#LIKE THEYRE ALL SO SMALL AND INNOCENT AND LOOK AT ALL THE TRAUMA THEYRE GOING THRU

[green-graveyard]

since when was s1 that sad and angsty

[vanchlo]

The Firsts / #1 “The First Time Meeting The Family”

ABOUT: A blurb series retelling the important firsts in the first year or so in Becks and Harry’s relationship, covering the gap between the end of The Assistant, and the beginning of its sequel, The Partner.

---> NEXT BLURB: I hope that I can put it out on October 4th, following the every other week rule, but I’m not sure with my busy schedule. Keep an eye out for updates on the series masterlist!

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST    

MAIN MASTERLIST            

READ ON WATTPAD

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

italics : a flashback in the story.

++ : a point of view change in the story. 

WARNINGS: Some mild language, and a small incidence of physical assault

WORD COUNT: 10.9k words (!!!)

SONG:  A Love Like This by Ben Rector  (CLICK TO LISTEN AND I KNOW I USE TOO MANY OF HIS SONGS BUT THEYRE SOOO ROMANTIC)

                           * SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

“Always, baby - protect you, save you- you name it and ‘ll be there,” Harry coos with the softest of smiles, tracing with his thumb the new red lines that litter my face in places. “Always,” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss the place under my eye where my birthmark sits, and beside it a new scar that he’s kissed more times than I could count.

I could never keep track of how many times I’ve looked at him and silently said those three words that once itched to jump off of my tongue and into his ears. The very three that sit in his eyes, just for me.

“No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you gotta keep grinding. And that’s how we’re gonna win. We’re gonna win and anyone that gets in our way? Well, God help them.” - Dean Winchester, Supernatural

+

The phone rang with a shrill bringggggg!, yanking a sigh from my lips.

Another one.

Another sigh.

Another call.

It’s just another normal day for me.

After sliding back on the mask that I so often wear within these walls, I at last leave my office and the phone that tends to keep ringing off the hook. Ignoring it and letting the answering machine take it this time, my heels click-clack on the dark tiled floor, a sound I had long ago become accustomed to.

Yet another sound is that of the hot coffee churning into my mug from the Keurig in the break room, and the splash of the creamer I pour in next. 

A sound that I don’t think I could ever get used to, nor would I want to become mundane, is that of the breathy giggle trickling out from my open office when I return. He doesn’t see me yet, but I see him as I take a page from his book and lean in the doorway to watch him. Steam wafts across my smiling lips before the coffee meets them, my eyes fixed on the back of his tousled curls. 

“It’s about time your meeting finished,” I announce, returning to my stride as I close the door. Setting down the hot mug on the corner of my desk, I tread over to my chair and let my arms wind around his neck from behind. 

“Yer tellin’ me,” he nearly scoffs, switching apps on his phone quickly. 

“What are you being secretive about, hmm, Harry?” I tease with a peck to his satiny smooth cheek. 

“Oh, nuthin’, I jus’ wanted t’ check tha weather. Reckon we’re in fer some sun this weekend, yet anotha thing that’s overdue. We should go on a hike or sumthin’ Sunday, but we might need our Wellies.” 

“You say that I’m a bad liar, but you should know that so are you,” I huff against his cheek, catching a whiff of his aftershave’s notes of cucumber and aloe vera. 

“I dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout, Becks,” he insists with a measly shrug of his shoulders, but he tries to act like I can’t hear the slight snicker in his voice, or see the red appearing in his cheeks. 

“Fine, I give up . . We should get cracking on those testimonies already, seeing as now I’m done waiting on you.” 

“Agreed. ‘m gonna go grab a cuppa, and ‘ll meet you in me office. ‘Kay?” Harry responds, standing to his feet, and turning around to face me. The smile falling into my cheeks is instantaneous at the mere sight of him, making me realize that I somehow missed him for the last three hours he was in his meeting. Well, I wouldn’t be wrong to say that I’m most definitely spoiled getting to work with my boyfriend for nearly every second for five days a week. My dream at last came true. “Wait, I thought you were gettin’ sick o’ me earlier? ‘sn’t that right, bug?” he poses with a perfect raise of his eyebrows, taking a step towards me. 

“I uh, dunno what you’re talking about.” 

“Yer a bloody terrible liar, still dunno why ya think I can’t sniff ‘em out on you,” he smirks, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he taps my nose. The tall white roses on his baby pink slacks billow with every step of his, only worsening my giggle. “Becks, Becks, Becks,” he tuts with a shake of his growing curls. My lips sparking with a happy nervousness bring out the dimples in his cheeks. 

“What, Harold?”

“Dunno how many times ‘ve told ya not t’ call me that,” he exhales with a wag of his finger, only a few steps between myself and the door now. 

“But Rory gets to call you that!” 

“He doesn’t get t’ call me anythin’, bug. Rory doesn’t listen t’ a fookin’ word I say, so he’s not goin’ t’ start callin’ me by me real name fer tha first time in eight years, I don’t think,” he chuckles, and I let an eye roll slip, but not quick enough. “Ya betta watch it now, and my bloody God, Rebecca Holte, you best put that pout away befo’ I-.” 

“Before you what, Harry?” I tease with a cock of my head. 

“Y’know yer pushin’ me buttons, right? Oh wait, yer fully aware o’ that, arentcha, Becks? I can see tha look on yer face right now, y’know yer diggin’ yerself a hole here, babe,” Harry tuts, continuing to wag that finger at me until my back meets the door and he lays his hands above my head to steady himself. “And, t’ answer yer question - reckon ya won’t get any kisses fer tha rest o’ tha day if yer gonna be a brat,” he shrugs with full composure, sliding a hand to my back that he presses on to come closer to him. “Make this one last,” he whispers, leaving a kiss on my forehead before opening the door. 

“Harry!” I exclaim, whirling around to find him already escaping down the hallway. 

His hearty laugh wanders down to grace my ears, and then, he turns around with that smart grin on his face, “‘m jus’ grabbin’ a new cup o’ coffee, ‘ll meet you in me office, love,” he calls back ever so innocently, almost running into one of Asher’s blokes from IT. Groaning, I imitate his typical stance of leaning against the doorway with crossed arms, watching his figure become all the smaller as he stops to talk with Amelia and then to Jennings with an always cheerful smile. 

At times, it still boggles me how different things are, although it’s difficult to remember how things were before. How they were when my view every day was this very hallway from my measly desk sat at the end of it. It makes it all the harder to remember how much I longed for, how it tore me apart, and not just that, but how different of a person he was. I wasn’t the same either - I started off cold and brash with him, as did he, and I could never entertain the thought of what things would be like if he hadn’t warmed up to me, as well. 

Memories flash in front of me as the sofa molds to my body, like all of the other times, followed by the thud of my heels falling to the floor. With a blink, I’m propelled back to the days when I’d be scared to set foot in this office, his. Now, I can’t imagine feeling anything other than safe to be in here. Despite the traumas that took place inside of these four walls, my lips curl up at the thought of the lovely things that were born in here as well. The hidden kisses. The beginning of our friendship. Our first hug. My beginnings as a lawyer, and so much more that warms me from the inside.

My, all of the firsts that we have had.

+

Pulling my cardigan around me tighter, I round a corner and then another, hoping I’m at least going in the right direction. The images keep flashing before my eyes - the silence that fell over the room when he entered it, a completely different person than the one that I know. A pride that I want to deny and forget still clings to my body and every thought that I have. So often, I find myself hating him, and yet I couldn’t have been more proud sitting in that room and watching him do what he does best, argue. 

Coming to a halt, I look around for a sign to tell me where I’m going, in the hopes that the front doors are somewhere near. Shaking my head, I take another left on a whim, and regret it within a matter of moments. 

“Holte?” comes a voice from ahead of me. Glancing up, I freeze in my place before my feet try to scurry away. “What tha bloody hell are you doin’ here, and where are you goin’ so fast?” they say, almost making a sound. A laugh, perhaps?

“I was just uh, meeting a friend.” 

“Since when do friends meet at a courthouse?” he asks with skewed eyebrows, his steps ending in front of me. His hand full of rings cards through his long curls, and my, they only look better up close. 

“My friend . . works here.” 

“Oh ‘s that so? What department do they work in?” he continues, the dimples slowly finding their place in his cheeks, especially as the words fleet me. “Yer lyin’ t’ me arentcha, Holte?”

“Fine, I wanted to come and watch you argue your case, since you were making a big deal out of how important it is,” I sigh, turning around and placing my back to him. 

“Hey, you. Wait!” he calls, and I soon feel his rings against the flesh of my bicep. “What’s tha rush?” he titters, and when I turn around, this all only gets all the more weird. 

“What, is it a crime to come and watch you in action?”

“No, so why’re you actin’ like yer doin’ sumthin’ yer not s’posed t’ do?” he smirks. “Huh, Holte?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Styles,” I sigh, wishing I could sneak a look at his fingers gentle around my arm to prove that it’s real, but . . that would give it away and perhaps make him stop. That’s the last thing I want, even though two seconds ago, I thought that running into him here was the last thing I wanted. Now, I’m not so sure. I should have known that this would happen, though. “You were great, you know,” I say slowly, a smile mirrored on his reddening face. 

“Thank you,” he responds quietly, looking away and regrettably, letting his hand fall from my arm. “I didn’t know you were there . . watchin’ me.” 

“I wasn’t planning on it . . but I’m glad that I came and spent my lunch break watching you.” 

“Me too,” he replies softly, his bottom lip escaping to between his teeth. 

“Well, good luck and I’ll see you at work, I guess.” 

“Ya, you too, Holte. Thanks,” Harry says, and I find it painful to walk away from him now, and awkward. Sighing, I find a hallway in each direction when I reach the corner, and take one at random. 

“Tha main entrance ‘s tha other direction, Holte,” Harry giggles, and I stop in my tracks, hearing his familiar Saint Laurent boots click-clack on the tiled floor. “Here, I was jus’ goin’ t’ lunch, I can show you tha way.” 

“No, I’m okay.” 

“No, please. Let me,” he insists, and when I steal a glance at him he’s pushing back the dark sleeve of his smooth black blazer to look at his watch. I’m left wondering which was more expensive, the suit or the watch. “I was jus’ poppin’ ova t’ a restaurant down tha street fer lunch, if ya’d like t’ join me, yer welcome t’.” 

Gulping, I quickly look away and to the ground where he can’t see my eyes threaten to pop out of my skull. Did he really just ask me to get lunch with him? What should I say? Wouldn’t it be awkward? What would we even talk about? I should say no, he’s probably just being nice. 

“I um . . “

“‘ll take that as a yes then,” he pipes up eagerly, accompanied by the sound of his booming steps. “Hurry up, Holte, time’s a tickin.’ I reckon this ‘s tha only time you’ve been in these walls, so ‘ll be kind enough t’ show ya t’ tha front doors, even tho’ me car ‘s on tha otha side.” 

Because of course he would say that, Mr. Hotshot Lawyer who is cocky, annoying, frustrating, full of himself, bossy, rude- 

“Thank you,” I say, interrupting my thoughts and taking a plunge, right into those deep green eyes that land on me, and to my surprise, with a smile. 

“Welcome, Holte.”

+

“Thank you,” he says with a rose colored smile to the server, plucking the black book from the middle of the table before I could even think to grab it first. With a quiet sigh, I watch him fish out his wallet and slide a sleek credit card out from a sleeve, stuffing it into the small pocket inside the book, without even a glance inside. “What’s yer problem?” he huffs, chewing on the mint-flavored toothpick and pointing his eyes at me. His eyebrows do all of the talking that stops me from refusing. 

“You don’t have to pay for me, I can pay for my own meal,” I insist firmly, touching my wallet that I had pulled out and placed next to my dwindling glass of water. 

“I know that,” he begins with strength in his voice, and I worry that I just offended him. I’m afraid it could erase the memorable first meal we just had together of brunch, talking about his case and actually finding out things that he likes and enjoys. “But I would like t’ treat you, and I did invite you after all,” he finishes, smiling briefly when the server returns the book. Sliding out his credit card, he replaces it in his wallet and instead grabs a few bills that he tucks into the black book. “Goin’ t’ argue with me some mo’, are we?” 

