#TST imagine

[ashley-foster-13]

Hi! Me again, I just can't stop reading tmr headcanons. Can I request 'what would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho.' Thank you!

What would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho

- His s/o was not the type to throw themselves in danger

- however, when the berg showed on the horizon, they were one of the first people to put their hands on a rifle

- Thomas got there late, and there was no s/o in sight, so he figured they were safe

- until they sprang out of nowhere, trying to tackle Janson

- the nearby soldier knocked them out right away

- Thomas struggled against the two soldiers holding him down

- misplaced his shoulder in the process

- he yelled the name of his s/o so loudly he probably wouldn't be able to speak for a week

- a huge fight started, during it the kids, including his s/o were loaded in the berg and took off

- being reckless as he is, Thomas managed to keep Janson off board, beating the living hell out of him

- soldiers stopped him, but not before Ratman was half dead and bleeding

- Thomas didn't hide his tears

- was terrified Wicked would experiment on s/o, or kill, or God knows what else

- wouldn't stop thinking about how to save them

- would do anything to get them out alive

- would have dreams when he saves them and hugs and kisses them, wakes up with tears of happiness streaming down his cheecks only to realize it wasn't real and cry some more, but in fear and sadness

- after saving his s/o, Thomas is super overprotective of them

- like, every little thing, a paper cut or a bruise or a slightly different voice would make him run towards them, asking if they were okay

- eventually came back to normal

- but we all know he's soooooo caring and protective

- the moment he saw his s/o in Wicked's arms, his world stopped

- however, he got out of his stupor quickly, trying to run for you, but the soldier kicked his bad leg, causing him to fall

- when he finally managed to stand up, s/o was already gone

- he kept yelling curses at them, kept hitting those injured soldiers who were left there to die

- it helped nothing and he knew that

- honestly, he could've murdered someone if not for Minho, who held him in a tight hug until he calmed down

- his anger turned to an agony

- he was crying hard, because he was in terrible pain, physically and emotionally

- he vowed to get s/o back safe and sound

- would be the first to find them, as if he felt where they were

- didn't let go of their hand until they reached the Safe Haven

- both didn't go out of the hut for a couple of days, talking, crying and promising their love to each other

- when he barely escaped being captured by Wicked, he thought the victory was there

- little did he know they grabbed s/o instead

- s/o bravely fought the soldiers, but Minho couldn't see it

- and then his s/o stands on the berg, helplessness in their eyes as they take off

- and Minho just stands there, angry at Wicked, and furious with himself for being unable to help

- Newt and Thomas promise they'll find his s/o

- he became very grumpy after that, but also really really silent

- sometimes his bottled up feelings would unleash on everyone because of any little thing

- like a stupid question, or a fallen fork

- he wpuld be so eager to find his s/o he didn't even think when he stalked inside the Wicked headquarters fighting off every soldier like they were bugs

- he found s/o exhausted, hurt and bleeding

- but they were alive, that's all that mattered

- hugged them all the way back

- watched as the medics patched them up, controlling everything

- never leaving their side while rlthey recovered

[updownlately]

too shy to say (but i hope you stay)

| leah williamson x reader | fluff | 3.6k | inspo: come out and play by billie eilish | a/n: got this ask a couple days ago and i just couldn't resist the temptation of grinding this one out! to whoever sent it in, i really hope you're feeling better now and that you like this one!

~~~

You weren’t one to get sick, you really weren’t. In the past handful of years, you could count on one hand the number of times you got sick- flu, cold, food poisoning or otherwise. So when you woke up in the morning, nose all stuffy, a pounding headache making your eyes hurt and the room feeling a bit too hot even for a London summer, you had a gut-sinking inkling of what was going on. 

Slowly sitting up, wincing at the increasing intensity of your headache, the movement only seeming to make it worse. hands lethargically coming to rub away the sleep from your eyes, you reached for your phone. 

7:54 am. Two hours earlier than you need to be up, just great. 

Dropping your phone back onto the nightstand, you contemplated whether going to school or work was even going to be worth it today. You really didn’t want to attend class, already exasperated with the thought of getting ready just to sit in an hour and a half long lecture when you could just take a look at the slide deck online.

Plus work…did you ever really want to go? Sure you had great coworkers and all, but work was work. And the idea of being a human punching bag for customers that were already unhappy with their lives wasn’t something you thought you were capable of today. 

Making the decision then and there, you shot off a quick text to your manager and then your friends, letting them know you wouldn’t be able to make it today.

Tossing your phone aside and sinking back into your sheets, you ignored the slight dampness of your forehead, more content to just hopefully sleep off whatever it was that you had. 

~~~

You hated this. You hated being sick. It hadn’t even been more than a half hour since you had originally woken up, yet here you were again, stuffy nose making it near impossible to breathe comfortably. Oh how you dearly missed when your nose wasn’t plugged. 

Groaning in annoyance, you swallowed audibly, trying to keep your frustration at bay.

The scratchiness of your throat made every second that you were awake painful and all you wanted to do really was sleep, but then the congestion in your chest made that near impossible. Couple the two with the pounding headache and the way your whole body ached and you really didn’t know what to do. All you knew was the it really fucking sucked.

Eyes closing, you quickly ran through what you needed to do in order to get better. Remembering from when you were a teen and had to take care of your brothers, you made a mental list. Painkillers, cough syrup, tissues, sweet caroline- wait? sweet caroline? 

Snapping out of your thoughts, you focused into the present, hearing your phone ringing beside you, the ringtone reserved for a singular special person. 

Picking up the phone, you let a small smile spread across your face at the caller ID.

“Morning Leah.” Your voice came out much scratchier than normal and you silently hoped that the blonde didn’t notice. “Morning love, how are you doing? I hope I didn’t wake you? I was just getting ready to head out, thought I’d ring you.”

You hummed in response, contemplating whether you should tell the English skipper of your current state. You didn’t want her to worry about you, especially not when her own knee issues were currently bothering her. 

“I’m okay. And no you didn’t wake me, in fact I’m glad you called, I was missing you,” you hummed.

No sooner than as the words left your mouth, you could hear Leah going on about something at the other end of the line, continuing the conversation, but you couldn’t pay attention- not when your eyes were involuntarily closing, hearing momentarily pausing as your body geared up to sneeze.

Once, then twice, and then a handful more times, you could feel your whole body jolt with each one, room spinning in between.

It was after your fifth consecutive sneeze that you finally had a moment of reprieve. Gathering your bearings, you brought the phone that you had accidentally thrown to the side back up to your ear.

“Sorry about that, had to sneeze.”

“Really? Couldn’t tell,” the cheeky reply caused you to smile and roll your eyes. “You sure you’re doing okay though? Your voice sounds a bit nasally and while normally that wouldn’t be concerning, you just sneezed like 800 times in a row.

“Ha-ha very funny Ms. Captain. I appreciate your concern but I’m most definitely fine. Just the dust y’know?”

“Hey! Uncalled for…” You could almost feel her pout through the phone, glad that your slight distraction worked, or so you thought.

“Well since you’re doing fine, you wouldn’t mind if I FaceTimed you right now, right?”

“I mean I just woke up, I look terrible so I do mind,”

“Oh shush, I’ve seen you wake up, and must you know, I find the sight quite appealing,”

“Flirt”

“Sicko”

“Allegedly”

You were about to continue your protests of being okay, mouth opening to tell Leah that you were just tired, but a coughing fit cut you off, a dial tone faintly heard in between your sharp inhales.

Just as you got yourself collected, the phone in your hands started buzzing again, this time Leah popping up on your screen, a sweet smile on her face.

“Doing okay huh? Sure Rudolph.”

“My nose can’t be that red, surely? I’ve only been up for about a little bit.”

“Baby you look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

“Thanks” you grumbled.

Rolling her eyes fondly, Leah continued. “Listen I have to head to rehab soon but after that I’m dropping by, and don’t even try to discourage me.”

“Leah I’m fine, I swear, just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I’ll be good in a couple hours.”

“Nope…not taking no for an answer. I’ve got to drive out now but you make sure to eat and hydrate okay? I’ll be over as soon as I can. I love you.”

Not having any energy to fight the headstrong blonde, you had no choice but to agree. “I love you too…bye you stubborn skipper.”

Letting leah cut the call, you let out another groan. You didn’t want the footballer to worry about you, very much well aware that she had enough on her plate already. Unfortunately for you, it turns out you and her had something in common, your high levels of stubbornness a shared quality. 

Unwilling to be in such a disheveled state when Leah dropped by in a few hours, you decided to quickly grab a shower and freshen up, to maybe even try and get a few bites of food in so that you could take some medicine. 

