#after she met me for the first time my flatmate's mum asked her if i was a dancer because i moved so gracefully

[lengthy-artery]

.

[chelseachilly]

king of my heart - pt 1

i’m perfectly fine, i live on my own  i made up my mind, i’m better off being alone

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: Of all the men in London, Ben Chilwell would’ve been extremely low on the list of who you would expect to meet at a random party your friend dragged you to. You know who he is, obviously - your younger brother is a massive Chelsea fan, as was your dad before he passed away unexpectedly a couple years ago - but you hardly run in the same circles as professional footballers. Until now. warnings: mentions of death of a parent, takes place in a fantasy world in which chelsea will plausibly beat arsenal this season word count: 2.5k

author’s note: hi! i’m very new to the tumblr football world but needed a distraction from chelsea’s current situation, so here we are! i’ve noticed there aren’t enough fics for ben and this is my first time writing for him, pls let me know what you think and feel free to hmu about all things chelsea :) title from king of my heart by taylor obv

*faceclaims for y/n and your best friend are camila morrone and suki waterhouse bc i am obsessed with daisy jones and the six lmao

Of all the men in London, Ben Chilwell would’ve been extremely low on the list of who you would expect to meet at a random party your friend dragged you to.

You know who he is, obviously - your younger brother is a massive Chelsea fan, as was your dad before he passed away unexpectedly a couple years ago - but you hardly run in the same circles as professional footballers.

Until now.

A few months ago, your flatmate and best friend Charlotte got an amazing new job in PR. Since then, she’s been invited to a million fancy events and met a lot of famous (and semi-famous) people. Just last week, she went to the opening of a new club and apparently met some incredible, funny, super attractive guy who invited her to a party at his house tonight.

Although you’ve been really trying to push yourself to go out more lately and enjoy being young in the city, your idea of a perfect Friday night is often just staying in and reading or watching Netflix, so you still take some convincing.

“Charlotte, do you even know anything about this Mason guy?” You ask as Charlotte begins to put her makeup on in the bathroom of your shared flat, a tiny but cute two-bed in North London. “Like, his last name, his job, anything?”

“Nope,” Charlotte shrugs. “But I know he’s fit, and probably posh because the address he gave me is in South Kensington.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were a gold digger now?”

“I’m not, but posh means open bar,” Charlotte grins. “Now hurry up and get ready.”

You reluctantly drag yourself up off the floor and go to your closet to put on your favourite little black dress - a safe bet for any party, regardless of how casual or fancy it might be.

After doing your hair and makeup and taking a couple shots to ease any social anxiety brewing in your stomach, Charlotte calls an Uber and you’re on your way. You quickly post a photo of the two of you before you leave.

yourusername

liked by charlottewright, yourmum, & 102 others

yourusername by the way, we’re going out tonight ✨

tagged: charlottewright

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charlottewright hell yeahhhh

yourmum Beautiful girls! xx

yourusername thanks mum x

When you reach the address this Mason guy gave Charlotte, there’s music blaring from the house. Several very expensive-looking sports cars are parked outside, and there are a few people sitting on the front steps, drinking and laughing.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Charlotte says as your car pulls up. She can obviously tell that you’re worried about socializing with all these strangers, especially ones way above your tax bracket. “We’ll get some drinks and have fun. Hey, maybe Mason has some cute friends he can introduce you to?”

You roll your eyes. Dating is far from a priority for you at the moment, having just begun the career in publishing that you’ve wanted since you were a little girl. Work is your focus, but you know Charlotte is right. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

Before you can even fully get out of the car, still straightening out your dress and making sure you have your phone and purse, you hear Charlotte yell “Mason!” and run over to the group of people on the steps.

As you follow her and finally get a good look at the guy Charlotte won’t shut up about, you nearly trip over your own feet.

You recognize him instantly - Mason Mount, Chelsea midfielder. You may not follow the club the way you used to before your dad died two years ago, but you remember watching Mount score a hat trick during one of the last games you went to.

Charlotte doesn’t follow football at all, so you figure she also has no idea that standing next to Mason are his England national teammates Declan Rice and Jude Bellingham.

You, however, can’t help but be a little starstruck. Football was a big part of your life growing up, and it’s a bit surreal to see all these athletic superstars right in front of you.

Thankfully, they’re all occupied with Charlotte and don’t seem to notice you until you regain your bearings and walk over to Charlotte’s side.

“Y/N, this is Mason and Declan,” Charlotte grins. “And what was your name again, sorry?”

“Jude,” Bellingham answers, smiling at you and shaking your hand. “What’s your name, love?”

“Y/N,” you answer, trying not to blush at the attention as Mason and Declan greet you.

“Well, come on in, ladies,” Mason smiles, gesturing to the front door. “Bar’s in the back, and there’s loads of food in the kitchen.”

As Mason leads the way into the house, which is just as massive and stunning as its exterior, you hang back a bit and grip Charlotte’s arm tightly.

“What is it?” Charlotte asks, furrowing her eyebrow.

“Charlotte, they’re not just posh, they’re footballers,” you explain, gesturing to the literal Champions League trophy casually sitting on a shelf. “Like, some of the best in the country.”

“Footballers?” Charlotte’s eyes widen for a moment. “Oh my god, so you know who they are?”

“Yeah, babes,” you chuckle. “Mason plays for Chelsea. I’ve watched him play for Chelsea.”

Charlotte’s face falls a bit, and she lowers her voice. “Oh, shit, do you want to leave? I know Chelsea was your thing with your dad-“

“No, no,” you wave her off with a small smile. “It’s alright, let’s have fun. He is super fit, and he probably finds it endearing that you clearly have no idea who he is.”

“Now that I think about it, he did mention having training in the morning last weekend. I think I asked what he was training for.” Charlotte laughs. “Shit, that’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Nah, he seems into you,” you comment, noting the way Mason’s eyes are glued to Charlotte as the two of you continue to speak privately. “Now go talk to him, I’m gonna go get a drink.”

Charlotte nods and returns to Mason’s side. God, it feels strange to see your best friend chatting up a guy you watched play in the World Cup on TV a few months ago.

You make your way to the back garden, weaving your way through lots of guys - some of whom you recognize as other footballers - and lots of very pretty girls. As promised, there is a full-service bar outside, and you order a vodka coke for yourself.

Thanking the bartender, you decide to stay out here for a few minutes. You’ll return to the party eventually, but you want to give Charlotte some alone time with Mason and despite your assurances that everything is fine, it’s a lot to digest being in the home of an actual Chelsea player.

Most of the partygoers are inside, with only a few people out back having a smoke or going to the bar. You find yourself a quiet spot in the back of the garden and sit on a patio chair, crossing your legs and leaning back as you enjoy your drink.

You pull out your phone and can’t resist pulling up and old photo of you and your dad at a Chelsea match when you were six years old, both of you smiling in blue. Although it’s difficult to look at, it makes you smile, too - you remember how Chelsea beat Liverpool 3-0 that day and how happy your dad was on the drive home. You’ll always treasure those memories.