“No.” 

“Good choice,” Harry replies, and when he meets my eyes across the round wooden table, I think that I may see him smile at me. 

“But-.” 

“And what tha bloody hell d’ya want now?” he grins, propping his chin on his upheld fist, his cheeks round from his smile. 

“Maybe I wanted to pay for your meal too.” 

“You can tha next time, love. Alright?” he replies softly. When he tears his eyes away to glance at his dinging phone, something stirs inside of me and I wish I could make him look at me like that again. I wish I could create another moment where it feels like he actually likes me. 

“On one condition.” 

“What’s that, love?” he asks with that breathy laugh of his I’ve only heard a few times now, and never has it been because of me. 

“You go back to calling me Becks . . no more ‘Holte,’” I announce slowly and carefully, because if I said them too fast or not just right, I’m afraid that they may break altogether and ruin it. One corner of his mouth reaches higher up his cheek, and I think that for the first time, I’ve made him smile all on my own. “I like it when you call me that.”

“I like it too, darlin’. Reckon ya could be a good lawyer, y’know, with that convincin’ face o’ yers, yer hard t’ say no t’,” he answers, standing to his feet and sliding on his coat, waiting for me to do the same. Does that mean my puppy dog eyes worked on him, fucking finally? 

“Thank you, Mr. Styles.” 

“Yer not allowed t’ call me that anymo’ then,” Harry says, looking back over his shoulder at me, a few steps ahead of me now. 

“Okay,” I agree softly, and the breath hitches in my throat when his eyebrows raise at me with the smallest of smirks. “Harry.” 

“Good, I like tha sound o’ that betta.” 

“Me too,” I echo ever so quietly, stepping out into the fall air as he holds the door open for me, dreading the strange friendship of ours that will end in the next few moments. A friendship that I wish could live within the walls of the firm, and inside of my heart as something more. 

+

“Ya, that all sounds great. I can’t wait fer this weekend . . Ya, ‘ll ask her soon and let y’know . . Alright, bye,” I hear from down the hall in a happy lilt. Within moments, the smile I hear in his voice appears before my eyes, and somehow only grows brighter. 

“What are you smiling about? Oh, and what’s this you’re going to ask me?”

“I neva said I had sumthin’ t’ ask you,” he shrugs with a rosiness to his round cheeks, gliding into his office with his bottom lip held between his teeth. 

“Don’t be rude.”

“‘m not,” he giggles softly, stopping at his desk to grab his dark gray Macbook. 

“You don’t have me convinced, Mr. Styles,” I sigh, letting my chin fall into my hand as I open up my Google Docs. 

“Ah, I rememba when ya used t’ call me that, ‘s been awhile.” 

“You can say that again, and God, don’t get too big of a head about it,” I huff with an ironic laugh, feeling myself pulled down memory lane regrettably. “I was just thinking about that, and how much things have changed.” 

“Too true,” Harry hums, getting comfy beside me on the sofa while his Macbook blankets his face in a soft glow. “You were Holte and I was Mr. Styles or sir sumtimes. Talk ‘bout a bloody blast from tha past,” he tsks and I find myself nodding along with him. Glancing over to him, my eyebrows fall as my cheeks deceive me with a balmy warmth filling them. 

“What are you looking at me like that for?” I wheeze, my fingers drifting to my hair nervously. After all of this time, he can still make me blush like there’s no tomorrow. 

“What, I can’t admire me pretty girlfriend?” he scoffs with a shake of his head, booping my nose with his finger. Sometimes, I really still can’t believe that I get to be called that by him.

“I guess you can.” 

“Reckon ya should be nicer t’ yer boss, miss. ‘m tha person who signs yer checks,” he tuts while I admire the beauty of his side profile, still trying to get used to how he looks without a beard. Give him back his long hair and it would be like the beginning all over again, although I’m not sure why I keep thinking back to then. I’m not even positive if it’s a good or bad nostalgia. 

“Hey!” 

“Hey!” he returns in a high pitched voice, imitating me, I suppose. His bubbly laugh soon follows and so do those olive greens that return to me, quite possibly my favourite color in all of existence. “Look at us, bug, back where it all started, aren’t we?” he coos, pulling me into his side and pressing his lips to my head in a loud smooch. 

“Mmmhmm, better than ever.” 

“Yes, we are. A new beginnin’ o’ sorts, Becks. I dunno how I got so lucky with you,” he winks and thumbs at my chin, his lips only a breath away. 

“I think I’m the lucky one.” 

“No, that’s me,” he argues with his trademark breathy laugh, and before I get two words out, my comeback is smothered with a kiss. I really did get lucky, luckier than little old me ever thought I would, or could. 

God, I’m so proud of her - the old Becks. Him, too. The new us, and especially the old us. We earned this.

+

“Woman, I swear t’ bloody God if ya send me one mo’ bleedin’ photo o’ a puppy ‘stead o’ writin’ yer brief, imma boot you outta me office and yer not allowed back.”

“Harry!” I scoff after a sound of disbelief, my eyes tearing away from the Google search and to him. His chin is held in his palm while he taps his temple with his pointer finger, eyebrows raised in a silent question at me. “You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, you wanna try me, Holte?” he returns with his eyes narrowed at me, giving me a nod.

Huffing, I look away and back to my laptop, to a screen filled with photos of golden retriever puppies. “Y’know, you’ll seal yer fate if ya roll those pretty eyes at me.”

“I won’t,” I grumble softly, closing out of the tab sadly.

“Good girl,” he hums, tapping the corner of my laptop from above. Looking up, his green eyes draw me over, but I don’t let them pull me in. “Good girl listenin’ t’ yer boss, bug,” he finishes with a wink. 

“Don’t call me that, you know I don’t like it,” I retort curtly, switching tabs to my brief where the cursor stares back at me, daring me to try my hand at it. 

“But ’s cute, brings back good memories. I like tha name, ’s yer last name. Rebecca Holte,” he teases, nosing at my cheek that grows warmer with every word he speaks. 

“For you it does, not me, Harry,” I almost snap, closing the laptop with a sudden clap! He clears his throat and the sound is followed by that of his velvet black Chelsea boots backing up. Spiegel im Spiegel floats from his iMac across the room, a black folder sitting in front of it with now forgotten documents. 

“‘m sorry, Becks, it wasn’t tha best o’ times fer me either . . ,” Harry says softly. I wouldn’t have to even look and I know that his lip is held between his teeth like a vice. At my eye level, he twirls a red gemstone ring around a finger, much like I do when something is itching at my insides annoyingly. 

“It was the best of times and the worst of times, somewhat minus the best part,” I mumble, picking at the Coldplay sticker already peeling from the lilac case of my laptop. 

“Hey, it wasn’t all that bad when ya think o’ tha good parts, babe. Tacos at Pedro’s, stayin’ late drinkin’ wine coolers togetha, tha Halloween party, all o’ our games o’ Scrabble, takin’ you t’ that charity ball with the masquerade theme, and meeting me best friend in tha whole entire world.” 

“You know how to work the floor, you know that?” I say gently, smoothing down the sticker with the back of my fingernail. 

“Looks like we need anotha night at mine, paintin’ our nails togetha,” he pipes up, but when I remain silent, he returns to my comment that he so easily ignored. “Well yes, yer datin’ a lawyer here, bug. That’s how I swept you off yer feet, dontcha rememba?”

“I dunno about that,” I giggle, ever so slightly, distracted by his hands that come into view and his rings that I bother with. At last, I find those green eyes waiting for me, just as they always do. 

“Hey, why tha long face, my love?” he coos sadly, eyebrows bent beneath the weight of his words. “‘m sorry t’ upset you, ‘m not gonna kick you outta me office, y’know I couldn’t handle you bein’ gone eitha.” 

“I know,” I titter softly, sliding off his silver ring dotted with little figures and placing it on my thumb where it still hangs loose. 

“I like tha name, maybe even fer a boy one day . . Holte,” he muses happily, but I can’t find any words that I’d be willing to say. Instead, I pry the jewelry from my hand and swiftly glide it back onto his. “Altho’ I reckon I treated you like shit when I called you that.” 

“Just a bit.” 

“‘m sorry t’ drudge tha memory up like I did,” he whispers, only feeding the awkward tension waiting in the air. His lanky figure leaves its place in front of me, reminding me of the money tree sitting across me by the window, an ironic gift from Myles last month. “Can I help you with yer brief, li’l one?” Harry continues, the cushion underneath me dipping with his weight. I nod before I even feel his hand squeeze my adjacent shoulder and pull me into his side with a lasting kiss to my forehead. “Love you.” 

“I love you too,” I echo, tipping my head to his shoulder as he lifts the closed laptop from my lap. Laying back, he props it on his spread lap as I snuggle into his side. 

“I like what ya have so far, I think yer inna good spot. How ‘bout this, next we . . . . ,” Harry says after reading the document, but with his greens back in sight and that dimple threatening to pop loose, I find it hard to listen to a word he says while staring up at him. My boyfriend. Can you believe it, Becky? “You even listenin’ t’ me there?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just hard to when you’re so cute.” 

“Bloody hell,” he chuckles with rosy cheeks, the dimples loud and proud at the helm of his smile. “Alright, let’s take a break from goo-goo-gaga land for a few, Ms. Holte, and work on yer brief fer yer case that’s bein’ heard next week. Alright?”

“Alright,” I sigh with a slight pout that he sees instantaneously with a shake of his head. 

“Shall I entice you? Dunno why I should hafta, but I guess we all need a li’l bit o’ bribery e’ry now and then,” he smirks, finishing his words with a wink. “My Becks likes bribes.” 

“Oh and what, you don’t, Ha-,” the giggle flows from my lips, and is yanked in by his that silence my words. Sometimes, I really do wish that I could tell The Old Me about how good it gets, and to hold on, because it may be a bumpy ride, Old Becky, but it’s going to all pay off in the end.

+

“Bloody hell, no wonder ya’ve had t’ pee ten times t’day. Chill on tha caffeine, would ya?” somebody gripes from behind me, but it falls away when their arms come around my middle, soon nosing at my neck. 

“Hey, I gave into coffee long ago. It owns me by now,” I return, closing the top to the Keurig. After pressing a few buttons, the machine begins to whir and spit out the dark liquid. My neck tickles from his warm breaths behind me, and the feeling of his lips. 

“Becks?”

“Yeah, Harry?” I respond, my hands finding their way to surround his that lay clasped over my belly. The tip of his middle finger ghosts over my several inch scar, making me wonder when he had memorized it in his mind. 

“My mum ‘s comin’ t’ visit this weekend, t’ see Gemma and tha kids, and me. She’s comin’ over t’ mine Saturday mornin’ fer brekky . . and I was uh, wonderin’ if ya’d like t’ join us? If ya’d like t’ meet me mum at last? She hasn’t stopped askin’ t’ meet you fer tha last two months.” the words leave his lips in an announcement, taking away all else and no longer do I feel his hands on my stomach or hear the churning of the coffee. Turning around, his dimples live far away and so does his bottom lip that’s trapped between his teeth, telling me that I’m not the only one being consumed by my nervousness. “I reckon she’s mo’ excited t’ see you than she ‘s t’ see me,” Harry chuckles but the light on his lips sputters out when I tear my eyes away from his hopeful ones. 

“Harry, I . . “

“What ‘s it, Becks?” he whispers. My eyes close when he noses against my cheek, his next words crawling along my neck. “Y’know she’ll love you, ‘ssa given, babe.” 

“How can she love me when she hasn’t even met me?”

“‘Cuz yer so lovable, that’s why,” he insists from below my ear, mouthing at the hollow that lives there. “Why’re ya so nervous, babe? I reckon this ‘s a piece o’ cake compared t’ how I met yer bloody parents, in hospitals o’ all places.” 

“Yeah, I shouldn’t complain,” I respond quietly, but that’s all that I can think of when we pull apart at the sound of a voice from behind the break room door. Clearing my throat, I turn back to my mug of coffee where the last few drops plop into the steaming liquid. 