Untangling yourself from the warmth of your sheets, you stood up to leave, room immediately spinning faster than the rides at a fair. Today was going to be a long day…

~~~

Eight months into a relationship…is that enough time to be doing this? Leah couldn’t help but ponder that exact question, turning your apartment key in her hands. You had given it to her at the 5 month mark for your relationship, citing it would be helpful in the case of an emergency. She hadn’t used it once though, at least not until now.

See, she would’ve more than happily waited for you to answer your door, but the problem was that you weren’t. After a handful of knocks, a few missed calls, and double-digits of minutes waiting, Leah figured that it would be okay to use it now, right?

Slightly worried for your wellbeing as well, deciding that at worst you’d be a little upset, Leah went ahead and unlocked the door. Better an upset girlfriend than one stuck in a poor situation of any sort.

Slowly easing the door open, the eerie silence of your apartment had the blonde concerned. You weren’t one to live in silence, always having some album or playlist playing through your speakers in the house. It seemed that the sickness was hitting you harder than she had initially thought. 

Placing the grocery bag in her arms onto the floor, the skipper made quick work of her shoes, shutting the door behind her and locking it. 

Quietly padding to the island, she began to empty out the contents of the bag to sort them out. Taking out the items, she laid them out in front of her, trying to recall what item was needed as per the instructions of her mum. 

Grabbing the cough syrup, painkillers, cough drops, a glass of water, and a thermometer, Leah set the items on a tray and started the trek to your bedroom.

She really hoped you had ate by now, well aware of her lack of abilities in the kitchen (listen- she made up for it on the pitch okay?)

Pushing your ajar door open, Leah stepped into your dark room. immediately noticing the stuffiness and then the sight of your curled up figure tucked into one corner of the large bed. 

Slowly walking further into the room, she placed the tray on your nightstand, one that already seemed littered with a handful of different medications, a box of Kleenex, and what appeared to be a glass of apple juice. 

The Englishwoman took a seat on the edge of your bed, hand coming to gently brush against your forehead, pushing your matted baby hairs out of the way. Placing the back of her hand to your now visible skin, like she had experienced her mother do many times with her, Leah felt for a temperature, one that was very apparent from the first few seconds really. You really were, in fact, burning up. 

Picking her phone from out of her joggers, the blonde shot off a quick text to her mother, doubling checking what she was supposed to do to help with bringing it down before clicking it off. Placing it back in her pocket, the skipper figured that as tired as you were, it would be a good idea to wake you up to see if you had at least ate or taken any medication.

Running her thumb softly over your cheek, the other coming to rest on your shoulder, Leah slowly rose you out of your slumber, the gentle ministrations causing you to smile subconsciously.

Waking up in a daze, surprised at the feeling of another’s hands on your face, you immediately went to rub at your eyes, not believing the Leah shaped figure at your side.

“You actually came…” Your voice came out hoarse, disbelief laced in the words, the both of you wincing at the scratchiness, before Leah handed you the glass of cool water.

Sipping gratefully, you nearly emptied the whole glass before turning back to your girlfriend.

“Why wouldn’t I have come? You’re not doing well, I’m not going to have you suffer alone.”

“You might get sick too…”

“Worth it,” she shrugged, as if it was that simple of a solution to potentially getting sick.

“Leahhhh,” you dragged out her name, too sleepy to do anything else to confront her.

“Listen, I know how much you hate being sick, and you don’t get sick often either, so let me take care of you okay? Please? And then when I get sick you can return the favour? How does that sound?”

Shaking your head, you let out a huff. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“You love me for it”

“Yeah, I wonder why sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Always”

“Good”

“Leah…” you shook your head at her antics, the smile on your face betraying the annoyed facade you had on.

“I love you.” 

You huffed, crossing your arms and choosing not to reply. At your prolonged silence, Leah started poking your cheeks, her fingers gently prodding your face.

“Say it back. C’mon, you have to. Baby…say it back so I can start taking care of you.” 

Sighing in amusement at her persistence and never ending poking, you lethargically reached out to grab her hands, stopping both right before they hit your cheek for the umpteenth time.

“I love you too, you pain.”

Grinning in victory, Leah wiggled her right hand free and patted your cheek. “Okay good. Now, with that done, I need you to open your mouth, gotta take your temperature to see what we’re working with here.”

Saluting her, an “aye aye nurse Leah” escaping your lips, you waited as she prepped the thermometer before placing it carefully in your mouth. 

Wincing as it went under your tongue, your mind flashed back to when your mother would do this to you as a kid, the uncomfortableness of it not escaping you even after nearly fifteen years had passed.

“Everything okay? I didn’t place it down awkwardly or too rough, right?”

You nodded the best you could with the thermometer in your mouth, carefully to not jostle it around too much, heart melting at her attentiveness. Blinking your eyes and turning up the sides of your lips slightly, you hoped that she got the message that you were okay. 

When you took the thermometer out a minute later, the electronic screen read a 38.9º, you knew you nearly had a high fever. 

Checking her phone, Leah confirmed the same.

“Are you asking Google if my fever is high?” you asked, body shaking with slight laughter.

“I-“ A slight blush crossed your girlfriend’s face, one barely visible if it wasn’t for the illumination of her phone. “I had my mum send me a short guide on what I need to do for what situation…I’m just reading that.” she admitted shyly.

“Oh Leah…” you nearly melted, a pout appearing on your face. “I love you.”

Her bashful smile growing into a more confident one, Leah reiterated the sentiment with joy, never one to shy away from reminding you just how much she cared for you.

“Okay so according to this, placing a cool, damp washcloth on your forehead might help with the fever, and so will taking some Paracetamol…speaking of, have you eaten yet?”

You couldn’t help but smile softly at Leah’s rambling and question. You knew the blonde was protective and cared greatly not only for you but for everyone in her life, but getting to be on the direct receiving end of it? it was a feeling like no other, and you were sure that the warmth coursing through your body right now was more than just the fever, Leah’s affection bringing you a sense of comfort even as chills wracked your body.

“I did…had a feeling you wouldn’t want to step into the kitchen so I had a sandwich about…” You checked the time on your phone, “…two hours ago? Is that enough?”

“I’m assuming ideally you’d want to eat within at least the last hour of taking the medicine. You think you’d be up for that?”

“Leah, love, the better question here is whether you think you’re up for cooking, seeing as I don’t have anything ready to eat in my fridge right now.”

“I brought some food with me.”

Throwing your head back in appreciation, the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them.“Leah…god I could marry you right now.”

“In sickness and health am I right?” came the cheeky reply almost instantly.

You rolled your eyes in good nature, your smile permanently stuck on your face it seemed, a giddy feeling overtaking you.

“Eventually.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded in response, too afraid you’d ask her to marry you on the spot with the way she was so tenderly taking care of you right now.

Shooting you an award-winning smile, Leah carefully made her way off the bed, going to clean the thermometer and grab the food options that she brought. 

Returning within minutes, she had somehow managed to bring in a whole plate with an assortment of food. 

“Alright, so from what I was told, these would be the best foods for you right now…I’ve got apple slices, a few sandwiches, some assorted cut up fruit- none that will irritate your throat though- and a couple other snacks.”

You couldn’t help but stare at the defender in shock, mind appalled at seeing first-hand the level of effort she had gone through. 

Blinking once, then again, you looked between the food and then back at her, going back and forth a few times before closing your eyes due to the dizziness. 

“Everything okay love?”

“I- you did so much…you’re doing so much…I-,” you stumbled out, not sure how to properly express your gratitude.

“Honey, you deserve to be taken care of, you know that right? I’m just giving you what you deserve. And we both know you’d do the same for me, no hesitation, so let me do it for you alright?” And just like that, the defender knew exactly how to crush all your intrusive thoughts with just a few sentences.

Nodding dumbfoundedly at just how well she knew you, you grabbed a sandwich, unwrapping it and taking a bite.

Swallowing, you used your free hand to grab another sandwich, holding it out to the englishwoman. 

“Have you eaten? I’m assuming with how much effort went into this and the fact that you had rehab, breakfast was the last thing you had?”

Leah took the sandwich in your hands without much protest, confirming your thoughts. 

Between bites, she talked you through what she planned for the next little bit, checking with you on what you needed as well. 

The pair of you eventually decided that you’d have your medication and then let Leah try and lessen your fever with a some damp washcloths, after which the pair of you would likely settle down for a movie, putting as much space as you could between one another to limit the likelihood of transmission (spoiler alert: it really didn’t do much).

Letting yourself be loved, you both quickly finished off the food before cleaning up, Leah taking the tray and the dishes to the kitchen to put those in the sink, and you opening up your windows and tidying your room slightly. 

Just as you made your way back to your side of the bed, Leah came back into the room, arms full of the necessary things required for the lessening of your temperature.

As you watched her quietly get settled beside you, you really couldn’t believe you had gotten this lucky. No one was really there to take care of you besides your stressed mother as a child and thus, you hated being sick, not wanting to burden the already stressed woman. Now though, with the blonde defender that was here, taking care of you in every aspect, not letting you suffer alone, you figured that if it always led to this, that you’d take the lonely days as a childhood in stride in every universe, as long as she ended up in your life.

And as you both finally settled down for a movie, fever waned down enough for it to be considered mild, nearly non-existent, fingers just barely intertwining in the large gap between your two bodies, you let the tiredness in your body settle, the love you had for the other girl calming your anxiety of being stressed, bringing you peace. 

You knew you were lucky, the way Leah knew you so well. How she decided to visit even though you’d be fine alone. How she sensed to bring you food and take care of you, well aware you could manage by yourself but not wanting you to. How she knew to visit, even though you were hesitant to ask. You dearly hoped that this would be your life for a long time, not the sickness but the love, hoping it could grow, the flowers of it creating a garden in your hearts. 

Yawning, you squeezed Leah’s hands three times, a silent ‘i love you’, as you let her presence lull you to sleep, body sated with food and love, just rest left to do. Eyes closing, you silently appreciated her love as she tucked you in, unaware of your half-awake state. By the time the tiredness overtook you, you knew that you’d wholeheartedly do anything for the blonde, just like she had done for you, wanting to be the one she took care of for the rest of her life, wanting to be the one who got to take care of her, to make her smile, to love her to ends of the universe and back. 

