to.” She grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her along past the group Leopold was sitting with, coming to a stop in front of two men. They were quite handsome but didn’t seem to have much to offer other than that. They appeared to have grown up with the idea that having good looks made a personality unnecessary. She entertained them for a little while for Louise’ sake before she wandered off on her own.

She noticed Leopold leaving the room with the girl he had been dancing with. She considered following them but decided against it and let herself get distracted by her surroundings. Louise got ahold of her again, pulling her to another couple of girls whose behavior was already influenced by the alcohol. They were laughing loudly, holding each other up while they filled Louise and Mary-Belle in about Eleanor Margot, the girl Leopold had been spending his evening with. Like how she only cared for herself. A trait she shared with many people present tonight. It came with the upbringing.

But when Eleanor Margot returned, Leo wasn’t by her side anymore. An uneasy feeling filled Mary, so she excused herself and approached Eleanor. “Where is Leopold?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I left him upstairs somewhere.” She waved her hand dismissively, rolled her eyes and turned away from Mary-Belle who was equally as irritated by the short exchange. Making her way upstairs to look for Leopold she passed some people who had separated themselves from the happenings of the soiree and a passed-out girl. She checked one room that was being occupied by a couple that didn’t even realize someone had entered. She quickly left.

The next room was barely illuminated. She entered cautiously but there were no noises coming from the direction of the bed this time. But, through the thin curtains hung in front of the windows she could make out two figures out on the balcony. Curiosity took over. When she came to a halt in front of the window, she moved the curtain slightly, just enough to look through the opening, but hopefully not enough to be noticed. On the balcony, Leopold and Daimler were in the middle of what looked like a very intense conversation with Leo standing on the other side of the railing.

Before she fully realized what was happening Leo had jumped. A shocked gasp escaped her. She moved away from the window, the curtain slipping from her hand. Her shaking hands came up to cover her mouth. What had he done? She hurried to the door to the balcony. Daimler was already gone and when she looked down, Leopold was nowhere to be seen either. She hoped he was alright, that he hadn’t hurt himself and was on the way to his friends. She would have to go look for him herself to make sure of it, but for now she would return home. Too many thoughts filled her head, worries about Leo’s wellbeing.

She made straight for the doors, taking one of the awaiting carriages and drove home. As she looked out onto the streets of London her thoughts were on Leo who had to be out there somewhere. Once again, he had left her without a word. It had been just by coincidence she had seen it happen. She didn’t want to think that she would never be as important to him as Beatrice and his new friends were even though they had known each other almost all their lives and he had just met them. It hurt too much, so she pushed that thought away. She wouldn’t think that way. She would find Leo and he would have a reasonable explanation for it all. Or at least she hoped he did.

Her plans to look for Leopold had to be moved to the day after because after waking up the next morning her mother announced that Mary-Belle had to accompany her. It was a rather annoying thought to be stuck by her mother’s side all day when she could be out. She’d rather use the day to find Leopold than to attend boring meetings with other ladies who would just end up talking about themselves, their husbands or their children. But she complied. They went to a tea house first. If she weren’t as worried, she might have actually enjoyed it. The place was quaint with only a few tables for guests to sit down, the food looked delicious and the tea smelled even more so. The woman who served them the tea always had a friendly smile on her round face that put Mary-Belle at ease. She was quite certain that that woman would provide better company than her current one. But she couldn’t leave. It would put a bad reputation on her family. How ironic life could be. That she had more sense for keeping up her family name than Leopold did. And he was the Prince of England! If she were more like him, she’d just stand up, walk out and search the streets until she found her friend.

She stayed. She stayed and listened to the conversations that were always the same with a small smile on her face that was as fake as the friendship between her mother and the other women present. When appropriate she chuckled. When it was expected of her, she told an anecdote that didn’t happen the way she said but that didn’t matter. Not to these people. Not to her. She could come up with anything as long as it was a story that fit the picture her family painted of themselves in public and what was demanded of her.

The sun was already setting when they returned home. Going out now would be a lost cause. She wouldn’t find anything, even if she didn’t get lost. It had to wait until tomorrow. Maybe she could study a map. Her father had to have some of them. She would ask at the dinner table. Most of the time she got what she wanted, so she was hopeful. It might make it easier to find Leo. And, like she had expected, her father let her into his study after dinner, rolling out a map on the desk. He asked her what she needed it for, but she waved him off with the explanation that she was just curious about London’s infrastructure which – even in her ears – sounded like a weak excuse, but her father believed her. He left her alone with the words that she can stay there as long as she wanted. She just had to be careful and put everything away when she was done.

When the door closed, she allowed herself to relax a bit more. She wasn’t exactly sure how the map would help her now, but she had hope. Leopold did mention some stuff when he told her about his new friends, so she just had to look for some of those markers. It couldn’t be that hard to do. She could find the cellar somehow, she was certain.

The Duck and Quiver. That’s what she needed to look out for. It had to be around here somewhere. She had followed the roads the map had told her to take and she was sure she was in the right place. She had to be. She took a turn to get off Baker Street. It was already a lot different from the environment she was used to, but it was oddly nice. The way the people interacted here out in the streets felt a lot more genuine than she’d ever experienced with people of the royal court. A man was shouting at another, shoving him before they both broke into laughter. Two women sat off to the side watching some kids kick an old can around in the middle of the street as they talked with each other with genuine smiles on their faces.

She took another turn and, in the distance, saw the sign she was looking for; the Duck and Quiver, it read. A relieved sigh left her. She had been looking all morning and finally found it. She made her way over and even before she got there, she saw Leopold. He was up on his feet, so he wasn’t hurt too badly, she concluded. He actually looked happy standing there with the crowds of people passing him.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him further to the side before he knew what was happening. But, when he saw her there, he smiled at her. “You found me!” he announced happily.

“I did! But I only went searching because I saw you jumping off the frigging balcony! Do you know how dangerous that is!” She shoved his shoulder. “I was so worried! I mean, you jumped off a bloody balcony, for fuck’s sake! I thought you wouldn’t put yourself in danger like that. We had just talked about it and then you go and do that. I can’t believe you!” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Leopold tried the same by putting his hand on her arm but she shook it off. “Are you hurt?” she asked. For the first time she completely took in his appearance. His clothes were clean and the patches of skin she could see seemed unharmed.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry,” said Leopold.

“Well, I do worry because you’re my friend,” she explained, hitting him in the side this time. He hissed at the contact. His face scrunched up trying to fight the pain. “You have got to be kidding me! Leopold! You are not fine. How bad is it?”

“It’s fine, really.” She wanted to protest and look at the wound but Leopold didn’t let her speak or pull up his shirt to reveal his side. “I was hurt a little. There was no going around it, you know that. But I have been lying in bed since then to heal and it’s gotten a lot better. I can move, no problem.”

“That didn’t look like it was fine though,” she argued motioning towards his side.

“Well, yes, but you hit me! It’s fine if there is no one purposefully hitting me there. See,” He stood straight, opening his arms and jumping a little, “completely fine again.”

“Fine.” She gave in. There was no way she could convince Leo to rest anymore now. She has had to deal with his injuries before. He never stayed in bed for long. She looked around the place again, watching the people walking by, wondering if any of them were his new friends. “So, they forgave you?” She didn’t need to say which ‘they’ she was referring to for him to understand.

“They did.” He nodded. He noticed the distaste in her face, correctly assuming that it wasn’t aimed towards the people around, the place itself or his new friends. She was still mad at him for leaving. “Please, forgive me. I didn’t mean to leave like that. It was just all getting too much. That life,” He gestured towards the general direction of the castle, “it’s not what I want. I can’t keep living like that, if it means living a life of unhappiness. I wasn’t meant for that kind of life. All my life I was being locked away in the palace. It’s not what I want anymore. It wasn’t ever what I wanted, but I didn’t have a choice. I was born into that life, but now I found a way out. I found another life for myself with friends who like me for who I am and don’t just try to get close to me because of my family.”

“So, you think I’m not a real friend, that I don’t care about you and just want to spend time with you because – what, because you are the prince?” Leopold reached for her hand but was once again shaken off as she took a step back, tears collecting in her eyes out of both anger and sadness. “I was always there for you. Always. And not because of your status or your family but because of you, Leo.”

He tried again to reach out and pulled her back towards him before she could run off. “That is not what I mean. You are my friend, Mary. You are one of the few people in that place I actually care about and leaving you behind wasn’t easy. I never thought you were just there because of my status. Hell, you wouldn’t be here now if you didn’t care about me. You mean a lot to me, Mary, and me leaving that life has nothing to do with you.” He wiped the stray tear that had escaped off her cheek, his voice soft. “I told you everything about how I felt in that place, how trapped I felt. I often thought, you might even know me better than I do myself, but you can’t say stuff like that. It’s simply not true.”

“I know,” she admitted in a small voice. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry. And I’m happy you got out, really, and that you made things right with your friends. I’ll be here for you no matter what. You can always count on me.” She looked up at him. They both calmed down and stepped a little farther apart. The close proximity felt too intimate all of a sudden.

“Well, uhm, do you, maybe, want to meet them?” He asked, unsure of what else to say, but she shook her head no.

“No, thanks. I… should probably go home before my parents notice and everyone thinks we ran away together.” She laughed, even if she didn’t quite feel like laughing having to leave Leopold again shortly after finding him, but it was true. She had to get back. “But I will come back tomorrow, if that’s alright.” At least now she knew where to find him.

“Yes, of course!” He nodded excitedly. But then his attention was caught by something behind Mary-Belle. She turned to follow his line of sight. There stood a girl with a round face that was framed by her long dark hair. She was beautiful. By the way Leopold looked at her, that had to Beatrice. Bea, for short. Mary-Belle wouldn’t call her Bea. She didn’t know a lot about her. Leo had told her that all of them were orphans. Beatrice had a sister, but Mary-Belle had forgotten her name. And of course, Beatrice was the one Leo was in love with. She was looking right back at the pair, confusion clear on her face. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” said Mary-Belle and went in the direction of the Baker Street to find her way back from there.

“Mary-Belle!” Leopold called after her before she had gotten far. “And don’t tell anyone where I am!”

“Of course not,” she reassured him. “Just… be safe.” He promised her to be, but given what they had already experienced, he would probably not be able to keep that promise. He would try though. Or at least not tell her if he weren’t. They exchanged a last smile before they each turned towards where their life was taking place.

All the while they had been watched by Billy and Spike who had been sitting in the perfect position to see when Mary-Belle had pulled Leo to the side, catching Spike’s attention. “Hey, who’s that girl with Leo?” he asked his friend pointing towards the two of them who seemed to be arguing. Spike flinched when Leo was hit in the side, imagining the pain that must have caused him.

“I don’t know,” said Billy, taking in the situation with suspicion. “Looks like another rich girl who wouldn’t look our way twice. Just another one thinking they’re so much better than us. Just look at her.” The distaste on her face supported his argument. “Maybe he used to have something going on with her.” He shrugged. The situation interested him. Her presence alone and the way the both of them seemed to be close spoke against everything Leo had told them. When Leo cradled her face, Billy was convinced that what he had said was the truth. The way that girl looked at Leo held a lot of emotions.

“But what about Bea?” asked Spike. “I thought Leo liked her?”

“Maybe Leopold is a wanker, like I’ve been telling you guys. He doesn’t deserve Bea. Especially not like that.” He looked on, like Spike did, until they went their separate ways. “I’ll be right back,” he let Spike know before walking after her.

When Mary-Belle stepped out onto Baker Street the scenery changed immediately. Men were walking by in expensive suits and the road wasn’t as dirty. She let out a yelp when she was pulled back. A blond boy was towering over her intimidatingly, staring her down. With every step he took, she moved back, away from Baker Street and the people who might intervene in this situation. “Who are you and how do you know Leo?” he basically barked at her. Mary-Belle felt more at ease at his statement, not backing away anymore. Her searching eyes stopped to look at his face. This guy knew Leo. Not a lot of people did, so he had to be one of his friends. She hoped he was. Her change in composure didn’t go unnoticed by him which aggravated him even more. His chest heaving heavily, his fists clenched by his sides.

“I’m Mary-Belle, Leopold’s… acquaintance,” she said studying the face in front of her. His blue eyes stared right back at her. His dark-blond locks were cut short. She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you are?”

He ignored her question. “That back there didn’t look it was between acquaintances,” he argued. Mary-Belle’s eyes left his face shortly to look back to the direction she’s had her conversation with Leopold.

“I fear, that’s not any of your business. Why should I tell you anything anyway? You won’t even tell me your name.” She smirked. His face turned red, his muscles flexing. He looked a lot more intimidating like this. Maybe that was a mistake, maybe she shouldn’t have provoked him.

“What are you doing, Billy?” called Leopold’s voice. Mary-Belle let out a sigh of relief when ‘Billy’ backed away from her. She looked to where his voice came from. He was making his way over quickly, followed by Beatrice and two others. A pale girl with long dark hair that was pulled back into a braid, who she assumed must be Beatrice’ sister, and a boy with brown skin who focused on getting between Billy and Mary-Belle and talking the former down.

All eyes were on Leo and Mary-Belle when he came up to her, asking if she was alright and if Billy had hurt her. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just surprised. Not hurt or anything.”

“Who is that, Leo?”, asked Beatrice, her arms folded in front of her chest and an eyebrow raised. The other three were standing behind her as if to back her up, metaphorically and literally. Billy had seemed to calm down, but his eyes never left Mary-Belle even when Beatrice addressed Leo.

“I’m Mary-Belle.” She answered in his stead. “And I can speak for myself, thank you.” She smiled sweetly at them. “I’m a childhood friend of Leo’s.” This answer had to satisfy her because she couldn’t think of much else that wouldn’t reveal Leo’s identity this quickly but she was already thinking about a believable story. She’d stick to the truth as far as she could. It would make it easier.

“And what are you doing here, Mary-Belle?”

“Well, Beatrice,” if it affected Beatrice in any way that Mary-Belle knew her name, she didn���t show it, “I knew that Leo had run away from his home situation, so I was worried. But now that I know where he is and that he’s fine, I’ll be leaving. Which, by the way, had been my plan all along, hadn’t your friend here stopped me.” She eyed Billy up and down once more who was still looking back at her. “Well, it was nice to meet you, but I’m gonna take my leave now.” Instead of going around the group to get to the street she moved straight forwards. Beatrice moved out of her way, but Billy remained where he was. She ignored it, shoving him lightly with her shoulder as she moved past him. This time they let her go, but the questioning wasn’t over. Now they focused on Leo.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any friends,” said Jessie. Her tone was not accusing in any way, just curious, different from all the looks he got from the others.

“I did say that. I lied,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. She’s the only friend I have. This is the truth, I swear. She’s the only one at home who ever really cared for me. She cares enough to know that I couldn’t stay there, that I had to get away from that life she’s a part of. That’s also why she came, to check up on me, to see if I was alright. I swear to you guys, that’s the truth. I didn’t tell you because…” He stopped for a second. Why hadn’t he told them about Mary-Belle? “If you had known that there was this person at home that cared about me like she does, you wouldn’t have let me in, we wouldn’t be the way we are now.” And he had wanted to keep her a secret. She had stuck by his side all their life. He never understood why she had decided to stay inside with him when there was so much to see outside of the palace. She did go outside, partly due to his request, but she’d always come back and tell him about what she’d seen. Even if it felt wrong, she belonged to a different part of his life. A life that didn’t fit into this group.

The others were still unconvinced, but let it go for now. He had broken their trust, but his reasoning was understandable, so they would forgive him soon. But now they had things to do. They huddled together revising the plan they had made the night before on how to efficiently shadow Watson before they started the operation.

The next day, Mary-Belle followed the same way she had taken before. Now that she knew where to find Leopold, she didn’t have to stop and overthink whether she should have taken that turn back there or the one up ahead, whether she walked in the right direction or should turn around. The streets were just as crowded as before but a familiar sight made her stop in her tracks.

Men of the castle, dressed in their uniform, were roaming the streets. As she took a closer look, she recognized one of them as Daimler who had been responsible for Leopold for as long as she could remember. They talked shortly with each other, three in total. Then they parted ways. But none of them walked back towards the castle. Rather they seemed to stroll down the streets, their gazes moving over the people. It took her a second to understand what was happening, but when she did, Mary-Belle hurried, taking a different way to get around them and to Leopold before Daimler did.

She kept looking behind her to reassure herself she had lost them or that she at least was in front of them. She had just thrown another look over her shoulder when she bumped into someone. She was about to apologize and move on when the voice of the person she had run into reached her ears. “What happened that you look so panicked, Mary-Belle?”

Leopold looked at her questioningly when she grabbed his arms and looked at him with wide eyes. “Daimler is out looking for you. I saw his men stopping people who resembled you. He’ll be here soon.” She looked back over her shoulder seeing one of Daimler’s men already down the street. “There is one of them!” She pointed him out to Leo. “I’ll distract him,” she offered. “You go hide!” Leopold thanked her quickly before he turned on his heel and ran in the other direction.

She did her best to regain her composure taking a deep breath before she moved into the path of Daimler’s man, looking as much of a fine lady as she was born to be. Her mother had taught her well. “You’re looking for Prince Leopold, have I heard correctly? Did something happen to him?” She faked a surprised gasp, leaning in conspiratorially. “Did someone take him? I had thought my eyes were deceiving me when I saw him in Acton, but it seems he indeed left the palace. He must still be there. It hasn’t been long since then.” She was lucky this man didn’t recognize her as he thanked her for her help and ran off. Not even the fact that she knew of Leopold’s existence threw him off.

While that man was now going to look for Prince Leopold in the wrong part of the city, she remained in the right one. Since she didn’t know where exactly he went to hide, she walked on towards the place she had talked with him in yesterday. He wasn’t to find there either, but she recognized two of his friends standing around there. One of them was the brutish one who had rudely confronted her the day before. Billy, if she remembered correctly. The other one she hadn’t caught the name of but he was the one walking up to her now with a friendly smile on his face. “You’re Leo’s friend, aren’t you? I’m Spike! Nice to meet you! I actually wanted to apologize for this lad’s behavior yesterday.” He pointed his thumb back over his shoulder at Billy who was eyeing the two of them skeptically. He leaned in and whispered, “He can be nice too, y’know, just doesn’t show it in front of new people.” She chuckled. He seemed the type.

“I understand. I guess, I would be reluctant too if a stranger showed up all of a sudden. My name’s Mary-Belle, but you can call me Mary if you want,” she offered.

“Are you kidding me? Of course, I remembered your name. How could I forget? Grumpy over there wouldn’t shut up about you last night.” This caused a real laugh to bubble up in her throat. Spike laughed with her and led her over to mentioned Grumpy.

“Always a pleasure, Billy.” She smiled at him. His expression turned even sourer. She hadn’t known it to be possible hadn’t she seen it with her own eyes. She turned back towards Spike who seemed to be more willing to engage in a conversation with her. “Have you seen Leo by any chance? I was looking for him.”

“Haven’t seen him since he left the cellar this morning, but he’s supposed to meet us here soon. You’re welcome to wait with us.” Spike sent another one of his charming smiles her way which she returned.

“Thank you. I think I’ll do just that.” Turning towards Billy she cocked her head to the side. “So, Billy, harassed any girls already today?” Spike moved to stand between the two of them before Billy could do anything.

“Don’t you think that takes it a bit too far?”, he asked her.

“No, I don’t actually. He cornered me and wouldn’t let me go until you guys came around. That’s not alright, so no, I’m not taking it too far. I was lucky he was actually your friend and not a random person. Who knows what would’ve happened otherwise!”, she argued. Her voice remained calm, but her eyes gave away the storm of feelings inside of her. Spike looked taken aback, so was Billy. They hadn’t thought of it that way.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing she ever heard Billy say without any menace lacing his words. Their eyes met for a moment before he looked away again and went back to being quiet.