“Promise you it’ll be okay. There’s nuthin’ t’ be nervous ‘bout, she’s tha sweetest woman ‘ve ever met- well, besides you that ‘s,” Harry says quietly, eyes wandering between our guest and me. “‘s jus’ brekky and if ya like, dinner at me sista’s that night too.” 

“Two in one?” I exclaim, setting down my coffee and turning to face him where he leans against the counter. The smirk painted across his face spreads to his shoulders that he shrugs ever so smugly. “God, Harry, bombard me much?” I sigh sarcastically with a shake of my head, turning away from him and watching how the coffee does somersaults when I pour creamer into it. 

“Well? Ya aren’t jus’ gonna leave me hangin’ there, Becks, are you?” he plods on, pulling at the cuff of my blazer impatiently while one of the blokes from IT rummages through the refrigerator. 

“I dunno, Harry, meeting two family members in one day is a lot to ask of me,” I tut jokingly with my lips pressed into an uncertain line. The disappointment on his face melts away when I find his greens with my own again. “Of course I’ll meet your mum, but I’m supposed to have dinner with Skye and her parents Saturday night, so I can’t make it to your sister’s, I’m sorry. It seems to be a popular weekend for parents to come into town.” 

“Oh, I rememba you mentionin’ that now. ‘m sorry, I forgot. No worries on meetin’ me sista, she lives in town y’know, so we’ll jus’ find anotha day,” he agrees in a soft voice, brushing it off expertly. “Yer not gettin’ outta that one that easily, Becks,” he teases, pointing a finger at me that I push away. 

“If you meet Skye’s mum, I’ll meet your sister. Sound like a deal?”

“Skye’s mum?” he questions, crossing his arms over his chest with knotted brows. I almost giggle at the confusion swept over his face until the bulging of his muscles beneath the arms of his button up pulls me in and far away. Once again, this man really does know what he’s doing to me, even when he’s not exactly aware of it. 

“Yes,” I exhale, dragging my eyes back to my tan colored coffee. Finished with the creamer, it closes with an excited snap! “I was nervous for you to meet my mum, although I never thought it’d happen, but I’m more about you meeting Eliza, Skye’s mum. She’s more of a mum to me than mine ever was, always letting me sleep over when things got bad with mine, and Robbie too. I’d really like for you to meet her, maybe lunch or something while she’s in town the next few days.” 

His eyes are soft and light dances within them, just for me. “‘Course, bug, ‘d love t’ meet her. She sounds lovely, and so would lunch with her and Skye. Altho’ ‘m not sure how somebody who birthed Skye could be lovely,” he jokes and quickly laughs when my jaw slackens. “‘m bloody jokin’ and whateva ya do, don’t tell her I said that,” he chuckles, enjoying this far too much than he should be. 

“You’re really going to be in for it with Skye now,” I giggle with a dismissive shake of my head as I lift the mug to my lips. 

“What’s new?” he asks with his hands held out in front of him, leaving my side to grab a Styles and Lawson mug from the cabinet, identical to my own. “I thought you and Rose didn’t like our mugs, so why d’ya keep usin’ ‘em, hmm?”

“I dunno, they have . . good handles.” 

“Sureeeee, Becks,” he tuts as the K-Cup falls into the holder with a signifying pop! “So, Saturday then?” he says nonchalantly while placing the mug under the impending stream of caffeine. He continues his trained practice of his voice dipping when the bloke gets too close to us- Brian, I think it is, I can’t remember. He really does know what he’s doing, this man of mine. 

My name on his lips rouses me from my overactive thoughts and pulls my eyes over to his and his already five o’clock shadow, distracting me from the clang! of the door closing. “What should I wear?” I wonder aloud with placid lips that only move to imitate the emotion yanking his towards the heavens. 

“You’ll look gorgeous in absolutely anythin’, bug, and ‘s jus’ brekky. Please, ya don’t hafta worry ‘bout meetin’ her, she’s so easy t’ get on with. ‘s like she already knows you from everythin’ ‘ve told her ‘bout you over tha years.” 

“Wow, no pressure or anything,” I exhale loudly, glad to have the room back to ourselves, and for the way his arms lull the monsters away. “Do I even want to know what you’ve told her?”

“I dunno, sumthin’ along tha lines o’ how ‘m in love with this girl, and have been fer awhile now,” he coos into my ear, zings sent down my spine when his lips brush my earlobe. The next words stop in their tracks on my tongue and my arms stop halfway to wrapping around him. 

“Wait,” I begin lightly, taking a step back and wishing I could in this conversation. “You’re in love with me?” I say tentatively, the front of his blazer grounding me to this moment when my fingers grab onto it. 

“I thought that you knew . . that it went without sayin’,” he giggles with cheeks resembling apples, both by shape and color. “I couldn’t be anythin’ other than that, Becks.” 

“Huh,” I hum absently, admiring the threads of each white flower that climb from the sides of his slacks and all the way up to his lapels between my fingers. 

I think I lose my grasp on them when his lips attach themselves to my forehead, and I just hope that he can’t feel the racing of my pulse all the way up there. That may not be possible, but to feel the way his lips curl against my skin is, and a whisper of a laugh. 

“Reckon ‘s time we have a li’l argument over who’s been in love with tha other fer longer, innit?” Harry begins before a kiss brings an end to his words, their sound whisked away by a long silence that I fear. “Ya don’t hafta say it back y’know, I won’t-.” 

“It’s not you,” I interrupt, my fear quickly being allotted to the same emotion that wipes his face clean. “The winner, I mean. I’ve been in love with you far longer, that’s for sure.” 

“Can ya maybe not gi’mme a bloody heart attack there?” he giggles, clutching at his chest. 

“What, I rarely get the chance to one up you, so I have to take it!” I exclaim and my eyes grow wide when I see the look on his face. One of his signature looks. A squeal tickles the air when he lifts me off of my feet and into the air. “Harry Styles!” 

“What, Rebecca Ann?” he titters after a few spins, soon setting me down on my feet. My lips have only parted when he silences them with his, and I wonder how I went from dreaming a dream that I knew could never exist and now, getting to live it every second of every day. 

“I think I fell in love with you when I saw you get off that lift,” I begin, looking away shyly, but he doesn’t let me get away with it, lifting my chin with his finger. He may let me get away with loads of shit, but no, not this time. “That night in Madley, at the hospital . . . but I think I had fallen in love with you a little bit loads of other times before, and not known it.” 

“I swear, woman, tha amount o’ times ya make me fall fer you all over ‘gain,” Harry wheezes with damp eyes, shaking his head with the largest contradicting smile. “C’mere, my love . . Bloody hell, I think ya win this one, ‘cuz I can’t even rememba tha moment I fell fer you, ‘s been so many times fer me as well. Reckon I prolly told me mum each time they happened too.” 

“Saturday should be fun then,” I joke from the corner of his neck, relaxing with my exhale against him. 

“Yes, it shall. Until then, let’s get goin.’”

“What, where?” I giggle, finding the glitter in his eye that I have a hard time remembering them being without. 

“‘s Tuesday, silly,” he titters with dimples shining, and face skewed into a confused question. “Let’s go get our tacos. ‘ll even buy ya extra churros.” 

“That’s the only reason I’m going,” I joke, feeling him squeeze my hand. When I look over to him, I find those warm greens painting their happiness all over me. 

“Don’t be bloody rude,” he chuckles with a shake of his head, holding the door open for me. 

Although this impromptu ‘meeting the parents’ gig is eating away at my nerves, I can’t help but grow in excitement at the idea of meeting the very person I have to thank for him. 

My God, I have my whole world to thank her for.

+

We had fallen into our own routine at work and quickly, but that was due to ‘push came to shove’ and there was no real way around it. Much to my mortification, Harry had told me that while in the hospital Myles had informed the rest of the legal team at the firm that we were dating, and so they knew. There wasn’t any way around it really, trying to explain why Harry was also gone for the same length I was from work, and suddenly. Regardless, Harry and I still avoided acting like we were dating, and at times I let it get to me, dwelling over the fact that everybody knew our secret. It was fun at first to keep, but it grew out of hand swiftly. It frustrated me often and I think it did the same for Harry, refraining from hugging when a team meeting went well or we won a case. The rules of the courtroom were far stricter, but it still upset me at times. 

Like now, seeing how Amelia’s substitute was flirting it up with Harry, unbeknownst to him. It’s not like I could exactly walk up to them and tell her to stop, although it bothers me how her flirting goes through one of his ears and out the other while he shows her how to do something at the front desk. 

“Fuck me,” I groan, giving up on waiting for him and going ahead with what I was doing. Blinking hard and filling my lungs with air, my opal necklace dances below my collarbones with every step. 

I find that I have the room to myself, and as the copier beeps with each button that I press, I hum a song to myself. The documents sitting in my hands are whisked away by the large machine, a newer and larger one since my first time here. Thank God, because that thing was always having problems. 

“I think somebody’s got a little crush on our boss out there,” somebody snickers from the doorway. My eyes flit over to find Jennings waltzing into the copier room, his horn rims perched on his long nose. Awkwardly, I look away and answer with a soft ‘mmhmm.’ I occupy myself with watching the machine spit out new sheets onto its bottom tray. “I hope you’re not too jealous,” he jokes with a loud laugh, but I don’t echo it. Why would I? Could you bring up anything more awkward or inappropriate to say to me, Jennings? 

“I’m fine,” I answer gently, picking up the stack after the whirring sound finishes. Stepping to the side, I tap the stack against the black counter and slide open a drawer. 

“Figure I owe you a congrats on your Employee of the Month recognition, that’s a rather big deal,” he continues, meandering through the wire shelves of supplies across the room from me. 

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” I return with emphasis in my voice, feeling out the lack of compassion in his. Clearing my throat, I dig around in the plastic tray set in the drawer until I grab a few large binder clips. 

“I’ve worked here for years, and haven’t had the luck of getting it since they started it this year,” he remarks, shaking a box of pens that he plucked from the shelf. 

“It’s only April, I’m sure you’ll have your chance,” I say slowly, separating my piles and tapping them against the counter until they’re neat and tidy. 

“I dunno about that, I haven’t even made bloody partner yet here. You’ll probably make it before me, seeing as how you have an in with the boss,” Jennings nearly retorts, and I gulp hard, suddenly reminded of the iffy feeling I’ve always had about him. I can’t place the blame on myself though, because he’s given me good reason for it, and I hope that he isn’t about to give me more. “It’s a shame you lost your case last week though, I hope Harry wasn’t too upset with you, but I’m sure he couldn’t be mad at his little girlfriend. He would’ve been mad at Rose, or even me, but no, not you. Isn’t that right?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I begin, the papers threatened between my suddenly clammy fingers. 

“Excuse me? I’d say it is, I don’t want you giving the firm a bad name now, but it looks like your boyfriend can’t save you from everything.” 

“What are you implying?” I demand curtly, turning around swiftly just in time to watch him slip a Macbook charger into his pocket. 

“I thought you were supposed to be a brilliant lawyer from what I hear, Becky, so I’ll leave that one up to you, wouldn’t you say?” Jennings poses with a dark glint in his eye, raising one thick eyebrow at me. “Oh wait, maybe I’ll give you a little help, seeing as how you couldn’t even win the case of that ex-wife racking up debt in her ex-husband’s name . . How do I say it? Well, I find it rather unfair the special treatment you receive, wouldn’t you agree? No, I guess you wouldn’t, would you?” he snickers, the swing and fall of his shoulders and eyebrows being more than enough for me to see. 

Turning back around, I hastily fasten the clips onto the stacks of documents for Harry’s new case, and well, mine too, much to somebody’s dissatisfaction. Excerpts from legal books, testimonies, and rough drafts of the argument. The tapping of a pen against the wire shelf gnaws at my ears, and accelerates the time bomb inside of me. 

“I don’t receive any special treatment, because of Harry or from him,” I mutter through gritted teeth, gathering the stacks all into one final pile. “I’d say that you’re being out of line and that you need to stop while you’re ahead.”