Smiles on the both of your faces, the two of you fell asleep partway through the movie, hands slowly itching towards the other, bodies slightly tangling, puffs of breaths in the increasingly smaller space between you two as your limbs found each other, your face eventually tucking into the crook of her neck, her arms wrapping around you. 

Maybe, just maybe, being wasn’t that terrible after all. Not when you had her to take care of you, to love you, to stay when you were too shy to ask.

(And lucky enough for you, you very much got the chance to shower her in as much, if not more love when she inevitably, shockingly, somehow magically, got sick only a few days later. Wonder how that happened…)

[saintstars]

Herald of Melkor

(Toxic by Britney Spears starts playing)

~ Langon concept

[yikestripes]

when the air starts to turn cold and the music ive been listening to recently starts to sound like my maze runner obsession is starting to come back

i sent my friend a gif of newt last night from the movie and today while i was driving Safe and Sound came on my spotify and i was like OH HELLO SONG I USED TO LISTEN TO WHEN I WOULD READ NEWT MAZE RUNNER FANFICTION

it is t i m e

[fluffypotatey]

The real reason Dashner had to fridge Rachel is because she's too powerful. She'd have clocked the Salamander Siblings in 5 seconds FLAT.

First lunchtime at the WCKD outpost, she's staring a hole through Newt and doing a mental checklist in her head between him and Sonya.

Aris: Rachel? What are you doing?

Rachel, internally:

Blond/e? ✅️

British? ✅️

Kind of a bitch? ✅️

Only one allowed to call their bf/gf by a specific nickname (Tommy, Harry)? ✅️

One third of an unhinged BFF trio sharing a single braincell? ✅️

Rachel: HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE.

Everyone else in the cafeteria: 👀👀👀👀👀

THATS WHAT IM SAYING!!!!!

the character potential of Rachel interacting with Thomas and the Gladers was too powerful that she had to be only mentioned (DASHNER WHEN I GET YOU!!!). she only became a cautionary tale to movie!Thomas that ended being for nothing since Teresa would have never ended up like Rachel

and then book!Rachel 🥺 girlie was IN with the Icers (technically a title given to them by the movie verse but who cares) and fought with them to escape. they had way more survivors out of the Maze with her being one of the few casualties (forced friendly fire which is such BULLshit and overhand on WCKD’s part that is not how you play an experiment!!! that’s covering your bases and forcing your own confirmation biases BUT WHAT DO I KNOW)

and just OUGH 🫠 like if movie!Aris pressed more for Thomas to free Rachel, then plus we have gotten a chance to see her???? sure she’d be dead weight at first and run more of a risk of escape, but like once they’re all free, she’d be out in the Scorch with them. Aris wouldn’t feel as much as an outsider. AND maybe!!!! we’d get some more WCKD lore bc Teresa gatekept that shit even when her memories returned

also just Rachel staring at Newt over the campfire, doing her mental checklist between Sonya and Newt (Newt steadily growing uncomfortable bc she’s not blinking) before finally bursting out “if your hair was longer, you could be identical”

“what?”

“nothing,” and then she just conks out next to Aris as if she didn’t rip the floor from under Newt

[tricktster]

Every weekday morning when I have to leave from my boyfriend’s house, his kids (3 and 5) get indignant that their TST will not be back until the evening and demand to know why I have to go to work.

In response, I always shrug and say “That’s capitalism, baby!”

You can imagine my delight this morning when I went to grab my things and both kids groaned, unprompted “Capitalism??!?! AGAIN?!?!???”

[writingsfromhome]

That’s so True

A/N: this one’s sort of from a request in my inbox but coincidentally I came across a reel where this song was from the guy’s pov and it + the comments obviously got me inspired (IG: itschloeduvall—recommend!). It’s not my best but here’s a mash of your and Harry’s POVs based somewhat on Gracie’s TST <3

Part 2 (wip)

—————————————————

The stuffy room buzzed with the attendees of both schools that bordered our borough. There’s laughter and music flowing through the rooms and a laid-back atmosphere.

When our uniforms were on the school rivalry was always thick but at these sorts of house parties everyone was friendly. Yet despite it all I’m not as laid back as I want to be.

I lean against the kitchen island, and listen to my friends banter. From where I stand I can see the beer pong played on the table to my right but also all the way down the hall rammed with bodies to the front door.

“Bet you didn’t notice why I wore blue shadow,” Zoe bats her eyelashes up at me. She was a year younger than me and just as into me as all the other girls I’ve been with. She knew exactly how to handle herself and how to be fun. But that’s what made girls like Zoe cool. They adored you until they didn’t, and I would have fun with them before that expiry came around.

“I noticed,” I press a kiss to the shell of her ear.

“Really?” She laughs and pulls away. “You didn’t say!”

“Not right now,” I look down at her. I remember the first time she approached me leaning against my car in the parking lot. It was just days after I ghosted my last fling and I didn’t think I was going to have a new one so soon but when life gives you lemons...

“Why?”

“I was going to save the admiring for later.”

“Oh?” She puts her hands on her hips but there’s a tipsy sparkle to her eye. “Harry I don’t need to just be admired in private!”

“I’m here with you tonight aren’t I?” I brush her cheek, kiss her neck. “This is me admiring you publicly.”

“Really?” She murmurs.

I kiss her long and lingering in response.

“Well I don’t mind—public or private.” Zoe says when we part. The look in her eyes undresses me right there.

I don’t know why I look up just then but my line of sight to the door shows me exactly who walked in.

YN’s cheeks are flushed from the cold and I nearly remember the feeling of my burning lips against them.

The memory comes flooding back in a rush—the night we sat in my car by the chilly beach. We’d been hooking up for a couple weeks by then. And she had been crying and trying not to, and for the first time in my life I’d wanted to take all the pain away from someone. And it terrified me.

It got too close; I hated how it made me feel. I hated how it lingered. I had no choice but to quit her cold turkey after that. I try to push all of that out of my mind when I feel Zoe's hand on my arm.

“Would you be mad if I wanted to leave early with you? I bummed some stuff off my friend we could hang out in your car…”

“We can leave early,” I promise her. She was hard to resist. “Let’s just act like we’re interested in being here first though.”

Zoe gives me a peck and leans into me, her cheek resting on my chest. My gaze drifts back to YN, just in time for her to look my way. I force my eyes to slide off of her, she didn’t mean anything special. She wasn’t any more special than the girl in my arms.

But I can’t deny the physical jolt that goes through me, how the blood roars in my ears in the split second we locked eyes.

Fuck that. I don’t care. She should know I don’t. I imagine her watching me with Zoe, knowing she and I would only ever be another discarded fling.

“Your heart’s racing,” Zoe comments, cheek still glued to my chest.

“Feeling restless. I’m grabbing a drink.” I leave her a lingering kiss before I head to the beer pong part of the kitchen. But a sensation creeps up my neck I can’t shake.

I end chatting with some of the guys watching a football match—knowing them from the team when I played last season.

Zoe eventually joins me after making eyes at me across the room from the kitchen where she was caught in conversation. And even though there’s a few inches of space beside me and Marty on the couch she wriggles her way in, most of her body draped over me.

I don’t mind it, she was miniature sized. I tell her that.

“I could fit you in my pocket,” I muse.

She presses her palms into my chest, her eyes dark with want. “If I’m in your trousers I don’t want to be in your pockets.”

She laughs into the next kiss.

She really didn’t hold back.

“Watch watch watch,” Marty shoves my knee, jostling both Zoe and I as he leans forward on the couch beside us. “He’s gonna make thaaat—aw bollocks!”

We all laugh at Marty’s favourite player messes up a perfectly set-up goal.

“Y’sure he’s not getting paid on the side?” I joke.

“You shut your mouth,” he barely spares a glance to me, his eyes glued to the telly. “He’s a genuinely good guy.”

I glance at Zoe and amusement colours her face. I’m about to tell her something about the game when I feel a prick on the back of my neck. I glance around and there she is as real as the last time I saw her, her presence burning into my skin.

Zoe mirrors me, glancing around but clearly YN didn’t draw her in like she did me.

I distract her, tuck her hair behind her ear. If YN was watching I want her to see it all. I undo the clip in Zoe’s hair and it falls around her face. And just like she usually does, she cranes her face towards mine and I kiss her. She’s soft and smells like vanilla and vodka. She was confident and sexy but I’m bottomed out with a hollow feeling.

I fill it by kissing her again, desperate to get rid of it. Or maybe I just needed to get more drunk.

But my eyes betray me, flicking up briefly to YN. Her poker face betrays her with the clench of her jaw. I could hear her voice in my head accusing me of using Zoe, of being a coward. My heart picks up speed but I push it all down and focus on Zoe’s touch.

Maybe I was just feeling guilty because I knew she was going through a tough time personally. But it wasn’t my responsibility. I was a good person for feeling bad. I didn’t actually care about her.

-Your POV-

I only know time is passing because the muffled beats of the songs start and end like clockwork. Otherwise, I stay sitting on the garage steps in the dark. I’ve stopped noticing the dusty oil smell that clings to the air—it's all blended into the dark.

The party was getting too much as soon as I stepped in but I forced myself to stay because of my friends. But then an hour ago I was forced to stand there and watch Harry and his new girl slobber all over each other. I bided my time until my friends stopped watching me like a dog waiting to bolt—not that I could blame them. Because I bolted as soon as they stopped watching.

I wish I could get over it. All of it. Everything felt so heavy all the time.

Grams was moving to be closer to her sister now that she lived alone ever since Grandpa……left.

I couldn’t blame her. Wouldn’t I do the same? I was so selfishly thinking in the short-term when we both knew I’d be out of this damn town in a few months. And, I already booked my ticket to visit her this summer. It was supposed to be fine, right?

But why couldn’t I just move on?

And Harry. Fucking Harry. Why the hell did he get to me? He was taunting me and I was letting him.

But only in the dark here, slightly tipsy, a small part of me admits the hurt. It hurt.

But why? He was just some guy I had a short thing with. I wanted to lose myself to a fun casual fling. He was the type of guy who just liked to have fun, nothing serious. I knew it going in.

But he saw me so vulnerable. And the thing that gets me is how much he actually seemed like he cared that night. How his eyes drank in everything I was feeling and in that it felt like I wasn’t alone.

He surprised me by being sweet—which my rational brain knows is just a honey trap for girls. But it felt so genuine, like he truly was being sweet for me. How could I get over something like that!

Move on. He obviously has.

I let my eyes flick over to my phone, just for a second. I’m tempted to look at the stories from the party, from everyone inside. The party that I’m separated from by a single door—FOMO.

That’s a new low.

I pull my gaze away and try to ignore the impulse.

He had noticed me when I walked in. Even though he looked away I know he saw me because I saw him.

I’d heard he moved on—it’s crazy that this time last week we were in his car together. I was ready to trickle off after that heavy night but not before having a talk with him. It’s not like I was expecting him to be waiting around for me but I also didn’t expect him to be so cruel showing off and being obnoxious right in front of me with this new chick.