Spike looked from one to the other, wondering if there would be any more or if she had made her point and that’s it. She didn’t say anything either. Rather she opted to lean against the wall they had been standing next to. Spike followed her move to stand next to her.

“So,” broke Mary-Belle the silence, “what have you guys been up to?” Spike and Billy shared a glance, their uncertainty about what to say evident on their faces. “Leo has told me all about the monsters, so don’t worry about that.”

“He has?”, blurted Billy.

“He has,” she confirmed. The boys shared a look, the meaning of which remained unknown to Mary-Belle, but the moment was over quickly and Spike turned towards her. Billy went back to watching the people who passed, seemingly uninterested in the conversation.

“Just boring things, really. Nothing you have to concern yourself with. But we barely know anything about you. Why don’t you tell us something?”

“There is not much to know, to be honest. I’ve lived a fairly easy life, everything dictated by my parents, much like it had been for Leo, but I always had a roof over my head and a warm bed. Whenever we were together, I felt free, like I could just be myself without having to behave the way everyone expected of me.” She stopped talking quickly, thinking back over her words and let out a chuckle. “That was probably not something one should share in their first conversation with someone. Anyways, my favorite colour is blue.”

“Oh, that’s Billy’s favourite colour as well!” Mary-Belle let out a relieved breath that Spike chose not to focus on the first part but kept the topic of conversation light. Her eyes met Billy’s for a second before he looked away again, ignoring Spike who had grabbed his shoulder. “Mine’s orange. You know, when the sun’s almost down but still colours the water. That orange.”

“I don’t even remember the last time I saw that, but it sounds nice,” she admitted. She probably had never seen that, having been held in carriages if they were out at that time. They barely went near the water either. Most of her travel was between her home and the castle.

Billy opened his mouth to add something to the conversation, but stopped himself when someone called out to Mary-Belle. Leo made his way over and asked to speak to her alone for a moment. “Thank you for keeping me company,” she said to the two boys, “both of you.” Her gaze went from Spike to Billy. Then she walked a few steps with Leo until they were out of earshot.

“Daimler found me,” he came right to the point.

“What? Then why are you here now? And not on your way back to the castle?” She tried to keep her voice calm, but failed as it was slightly raised.

“Mother wasn’t informed of me running away. He would lose his job if she knew he let me, so he won’t bother me again.”

“Are you sure? He’s smart, whether you like it or not. He will probably come up with another way to get you to come back. He knows where you are now.”

“He won’t be a problem. I know it.”

“If you say so.” She wasn’t convinced of it.

“I actually have to go now,” he noted. Over her shoulder he could see that Bea and Jessie had joined Spike and Billy and were now just waiting for him. “We will talk soon, I promise,” he adds at the hurt look that flashed across her face. She nodded and watched him go with the others.

Spike turned and waved at her as they were leaving. She raised her hand and gave him a wave as well. A small smile had made its way back onto her face. Another pair of eyes watched her before his focus was taken by Spike prodding him with his elbow.  “Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart, Billy!”

Early the next day Mary-Belle heard word that Prince Leopold was to entertain his cousin Helena with a possible marriage in the future. Her mother had mentioned all that off-handedly during breakfast, making Mary-Belle choke on her tea. “I shall meet with him afterwards.”

“I’d assume they already count on you showing up on a day like this. Just be safe, your father had mentioned rising disturbances in the streets.”

“Of course, mother. I will be on my way shortly, then.”

Now she was walking the grounds, having been too late to show Leopold off to his meeting or talk to him about what had transpired the day before and too early since he was still having tea with Helena. Her mind was racing with thoughts about what might have happened, whether Leopold had come back willingly which she doubted but it was an option. Or maybe her worries had been legitimate and Daimler had found a way.

She got distracted by a commotion ahead of her. Palace guards stormed over to a person who had seemed to have jumped the wall. She neared cautiously which turned into confident steps when she identified the person being escorted off the grounds as Spike. She held herself high to convey as much authority as possible. “Let him go!”, she ordered, her voice not giving away the nervousness she was feeling as she stood up to the guards.

“But Lady-“, one of the guards who seemed to be in charge of the rest tried to argue.

“I said to let him go. He will come with me.” The guards who held onto Spike looked from her to their superior who nodded after a moment of consideration. They reluctantly let go of Spike who dusted off his jacket and reorganized his clothes. “And now you should go back to your posts.”

“Yes, Lady Mary-Belle!” They left, but not without wary side glances at Spike whom she turned to next.

“And you, follow me!” She started walking towards the castle. Spike easily fell into step next to her.

“That was amazing! I didn’t know you had it in you to have palace guards tremble in their knees. Thank you!” He looked back over his shoulder to watch the retreating guards.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’d rather you tell me what happened yesterday that Leo is back now.” Her brain seemed to just now catch up with her actions and the fact that Spike had tried to actually break into the Buckingham Palace. “And how you knew to come here! And why you did it. You just risked imprisonment or even a death sentence! Do you realize that? A lot of bad things could have happened, hadn’t I shown up.”

“Yes, but this is important! I had to come here and get Leo. He needs to come back with me.”

“Why? What happened?” She stopped next to the door she had used to enter the gardens. Her hand was already on the handle before she put it down again. This conversation was better to be had out of earshot of nosy palace personnel.

“Didn’t he tell you?”

She shook her head no. “I didn’t get the chance to speak with him yet.”

“Some guy told Bea who Leo is. He was in the cellar when we came back yesterday. She threw Leo out after. But we need him for what’s to come. She doesn’t know I’m here, but I know it’s what needs to be done.”

“I understand. Alright, come with me. He’s doing something right now, but I will make sure he speaks with you.” She led him through the palace halls, ignoring the hushed whispers of the people they passed at the sight of him. “Why did you come alone?”

Spike hesitated. “Bea doesn’t want to see him and I don’t know where Jessie is. Her and Bea had a fight.”

“What about Billy?”

He hesitated again. “He was imprisoned because he accidentally killed Vic Collins,” he admitted.

Mary-Belle stopped abruptly. Spike almost walked into her but caught himself before he did. When she turned towards him her eyes were widened in shock. “He did what? Wait- how… wha- how do you kill someone accidentally? And who is Vic Collins?”

Spike started to feel uncomfortable under her intense gaze and with the questions. He looked around before leaning in and whispering, “Can we talk about this somewhere else?” She realized they were out in the open, easy for anyone to listen in to their conversation.

“You’re right.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the next room. A quick look around told her that they were alone, so she put her attention back on Spike. “Explain!”

“Well… don’t you want to sit down?”, he asked gesturing towards the chairs standing in the middle of the room.

“No, I don’t want to fucking sit down, Spike! Tell me what happened!” Her voice came out louder than intended. She tried to compose herself again with a few deep breaths but couldn’t help the anxious thoughts of all the possible things Spike might tell her now. Even though she hadn’t been particularly friendly with Billy, she never would have thought him a killer.

“Vic Collins was the master of the workhouse Billy and the girls were at. I don’t know everything that happened to them there but it wasn’t pretty. Billy saw him the other day and then last night… I don’t know exactly what happened but he told me it was an accident. Billy hit Vic. His head hit a pile of bricks and that was it. But Vic was one of them, so even if this was an accident…” He didn’t like speaking those next words. Luckily, he didn’t have to because Mary-Belle understood him anyways.

She knew how important these people were for Leo, so she made a decision rather quickly. “Where is he being held?” Spike told her. “I will take care of it,” she promised. “Leo will get out of his meeting shortly. Until then, I will leave you in good hands.” She once again led him out of the room. He was too perplexed to say much more. She was different than what he had imagined, doing that for a person she barely knew. Billy would be surprised, he thought.

She opened the door to the room she knew Louise would be occupying. She introduced Spike to her who was already charming his way into her heart when Mary-Belle left. On her way out, he called after her to meet them at Baker Street 221B, whether she succeeded or not.

Her first stop was her father’s office. The door was adorned with a plaque announcing the name of the person within. She entered after a voice from inside told her to come in. Her father was not a scary person. He might look the way with his stern gaze and his broad-shouldered physique and if Mary-Belle didn’t know him she would certainly be intimidated by him, but the person in front of her was her father who had never shown her anything but kindness.

“Mary-Belle, what a nice surprise!” His features softened as he recognized his daughter. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be at the palace.”

“I was.” She neared the desk her father was sitting behind. It was a big one, elegant, dark, something conveying his status. “I need your help, Father.”

“What is it, Mary-Belle? Come, sit!” He came around the table and led her to sit in one of the comfortable chairs he had standing by the wall. He took a seat next to her, taking in her troubled expression. “What can I help you with?”

“There is this boy…”, she started, but was interrupted.

“Are you in love, darling?”

“No, no, that’s not it.” She had to laugh a little at the absurdity of the thought. “He is a friend of mine, but something happened. He… There was an incident. He defended himself, but while doing so the other man… he- he died. And now my friend is going to get a death sentence because he is poor and the man he killed was a master at the workhouse. But he is not at fault, Father! It was in self-defense! He does not deserve this, so I need to get him out. Please, Father, will you help me?”

Her father hummed understandingly. “That is quite the situation your friend has gotten himself into. But I might be of help. If he is important to you, he is important to me.”

“Oh, thank you, Father!” She couldn’t hold back the smile as she threw her arms around him. When she let go of him, he walked over to his desk and pulled a piece of paper out of one of the drawers. She watched as he wrote something down on it, put it in an envelope and sealed it. He did the same thing a second time, putting names on both envelopes.

“Now I need you to do something. I do not have the time to do it myself, so I’m leaving this task to you.” She nodded, already reaching out for the envelope her father held towards her. “Bring this to Governor Jameson. If he does as it says in the letter, he will give you one as well. Then this one,” he handed her the second envelope, “you bring to the Chief of Police. As well as the one you will get from Governor Jameson. It will probably not be enough, so,” he opened another drawer. Two little sacks were put onto the desk, the content clinging as they were moved, “here is some money. He may not let him out just by the words of some important people, but I know the man. He is as greedy as they come. Give him this. Save some coins to give to the ones working where your friend is being held. I can’t do any more than this, but I hope it is enough.”

“Thank you so much, Father!” She grabbed the coin bags and put them into the pockets of her skirt before she turned to leave.

“I hope you can get him out, darling. And take care!”

“Of course! I will see you tonight!” She held onto the letters as tight as she could without damaging them as she ran through the streets of London. Governor Jameson’s office was not far but the streets were rowdy. She let out a sigh of relief when she entered the house.

The governor wouldn’t speak with her right away. She was told he was in an important meeting, so she waited in the hall. Every now and then someone passed her but they usually didn’t pay attention to her. As she waited, she thought about what was happening at the palace right now, if Spike already had the chance to speak to Leopold and what he had said. Maybe he went with him. She hoped he did. From what Spike told her they needed him. He had become a part of their group. And now she had to work on getting the last member of that group back.

Now that she had time to think, the pressure she was under sank in. She was responsible for getting Billy out of jail and through that saving his life. If she failed, what other options would he have? Would it be over for him then? She didn’t like to think about that outcome. This needed to work. If not, she wouldn’t know what to do anymore.

A young man came towards her. “Governor Jameson will see you now, Miss.” He showed her the way, knocked and opened the door for her to enter.

“Ah, Lady Mary-Belle. How is your father? I would believe he has much to do with the way people seem to be acting at the moment.” The man behind the desk had a round face. He usually tried to hide his receding hairline with a hat which was now hanging from the hat stand next to the door. He invited her farther into the room before he asked what he could do for her.

“My father sent me. He gave me this letter for you,” she explained and held the envelope out to him. He took it with a smile that couldn’t quite hide his surprised expression. It was unusual for anyone to send their daughters for business purposes. He opened the envelope, intently reading the letter inside, nodding along as he read. “I see,” he muttered when he put it down. “That’s quite the dilemma. I will support this, but tell your father he owes me.” He picked up a pen and pulled a piece of paper from a drawer.

“Of course! Thank you, sir!” He quickly scribbled some lines down before he sealed the letter into an envelope. “I believe you have somewhere else to go now, so I won’t keep you any longer, but remember that this won’t come without a price.”

“Yes, thank you again, sir. I will be on my way then.” She took the envelope from him. Now that she had the letters whose content she was unfamiliar with she felt like half the work was done already, but she was unsure of how the conversation with the Chief of Police would go. He might be the biggest obstacle in her way.

Even getting an opportunity to speak with the Chief of Police turned out to be quite the deed. The whole building was bustling with people running around. There were shouts and clamoring. Everyone was restless. She tried to go about it as usual, walking up to the reception and waiting for someone to offer their help. But even behind the reception desk there was no one who spared her a second glance as they went about their business, frantically looking for things and calling people’s names. She stood there for what felt like forever just watching them ignore her. The door kept being opened and closed, the slam filling the air each time it fell shut. And each time it did, Mary-Belle jumped a little. When the loud noise of the door closing sounded again, she decided she would not wait around any longer. Since nobody paid attention to her anyways at the moment, she used it to her advantage and tried to find her way through the hallways to the one person she needed to speak with.

She never thought it would be this easy to get inside the Headquarters without being stopped, but there she was reading the signs by the doors that would tell her which room she had to enter. She blamed it on the current situation with all that negative supernatural energy or whatever it was in the air. It might’ve helped to ask more about that, but now it was too late. The thumping footsteps came and went, but they never stopped next to her.

When she finally found the right room, she was out of breath. The building was larger than it looked like from the outside. But she was also incredibly nervous. Now was the moment that would decide Billy’s future. She fumbled for the two letters in the pockets of her skirt. The paper got scrunched a little by how tightly she held onto it. This was it. This was possibly the only chance.

She knocked. She wanted to knock with force, letting the Chief know that she was no person easily intimidated, but it was a faint, polite knock. A knock in the way her mother had taught her. Still, it was heard, even over the commotion happening all around and she was asked to enter.

The midday sun illuminated the room, its rays finding their way through the big windows behind the desk the Chief was sitting behind. He watched intently as she entered, curious as to what a young girl was doing there at a time like this. “Please, sit down. What may I help you with, miss?”

She did as she was told, sitting down in one of the two chairs facing the desk. It was uncomfortable, not meant to be sat on for a long time and Mary-Belle felt utterly unwelcome even though the Chief of Police gave her a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes though which were accentuated by the dark bags under them. She once again made use of the mask of confidence she put on at the palace. “Hello, sir. My name is Mary-Belle Heavensforth, daughter of Lord Aaron Heavensforth. I come to you regarding the case of a young man who is now in confinement. I may answer any question you have, but first, you should read these letters.” She handed them over, surprised at the fact that her hand was not shaking.

He broke the seal of the first letter quickly, scanning over the lines before he turned his attention to the second letter. He held one in each hand, his gaze darting from one to other, humming in acknowledgement. The content of the letters was unknown to Mary-Belle, so she had to assume her father only gave information he had known from her. He might have left out some details – the letter wasn’t long enough to have the whole story and the plea – so it was on her to fill in any information he might still need and to do anything it would take to get Billy out. “I see,” he said before he looked over the brim of the papers at her. “So, you believe this boy to be innocent.” She nodded. “Explain to me then what transpired and why you think we should let him go.” So, she gave him the story that Spike had told her, about the master at the workhouse, his history with Billy and his friends and what had happened the night Vic Collins died. “And were you there that night? Did you see it with your own eyes?”

She faltered. What was the best way to go about this? “I was not.” She chose to stick with the truth. “But,” she followed up, “I do know this boy. He would not consort to this kind of violence if he weren’t defending himself or the people he loved. And he would never kill someone with intent. In front of you, you have the testimonies of two highly educated and sophisticated men with power. They speak out for his release and vouch for him.” At least she hoped that this was what was written on those pages her father had sent with her. “I vouch for him as well even though my word might not mean much to you. I will see to it that such thing will not happen again and that you may not hear of him badly anymore.”

“It does say here that your father will see to it that the boy may be put under his supervision. I do believe that your father is a man of his word. I have not been proven to think any less of him yet.” The Chief put one of the letters down to scratch his beard in thought. “But I can’t just write you a release form for this boy out of nowhere.”

“My father had guessed you might say something like that, so he gave me this for you.” She reached into her pockets once again and pulled out one coin bag. She sat it on top of his desk, making sure the coins made a sound as she dumped it on top of his papers. He snatched it up immediately, opening it to look inside at the shiny coins.

“That is indeed a compelling argument,” he pondered. He weighed the bag in his hand eyeing the coins with great interest. “Alright, I will write a release form for this boy, but do have your father contact me again in a few days. I need to speak with him.”

“Of course.” She could barely suppress her smile. She did it! She actually did it! Billy would get out and not die by judge’s rule. She looked on as the Chief shouted for someone. The door swung open revealing a rather young-looking man. His hair was disheveled and he seemed to be just as busy as everyone else in the building.

“Please, show this young lady to our front area,” he addressed the man. Mary-Belle felt panic rush in. If he had just betrayed her, taken the money and the letters, she would have lost. She would have fought for Billy’s life without success and would have to leave him to his destiny. As much as she had thought about it, there was no other way. She would be back on the streets with no trumps up her sleeve and the impending death of a boy weighing down her heart. But, the Chief turned back towards her as she lifted herself off the chair. “I will have the letter brought to you shortly. Just wait down there and that boy will be free as soon as you get the letter to the according office. That is, if your father follows up with his promise that the boy will be put under his care. He will be responsible for the boy’s actions, so he better behave or it will be over with your father’s good standing.”

She recognized his words as they were. A threat. As easily as he could get Billy out of prison now, he could put him back and take her father down right beside him. “Yes, Sir!”

She had to wait in that front area for way too long. People passed. She watched the same people that would enter the building leave it again. A cycle that seemed to find no end and still no release letter in sight. The doubt crept in slowly again. He could just take the money and act like nothing ever happened. She would have nothing against him. And who would believe her? She had no such standing as he did. She was already thinking about how to break the news to Leo and Spike and their other friends. She wasn’t even able to do that. She was quite useless apparently. And replaceable. Leopold had shown it clearly. Each time it seemed so easy for him to leave her and just run off to his new friends and go on adventures with them. Compared to them she had nothing to offer, except for her love but even that he didn’t want.

When the letter finally arrived, given to her by the same man who had led her out of the office, she just took it without another word and left. He would probably not care enough to take the story of her rude behavior back to his superior. She had somewhere to be now and she didn’t care about other people’s opinions at the moment. She felt troubled enough, torn between her love for Leopold and the selfish wish of having him back at the palace with her, away from his new friends and the fact that they were nice people who did nothing wrong. They offered Leopold some form of family, something he couldn’t find at the palace. Something she apparently couldn’t compare to. And now one of them had his life on the line. No matter how she felt towards them she could not just let someone die who didn’t deserve it while knowing she could do something about it. And apparently, she could. Or rather her father could. For the first time ever, she realized how far connections and money could get someone. It opened doors and gave you leverage. She had always been amazed by her father. Now even more so. Even though she didn’t spend that much time with him, she’d always admired him, his hard work and how far it had gotten him.

The scene outside had changed since she had entered the building. Where before the streets seemed quite deserted and eerily quiet, there was now clamoring coming from every corner, frightened screams, angry yells, shocked cries. She dared a quick glance down the first alley she passed on her way to where Billy was held. Two men were rolling in the dirt, their shirts already speckled with blood that dripped from their respective faces. Dirt covered all their clothes as they held onto each other, throwing punches mindlessly. As long as they made contact, they seemed satisfied. She hurried to get away from there and stayed away from small alleys the rest of the way.

She was stopped right after entering the building. An arm shot out, followed by a body that moved in front of her. The burly man sneered at her. “This is no place for a little girl like you.”