“Hey, mind if I sit?”

A male voice prompts you to glance up from your phone. It really shouldn’t surprise you to see yet another familiar face at this point, but the man in front of you nearly takes your breath away.

You recognize him right away - the shiny dark hair, the piercing eyes - he’s unmistakable. He’s even more handsome in person than on TV, if that’s possible. Ben fucking Chilwell.

“Yeah, go for it,” you say, gesturing to the other chair and trying very hard not to stare at him too much.

Ben, who is holding a beer and wearing a hoodie and jeans with a pair of Air Force Ones, looks fascinatingly normal to you for someone who you know for a fact scored a Premier League goal just this afternoon - your sixteen year-old brother Max mentioned it when you spoke earlier, still as big of a Chelsea fan as your dad was. Luckily, losing your dad didn’t poison the game for him the way it did you.

“I’m Y/N,” you blurt out, feeling the need to explain yourself and your presence here for some reason. “I came with my flatmate Charlotte, she met Mason at some club last week.”

“I’m Ben,” he says with a small smile. “Mase and I…uh, work together.”

“Yeah, I know,” you chuckle. When he raises an eyebrow, you continue - there’s really no point in sitting here pretending you don’t know who he is. “My brother’s a massive Chelsea fan.”

“Ah,” Ben smiles, taking a swig of his beer. “Charlotte didn’t seem to have any idea who we were last weekend.” He seems to realize he may have come off a bit arrogant there, as he quickly shakes his head. “Not that she should. I was just-“

“All good,” you interject. “And for the record, I love her to death, but Charlotte thought Man City was a gay bar a couple weeks ago. She’s not much of a football fan.”

Ben laughs so hard he nearly spits out some of his beer, and you can’t help but laugh along with him - his smile is completely contagious. It also seems to be the first genuine one you’ve seen since he sat down.

“Fair enough,” he laughs, setting down his beer and turning his chair to face you properly. “So, Y/N, what brings you to this secluded corner of the garden? Not enjoying yourself?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Chilwell,” you smirk, taking a sip of your cocktail.

Frankly, you’re impressed with how cool you’re being given the situation. It’s not even the fact that he’s famous. Sure, you were starstruck at first, but now you just can’t stop looking at him. At those hands clutching the cold beer bottle, that fluffy hair that you’re dying to reach out and touch, those damn eyes…

“Well, I’m a bit knackered, to be honest,” he admits. “But I wanted to come out and celebrate the win. Honestly, I’m waiting til it’s late enough that I can leave without the lads calling me an old man at training on Monday.”

You laugh and nod sympathetically.

“I get what you mean. I kinda got dragged out tonight as well,” you say. “I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to a bunch of strangers after a long work day, but Charlotte wanted me here and she’s my best friend, so-“

“I’m happy to leave you alone if you’d prefer it,” Ben says quickly. “Well, not happy, but I can. If that’s what you want.”

You shake your head, maybe a bit too quickly.

“No, please,” you smile. “I was in budget meetings all day, but you scored a goal against Arsenal. I think that earns you a spot to sit.”

Ben raises an eyebrow and grins. “Sounds like you’re a fan as well, no?”

“I’m…not not a fan.” He looks confused, so you decide to elaborate a bit. “My dad was a massive supporter. We were season tickets holders at Stamford Bridge until he died a couple years ago. My brother, he’s sixteen, still follows the team, and he keeps me updated, but I haven’t really…well, it hasn’t been quite the same for me since then.”

Though you still miss your dad dearly, time has healed the pain enough for you to be able to talk about him like this. Although, you did have to stare at your shoes the whole time to get through it, and when you look up, Ben’s eyes are wide and full of concern.

You immediately worry that you just majorly overshared with this complete stranger.

“Sorry, you didn’t need to know all that,” you murmur, fiddling with the material of your dress. “I don’t even know you-“

“No, please don’t apologize,” Ben says in a much softer tone than he was using before. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you say with a sad smile. He holds your gaze, and you can’t help but feel comforted by his warm expression. Then, all of a sudden, a laugh escapes your lips, surprising Ben. “Sorry, I just…I was thinking about what my dad would say if he knew I was talking to the man he once described as ‘the best left-back in the country’ at a party.”

“Wow, that’s high praise,” Ben smiles. “Your dad sounds pretty great.”

“He was, but I love that your reason for thinking that is him praising you as a footballer,” you laugh softly. “To be fair, he was a big fan of Mount and Havertz as well.”

“Oh, well, never mind then,” Ben jokes, making you laugh even harder.

Probably harder than you’ve laughed in years.

The conversation continues as you each finish your drinks, and after Ben gets you a couple more rounds. You talk about everything - your job in publishing, his life growing up, both of your favourite films and music.

You don’t even realize how late it is until you see a much drunker Charlotte come outside with Mason keeping her upright. Despite her protests that she’s fine, you and Mason both agree you’d better get her home and to bed. After giving her some water, Mason calls an Uber for both of you, and in all the commotion, you barely get the chance to say goodbye to Ben.

It’s not until you get home and take care of Charlotte that you realize you didn’t even get his number. You could get Charlotte to ask Mason for it tomorrow, you suppose, but you don’t want to come across as desperate.

You aren’t even looking for a relationship. You just happened to meet a cute, funny, smart guy at a party who probably has girls lining up around the block just to sleep with him. It’s not like this is going to turn into anything.

Right?

-

You wake the next morning in Charlotte’s bed - you passed out next to her after making sure she had water and a bin next to her in case she got sick - to a loud buzzing sound.

“Too early,” Charlotte grumbles, feeling the beginnings of a bad hangover. “Turn it off.”

You reach over to the bedside table to silence your phone, but you quickly glance at the Instagram notification before you turn it off.

benchilwell

Hey, I found your insta through Charlotte’s, sorry if that’s stalkery lol

benchilwell

I had a lot of fun last night. Any chance you want to hang out again sometime?

“Oh my god,” you mumble groggily. “Ben Chilwell just slid into my DMs.”