“Or what, you’ll tell your big, bad, boss boyfriend? Nobody likes snitches, you should know that. Plus, I’m his friend and I’ve known him longer than you, so who would he believe?” he chuckles darkly, igniting the hairs on the back of my neck with his impending footsteps. “Don’t deny it, you do receive special treatment. You get out of meetings and trainings even, the firm pays for your lunch several times a week I’m sure, you get overtime when you want it, you got a free thousand-dollar laptop again, and I’m sure your reviews will come out just sparkling. Not to mention, still having a job after being gone all that time after your accident. Did I miss anything there, Becky?” he finishes, his snarky words slithering along my back and into my ears where his breath wafts over me. 

“‘s everythin’ alright in here?” comes a voice from out of the blue. The three-level paper organizer sat in front of me blurs as my eyes widen. The ball in my throat is met with an unsuccessful gulp when I feel a hand on my arm. I shrink away from the touch before he can squeeze it. 

“Oh yes, I was just congratulating Becky on her Employee of the Month recognition. She deserves it,” Jennings answers for us, voice boisterous with faux cheer. 

“Becks?” Harry murmurs, cautiously touching my arm again and this time, I don’t run away from his touch. “Alright?” he whispers questioningly, the gentleness of his voice wills my eyes over to him. There’s a pang in my gut when I watch the emotion mirrored on his face - alarmed with fear and confusion. “Hey, what’s tha matter?” he probes, the warmth of his rings seeping through the thin fabric of my long sleeved blouse. 

“H-He . . was saying this stuff to me- awful stuff, and . . ,” I trail off quietly, my eyes flitting to the sandy brown hair I see from behind Harry, watching and listening as well. 

“What tha hell did ya say t’ her, Pete?” Harry questions, turning to face his colleague as he holds my elbow firmly. 

“Nothing,” he almost laughs, and then he makes a sound as if something came to mind. “Okay, okay. I guess I upset her when I told her that I saw her nick one of the Macbook chargers the other day. I approached the subject gently, just letting her know that they’re eighty bucks a pop, and she can only have one here at-.” 

“What, I did not! You’re the one who just stuffed one down your pants, you liar!” I scoff, spinning to face them both. “You did it when you were accusing me of getting special treatment from Harry!” I exclaim with my voice breaking in mid-sentence, the explanation soon growing wet. 

“What?!” Harry breathes, shock coating his every syllable. “Pete, what in tha bloody fuck ‘s tha matter with you? Becks would never steal and- wait, yer accusin’ her o’ gettin’ treated special jus’ ‘cuz she’s datin’ me? Have ya fell off yer fookin’ rocker, mate? I don’t treat Myles any bleedin’ different fer bein’ me best friend all me life, I treat e’rybody here tha fookin’ same, if ya hadn’t noticed. I reckon ‘s none o’ yer damn business how I mentor her, and don’t forget who fookin’ hired you as well, mate, and who can fire you.” 

“I just dunno why I’ve been here for how many bloody years as only a senior associate, mind you, and in walks her and-.” 

“I don’t care what yer fookin’ problem ‘s, Pete, but maybe I would’ve if ya’d bloody brought it t’ me instead o’ takin’ it out on her. ‘m yer boss, mate, I coulda helped you, so what good was it t’ cuss her out ‘cuz ya feel like shit?” Harry interrupts defensively, and with a blink, I see the redness rising in their faces. 

“Harry, please, let’s just go. I’m fine,” I beg, taking his hand and pulling on it. He doesn’t move an inch, and neither do his eyes from Jennings. 

“I tried, if you hadn’t noticed, but you were always too fucking busy for me, weren’t you? ‘Cause apparently, the only people who can get your bleeding attention as of late are those who are sucking your prick,” Jennings shrugs matter of factly. The surprise morphing my features and shaking my body is nothing compared to the shift in Harry’s demeanor. 

“Harry,” I begin when his fingers slip from mine. “No, don’t!” I exclaim, stepping forward and grabbing onto his arm, but my fingers only grasp at air. 

“A li’l fookin’ jealous, are we? Would ya rather it be you suckin’ me dick?” he jests at Jennings who steps closer to him. 

“Jealous of that? Fucking, hell no. I can’t believe you even call her a lawyer,” Jennings retorts, pushing his glasses off his nose and into his hair. “I see now why you hired her, she must be pretty fucking good at giving head and-.” 

“Harry!” I almost shout, wanting to step forward and instead backing up when I watch his fist fly. A wrenched sound escapes my lips when I see it connect with Jennings’ face, but it shrinks in comparison to the tear that splits my heart when Harry’s knocked back by Jennings’ swing. “Stop it! Now!” I nearly scream through a curtain of tears, my throat burning. Only then, does Harry lift his head of messy curls to look at me, wiping his fist against his nose that comes back red. 

Muttered curses fall from Jennings as he leaves hastily clutching his cheek, and I remain frozen until I see the blood gush from his nose. 

“You idiot! What were you thinking?” I cry, rushing forward and surrounding his face with my hands. 

“What was I thinkin’? I was thinkin’ I was standin’ up fer you, I wasn’t gonna let him say one mo’ nasty word ‘bout you, Becks. I could do with a thank you, y’know,” he sighs, eyeing the scarlet plummeting to the marbled floor with silent plops. 

“Harry,” I sob with a dismissive shake of my head, brushing back his hair to find the shock of red skin surrounding his nose below his eye. 

“Oh, baby, ‘m so sorry,” he huffs, grabbing a handful of tissues from a shelf and shoving them against his nose. At last, he yanks me into his arms and there I shed my tears into his cream button down that’s already marred by his sudden bloody nose. “I didn’t mean t’ frighten you, it jus’ happened so fast . . But I don’t regret it, standin’ up fer you . . I can’t believe tha mouth on him . . ‘m so sorry he said those things t’ you, none o’ them are true, I hope y’know.” 

Sniffling, I move away and find his eyes that beg for me, “Don’t let what he said get t’ you fer one second, e’rythin’ he said was lies, Becks. Every li’l thing, I promise you that,” he says firmly, pulling away a strand of hair that sticks to my cheek slick with tears. “‘d never let sumbody hurt you like that . . never ever.” 

“I haven’t even sucked your dick yet,” I giggle from beneath him, and then, can I start to relax when his giggle graces the air. 

“Ya, ‘d rather we keep that info’ t’ ourselves, wouldn’t you?” he snickers with that breathy laugh I love so dearly. “Don’t need tha whole bloody firm knowin’ I haven’t even gotten me dicked properly sucked yet.” 

“Hey!” I shoot back, slapping at his chest ever so faintly. 

“‘m kiddin’, bug. Y’know I don’t care it hasn’t happened yet, e’rythin’ in good time,” he insists, pulling me back against his front. I relent, but remain with my eyes pointed skywards. “I mean it, don’t worry yer pretty li’l head ‘bout inconsequential shit like that, or what he said.” 

“You’re still an idiot,” I sigh, caressing his cheek that tickles my hand with its stubble. 

“Why, ‘cuz ‘ll have a bruised up face fer our lunch with Skye and her mum t’day, or fer brekky with mine?” he jokes with a grin half hidden by his handful of Kleenex. 

“Yes, and no. Wait- you will. Harry!” I whine, only making him laugh against my hair when he kisses the top of my head. “No, you idiot, you’re not going to get it to stop bleeding like that. Sit down.” 

“Yes, m’am. I always knew I had a thing fer in charge women,” he snickers with a click of his tongue, stealing a kiss from my cheek before dragging over a chair against the wall. 

“Okay, give me the tissues. Thanks, now- No, you’ll only swallow blood that way. What, are you stupid?” I instruct, leaving him one to manage the nosebleed by himself as I fold up the rest. “Here, you need to hold them against your nose and with your other hand, pinch the bridge of your nose as you look down. Do that for, I dunno, five or ten minutes until it stops bleeding. Let me go and get you some ice for that shiner of yours.” 

“‘m fine, Becks. Really. All I want ‘s fer you t’ stay,” he says, grabbing hold of my hand when I turn away to leave. His expressive eyebrows near his hairline when he raises them at me in a near dare, but all I can see is the man I love and those eyelashes I’m so jealous of. “And t’ apologize, even tho’ ‘m not even really sorry for what I did.” 

“Apology accepted,” I concur sarcastically, stepping back to lean against the counter. “I’ll let you be an idiot this one time.” 

“Hey, don’t get yer hopes up too high now,” the sound of his giggle floats away and then my eyes are lulled to our hands that he laces together with a squeeze. 

“Thank you, Harry,” I tell him sincerely, finding those greens hidden amongst his obnoxious curls. 

“Always, baby - protect you, save you- you name it and ‘ll be there,” Harry coos with the softest of smiles, tracing with his thumb the new red lines that litter my face in places. “Always,” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss the place under my eye where my birthmark sits, and beside it a new scar that he’s kissed more times than I could count. 

I could never keep track of how many times I’ve looked at him and silently said those three words that once itched to jump off of my tongue and into his ears. The very three that sit in his eyes, just for me.

++

“You’re sure?” she asks in between the noises that sound like bubbles trickling from her lips. 

“Yes, ‘m sure. Dunno how many times I hafta tell ya.” 

“You know it’ll never be enough,” she giggles below me, her face screwed up in absolute happiness. “Harry!” she yelps, shoving at my chest weakly. 

“I know it won’t, yer stubborn as a bloody bull, you are,” I tsk with a click of my tongue, her body jolting with every stroke of my fingers across her ribs. Chuckling, I back up and watch how the laughs still peel off of her lips. “What’re you laughin’ at now, hmm? ‘m not even ticklin’ you anymo’ and yer still laughin’, li’l one.” 

The crinkles around her eyes remain and so does the divot in her left cheek that I love almost as much as her eyes, but not quite. Speaking of, those very blues open up and land on me with a glitter to them, only to flee when the chime of the doorbell rings throughout the house. I watch how the skin of her throat is disrupted by a nervous swallow, followed by the automatic twirling of her ring around her pointer finger. 

“Coming!” I call behind me, glancing to the door and then her. The way her dark waves are splayed across the sofa cushions. The glittery opal that sits perfectly above the scoop of her maroon blouse. The pink seeping through in her cheeks that I could kiss until I taste their sweetness.

“You’re really sure, Harry?” Becks asks softly, her eyes wandering nervously to the front door and then me. 

“Yes, ‘m absolutely positive she’ll love you. Now, take a deep breath and let’s go answer tha door.” 

A small ‘okay’ greets the air as her fingers fall between mine that I reassuringly squeeze. My steps come to a halt in front of the cherry oak, but I’m not quite there. Looking up, my thoughts are confirmed when I see my arm outstretched holding onto her where she stands, much too far away. 

“C’mere,” I laugh in a whisper, tugging on her arm until she arrives at my side. The smell of orange blossoms and vanilla flood my senses as I pull away from the forehead kiss.

++

“You know, she’s going to be mad, don’t you?” I pose, ghosting my thumb over the concoction of purple and blue painted below his eye. 

“Hush, li’l one, I already have one mum. I don’t need anotha,” he chirps with a teasing wink, twisting open the door. 

“What is this I’m going to be mad about?” a voice pipes up with a curious accusatory sound to their voice. “Harry Edward!” she exclaims, not even one foot in the door. “What’d you do to your beautiful face?”

“I uh, ran into a door. Y’know, my sunglasses were really dark and-,” he begins, but much to my surprise and happiness, his mother doesn’t let him get away with the terrible lie. I’m liking her already. 

“Don’t lie to your mother, son,” she tuts with a shake of her head, lightly smacking the back of his head that he mutters an ‘ow!’ at. The oddly cold Spring day rushes in with her first steps, but my insides warm at the sigh she shares with me when our eyes meet. “I thought you were old enough to know better to avoid fist fights.” 

“Pete started it, not me!” 

“I don’t care who started it, you’re a grown man, Harry.” 

“That’s what I tried to tell him,” I groan, watching him take her coat to hang in the closet beside the stairs. 