"Nah, I got it!" A voice near the door says. My heart skips a beat for a second. The voice—his voice. But it fades as quickly as it came.

I'm about to let out a sigh when the door swings open and a flood of light spills into the garage. It's blinding at first.

“Where the—ahh!” I whip my head up, but of course, I don’t need to see him to know it’s him.

He stands there, wide-eyed, caught off guard for a split second. Then he recovers, straightens his shoulders.

"What the fuck, YN?"

I don’t even answer him. I just turn away, chin on my knees, staring back into the dark.

In my silence he goes down leaving the door open a sliver to let the light in so he can see. I hold my breath when he passes, knowing breathing him in would engulf me in the exact same way it used to.

Not that I was nostalgic for it but I didn't want my brain playing tricks on me when I was a sitting duck here.

I track him as he heads to a small pile in the corner of the confined garage and pulls out a few six-packs. He stacks a couple and comes back my way.

There’s just enough space on the stairs for him to sit beside me without crowding me, and I can feel him hovering. I can feel him deciding whether to stay or leave.

Damnit. The step creaks softly as he chooses to sit, the door still cracked open behind him, casting a slice of light across his face.

I breathe in, catching the familiar scent of him. It floods my senses, sharp and heady like it used to. Shit.

I hate that a part of me wants to tell him to screw whatever game he was playing with me and just meet me upstairs. Somewhere dark and tucked away. But my dignity and the reminder of an unanswered text makes me pretend he didn’t affect me.

I hear the shift of cans in his hands. "Are you sulking out here?"

His voice is casual. Like us. Casual. He’s playing this like we can just go back to being nobody-classmates with each other.

I glare in the dark. "What’s it to you?"

"Didn’t take you for the sulking type," he says, leaning back a little like he’s amused by me.

"Well, that’s reassuring."

"What is?"

"How you don’t know me."

Our eyes meet for a beat, and it feels too much like everything between us again. But then his eyes crinkle with a cocky amusement and it pisses me off. Like he knows how annoying he is right now and it’s entertainment.

He adjusts the beer in his hands, then tilts his head toward the door, like I’m the weird one for not being inside with the rest of the people at the party.

"Why are you out here when the party's in there?"

I don’t answer right away. I can feel my pulse thrumming too loudly in my neck. I feel awashed in shame, hot waves down my neck; he knew exactly why I might be out here when the party’s in there. Is he playing dumb to show me how much he never cared, how unimportant my story was? Or is he trying to get me vulnerable again?

"None of your business," I snap, turning away.

The silence lingers a moment, but then—"s’it because of me?"

I blink. Did he just ask me that? He can’t possibly be that bold. And yet, the question is spoken like a secret.

I feel a sharp rush of irritation flood my chest. How dare he pity me. "Because of you?" I ask. "Do you really think the small blip of time we spent together affected me enough to isolate myself out here just because you brought some new shiny toy to the party? Get over yourself, Harry. I’ve got bigger things going on in my life."

For a moment, his face falls, the amusement fading, but it’s gone in a flash. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but the shout of someone inside calls his name. "Hurry up, man!"

I glance at him, his face had hardened into the cocky fuckboy we all know him to be. A complete contrast to the face that watched me that night.

He never existed.

"The eyes don’t lie," he says, leaning in just a little, his usual cocky smirk crawling back into place. "I see the way you’ve been watching me all night, YN. Say what you want to say—"

"Why are you here?” I interrupt. My skin prickles, my pulse quickening. I had something to say but he was making me too angry to say it. My words were for a gentler Harry, not this fucker. “Is it just to bother me because you can leave.”

He pauses, just for a second, his eyes darkening, but then he shrugs and gets up to go. "Well, sorry you’re missing out."

"I’m not missing out," I turn to say, my voice hoarse. "I’m just taking a breather."

But even as I say it, the words feel like a lie.

I stare at him, standing in the doorway. He pauses, half-turning. The smirk’s still there, but it’s thinner, like he’s pushing something down.

"Sad, sad girl," he murmurs, shaking his head, as if he's disappointed in me.

I scramble to get up--to cuss him out, to launch myself at him, I really don't know what; his condescending cocky tone sets something off in me.

But he knows exactly what that would do to me. By the time l've untwisted myself the door is slamming shut behind him and I'm left in the dark.

I swear loudly, the sound echoing off the walls like a threat. My fists clench. "Fuck him," I mutter.

All that responds is the silence and it feels suffocating.

-Harry’s POV-

She’s won’t give me the satisfaction of following me up but I know it gets to her—the way she stiffened when I said she was "missing out." And I know I’m a dick but it’s because for a moment there I almost fucked it all up and asked if she was okay.

I pull a new beer out, pop the cap, and take a long drink.

Your ego’s bruised, you’re trying to be cruel to hurt her.

I drink more.

I liked having fun. It’s part of being young—before I get old and have to settle down and get serious like all the adults in my life. I want to meet all kinds of girls and just have fun. I want to live without looking back with regrets—so no strings attached and no consequences.

Then she had to come along. With that sharp wit and broody eyes. She just approached me at a party like this one one day and by the end of the night we were hooking up.

My parents had been away for the weekend so the only thing to do was invite everyone over. But what started out as inviting my group, their dates, and some other girls led to nearly the entire class in my home.

“Mum’s gonna kill you,” my sister had said before she left the house. “You better clean it all up before she gets back and I’m not helping.”

“Duh,” I say. But it’s overwhelming this many people in my house.

After a few beers the overwhelm shies down to a forgotten thought in the back of my mind. I’m the man of the hour because I was throwing the party. Usually I was just attending them. This was different. Good-different.

Some of the guys are playing video games and I settle with one of the controllers but my loss is so painful I have to leave to get another drink and stay a few feet from any of the controllers.

After fucking around in the den and flirting with a couple girls younger than me I can’t remember the names of, I go back to where the game is being played.

My spot’s been occupied by YN—I’ve been in school with her for years but we’d only spoken a handful of times. We ran in different circles and she didn’t always show up to parties. But tonight she has a controller in her hand and her face is scrunched in concentration. It’s cute.

YN was cute, she was really smart and everyone knew she was going to graduate and do things that made the rest of us say we knew her when…

But in that way she was out of my league. Girls like her never bothered to hook up. They were always studying or in committed relationships. Last I heard she was dating someone in the year above us but they broke up before he graduated.

So that’s why I’m taken aback when she comes in second place and cheers with first. She knocks back her drink in celebration and somehow her eyes find mine.

I raise my brows and lift my beer to her. She grins and her face lights up—she’s really cute. I laugh and she mocks a bow while sitting. I shake my head at her before her attention’s stolen by first place asking her to play again.

My heart is pounding and I can’t stop looking her way. She agrees to playing again and even though I miss the round when I have to find more drinks, by the time I come back she’s just leaning into the couch, arms crossed and drink resting against her. She watches the screen but she glances when I walk back in.

She looks away. Then she looks back.

There’s a challenge in her eyes but I don’t know what she playing at. Girls like her simply didn’t hook up with guys like me so I didn’t want to read the signs wrong. She was probably being friendly and she was drunk.

But the stars must have been misaligned because after making eyes she stands confidently and walks over to me.

Her shoulders are bare in a sweater that wraps around them and when she comes closer it’s in a wave of a sharp clean scent. Her skin looks tantalizing like she’s put something glittery on it and I have to force myself to keep my eyes on her face and listen close above the music and my heart beating in my ears.

“You’re not jealous are you?” She asks.

“Of what?”

“Well I saw you playing earlier and it was…” she bites her lip.

“What?” I shake my head seriously. “You didn’t see that absolute loss happening from me.”

“I didn’t?” She raises her brow. “So that wasn’t you?”

“No! No it wasn’t. I uh, have a twin. Total loser. Didn’t you know?”

“A twin?” She asks with humour in her eyes. And I can’t believe her as she moves closer to me. The magnetism emanates from this new confidence she talks to me with. “What’s his name?”

“Why? Are you interested?” I ask.

“Well,” she blinks. “Clearly he needs some tips from a pro. I thought you could introduce me and I can show him how to win.”

Now she’s inches from me. I’ve done this dance a million times and yet I feel like I’m in unchartered territory. I always had the upper hand but she was catching me off guard. I had to flip this.

“Show him how to win?” I ask. I decide to make the first move, touch her. I take the hair that’s spilled over her shoulder and brush it back. Her eyes flicker down to my lips. “Why would a pretty girl like you waste your time doing that?”

“I’m more than a pretty girl.”

“Yeah I know. You’re smart as shit and a total killer over there.”

“Mhm,” she says. The sound shoots straight into my chest. “So? You won’t even introduce us? Tell me his name?”

“My brother…isn’t really your type.”

My hand slides down her back to her waist. Her hand comes up to my chest, up to my shoulders. I want to kiss her. Bad. Know what she felt like.

“You sound jealous. Won’t even give me his info.”

“Uh well,” do I kiss her—does she know I’m not into serious dating. “He’s…Gary….Styles.”

We lock eyes and then spring apart as laughter spills between us.

“Oh my god,” I choke. “I can’t believe that just-“

“Gary?!” She cries. “Was that-was that the best you could…”

She’s laughing too hard to finish, crouching down to contain herself.

“I was trying to think of a rhyming name!”

“Sure!” She tries to breath through her laugh. “Name him the most unsexiest thing ever!”

I laugh again. “I told you he wasn’t your type!”

That sets her off again and there’s a warm pride filling my chest at making her laugh this hard. Most people found me funny but seeing smart and pretty YN crouching down on my living room floor from laughing so hard, standing and brushing the tears out of her eyes—I could float on this feeling for a while.

“Fine.” She’s still smiling and I’m grinning just being around her. YN was cool—who knew. “Forget Gary.”

I slap my hand over my face and she laughs as she says it.

“C’mon,” she peels my hand off and instead of letting go she places it back on her waist. “You’ll do if he’s not around.”

“I-I’ll do?” I’m once again caught off guard. And if my ego wasn’t so inflated by her attention and laughter I would be fighting for dominance but she takes the lead once more. Like she was cool and confident and she knows what she’s doing.

“Yeah? Have you never hooked up Harry? I thought that’s what you did? Or was that your brother all along?”

“No!” I tug her waist. “That’s definitely me. Gary has no game.”

“Naturally,” she nods. “This is your place right? I’m guessing you have a room?”

She’s bold. Direct about what she wants from me. It’s different.

“I have to sleep in the room under the stairs. Gary has a bedroom upstairs though.”

“So all Harry’s sleep under the stairs then?” She grins. I laugh. She was cool. And funny. And cute, and flirty, and I wanted to kiss her.