Charlotte, still half-asleep, rubs her eyes and turns to face you. “Who the fuck is Ben Chilwell?”

next chapter 💙

[toomuchracket]

what do you think happens when flatmate!reader's parents visit the flat pre-condom story and see how close the two are (or flatmate!matty's parents, would love to know what denise thinks)

i'm so convinced that denise has always been of the "matthew she's PERFECT you should ask her out" opinion, like literally from the day she met you on set for the first time, and that continues after you've moved in together. i think matty tries to tone down the pda ever so slightly when she visits for the first time, because he doesn't want her to say anything and you to feel awkward (although denise loves you so she'd never do that), but he's incapable of resisting a little kiss to the top of your head as he passes you - denise notices the way you smile and blush when he does, and she's internally like "they're literally love's young dream my son is an idiot for not at least asking her on a date". she doesn't quite try and play cupid, but denise does make a point of asking if you're single or not, and when you say yes she looks at matty and raises her eyebrows as if "there you go" before she says "oh but i'm sure you won't be single for long, lovely girl that you are". and you laugh and say "thanks denise, i hope not. it'd be nice to have someone to take me out and spoil me" and she's like kicking matty under the table as she says "yes, it would be!" lmao. tim, on the other hand, assumes you're a couple as soon as he steps into the flat and looks at the two of you half-hugging as you greet him - literally turns to matty and says "why didn't you tell us you two were going out?" then turns to you and says "congratulations, pet, although you're far too good for him". and you giggle while matty facepalms like "first of all, we're not a couple. second of all, bit harsh dad", and tim looks between you and says "you're just friends?" and you nod, and he's like "hmm. if you say so. you're still too good for him, though, love, even just in friendship terms. sorry matthew, but it's true". and matty rolls his eyes but he's like "yeah, i know" a bit wistfully.

unlike denise, your mum has no idea about your feelings towards matty. she knows you're close, you always have been, and you again tone down the pda, but she's just so surprised by how attuned to each other you and matty are. like, you make her dinner, and matty's handing you stuff you need before you even ask for it; you finish your wine, he's refilling it immediately; he makes you a perfect cup of tea without asking you if you want one, because he just knows you do. and she's made no secret of the fact she likes matty a lot, despite his slightly erratic personality and total difference in career choice from you, so she's quite excited when she tells you "the two of you really seem like a proper couple. and matty obviously really likes you, he's so attentive and sweet! maybe you and him should go on a couple of dates and see what happens". and you're like "yeah obviously i think he's gorgeous and i trust him and all, but i just don't want to risk ruining the friendship by asking him to go out with me. what if i ruin the dynamic?", and your mum rolls her eyes and says "oh please, i've got married friends who have never been as domestically intimate as the two of you, you'd be fine" looooool

in summary, everyone thinks you guys are basically married anyway, and they think you're idiots for not just biting the bullet and taking the friendship to the next level and being the world's most gorgeous couple (although tim thinks matty's punching above his weight with you (he's right lol)) <3

[seaweedbrain404]

Wolfstar Au! : Parties and Morning Regrets

read it on ao3

pt2

Parties weren’t exactly Remus’ scene. It’s not that he hated the loud noise, smelly sweaty drunk people who constantly bumped into him or the inevitable hangover he would be most certainly having the next day. Except, he did hate all of those things, so why was he there?

The answer was simple: Lily Evans. Aka his best friend and flatmate. She had wanted to go, Remus couldn’t remember why. Maybe it was for a birthday? or a promotion? He couldn’t recall. Although that might’ve been the effects of the copious amounts of alcohol he had managed to consume in the past few hours. Remus wasn’t a light weight by any means so it really was copious amounts.

Drunk and a little annoyed because Lily had ditched him at some point and now he couldn’t find her, Remus made his way to the corner of the room where he could hopefully be left alone. He’d also have to keep an eye out for her, in case she needed help or in case she wanted to leave. He doubted any of those things, vaguely remembering that Lily wanted to go to the party to get laid. Which was fair.

Remus was propped up against the wall, drink in hand when it all went downhill. He only just began to entertaining the idea of either finding Lily and telling her he was going him or getting laid himself. He preferred the latter but didn’t have much of a say in it when someone came up next to him.

“Remus Lupin?”

Remus’ brain short circuited when he heard the voice. This was proof the universe hated him. As if the accident that happened shortly after he and Lily had moved to New York had been any indication of the universe having it out for him.

“What?” He managed to sound vaguely disinterested as his gaz met the other person’s.

Sirius Black looked the same as he did when they were 17. Same stupid leather jacket and everything. It made Remus want to groan because it was so stupid, he thought he’d left all of this back in England. Clearly he was about to be proven wrong.

Sirius shrunk back at the tone. He wasn’t used to Remus being so cold and bitter. Remus didn’t care though, Sirius had hurt him and he had some nerve coming up to him again.

“Just thought I’d say hi”

“Well, hi”

“Mmm...” Sirius paused for a moment, “how have you been?”

“Grand”

“Oh.... did you get into that school you wanted?” Sirius tried again and Remus almost felt bad for him.

If Remus wasn’t intoxicated, he would’ve told Sirius to go away. Instead he answered the question. “No, got my second choice though”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Remus didn’t want the pity Sirius was so clearly trying to offer. He had gotten over himself, it was years ago that he got rejected from his first school of choice and his second one was still really good. Then a thought occurred to him, “why are you in New York?”

“Oh!” Sirius seemed surprised by the question, Remus couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t been exactly pleasant up until this point. “Business opportunity for my dad’s firm, he wanted me to check it out and James already lived close enough to here”

Of course, still doing your family’s bidding when we both know you hate it, Remus had to stop himself from saying. Instead, he settled on a nod and took a sip of the drink in his hand.

“What about you?” He asked timidly.

Remus wasn’t used to Sirius being timid. Sirius had always been loud, demanding attention and boisterous. Maybe it was the party or maybe it was seeing Remus after so long that knocked the wind out of him just like it did to Remus. Hence why he was acting like a bit of a dick.

“Lily and I both wanted out”

That was all there was to it. Lily and Remus had been best friends and grew up together in a small town just off the coast of England. It horribly small minded and suffocating. It only got worse when Remus came out. Lily wanted to go to New York to get away from her sister and start a small bakery. For Remus, she was the ideal ticket out of there. He had been hesitant at first, up until he tried to speak to his father for more than ten minutes at a time. Then he was certain he had to leave. His mum wouldn’t have wanted him to stay if he was unhappy and if Lyall couldn’t get his shit together without him, well that wasn’t his problem anymore.

“I don’t blame you” came Sirius’ answer. “Compared to that shithole, New York is a breath of fresh air”

Remus chuckled at that, mood lightening. Was it the alcohol or was it him actually missing Sirius? He’d blame it on the alcohol.

“How is Lily?”

“She’s good, snogging some bloke right now I think” Remus shrugged.

“Good for her” Sirius nodded and Remus swore he could see the other glance down at his lips.

“What are you thinking about?” Remus knew he was asking a very dangerous question but his drunken mind pushed for it.

Clearly, Sirius was drunk enough to look at Remus and smile and as he said, “kissing you”

“Then do it”

Remus said this without thinking of the consequences. A very un-Remus thing to do.

Sirius obeyed though, stepping closer and closing the distance between them. Remus forgot what it was like to kiss Sirius. He could taste the alcohol, and the same cigarettes as when they were teenagers. The new taste was coffee, a welcome addition to what Remus already knew and remembered.

He suddenly wondered if anything else was the same. Throwing caution to the wind, Remus gently bit down on Sirius’ lip and in turn, Sirius parted his lips. This allowed Remus to slip his tongue in, his brain short circuiting again.

He pulled away breathless and Sirius grabbed his hand. “Let’s get out of here”

Remus let himself be dragged away from the corner and outside. He didn’t bother asking where until Sirius started hailing a cab. That’s when the alarms bells sounded.