She brushed over the comment, choosing to stay professional. “I am here on business,” she announced, handing over the letter from the Chief of Police. “I am to get a boy you are holding here.” He snatched the letter from her hand. He took a quick glance over the written words before he let out a groan. “Fine. Jackson,” he screamed into the room he had previously come out of, “get that orphan kid from the cell. We’re letting him go.” He didn’t seem pleased about it as he looked back at her. “You should be careful. He’s dangerous.”

“I am aware,” she answered nonchalantly before she pulled the second coin bag out of her pocket and put it into the hands of the officer. “For your troubles.” She smiled politely. His eyes narrowed onto the bag, intrigued by the weight in his hand. His demeanor changed drastically in a split second.

“Of course. It is our duty to be here for the people of London. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get back to work, but you will be brought to the boy shortly.” Mary-Belle refrained from rolling her eyes, but gave him a polite smile and nod instead. At least until his back was turned towards her. She doubted he would work now. He will probably go to sit down in private and count the coins in the bag.

Another man appeared in the door. “Please, follow me. He is being held in the back.” The smile on this man’s face seemed way more genuine than the old man’s. He couldn’t be more than a few years older than her. He led her down the narrow hall and down some stairs into a gloomy basement that held the cell. It was packed to the brim with all different kinds of people. She couldn’t find Billy at first glance, the many bodies obstructing her view. The man, Jackson, walked over to the guard by the door telling him what was about to happen. His eyes wandered over to her figure shortly before looking back at Jackson and narrowing his eyes. It took him some more talking to before he turned around and focused his gaze on someone. “You, orphan boy,” he called out catching the blonde’s attention, “you’re free to go.” The barred door rattled as it was pushed open. The surprise on Billy’s face was obvious as he stepped out of the cell. “You have that lady over to thank.” The guard gestured over to you.

A look of confusion washed over Billy’s face as he saw Mary-Belle standing at the bottom of the stairs. He never expected to see her there, especially not to get him out of jail. He was too shocked to say anything as he neared her. Mary-Belle quickly grew tired of his non-reaction. She grabbed his wrist and led him out of the shabby cellar and out onto the street where the people were still clamoring and screaming at each other. A different picture than what she was used to seeing in the streets of London.

Billy got ahold of himself quickly after they made it outside. The fresh air helped him focus his thoughts. As soon as they got to the street, he jerked his hand out of her hold, making her turn to look at him expectantly, eyebrows raised and hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”, he asked, still in that tone like he hated her guts and was spitting accusations.

“You know, you should be nicer to the person who got you out of a trial that would most definitely have ended in your death.” That shut him up, at least momentarily, but he also did not deem it necessary to thank her. He glared at her for another moment before he left her standing there. She watched after him in bewilderment at his audacity. But Billy rethought his decision when he saw at least five people in a fistfight happening over a dead body. It was already worse than he had thought. He walked back over to her, grabbed her wrist like she had his before and dragged her along with him, past the fighting people.

“We are supposed to meet Spike at Baker Street 221B,” she told him after they had walked in silence for a minute. Billy wondered shortly how she came to know this, what happened while he had been in that cell that now this girl he barely knew got him out of his certain doom, but he kept quiet and led her to Baker Street 221B.

They were the last to arrive. The whole group was already present. Bea and Spike were happy to see Billy out as a free man and greeted him happily, enclosing him in hugs. They thanked Mary-Belle for her help before they turned their attention back to him. When the three of them and Leo moved to the other room, she didn’t know whether to follow them or leave. Eventually, she took some steps to follow them but stopped in the doorway. There, in the room, a dark-haired girl was lying unconsciously on the sofa with the others gathered around her. It seemed an intimate situation that she didn’t want to intrude on, so she made the decision to leave them now. She had done her part and was not needed anymore.

A tall man walked towards the room the teenagers were gathered in when Mary-Belle was about to open the door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her. His gaze followed her arm to the door handle. “You shouldn’t go out there now,” he advised. Joyful sounds came from the adjacent room. The girl must have woken up. “Come with me,” he ordered and so, she followed him back to the room.

The girl that had been previously unconscious was sitting upright on the sofa now and told this man about a place they needed to go to. He nodded sternly and told the boys to follow him, leaving Mary-Belle alone with the two girls. She felt entirely out of place and didn’t know what to say or do. She couldn’t even look at them, so she walked over to the window and looked outside while the other two were speaking in hushed voices among themselves.

Outside was a mess, people running around, swinging weapons of all sorts, handmade, bought or just using whatever was available to hurt others. Just outside the window she was looking on as a man bashed in the skull of another, his teeth fletched. He even seemed to be growling at the man who was lying at his feet, blood flowing out of his fatal wound, coloring the sidewalk a dark red. Mary-Belle covered her mouth with a shaky hand at the barbaric act that had occurred in front of her eyes. And when the man looked up, his crazy eyes staring right into hers she let out a gasp and took a step back. She had seen pure rage in his eyes, no clear thoughts, just the urge to hurt and kill.

Her eyes were still fixed on the curtain. It had fallen back into place but she still had the image of the open skull and the look in the man’s eyes on her mind as if she was still staring at it. A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her away. Her gaze travelled to the person who sat her down on a chair far away from the window. She was still shaking. It was Billy whose place was quickly taken by Leo. He had looked out the window to see what had left you in this state. The crazy man was gone, but the body was still lying there on the sidewalk. Leo kneeled down by her side. His hand rested on her knee as he talked to her reassuringly. Her breathing calmed after a short while as the others looked on. She found words to answer Leo’s worried questions in a quiet voice.

As it was clear that she would be fine the other’s attention shifted. Beatrice and Jessie shared a look that had a clear meaning. They had to go. Now. Beatrice announced it to the group that immediately moved to the entrance. Bea stayed back a moment longer with Leo and Mary-Belle. “She’s coming with us!”, Leo insisted, looking up at Bea from his kneeling position.

The girl did not have the time to argue with him right now. They were in a hurry, so she agreed. “As long as she doesn’t get in the way.

“I won’t,” Mary-Belle promised and stood up to join the rest of the group.

When they left the building, warned by Watson to stay together, she threw a glance in the direction of the window she had been standing in. The body looked different now. Pieces of the skull and brain were scattered around it. Bile rose up in her throat, but she forced herself to look away and keep moving. She promised not to be in the way and so she wouldn’t. And she wouldn’t slow them down either. She hiked up her skirt – which was a very inconvenient choice of clothing for the occasion – and hurried after the others.

She was filled in about the whole situation by Leo on the way. To say she was shocked would be an understatement. “I thought you said you’d be safe!”, she exclaimed in frustration and anger. “That is not ‘being safe’! It’s like the opposite of safe. We are literally running towards the danger!”

“The danger is all around us!”, he retaliated. “We have to stop this! We’re the only ones that can because we know what is happening.”

They came to a stop in front of the entrance to Aldgate Station. Watson tried to open the door, unsuccessfully. It was jammed. It only took him a moment to come up with a different plan. He showed them another entrance, through the sewers. All of them stood around the hole looking down into the dark. Even though it was the only way to get to the Linen Man and Sherlock, a shudder crept down Mary-Belle’s spine at the thought of going down there.

Billy nudged Spike to tell him to go first, but he refused. There was another moment where none of them moved a muscle but then Mary-Belle heard distant noises which made her overcome her fears for a moment and announced, “Then I’ll go first!” She quickly climbed down before she could change her mind again but the growling and yelps coming from up there just helped to reassure her in her decision. Her skirt tore on the way down. She didn’t complain though as it gave her more freedom to move although it was a bad day to have worn one of her favorite dresses.

Surprisingly, the sewers were lit well enough to see without any additional gadgets. It only took Mary-Belle a moment to get used to the dim lighting. By the time she was able to see completely fine, the others have found their way down. Watson instructed them to stay together and to be quiet. It would be over for them if the Linen Man knew they were there. In moments like this Mary-Belle regretted tagging along. She was pretty certain she would die today. How could a bunch of teenagers save the world? Especially from some supernatural Rip that’s threatening to absorb this world? She still didn’t quite get what was actually happening. It was all a bit hard to wrap her mind around.

She kept close to Watson while moving through the tunnel. Sticking close to the only adult seemed like the most reasonable decision. He gave the impression he knew what he was doing which made her feel a little safer.

Nobody noticed the moment Beatrice stopped moving with them. Only when she cried out in agony they realized and quickly rushed back to her. Panic washed over Mary-Belle as she remembered the words Watson said about what would happen if the Linen Man found out they were there. Watson covered her mouth to stop her screams, hoping against all hope that the Linen Man and Sherlock hadn’t heard them yet and thus knew that they were close.

They started moving again after Beatrice had calmed down. It hadn’t taken long but time was precious now. With every second passing the world was closer to its end. Mary-Belle still remained close to Watson while she kept stealing glances at Beatrice to gather whether she would be alright. Every single sound had her on edge.

That the boys were not behind them anymore was suddenly realized when they started crying out. Beatrice did as well, clutching her head and sinking towards the ground. Tears were streaming over her face and she mumbled, “No, no, don’t go! Mum! Mum!” Mary-Belle tore her gaze away from Beatrice when gunshots were fired right next to her. The loud sound left her ear ringing. She only saw a flash of white before it was gone, scared away by Watson’s gun. Jessica ran after it and left them to deal with Beatrice who would not calm down.

The boys’ cries could still be heard as well, Leo’s standing out to Mary-Belle the most. She couldn’t bear hearing that and doing nothing, so she ran towards him. Watson shouted her name after her, telling her to not walk off alone, but she didn’t listen. If he didn’t have to take care of Beatrice, he would’ve gotten up to stop her, but he couldn’t leave the crying girl on the ground alone there.

Mary-Belle ran back down the path they had taken, following his outcries, she quickly found Leopold. He was sitting on the ground, knees pulled up to his chest and his head between his hands. He screams and cries out. Each cry tore more at her chest. He removed his hands from his ears to stare at them as if he could see something on them that she didn’t. She dropped down next to him and tried to talk him out of it like he did with her back at Baker Street, but she couldn’t get through to him, so she just sat there, quiet tears rolling down her face at seeing the boy she loved in this state.

And then it stopped. From one moment to the next, his screams quieted down. He looked up from the ground and towards her in confusion, not grasping what had just happened. Relief flooded her system as she threw her arms around him. It took a moment, but then he returned the hug, desperately holding on to her.

Billy’s voice called out to Leo prompting them to let go off each other. He appeared in front of them seconds after and helped Leo off the ground who in turn helped Mary-Belle. His movements were still slow and staggered like he didn’t quite have a grasp on reality. Billy then called out to Spike who called back immediately. The three of them moved towards where his voice was coming from, finding him on the ground as well. He was already back on his feet when they came to a stop by his side. They made sure he was unharmed, physically at least, before continuing on the way they had gone before this happened, hoping to reunite with Beatrice, Watson and Jessica.

When Beatrice and Watson were already in sight, just down the tunnel, the earth began to rumble, debris falling down, dust collecting on their heads and clothes. Leopold pulled Mary-Belle back before the ceiling of the tunnel collapsed in front of them, separating them from Beatrice and Watson.

When most of the dust settled and she could see clearly again she saw Billy lying on the ground. His leg was pinned under two big stoned and he knew that it was wrecked. “Billy! Leo!”, Beatrice shouted from the other side of the rubble as Leo and Spike helped Billy up. He couldn’t put weight on the leg without crying out in pain, so Spike supported him. They let Beatrice know that his leg was probably broken.

A short argument broke out since Beatrice wanted them to go back to the cellar but Billy refused to leave them. “Be reasonable, Billy,” Mary-Belle chimed in. “The tunnels aren’t safe and you wouldn’t be of much help anyway with your leg. You should rest before it will get even worse,” she argued.

Billy was about to retort when Beatrice spoke up again. “Listen to her, Billy!” She sounded desperate. “And promise me… Promise me that you’ll keep each other safe.” Silence overcame them for a moment as they thought about what they were going to do before Spike agreed and gave her the promise. Leo followed suit. For Billy to agree it took some more demands from Beatrice. Her voice still sounded strong despite her desperation and in that moment Mary-Belle realized what Leopold saw in her. “Mary-Belle?” Beatrice called out to her as well, this time a bit calmer. “Will you promise me, too?” She was surprised that Beatrice wanted her to give the promise as well. After all, she was not a part of their group.

“Of course,” she replied nonetheless, never having thought of doing anything other. “I promise.” With those promises made they went on their way, Leopold going to Billy’s other side to support him as well. Mary-Belle walked behind them. Still feeling uneasy, she kept throwing glances over her shoulder like something would appear there at any moment. Thankfully, it didn’t and they made it out of the sewers without any more incidents.

“Mary-Belle, here, take over!”, Spike instructed you, so that he could move in front of them to protect them. She took his place at Billy’s side. He slung his arm over her shoulder begrudgingly. He didn’t have much of a choice now about who would help him move. He just needed to get home and off the streets, so he would have to get used to the idea of Mary-Belle supporting him on the way.

The streets were ruthless. Never had she seen anything like this. The people had turned crazy. The ones that hadn’t either fell victim to the ones that had or hid out in their homes behind barred doors and windows. Having to basically carry Billy through the streets slowed them down immensely. Each time they came upon someone she tensed but kept moving in the strong believe that when it came to it, Spike would protect them. Most of the time they were ignored though. Maybe they were not interesting enough for those who found liking in eating someone’s intestines. The things Mary-Belle had already seen today were nightmare material for the rest of her life, but she doubted that it would be all. The day wasn’t over yet, the world hadn’t ended yet. There was still time to be traumatized even more.

With each step Billy hissed in pain. He tried his hardest not to scream but some steps were even worse than the ones before and he couldn’t stop the screams that escaped him.

The sight of the ‘Duck and Quiver’ sign was a relief. They had made it. Mary-Belle was out of breath. Her body was hurting from having to haul Billy all the way through the city but she did not dare compare it to the pain he must be feeling. He had to sit down for a moment on the stairs across the street from the pub, groaning and hissing. They had tried to stabilize his leg. It didn’t do much but was probably better than just leaving it without.

“Watson was right,” said Leo, “the city’s turning. With the Rip the way it is every time someone prays for help or wishes, that’s all it takes now.”

“We should’ve stayed and found a way through. We’re useless here,” added Billy.

“You would have been useless there, too,” Mary-Belle remarked, growing tired of his behavior. “I mean, look at you. You can barely stand. What would you have done there? Going back was the best option whether you choose to believe it or not.”

“You-“ Billy’s answer was cut short as what looked like blue lightning soared through the sky. It rumbled, crackled and sissed as it came down from the sky and connected with the building that held the pub. Blue lines danced along the walls as the magic – there was no other way Mary-Belle could describe it – made its way into the building.

“Jessie still hasn’t closed the Rip,” observed Leo. “It’s nearly over. It could be too late now.”

Spike rushed them to get moving again, so that they could find shelter in the cellar and hope for the best. Mary-Belle moved back to Billy’s side and helped him get up as Leo took his other side. They stopped again shortly after as terrified screams came towards them and a bunch of people came running from behind the corner, a weapon-swinging attacker after them. They tried to stop him as he had a nun cornered against her door but without any luck.

Spike didn’t hesitate as he lunged forward and knocked him out with his rifle. The man fell to the ground having lost his consciousness. Spike was rather excited about the fact that he succeeded in taking him down. “I rifled him! I rifled him!”, he announced in disbelief. Leo, Billy and Mary-Belle moved over to him as he helped up the nun who had been cowering on the ground. She told them how the man came after them in the church. She was desperate as she told them that they had nowhere to go. Billy immediately offered that they could come with them and so, they made their way to the cellar together.

Mary-Belle let out a sigh of relief when Spike closed the door behind them and barred it. With walls surrounding them she felt a lot safer than out on the street. They set Billy down on a chair. Without him weighing down on her she stood up straight again and rolled her shoulders to get at least some of the tension out. It barely worked. The stress and anxiety just made her more tense. No rolling her shoulders would help with that.

Sister Anna, as Mary-Belle had found out the nun was called, moved to the back of the cellar with the other two they had taken in while Billy, Spike, Leo and Mary-Belle stayed more in the front. She went to stand with Leo. “How are you feeling?”, she asked.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. That was close back there. You do realize you were almost crushed back then, don’t you?” His gaze was fixed on her, worry in his eyes.

“Don’t turn this on me now,” she scolded. “I asked how you were doing. I am fine, thanks to you, but the Linen Man got into your mind. What did you see? Do you want to talk about it?”

“I- There was blood, so much blood. I-I don’t know. I thought I was about to die.” His eyes glazed over as he thought back on the visions he had. “I was all alone and I thought I was dying.” He didn’t say anything else, stuck on that feeling. Mary-Belle wrapped him into another hug bringing him back into the moment. “Thank you!” He smiled at her softly before his gaze moved over to Billy who was breathing heavily from the extortion that getting to the cellar had been for him. “How did you get Billy out of jail anyway?” She recalled the story for him, stressing that it wouldn’t have been possible if she had done it without her father’s help. “How did he take the condition that he would be under your father’s supervision?”

“I didn’t tell him yet,” she admitted, avoiding the reproachful look he gave her. “How am I supposed to tell him? I can barely be near him without him hating every moment. That doesn’t really make me enjoy his company either. He hates me. I’m sure of it.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Leo argued. “That’s how he was with me at first as well. Now we’re friends. New people are not really his thing, I guess, especially rich ones.”

“Leo’s right.” Mary-Belle jumped at Spike’s sudden appearance by her side. “It may be hard to believe for you, but Billy is actually quite nice and a good friend. He cares. More than he admits himself sometimes. And I bet he doesn’t hate you. You two just got off on the wrong foot.”

“So, you’re saying…”

“You should talk to him.” Spike and Leopold both rolled their eyes at the groan she let out. They kept looking at her expectantly as she waited to see who would give in first.

“Ugh, fine.” She was the first to break. She turned towards Billy and even got a little shove from Spike to get her to move. She shot a sour glance at him over her shoulder but went to sit down next to Billy. He looked up from what he was doing to focus on her. She couldn’t quite decipher the way he was looking at her. It might be hatred, might be intrigue, might be disgust.

“What are you doing?” He asked after she did not speak up after sitting down.

“I just wanted to sit,” she replied but she could feel Spike and Leo watching her, their gazes boring into her and giving her the motivation to talk a little more. “How are you feeling?”

“Still think we should’ve stayed, should’ve been there for Bea and Jess,” he grumbled.

“Look,” she tried to explain once again, “I told you. With your leg like that, you can barely move. Just getting here already took such a strain on you. If it had come down to it, if we had to get out of there quickly, you would’ve held everyone back. You can’t do much with your leg like that. And if we hadn’t come here, who knows what would’ve happened to Sister Anna. It was the most reasonable decision. I am sure, Beatrice thought the same. Otherwise, she probably wouldn’t have sent you back. She wanted you to stay safe and I bet she won’t let herself get hurt either. You will all be together again.”

He considered her for a moment. “I guess,” he agreed begrudgingly. They sat in silence for another minute or two. Both of them looking anywhere but at each other. “Thank you,” he finally mumbled. At her confused gaze he groaned once more. “For getting me out of the trial, I mean. You’re right. If they had gone through with it, it would have ended with my death sentence, so thank you. I appreciate it.”

“How about we start over?”, she proposed, turning so she could properly face him.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Start over.” She paused for a second before giving him a bright smile and extending her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Mary-Belle.” Throwing all the things she had learned about etiquette out the window she introduced herself with only her first name.

Billy seemed surprised at that. He looked thoughtfully at her outstretched hand before he grasped it. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he pressed her hand gently. “Billy. The pleasure’s all mine.” He laughed a little as he let go of her hand. It brought a genuine smile to her face as she chuckled along. “So,” Billy stated. His gaze was on Leo and Spike who were looking over in a manner that was not very inconspicuous, “do they think I would murder you or is there another reason they are watching us this intently?”