“Most of them.” I look at her lips, they’ve got that glossy stuff on them and I imagine they taste like strawberries.

She quiets and leans in and when our eyes meet again I know she's thinking about kissing me too. We’re caught in limbo and when she tips forward it’s all the confirmation I need.

I grab the back of her head and bring our mouths together. She didn’t taste like strawberries. It was minty instead and the coolness prickles my lips as she trails her fingers up my neck.

My hands slide to her waist as we kiss and she moans when I slide my tongue into her mouth. She was so soft, and real. Her hands were on my chest, sliding over the fabric of my shirt. Holy fuck I was kissing YN. The feel of her lips was like a drug and I needed to get my fix.

I wanted to get closer. Know what her skin felt like under my palm. The idea made my heart beat faster. My hands travel there before I could think, my thumbs rubbing circles into her lower back.

“Maybe,” she breaks the kiss. Her eyes as dark as mine and her chest heaves against me. “Not here? We can find that bedroom.”

“Just what I was gonna say,” I can’t take my eyes off her. I don’t care how many people were here I wanted my lips back on her.

“So!?” She tugs me out of my daze and I apologize.

With a hand on the small of her back I guide her upstairs to my bedroom. Nobody’s here just like I told them not to be and by the time I close the door her gaze is flitting around my room.

“You like music?” She asks, pointing to the guitar and CDs in the corner of my room.

“I live and breathe it. Sorry for-“ I point to my clothes laying on my chair and the bed. I toss the ones on the bed onto the chair. I didn’t think I was hooking up with anyone like this tonight, too occupied with cleaning up later.

“You should see mine,” she shakes her head.

“Really? You seem like your room would be perfect.”

“Perfect?” Something flits across her face. “No. Definitely not. ”These days my room looks like a storm’s swept through.”

I walk back to her and brush her hair back again. Here, away from everyone else, she’s a little less bold. She’s softer. That overwhelming need to kiss her is still there but it’s enveloped by a need to hold her too. To savour her.

“My mum always says your room’s a reflection of your mind.” I say. “She’s always disappointed in mine.”

She lets out a short laugh. “Ha! That must be true.”

The look on her face again. I want to ask but I sense she doesn’t want to be asked. She looks behind us to my music instead.

“Yours must have a lot of music in it.”

“Yeah. Every moment.” I go with the change in subject. It wasn’t my business.

“Even this one?”

“Mhm,” I hum. I pull her in from her waist and press a kiss to her throat. I whisper against her skin, “Even this ones.”

Her body shudders and her voice is barely audible when she asks, “And what’s playing?”

I smile against her.

"You.” I tell her. “Your breath, your laugh, your heartbeat. It's a tune unique to you. Your song.”

“You’re good,” she laughs quietly before tilting her head towards me and our lips find each other again. This time we're alone and I don't feel bad for exploring. She was the most beautiful and surprising person I'd met and I didn’t want her to slip through my fingers.

She makes quick work of her sweater, pulling it over her head. It takes my breath away.

"Y’okay?" she asks.

I don’t know what to tell her with all the feelings rushing through me pumping with every racing heartbeat. So I go with, "You're beautiful."

Her face softens, I want her even more.

Her hands cup my face and I lean into her touch as she kisses me again. I let her have control for a bit, but her control is measured and soft and exploring. It feels careful.

She begins to take my shirt off and I do the rest, tossing it to the side. I nudge her gently towards the bed and she scoots up, taking down her hair. I never in a million years thought I would have her in my bed. That I would get to see this side of her. I feel lucky in a way. Luckier than anyone downstairs.

"So goddamn perfect," I say again. I climb onto the bed and kiss her lips. I work my way to her neck. It's the best thing I've had in a while. I reach her shoulder and suck at the skin there, the sound that escapes her lips is intoxicating. I want to hear it again.

I reach her collarbone, trailing wet kisses; she’s so much more perfect than I'd imagined. As we move and explore each other, she feels amazing but I pause when she slows down.

"What?" she asks.

"Are you…it’s just...you’re…" her eyes flash and I can tell she’s embarrassed that I’m pointing it out.

"I'm sorry," she blinks a bunch. “It’s sorta been a while?”

“That’s okay. That’s alright. We can take it slow.”

She nods and doesn’t speak.

“Is this okay? What do you want?"

"I want you." She's staring up at me and I see the want clear as day. “Not slow.”

The words go straight to my core."Then you have me."

Her hand trails down as I kiss her and it’s tentative as it reaches lower and lower. Warmth cascades down my body and I feel like I’m in a dream.

“You’re amazing YN,” I tell her. “You feel amazing.”

I tilt her head back for the taste of her, bite the skin of her shoulder. Her sounds alone drive me crazy. But I’m priming her, making sure she’d ready. When she buckles her hips into mine I tug at the elastic of her panties.

"Is this okay?"

She nods.

"Say it."

"Yes," she breathes. “God, you’re bossy. S’okay.”

I pull the dainty fabric off with a smile and throw them to the floor. She nods when I look at her, her eyes are hooded and dark . “Protection?"

"I have some." I lean over and dig through my nightstand. When I sit back she’s quiet but I’m focused with the task at hand so she catches my by surprise with her question.

“H-how many girls do you hook up with?"

I look up at her and she's watching me with those dark broody eyes. They're so wide and so deep and I’m drowning.

"Some."

"That's…not an answer."

"It is. You’re not getting posessive are you? We’re still haven’t finished getting to know each other.”

She flushes furiously.

"So a lot then," she continues.

I laugh. "Do you usually do this? Is this some sort of foreplay?"

"I-i just-I want to be sure you’re-“

“I’m clean.” I promise her when I realize why she’s asking. Idiot Harry. “Plus we’re using protection.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Okay. Good. Now come back here.”

She gasps when I sink into her and I can't help the curse that escapes.

She responds with her own impatient expletives. There’s a desperation in her voice that sets me off as her nails dig into me, like she wanted to lose herself here.

She’s present as we flow in my bed but I know when I’ve lost her, as her grip loosens and her eyelids flutter shut.

We collapse onto the bed, chests rising and falling as we finished one after the other. Her hair is splayed out on my pillow, her head resting on my arm and she looks angelic. I kiss her neck slowly, peppering kisses onto her shoulder, stroking her back. Slowly bringing her back. Gently.

"Harry,” she says my name. Breathes it. It makes my stomach drop. Something about her was stirring something within me and it was exhilarating but scary. I splay my hand on her abdomen and bend to kiss her, she’s more pliable than before, clearly spent.

"Stay here," I whisper. It’s the wrong thing to say but I don’t care about the party anymore. I just want to stay here and continue exploring this perfect woman here. Before she goes back to being the YN I knew from school. The one who I previously thought would never crawl into my bed willingly.

She blinks. "But the party-“

“Party’s fine without us for a bit.”

She smiles. "Okay. Fine."

I hold her against my chest and we stay like that. Neither of us speaking. Yet I can tell there's something on her mind. Has been most of the time we were together.

I almost ask if she wants to talk but remember she wasn’t my girlfriend, my anything. She was here to hook up not spill her feelings. I didn’t do feelings—I wasn’t anyone’s boyfriend for a reason.

Her fingers trace shapes into my chest and it feels nice. The softness is new so is the cuddling—if I stayed in bed like this with a girl it was usually to gear up for round two. But this is different, we’re simply just catching our breath and existing in this space together.

"I think I should go," she whispers, sitting up after a while.

"What?"

"Your party, won’t they notice you’re missing."

"And?”

“You should get back. Can I use your bathroom?"

"Yeah," I sit up, I didn’t think I could convince her to stay. “Through there."

She nods and walks away with a few of her items. When the door closes, I can hear her sniffling. I want to go in but it would feel like an invasion of her privacy and our boundaries. I lay back and wait.

When she comes out, her hair is brushed and her makeup is fixed. She looks like she did when she came into the party. Except she’s only got a bra on.

“You missed a spot.” I tease. She blushes, self-conscious and so different to before.

“I did,” she plays it off. “D’you see my top?”

I spot it on the floor beside me and pick it up. She waits for me to get to her and reaches for it but I hold it tight.

“Are you holding my sweater hostage now?” She asks.

“No,” I don’t know what comes over me but I scrunch it and hold it over her head. She blushes again as I pull it over which isn’t very hard with how wide the neckhole is. It drapes back down below her shoulders. I usually undressed girls, I think this was the first time I helped one get dressed.

“You’re sweeter than you look.” She says once her arms are through.

“This is just so I can undress you again,” I tease.

I kiss her sweet and slow and it takes her by surprise. She leans back a bit but then meets me again, melting into me.

“We should get you a drink.” I tell her. She needed to relax more. She was suddenly tense after what we did.

“Ok. Yeah. A drink sounds nice.”

And so I spent the rest of the night with her, and she stayed tucked beside me with a quiet strength and a whisper of a smile the whole time.

Now she’s wriggled through every fucking belief I had and got too deep into my head. I can’t stop thinking about her. About the last time we were together. About how different she was. How the girl I saw in school and the girl she was in the dark with me were like night and day.

I want her and I hate that I do.

“Where’d you go?” Zoe asks, her voice tugging me back into the moment. Her fingers brush against my arm as I zone out.

“Huh?”

“The garage isn’t that big,” she says, eyebrows raised, clearly confused by my distance.

I offer a quick grin, leaning in a little too close. “No, but you know what is?”

It’s enough to get her laughing, pulling me closer. It works—just like it always does. But even as her hands trail down my chest, I’m somewhere else.

Zoe pulls me back into the present, tugging me to the dining room packed with friends now that beer pong is over. She sits on my lap, head resting on my shoulder as one of my friends tells some story about a haunted house down the street and we’ve all drunk enough to listen aptly.

Even in the middle of this, I find my eyes drifting across the room. YN, back from her garage break. She’s talking to somebody, a friend. Her friend touches her shoulder, tucks her hair behind her ear. I remember doing that too.

My stomach sinks as I remember the way her hair felt in my hands, how I could pull it into a knot, bury my face in the warmth of her neck. Her scent was sharp and clean, like fresh laundry and something else—an addictive kind of feminine softness that I couldn’t put into words but got into my bones.

Her gaze shifts, and I catch her eyes. It’s like a punch to the chest. I can’t look away. Not now, not when I see the flicker of something in her expression—something that was there that last night together in the car.

I found out later her grandfather passed a few weeks before. He had been sick for a while and she’d practically been raised by her grandparents so she’d been so broken after it; I told myself I wasn’t going to get too involved, that it wasn’t my job to fix her, but of course I couldn’t help it. Not when her eyes grew teary and doe-like. That night I did things I swore I never would. I comforted her feelings and held her, I let my guard down.

But then I ran once I realized I was in too deep, once I felt her pulling away. I left her alone with her grief.

I feel self-loathing creeping in, sharp and insistent. What the hell am I doing? I can’t shake this feeling, this pull toward YN, it’s not supposed to be this way.