“No! let’s- no not the cab... I’ll- I’ll get sick” This was of course a lie. Remus knew this and if Sirius remembered how good Remus’ drinking health was, then he knew it was a lie too. He didn’t say anything though. Maybe it was the panic in his fear-stricken eyes that made Sirius back down.

Remus felt stupid, not wanting to take the cab but it made perfect sense in his head. One late night coming home from work, he had taken a cab and got in a terrible accident. An accident that left violent scars all over his right side. An accident that made him quit his job and not want to get into a car ever again.

Despite all this, Sirius, bloody Sirius who was always so understanding even while drunk, squeezed Remus’ hand and started walking.

Remus decided he didn’t feel bad for not taking the cab. It wasn’t a long walk to where Sirius was currently staying. It was a nice, fancy and very expensive hotel. He instantly felt out of place.

Sirius didn’t seem to notice though. He also didn’t notice the receptionist giving him a funny look. A look which Remus knew too well and made him feel more than a little insecure. If it wasn’t for the alcohol coursing through his system, he would’ve gone home.

Fortunately, Remus didn’t get the chance to dwell of any of this simply because the second they were in the lift, Sirius was pressing him against the wall. All the kissing made Remus feel a bit dizzy. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been in relationships or had one night stands after Sirius. It was more the fact that it was Sirius.

Somehow (Remus can’t recall the details) they ended up in Sirius’ hotel room. Remus would later regret the events that took place that night for a while.

The next morning, Remus woke up naked and hungry. Not a great combination. He felt a hand draped over his waist, pulling him closer.

“Morning” Came Sirius’ sleepy voice.

Shit

Remus pushed Sirius away, establishing a small distance between them. He was about to go for his phone when it started ringing, this caused Sirius to groan and cover his ears.

Remus pick up, it was Lily. “Hi? what’s up?”

“Remus John Lupin”

“That’s my name?”

“Tonight was my turn”

Right. This meant that she didn’t have the keys to their apartment and that Remus did.

“Sorry”

“Just come home, quickly? You’ll never guess who i slept with last night”

“I’m intrigued”

“Then hurry up! I’m going to be catch pneumonia”

“Alright how does i’m-sorry-for-leaving-you-out-in-the-cold-coffee sound?”

“I suppose I could forgive you” Remus could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“Give me a few minutes, I’m on my way”

“Be safe, love you”

“Love you too”

When Remus hung up and looked over at Sirius, his brain short circuited for the third time since they’d met last night. Sirius Black was beautiful in the morning, he was breathtaking every time of day but he was especially beautiful in the mornings. With his shoulder length black hair, sharp cheekbones, pale skin and grey eyes, he always looked melancholy. Even when he was smiling. Remus supposed there was a sort of tragic look about Sirius that drew a lot of people in. It didn’t help that Remus’ favourite colour used to be grey.

“Who was it?” Sirius’ voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Lily. I should- I really have to go” When Remus said this, Sirius’ face fell.

“Can I drive you home?”

Remus climbed out of bed and stopped, he was in the middle of pulling his jeans back on. “No, it’s not too far, I’ll walk”

Sirius started getting out of bed too. “At least let me walk you then” He walked over to the suitcase and pulled out his own clothes, getting dressed as well.

“Fine but I have to stop for coffee” Remus replied, not being able to come up with a good enough excuse to ditch him. He finished buttoning up his shirt and pulled the sweater he wore last night over his head. It smelled like bad beer and cheap vodka. He was in desperate need of a shower the second he got home.

They walked in silence, from the room to the lift and outside in complete silence until Sirius spoke up again. “How are you?” he asked.

Remus looked at him, a frown quickly taking over his features. He remembered the sincere tone and genuine look in Sirius’ eyes from the time his mum passed away, sometime in fifth year. “You don’t get to ask that”

“Oh... I’m sorry”

“I know you are”

“You’re different” Sirius said, sounding a little uncertain.

“People are allowed to change Sirius” Remus’ tone was cold. He was in no mood for this, he just wanted to get the coffee and get home as quickly as possible.

Sirius soldiered on, as if Remus hadn’t said a thing. “You’re taller.... your hair is longer and curlier, you have plasters all over your fingers and scars, the scars are new”

Remus’ shoulders tensed at that. Who was Sirius to be saying all these things? And more importantly, why was he saying all this. It’s not like Remus didn’t know that he changed since they were 17. It had been years.

“Am I allowed to ask about the scars?”

“I got into an accident”

“How bad was it?”

“No, you’re not allowed to ask that”

“Right” It was clear Sirius was grasping at straws at this point, anything to keep the conversation going. “The plasters?”

“I work in a bakery”

“As if that explains it” Sirius huffed, a lot more Sirius-like than whatever he was like before. That was the Sirius he remembered. “What about me?

“What about you?”

“Have I changed?”

Remus thought for a moment. He wanted to say no, everything about Sirius was the same; he looked the same and his clothes were also the same. Another thing that didn’t change was him clearly being under his parents’ thumb. Yet, there was something about Sirius that was very un-Sirius and Remus couldn’t place what.

“No” He replied, ducking into a coffee shop to avoid the conversation from progressing further.

After buying three coffees, the two men were off again. They walked in silence for about five seconds before Sirius spoke up again.

“Why are you being like this?”

“I don’t know what you mean” Lie. Remus knew exactly what he meant but he refused to acknowledge it. Besides, the walk was starting to do a number on his hip and he had to slow down.

Sirius frowned at him. “Being all.....” he gestured vaguely with his hands, he had never been good with words, despite going to a private boarding school (he and Lily were scholarship students). Remus thought it was ironic, you’d think someone that rich would be at least a little more eloquent.

“You’re being distant”

“No offense but I’m not usually all cuddly and sweet with one night stands, I’m sorry”

Unfortunately it seemed that Sirius had taken offense to being called just a one night stand because he took a sip of his coffee and stuff a hand in his jacket.

“Asshole” Sirius mumbled.

“Sure, I’m the asshole”

Hurt flashed across Sirius’ face. “That’s not fair”

“I didnt say it was”

Sirius scowled even further and Remus just smiled. “I’m trying to be nice, I don’t get why you’re still being so mean”

Remus looked down, suddenly feeling really bad. “Sorry”

“Can we just talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about” Remus sighed. “You haven’t changed, your parents still dictate your life and by the looks of it, you’ve stopped rebelling”

Now it’s Sirius’ turn to look down. Remus had his a sore spot, that much was clear.

Neither said anything for the rest of the walk, until Remus started limping enough for Sirius to notice.

“Are you okay?” Concern filled his pretty grey eyes.

“I told you- the accident... it’s not too far now, I’ll be okay”

Sirius looked unconvinced but didn’t say anything else. He was probably too scared that Remus would snap at him again.

The silence resumed til they saw Lily, who ran up and pulled Remus into a death grip hug when she saw him, causing him to nearly drop the two coffees he was holding.

“What took so long?” She let go of him, studying his face, “don’t tell me you walked all the way here, you dolt”

“That would be lying though” Remus quipped with a smile.