She followed his gaze. The two boys weren’t bothered by the fact that their attention was now on them. “They might. Or they think I would you. We do not have the best history after all.”

“You’re different from what I thought,” Billy admitted which took her by surprise.

“Elaborate.”

“Do I have to?” His eyes found hers again. A teasing smile adorned his lips.

“You do,” she insisted.

“I guess, we met you at a time I was also very suspicious of Leo. For good reason, I might add. He lied to us. I have forgiven him for that, don’t worry,” he added after he saw the look that she gave him before he continued, “But my experiences with nobility hadn’t been very good. I didn’t trust him, so I wouldn’t trust you either. I was rude and I scared you. I’m sorry about that. I thought you’d be just like the others who are well-off, up-tight with a stick up your arse and thinking you are better than everyone else, especially those living like we do. But you are… not like that.” He didn’t explain any further.

“I take that as a compliment, so thank you. You’re not as much of a rowdy as I thought you were.” She squeezed his shoulder as she got up as a way to end the conversation, before she walked over to Leo and Spike.

“He seemed to have taken the news well,” noticed Leo.

She just sighed, hanging her head in shame. “I couldn’t do it. We got along for once and I didn’t want to destroy that right after.”

“You have to tell him at some point.”

“I know. Let’s just survive the night first and then I will tell him. I promise.”

They were shaken out of their conversation when a rattling sounded from the door. Someone was trying to get in. They came together at the bottom of the stairs, ready to defend the cellar. Somehow, Mary-Belle ended up next to Billy who noticed the way she watched the rattling door. Each of them grabbed a weapon. Billy handed her one as well. “Scared?”, he asked.

“Of course. Unlike you apparently, I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“I’m scared, too,” he admitted quietly before chaos reigned down upon them. Surprisingly it didn’t come the way they expected with the door splintering and bloodthirsty people storming in but with the Sister finishing a prayer. They hadn’t been able to stop her from saying that last faithful word. They barely moved fast enough to watch her turn. Her eyes turned black, no light shining in them, no life, no recognition. The dark lines crawling over her skin made her look monstrous, inhuman. But even as her appearance had changed into something not quite human, her voice remained calm as she spoke to the two who were kneeling in front of her and had been praying with her. They too were overcome with the magic of the Rip, not moving away from her, not screaming as she broke their necks.

She then turned her attention to the four of them, calling them heathens as she neared. Her skin was pale, a stark contrast to the dark veins and her black eyes. Mary-Belle was terrified. The feeling only deepening when the bullet Spike shot at her did her no harm. Mary-Belle was pulled back and down some stairs until she moved on her own. Leo supported Billy again as they ran from the cold-hearted monster that had once been a loving person filling people’s hearts with warmth. Spike stopped to reload his rifle. Even if the bullet might not do damage, it might slow her down. But before he was able to target her, she grabbed the rifle out of his hand and threw it to the ground. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt and threw him into a corner. He didn’t move or make a sound, worrying his friends. Mary-Belle could just watch, frozen in place, as Billy attacked the monster. She flinched with every punch and kick he got before he too was thrown across the room. His body slid on the ground until his head bumped against the wall and he fell unconscious.

Her feet were frozen. No matter how much she willed them to move they wouldn’t. She stood there and watched as the monster came towards her. In the corner of her eye she still saw Leo trying to get between her and the monster before she felt her hands on her, felt a dull pain and everything went black.

She came back to when her body was shaken. Slowly opening her eyes while trying to ignore the searing pain behind them she saw Leo towering over her. The worry on his face changed into relief when her eyes found his. She groaned as she sat up, holding her pounding head. Leo helped her up, holding onto her arms tightly. “It’s over!”, he explained. “It’s over! Jessie must have closed the Rip!” She felt great relief as she clung onto Leo.

“Is Spike alright?”, she asked after pulling away from him.

“Am fine, love,” the boy called over having heard her ask the question. Her face lit up as she realized that he was indeed alright. She rushed over and gave him a hug as well, surprising him, but he didn’t complain. Near-death experiences did bring people closer together. Either way, she had always liked the charismatic boy. In her mind they were friends. In his, too. She just didn’t know.

“And you?”, she asked Billy who was sitting down again. The fight could not have been good for his broken leg.

“Not much worse than before,” he answered honestly. Apart from the throbbing in his head, his leg gave him the greatest pain, but it had done that before, too. She nodded at that. They were well and alive and the world wouldn’t end today. She looked around the cellar once more, noticing the absence of the Sister and the bodies. They must have already taken them out while she was unconscious.

“I should probably go, then,” she started, but was stopped by Billy.

“You should at least wait until Bea and Jessie come back and tell us what happened. You deserve to hear the story, too.” The other two boys agreed. It didn’t take much convincing to get her to stay a little longer. They sat in silence, much needed after everything that had happened. It was interrupted after a while by the door opening. Steps made their way down into the cellar. The two girls appeared, covered in dirt with sad looks on their faces that were replaced by happy and relieved ones at the sight of everyone being there.

Mary-Belle watched the way Leopold and Beatrice looked at each other as they got closer and enveloped each other in a hug. It was adoring, loving, in a way Leopold had never looked at her, but she understood now. Understood how she could never compare to Beatrice who was so adventurous and brave. More hugs were exchanged while Mary-Belle just sat there and watched on. There was a short moment Beatrice and her held eye-contact. The black-haired girl nodded at Mary-Belle as a sign of respect and as a thank you for keeping the promise she had made. She couldn’t justify not liking Beatrice anymore after today, but she didn’t know if that made it harder or easier to let go of her feelings for Leo.

She stayed seated as the girls found their own seats and the boys went back to theirs before they started telling what had transpired. Jessie filled them in about her mind battle with the Linen Man and together they told them about their mother who had appeared from the Rip. It was a heart-wrenching story. Mary-Belle’s eyes filled with tears that she didn’t want to let fall in front of the others but the story and the expression on the sisters’ faces made it hard. She admired them even more now. Having to make such a decision wasn’t an easy weight to bear and then having to live with it.

Soon after everyone filled the others in on what they had experienced the groups dispersed. Mary-Belle took that as her cue. There was just one more thing she needed to do before she left them. She walked over to Leo and Beatrice, hesitant to interrupt their conversation but doing it anyways to get it over with. “Excuse me,” she butted in, “Leo, can I talk with you outside for a moment?” His gaze fluttered over to Beatrice who agreed silently before the both of them climbed out of the cellar and onto the street that had already gone back to some sort of normalcy. People were bustling around, going after their business, others were in charge of picking up the dead bodies and cleaning up after them.

They came to stop a short way away from the cellar when Mary-Belle turned to face him. “What are you going to do now, Leo? Are you going to return to the palace? What is your plan?”

“I… would like to stay here. These are my friends and I belong here, not in the palace,” he announced.

She nodded, a sad smile on her face. “I understand, but I’m certain the Queen will have people looking for you when she notices that you are missing. You can’t stay away from your responsibilities forever.”

He let out a desperate sigh. “I know, but… I want to enjoy this time for as long as I can.” She nodded and squeezed his arm briefly before she watched him descend into the cellar again to live this life for a bit longer.

She turned to walk away, home, back to a life so unlike the one Leo chose to live, but she didn’t get very far before she was stopped by a hand hesitantly reaching out to her. Jessica stood there. She quickly retrieved her arm after gaining Mary-Belle’s attention. “We were actually going to get fish and chips later. You, um, you should eat with us. After all, you’ve helped us.”

“I didn’t really do anything actually. I was probably just in the way most of the time, but thank you. You guys should enjoy your evening by yourselves.”

She wanted to walk away again, but Jessica spoke up once more to stop her. “That’s not true! If anything, you got Billy out of jail! The others told me. You didn’t have to do that. You barely know us, but you did! Please, I would really like it if you would eat with us.”

In the end, Jessica had convinced Mary-Belle and when they were all sitting together that evening eating fish and chips she felt content and happy. Looking around at their smiling and laughing faces she could understand how Leo found his family in this group of people.

She caught the expression on Billy’s face when Leo and Beatrice walked past him to get up to the street. It was a sour one, full of jealousy. So, she walked over and sat down next to him. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”, she noticed quietly, following their retreating figures with her eyes until they disappeared outside and closed the door behind them.

Billy’s head whipped around to eye her suspiciously. “What would you know about it?”, he asked.

“Well.” She let out a sigh. “I’m in love with him,” she revealed, “so, I guess we’re in the same boat.” The two of them shared a mutual understanding that the people they loved, loved them too, but not in the same way.

“Should we do something about it, then?”, Billy asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What are you thinking of?”, Mary-Belle asked with a smile, before Billy grabbed her face and pulled her close. His lips hovered over hers for a moment, enough time for her to pull away if she wanted too, and then he kissed her. A gasp sounded which pulled the two apart. As they looked over to the source of the sound, they found Spike staring at them, his hand dramatically on his chest which made them all laugh. Billy threw a chip at Spike to get him to stop with his antics. He had a carefree smile on his face again. Even as he looked over at Mary-Belle, which he used to do with such a dark gaze, it didn’t falter and maybe, she thought, she could find her place here as well.

[first-and-last-neocount]

Whumptober Day 5

Aaaand here we are, second offering in the Escape!AU, though this is... third I think?... if we’re going by internal chronology of what I’ve got so far. I’m not even going to try to track that as we go, though, because of the whole still-adding-more-as-I-go-along thing. I’ll figure that shit out when the AO3 post gets made, lol. 

Have some EVEN MORE FEELINGS realization, friends! And also some sad, because y’know, Whumptober. 

With the rest of Damien’s family being pagan, I also had this headcanon that his relationship with them was pretty well trashed after he joined the Church, and that the Matriarch of Ganji had kind of... honorarily adopted him, and that they were still super close, and that’s why she backed him so firmly against the Patriarch’s bullshit. Having that headcanon, though, made me wonder - what must she have thought, when she heard about certain developmens?

Day 5 - Theme Chosen: Betrayal

Damien eyed the pile of letters with some trepidation. He had only meant to grab a few belongings from his rented room in Jaggonath before abandoning it permanently – the world needed to believe that he and Gerald had perished at Mount Shaitan, so he couldn't exactly tell the landlord that he wasn't coming back, but he'd wanted to pick up a few of the items he'd brought with him across the Dividers before he and Gerald left the city for good. He hadn't expected a pile of letters to be laying on the front hall rug, having clearly accumulated during the journey to Shaitan and back.

Gerald was currently at Alesha Huyding's house, convincing the woman to let them take the rest of Senzei's journals on the Iezu for their own project. They were supposed to meet at Karril's temple in less than an hour; Damien definitely didn't have time to read these all. He scooped the pile off the floor and started flipping through them quickly, discarding the majority of them at a glance. Most of them were notes from his fellow clergy members at the Jaggonath Cathedral, wondering where he'd disappeared to; there were a few unpaid bills from local merchants, and one heavy linen envelope with a golden seal that he knew must be his official notice of excommunication. The sight of it made his chest ache, but it was nothing compared to the shock that ran through him at the last letter.

The envelope from the very bottom of the stack was also fine quality, though it lacked the ostentatious gold seal, instead being tied shut with a red ribbon. Even at a glance, though, Damien recognized the delicate hand that had traced out the address of the Jaggonath Cathedral – it seemed the letter had gone there first, and been redirected to his temporary apartment when the messenger learned that Damien was no longer employed by the Church.

The letter was from the Matriarch of the Cathedral in Ganji-on-the-Cliffs.

Guilt pooled in his chest like icy water, and Damien cursed softly. Stuffing the two Church envelopes in his jacket pocket, he left the rest of the letters on the kitchen table and went to gather what he'd come for in the first place. There would be time enough later to deal with the two he'd kept; neither of them, he suspected, were going to be an easy read.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He ended up putting off looking at the letters for a few days. Between gathering everything they would need to get them to another city, and tying up any loose ends they'd left behind, he actually managed to more or less forget about the envelopes tucked away in his pocket. Gerald had decided that their best bet was to head back northeast, retracing their steps yet again to get some distance from Jaggonath now that they had what they needed from the city; Damien wasn't any more keen on running into any familiar faces than the adept was, and agreed that it was probably the safest plan. Ensuring that they remained anonymous was enough to keep his mind occupied on the road, and it wasn't until they stopped at a dae three nights later that he remembered.

They'd both had their fill of sleeping on the unforgiving ground as winter crept closer again, and when the dae had come into view, they had agreed with only a glance that they could afford the minor risk  of dealing with the residents if it meant getting to sleep in proper beds for a night. Damien negotiated for their rooms while Gerald saw that the horses were stabled comfortably, and they met up in the common room of the dae, at a small table in the corner farthest from the light of the fire. As they sat down, though, Damien made to tuck the room key into his pocket – and his fingers brushed the envelopes still tucked into his jacket.

Either his face had shown his dismay or Gerald had felt it through their link, because the adept turned to look at him immediately, grey eyes narrowed in concern.

“What's wrong?”

“It's nothing urgent, just...” Damien pulled the letters out, feeling dread settle into his gut like a stone. “There were some letters that had been slipped under my apartment door, when I went back to get my things. Most of them weren't important, but I kept these two. I meant to look at them later that day, but – I forgot.”

Gerald's gaze fell on the golden seal of the Cathedral on the top one, and Damien heard his sudden, sharp breath. The former Knight's mouth twisted in a bitter half-smile.

“Yeah, I think we both know what that one is. This one, though...”

He pulled the other envelope out and set it on top, his heart in his throat. Gerald frowned at it, then glanced up at him.

“Who is this one from?”

“The Matriarch. In Ganji,” Damien whispered. “I wrote to her when we were sailing back from the Eastern Continent, telling her everything that had happened. The Master of Lema, what we'd discovered about the rakh, the Undying Prince... you.”

The adept went very still. He was rather like a hunting hawk in that way, a distant part of Damien's mind observed; when they laid eyes on their prey, such birds would freeze, in a manner that could look almost like a prey response itself unless one knew what to look for. In reality, the bird was preparing for the swift, sure, devastating movement of an attack – but the only warning you would get was that unnatural stillness.

“This is her response.” The soft words weren't a question. Damien sighed deeply, rolling his shoulders back in a fruitless attempt to shed some of the tension.

“Yes. And probably more, given that I'm fairly sure the Patriarch wrote to her as well – she likely knows by now that I've been thrown out of the Order, even if she hasn't yet heard about our... tragic demises.” He looked up and forced himself to meet Gerald's gaze steadily, feeling the prickling anticipation through the bond, the chill creeping over his skin. When he spoke, he kept his voice very low, not wanting to speak too loudly even though Gerald had put up a Warding when they sat down that would keep anyone from eavesdropping on them.

“I know you're hungry. Take what you need. This is going to be miserable for me either way.”

Gerald's eyes flashed, but the adept only inclined his head slightly, a silent gratitude. Damien swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat, then reached with shaking hands to untie the ribbon and unfold the letter.

My dear son,

I hope you will forgive my informality. I know that, as the Holy Mother, I ought to have worded this more properly – but at the moment, I care nothing for propriety, so long as I can reach you.

Your letters have given me enough nightmares for a lifetime. This demon that conspires to corrupt our world, Calesta, is all that the Church most dreads; not a passive evil, but an all too active one, darkening the minds of men and swaying them to its nefarious cause. I was horror-struck to learn of the men and women that willingly served it, and what it plans for our world, but those concerns too have paled in comparison to the chill that fell over me when I read what you had written of our fallen Prophet.

Damien. If ever you felt, as I did, that our bond was that of true family – that you were my son in more than the titles that the Church proscribes, that I cared for you as I would have for a child of my flesh – then I beg of you, in the name of that bond... turn aside. I do not need it written out to know that you hope to save Gerald Tarrant, to redeem him from his dark deeds and guide him back into the light of God. I cannot stress enough how much I fear for you if you pursue such a path. There are some choices that a man cannot make without altering who he is forever, and some roads are too dark to retrace one's steps. You cannot save him. God's greatest gift is forgiveness, but a man such as that will not accept it, for to do so he would have to admit that his deeds require forgiveness – to admit that he has become a monster, and repent of what he has done. A man like Gerald Tarrant can never do that.

If you try to save him, I am certain that he will poison you. Slowly, no doubt, and subtly, for to have survived all that he has the Hunter must be a devious creature indeed – but inexorably, and perhaps, irrevocably. I know you, Damien, and your greatest strength is also your greatest weakness; your incredible determination. It has carried you through so much adversity, and it held you to our faith and cause when your family would have dragged you away... but I fear that it will also keep you from recognizing when you are outmatched, and hold you to your resolve to alter his nature, even as his corruption takes hold. If you are focused only on his redemption, you may not see what is happening until it is too late.

Please come home, Damien. I know it goes against everything we preach, but this once, I reach out to you and speak not as the Holy Mother, but simply as a mother. Come home. Let another fight this war; let the Hunter carry this burden alone, if you truly believe he wishes to make amends. We are all of us sworn to give our lives for the Church, but I beg of you, not like this.

Come home.

With all my love and prayers,

Carla

No title. No Holy Mother. Not her regnal name, Aelia II. Just her given name, as a mother might sign a desperate letter to her son.

Damien didn't know when he'd started to cry, but his eyes burned by the time he reached the end; his cheeks were wet, and his chest ached from staying quiet, even as his whole body shook with silent sobs. He dropped the letter on the table and pressed his hands over his face, past caring if his distress was obvious. No one else in the room was going to notice anything with the Obscuring still in place, and it wasn't as if Gerald needed the visual cues to know that he was upset – with the way he felt, in that moment, the grief and guilt had to be flooding out of him like blood from an arterial wound, staining the fae around him black and crimson.

He'd known, since the night he braved Hell itself to bring the Hunter back, that he was turning his back on everything he'd ever cared for. Not merely his faith, intangible as it was, but also his home, his friends, and his family.

Perhaps his parents and brother would not have disowned him for the choices he had made on this quest – but it was years too late for that to matter, after the way they had fallen out when Damien chose to join the Church. The faith of the One God had forced Damien to distance himself from their aggressively pagan lifestyle, and they had seen his choice as a betrayal, a self-righteous attack on their way of life instead of the deeply personal calling Damien had felt it to be. The only thing that had gotten him through that loss and upheaval had been the support of a woman who, at the time, was just another priestess at the Ganji Cathedral. Mother Carla had been his bedrock of support, his sponsor in the seminary and a gentle voice of reassurance whenever Damien felt himself faltering; by the time Damien was Knighted, she had ascended to the Holy Mother's seat as Matriarch Aelia II, and their bond had been unshakable. It had been Carla who recommended Damien for the experimental program teaching young Workers in Jaggonath, who had seen him off with a warm smile and the assertion that she knew he would do well, and that he would return to Ganji-on-the-Cliffs having shaped a whole generation of new minds.

And Damien had betrayed her.

It wasn't what he meant to do, but what did intent matter when measured against the cold facts of the outcome? He had betrayed the faith they held in common by choosing to forgive the Hunter's centuries of crimes; he had betrayed the Church they both served by thwarting Andrys's attempt at vengeance and helping Gerald elude the Crusade; he had betrayed the personal trust she had placed in him by deserting his duty and turning his back on the very principles that he himself had once preached to the Church's young followers. She had sent him east to further the vision of the Church, and instead he had struck it one of the most staggering blows it had suffered in centuries. She had reached out to him in compassion and love, ready to absolve him of every responsibility if he only turned back... but even if the letter had reached him in time, Damien knew in his heart that it still wouldn't have altered his course.

That, surely, was the bitterest betrayal of all – the knowledge that seared through him and left him shaking and cold and sick. That letter hadn't said anything that he hadn't already, on some level, known; he had held all those arguments with himself a thousand times, those long lonely nights on the road to Mount Shaitan. He had recognized the risk that his own stubbornness was blinding him, recognized that his judgement and morals were compromised, recognized that he was nearing the point of no return. Even with all of that, though, when the moment of choice had come – he hadn't even hesitated. He'd seen the murderous rage in Andrys Tarrant's eyes, known that it was the reckoning for all of Gerald's sins, and he'd still stepped in front of the bolt.