It’s her fault. I keep telling myself that, over and over, like a mantra. If she really wanted something with me, she wouldn’t have stopped replying to my texts the day after.

And when I was down there in the garage with her, it was just us. There was no one else. It was a test—she could’ve been honest. But she wasn’t. She chose to shut me out. So now I have to be cruel. I have to push aside all this stupid, complicated shit in my head and make sure she knows I’m not going to chase her down.

I shove the thoughts of YN aside, convincing myself it’s not a big deal and tighten my arm around Zoe. I tune back into the story being swapped,the groups laugh about all the pranks and fights the schools have gotten into.

They pull me in, accusing me of skipping out on the last prank.

I laugh. "Nah, mate, you should’ve seriously seen it! Last time I went down there, I almost got my ass kicked!"

"Don’t tell me you were actually scared Styles?" one of the guys pipes in.

"Scared? Nah. I call it being smart," I say, but the words come out louder, more exaggerated than I mean. I can feel YN’s eyes on me from across the room. I want her to see me having fun, see me living my life like I don’t give a shit. I want her to think this could have been her.

A small part of me knows I’m being shitty but the drunk part of me shuts it up.

I take another swig, making a point of not looking over at her, even though I can feel the weight of her gaze on the back of my neck. But my eyes betray me when she walks out of the room altogether.

-Your POV-

We make eyes from across the room. The look is so intense, it feels like he’s reaching across the space between us, pulling me in like gravity.

Why the fuck are you still looking at him, I think.

I turn back to my best friend, trying to focus on anything other than him.

“…you should spend as much time as you can with her before she moves,” she continues what she was saying. “Be mad later.”

"I’m trying to be mad later," I insist. “I’m trying to savor the time now, but…” I let out a frustrated sigh. "When I’m not there—like tonight, I’m thinking about how I’m not with her. And when I’m with her, I’m just mad and want to get away.”

“That’s so fucking complicated,” she says, staring at me like she can’t quite make sense of my mess either.

I want to explain, really I do, but it’s too much. And right now all I can hear is Harry’s laugh cutting through the noise of the room. It feels like nails on a chalkboard. But then, a beat later, I can’t stop myself from looking.

And there he is, tugging at some girl with that stupid cocky grin of his. Josie or Zoey or something, I don’t even know her name, pretty sure she was younger than us, but she was in poster club with me and even though we didn’t really talk she was cool. Part of me feels bad for her, wants to warn her.

But I wasn’t over it enough, I wasn’t that evolved as hard as I wished I was. And it didn’t matter, because it’s not about her. It’s about me. The way his hands are so familiar as they slip through her hair, and my stomach turns at the memory of how we did that once or twice.

I don’t even know what I want from him at this point.

“He’s such a dick,” my friend says, clearly reading me like a book. “He’s obviously doing that to make you jealous.”

“No, he’s not," I snap, but my voice cracks just slightly. "He doesn’t care. He’s just a player."

“Then why else would he be so damn obnoxious?” she presses, but I don’t have an answer.

At first I was hurt and confused when he straight up ghosted me when I tried to communicate with him after. Then it made me angry. And now seeing him with her—I knew who he was as a player, I didn’t expect anything different. But that night he was so different. And the callous way he’s being tonight makes my heart chip a little.

“He’s just like that,” I reply stiffly. “That’s Harry. I don’t know what I saw in that.”

She shrugs. “He was just some fun for you. You deserved to have some fun after everything at home—sorry.”

“It’s true,” I murmur, rubbing my thumb along the rim of my cup.

She didn’t have to apologize. I had been looking for a distraction, looking for something to take me away from the heaviness at home. Grandpa’s sickness. The waiting. The slow, aching loss of him. The aftermath.

“Anyway,” she continues, shaking her head at Harry’s antics across the room, “he’s usually loud, but not like this. He’s putting on a show. Dickhead. It’s his loss for ghosting you.”

I nod, but it feels hollow. Because, in a way, I ghosted him first. After that night, when he was too kind and I didn’t know how to handle it, I shut down. I avoided him the next day. But when I wanted to talk he avoided me right back. I thought he just wanted space but a few days later I see him flirting with her. He’d just ignored me and moved on.

“Guys like him end up fat or bald by the time they’re thirty,” she jokes, dragging me out of my head. “He’s just another dude—don’t waste any more time on him. Let’s go somewhere else.”

I let her pull me away, though it takes everything in me not to glance back. But as we pass, I feel his eyes on me. I know, because I feel the heat of them burning through my skin, even without turning around. I fight the urge to look. Fuck him, I think, holding my head high as we walk towards another part of the house.

-Harry’s POV-

...What the hell am I doing?

The thought has been a constant echo in my for the last week no matter how much I distract it or smother it with alcohol. I feel like I’m being haunted.

All week I see YN in the regular spots at school but it’s always a reminder of not only our time together and how different things felt with her, but also how she was going through a hard time. How I was being cruel.

Jeez is this what it was to be sensitive. I fucking hated it.

It’s after school and I’m late to leave, walking down a mostly empty hallway. And of course I catch a glimpse of her in the computer room. Probably working on yearbook or whatever other club she was in.

That’s part of why it was so surprising when she approached me that night. When she willingly became a notch in my bedpost. It only took a couple weeks to find out she had been looking for a distraction. Usually that was my forte.

I linger, my heart wanting me to go in but my head screaming at me to go. I finally choose head and start walking away. But my squeaking shoe catches her attention and she looks up.

We have an awkward stare off. She swallows and looks away.

“Do you need something?”

I don’t expect her to ask.

I walk forward and lean against the doorframe. She can pretend she’s over it all she wants, but her cheeks are pink.

"I was just helping coach with something. I saw you and…"

I don’t mean for it to come out. God why did she have to make me feel awkward. I was never awkward. I didn’t feel awkward.

“Are you doing your nerdy shit?” I try to switch gears, slip into cocky jock but she’s too real. She doesn’t let me.

“Seriously? Are you trying to make casual conversation with me again?”

“Why not?”

“Why not.” She scoffs.

“No seriously YN why the fuck not?” I demand. None of the other girls I hooked up with did this! Once we were over they either treated me like it never happened and continued being friendly, or they just moved on themselves to someone else. None of them looked at me the way she did. Bit at me like she.

You also didn’t want them like you did her.

“You’re really playing the stupid angle. Or maybe it’s not playing.” She mumbles the last part but I still catch it.

I move a few steps into the room.

She sighs. “I don’t want this cocky…jocky Harry okay?”

“Okay.” I put my hands up; I also couldn’t give her the Harry from that night if that’s what she wanted. But I let my defences down a little. “Why can’t I make conversation with you?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s an unanswered text in your phone from weeks ago? Asking to talk?”

I don’t respond. Of course there was.

She gets fed up when I don’t reply, “So if you want to talk then I’m okay to talk about that. Otherwise I’m not interested.”

“You want to talk about that?!” I go for the humiliating angle and hate myself for it. “We weren’t a couple you know that right? We were just sleeping together and then we weren’t. There’s no us to talk about.”

Her eyes are rimmed red when she looks at me, anger burning in her eyes. A part of me acknowledges the hurt.

“I. Know.” She says slowly. “I’m the one that approached you to hook up. I know we weren’t dating or something. But I dumped a bunch of baggage on you when I didn’t mean to. A-all I wanted to do was apologize like a decent person. But you’re obviously too much of a dick to understand that. You thought I was like, hung up over you and your new fling!?”

I’m dumbstruck. My pride is shot to space. She wanted to apologize? For opening up? I was a dick.

I can hear voices coming down the hall. I don’t want anyone to hear this, to tarnish my image with whatever softness was here. I push the door closed and walk to where she sits, perching on the chair next to her.

"What are you doing?" she snaps, glaring at me.

"You wanted to talk" I shoot back.

“Don’t insult me and act like you care what else I have to say Harry. I’m sure you can find some other girl around this late if you’re killing time or something.”

“I want to listen.”

“No you don’t. I got that hint pretty clearly when you ghosted me.”

"I was ghosted first," I retort, like a petulant child.

"I had a good reas—actually that wasn’t even ghosting I was just taking some space to-" her words are clipped. "I wanted to collect myself before I spoke to you. Make sure I was in the right headspace. You on the other hand had no reason to cut me off."

"Cut you off?” I challenge.

"What's your excuse?" she rolls her eyes.

"I wasn’t ghosting you I-it-it's just wasn’t that deep," I say, trying to sound casual. Way to go you stuttering idiot.

She stares at me, a million emotions flickering on her face. I can almost hear her say it that night was deep to me. Or maybe it’s my own voice saying it.

But then her face blanks, like she’s given up.

"Well, whatever. I'm sorry," she replies even though I expect her to continue arguing with me.

I stare; her hair was pulled away from her face today into a half bun thing and her lips are glossed. I know what they taste like and that thought makes my stomach dip and lose focus.

She must think I’m confused because she sighs, “for dumping my baggage on you and for making you uncomfortable? M’sorry for asking you to handle me with care when we were just hooking up. I don’t-“

“Stop.” I can’t handle it anymore. “That’s enough already.”

How was she still somehow decent. Why did she make me feel like I wanted to protect her, tuck her away and save her. It scared me. I never felt this way—girls were just fun.

"I'm not mad," I say, the words tumbling out of me. "I just didn't know how to respond, okay?"

"That's why people say things," she snaps, exasperated. "Discuss things so you can sort out what to say.”

“Look,” I snap. “You’re obviously the most…I don’t fucking know. I don’t normally do this. You’re the most serious or…mature person I’ve ever…hooked up with? Nobody…I don’t know what I’m doing ok? I’m out of my fucking depth here.”

“And I know.” She emphasizes. “That’s why I said I was sorry!”

“No! Not like that I’m not trying to make you feel bad-“

We quiet as a group of people walk past the door, in the silence I realize how loud we’d gotten. She must too.

She leans forward, her tone serious. "Do you actually want to talk about it?"

I swallow, trying to collect myself. Trying not to get lost in her eyes. Trying to ignore the tugging in my stomach, the desire to touch her.

“Obviously not. But I’m trying to not be a dick or whatever.”

"Can we start with the text first?" She crosses her arms.

"Ok," I sigh, dragging my hands down my face. "I'm sorry for ignoring you. It's just easier for me if I'm an asshole.”

It’s easier to apologize now that she has. Easier to want to be decent and not cruel. For a second I glimpse us reconciling, her allowing me to touch her with a tenderness I’ve never felt before.

So I backtrack. I couldn’t do this open honest shite. I had to wrap it up tell her I couldn’t do feelings. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t me around her.

“I didn’t mind that you wanted someone to talk to. Like it was a lot but…I don’t do that sort of thing. I’m used to hooking up and no messy feelings okay? And you didn’t text me back the next day so I moved on. But didn’t realize you wanted to apologize.”

“Okay…”

“No hard feelings seeing me with other people though—like, I’m chill if you wanted to hang out some time but-