Lily shook her head. “Idiot” she muttered, taking the coffee cups from Remus as he fished out the keys to let them inside.

Lily’s gaze travelled between Sirius and Remus, silently giving Remus the ‘oh god you slept with him didn’t you’ look. “I’ll go on ahead”

Once Lily disappeared upstairs, Sirius opened his mouth to say something but Remus stopped him with a hand in the air.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” He asked, not sure if he was going to regret this later or not.

Sirius nodded, “Yeah, yeah... if that’s okay with you”

Remus held the door open. He could give this a chance, maybe it wouldn’t end as bad as it did when they were 17. He had changed and maybe, somewhere deeper so had Sirius. For once, Remus let himself hope.

“You wanna know why I stopped rebelling?”

Remus hummed in response.

“I didn’t have anything left to fight for, now I might” with small smile he ducked into the apartment building.

Remus followed in after a moment. Thinking about how this could be finally something good. Maybe the universe doesn’t hate him as much as he thought it did. Maybe the universe was trying to shove him in the right direction again.

[heyyyharry]

Daddy, I see a ghost

…in which Harry is sex-starved because their daughter keeps asking to sleep in their bed. (from the Flatmate Series)

Warning: SMUT (they fuck in his office)

More on my Patreon

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“Fucking finally!”

Harry had never bounced on to the bed so fast. He crawled to his wife, yanked the book out of her hand and pressed his mouth against hers before she could protest. Instead of shoving him off, she burst into giggles as his kisses trailed down her throat and he shoved his hands under her shirt, his cold palms roaming across her heated skin. She pressed her palms against his back, her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer until he was practically on top of her. His mouth found hers again, needy and messy.

“Miss you,” he murmured against her lips.

She combed her fingers through his messy hair, relishing his rough yet intoxicating touch. “We’ve lived together for ten years, baby. How do you still miss me?”

He shook his head. “You know what I mean.” Then he pushed her– well, his shirt up, catching his breath at the sight of her perky breasts as if he was seeing them for the first time. He leaned in and took a nipple into his mouth.

Ever since they’d had Ria, they hadn’t had as much sex as they used to when it’d been just the two of them. It’d been torturing recently because their baby daughter kept asking to sleep in their bed. Three days ago, Ria’s friends’ brother had told the girls a ghost story and since then Ria had been afraid of sleeping alone. Tonight, Harry had stayed with her until she’d fallen asleep so he could have some time alone with Y/N afterwards.

“I miss fucking you everywhere in this flat,” he groaned as she pulled his shirt over her head, leaving her wearing only her soaked panties. They were kissing again as she tugged down his boxers, eager to get her hands on him.

“I miss that, too,” she panted, stroking him slowly as she sucked his bottom lip and slipped her tongue into his mouth. “Do whatever you want to me. Whatever you want.”

Her words drew a rumble from his throat as he slipped his hand between them to rub her clit. He was going nuts and he thought he could actually smell her. His balls felt so heavy he was afraid he would cum embarrassingly too fast. He had to make this worthwhile.

He held her thighs apart, breaking the kiss to slide down and leaving pecks on the stretch marks on her stomach, making his way down to her cunt. He loved everything about her body. He wanted her always. Every single part of her.

Her hips jolted when his lips met her clit over the fabric, and his ego grew, missing how responsive she was. He’d missed making her feel like she’d lost control of her own body, like he knew it better than she did, and sometimes it was true. He knew she couldn’t make herself cum the way he could because she’d also got him in the palm of her hand.

“You smell so good.” He hummed, glancing up to find her watching him with half-opened eyes, her lips parted as she breathed harshly. He pushed her panties aside and licked her once, causing her hips to buck against his mouth but he drew back and held down her hips. “So eager for me,” he teased. “Can’t wait to put my cock–”

A knock on the door caused them both to freeze.

“Daddy! Mummy!”

“Shit!” Harry plunged out of bed and immediately tugged his boxers back on as Y/N grabbed his shirt, put it on, and rushed to the closet to get her bottom.

“Daddy! Mummy! Please let me in!”

“I’m coming, baby!” Harry bolted to the door, swung it open and locked Ria in his arms just in time tears started to spill from her eyes. She wrapped her tiny arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. Sighing, he picked her up and carried her to the bed where Y/N (now fully dressed) was still blushing and panting as she forced a small smile at their daughter.

“Hey, love, Daddy got you,” he whispered and lay their little girl down between him and his wife. “Mummy is also here. You’re safe.”

“You left me…”

Harry felt a jab in his stomach and exchanged guilty looks with Y/N. “I’m sorry, baby,” he told Ria. “I was with you but then...I heard Mummy call for me and had to go check on her.” He hated lying to his little girl but he couldn’t tell her the truth.

Ria turned to look at Y/N, her glossy green eyes widened with concern. “The ghost hurt Mummy?”

“No.” Y/N shook her head as she smiled. “I also missed Daddy.”

Ria pouted and looked back at Harry, whose head was propped on his hand as he considered her taut face. “I think the ghost is scared of Daddy,” she said.

“There’s no ghost in our house, baby,” Harry said, brushing a lock of hair off her forehead. “But if there was, Daddy would chase the ghost away. Nothing is allowed to scare my ladies.”

“Are you...” Ria ventured. “Are you a ghost hunter?”

“That’s right. Ghosts see me and they run away.”

Assured by that answer, Ria relaxed as she snuggled closer to Harry. It didn’t take too long for her to drift off.

Harry gave Y/N a regretful look, which she returned with pursed lips and a shrug.

“Goodnight, Daddy,” she sing-songed and kissed him once on the mouth. From that grin on her face, she knew he’d called him that for a purpose. He rolled his eyes in frustration and flopped back on to his pillow, an arm wrapped around his daughter and his wife. He watched them until sleep folded over him.

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The next day, Harry got stuck at the office after almost everyone had left. It was actually a choice since he was the boss and no one but himself could make him stay overtime.

His mum and sister would always reprimand him. Y/N, however, never complained. They were as crazy about their jobs as they were about each other, so somehow they still managed to be good parents, maintain a happy marriage and run their own companies.

Whenever one of them had to work overtime at the office, the other would go home early to be with Ria, and when the busy one got home, their daughter would be asleep and they would spend the rest of the night together. But Harry knew when he got home tonight, he would either sleep alone while Y/N slept in Ria’s room, or he would find both of them in his and Y/N’s bed. He loved his daughter, but not being able to have alone time with his wife was killing him.

“You’re a good dad. You’re a good dad. You’re a good dad,” he would tell his reflection every morning in the past week after a cold shower. Thank God, he could still rely on his hands to get himself off and release some tension, but it didn’t feel the same without Y/N. Being sex-starved had somehow aged him in reverse. He probably masturbated more than he’d ever done since he’d discovered the art of masturbation.

While drafting an email, he heard his assistant’s voice saying goodbye to someone before she left.

That was weird. He’d just dismissed her because she’d been the only one here beside him. Who had she said goodbye to?