He might not have surfaced from that yawning abyss of despair for a long time, if not for the gentle sensation that ran along the link between himself and Gerald. Unlike the assertive, even imperious force that Damien was used to from the Hunter's power, this was softer, almost inquisitive; a coaxing tug, instead of a firm push. He was still too badly shaken to muster any kind of coherent response within his mind, and a moment later, he felt an equally gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Damien.”

With an effort, the former Knight swallowed back the sounds of pain he wouldn't allow himself to make and lifted his head, blinking through tears at his companion. Gerald had shifted his chair and was sitting close by his side now, one hand raised for that steadying grip on his shoulder, and the look on the adept's face took what little breath Damien had regained away; genuine concern, traces of sorrow and guilt – unmistakable compassion, raw and unpractised and honest. A more human expression than the Hunter's face had worn in centuries, one that no one else would even have believed him capable of.

Damien realized, quite suddenly, that his heart was beating so forcefully that it might have been trying to break free of his ribcage.

He heard himself speak, without consciously deciding to do so.

“I wouldn't change it. Even if I knew, if I could go back and do it again, I wouldn't choose any differently.”

Gerald's grip tightened on his shoulder, and for a moment he just held Damien's gaze, silent. Damien could see the thoughts racing behind his quicksilver eyes, and even with the link, he couldn't read them all – but suddenly he knew, with a certainty so firm that it had to be resonating through the link, that someday he would be able to. They'd been operating on the unspoken understanding that Damien would be helping Gerald fulfill his new goal of establishing proper communication with the Mother of the Iezu, and that their work would keep them together for some time yet, but in that moment Damien knew that it was more than that. He hadn't just chosen betrayal for its own sake, in that moment in the Hunter's Keep; he'd chosen Gerald, and that choice was always going to be there, just like the link that hummed between their souls. They were walking the same path now, and wherever it lead, they would be treading it side by side.

Finally, Gerald spoke, his voice soft but ever so steady; the unwavering voice of a man who had stared Death in the face, and made it bow to him.

“I don't know that I can ever find a way to repay you for that... but I swear, on my life, that I will never make you regret it.”

Damien reached up and took the hand that had gripped his shoulder in his own, lacing their fingers together, the Hunter's once-chill hand now almost warm against his own.

“That's good enough for me.”

[manggaetteokkie]

So what are your top 5 favorite BTS songs and then top 5 favorite BTS videos?

Then what are you top 5 favorite Jikook moments? Lol Haaaard questions

Gonna combine these two cause I think these are from the same anonie, who I’m starting to think likes to make people suffer djfhskdh (if it’s not from the same person, then big rip) 

Sorry this took so long, I was really trying to narrow it down to top 5 and I think I still ended up failing... I actually do this with my friends but usually, we’re a little bit more generous by narrowing it down to stuff like: top 5 title tracks, top 5 rap-line, top 5 vocal line, top 5 albums, etc... Asking me top 5 songs from their entire discography is absolutely savage.

For my top 5 BTS songs (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER BECAUSE I BARELY NARROWED IT DOWN TO FIVE, YOU CANT MAKE ME RANK THEM):

Blood Sweat & Tears: the monarch, the goat, putting it simply, the absolute best. I honestly remember when the Wings short films started dropping, my friend and I panicked HARD because we were like “WTF IS GOING ON WHAT IS THIS”. And then the teaser dropped, and it was so different from the “typical” BTS we’ve been getting, so we were even more confused. But then... The MV dropped and that was honestly just such a massive turning point for everything. Also, as an ARMY with a Jimin bias, I almost didn’t survive it.

Attack on Bangtan: okay this is honestly just such a fun hype song that never gets old no matter how many times you listen to it? It’s honestly a classic and whenever it plays on Run BTS, I know I’m either about to witness an epic moment or it’s gonna send my ass on the floor from laughing. (Also, let us never forget Tae’s “Nico nico niiii~”)

I Need U: okay this was The song that got me learning all their names and holy shit, I’ve listened to this song so much, it’s currently 5th most played song (out of nearly 2k songs) in my iTunes with 1,338 plays. When one hears “Fall...”, one does not simply resist the urge to belt “EVERYTHANG” with feelings. Also, funnily enough, the one that first caught my eye was Yoongi, there was something so eye-catching about the way he rapped in such a despondent manner at the start of the mv. 

House of Cards: I definitely need to put this one because I’ve listened to this song a total of 2,104 times, if you add the Prologue (short) version total (861) to the full length one (1,243). This was my “hoe” anthem long before My Time was born. I deadass fell in love with the song 10 seconds in, there was no saving me and you cannot stop anyone from doing emo bodyrolls when it comes up. Jikook’s bridge? I can’t sing to save my life but you can bet your ass I’m lipsyncing to that shit every single time.

I HATE THIS. I HATE PICKING THE LAST ONE, I WANT TO FIT THEIR ENTIRE DISCOGRAPHY INTO THIS LAST SPOT FFFFFFF.

And now, the last one... can I cheat and throw Euphoria, Serendipity and Seesaw all at my 5th spot? Cause I REALLY can’t pick one out of these 3 skjdhfkshdkf I have such an emotional attachment to Serendipity and Euphoria at this point (DJ Swivel remix of Euphoria? Hello?? I almost cried??? You are me, I am you?? HMMM????), and Seesaw just really surprised me. I absolutely was not expecting it, but holy shit, Seesaw slapped and it slapped hard. At this point, I’m like, anything Yoongi touches turns to absolute gold, I can’t resist him.

Okay I have so many other faves (Spring Day, Baepsae, etc.) but since you only asked for top 5 and not, like, top 100, I have to stop myself here, but I also very curious about your top 5s if you guys wanna share!! Let’s see how well you do, only narrowing it down to 5.

For my top 5 BTS videos (I only counted Bangtan Bombs and live performances, excluding MVs, since you didn’t specify. Otherwise there are too many... just thinking about how many Run BTS episodes I could fit otherwise lmfao):

Perfect Man: I’m a Jimin stan. What did you expect, me to not include this masterpiece??

As I Told You: Good lord, Jungkook was so fkn attractive in a hockey jersey of all things. I honestly loved it so much, I can listen to the live audio as is.

2018 MMA - IDOL Intro Performance (3J focus): Again, I am a Jimin stan. But seriously, from Hobi hitting every. single. beat. while dancing on a raised platform, to Jimin’s fan dance (I streamed the show live and I couldn’t focus on anything else after), to JK lounging like the absolute king that he is, what’s not to love?

It’s Tricky Bangtan Bomb: oldie but goldie, honestly. All of them were babies but holy shit, if their casual dancing didn’t absolutely make me fall in love with them all over again. It honestly never gets old no matter how many times I watch it.

BTS Carpool Karaoke: I have to admit, I honestly got stuck picking the last one so I went with this one because I feel like this is a really really good video to introduce others to BTS to. From their amazing acapella vocals (JK belting Finesse lives in my mind rent free) to how they were so perfectly themselves? You had Hobi’s sunshine smile in the middle, Baby Mochi, Jin’s “I don’t know what he said, but let’s laugh ha ha ha ha”, etc. 

Okay I have to admit something, I probably forgot like 90% of their videos so if any of you guys mention a video, I might go “AH SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THAT ONE SKDJFHKSH” so take this list more as a “bangtan videos you should 100% watch” :^)

For my top 5 jikook moments (you absolutely devil, how could you ask me such a question), in no particular order because, again, I actually cannot physically bring myself to rank them:

Jimin comforting a crying JK during LY: (6:05) the way Jimin ran over as soon as he saw Jungkook bent over, facing the backstage. My heart. And he kept JK company for a bit, making sure he was fine before leaving. This whole thing just makes my heart melt into a puddle no matter how many times I think/see about it because it’s like, the timing is just? Anpanman barely started and he just looked over, saw, and ran over. Jesus Christ.

That Jikook moment during SY Seoul Finale: Just how much comfort Jimin must represent for Jungkook to let the dam free once again just seeing his face aghhhhhasgdahj I literally made an entire post about that moment because of how incredibly soft it gets me. I’ve linked it but it’s also my pinned so it’s very easy to find. 

“Are you guys dating?”: (start) holy shit okay so this moment is so sdjkfhkdshkfdhks the way both of them were so giggly? It never fails to make me laugh how absolutely done Joon sounded when he said “push quickly!” Also, just how soft did Jimin make his voice when he asked “are you ready”? and how JK, the single most competitive member of BTS, was just giggling the entire time and didn’t even try pushing Jimin before Jimin ended up eliminating himself. Not to mention how JK couldn’t into Jimin’s eyes and only finally made eye contact with at the very end :^)

MMA 2018: lmao okay so I’m just gonna throw this entire fkn night into the mix. I still remember how it was the wee hours in the morning for me when I started following the live stream and damn, they were literally inseparable the entire time. My TL was exploding in Jikook content and between watching them through the official broadcast and watching the fancams, I was BUSY. They did everything: whispering to each other’s ears, slinging their arms around each other’s shoulders, JK massaging JM’s nape, JK pulling JM down to sit... phew.

GCF in Tokyo: Okay so this is one of those things that the more you think about it, the more you can’t believe it’s real. I couldn’t not include this simply because of how meaningful the whole thing was. There’s so much about it that makes me ????? because JK really booked a two-person trip to Tokyo for Jimin’s birthday. And Jimin genuinely had fun on that trip. The whole thing just shows how comfortable the two of them are with each other because they’d never had gone on a trip together elsewise. I recently saw a Korean movie director’s reaction to GCF and the whole thing didn’t have any subs, but the two reactors were like “ohhh... these two... these two must be really close” (they’d reacted to BTS MVs before, but they’re not familiar with how the members are outside of that). From my limited Korean understanding, the movie director then commented “Because the model and the director are so close, it’s very natural” (if I’ve gotten any Korean followers, I’d love to get confirmation on the words said because my Korean understanding isn’t perfect and I don’t want to be spreading crap around). GCF in Tokyo is also the first video posted under the GCF label, with JK editing the whole thing himself. He filmed, he directed, he edited. And his main actor was Jimin.

I was this 👌🏻 close to adding LY lap sitting and Rose Bowl moments but I had other faves to include so I thought I’d go with something else :^) GCF forced its way into my list, I had no say in it.

Okay so I hope this was enough skdjfhkdshfs this post got really long cause I couldn’t help myself from giving reasons for why I included the ones I did, I’m sorry sjkfhdks Please feel free to share you’re own fave songs/videos/jikook moments!!

[zargsnake]

Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 6: Tila Juna

Word Count: 1659 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

  *   *   *

As he is meditating, several guards burst through the curtain into Obi-Wan's room.

“Alright, Jedi, what did you do?” asks a Rodian.

“Do?”

“Where is your boy?” asks an Ithorian in his steady, peculiar language, which the cosmopolitan scholar of course understands perfectly.

“Oh, dear. I thought he was with you!”

The Rodian smacks his insolent guts with her staff. “He's run off! What did you tell him? What did you give him?”

“Nothing. I know nothing about this station. And I haven't left this room.”

The Rodian whacks him on the head. “Sneaky Jedi rat.”

The Ithorian wearily halts his coworker’s attack. “Juna’s girl will work just as well for your death matches. Your boy was only ever extra bait. Now he has proven himself to be only trouble.” His gaze is imperious and bland. “When we find him, we shoot on sight. Then we’ll slice off his head before you can pull any of your magic tricks, and divide the spoils between the upper officers.”

“You underestimate him. He cannot be found if he doesn't want to be.”

“We shall see,” the third guard, a Zabrak, threatens.

Obi-Wan feels no fear at her appearance. She looks far more like his Zabrak friend Master Koth than the Sith. No one looks like the Sith.

But, for Anakin, he feels great fear. What did Anakin do? Where did he go? What is he thinking? Anakin amazed Obi-Wan with his knowledge of these low-lives. But on his own, in a place like this? With all the street smarts in the world, he won’t last an hour.

I have lost the Chosen One. Qui-Gon would kill me.

Nevertheless, the bold knight tuts and laughs. “You would love to hear our master plan, wouldn't you? Ah. I pity you all for what's about to happen to you and your little tournament.”

The Rodian hits him again.

“Alright, then,” says Obi-Wan, grimacing. “If you want answers, you'd better bring in your boss. I'll only talk to Knightkiller.”

“Not likely,” the Ithorian responds. “You'll only fight Knightkiller once you’ve defeated all the others. So many of our athletes are paying through their noses for the chance to kill you.”

“In that case, please do drop a line if my Padawan turns up.”

The guards leave, irritated.

A minute later, they return, now practically hysterical.

“Alright!” yells the Rodian. “Something IS up! Where's the girl, Jedi?!”

“What girl?”

“Juna's Padawan!”

“Goodness gracious. Can't you keep a better eye on us?”

The Rodian moves to hit him again, but stops since he doesn't seem affected. “We know you're behind this.”

“It's almost like the most highly-trained warriors in the galaxy can just slip through your nasty little fingers.”

She hits him again.

“The teachers will pay for their students' disobedience,” says the Zabrak, who pulls the other two guards out of the room and slams the door.

The warriors beside Obi-Wan have gone quiet, intimidated by his taunting, in awe of his unknown abilities and those of the other three Jedi. Obi-Wan wonders how long that awe will last, if he can't escape as the clearly more competent children did.

Suddenly, the door to the arena opens up. He hears the crowd chanting his name. When he steps out, his arm shielding the brightness from his eyes, they all cheer for him. He feels disgusted to be a source of admiration for people like this, for doing the worst thing in the world. The sand underfoot is congealed with spots of blood. An attendant hands him a clean sword.

As the announcer speaks, and Obi-Wan's eyes adjust to the light, he sees that his opponent is that boyfriend-killer Tiango. The Mandalorian flexes and poses for the audience, but they are not swayed in their support for Obi-Wan.

In the same chair on which they had bound Anakin, now they have bound Master Juna. Where Anakin was terrified, Juna is peaceful, even content. She is a tall, large, fuzzy alien, a Lollian. Centuries ago, so he’d been told, her fur was bright orange with brown stripes, but he has only ever known her to be gray and silver. One of the two horns curling around her head is broken, but that was not from this death game; it has been like that as long as Obi-Wan can remember. The woman seems entirely unfazed and unharmed by the experience. He knows this cannot be remotely true, and yet she hides her pain so well -- or else, the Force is so strong with her that she sits on a plane of existence above it all, unbothered. She nods at him and he feels as one blessed.  

Obi-Wan instinctively reaches out for his own master. The years of physical peril and spiritual confusion in the life of a Padawan trained Obi-Wan to reach out to Qui-Gon as an immediate reaction, utterly replacing his natural fight-or-flight instinct, the ways of the Jedi overcoming evolution itself.

But of course he cannot reach him. Grief strikes him harder than any of these crooks could, harder than even any Sith could.

He's got to replace that instinct himself, this time; he's got to do it himself. There's someone else he has to reach for now, someone who feels entirely different, strange, and small, still smarting from a bad first impression. And -- more than that -- he, Obi-Wan, has got to be ready for Anakin whenever Anakin needs him, for whatever, just as his master was for him. The weight of this responsibility could crush the young man.

Anakin is here in the audience. Obi-Wan can sense his presence.  

Obi-Wan glances over the crowd -- Tiango seems to be posturing still -- but he can’t locate his Padawan. Anakin seems panicked, urgent. He has seen Tiango kill before, kill someone he cared for. He must be worried Tiango will be too much for Obi-Wan to handle. But Obi-Wan took down several Yoroo Soldiers less than one year ago. Sure, they're not an easy fight, but he knows their tricks; he knows their evil cybernetic enhancements.

Chahlee sends a laser, suddenly, at Obi-Wan, from his blaster-arm. Obi-Wan deflects it deftly, causing the audience to gasp, but the impact bends his vibroblade. Obi-Wan stares at it. He forgot they did that.

   *   *   *

Freed, with the help of Fenn Gallowk and his acid-blaster, on the upper floor of the space station, Anakin knows he needs to hide his Jedi robe and Padawan hair. These people might even know his face. He got lucky with Fenn -- the next person who recognizes him from the Boonta Eve race probably won't give Anakin a chance to talk it out.

Anakin wonders if anyone here bet ON him. He doubts it. But it's a big galaxy, and maybe someone out there took a chance on him.

He remembers Qui-Gon's confident face, and how the man had picked him up to put him into the podracer, and then picked him out of it in the end and carried him on his shoulders. If Anakin is honest with himself, he knows Qui-Gon was, really, the only person who believed in him. His mom, Padme, and Jar Jar had supported him, and hoped beyond hope he would make it out alive. But Qui-Gon was the only one, probably in the whole universe, who believed -- foresaw, even -- that Anakin would win.

No, that's not true. Anakin had believed that too. How could he fail, when they all needed him so badly? When there was absolutely no other way, no choice?

Anakin hurries down the prison hall. The cells are closed on all sides; it is impossible to see who is being kept in them. He hides behind the flap of a garbage chute as a security droid passes; he sits with his back and legs pressed against opposite sides of the chute, careful not to fall down into who-knows-where. It smells awful. He jumps back into the hallway and finds the door to the public area ajar. He pushes his way out and tries to blend in with the crowd, keeping his head down and arms crossed around his blaster and the front of his robe.

Recharging: 3%.

Of all the blasters he could have stolen...

Just around the corner, he sees a big green alien at a desk and, behind them, a coat-check. Anakin ducks under the desk and sneaks into the room full of these criminals’ coats and cloaks. It smells even worse than the garbage chute.

He holds his nose and searches for something bulky, obscuring, and somewhat in his size. He finds a fur cloak, the pelt of a pink monster with its horned face still attached. He puts it on and ties the lower part around his waist so it doesn't drag on the floor. With the hood up, he can hide his own face inside the monster's mouth. He hides the blaster in the copious folds of fur.

Maneuverable? No. Inconspicuous? No. Unrecognizable, and able to hide his weapon? Yes.

Exciting? Yes!

Now he's got to get to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan will know what to do. Even if he doesn't, it's Anakin's duty to be at Obi-Wan's side.

The loudspeakers announce the fight between Obi-Wan and Chahlee Tiango. Anakin feels afraid, and tells himself Jedi do not feel afraid, but it doesn’t help.

He sneaks back out from under the desk and finds two large furry aliens on the way into the arena, arguing with each other and paying no attention to anyone. He sticks close to them and pretends they are his parents. Once the hairy family has entered the arena through this upper-floor entrance, Anakin separates from them and waddles through the balcony seats, trying to get as close to the arena as he can. He sees Obi-Wan and the Mando have already begun to fight. He takes a seat on the floor at the very front of the balcony and holds onto the bars with his shivering hands.

“Come on, Master.”

Chapter 7: Jane

[malebodyinvasion]

The Horse and the Rad

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Horse's POV

"It must be nice to be a horse. You don't have any problems and run around this field in all fours." This were the last words of my owner before he and I swapped bodies.

I didn't know what just happened but in just a split second I'm now sitting atop of my former horse body. I got surprised and fell to the ground. My horse body looked at me with pity for a few seconds and galloped away. Did owner Dave swap our bodies in purpose?

I stood up with just two limbs and it felt exciting. I always wonder how humans can walked around with only two legs. In the end, it's about our anatomy and balance. I wondered at first where I get those words but it seems after that short headache, I learned all of Dave's memory and knowledge. How cool is that!

Suddenly, Dave's cellphone rang. My current limbs, called hands, instinctively moved by its own and answer the call. I didn't know how but my current mouth let out some bubbly words and the girlish voice on the other line laughed out loud. She said "Take care, Dave." and hang the phone. That is all weird but after that I regain control of the limbs again.