“Bloody hell, I see you two are gettin’ on already. Who’s side are you on, anyways?” Harry scoffs, closing the dark cherry wood door. 

“Yes, I see we are. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, Becky. I’ll just blame it on me son keeping you away from me,” Harry’s mum croons, her lips painted with lipstick spreading into a cheery smile. Chuckling, I ignore Harry’s arguing ‘hey!’ as I step forward into her outreached arms. “I think I have a bone to pick with him, you’re prettier than he ever said you were.” 

“So are you,” I chortle, picking up on the geranium and amber notes of her perfume before I step away to find her cobalt blue eyes smiling at me. 

“I do like her!” she chuckles to Harry, squeezing my opposite arm that she still holds onto. 

“What’d I tell ya?” Harry pipes up, nodding at me. “Two peas inna pod already, you lot are. Talkin’ shit ‘bout me and motherin’ me togetha in tha first bleedin’ minute ya’ve met,” he sighs, taking down three white plates from the cabinets that he reaches easily with his height. 

“That’s good, I need somebody else here to mother you while ‘m away. I reckon it doesn’t help much when you’re too stubborn to avoid boyish fist fights,” she returns, turning to me with a joking look in her eyes. Our laughs echo the others as she leads me over to the oval wooden table on the other side of the kitchen island, against the sliding patio door. “Who better than your girlfriend and colleague?”

“I guess so,” Harry groans, pulling back a chair for her to sit, soon falling into the chair across from me. “Neither o’ you even let me get t’ tha introductions, you women and yer talkin,’” he grunts, pulling himself closer to the table. With a calming breath, he runs a hand through his hair and pushes up the sleeves of his olive green knitted jumper. “Mum, this ‘s me girlfriend, Becky, but I like t’ call her Becks. And bug, this ‘s me mum, Anne. Shall we finally have that brekky togetha we’ve been talkin’ ‘bout fer months?” 

“Yes, let’s dig in,” Anne chuckles, a sliver of Harry’s song heard in her voice. “Oooo, ‘s this apple bread by the famous chef I’ve heard so much about?” 

“Yes, she doesn’t disappoint, never ever,” Harry winks, licking a crumb off of his thumb after grabbing a slice of the bread. A pink sits in his cheeks that I’m sure is mirrored in my own, and perhaps greater. I look away with a small smile, shoveling the egg bake onto my plate. “Not in tha court room, with baking, or with how good o’ job she does takin’ care o’ me,” he muses with a glint in his eye and cheeks rounder than I’ve ever seen.

I go on and listen to the stories, I even help tell some of them. Some of them make me tear up, whether it be from laughing, the wetness in Harry’s, or the love shining through in his and in hers.

+

“I told ya so.” 

“Yeah, when don’t you?” I bite back, and immediately regret it when I feel his fingers along my ribs, eliciting laughs from my lips. 

“Hey, watch it, li’l one. I have you inna compromisin’ situation here, so ya betta watch yerself,” Harry giggles, the words tickling my ear. The sounds continue from my lips and I hear them shadowed in his, and how they play off of each other while his hands keep my stomach warm. “I told ya she’d love you, and she did. Couldn’t shutup ‘bout you at Gemma’s last night, ‘specially tha fact you gave her a whole loaf o’ yer apple bread. You made her bloody day, ‘m sure. Speakin’ of, ya ready t’ meet me sista properly fer lunch t’morrow?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” I groan, the words whisked away with a sound that my lips, I sometimes think, hold just for him. His stubbly face is itchy against my temple, but he remedies it with soft pecks to the skin. 

“You guess?!” he exclaims, squeezing me around the middle. My head knocks against his, and he keeps my fingers secure between his while the smells of greasy pizza and floor cleaner lull me with their familiarity. His argument dissolves into a soft chuckle muffled against my hair where he mouths kisses. 

“You know who I wish you could meet?” 

“Hmmm, who’s that, bug?” Harry replies. Gulping, my eyes fall away from the crowds of people mingling around at the their tables, sucking the last few drops from their soda or guzzling pints. The answer flees from my lips, but after I twirl it around my finger a few times, I think he knows after he nuzzles his head against mine. “I wish I coulda meet yer gran,’ too, y’know. I wish you coulda met my granddad as well. ‘m sad I didn’t get t’ meet yers eitha . . . You’ll have t’ come home t’ Cheshire one o’ these weekends and meet me Gran’ Clara- Claire, she likes t’ go by. She’s a real hoot and already knows ‘bout you, naturally. She reminds me loads o’ Skye’s mum- bloody hell, I see where Skye gets tha crazies from now.” 

“I agree with you on that one,” I titter and he nods into my neck, but the sounds fall when he spins the ring around my finger before folding my hands inside of his own. 

In a whisper against my cheek, he whispers words that take away the breath I didn’t know that I had left. “‘m so bloody glad that I met you, Becks, and that we’re here . . finally. Met me mum, met Skye’s tha other day, and meetin’ me sista t’morrow. Harper will be delighted t’ see you, I know, and tha baby ‘s gettin’ bigger e’ryday.” 

I nod and any words I had wanted to say escape me with the squeal garnered by his fingers digging into my tummy, remedied by a kiss below my ear. 

“You lot are fucking disgusting, y’know that, don’t you?” comes a voice with a disdainful scoff. “It’s been your turn for a good thirty seconds now, Ree. Get going, would you?!” 

“I know, ‘s great, innit? Go on, babe. Show me how t’ get a strike,” Harry teases with a loud kiss to my cheek to annoy Robbie, pushing me off of his lap where his arms wrapped around me kept us arm. It’s drowned out by the sound of surprise I utter when he slaps my ass with his hand. 

“My fricken God, you two are embarrassing me,” Robbie groans, walking past me to pick up his pint from the table, and taking a seat beside his muddy Wellies. Turning around in shock, I find Harry’s greens lit with a smirk that shines on his face. “C’mon, Ree, bowl already! You’re shit half of the time anyways, what’s the difference now?” he jokes and a loud scoff graces the air, much to Harry’s amusement. 

Sighing, I step up to the little contraption that wheels forward Robbie’s glittery navy blue bowling ball. I lean over to grab my electric yellow one etched with a white ‘7’ and widen my eyes at Harry’s green ‘10.’ Threading my fingers into the three holes, my clown like shoes step onto the polished wood, and I try to remain cool and calm. Closing my eyes, I grimace at their teasing of me from behind, but Harry’s contagious breathy laugh propels me forward. 

“Ya, that’s me girl! Three pins down, woohoo!” he shouts loudly in a squeaky and sarcastic voice, holding up his beer in a fake cheer. Shaking my head with red cheeks, I wait for my ball to return and to try again. 

Slowly, I realize with the ball heavy in my hands and my score falling far behind theirs on the tv above, that just like any other time, I don’t care if I win or lose. This time is different, listening to how my boyfriend and my twin brother joke from behind me and laugh, their conversation quickly turning to football and then music.

Sometimes, I have a hard time believing this is a day in my life after everything, and it’s only one of the firsts.

-

A/N: Hello, friends! Thank you SO MUCH to those still reading, and also to new readers! Welcome, and I’m so glad you’re here! I’m so sorry that this blurb took awhile than I originally planned . . it boggles me how I spend basically every minute I’m not working and shadowing doing homework :/ I hope to have the next blurb out in two weeks, so I’ll keep you all posted! Enjoy and let me know what you think, please! I love you all and good luck with everything!

[stray-tori]

An Innocent Sin & the good gay flashback ft. my descent into madness

I wasn’t sure if I should post this but I mostly want it archived so here we go. This is from like,, September?

So. “An Innocent Sin” is a dumpster fire unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I don’t remember why I decided to read it. maybe I was crazy. Either way... I read it. It soon started to touch upon (very very outlandish) sexual abuse which I thought was interesting. (the angst, not so much some of the wack circumstances surrounding it)

ANYWAY. at some point... we have a flashback. And not just that. It has a gay character.

And it turns rly gay. which mind you, is still in a het smut manwha (that has a “gay” side couple, but still!)

And it destroyed me.

For those who want to read it because I genuinely think the flashback is a decent bit, it’s all the bonus chapters between chapter 77 and 78 I think. There’s a part before that too, but idk where exactly anymore. (It’s on lezhin! or your platform of choosing)

I don’t THINK you’ll need any other knowledge to get the flashback bit? but it’s been a while.

Below the cut (rip mobile users), you can read all of my amazing reactions (all of these were text messages, for context - but I took most of the replies and convos about other things out). Post is also tagged as long post. :))

(i’m serious, this is fucking long)

__________

Here I am. Liking the gay flashback character. Feck. Main dude is still straight but idk it's cute pff

This is a mess. The girl white hair likes, likes black hair, maybe, but thinks white hair is attractive

What just happened is sth I'd like to know too pff He's so cute tho omg. Watch me melt Can we stay in this flashback before everything got perverted af and before white hair gets assaulted all the time I would send an eyebrow emote if I could Context: he's asking he says it again

Ik it's not mutual but loookkk he's so sweet. He's kinda rude in present time, can't we stay in this flashback forever

I never asked for gay, never expected gay but I got gay

This story is trash why am I still reading it shdhhd

He caught his mom cheating. And now she's forcing him to watch??? What is thissss Well adoptive mom But still sudhdidu what Bitch how dare YOU exist

Save my babyyyy

Yay sister that's not yet a rapist to the rescueee

This flashback is actually just nicer in every way let's just stay here This is a super long flashback btw Idek anymore what triggered it

Okay I think I'm gonna make the sensible decision and let this dumpster fire rest and just go sleep

It was very wild. I kinda wanna see white hair get therapy but it has 90 chapters and I'm at like 30... So I'm very concerned this is gonna be very dragged out. Idek if it's even finished ahahsududi - but I do kinda wanna see where it goes and see more cute Noah (white hair) so. Here we are.

yeahhh like i was down for the sexual abuse angst but then the mother killed the adoptive son's mother bc the dad had a thing for her?? and it was someone a person studying with white hair knew and so he's investigating and I'm like how did this turn into a crime organisation kind of plot

hhhhhhh i... i appreciate these horny things also tackling abuse but it always kind of gives me weird vibes to have both, especially when its very horny. And when people are horny to people who've been abused. Idk but I'd assume... you might try NOT to tie them up if they're frequently bondaged during their assaults. I'm just.... disjdksdj hello?? am i weird?? why are they fine with it???

also this manwha is so wild, theres this murder mystery investigation thing and then theres just a couple doing honry stuff sprinkled in between and i'm like OKAY

they rescued a guy in their basement and he's understandably very traumatized and they're trying to question him cut to our main couple trying bondage which i still dont understand bECAUSE HE'S A RAPE VICITM WHY ARE YOU OKAY WITH THIS the ones questioning arent the main couple of course but idshkjds

like im glad he's somehow okay with all this horny stuff despite his trauma and im glad he can be happy and have a nice relationship but DO WE NEED THIS MUCH OF IT he's very cute tho

i like that even when i try other stuff lezhin recommends me it still has large amount of gay in it

[mei: i mean... that's pretty great, if you ask me]

I mean I agree, I'm enjoying the gay eheheh these tonal whiplashes there's not even that much white space between the panels fhjd nvm it just turned horny goddamn it can there be 1 chapter without fucking? okay, there were the flashbacks

WE ARE BACK IN FLASHBACKS but im not getting the gay relationship, sad

OH WAIT AM I GETTING GAY COMFORT bc thats very good too

OH NNOOO this turned sad very quickly

I'M SORRY IM SPAMMING BUT THIS IS JUST ANGSTY

I'M :((((

different species confirmed

I rly like them :((( I like the current girl too but it's just..... very horny with her. the flashbacks are nice [current tori edit: she’s very unloyal idk why i said I liked her] im weird HHHHH RIPPP 

someone help him he looks so saddddd

not sure if thats the most healthy relationship but I'LL TAKE IT

AWWW black hair's mom cooks mild food for them bc Noah can't eat spicy food :((( im soft