There were three knocks on the door.

“Come in,” he said.

The door creaked open. He leaned back into his swivel chair, feeling his smile reaching his eyes.

“Can I get you anything, Boss?” Y/N asked, one hand on the handle, the other on her hip. She was wearing a black trench coat and high heels, her hair in a bun. He bit his pen and beckoned to her. When she stepped in, shut the door and locked it with a click, his heart leapt in anticipation.

He pushed his chair back to make room for her between his legs and the desk. She sat on the edge of it, spreading her legs and revealing her thigh-high stockings with garters to hold them up. He wet his lips as she flicked a finger, motioning him to come closer. Without hesitation, he wheeled his chair forward, gripping her thighs and leaning down to kiss each one. Her chest was at his eye level, rising and falling with each shaky breath.

“Where’s my other baby girl?” he asked, his arms resting on either side of her as he nuzzled the exposed skin of her chest. She leaned back to give him more access to her throat.

“She's at home,” she murmured. “Maisie is watching her.”

He nodded once. His breath caught as he unbuttoned her coat and pushed it off her shoulders. She now sat on his desk in satiny black lingerie which included the bustier that emphasized her cleavage. Her arms were wrapped around his neck as she tugged him closer. He cupped her bum with both hands and pressed a kiss to one of her nipples over the bra. She shivered, her fingertips digging into his back.

He brought up one hand to fondle her other breast, glancing up to meet her lazy eyes. “I cannot believe,” he sighed, “that you left our daughter with your sister so you could come to my office and distract me from work.”

She tilted her head to the side, blinking innocently at him.

The Y/N at the beginning of their relationship would be speechless when he talked like that, but the Y/N who was his wife wouldn’t let him have the upper hand.

“I’m sorry. I can leave,” she pouted as she cupped his face. “I would never want to come between my husband and his work.”

He gave a smirk and kissed her thumb as she brushed it across his lips. He circled his arms around her waist and dragged her in, her core against his chest. “Liar. You’re not sorry.”

She ignored his remark and turned to his laptop sitting right beside her. “Why don’t you finish your email?” she said, grinning at him. “I can wait.”

He opened his mouth to object, but he was curious to know what she was up to. She nodded her head toward the laptop, telling him to go ahead. With an eyebrow arched, he reached for the keyboard at the same time she unclasped her bra. He sat frozen in his seat as she shrugged it off, and tossed it somewhere on the floor.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” she said and released her hair, letting the curls bounce down to her shoulders and bare breasts. “It’s just hot in here. You should fix the air-co–”

He shut his laptop before she could finish and suddenly stood up and pushed his lips to hers. He cupped her face with both hands to deepen the kiss while she was already working on his belt. He groaned into her neck before kissing his way down to her chest, sucking her nipple hungrily as she unbuttoned his shirt to feel his skin on hers.

“Someone might walk in,” he hissed, drawing a nervous laugh from his wife as she pushed him back to kiss and lick the swallows tattooed on his pecs.

“We should stop,” she taunted, grinding her hips. “Or do you want us to get caught? You want people to see how you fuck me, don’t you? Show them what a good husband you are. How good you fuck your wife.”

He cut her off with another sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding against hers. “Fuck, I fucking love it when you talk dirty to me.”

She nearly fell forward when he suddenly broke the kiss. His eyes didn’t leave hers, not even when he sat back in his chair and spread her legs apart. He took no time to get rid of her garters and stockings, and once she sat completely naked on his desk, he caught a glimpse of shyness rising above her confidence.

He cracked a smirk. Her stomach clenched when she gasped and flinched. Fuck, she was so responsive. He managed to compose himself as his gaze fastened on her glistening pussy.

“Stop.” He froze at the command and gaped at her. “I mean...stop s-staring at it.” She stifled a laugh, blushing with her whole body.

Something never changed.

Giving a nod, he removed his eyes from her core, but then slipped his hand between them and touched her there instead. She jolted, letting out a startled gasp. Without breaking eye contact, he dipped his fingers, now coated with her juices, into his mouth and sucked them clean.

A blush crept up to her face as she giggled, covering her eyes. He pulled her hand off and kissed it. “Are you shy, Y/N?” He acted surprised, and from the way her face scrunched, he guessed she half-wanted to slap him, half-wanted to kiss him. “Where’d your arrogance go?”

“Shut up.”

“Maybe we should stop,” he told her what she’d previously told him. However, right before he got a chance to relish his revenge, she stuck her hand between them and started rubbing herself. His mouth fell open, mirroring her expression.

She was panting and moaning as her fingers moved faster on her clit. She was so wet the sound made him go frenzy. He decided to not stop her. He let her have her fun but didn’t intend to just sit back and watch. He leaned in and kissed her neck to encourage his wife.

“That’s right, baby. Fuck yourself on my desk,” he whispered in her ear before sinking back into his chair. He pulled out his hard cock and started stroking it. Her eyes went wide. She moaned, taking in the sight of him pleasuring himself while watching her getting herself off. Her free hand was gripping her thigh because he wasn’t touching her anymore.

“Don’t–” she blurted, her eyelids fluttering. “I need...Please…”

She didn’t have to finish the sentence because he knew what she was begging for. She didn’t want him to cum first. She wanted him to finish inside her. After a whole week of fucking his own hands, he was confident that he wasn’t going to cum so easily by just masturbating, but if she wanted to play this game, he could pretend to play along.

He let out a gasp and moved his hand faster, fucking into it. He guessed he’d underestimate her effect on him, because as soon as he saw how wet her fingers were, an electric current swept right through him and he almost shot his load right there.

He could see the relief on her face when he slowed down and eventually let go of his cock. He was leaking so much precum that his dick was wet enough for him to just slide right into her.

“Get your hand off,” he demanded and she painfully withdrew her hand from her reddened pussy. He wasted no time to throw her legs over his shoulders and fasten his mouth on her clit. He ate her pussy like it was his last meal on death row, hands under her thighs holding her in place so she wouldn’t move too much when she got sensitive.

It didn’t take him too much effort to get her off because she was already on the edge when he started lapping at her cunt. As soon as he slipped two fingers into her and started fucking her, she started shaking and pulling the hair at the back of his head, her hips bucking against his face but he didn’t stop until she finished.

She was still shaking when he rose from his chair. Despite her euphoric daze, her first instinct was to reach for his open shirt and pull him in, pushing their mouth together again so she could taste herself on his tongue. They kissed clumsily as he stroked his cock a few times and positioned it at her entrance.

“Do you need a break?” he breathed against her lips. She shook her head, unable to get a single word out. He smirked and kissed her cheek. “Guide me in.”

She nodded fast, reaching between them. When her fingers closed around his erection, he groaned so embarrassingly loud that made her burst into soft giggles. She rubbed the head of his cock against her clit before pushing it into her cunt. She was so tight it felt as if she was sucking him in. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as they exchanged open-mouthed kisses. One of his hands was gripping her bum, the other on her breast, teasing her nipple as he pushed slowly until he was all the way in. They gasped at the same time.