I noticed that Dave's penis got hard. It must be a woman she likes and now his body is acting horny. It feels great, I found myself rubbing that area above his pants.

Dave, I assumed inside my horse body, run in front of me and gave what I thought is a nod. Due to my curiosity, I interpreted it as a permission granted to do some pervert stuff in his body.

I removed all of his clothes until only a pair of yellow shorts remain. I could see Dave's proud pectorals and abs. I flex his arms and legs so I could see closer how his body became buff from a stick he was before. Then an idea popped into my mind. When Dave passed in front of me again, I chased after him and climbed on his back.

"Now, I'm the one riding you." I said in a smug tone and he reacted with a neigh as he stood up with my former hind legs with the forelegs off the ground. "Hey, that's good rearing!" I complimented. It obvious that he is also enjoying the swap.

While on top, I continuously rubbed my current genitals over the shorts. Then I lay down on his back and let my new hands crawl inside Dave's shorts and underwear. I could feel it getting harder. I manuevered carefully while my owner is galloping around, so I could removed the remaining pieces of cloth in his body, revealing his large hard penis. I wrapped his hands around his entire length and started twisting the shaft, I moaned louder. I cannot believe how more erotic it was to use hands to pleasure oneself, but I won't exchange this for my better and longer schlong in my real body.

I couldn’t keep it in any longer and blew streams of semen across Dave’s sexy body. This the first time I could see cum in a closer look. It’s sticky and tasty after licking those in my hands. My owner loudly neighed and quickly walked towards the nearest stable. I don't know if he is mad but something get into my head and his body moves without my control. 

Warning: From this part, there might be things that you won’t be like reading. You probably have an idea. Proceed at your own discretion.

Dave's POV

I didn't expect that it would be this easy to swap bodies with an animal. I swapped bodies with my stallion since I've been wondering how it feels like to run in all fours and having the wind caressed a naked body.  It never crossed my mind until now.

See, I have learned this power to swap bodies with anyone, will they be a man, a woman, or an animal. In spite of someone inhabiting my body and assuming control, I still can manipulate it to my will and experience its sensations through mind control.

When I heard my phone ringing from a distance with my currently sensitive hearing, I ordered my body to answer it and replied like I was in there. But I didn't expect my horse to become so horny in my body after hearing my girlfriend's voice. I can't deny how lovely her voice is.

I could see his curiosity before me so I gave him a nod and a signal through the mind just to be sure. I had to admit that it feels kind of embarrassing and unsettling watching my pet stallion inside my body remove all of my clothes erotically. I had to stopped him until he only had shorts. I was right to request the farm helper to leave me alone here.

The stallion continued to explore my hunky body. Through the link with my body, I could feel how exhilarated he was right now. I got bored of waiting and ordered him to ride on me and masturbate atop. Oh, my! I could feel my current horse dick getting hard and long but there's no way I could touch it with these hooves.

Once he blew my body’s load, I paced us inside the stable. It’s my turn to try things out and release some pleasure in his stallion body. He ride off my back and used his current two hands to grasp my raging horse boner. He started to move it up and down. With the excitement, I could’t stop moving my limbs, even though my former hands barely massage the entire schlong. This feels great!

Suddenly, my body shouted. “Hang in there, buddy! You almost hit this precious body of yours with those kicks.” Crap, I forgot due to this wild equine sensation. “Wait, there.” He said. It seems I accidentally unlink my soul to my body and now he’s acting on his own volition.

He removed the brown mantle covering a mare dummy and picked up the artificial mare genitalia device. He told me to mount the dummy and inserted my horse boner into the device. I continuously let the my lower horse body move back and forth until volume of semen was extracted from me. That sure is a weird feeling but amazing. 

“Look at how much you release,” my body waved the bottle attached to the device in front of my equine eyes. Until now, I can’t believe how much a horse can blew in one ejaculation.

I re-established the link between my body and soul and commanded him to take all of my clothes he just threw around the field. He came back already wearing my gray underwear but he kept on massaging my cock through it. 

“Hey, owner! Being a human feels so  great,” He told me. “Can we do it again next time?”

"Sure, my best friend,” I replied after undoing the swap.

A/N: It feels weird writing the second part but I can’t help myself. 

[bedtimebrain]

EXO D.O.:A little Jealous Part 2! (D.O. POV)

Previously I mentioned I might or might not do Ksoo’s but I started writing out of fun and decided to complete it! I really liked this one, hope you guys will like it too! You might wanna do a fast read at part 1 again so it wouldn’t seem too abrupt~

And for those that are new here, there’s a Part 1 and Part 2 (Your POV) to this scenario! The part 2s can be read as a either or if you don’t really wanna read both.

Part 1 Part 2 Your POV

Here it goes!

—————

Kyungsoo walked straight out of the door without thinking, letting his legs bring him to wherever was quiet. Heading for the elevator, he punched for the ground floor. Seeing an empty cafe as the elevator doors open, he sat down at an empty table trying to sort his thoughts.

The comments he saw kept running through his mind:

‘Cute!Ship ship!’

‘Last long! Was waiting for you guys to make it official!!

‘after so long, finally?!’

A part of Kyungsoo wants to believe in you, surely this was a misunderstanding.

Yet the comments he saw didn’t make sense to him. It made him afraid to give his trust, not wanting to feel like a fool if it turned out for the worst.

Kyungsoo can’t help but compare himself with that guy in the picture. The guy sure looks taller than him and better built . He even had those looks that guys would take a second look at..

Pulling out his phone, he thought to type a text to you, but not sure what to say. Typing then deleting it again and again. Just then, Suho’s call came in:

S: Kyungsoo-ya, the photographer’s wife got into an accident. He’s postponing the remaining shoot to rush to the hospital. We’re heading off , are you coming with us?

KS: uh okay. Hyung could you take my bag for me? I’ll meet you guys at the carpark.

—

In the van, everyone was tired after a long day and the van was quiet. But at the back, jongin and junmyeon sat beside Kyungsoo with some sort of tense silence.

‘Hyung, are you not going to ask Y/N about what happened?’ Jongin asked

‘Kyungsoo ya, jongin is right. You sitting here and overthinking isn’t going to solve the situation. Even though that guy is really handsome, you’re not goin to lose to him if y/n loves you. Text her or look for her’

Junmyeon’s words hit kyungsoo right where it hurts. Making a decision, he asked the manager to drop him off when the van passed by your living estate.

Kyungsoo walked nervously to your apartment, not really sure what he should exactly do when he sees you. Before he knew it, he was already right in front of your door. Taking a breath in, he pressed the door bell.

‘Minho ya!!’ Came your voice from behind the door.

Hearing his girlfriend call another guy’s name so frantically made him feel just a little strange.

Looking up at you as you opened the door, he saw your look of surprise, or was it shock(?)

‘Oppa, why are you here ? Did your photoshoot end early? You didn’t text me back tho...’

Though hearing your questions, he was not being able to hold back that feeling of discomfort bugging him to ask

‘Uh are you expecting someone? Minho?’

‘Oh right, speaking of which I dont need him now, let me drop him a text. Oppa come in and kill the bug for me please!!’ His eyes dropped to your hands that were pulling his arm, making him feel fuzzy in a moment, then downcast again. How long as it been since you guys last met? So long that he almost forgot this feeling of warmth only you could give him.

With thoughts clouding his mind, he killed the bug, dumping it away without even speaking to you. Not because he didn’t want to , but he doesn’t know how to. Just then, you gave him a hug suddenly ,

‘Thank you, for killing the bug’

Seeing that smile on your face reminded him just how lucky he was to have you and how much he hated these feelings of uncertainty and anxiousness right now.

Sitting down on the sofa together, you linked your arms with him, then suddenly breaking the silence.

‘Oppa, do you have something to tell me? You don’t look particularly excited or happy to be here today’

Kyungsoo felt his throat going dry, thinking, it’s scary how easily you knew him inside out even though he was so indecipherable to other people...

Setting his mind to stop avoiding the issue, he reached for the water on the table, almost hoping the water would clean up his thoughts for him.

‘I saw that picture. The one on instagram.’ Not exactly having the courage to look at you, he glanced over your eyes quickly and waited for your reply.

‘Ah that.. sorry oppa, it was a dare I had to do at the team dinner, I tried so hard to avoid it but I couldn’t say I was attached either.. ’

Choosing not to be convinced just yet, kyungsoo added quickly

‘But the string of comments sure made it sound like you guys are the most popular ship in your school?’

He saw a small frown on your face briefly and his heart was pumping so loudly in his ears. What if .....

‘Oppa that’s actually Minho in the picture. And you know we are just really close friends.’

At this Kyungsoo was a little taken aback. He did not expect that to be Minho. In your description, Minho was an over competitive loser and one that’s always up to dumb things. This absolutely gave Kyungsoo a false impression that he’s just another childish guy out there or some lanky guy in the track team.

He tried to convince himself to be understanding afterall he knew deep down you both were just friends. But who was he kidding, he suddenly really hated the idea of you and Minho hanging out together everyday, giving everyone the false impression that you both are a couple.

Not being able to contain that internal conflict, he blurted out without thinking ‘I don’t really like you hanging out with minho.’

Crap. Hearing his own voice saying it, he felt selfish and guilty, yet also raw and vulnerable because that’s how he truly felt.

‘Oppa, you were always okay with minho and i hanging out. Why does us taking a picture change that!?’ Seeing you suddenly getting up and raising your tone in exasperation, he knew he hit the trigger button.

But similarly, he was almost at his breaking point now. Not being able to keep his emotions under control anymore, he shot back

‘y/n do you know how i felt looking at those comments?! I am not okay with the whole school thinking you both are together when you’re supposed to be my girlfriend!’ and he too got up from the sofa in frustration.

‘Ya! Even if i am not friends with minho, I can’t always avoid such situations! Because i can’t tell anyone i’m attached, guys still hit on me and people think they can pair me up with random guys because they think i’m single!

To me, they can think whatever they want but minho is just a friend. Oppa, shouldn’t you of all people understand this the most?’

Understand ? Is this how idols who date non idols communicate with their partners when they face scandals and what not? Who would have thought the situation would be reversed this way for himself ?

‘You’re asking me to understand when minho actually looks your ideal type? And i never knew about it?’

The words left his lips, seeming to surprise both you and him. He tried so hard to bury this insecurity inside him. But feeling all hurt and angry with himself, with this situation, he couldn’t really hold it in to deal with it himself. When he first saw Minho’s picture, even he had to admit minho was good looking. And now knowing someone like him was your close friend, he struggled to handle this truth.

‘My ideal type? If we wanted to get together, we would have long ago ok! Why would I get together with you then him?!’

At this it rendered him speechless. That ‘assurance’ was not assurance at all as you both reach the peak of your argument and let silence rule the house. Scenarios of you and Minho hanging out together, having fun kept passing through his mind. How Minho was far better looking than him, far more fun than him, maybe even far more compatible with you than him were thoughts that rudely barge through his mind.

Feeling like this was more than what he could bear at the moment, he was about to walk away, but right there and then your hands wrapped around his waist, in between his arms, and leaning unto his chest. Though you did not say a thing, he understood your gesture of love. Overwhelmed with emotions, he muttered

‘When I saw that picture, it felt like my nightmare came true. Every night i get worried that you would one day get tired of dating an idol.. Or even dating someone like me..

we don’t spend alot of time together but you always get to be with minho.. so much that people think you’re both attached..’

He knew this sounded weak and clingy , someone he doesn’t ever want to be in front of you. But your hug gave him courage to be honest, knowing that sometimes he doesn’t have to pretend like he can hold everything together when he really couldn’t. Through your hug, he knew that some of these insecurities were unfounded because he felt loved right at that moment. Yet the battle with his inner demons has not ended.

You pulled kyungsoo back down on the sofa and started

‘oppa, i cannot promise you people will stop misunderstanding minho and i, but i will be more careful to draw a clearer line in our friendship for you.

and i never thought of minho as my ideal type or saw him in a way more than friends. i know it might not put you at ease hearing me say this, but can you trust me?

I have been friends with minho for many years and have met many guys too. But it’s you for me ok?’

Looking into your eyes, he quietly let the words you say sink in and thought inside ‘it’s you for me too, don’t leave’

Poking him at his stomach, you continued

‘though you may not be the most attractive looking man out there…’

He knew you were joking, but he can’t help feeling a little down at your words, until you gave him a peck on the cheek and continued

‘but you make me feel comfortable and special all at the same time. saranghae oppa, you’re the only one.’

At your words, he couldn’t hold back his urge to pull you closer, resting his chin on your head he said

‘ Though i still don’t feel the best about our situation and about minho, but i know we can’t help this.. Just promise to stay with me please’

You raised your pinky finger and turned up to face him, replying brightly

‘ i promise you oppa!’

Linking your pinkies together, the storm inside kyungsoo finally cleared up today. Smiling back at you, he says the words he longs to say to you everyday till forever

‘na do saranghae’

[heller-obama]

There’s Nothing Wrong With Me (This is How I’m Supposed to Be)

Wowww, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted a fic directly onto tumblr. I actually posted this on ao3 like 3 months ago but I guess I just forgot to post it here lol. Well here y’all go, here’s that one merthur fic I wrote like 3.5 months ago! Ao3 link

*^*^*^*

“Right, you filthy vermin.” The slave trader (Jarl, perhaps?) said, looking down at them in more ways than one. “Which one of you is ready to face my champion in the arena?” No one answered him immediately - and not that he gave them much time to.

“No volunteers?” the man asked again, as if that would prompt someone to step up. “Well, I shall have to choose one of you myself, then.” Arthur felt the man’s eyes drag across the small mass of men. “How about…” His stomach began to sink when his gaze landed in his direction. “You?” His finger stopped right next to Arthur, and his stomach plummeted. Like the rest of the prisoners, he looked for the man who was unfortunate enough to be picked - although he already knew who it was.

Merlin blinked at Jarl, as if he couldn’t believe he was chosen out of all the strong, warrior-type men he was surrounded by. “Me?”

Jarl put his hands on his hips. “Death or glory, boy? You should be honoured.”

“But, I—” He started before Arthur cut him off.

“I volunteer,” he yelled up at their captor, subconsciously placing himself in front of Merlin and in between his servant and the dangerous slave trader that was trying to put him into harm’s way - something that definitely did not escape the man’s notice.

“You volunteer?” he chuckled. “I’m sorry, it’s a little late for that.”

“Well, you wanted a volunteer, so here I am. Unless your idea of entertainment is your champion crushing nothing but weaklings like this?” He heard Merlin protest weakly behind him, and he stomped on his foot as discreetly as possible to shut him up. He hoped his face was his regular mask of arrogance and not the complete and utter panic he felt inside. He couldn’t let Merlin fight this “champion,” he just couldn’t—

Jarl squinted down at him. “You think you can offer a better contest?”

“I guarantee it.”

“Arthur, no,” Merlin said quietly behind him, as if Arthur was a dog - or that he'd actually listen.

The slave trade laughed again. “Very well. Your friend will not fight my champion today.” Arthur felt himself release the breath he didn’t know he'd been holding. “Instead, he will fight you.”

Rough hands unceremoniously threw Arthur and Merlin into the “arena,” which was really just a round area bordered by other men hungry to see the two prisoners fight. Arthur almost couldn’t hear himself think, the crowd was roaring and cheering so loud.

“Gentlemen,” Jarl said, rising from his throne and immediately quieting the roars from the men around them. “The rules are simple. One man lives, one man dies.” Loud, raucous cheering rose up from the crowd once more; ending as soon as it started. “If you cannot or will not off your opponent, I shall kill you both.” More cheers rang out across the room as Jarl tossed two (quite shoddily made, if Arthur did say so himself) swords in front of himself and Merlin.

Arthur looked at Merlin and saw the same fear and apprehension shown in his face as he felt himself, which was comforting, in some strange way. He then looked down at the swords and snatched one up for himself, delaying swinging at Merlin until he was sure that his servant could parry it.

Merlin did parry his strike, although it was rather slow and weak for his tastes, and he wasted as much time as he could before launching another strike, backhand this time, and then another one overhead as slow as he could without raising suspicion. His next strike caught Merlin’s blade so that he could pull Merlin towards himself.

“Take it easy, will you?” Merlin ground out as he was pulled against Arthur, trying to pull his blade out from under Arthur’s.

Arthur shot him a look that he hoped said, keep fighting, you arse. “It’s got to look real, hasn’t it?”

Merlin shot him a glare in return that he knew meant he understood, so he finally leveraged his sword so that Merlin was shoved away from him and into the vicious crowd. They shoved him back with an equal amount of aggressiveness, and Arthur attacked him with several strikes he knew Melin couldn’t keep blocking; his parries were already becoming progressively weaker.

Arthur let Merlin strike him this time, and when he did, he responded in another blow that pulled Merlin towards him.

“I refuse to kill you,” Arthur grumbled as Merlin’s elbow nearly caught him in the face.

“If you don’t, he’ll kill the both of us, clotpole,” Merlin shot back.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” Merlin fixed him with another snarky glare and attempted to move away from him so that he could launch another strike, but somehow, the bumbling idiot managed to trip over the flagstones, lose his sword, and trip Arthur in the progress.

Arthur thanked the gods that the way it happened looked as if Merlin lost his balance and that Arthur used the chance to try to pin him on the ground.

He landed on top of Merlin, both of them grasping at each other’s faces half-heartedly, trying to get the upper hand. The crowd went wild, rushing forwards to get as close to the two fighters as possible.

“What next?” asked Merlin.

“There was no ‘next,’” He scoffed, but before Merlin could respond, Jarl pushed through to the edge of the bloodthirsty crowd.

“Finish him!” Bellowed Jarl.

Merlin shot him a panicked look and a lightbulb seemingly went off in his head as it was replaced with a resigned expression. “Please don’t hate me,” He muttered, and before Arthur could say anything like I could never hate you or something monumentally stupid, like I couldn’t hate you, I love you, Merlin muttered something else, powerful, foreign words that automatically sent a spike of fear into his heart. “Forbærne æltæwelice!” Sure enough, his eyes glowed gold for a few seconds, and suddenly, the flames on the torches doubled and tripled in size, lighting the ropes hanging from the ceiling on fire.

The men in the crowd scattered, causing chaos to erupt in the room and giving them what would be the perfect chance to escape, had Arthur been able to do anything but stare at his manservant in complete and utter shock.

“Get up, you daft twat!” Merlin nearly yelled, rolling out from under Arthur and dragging him to his feet.

He let himself be dragged along and through the crowds, his mind still processing what had happened in the arena. Merlin has magic? Was just one of the many thoughts that were pressing against his head, desperate to escape. The only thought that was more pressing than that was Merlin lied to me, has been lying to me, for the whole time I’ve known him. And then: But did I ever really know him?

He must’ve been more lost in thought than he realized because soon he was running into the forest, Melin dragging him along, with Gwaine at his side, holding the swords they both dropped after their “fight.” They kept on going until Merlin was wheezing so hard he could barely go on, and Gwaine forced them to take a break.

Without waiting for any of their party to catch their breath (including himself), his anger overwhelmed him and he stalked over to Merlin and got into his face, nearly shoving him up against a tree. “What the bloody hell was that, Merlin?” He was so close to Merlin that he could see every single little microexpression on his face; from the total fear that flashed in his eyes like the gold that appeared when he did magic to the way his throat moved as he gulped heavily.

“Arthur, I—” Merlin started, his voice quiet and shaky, but Gwaine interrupted him.

“Arthur, I think you need to calm down. Whatever Merlin did, I’m sure it’s all a big misunderstanding.” Gwaine said behind him, his voice low and calming, as if he was trying to soothe a frightened horse.

Arthur whirled around to face him. “‘A big misunderstanding’? The fact that Merlin is a sorcerer is a little bit different from your bar brawls, Gwaine. Don’t try to involve yourself with things that don’t concern you.”