PFFF

I LOVE THE FLASHBACKS :(((

awww

i feel like theyve done much more bonding than noah's current relationship. I mean yes I think its cute when she comforts him, too, but they rarely do anything besides be horny together

OH OH THEY'RE KISSING

best buildup, honestly

the position is hornier than I'd like later here goes hope it stays cute

D-did someone just respect the word "stop"??? I am amazed

i think you might uh. have some trauma stuff too so yknow

Dohye is a little dramatic in his reassurance but it's all rly cute so I'm :(( I like them a lot pls stay like this getting invested in flashbacks is always like: ik it wont stay but pls stay like this

hELP

chapters ending in "i wanna touch him" is never good. I'm scared. Oh okay he didnt do anything. PHEW. He's already better than the girl, can't they just end up together lmao

[Noah was jealous]

w-why do you look so evil dohye haukdhjs

oh. oh no. the horny is starting. pls dont... just be cute forever

DOHYE NO YOU WERE SO DECENT WHY ARE YOU LYING ABOUT KOREAN TRADITIONS TO GET HIM TO DO STUFF HORNY STUFF TOO NO PLS STOP I JUST- WHEEE TvT the manwha is actually less visually horny in the flashbacks but im not sure if its bc its BL which isnt rly the genre of the manwha or if its bc they're still kids basically, which... I'd respect the latter, tho I'd prefer it to be like this constantly haha

okay. he's not respecting stop anymore, but it's also more of embarrassed nature more than "no i dont want this stop" so maybe i can forgive it. Still losing points, but he hugged him and it was sweet so HHHHHHHHHHH NOT SURE HOW I SHOULD JUDGE THIS SITUATION

They [Noah’s family] forbid him to visit his friends house I AM DEVASTATED

understandable they're a rapist, a fucked up murderer mother and a father with a thing for younger women so

tho he dont know any of that but yknow he's so pretty just fucking end me on the spot

hooo

they are boyfriends and ik from the future that his sister is gonna ruin it allll she has those drugs that make visual imaginations feel like they rly happened to the person (dont know if thats real but holy fuck its terrifying) and she's used it before to say that Noah assualted her. and im pretty sure shes gonna use it again bc there was a panel of Noah remembering Dohye being uhhhh intimate with her and thats why Noah began to hate him and im so sad im not ready for it. bc he's denied it in the future and i honestly couldnt see it happening even before that or she drugged Dohye, i guess thats a possibility too

[current tori: oh girl, it’s neither and it’s wack]

which if, btich you gonna die even more enough rambling, more reading. this makes me so sad but also spicy

on the manwha note, he thinks Noah doesnt like his family bc he's adopted and doesnt feel comfy which....... fair enough i suppose. and he's so cute im gonna melt just looK AT THIS 

SHUt UP, IM GONNA CRY

OH MY GODDDD he ate like ice and gum and all that, and Dohye assumed it was bc of the more spicy food and got rl worried, but he was just trying to get the smell out of his breath bc he wanted to kiss him ukhsdjs HOW CAN YOU BE SO CUTE HELLLOOOOOOOOO

look at them. LOOK AT mY BABIESSSS

how am i ever gonna care about the main couple again aww he-he wanted to go to the same highschool as him :((( im sad bc i know its not gonna happennnnnn

[mei: also at this point, you're literally never gonna care about them. i don't even know the main couple that well and i honestly don't care about them whatsoever.]

WAIT NO they're actually going to the same school awww ik it wont take long until sister fucks it up for them but for now theyre so sweet ohmygodddd

cant he move in with them, fuck his family honestly

dohye he's not a fucking pokemon iukhsdjs

oh. its. turning horny i am displeased with this development but i guess its natural for their relationship however COULD YOU DO IT AT HOME AND NOT IN SOME DUSTY SMALL ROOM how do ppl do this i like that the comments too are just "... is anyone still carng about the other girl?" sakjds

this is the best 3 panels in existence.

h-he just took your hand dohye idk what to tell you

[mei: "you blush at everything i do" god if that isn't me, idk what is]

awww its cute dohye is getting bonus points bc he invited Noah over while his mom wasnt home, they watched some sexual stuff and he DIDNT try to do anything what is this where can i get more of this

"well im not okay"

MY BABIESSSS 

they still didnt do much btw they're just kinda exploring and its honestly nice TvT I dont want this to ever endddd

[Dohye sees Noah’s sister and approaches her] N O

N OOOO

this is the starttttt of something.......... TERRIBLEEEE 

:((( babyyyy

I AM EMO

Noah was drugged im sure. hes having dreams and waking up in pain and the sister is asking doyhe over I DONT LIKE THISSSSSSS OH HE DECLINED

OKAY OKAY he saw him with her again but it was from behind and im not sure if it rly happened??? oh no this is terrible. Noah :((( poor child

i am so emo about this

[reminder he’s been abused TvT]

[the sister: “Don’t you want to know why?”]

i will. murder someone he called to ask her to delete his number btw what is this manwha but this is just gonna make it that more tragic when whatever happens that breaks them apart :(((

he's such a good bf but Noah just wont TELL him his side I'M SO SAD

I AM SO SAD

No

NO

It cant end im actually tearing up nooo you were so cuteeee and happpyyy

[*sister is telling dohye to come to the gym hall*]

what else is she gonna do she already teared [current tori: ahem... T O R E] them apart THAT'S NOT DOYhE. THATS NEVER HIM. OH MY GOD. is it a look alike??? damn, she's dedicated to just. ruining it, huh

I’M

I’M SO SAD

now he's switching SCHOOLS NO NOOOOO how will i ever find happiness againnnn NO they're misunderstanding further they're not talking properly i mean i get it but oh my god

I'M :((( 

NO NOOOO pls make up in the future at least omg he tried to clear it up tooo ahhh i dont even have hopes for them getting back together but i just i want them to clear it up im crying first manwha to make me cry and it's this dumpster fire ahaha maybe a little too bc it kinda hit a little close to home i guess but goddamnn ittttt they were so cuteee and so happy and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

OH NO. Noahs getting drugged and assaulted. And he's realizing it happened before, he just forgot. I am. so sad it's not horny drawn either which i appreciate but MY HEART NO

N O DONT YOU DARE MAKE THIS WORSE

Im. gonna cry more 

Doyhe kept an eye on him im so emo :(( but he thought he was doing well enough and gave up.... Im im so sad no i want you to make up and get back together its all just a stupid........... MEHHHH will i ever find sth like this flashback again

[mei: p-probably not, no]

i am so devasted i dont even wanna go back to the main couple just fucking. i want this relationship back :(((( but i guess the investigation might end up somewhere so hhh hhhhhhhhhhhhhh the baker manwha had a similar flashback feeling so. i just gotta find more of that haha

BUT THIS WAS SO SAD??? im so emo

[Dohye got kidnapped // the flashback commentary stops here but I think my descend into madness is pretty funny too]

OH YEAH THAT HAPPENED. THE FLASHBACK WAS SO LONG I FORGOT. NOOOO SAVE HIM. JESUS CHRIST PLS JUST ONE GOOD THING

its. actually rly smart to have another, more focused on them flashback, before the arc where he gets kidnapped by the rapist murder household so. good job. from a meta perspective but also NO but also. maybe theres hope for them making up at least after all :(((

[main couple kissing] this is. very weird now. but im glad he has someone, he deserves it but dohyeeeee

and switching to sex, YET AGAIN now i wanna see this EVEN LESS THAN I DID BEFOREEEE it's even.... a threesome now with one of the other characters why are you like this why can't you be. like in the flashback i am so upset HAHHHHH WHEEEZEEEE

I am just stop fucking jesus christ PLEASE I DONT WANNA SEE IT ANYMOREEEEE

im just stop the horny pls just tell me who that new guy is and why doyhe likes him so much

[mei: this manwha is a fucking mess but at least we got your lovely commentary out of it]

dhsuksj thanks i feel honored at least i got cute BL out of it before everything went [back] to shit

[mei: THAT TOO]

[...]

tbh im getting kinda mad about doyhe... i dont... feel like he'd just fall instantly for a guy who looks like Noah... but eh not my character

i just want closure for dohye at this point, fuck everything else ... not literally pls theres already too much of that

pls get it together for like 1 chapter is the investigation even still happening i am so confused save dohye plEASE wait what i have less than 10 episodes left Dont tell me this shit isnt even wrapped up yet

[Dohye is having a breakdown over the Noah double not coming to see him anymore]

yeah i this... doesnt feel like Dohye... at all... Even when Noah was rejecting him he was just kind of... taking it with some humor and maybe he was a little desperate and risky sometimes but... oh well... i do want him to get better but... im having a hard time believeing this development??? he never seemed overly anxious or anything. but who knows what else they did to him. Sister can still go fuck off tho

[...]

i mean. i liked the flashbacks a lot honestly??? it stayed simple and focused on the dynamics and less trying to balance smut with murder plots

[dm partner: NO THAT'S WHAT I MEAN LIKE CLEARLY THE AUTHOR CAN MAKE A GOOD STORY SO I'M JUST... CONFUSED AS TO WHY THEY DIDN'T STICK WITH SOME SOFT, FLUFFY BL ROMANCE MANWHA AND DECIDED TO MAKE WHATEVER THIS IS INSTEAD ]

okay i dont care bc dohye is currently getting assaulted nobody asked for this why i just. this is terrible. he was... so sweet. he doesnt deserve this. nobody does of course but jesus christ pls someone save him at least its not horny visually, one saving grace

ah... the assult is back to being depicted horny-ly thank you for nothing

[... removed some general confusion about the plot]

YES. SOME SHIP FOOD.

i am. suffering i mean i cant stop but GOD

okay so apparantly. the sister. has just an arsenal of people who look like other people Dohye, then Noah... and even Noah's GF??? this is ridiculous??

one good message 

why 

did you feel the need to add that [actual tired rage]

im gonna die this manwha is gonna kill me im laughing but im suffering oh hes arrested great and thats the end and the last update was in january of this year

why AS IN NOAH IS ARRESTED nobody who actually did anything is arrested What is this why is this AHHH I at least wanted the complete-ness of finishing this but now I'M JUST SUFFERING

[ mei: I MEAN TO BE FAIR I'D BE SUFFERING TOO BC JUST... WHAT THE FUCK I HAVE?? MANY QUESTIONS?? AND MANY CONCERNS BC THIS MANWHA IS JUST... AN EXPERIENCE ]

its an experience allright WELL

_______________

yup that’s it.

in my head, in a twist of events Dohye and Noah make up and are actual endgame. Something like that must exist out there but I won’t ask because it’d destroy the surprise and ruin the point.

That’s it.

Have a nice day.