“How are you still so tight?”

The way she blushed at his remark made his heart go boom. He couldn’t believe after all those years they’d been together he was still getting butterflies. They stayed still for a moment. He kept kissing her neck, and she got impatient and started moving her hips, causing him to groan.

“Give me a second. You’re squeezing me…” He laughed lowly and started with steady thrusts. She moaned his name and nibbled his ear. “Shit,” he hissed, nosing at her throat. “If I cum right now, will you go home and file a divorce?”

“Probably,” she giggled, bracing her hands on his shoulders as they moved together.

He bit his lip, his fingers digging into her bum as he thrust faster. “I’ll try to save our marriage then.”

“I love you,” she smiled.

“I love you, too,” he returned, his voice strained.

With another kiss, he held her hips and pulled out. She was so tight her body fought to keep him in. They both gasped when his cock sprung free from her core. She blinked at him, confused as he stepped back.

“Get off the desk,” he ordered.

She was so aroused she didn’t even question. He watched her slide off the desk, her legs wobbly as he grabbed her hips and spun her around. She braced her hands on the table, arching her bum toward him. He spanked her before positioning his cock at her hot entrance again. Without warning, he slipped back in and started fucking her again. She sobbed, reaching for his hand on her hip and bringing it to her breast. He squeezed it, pushing her body up until her back was flat against his chest. He could get deeper in this position but at least he didn’t see her face. He would always cum faster if he could see her face while they fucked.

They were a moaning mess now. Anyone could hear them as soon as they stepped out of the lift, and at this point, Harry didn’t give a fuck. He’d been so frustrated that if she’d asked him to fuck her in the lobby, he would probably have done it, too.

“Harry…”

“Mmm,” he hummed in her ear. She didn’t tell him what it was that she wanted. Instead, she took his hand from her chest and brought it to her neck. He could just cum right then. He squeezed his fingers slightly and felt a cry grumble in her throat. She let him fuck her with his hand around her neck until her arms gave in and she collapsed on her chest, holding the edge of the table to keep herself from slipping off.

He held the back of her neck to keep her down, his hips slapping against her bum. He moved his hands down her spine and gave her butt cheek another smack which made her pussy clench around his cock. He gathered her hair into his fist and fucked her so hard the content on his desk rattled. His pencil holder tipped over and hit the floor, sending his pencils flying and rolling across the room.

“T-That could’ve b-been your laptop,” she managed to speak and he couldn’t help but let out a laugh. From the way she was squeezing him, he knew she was close.

She slipped her hand down under, but he swatted it away and started stroking her clit as he bent forward to whisper in her ear, “Only I get to make you come. Do you understand?”

“Yes, s-sir.”

With that, her walls closed around him. He clasped her shoulder and tugged her upright. She’d started rubbing her nipples, back arched, mouth open and panting.  Bloody hell, she was so beautiful. He thrust up into her, matching her rhythm, and his fingers rubbed frantically over her clit, desperately coaxing her towards orgasm.

“Oh, oh God! Harry!” she cried out his name as she came, hips jerking, driving herself down on his cock. He grabbed her chin, tilted her head back and brushed his lips against hers. His breath caught at her slick on his fingers and how wet and tight she was when she came. The room smelled thick, like sex and sweat, and them. He couldn’t hold it any longer. His hands went tight on her hips as he held her still and thrust up and into her, hard and fast.

“Come in me. I need it,” she whimpered into his ear. He couldn’t breathe, grunting unintelligible words as he chased that feeling. With one last hard thrust, he came, pulsing into her with a groan that started as an attempt at her name. She sobbed, arching her neck to meet his lips and kissing him deeply. His hands were shaking as he held the edge of the desk, catching his breath. The thunder of his heartbeat was all he could hear. Her head fell back on his shoulder, her eyes were shut. Harry felt a bit smug at how dazed she seemed.

He stayed inside her for a few moments of silence, just softy kissing her lips until she broke the silence with a satisfied laugh, her breath hot against his face. “Should we thank the ghost?”

He rolled his eyes, laughing breathlessly. “Fuck the ghost.”

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“Thank God, you’re home!” Maisie said as soon as Harry and Y/N entered the flat, holding hands. His shirt was untucked and her hair was probably a mess because he’d pushed her against the wall of the lift and kissed her wild. If Maisie noticed, she didn’t point it out.

“What’s wrong, Mai? Where’s Ria?” Y/N asked.

Her sister was just about to speak when a little figure dashed out of the kitchen and flew straight toward them. Ria, who was wearing a cooking pot on top of her head and holding her toy gun, crashed into Y/N and wrapped both arms around her legs.

Maisie let out a sigh, “She’s been hiding in the kitchen with her ‘weapon’. She said the ghost is only afraid of Harry.”

“Daddy is a ghost hunter, aunt Maisie!” Ria said.

Y/N took the pot off her daughter’s head and got down on her knees in front of the little girl, giving her a reassuring smile. She knew there was no point trying to convince Ria that there was no ghost, so she said, “The ghost cannot hurt you, baby.”

“Why not? I’m so little!”

“Yes, you are, but–” Harry also got down on his knees and pinched her cheek “–you’re my daughter, aren’t you? The ghost cannot hurt you knowing I would destroy it if it tried.”

Ria pursed her lips as she considered him for a moment. “Did Mummy help you hunt the ghost? Is that why you came home late and your hair and clothes are messy?”

Harry and Y/N exchanged bashful looks. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see her sister trying not to laugh. Her face heated even though she tried to remain composed. Harry was much better at concealing his embarrassment. In fact, he looked almost indifferent when he told Ria, “That’s right. We told the ghost to never come back here again. The ghost was so scared and had to apologize for scaring my little girl.”

“No wonder Mummy dresses like a spy!” Ria said, indicating Y/N’s trench coat. This time, Maisie let out a snort and Y/N shot her a warning glare.

Harry laughed and tousled Ria’s hair. “Do you still want to sleep with Daddy and Mummy tonight?”

Ria thought for a moment before shaking her head, schooling her face with a determined look. “No. I should practice sleeping by myself,” she said. “I want to be a ghost hunter, too.”

“You will, baby, you will.” Y/N kissed her daughter’s cheek and thanked Maisie for babysitting Ria.

“I’ll tuck her in. You should take a shower and get some rest,” Maisie said. “Come on, Ria. Kiss your parents good night.”

“Good night, Mummy. Good night, Daddy. I love you!” Ria kissed both of them and whispered in Harry’s ear, loud enough for Y/N to hear. “I won’t tell anyone you’re a ghost hunter.”

And then she ran for the stairs, holding her toy gun by her side. Maisie laughed and followed Ria.

Once they were gone, Harry wrapped his arms around Y/N’s waist from behind, his mouth at her ear. “Second round in the shower?”

She spun around and put her arms around his neck. “How can I say no to our fearless ghost hunter?”

[dotsexwife]

RoseHaven 3x07 Starters

What are you doing here?