To his merit, Gwaine looked taken aback as well. “Merlin? A sorcerer?”

Before he could explode any further on the other man, Merlin interrupted them both. “I was born with it!” Yelled Merlin, the desperation and hurt coloring his words so much that Arthur pivoted back around and took a step back.

He said quietly, “What?”

“I never chose to practice magic,” Merlin tried again, his voice its usual level now. “I’ve been levitating things since I could walk. Before I even said my first words, I’d already nearly set my mother’s rocking chair on fire.”

“That’s not possible,” he muttered. All sorcerers chose to practice magic, and if not for evil purposes, they soon were corrupted by it anyways. If there was one thing his father taught him, that would be it. “Have you just been conning me all this time?” Making me fall madly in love with you? He refrained from adding. “What was your plan? To gain my trust until I became king and then manipulate me towards your own goals?”

“Are you kidding me?” His friend - no, the sorcerer - scoffed. “I’ve only ever used my magic to save your royal arse.”

“Bollocks. I would’ve known, I would’ve realized.”

Merlin let out a bitter laugh, one that was so different from the one that Arthur was used to hearing that he nearly couldn’t believe that Merlin could make that noise. “I’ve been saving your arse with magic since before I was your manservant.” He started counting names off on his hand. “Lady Helen, Sir Valiant, Sofia and Aulric, Nimueh - several times, mind you, Cornelius Sigan, Morgause - every single time she shows her face, the Great damned Dragon, just off the top of my head.”

Arthur’s jaw hung open. Not that it dropped open dramatically, like in the bard’s stories, but he opened it to ask a question or just to say anything, but nothing came out and it just opened wider and wider. He tried to say something several times, to no avail, before he finally managed to get a few words out. “You bloody idiot.”

“Excuse me?” Squawked Merlin indignantly.

“You blatantly used magic in Camelot, of all places, so close to the king, who executes anyone rumoured of consorting with a sorcerer?”

Merlin scratched the back of his head, an almost sheepish look crossing his face. “I—Yeah.”

“Why on Earth would you do that?” He took a step forward again, bringing him nearly nose-to-nose with Merlin.

“To protect you! Yeah, at first, it was because it was my destiny; I could never fathom how anyone could ever stand you, but then it was because I couldn’t bear you getting hurt when I could’ve protected you!” By the end of his tirade, he was nearly shouting and his breath was coming quicker - well, quicker than it was before, with the deep breaths they were still taking from their speedy exit from the decrepit castle.

Arthur chose to ignore the first half of Merlin’s rant, and he got a rather warm feeling in his chest from the second half. “Did you ever stop to think that I feel the same way? That if I had to stand and watch you get burnt on the pyre because my father executes everyone suspected of using sorcery that I would never forgive myself for not doing everything I could to protect you and that you got caught using sorcery because of me?”

Arthur watched as a myriad of emotions played out on Merlin’s face; first shock, then disbelief, and finally a look that was filled with such intense fondness that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself.

Merlin’s voice was so quiet that he had to lean in a fraction more to hear him, enough so that their noses were touching, now, less than a hairbreadth of space between them. “You would?”

He let out a little huff of breath. “Yes. I thought I made that pretty damn clear—”

Apparently, Merlin had no intentions of letting him finish that sentence, as he moved his face forward a little bit more until their lips were touching and slotted together and suddenly Arthur was kissing back and he pushed his servant - no, Merlin wasn’t his servant right now, he was his best friend and (hopefully soon) his lover - against the tree. He’d be damned if he said this wasn’t the best kiss he’d ever had and nothing else mattered except the two of them - that is, until Gwaine let out a shrill wolf-whistle behind him.

He broke the kiss and let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Dear God, we forgot about Gwaine.”

Merlin let out a small laugh as well, and Gwaine’s wolf-whistle made way for cheering and laughing from the third man. “Oh, bugger off, Gwaine!” Merlin complained, somehow sounding both defeated and lighthearted at the same time. Gwaine - predictably - wasn’t deterred, and his laughter just grew louder.

“Just…go collect some firewood or something!” Arthur ordered him, not bothering to turn his face away from Merlin’s.

“Whatever you say, Princess,” Gwaine drawled, and though Arthur couldn’t see him, he was positive that the man added a mocking bow to punctuate his statement before stalking off into the woods. Once he was sure that Gwaine was definitely out of earshot, he leaned his forehead into Merlin’s and started laughing, with Merlin soon joining him.

“Where did we manage to find him again?” He muttered.

“He saved your sorry arse, as I remember it,” Merlin retorted playfully.

“My arse did not need saving!”

“Oh, it most definitely—”

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Gladly.” Arthur almost didn’t let him finish that one word by resuming their kiss, relishing in the fact that he’d finally figured out a reliable way to shut his best friend up.

*^*^*^*

Well there y’all go! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!!

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 3: The Things We Do for Love

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which Harry and Y/N get into a fight, and she thinks her ex still has feelings for her.

Word count: 5.4k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Warning: This chapter contains smut (not that any of you cares tho 😂)

Wattpad link (original character: Thea as Y/N)

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“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nodded as she gulped down the rest of her champagne and gave her empty glass to a waiter who walked past her and Harry.

As the party got more crowded, she got more impatient. There was something about partying with celebrities that made her feel exhausted, and she couldn’t wait for it to be over so she could go home.

She supposed Harry felt the same way. After all, they were only there because his manager had put them on the guest list. The host was a famous new director named Finley and Jeff didn’t want his client to waste such a good networking opportunity. And she, of course, was trying to be the supportive girlfriend he deserved.

He interlocked their fingers and brought her hand to his mouth, giving it a kiss. “If you want, we can leave.”

“Don’t worry. I’m good,” she said, faking a smile.

“Are you sure?” He arched an eyebrow. “Honestly, I don’t really want to be here either. So if you want to go—”

Before Harry could finish the sentence, his eyes stopped at the entrance where he saw Isaac walk in with his manager Lee.

“What is Isaac doing here?” Y/N asked. She was surprised, but Harry wasn’t.

“He photographed Finley last week. I should’ve known he was invited too.”

“Go talk to him then.” She tugged at his arm. “About your dad, remember?”

Harry hesitated for a second as if he was having second thoughts, but then he inhaled deeply and turned back to her. “Are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?”

“Yes. I’m not a kid, H.”

“To me you are.”

She rolled her eyes as he pecked her cheek and was about to leave when he remembered something. “Forgot to say I love you.” He kissed her once more, this time on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said. “Now go.”

Harry gave her a wink and made his way across the crowded room to Isaac.

Y/N was anticipating how their conversation would turn out, but an unfamiliar voice caught her attention.

“Ms Y/L/N.”

She turned around. It took her less than two seconds to recognise the man, but she decided to play it cool by only giving him a smile and letting him introduce himself.

“John Conall. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr Conall.”

They shook hands and he said, “I’m a friend of Harry’s and I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me he was friends with John freaking Conall!” That sentence wasn’t meant to be said aloud, but Y/N was too elated to help herself and lucky for her, Conall didn’t seem to mind.

“You’ve heard of me?” he asked.

“Of course, you are a famous actor, best-selling author, and one of the best literary agents,” she said, trying to contain her excitement by taking in a shaky breath. “I’m actually a big fan of your works, Mr Conall.”

“Please, call me John,” he said and looked over her shoulder to spot Harry talking to Isaac. “Harry’s mentioned that you’re a writer.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself--”

“Honey, I’ve read your manuscript. You are a writer.”

Y/N turned completely paralysed as she heard those words. She looked at him, her eyes widened, her mouth agape. She almost had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“You have?”

He nodded. “Harry sent it to me, and I loved every part of it. I heard it was inspired by your actual relationship, right?”

“I’ve told him not to go telling everyone about that but...yes, it was.” She shyly giggled. “May I ask, what was your favourite part?”

Conall took about a second to think, tapping a finger on his lips. “I cannot just choose one, but the ending was brilliant. We all love a happy ending.”

If Y/N had been on cloud nine just a second ago, now she’d hit the ground and continued falling. Conall’s favourite part could not be the story’s happy ending, because there wasn’t one.

Her book ended with the lovers saying their last goodbye and the man driving away from their hometown and never looking back. She and Harry hadn’t got a real chance to say goodbye last year so she’d given them one in her imagination. Eventually, she’d decided to keep that ending because it was perfect for the story.

Conall had lied to her. He had never read her book. And as disappointed as she was, she was not surprised at all. She glanced at her boyfriend who gave her a smile, and all she felt was a big lump in her throat and a turning stomach.

“So if you’re ever interested in working with me--”

“I’m very flattered, John, but...I’m gonna have to turn you down,” Y/N said.

From the look on Conall’s face, she knew she would never get a second chance to work with him in the future. She might regret it tomorrow when she’d forgiven Harry, but she could never forgive herself if she'd got her first book deal because her boyfriend was famous.

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“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. I can’t let Gemma meet him,” Harry said as he took another sip of champagne and rubbed his fingers around the rim of the glass.

Isaac chewed on his bottom lip, staring at Harry for a long moment as if giving him another chance to change his mind. But when he said nothing, Isaac finally gave a nod. “All right, I’ll tell Emilia you want to meet them.”

“Thank you,” Harry said as they clinked their glasses and finished their drinks. “So...you and Emilia…”

“Are just friends.”

“I wasn’t gonna say that you weren’t.”

“Oh, please. I know you H.” Isaac lifted an eyebrow as he smirked. “Is this still about Y/N and I? Because we’re also just friends.”

“No, this is about you.” Harry chuckled. “I just want to know how you’re doing.”

He honestly couldn’t remember the last time they’d told each other about what was happening in their lives. They used to be so close. And even though Harry had hated Isaac last year, he’d also missed him a lot. It was nice to finally get to know him again.

“I’m doing great,” Isaac said, his lips curved into a smile. “What about you and Y/N? Good?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Harry said as his eyes travelled back to his girlfriend, who was now standing with John Conall. He saw her looking and gave her a smile, to which she responded with another one and immediately looked away. Something seemed odd. But he didn’t think too much about it.

“Did you have anything to do with that?”

“With what?” He raised an eyebrow at Isaac, who let out a slight chuckle and pointed to Y/N and the man.

“That’s John fucking Conall. You know what I’m talking about, H.”

“Okay, maybe...a little,” Harry breathed as he combed his fingers through his unruly hair. “Please don’t tell her. I just wanted to help her out because you know how cutthroat the publishing industry is.”

“Be careful, mate. Y/N’s a smart girl. She’ll find out on her own.”

Isaac’s warning worried Harry quite a bit, but now all he could do was hope he’d done the right thing.

“Hey,” he changed the subject as soon as another one crossed his mind, “you should know that she didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Do what?”

“Tell me about Emilia,” he said, carefully studying Isaac’s expression. “Don’t be mad at her. She feels terrible about it.”

“I can’t stay mad at her. You know how she is.”

When Isaac saw the look on Harry‘s face, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Don’t worry. I don’t love her anymore, at least not the same way you do.”

“No offence but I don’t worry about you anymore,” Harry snorted, giving his empty glass to a waiter. “Before we came to your house that night, she was going to tell me about her other ex, but I freaked her out and she blurted out about Emilia.”

“Wait,” Isaac narrowed his eyes. “Blake?”

“Yup. He’s her neighbour now.”

“Shit, really?”

“Yeah.” Harry exhaled sharply. “Did she tell you a lot about him when you two were...together?”

“Kind of,” Isaac said. “I mean, he was a big part of her life. She said she wouldn’t be who she was if she hadn’t met him.

A big part of her life, the voice inside Harry’s heart mockingly repeated the words. Fuck Blake Roman. Why didn’t that kid just stay in the US?

As if Isaac could hear Harry’s thoughts, he grabbed his shoulder and shook it slightly. “He’s your problem now though.”

“You’re such a good friend.”

“Just kidding. I wouldn’t worry about him if I were you. Blake might have been a big part of her life--”

“Can you stop saying that?”

“Sorry,” Isaac breathed out a laugh. “But believe me, H. What you two had then and what you have now cannot be replicated. Just believe in yourself.”

Isaac’s pep talk had somehow put Harry at ease, but only for temporary. When he finally said goodbye to Isaac and walked back to Y/N, the first thing she said to him was that she wanted to leave. He assumed she was tired. But her silence had maintained all the way to the car, and for the entire drive back to her place, which made him wonder what John Conall had said to her back at the party.

He knew how much she admired the man, so she should’ve been thrilled and gone on and on forever about meeting him. Was she really tired, or was she upset because she knew he had something to do with it? Shit. What if Isaac was right? She’d probably figured it out.

“I saw you talking to John Conall earlier,” he said as she unbuckled her seatbelt. They were right outside her building and he feared she would run off without answering him, but Y/N stayed still in the passenger seat.

“Tell me you didn’t do it,” she said, looking straight ahead.

"Kid..." his voice lowered.

She turned to him. He almost told her he’d done it for her, but when he looked into those big round eyes and saw his own reflection. He knew she didn’t want to hear a reason. She was disappointed and offended and hurt. So how could he look her in the eye and say he’d done it for her?

“I’m sorry,” Harry uttered, his eyes fell to her hand as he reached out to touch it, but she pulled away and got out of the car.

He parked it there and chased after her. “Wait, Bambi, wait!”

“Go home, Harry. I’m tired.” She walked faster to get away from him but he refused to give up and followed her into the building.

“Let's talk about it. Tell me how much you hate me. Yell at me! Just--”

“Oh, you want me to yell at you?” Y/N laughed angrily as she rushed up the stairs with him running right behind. “What pissed me off wasn’t you taking me to that party to put on that shit show but it was you underestimating me! You of all people!”

“I don’t!”

“You fucking do!” She stopped and turned around to stab a finger at him. “You think my book is shit and no literary agent would want me unless it was because of you!”

“No! I just wanted to help!” He quickly caught her hands, but she pushed him away and continued running. He followed, panting heavily. His heart was pounding against his chest but it wasn’t only because he was racing her up five floors.

“We’re not doing this again, Bambi!”

“Fuck no, we’re not! I can’t even look at you right now.” She stopped in front of her flat, catching her breath, but Harry took the key from her hand before she could unlock the door. “Hey, give it back!”

He straightened his arm to raise it high above his head. “Please let me apologise.”

“Harry," her expression hardened, "give me the key or we’re done.”

He knew she didn’t mean it, but she always said crazy things when she was angry, and he knew better than to upset her even more. He released a sigh, put the key back into her hand, and before either of them could say another word, they heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

Blake stopped as soon as he realised that Y/N and Harry were fighting.

“Hi, Blake,” she said and walked straight into her flat, leaving the door open for Harry.

The two men shared an awkward moment of silence in that hallway. But right as Blake opened his mouth to speak, Harry immediately followed his girlfriend.

He locked the door, standing with his back against it to watch her kick off her high heels and toss her clutch onto the floor. As she flopped down on the sofa and buried her head in her hands, he quietly approached.

She didn’t flinch, not even when he dropped down on his knees in front of her and took her hands away from her head.

“I’m sorry. Please look at me.”

She shook her head, her voice trembled, “you think I’m a loser…”

“No, baby, I don’t…”

He cupped her chin, tilting her face slightly upward so he could look her in the eye. His Bambi was already on the verge of tears. She tend to get softer when she drank and he’d always liked that, but not tonight, not right now.

Frowning, he tucked a strand behind her ear and spoke softly, “Conall asked me to attend his daughter’s birthday because she was a fan, so I asked him for a favour and sent him your manuscript. I didn’t ‘buy’ you a chance with him if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“He didn’t even read it, H,” she said at last, rubbing her nose.

“What?” His eyes went round.

“He said he did but he only lied to win you over.”

Harry stiffened at once. He turned away to curse under his breath and then cupped her cheeks. “I can’t believe he did that, baby. I’m sorry. We’ll find you another agent, yeah?”

“No.” She stood up, stepping away from him. “I will. You stay out of this. I don’t want to depend on my boyfriend, okay? I don’t want to drive his Ferrari, wear his Gucci clothes and live in his big mansion!”

When she mentioned his mansion, he was at a loss for words, and she immediately realised how bad it sounded as he’d just asked her to move in with him not so long ago.

“I’m sorry.” She stood with her head hung and a hand on her forehead. “I-I didn’t mean that. I just…”

“It’s okay. Maybe I should leave.”

Harry took a step forward, but Y/N got in the way. She caught his wrist before he could walk past her, and right before he could even think, she pressed her mouth against his. She kissed him hungrily. He didn’t bother to question and caught her effortlessly as she jumped and wrapped her legs around his waist. He took her tongue into his mouth, stumbling backwards until she hit the front door.

They kissed harder as she dug her nails into his broad back. She was only wearing a silk slip dress which made it easy for him to just pull it off and toss it somewhere in her living room.

Once her panties came off, she was completely naked, sandwiched between him and the door. Her bedroom was just a few steps away, but his mind was already clouded by the thought of fucking her against this door and having her scream his name so that all of her neighbours could hear it. Blake could hear it. And he believed she was well aware of his intention. But if anything, it only turned her on.

Y/N only broke the kiss once to unbutton his shirt and pull it off his shoulders. Their mouths collided again. She sucked on his tongue, tracing her palms across the ink on his chest, down to his abs and then to his cock, pulling it free as she pushed his pants right past his bum. Her fingers tightened around his hardened length, making him gasp and buckle his hips against her hand.

One arm locked around her waist, Harry fucked himself in sync with her slow strokes and snuck his other hand between them to squeeze her breast and tease her nipple.

“You’re so warm,” she moaned against his lips when his cock twitched in her palm and he slipped his fingers between their bodies to feel her arousal.

“So are you...And you’re dripping...God, fuck,” he inhaled deeply, dipping two fingers in with no trouble. Her mouth fell open as she started riding them while stroking his cock.

“I need it...Need you inside.” She tossed her head back, squirming. Their skin was slick with sweat, and he was too horny to pay attention to this uncomfortable position they were in. He kissed her hard on the mouth, looking down between them to watch her guide him to her hot entrance. She was so wet but also so tight, and the way she squeezed around the swollen head of his cock made him go frenzy.

He fucked her slow at first, not wanting to hurt her. But as she started thrusting down on him, he picked up the pace and fucked her harder. She was moaning his name just the way he wanted as he bent his knees to hit that spot over and over again. She felt so good around him that he could barely open his eyes, but he had to. He had to look at her face when she came.

“Say you’re mine,” he growled, making her nod rapidly.

“Yours. I’m yours.”

“Fuck yes, you are. And I’m yours. All yours.”

He fucked her hard and fast, not wanting this to end but she felt so good, he couldn’t help it. He slipped his hand down to rub her clit, making her hip jolt up only to drop back down on his dick, both of them groaned loudly.

When she came, she was chanting his name, gripping his shoulders tightly as he sucked a nipple into his mouth and chased his own orgasm. He fucked his cum into her, his forehead pressed against her shoulder as he tried to catch his breath and bring himself back down to earth.

After a moment, he slipped out. They stayed in that position and looked into each other’s eyes without exchanging a single word. His heart was like a drum, he could hear it beating in his ear as he waited for her to snap out of it and tell him to go.

But then she cupped his face and murmured, “let’s take a shower and go to sleep.”

Harry freaked out a little. “What about--”

“We can talk about it tomorrow, H. It’s fine.” She traced her finger along the bridge of his nose to calm him down and leaned in to give him a chaste kiss. “Let’s get some rest and then we’ll talk.”

He didn’t know if it was a good thing to wait until tomorrow, but if she said it was fine, then it should be fine.

“Okay. Tomorrow then.”

Smiling, Y/N rested her cheek on his shoulder and let him carry her into the bedroom.

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“Mr Whitney.”

“Y/N! Sit down, please.”

“Thank you, but it’ll be quick,” Y/N said as she put a paper folder on her English teacher’s desk.