[zackfiar-a]

hello class! today we’re going to learn about growth and the process of healing via zack fair

when zack entered SOLDIER he had bright eyes of optimism whilst having one goal and a dream in mind: to become SOLDIER 1st class and to become a hero just like sephiroth. however the longer he stayed in SOLDIER, the more he realized that hey ..... something isnt Right here. one of those that you cant have emotions attached to missions or the ppl that ur fighting against, that its just a reliability. thats not something he agreed with because he purely focuses with his emotions, whether it could be his downfall or not. he feels immensely, whether its anger towards himself or sympathy; something so trivial as emotions will jeopardize the mission (ie a mission to go search for angeal). 

and unfortunately, being as young and impressionable as he was, it was very easy for him to be manipulated by his higher ups (because of his intense enthusiasm and wanting to please his superiors) and not be able to form opinions of his own, lest they get tested and make himself doubt his loyalty to shinra. which is why he had no problem with going to wutai and trying to overtake fort tamblin, he was told wutai is the enemy of shinra. they’re the bad guys, without ever being told the reason why. like why did shinra name wutai as their enemy? why are they going at war with them?

his perception was warped by the toxic ideals and goals that shinra and SOLDIER had, even though his guy he knew it was wrong and that he should question those of higher power than him. 

it also took too long to realize that shinra, at the face, is a company and state helps the people and protect midgar from terrorists and others that dare face against shinra. that underneath, they were making monsters with an ancient alien that landed on earth years and years ago. he doesnt know why; doesnt know anything about the ‘promised land’ theyre searching for. he doesnt know anything about their goals of creating beings from jenova, g, and s - cells. the fact of the matter is, theyre stealing away innocent people just so shinra can experiment on them (and they all worked for shinra ie SOLDIER 3rd and 2nd class when genesis took them with him; probably others than he cant imagine).

being hit with the information that genesis is degrading from the g - cells and angeal being born from the result of experimentation from gillian, the clouds started to fade away from his eyes and hes actually surprised that the ppl that know this are okay with it. like it was common knowledge, which it wasnt! he didnt know anything about this! the fact that angeal knew about this and didnt tell him, he felt hurt and betrayed. he was blindly following in his footsteps of embracing your SOLDIER honor and your dreams, that the fact he was proud and happy that he was working for shinra! meanwhile they had secret labs scattered about banora, modeoheim, and nibelheim that these experiments were going on!

at this point, zacks faith in shinra is fading and his dream is being pushed to the back burner even when he does eventually become a 1st class. no thanks! you can keep it. not like he had a chance but accept it. when hes forced to kill angeal, theres a mix of emotions: intense sadness because he looked up to angeal and admired him greatly, with his skills and such inspiring ideals; and even tho he can handle himself without angeal, he felt like he was the last pillar in SOLDIER that he had. he also felt relieved and hurt, zack doesnt forget him keeping all this information of human experimentation a secret while zack was looking with a naive lense to wanting to protect the people. relieved in the sense that angeal was probably hurting and was rapidly degrading if the grey hair and pale skin at his death was any indication.

being inherited the buster sword wasnt something he took proudly, it was a heavier weight on his shoulders the point where was sagging. he felt the least he could do was become those that ppl looked up to as well. even tho he carries a piece of angeal, he just couldnt accept what he had tried to push onto him. SOLDIER honor, there wasn’t a thing that existed at this point. trying to convince himself that SOLDIER doesnt mean monster, he couldnt kid himself that it meant monster. 

during this time, he goes to the church and accept consoling from aerith. altho he doesnt talk about what happens, or what hes experiencing / feeling which eventually becomes his downfall. as a way to make himself feel better, he visits the church, immediately feeling calmed, but however with so much weighing on his mind, promising aerith to build the wagon for her flowers becomes half-hearted. he thinks this is enough to try and hes the burden he was inherited, to push away the trauma of having to kill his mentor and watching him die, and fighting monsters, that were at some point, people---  even to the point of no longer wanting to be a part of SOLDIER. ofc this doesnt work and isnt a viable way to cope with his experiences. 

being last straw is when he fights sephiroth when he burns down nibelheim. that was someone he looked up to and trusted, he joined SOLDIER wanting to be like him. except now hes dragged cloud and tifa into this whole mess, and he feels incredibly responsible for not intervening sooner. he shouldve seen the signs that it wasnt going to end well, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt, hoping that he wouldnt be like genesis and angeal (which he was wrong). witnessing that sephiroth was kept these very important and crucial details, made him realize it doesnt matter how important or popular you are in shinras eyes; if theres any hint that someone could retaliate, they will keep it a secret until its convenient for them. this severed anything else positive he felt for shinra.

he doesnt even realize he was put in a pod for 4 years (only assuming its been a couple of weeks at most), still imaging that hes 18 when he now has to physically free himself from shinras grasp. even while hes asleep, the nightmares and visions of angeal wouldnt waver. even though he could choose to leave cloud alone in the pod with severe mako poisoning, he didnt want to. cloud was his friend, and he felt solely responsible for him to be pulled within the crossfire. cloud wanted to join SOLDIER, well this was the reality. he couldnt even fight for himself or eat; but he was alive and that was good enough for zack. zack has this pushed guilt onto his conscious, so he makes sure to bring cloud with him everywhere he went, even casually talking to him like he can actually respond back. 

he doesnt even realize the reality that he wasnt a respected member of SOLDIER, by the words of hojo, they were both fugitives and even though zack was still asleep in that pod, he was so tired; emotionally, physically, and mentally. this whole thing, he had to see through, if not for himself, then for cloud. at least get him to midgar and try to continue living a separate part shinras greedy hands. there were certain times while trying to avoid shinra and hide, that he could just end himself several times, but clouds existence was a constant reminder that they both managed to live, besides he owed cloud so much, so ridding himself off wouldnt do them nearly enough good. 

so seeing genesis again got him angry, that he couldnt even blame him for the reason this was happening. whether genesis wanted to capture hollander to help further shinra in experimentation, it wasnt going to stop what was going on underneath the surface. seeing lazard with angeals face really made him weak at the knees, physically made him sick, and feeling temporarily relieved (which he doesnt forget of the fact that angeal is dead, that this isnt actually him but lazard who absorbed his cells).

and finally beating genesis, he still felt angry with only a small semblance of sympathy. even with his soft heart, he couldnt help but feel bad for him, going thru such great lengths just because he was a failure of an experiment and wanted to live longer than what he got. this wasnt genesis’ fault, it was shinras and that just made him more frustrated. 

and while hes with cloud, riding to midgar, he once again tries to push the anger, hurt, and frustration at the back of his mind to tell cloud silly stories while he was still in SOLDIER, and what he thought about cloud upon meeting him for the first time, and that feelings of doubts that hes sorry that cloud has to travel with a monster. with coming across the shinra army, he realized this was a final stand, being physically exhausted (even w the mutated s and mako infused cells, he doesnt feel nearly as strong as he did before). even though he no longer holds up the honor of SOLDIER, he needs to protect cloud and his own honor that hes built as a person, and nothing else.

when he succeeded by the skin of his teeth, he wonders why hes still alive, why hes still breathing, even though its hard. he lost sight in one eye, but he doesnt even realize how, everything happened so fast. was he shot? was he stabbed? who knows, but taking cloud to midgar while hes sitting on deaths edge himself, he will take cloud back even if it kills him. there are people there waiting for him, unlike zack--- no one is waiting for him to come back, the people that hes looked up to has died, or see him as a traitor. perhaps, you could count his parents, but hes so ashamed to see them face to face. he feels like if he did, he would break down. his cell phone has long ago stopped working, so who knows if anyone has sent him anything during the time of his slumber. he doesnt even know that kunsel is waiting for him to come back.

during this whole time, hes held in his feelings and emotions, shouldering all this himself. he hasnt talked to anyone previously about his trauma, the nightmares that prevent him from sleeping, or his doubt. being in the sector 7 slums and being taken care of, he puts on a false face that everything is okay, but it cracks when he hit his brink. crying and screaming, yelling how none of this is fair and how he shouldve been dead. he doesnt why hes alive but hes so tired. he was fully planning to die when he faced shinras army, not even thinking how to why, if there even is a reason. even though tifa and marle kindly provided him a room to rest in, theres a momentary frenzy where there are several deeply punched in walls, even unleashing his sword in blinded frustration. 

hes never been taught that it was okay to share your feelings, and being swallowed by the toxicity of SOLDIER, he felt as if it was weak to ask for help. hes encouraged and is told several times, while being in the slums, that its okay. theres always an ear to be lend to if one needs to talk about their woes, or something that deeply troubles them. not to mention, he has a hard time accepting that so much time as passed, that so much as changed and almost so many people forgot about him. hes lost so much of his younger years by SOLDIER, the lost of mental growth by being in a god damn mako infused pod. he needs to catch up, now finding home in the sector 7 slums (altho apologizing and insisting that he fix up the room that he ruined. it gives him something to do and he fees bad for destroying that was so graciously offered from kindness).

he spends his time around avalanche and tifa, not only trying to help up from the wounds he endured, but trying to move on. find easier methods to cope and deal with the stress in healthy ways thats not dangerous self destruction to himself and those around him. hes slowly coming to the conclusion that hes not a monster that hes so insisted on, but a victim and pawn of SOLDIER and shinra. hes angry at shinra. hes upset, frustrated, aggravated, among other emotions towards the former company hes worked for.

and even though this healing process is still slow, hes becoming much more happier than has been before. he finds home in the slums, and those people that has so welcomed him, even though untrusting because of his previous affiliation with SOLDIER. he loves the people, quickly befriending the entire sector 7 slums. 

hes come a long way since coming back to midgar, from self loathing and a weak, nearly broken spirit to his back optimistic, naturally smiling self that people love to be around. he has given shinra a lot, but he wont let them take away a person he was so proudly being before he entered SOLDIER, albeit still immature with mentality that hes still 18.

[everydayanth]

The Liam Neeson Thing...

Okay guys, this is gonna get complex and personal right quick. But it’s been bothering me and I’m working on posting more without thinking about it for two weeks until nobody cares anymore.

So here goes.

Context matters. Context is important and it can be complicated, but it freakin’ matters. 

In my opinion, Liam Neeson’s flaw was that he thought a rapist would be the kind of person to also attack him. 

Here’s the thing guys, if you’ve never heard someone you love confess to you that they have been irrevocably hurt by a person, you need to take a step back for a minute. 

That moment, talking about it, it’s extremely vulnerable, so this is a bit hard for me, but in a moment of chaos and torment, a person you love and care deeply for is breaking apart in front of you and there isn’t a damned thing you can do about it. There’s not a damn thing you can do but hold them and cry with them and hurt for them and try to help and figure out the right thing to say. 

And when they’re tucked safe in bed and you’re researching what you can do for them or laying awake thinking about what you could possibly say, the amount of guilt and hurt and anger hits you in the chest, it fills you so wholly that you just need to find a way to let it out. It’s a dangerous rage, it’s immature and unhealthy and so so so painful. 

We don’t talk about emotions in America. We just don’t. So of course we want to put this emotion into a context we discuss, and idea we understand. 

But it’s not an -ism, it’s an emotion. 

If you don’t think when my sister told me about our cousin assaulting her that I didn’t wander around my ghetto ass neighborhood waiting for some big white guy to try to hurt me, well, you’d be wrong. Our brain makes patterns, my cousin didn’t live in our city, but I knew he was a big white guy with a shitty pencil beard, my brain classified that as a pattern. Every time I talked to a big white guy, I had to check myself, yeah. But when my brain registered a human who looked like my cousin, my heart rate ran up and I would will them to attack me. I wanted to fight because I didn’t know what else to do with all that pain, all that helpless emotion. But I could wander around places where someone was bound to get hurt anyway and invite the fight to me. 

Neeson was wandering around areas inviting a fight. INVITING, not instigating. It is a common reaction of revenge and feeling hurt, and we’re shoving this idea into something familiar - outrage, racism, etc., anything so we don’t have to actually talk about emotions. 

He was looking for a “black bastard,” poor choice of words, I agree, but he was hoping that guy, the one who hurt his friend, would challenge him, and it would just happen to be the same guy and he could get his anger out. It’s not healthy, but if they man who hurt his friend had been white and he’d wandered around lower class white neighborhoods inviting a fight, would it have been racism? 

This had an opportunity to be a conversation about what the fuck you do around a friend who confesses they were raped and hurt to you. After all the #MeToo (or in the midst of it), how do you be a friend to your loved ones who feel ready to confess to you? What do you do to manage that amount of disgust you feel at the world, that rage and hate and hurt and horror that there’s not a single damn thing you can do? 

This could have been a conversation about grief and friendship and growth and complex emotions. But we made it about the race of a rapist instead. 

That’s how much we don’t want to talk about feelings. 

We would focus on a man talking for the first time about the anger of helplessness in the face of a friend’s pain and come out in outrage. 

Here’s the reality guys, racism is forming a series of patterns based on skin color that aren’t true. They can be based off stereotypes or influenced by false representation in sensational news. Racism is NOT fighting your brain’s reality in order to form a more balanced understanding of the world. I was assaulted by a bunch of black kids at a playground when I was 14, it was terrifying and it’s a long and complex story but the short of it is very simple: I lived in a black neighborhood and this was not my only experience with black kids. I went to school with middle class black kids and I hung out with other black kids, this was NOT my only experience, and therefore, my brain was capable of nixing the pattern before it was created. Black kids weren’t dangerous, those kids were just assholes. 