“That’s alright.” Her jaw clenches, I get the sense that I’m saying all the wrong things. And yet I feel so desperate and clingy inside.

“Not that-I get why you were uhm…” I freeze. I’ve never had a reaction like this—I’m just frozen.

She studies me and I try not to squirm. I’m afraid of what the results of her study show her.

“Right.”

We sit in an awkward silence until I can find my voice. “It was a lot. And I wanted to ignore it.”

“Yeah. Yep. I got that. Thanks.”

She was done. I wrack my brain. She was just apologizing and now she’s trying to end the conversation.

“Is that it?” I ask when her eyes flick back to her screen, now a screensaver.

“I guess so.” She says. And I’m stumbling over my thoughts to think of something else to say. All this time she really was just mad that I didn’t reply? She just wanted to apologize and go back like nothing ever happened. All those biting words and hurtful glares weren’t because I was with another girl?

Was I imagining all that fucking chemistry?

“You got…it out of your system?”

“Yeah!?” She glances at me. “I’m fine. I know what I know—I’m just a girl and you’re just another dude right? I got to say what I wanted. Two ships passing in the night and all that.”

“Yeah. Oh yeah okay. Alright.”

I’m dumbstruck yet again as my feet move me away from her. Out of the classroom. I stand there for a few just thinking of this feeling. Of tables turned.

She didn’t actually like me like…more?

The questions carry me home. My sister takes one look at me and laughs.

“Girl problems?”

“No.” I bite.

“Really? Because this looks like girl problems. L-o-v-e problems.”

“Shut up.” I want her to stop poking at the soft place.

“Fine,” she shrugs.

“I’m fine.”

“Hmph,” she eyes me. “I can say it’s nice to see you getting a taste of your medicine Har. Girls aren’t just playthings.”

I ignore her and she heads to her room, calling out “Pass me her details later I’m gonna write her a thank you card.”

…a taste of your own medicine. Girl’s aren’t just playthings.

“Hey I don’t think-“ I try to argue but she’s already in her room, door closed.

I didn’t think girls were playthings. But the girls I hooked up with we just had fun. They knew it.

What if some of them walked away from it like you are now, a voice in my head whispers. I want to shut it up. Shut it out.

I grab my phone, hit up Zoe and when she says she’s busy I find someone else in my phone. I needed to get this feeling out of my system.

But still, when I crawl into bed at 2 in the morning after being out all night, I’m wide awake thinking about her so hard I swear I see her in the brushstrokes of my ceiling.

All along I had just been punishing myself; that was the only prize I had to show for all this.

It all comes crashing down on me. I feel like a part of me was hollowed out, thinking I was fine but it was coming from a coffin. Because everything my sister said, everything YN said—every single thing was all so true.

[queerholmcs]

longer quotes completed in full below:

a damsel in distress. in the end, are you really so obvious, because this was textbook—the promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption. then give him a puzzle and watch him dance...

heaven may be a fantasy for the credulous and the afraid, but i can give you a map reference for hell.

the roads we walk have demons beneath—and yours have been waiting for a very long time.

obviously we can't actually include everything here. what do you mean half of these are from tfp. you can tell they let the show become more blatantly unhinged as they went. i was watching the s1 episode commentaries this weekend and can you imagine a world where mycroft holmes was not portrayed by one of the writers. we would have lost out on so much. i might almost be able to be normal about this show seven years after the last episodes have aired. inconceivable.

[ermdotorg]

imagine if newt was taken instead of minho (movie-verse, tst ending). imagine. the insanity it would be...and the newtmas feels...and everything else...

i think thomas would've gone so batshit crazy, like john wick and his dog kind of crazy. minho would've also gone absolutely feral and they'd probably get those villain arcs they so deserved to have. I'd also like to think wicked would've cured newt some magical way right before the gang rolls in to save him and then everyone lives and everyone's so deeply content and YIPPIE!

[byler-twitter-escapee]

Jorge must have been so done with the gladers by the time they met back up with Brenda and Thomas in tst 💀 I can just imagine Minho being a little shit and asking him a bunch of irrelevant questions to piss him off

[ohwatson]

I would love to hear any thoughts you may have on Lestrade's wife and what happened to their marriage, should you feel so inclined?

i’ve thought about this specific piece of Lestrade Lore™ more than i care to admit, so i should feel so inclined, yes!

i definitely don’t think the lestrades’ marriage was short-lived, he gives the energy of someone who was married for at least a decade, maybe even 15-20 years.

i see a younger lestrade as being playful, flirtatious, probably a ladies man & definitely aware of it (have you seen young rupert graves? bffr.) but getting married sort of young. i imagine their relationship to kind of just have happened; they got to chatting and all the sudden were inseparable etc but never really saw a relationship coming until it kind of seemed like the obvious/right thing to do (in hindsight, lestrade probably recognizes that pursuing a relationship because it was expected & not because it was a good match in the long run wasn’t a great idea).

(also he looked so good in the episode jesus christ)

it was a healthy marriage in the beginning, lestrade is clearly devoted (he evidently went back to his wife after she cheated the first time, which speaks either of his loyalty or obliviousness, or something else). i think lestrade was content and was working his way up the NSY ranks during the early years of the marriage probably had the successful-career-as-a-detective-with-a-family-in-a-semi-detached-in-the-suburbs kind of vision for himself. however, he got the offer for a DI position & knew that the workload would increase and it could take a toll but the offer was too good to decline even if it meant he spent several extra hours at work in the evenings.

i imagine his wife got jealous or felt bored and insecure because of that, and i’m sure having sherlock ringing lestrade’s phone during dinner or at 2am demanding a case (& lestrade indulging him) didn’t help matters. so eventually she sought out someone else, thinking lestrade would be too busy to notice (she was right, but sherlock dredged that secret up quickly enough, & i do believe lestrade had suspicions but gave her the benefit of the doubt). she probably thought he cared more about his career than her, which wasn’t the case, but i do think lestrade probably took some of his marriage and personal life for granted and put it on pause for The Work (like sherlock in a way tbh).

obviously they separated at some point & i think it was probably lestrade who made the first move at trying to reconcile because he probably felt he was the reason for his wife’s infidelity. he truly thought they had been making progress until the infamous asib christmas (he cancelled the dorset holiday. the greek islands were nicer, anyways).

he looked a little sullen and tipsy at the wedding in tsot which i just chalked down to him having feelings about his divorce and also his friend’s gay situationship but evidently he’s not opposed to dating again as we see from tst & The One is out there for him somewhere live laugh love lestrade 🙂‍↕️

[shrinkthisviolet]

Happy TST, Lavi! For RUTTS, do you intend to write something for Morgan that took place between post-S1 and pre-S2? What sort of situation was she in aftet the singularity? How did she deal with it? Sending good vibes and good luck your way. 🍀🍀🍀 - ✨️ Enc (@enchanted-lightning-aes)

I do indeed plan to write at least one fic set during that time ("bridge fic(s)", in other words)! Mostly to bridge (hence the nickname) the gap about her decision to attend SCU, how she breaks that news to the Team (who helps her move in is also smth I will be showing 👀), how that transition goes, etc. I talk about it a little in the first and second fics of the s2 arc, but there's quite a bit that's left to the imagination that I hope to fill in. Particularly, as you said, how shaken up everyone is in the wake of the Singularity, and how they move forward from that.

Not too hard to guess where Morgan ends up, I'm sure 😂 Tina becomes her legal guardian! Now important note: I have no interest in going into the nitty gritty of the legal/court stuff, like that's just not my area, so I'm not gonna go into the logistics of how it happened and such. I don't imagine it's hard to put together anyway: Tina is Morgan's godmother and stipulated as her next legal guardian in Harrison and Tess's wills, and Eowells by the end of s1 is a known murderer (albeit as Harrison Wells) and dead as far as anyone else knows. Not to mention, Tina already has experience raising Morgan, albeit unofficially during the 6 years Eowells was most overtly neglecting her. The custody hearing probably isn’t overly complicated.

Now the growing pains and lingering tension between them is something that will be touched on in the bridge fic(s), but really, it's something the s2 arc as a whole will deal with (it's been touched on at the end of the posted fics, but there's more to come). So basically, the most you'll get about these two in the bridge fic(s) is showing them settling into a life together (officially, this time), and trying to figure out what that means when Morgan's been raised by Eowells for quite a few years...and how Morgan in particular has grown quite a bit since Tina last raised her (thus the "growing pains" thing). Which is quite a lot on its own, but like...know that it'll just be scratching the surface. Morgan & Tina are a slow-build subplot of the s2 arc, slowly but surely unearthing tension that they didn't even realize existed and chipping away at it until they resolve it. It's a tough process! These two love each other so, so much, but...the Eowells between them means that there are some parts of their relationship that led to unknown/buried tension. Love do be complicated sometimes, even when everything is doing their best.

There are also two important Morgan-specific secrets that, as of 1x15 in the s1 arc, Tina does not know. One of them, she'll find out during the s2 arc (in this fic specifically, tho I don't recommend reading that unless you want to read the whole s2 arc up to that point). The other one...she'll either find out during s1 or during the bridge fic(s). And in any case, in the bridge fic(s), it'll lend to the growing pains. After all...how do you raise a teenage superhero who's already been active in missions for a year by the time you get to raise her?

Mind you, Morgan's Thawne trauma will also be focused on the bridge fic(s), because like...duh. But that's gonna follow her for a while, like throughout the AU as a whole. She won't yet be going to therapy, since per the s2 arc she's still been resisting that, but at least by the end of s2, she will. Not anytime soon, but it is an eventual plan.

Apologies for the vagueness 😅 I don't wanna give everything away. But yes indeed, there will be bridge fic(s), and there will be an exploration of how things are going, and how they will go!

talk shop tuesday!

Taglist (send an ask or DM to be added or removed):

@arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @raith-way @vexic929 @ironverseocs

@thechaoticfanartist @tempests-of-hope @negative-speedforce @starstruckpurpledragon @angst-is-love-angst-is-life

@rose-of-oz

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi my bestie Johnlocker fic rec person!

A picture I saw earlier today reminded me of a fic I read not long after TST aired. It had Sherlock looking at John's wedding ring that he had picked up at the jeweller's as a favor to Mary, and he decided to try it on as a "what if/just to imagine" moment as if he was the one marrying John, and the ring gets stuck on his finger. It's like the day before the wedding, so he panics, and has everyone he can think of to try and help him with getting it off. Greg, Mycroft, Angelo, Mrs. Hudson, people in the homeless network, Molly...and nothing works. So he has to explain to John, and when John wants to know why he was trying it on in the first place, a love confession ensues, which in turn leads to a John confession of love as well. The story started out wistful and kind of sad, then was humorous with all the ring removal shenanigans, and ended up with a happy ever after love story ending.