Whitney looked up, beaming at the sixteen-year-old. “You’ve finished your book, I see.”

“It’s just the first few chapters actually. I want you to be the first to read it,” she said.

He picked up the folder, staring at it for a second before putting it in his bag. “I’ll read it tonight.”

That was all Y/N had wanted to hear. She’d always admired Whitney. Not only was he a great teacher, but he used to be a writer as well. She’d read some of his books, and they were so good it made her wonder why he was a teacher and not a famous author. Anyway, she was glad he was her teacher and she was his favourite.

On Tuesday of the following week, Y/N had another class with Whitney. She was so excited to finally read his feedback so she showed up at school earlier than usual. On the way to class, however, she ran into him.

“Y/N!”

Blake Roman, aka The Troublemaker. Why was he talking to her outside the classroom? And why was he even in school? He was always in the car park smoking and drinking with his mates. It was none of her business though. They weren’t friends.

“Gee, didn’t you hear me calling your name? Because everyone did,” Blake said as he finally caught up with her.

She didn’t look at him even though they were walking side by side. “We did one project together, Blake. We’re not friends.”

“We’re not. Promise.” He smirked but then grabbed her hand and spun her around. “I just want to give you this.”

Y/N was about to scold him for wasting her time, but when she saw what he was holding, she turned speechless.

“This is yours, right? Your name is on it. Anyway, I think it’s good, why did you throw it away?”

“Where did you find it?” She snatched the folder from his hand. He didn’t understand why she was mad, but it seemed like he knew that he shouldn’t have found this folder.

“In the car park,” he said.

“Where in the car park?” she asked, her eyebrows pulled together. Don’t worry, she told herself, Mr Whitney might have dropped it on the way to his car and--

“In the trash bin.”

Those three words felt like a hard kick in her stomach. Y/N exhaled sharply as her face twisted. “It couldn’t be...I-I gave it to Mr Whitney…”

Blake was quiet for a second. He was smarter than people assumed he was, and it didn’t take him too long to figure out what was happening. He shoved his hand in his hair and released a long sigh as he muttered, “shit…”

Y/N said nothing else. She pushed right past Blake and stormed to Whitney’s classroom. Despite Blake calling out her name, she didn’t look back.

“Mr Whitney.”

She burst through the door. Her teacher didn’t notice she was acting differently so he said, “good morning, Y/N,” and continued organising his desk.

Y/N walked toward him, gripping the straps of her bag as she couldn’t stop thinking about Blake finding her folder in the trash bin. “Hey, um...I want to ask about my story. I wonder if you’ve read it.”

Whitney stilled for a second.

Her mother had told her that good liars only needed a second to come up with a good lie, and that was how she knew what he was about to say would make her hate him even more.

“Of course I’ve read it. But I haven’t got time to write you some comments.”

She supposed he would continue using that excuse until she forgot about the story and stopped bothering him.

As a few other classmates entered the room, Y/N faked a smile, thanked the teacher and went to her seat. The image of the man she’d been idolising for a whole year had crumbled down before her eyes, and not only did she felt extremely disappointed, she also felt bad about herself.

.

.

.

Y/N and Harry didn't get to have the conversation she’d promised in the morning. He’d got a work call at 5 AM and left before she woke up. He’d left her a text, saying he loved her and that they would talk when he got back so she decided not to think too much about it for now.

She’d already spent the whole night replaying the conversation with Conall inside her head. Although it had hurt her as much as what had happened a long time ago with her English teacher, she knew if she wanted to succeed, she must not give up easily.

It was Sunday, and she’d got no other important plans, so she decided to put those negative thoughts aside and start editing her manuscript.

After two hours of writing, her doorbell rang. She already could’ve guessed who it was, but she didn’t expect to see a sweaty Blake in his running clothes.

“This is embarrassing but,” he said, giving her a tired smile, “my shower broke. Can I use yours?”

“Yeah. Sure.” She agreed without reluctance.

“Thanks. I’ll go get my clothes,” Blake said and hurriedly went back to his flat.

Y/N supposed if Harry had been there, he would’ve said Blake was lying. But she’d lived in this estate long enough to know how awful the facilities were, and her shower had broken way too many times before so she knew the struggle was real.

The bathroom was in her bedroom, so while Blake was in the shower, she sat at her desk to work on the book. She was so concentrated that she didn’t even hear him come out.

“Hey,” his voice made her jump. They both burst of laughing as she shoved him away.

Blake apologised as he took a seat on the edge of her bed and looked at her laptop screen. “Oh, you’re writing a book?”

“I’m rewriting a book, actually.” She breathed, pinching her temple. “I thought I’d finished it, but it sucked so now I’m rewriting the whole thing.”

“Where are you at?”

“Chapter One.”

“Want some feedback?”

She turned to give him a smile. “Sure.”

He scooted over for her to bring her laptop to the bed and sit down by his side. Before handing it to him, she looked into his eyes and said with a serious expression, “I want your most honest and brutal comments. Do you think you can be honest and brutal?”

“I’m a law student, Y/N. That’s my job.” Blake cracked his knuckles, making her laugh. “Now, show me what you’ve got.”

.

.

.

For all those years Y/N had been in school, she had never been called to the principal's office. She was the type of student who followed the rules, got good grades and hoped it would get her into a good university after graduation. So when she heard her name on the speaker in the hallway, she believed it was only a big misunderstanding.

She walked to the assistant’s desk, her heart was beating so fast as the woman looked up and gave her a smile.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m here to—”

“Oh, Ms Y/L/N! Sorry for the misunderstanding,” the lady said, to her surprise. “Your friend said you had nothing to do with it and he’s taken all the blame. You can get back to class.”

“Wait, what?”

The door suddenly creaked open and Y/N was startled to see Blake walk out from the principal’s office. They held each other’s gaze for a full second and Blake was the first one to break it as he walked right past her, out of the room.

“What did he do?” she asked the lady who was shaking her head at the boy.

“He took Mr Whitney’s phone, locked him in the classroom and only let the poor man out once he’d read your story.”

Y/N was left speechless. Then she snapped out of it and rushed out of the room to chase Blake down the hall.

“Wait! Stop!”

He didn’t stop walking but he did slow down for her to catch up. “You’re chasing after me. How the table has turned.”

“Detention?” she asked, looking up to read his face but he didn’t look at her.

“Yeah.”

His one-word answer made her giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

“I can’t believe you locked a teacher in the classroom. That was childish.”

“Yeah, it was.” He agreed, laughing and scratching the back of his head. “But it worked. He left a lot of comments for your story.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I’ll give you back the folder later. I’ve read those comments by the way. They weren’t bullshit.”

“Thank you.” She shyly smiled, but he didn’t see it for he was staring straight ahead. They continued walking together and it was Y/N who broke the silence, “why did you do it? What’s in it for you?”

Blake took some time to think as he took a deep breath. “Well, nothing. Whenever I decide to help someone, I only need to find two good reasons to do it.”

“What are the two reasons in my case?” she asked when he sank back to silence.

He lifted his shoulders. “I’ve read the story and I think it’s great. I think you’ve worked hard for it and therefore deserve respect and recognition.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And the second reason?”

This time, he stopped and turned to face her at last. “I like you.”

“What?”

“That’s the second reason, Y/N. I like you.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond but instantly realised she didn’t know what to say. It seemed like he didn’t need her to say anything though. He only wanted to let her know.

“See you later.”

Blake waved goodbye and then he was gone, leaving her standing there like a scarecrow on an empty field. And for the first time in her life, her heart was racing for another boy.

.

.

.

Y/N finished three chapters with Blake’s help and it was only 3 PM. She had never been more productive and she wanted to continue, but Blake suggested that they should take a little break to relax and clear their minds.

“Thanks for helping me out,” she said, pouring him a cup of tea.

“You’re welcome.” He grinned.

Y/N watched him blow into his cup, staring attentively at the tattoo of her initial. They hadn’t met in three years, so why was he still so nice to her? She felt her stomach twist at the thought.

What if...

“Why are you doing this?” she blurted.

The question didn’t surprise Blake. He looked her in the eye as if he’d been expecting it and calmly said, “because I believe in you. If the shit bomb called Fifty Shades of Grey is a bestseller, then so should your brilliant book.”

What is the second reason, Blake? she asked herself when he sank back to silence.

But then her ringtone interrupted the conversation. She looked down at the screen and saw ‘BoYfRiEnD’.

“Excuse me.” Y/N grabbed the phone, but Blake got up at the same time she did.

“I better go,” he said. “Thank you for letting me use your shower.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” she said and watched him head back to the front door. “Thank you for today!”

Blake didn’t respond or even look back. And the door fell shut behind him.

.

.

.

Y/N was on the fence about telling Harry about today. She’d pondered it for the entire afternoon after the phone call with him, and eventually decided to be honest because there should be no secrets between them.

Harry came over at around 7 PM. He looked exhausted, but went straight to her for a kiss and gave her the flowers he’d bought on his way back from the film studio.

“Before you say anything, I just want to say I’m very very very sorry,” he whispered, hugging her waist. “I know I’m...too much sometimes. It could be overwhelming to be with me. I wasn’t good at being in a relationship in the past, and I’m trying not to let my mistakes ruin us again. I’m being too careful and...I’m well aware that I’m driving you away by trying too hard to not disappoint you. I’m gonna change, I promise. Please be patient with me.”

She waited for him to finish and pecked him on the lips, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m not Mr Finny or Ruby, love. I’m your Bambi. I’m not gonna leave you because you love me too much. But you still gotta have more faith in yourself, in me, and also us.”

Harry nodded fast and nudged her nose with his. “I didn’t know Conall wouldn’t even read it...If I had known, I wouldn’t have asked for his help.”

“It’s okay. Let’s forget about it,” she sighed. “I’ve rewritten the first three chapters today. Would you like to read it?”

“Sure.”

“Blake came over this morning and helped me.”

When Harry pulled away to arch an eyebrow at her, she dissolved into laughter. “Relax, babe. His shower broke so he asked to use mine.”

“His shower broke?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the lamest excuse people use in porn.”

“Harry.” She glowered and he rolled his eyes, letting out a long breath.

“Okay, sorry.”

Y/N playfully smacked his shoulder before kissing his cheek and pulling him to the sofa. They sat down together as she turned on her laptop.

“Does he know the main character is me?” he asked. “Because you should tell him the next time he comes over because ‘his shower broke again’.”

Seeing him do the air quotes made her cackle. “I think he knows. It’s clear that I’m so in love with you,” she said, placing the laptop on his lap and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Good girl.” He grinned. “Someone deserves to have their pussy eaten tonight.”

Y/N quickly pulled away. “Okay, I love you except for when you ruin romantic moments with stupid sex jokes.”

“It’s not a joke if I’m actually gonna eat your pussy tonight. But you know what? I’m actually hungry now.”

“Just read the damn story, asshole.” She laughed, grabbing his face and turning it back to the laptop screen. 

[mcwriting]

starstruck (8)

Hellooooo... sorry I didn’t post this on Friday, I was super busy all day/night finishing up my summer college course + other stuff. I haven’t finished 9 yet so it should go up next week :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Fandom: Tom Holland

Ship: Tom x reader

Setting: LA, Seoul

Word Count: 1964

Warnings: maybe some mild language idk

Rating: K+

                             __________________________________

Tom burst through the door of the hotel room being used as a lounge for his and his castmates’ teams while they did press.

He was late, and his management stood up as soon as they noticed him.

“Thomas! Where have you been? We’ve been calling all morning! This isn’t a good look,” his publicist started.

“Yeah we’ve been having to make excuses for over a half hour for you. Everyone else started interviews ten minutes ago. Let’s get you in there,” the manager continued.

“No,” Tom replied blankly. 

“What?” they asked at the same time.

“I said no. I’m not doing things on your volition anymore. I’m tired of disappointing people and living a fake life just because you two have decided against the things I want to do. I’m sorry to do this right now, but you’re both fired.”

“You can’t be serious Tom. You know me! I’ve been with you for years!” his now ex-manager said.

“Yeah, come on. Who’s going to keep you relevant without me?” the former publicist asked.

“I think I’ll be able to manage just fine by myself, and if I want new help I’ll find someone better than both of you. You two have been jeopardizing my personal life for far too long in the name of fame and I can’t stand for it any longer. Harry will arrange for you two to get to your homes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go do my job.”

With that, Tom walked across the hall into the interview room, where he was met with a few cheers and the smiling faces of his costars.

                             __________________________________

“How are we gonna get her back to you?” Harrison asked late that night as everyone huddled around a table eating snacks. “I mean, I don’t think she’s going to come running back into your arms any time soon.”

The boys munched on chips and swigged Korean beer as they contemplated. Tom felt like a weight was off his shoulders now that he was free from his management.

“Doesn’t she have that friend? Maybe she could help us out.” Sam suggested. 

“I don’t know, man. Y/n said she’s a huge fan. But they’re also best friends. Would she even be willing to let me near y/n? And if so, do you think she’d keep a secret that big?” Tom replied.

“It’s worth a shot, innit? Maybe she’d understand?” Harry thought aloud.

After some deliberation, the boys settled on sending b/f/n a dm through Harrison’s instagram to seem slightly less conspicuous in case you happened to notice her dms.

They didn’t expect an immediate reply. Midnight in Seoul was 8 am in LA, but luckily b/f/n had woken up early to work out since you were going to her house later that day.

The message asked her to help you and Tom reconnect and hopefully reconcile in person, and asked her to keep it a secret.

She was shocked to say the least, and unsure of whether to trust them after the hurt you’d experienced, but finally answered back after a few minutes.

Okay. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I know I can get her to this formal next Friday night if you can make it. 

She sent a link to the page for the upcoming event. It was a fundraiser gala for people of all ages. The site said it was sold out, but Tom knew he could probably find a way in.

That’s perfect. All you need to do is get her there. And you absolutely cannot tell her any of this or the whole thing might be ruined

Oh believe me, I won’t. I honestly want this as much as you guys, she’s been super bummed still and I just want to see her happy again. I’ll try to get back to you with her dress color and stuff if you want to coordinate.

Perfect. We’ll be in touch.

The boys fistpumped and high fived as they planned out flights and scheduling and finding a way to get those tickets. Eventually, they retired to their respective hotel rooms, since Tom would have one last day of press before heading home.

                             __________________________________

Back in LA, b/f/n was now standing with you in her kitchen, watching you mix up some sauce for mac and cheese.

She leaned back against the counter as you stirred and added ingredients.

“Hey are you still going to the formal next Friday?” b/f/n asked.

“The what?” You didn’t look up.

“Remember? The big formal next week? All our friends are gonna be there.”

You thought about it for a second and then looked over at her as you turned off the stove burner.

“Oh my God. I totally forgot about that. I guess not since, 1: it’s probably sold out, and 2: I don’t have anything to wear.”

B/f/n smirked, turning to pick something up from behind her while you poured the sauce and pasta into a baking dish, topping it with breadcrumbs.

“Well I think I have the first thing covered…” she trailed, holding up two tickets.

“You didn’t,” you smiled, stepping away from the dish. “No way.”

“Yes, way. I figured you’d forgotten with everything going on and snagged one up, even though I was mad at you. Who else would I take as my date? It’s not like I have a boyfriend.”

You went up and hugged her.

“You are literally the best friend ever.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied proudly.

“But I still don’t have a dress. I don’t even know where to start,” you worried aloud as you put the pasta in the oven.

“Well… I kind of maybe looked up places at the mall that have dresses I know you’d like.”

“Oh my gosh. Is that why you want to go to the mall so bad? I can’t tell if I love or hate you for that.”

“You know you love me. Now how long is that mac and cheese gonna be? My stomach is growling.”

                             __________________________________

After your pasta lunch, b/f/n and you drove to the mall, where she took you to 3 different dress shops. You were relieved to find that no one had followed you, as it seemed interest in you had diminished after everything you’d said.

“I’m getting the feeling I’m not gonna find anything I like. Maybe we should just give up,” you suggested after almost two hours of trying things on.

“Come on. There’s one more place at this mall and I saved it for last because there’s a dress I think you’ll really like.”

She drug you through the building and up an escalator until you finally came upon the shop. There were some really pretty dresses in the window display, so you felt a little bit less nervous when you walked in.

An employee asked if you needed help upon entering. B/f/n showed her a screenshot on her phone, and the lady immediately led you towards the back of the store. She pulled a black bag from the rack and hung it on another one near the dressing rooms.

“I think this is the one you’re looking for. Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, walking off.

“Okay, y/n. Close your eyes so I can unzip the bag. I want to surprise you.”

You did as told, putting a hand over your face for good measure. You heard the zipper and some rustling before b/f/n told you to look.

You opened your eyes to find a long, navy, satin dress staring right back at you.

“Whoa,” you whispered, going up to inspect it closely.

It was beautiful. It had a classic ball gown shape with a slit up the thigh and a beaded lace bodice. The neckline was in a deep V and the straps came up and over your shoulders. The back was low cut and a thin strip of silver beads circumvented the waistline.

“Sooo… what do you think?” b/f/n questioned.

“I- b/f/n. This is incredible.”

“Wanna try it on?”

You nodded enthusiastically and stepped into a dressing room with it. After a good minute of struggling through the inner tulle layers, you finally got it secure and was able to zip it yourself.

When you stepped out of the room and saw yourself in the mirror, you gasped.

“Y/n. You look amazing. What do you think?”

You didn’t answer her because you were too focused on how you looked to even process what she said.

“How are you ladies do- wow. That’s a gorgeous look on you,” the lady from before said as she came around the corner.

She helped adjust it a little, seeing whether it needed alterations or not.

“You’re in luck. This fits you like a glove. It does seem a bit long, but I’m assuming you’ll wear heels?”

You nodded, still speechless.

“So? This the one?” b/f/n asked.

“Yes. Absolutely yes,” you returned, beaming.

“I’ll go ring you up, then,” the employee said, leaving you to take off the dress and put your normal, boring clothes back on. You’d initially been saving up to buy a dress, and still had the funds since forgetting about it.

You and b/f/n hauled the dress bag around like your lives depended on it as you went on a search for matching shoes.

It took another half hour or so of walking around stores and trying on heels before you found a pair.

They were strappy and silver and the perfect height for your dress length. You couldn’t believe your luck.

                             __________________________________

Now that you’d finally gotten everything, you and b/f/n headed to your house so you could show your parents, who were by then off work.

Your dad was fixing himself a snack when you both came in the door, you wrangling the dress over your head and her carrying the shoe box.

“Woah, girls. Whatcha got there?” he asked.

“Just my dress for the fundraiser formal next Friday…”

“Oh yeah I forgot about that. I think your mom and I will be skipping out this year but I’m glad you’re getting to go.”

“I forgot too until b/f/n reminded me. I’ll go put it on here in a minute. Where’s mom?”

“She’s in the office. Why don’t you surprise her?” he suggested, so you did exactly that. 

You quickly got the dress and shoes on (with b/f/n’s help) and tried to quietly come down the hall. It was difficult since your heels clacked, your dress swished, and you and b/f/n tried not to let out cackles.

You popped just your head in the office doorway.

“Hey mom. What are you up to?”

“Oh hey honey. I’m just filing some charts. I’m almost done. Why?” she replied, only looking up from the computer to initially address you.

“Well I just wanted you to see something. And by something, I mean this.”

You slid into full view, and your mother’s jaw dropped. B/f/n appeared in the doorway behind you.

“Sweetie, you look beautiful! Did you just get this today?” you nodded as she got up to look at the dress closer. “Is this for next week?”

“Yeah. B/f/n bought me tickets and then took me out to look at dresses today,” you slung an arm around her shoulder. “I basically have the best friend in the world.”

“Well I love it and I’m so excited to see you both dressed up together next week. I think this is the perfect symbol for new beginnings!”

With that you gave a “hear, hear!” in agreement.

                             __________________________________

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