Racism is if Neeson went to those places and started fights. I can’t know whether he did or not, but it’s if he went around and accused every black man of being a rapist, in his head or otherwise. I didn’t have a lot of experience with big white guys, so it took me much longer not to feel nervous around them than it did to write off my brain’s pattern about the black kids. Emotions and how our brains work are important details for us to know, and it’s the real reason diversity matters, it keeps our patterns in context. Neeson coming out of the situation horrified at himself shows growth of emotion, the dismissal of the pattern, recognizing that it is false without acting on it, understanding the power of agency is an illusion because he would never find that particular man. 

Comparing this to the policing issues isn’t the same, because of their place in society, their home culture society, and the results of their opinions. A police officer has a responsibility to the public to understand their emotions and their racial biases, an actor is responsible for displaying emotion. We can’t hold these people to the same accountability, that would be ridiculous, for a police officer, emotions need to be stable and understood and should involve a LOT more psychology training. For an actor... they entertain us with their emotions. They need to be self aware and reflective in order to project our experiences in stories. We still expect race car drivers to follow the speed limits and we understand that doctors have to call in sick sometimes, the world isn’t fair and occupation doesn’t dismiss personal biases or professional demeanor, but context matters. A doctor calling in sick after handling small pox in a lab requires observation and questions, an actor talking about rage and looking for a fight when he was younger and confessing horror at that version of himself while promoting a film about revenge kind of seems like part of the job, of doing the job well.  

And it’s not racist because it was not instigated by the color of skin as perceived by an individual to be less or more - he was inviting a fight with a black man on the word of his friend. That was wrong, and so was me doing it with large white men (also because I am not that large of a white woman, so that wasn’t going to end well for me), but he even said in a follow up interview that they could have killed him. The interviewer says she thinks of the innocent black man that could have been killed and Neeson responds “Or he could have killed me.” BUT HE WASN’T INSTIGATING FIGHTS, he was INVITING them! He wasn’t looking for an innocent man, he was waiting for someone to try to hurt him so he could release the extreme emotions. These are different. These are SO different. 

This conversation can go back to what it could have been. Race of the rapist aside, what do you do when a person you love confides in you that they have been hurt and scared and they are breaking apart in front of you? How do you process your emotions and heartbreak? What can you do or say? How can you feel like you’re helping? Is that selfish? Why do we need to feel like we’re helping? How do you manage your own trauma so you don’t loop theirs in with yours? How do you self reflect so that you stop your brain forming false patterns when you’re filled with so much hurt and pain? How do you not become a villain of the world, hating everyone for always telling you you are helpless? How do you find control in yourself when you’re imploding and be responsible and mature with emotions? How do you talk about it in a society that wants to be angry? How do you not hate them for focusing on your reaction to a rapist rather than being angry with an individual for being an asshole and RAPING your friend?

How do we return to a conversation about emotions and how, unchecked, they can lead to pain and anger and rage, and eventually, if we don’t have a moment of clarity and rationality, if we are not balanced in the world, they can become biases that develop into ignorance and racism? How do we focus on context so that we don’t become arrogant and disconnected, classists by nature because we interact with such a small and similar world? How do we connect and talk about the human experience when society turns away from us in favor of what is familiar? How do we have a logical discussion about emotion when we can’t even talk about meaning and intent? How do we accuse someone of racism when, had the rapist been white, the conversation might have focused on the context of emotion and pain and hurt and the process of healing - it was the outraged audience that pointed at the race as important, as the meaningful factor, how do we look at that hypocrisy and not feel utterly defeated?

How do we scream at the world that we need help, we all need help, without crucifying ourselves? I have no idea, this post is terrifying and I have no idea what to expect. Maybe nothing would be good? To return to not a single note or like or comment, to be unheard and dismissed and navigated around might be good because I want to talk about this reality but it. Is. Terrifying. 

And maybe it’s all a projection. Maybe I’m the racist and I want to defend someone I relate to. But it feels more right that we as a society don’t talk about emotions, we lock them up like these secret things we’re terrified other people will discover. I’m working on vulnerability lately, and what better place to talk about all the shit that’s ever happened to me than the freakin’ internet! I’m just a person and from my experiences, I think I understand what Neeson meant. But that could equally be a self-aggrandizing reality that doesn’t exist. Perhaps he’s just a racist, a professional actor with a successful career who took this exact moment to reveal his true colors, what a sneaky man! 

But more probably, the logic says, he’s a professional actor with a successful career who took this moment to discuss the emotions he’s had to reflect on and relive for the past year or so in order to play a role in a film that he hopes will entertain and reflect something of the human experience. He more probably took the moment to discuss a human experience and we did not listen because it’s more popular not to listen or because we could not relate or because we just want to be angry and sometimes pulling weeds is so exhausting we raze the whole garden instead. We did not talk about the moment he was horrified with himself because we don’t want to talk about growth or greys, we want the world to stabilize so we can see the bad guys clearly. 

We really ought to know by now that there are no clear bad guys. 

And we know Neeson likes to play in those lines. What is good? What is bad? They aren’t a duality, they are a false dichotomy, created by whatever world you grew up in, whatever experiences you had, whatever your society or culture told you, whatever education you discovered, and whatever philosophy you’ve come to believe. But in a moment of vulnerable confession, in all that grey reality, your friend tells you about a bad guy and they become singularly bad. They don’t exist beyond that. And that’s what is horrifying. That you stop seeing humanity as grey and suddenly it becomes good or bad, that’s the scary part about revenge and inviting fights, it encourages a black-and-white view of the world that says the rapist is ONLY bad and your friend is ONLY good. 

A bit ironic that, in trying to talk about that tunnel-vision-rage, Neeson found himself the target of it.

It’s raw, that anger. It’s part of all the hurt that has happened to you and then you couldn’t even protect your friend or family. Why did you go through all that pain if you couldn’t grow enough to save them? That guilt is a liar, you didn’t hurt them, the asshole did, and you need that to be true or else you were also the cause of all your own pain as well. So you look for the assholes because then at least you could be useful, you could protect them from one asshole by taking the hit. We need to talk about that kind of hurt, about sacrificing the self for revenge because you can’t find worth anymore. We need to talk about existential nihilism that hides inside outrage because you can’t find meaning anymore. We need to talk about emotions and how to talk about them so we can be better friends, better people, so when we look for guidance on talking to friends about their hurt, we find advice on how to not be overwhelmed by rage and guilt and disgust and anger and violence. 

That’s the conversation we could have had. That’s the world we could have started to create. But outrage culture is racist and racism gets attention and we all just want to be heard because we don’t know how to talk about our emotions. Interesting how it keeps going around like that. 

[scriptshrink]

my mc was held captive and tortured for three years as a child, being rescued at 9 years old. they developed c-ptsd. in the current story theyre 19--i was wondering, what sort of signs of the trauma would you see in them after that long, if theyve been going to frequent therapy & had a lot of support through recovery etc? and if an extremely traumatising event happened now, could it bring back old symptoms again? they are also autistic, if that changes anything. thank you!

CW: Trauma, child abuse, torture

Snail

A traumatising event could definitely bring back old symptoms. It wouldn’t have to be “extremely” traumatising. 

Some symptoms might flare up again if they are triggered by something like seeing a person who looks similar to one of their captors, for example. 

The autism can interact with the trauma response so that following a trigger or after re-traumatisation they seem to others to be “more autistic”(I can lose speech, have increased difficulty interpreting non-literal language, have greater difficulty gauging my internal states)

(I cut off contact with my mother because every time I spoke to her it would take me days to recover, during which time I found it impossible to know if I was hungry or not and Other Problems) 

In times soon after trauma my sensitivity to sound has been very heightened - much more than usual.

The amount of time elapsed is not necessarily a good indication of what the continued impact on your character is. People all respond differently. Some people don’t develop PTSD/C-PTSD at all, whereas for others the condition lasts decades. There are lots of things that impact how likely one is to develop a disorder as a result of exposure to trauma (for example duration of trauma, type of trauma, previous experiences of trauma). 

Signs of trauma you might see in them: 

scars 

ongoing pain (eg. back problems from trauma to spine) 

a whole raft of possible symptoms from traumatic brain injuries (problems with balance, vision, tinnitus) 

aversion to things that remind the MC of the trauma

making sure that they always have a clear path to the exit in social situations (this could be always sitting next to the door so that they can escape quickly, or always facing the door so that they can see anyone coming in or anyone moving to cut off access to the exit)

conditioned responses as a result of their time in captivity - for example, if they were punished for walking across the room they might still persist in always walking around the outside of a room if they need to get to the other side. 

volatile relationships with peers or with people in positions of authority 

poor self-esteem

There would also likely be an impact on things like the character’s reading and mathematical ability (from missing three years of education at an important stage).

I just want to add - 10 years is in some ways a long time, but also not. Your main character has been treated horrifically, they spent three years in captivity, three years being tortured. That’s… that’s not a small thing. And while therapy and support are very important and will help your character, it’s not a magic bullet that makes everything better.If you as the author want a character who is extremely traumatised, you’ve got all the ingredients you need.

An innocent question from another character about “what was your favourite planet when you studied the solar system in third grade?” is suddenly a very difficult one - does your character lie, change the topic, or say “actually, when I was supposed to be in the third grade I was being held captive and I didn’t see the sun for three years, much less study the solar system”. 

As an autistic person, your character is likely to find this sort of situation even harder. It can be hard to judge when it is appropriate to talk about traumatic experiences - especially, for your character, if they have spent a lot of time being encouraged to talk about the trauma in therapy and by carers. It isn’t always clear if someone is asking because they want to know the real answer or if they are just making conversation. 

Even if your character has no trauma response from that type of conversation, the amount of processing needed to judge what to do can be very tiring: “is this person asking because they really want to know? even if they do know, are they a safe person to tell? if I don’t tell them about my childhood, what can I say instead? can I lie? what lie can I use? can I say I don’t want to talk about it? how do I do that without being rude?”And that’s on top of the normal processing your character has to do when interacting with other people. All of this is very tiring, and could lead to your character shutting down and not responding, having a melt-down, or just answering with the truth out of default, even if it is not a safe/suitable time to do so.

Anon01

I don’t know if this one would count as PTSD or C-PTSD because straight up torture is something distinct you can point at and say “that, that’s what messed me up” instead of C-PTSD which as I understand isn’t a distinct “big bang” of trauma but rather a series of smaller traumas (correct me if I’m wrong?)… either way, one of the signs of prolonged exposure to childhood trauma involves learning the behaviours as “normal” and doing it for themselves, long after the aggressor is gone, not because the person doesn’t know they’re hurting themselves, but because they’ve never learned any better in terms of life experience and as they get older new things will challenge their worldview of what’s okay, even as they intellectually understand what’s they’re doing is not good.  Think of it as a Pavlovian response rather than a conscious decision.Whatever “a lot” of therapy and “support” is supposed to mean, the short answer is it’s not a quick fix.  Many people struggling with mental illnesses have less, hm, “hardcore” experiences and still under the best of circumstances, with therapy (which you must understand YMMV) and support (support network of ~common~ mental problems get real sick of it real quick, so support for torture needs to be actually qualified and not just friends curing with love)

If an extremely traumatising event happened ten years after the initial cause ended?  Yes.  That’s hardly a long time in terms of recovery.I can’t speak about autism but I will say that generally certain types of disabilities get more abuse than others, physical disabilities is one, and yes autism is another.I will add that from the ask, it feels like the author’s done enough research to have the terminology and general feel down, but is still in the uncanny valley of writing experiences to get the details quite right.  I’d go back and review why they picked this millefeuille of issues, and make sure it’s not fetishizing torture, child abuse, and autism.  I get it, fiction will often ramp things up to 11 to get a more visceral feel, I’ve written some horrendous things myself just to cope (not even for publishing, just for the catharsis), at the same time I’d advise ramping it down a notch, because while all three things are real things that happen, most of the audience in a general sense will relate more to more realistic depictions.  Unless your story is set in a fictional world.  Then just make sure whatever you’re doing is consistent with the world’s rules. 

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