I'd really really like to reread it if I could!

Thank you for all the wonderful work and help you do for our community ❤️

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, thanks for your kind words, they mean a lot!

As for the fic, this sounds SO familiar and it's killing me that I don't know which one it is... Is anyone able to pinpoint this fic for us?

[toby-du-coeur]

tst liveblog 7.2

fireworks! ehehehehe

ANGEL WITH A SHOTGUN

..also 😳😳😳

every ounce of anarchocommunist pacifism leaving my body when i see one (1) man in uniform / holding a weapon

look at frypan terrified and newts a bloody menace 😭😭😭

@persnickett this shot of newt is reminding me of things

hey guys what did i miss :)

minho + harriet = a force to be reckoned with

omg imagine the chaos that minho, harriet & brenda could wreak

*sticks tongue out sadly*

he has fully like, fangs goin on here

*tongue lick in return*

you can see his hand shaking 😭😭😭

awe

i swear it wasnt green before?

weird little noises that thing makes, plus the helicopter blades.. griever kinda soundscape going on

whEre's ThoMas where's my most special boy

*breath fogs menacingly*

he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter / and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he... well he did open his mouth 😅

'you haven't blown me yet' never forget

they rly did keep up the thominho banter

janson lookin so cool in the swirling dust

[hot-on-my-watch]

Final Script- BBC Sherlock S4-

The Lying Detective

For a bit of recap and a few things we might have missed I recommend this vid:

And onto the script!

As I suspected, there were FAR fewer differences between the script on the BBC website and the broadcast episode than with The Six Thatchers, which had many! I do think there may have been a later 'Amends' script for TST and the Beeb uploaded the wrong one, but hey, I'll never know.

Anyway, what follows are a few minor changes I did spot, interspersed with my favorite bits of stage direction.

Fake Faith's Hair

The 'Faith Smith' that comes to Baker Street is described as having both jet black hair and her roots grown out- it seems at some point they were considering Eurus appearing with her 'natural' hair colour here but looking as 'Faith' as if she's dyed it. I mean Eurus' looks completely too, but I've headcanoned about that elsewhere! So perhaps that was a discrepancy left from an earlier vision. That or someone had to fill in Steven Moffat on the workings of dye.

It's Mrs Hudson's Episode!

There are too many amazing lines of hers to quote here, but I also enjoy these notes.

"Sherlock Vision"

Mildly amusing.

Childhood Flashback

As with TST, they were intending to go further with this sooner. Notice also that Sherlock 'freaking out' has been condensed from two incidents to one.

Another interesting line here that I think got cut:

And...

I think my tiny attention span and poorly ME/CFS addled brain failed up pick up on the cut to the aquarium until now.

"We just carpet the wall.."

I enjoy the 'it'll be easy I promise!' vibes of the description of Sherlock blurring locations and dimensions on his return to the flat. Tumblr won't let me upload more images though.

"Once More..."

Something that surprised me about the script is that it has much of Sherlock's Henry V 'Once more unto the breach dear friends' speech delivered off-camera, showing Mrs Hudson nervously moving to investigate in the hallway and Wiggins dashing out, building for longer to the reveal of Sherlock reciting and gesticulating wildly with a gun.

One can only imagine that the decision was (correctly) made not to waste even a few seconds of Benedict Cumberbatch having the time of his theatre nerd life!

Missing Scene

We eventually get to the deleted part that sent me down my script-study rabbithole: John's failed attempt at drink driving. I too was horrified when I first read these lines, having always had the abject disgust at the very notion of drink-driving that many millenials do and that older generations often lack.

Not that I approve of John's extramarital text flirtation, of spectacularly dumping his best friend and violent attack of the same!

John really is out of control and as always, he appears somewhat normal next to Sherlock. John's quiet breakdown involves whiskey at home, chronic insomnia and just about managing to hide his hallucinations from his therapist; Sherlock's much louder one involves wild eyes, track marks, an elderly landlady in a sports car, a helicopter chase and an ambulance. But as always, while Sherlock is by far the most unpredictable and flamboyant, John is just as dangerous if not more so.

I feel that this scene was cut because it really wasn't needed, and it doesn't make massive sense for Sherlock to have been sneaking around successfully watching over John when he was meant to be "off his tits" anyway.

Smith's Mobile Phone

There's then a minor point in the script about Sherlock having deduced Smith's phone password/code and another reference to something being hidden "in plain sight". It seems that it was actually the "Serial number" on the back of the phone. I don't think we lose anything from this seeing as 'plain sight' comes up a lot and it's been long established that Sherlock can crack most passwords with ease.

Smith as a Mirror for John

I have seen Smith described as a John mirror before, particularly in the shot where they stand opposite each other across the slab. And while that shot IS compelling and lord knows their hair styles are the same, I did wonder if it was just a case of them both having the same stylist- Mary's do has the same kind of vibe about it after all. However, on this rewatch I finally got it: neither is the man with morals beyond reproach that he is often seen as, both carry darkness and at least one secret, and both have killed without remorse. The irony of Smith- clearly delighted- saying "no violence please" as John takes out all his fury on the frail, felled Sherlock is appropriately sickening.

The Stolen Scalpel

The script in the mortuary scene describes close ups on the tray of tools when Culverton Smith would've had a chance to swipe a scalpel, and him standing with his hands behind his back as if he has, giving the impression that Sherlock was reasonable to think he had done that- when in reality of course it was Sherlock who had grabbed it. In the episode Smith does stand right by the tools and technicaly could've pocketed one or something but shows his hands very demonstrably after that, making Sherlock's accusation seem to appear from nowhere. I'm not sure if this will have been cut down because of the blocking and camera stuff not quite having worked, but making Sherlock look even more unhinged doesn't hurt. If he can hallucinate Smith taking the scalpel, Smith laughing non-stop, then has he hallucinated Faith?

'The Scene'- Yes That One :-(

I was intrigued to see the stage directions for 'the scene' i.e. John's rather extreme violence against Sherlock, and indeed the script describes him as having completely lost control in a fury that's upsetting and disturbing to see.

Without any intention of trying to justify John's behaviour (though he clearly was Not Fucking Okay), I have mentally disputed the idea that John "put him in the hospital" before. Sadly I did once see a loved one take a beating at least as bad as that and the police barely even check them over, let alone have them taken to the hospital. But enough of my trauma...

In the script Nurse Cornish says that Sherlock will "probably need" the walking stick, and that has been cut from the final product- as have a lot of unimportant lines, to be fair. Though we can assume John, being a doctor, reasonably thought he might benefit from it, perhaps having cracked a rib or too.

It was only on my latest rewatch that I realised "Mary" isn't in this scene at all. And last time we saw her, she was asking if John still missed her- presumably now that's back out on a case with Sherlock. In fact since Sherlock arrived to get John, Mary's ghostly prescence has been less and less. Here in the mortuary, John's mind is completely occupied with the drama of it all, never projecting her.

I'm not sure what I think of this, especially because there can only be so many things shown at once, but back in The Empty Hearse it was Mary constantly trying to calm John and push him.to reunite with his old friend. Here hallucinated Mary encourages John to tell the truth to his therapist and sticks up for Sherlock at every turn. Is this the nadir of what John and Sherlock could become "without (her)", as Mary intimates in the "I miss you" video next episode? Sadly it seems so.

"Isn't That Right, Mary?"

On to a much more pleasant scene: drinking tea in Baker street. The script mentions here that it be blocked and shot as if John is talking to theoretical Mary instead of a hallucinated/visualised Mary that's actually there. Sherlock doesn't say "isn't that right Mary?" after "I'm Sherlock Holmes, I wear the damn hat." A nice addition I think. I'm not dure it would really have worked without John speaking to a specific Mary there and then without Sherlock deducing otherwise.

"Unless she calls."

Finally, in the following scene between Mycroft and Lady Smallwood, the gender of the PM has been changed. The script calls "him" an "idiot", where the finished episode merely implies that "she" is a nuisance of some kind. Another minor change is that Mycroft is more indecisive about taking Lady Smallwood's card-in the script he is seen nearly taking the card at least twice. Her seeming to be hitting on him threw me a little the first time as I read Mycroft as openly gay, but hey, that's just me. I hope they became besties at the very least!

If you made it this far, thankyou for tolerating my ramblings and proving to myself again that yes, the changes made from the shooting script were improvements. You're welcome Moftiss.

[the-fiction-witch]

Over Heated

Media TMR TST

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Sweet

Requested

Hi. Can I request an imagine where I faint from heat exhaustion in the Scorch?

I did my best to climb yet another tall sand dune hearing my heart beating, gasping and wheezing hard though the scarf. My whole body ached beyond anything I had ever known I couldn't imagine what it was like for the non runners among us, it's very clear to me I'm good at distance from the maze but not this climbing and sand dunes nonsense. You spend an hour and all your energy climbing to the top of a dune only to see you haven't got anywhere and you've got to make it all the way back down to go up the next one. All with this merciless heat beating down burning your skin, heating up the many layers we had to wear to protect from the vicious sandy winds. When we reached the top yet again it became clear all the effort and work of the last hour had gotten us maybe a few feet the sun beating down unhindered by a single cloud, my body pretty much just gave the fuck up.

My body hit the soft sand, hard and painful. But my mind just went utterly black boiling in the heat.

Slowly a voice bridged the darkness…

"Y/n! Y/n! Love please." It was newt that was obvious from his voice and the fact no one else calls me love the more I focused on his voice the more the darkness seemed to clear my body cooler, my breaths steadier "love please please…"

"newt?"

"Yes! Yes it's me. It's me. Your okay. Your fine. You just got a little overheated love" he reassured stroking my cheek sweetly "you okay?" He asks as I slowly opened my eyes seeing I was laid on the backseat of a half buried car long since abandoned and withered by the elements he stood by the removed door with a smile

"I think so" I nodded sitting up

"Whoa, whoa careful."

"Where's everyone else?"

"Making camp for tonight, your in no state to be going anywhere tonight"

"Sorry -"

"It's okay, you have nothing to be sorry for love. Honestly of it wasn't you I think it would have been me not long after" he says "i saw you fall so I got us all to stop, boys helped me carry you here"

"Thank you newt" I smiled giving his cheek a little kiss

"Ohh uhh your welcome. Get a little more rest we'll get moving in the morning" he reassured before going to help the others