Why are you wearing glasses?

I did notify you about this in writing.

Yeah, I thought it was a joke.

Can't have you inspecting yourself, now, can we?

Was it always like this?

Look, I know you're loving this, but could you get on with it so we can get to work?

I'm not allowed to sit on the couch?

Are you actually thinking of moving out?

You could move in here.

We have a spare room.

I'm getting my own place soon.

Are you sure you wouldn't mind?

Yeah, but when the reality hits her that I'm going?

Well, I'm her family, and she loved when I moved out.

Person who lives with her friend's mum like a weirdo.

I know you're gonna miss me!

Are you sure it's not gonna be weird, me moving in with you and your girlfriend?

Actually, _____ , can I just have a quick chat with you, please?

Seeing as you barged into my office, can I have an opinion?

My car?

So, you don't have to look after them by yourself, do you?

Anyway, my point is, I'm not gonna judge anyone.

Haven't you seen them on the internet?

Can you get the keys out of my pocket?

Is that a snotty tissue?!

I'm sorry, I forgot that was in there. 

I'm gonna burn my hand off!

She might be disappointed.

You don't have to walk around like you're gonna get told off.

It's my first relationship, first time living together.

I don't really know what I'm doing.

I feel like I have to be on guard the whole time.

This conversation's too serious for me to have with the back of your head.

I have these doubts that it's... not right or something. Or that it could be more right, or that... I'm making it not right. 

I just... I'm overthinking it.

I wish I'd had more experience dating before we met, just so I'd know what was normal.

Maybe you should be high-fiving yourself that you got such a great relationship on your first try.

Who wants a cup of tea?

You didn't notice a vibe at all over dinner, did you?

Everything seemed normal?

I mean, we ate broccoli even though none of our parents are here.

Sometimes it feels like we've run out of things to talk about.

Well, you spend a lot of time together.

We've just been together so long, it feels like... 

I don't know how it's supposed to feel at this point. 

I mean, everyone's different. 

Don't get me wrong. I'm not unhappy.

OK, I'm just gonna say this out loud and I want you to answer as honestly as possible.

Did you ask me to move in so I could see if your relationship is normal?

You needed a place to stay, we had a spare room.

I mean, I didn't plan it, but now that you're there, I value your opinion...

You're overthinking it.

Whenever I'm alone with either of you, I feel like I'm getting quizzed about your relationship.

Did ____ say something?

See this is what I mean.

If you need to talk to her, you talk to her. 

I don't want to be in the middle. 

We've just been alone together for a while and it's nice having someone else in the house who... might notice things I might not. 

I know I'm great company, but you know most couples get a dog or a kid at this point? Not a flatmate. 

What else do other couples do...

And I need to get my own place so I can stop being some weird relationship referee.

I forbid it. 

You forbid it?

Sorry, I didn't take any joy in doing that, but I think it's for the best.

I never gave you the key back.

What are the conditions?

It's a bit of perfect timing.

How are you OK with this?

Could be it's time we tried a bit harder to get along.

I can make myself scarce if you guys need to... chat

What are we doing for dinner?

That sounds like a boyfriend job.

So it's "we" now?

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 23

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Halloween chapter, part 1.

A/N: This is the first part of possibly a long-ish Halloween 'arc' that is to come. I have to warn you that I only have 1 more chapter as a draft version and the said chapter is a mess and has caused me a lot of insecurities so... I'm not entirely sure how long it will take me to work through the issues that chapter has. I still hope I will have something to post next Friday! Please be patient with me, I promise I have every intention to continue and finish this story.

Thanks for all the lovely comments the previous chapter got! You guys are the best :) And keep them coming because that is literally the best reward I can get :)

Words: 3200+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

“Hey Sunshine, you ready?” Leo asked her flatmate one November Friday as he was pulling his winter coat on in the hallway.

“In a minute!” Calypso yelled from her room. “Just… One final touch up!”

Leo checked his watch. “Okay, as long as it’s really a minute! You know Argo II isn’t waiting!”

“You do know that Argo II doesn’t have feelings, right? It’s a car,” his non-understanding flatmate argued.

“You better hope he didn’t hear that!” Leo protested. “He may just not turn on at all if you claim such things.”

“Oh my gods, Leo. Sometimes I wonder if you care about your machines more than people.”

Leo didn’t respond to that. To himself he mumbled. “At least I know how to fix them. And can’t hurt them.”

The flatmates were getting ready to leave for Jason and Piper’s late Halloween party. Most of the members of their friend group had been busy doing their own things on the real Halloween weekend but they had decided that they’d still want to have a small gathering at Jason and Piper’s house on a later date. Percy and Annabeth would be there, as well as Jason’s sister Thalia, her ‘friend’ Reyna, and Jason’s friend and a distant relative Nico. To Calypso Leo had told, that he had only met Nico a couple of times, because apparently Nico was a bit of a lonely soul and he wandered around the country doing who knows what. That fall, though, he had apparently met someone who had managed to keep him rooted to his home, so Leo suspected that there was a possibility that Nico really would show up this time.

Leo snapped out of his thoughts when Calypso’s door was pulled open, revealing the girl in her costume. His mouth opened involuntarily as he took her in. She was wearing a white chiton like dress with golden decorations around the neckline and accessories that matched the theme. Those included a golden headband and a belt, a bracelet made of real flowers, strappy leather sandals and since her own hair was short now, she had gotten a caramel colored wig that she had braided to one side, reminding Leo a lot of the hairstyle Calypso had had when she had moved in. She smiled at Leo shyly. “Well, what do you think?” She asked, lifting the hem of her dress slightly to show it off better.

“You’re… you’re…” Leo felt the words escape him again. With frustration he wondered how one person could do that to him. Leo Valdez never ran out of words.

“Calypso?” she tried to guess what he had wanted to say.

‘What?” He asked with confusion, unable to follow Calypso’s track of thoughts. In his mind he had answered her question ‘prettier than greek goddesses’ but he realized too late that she had meant that she was dressed up like the Calypso from the Greek mythology. “Oh, now I got it. Must have sniffed too much machine oil or something…Anyway, I see you have some self irony, dressing as your name sake.”

“That was kind of the point, Valdez. A girl named Calypso who studies Greek mythology? People comment on my name so often that I decided it’s time to make it clear that yes, I’m aware of that coincidence.”

“Ooh, the great revenge,” Leo chuckled. Suddenly he noticed that Calypso had turned more serious, her hands fiddling with her purse.

“Really, though, what do you think of this? I made this dress and these bracelets myself. And my mum gave me this before we moved here,” she pointed at her headband. “Apparently it’s something that’s been running in our family; my grandma wore it in her wedding picture and so on…”

“Oh… Well… that’s cool,” Leo said, mentally cursing the ‘error’ message on his brain. “You did a good job. I mean… I once saw a painting of Calypso in the Indianapolis Museum of Art and I think you look nothing like her… in a good way!”

“Aww, thank you.” Calypso seemed happily surprised about Leo’s comment, and he swore the expression made her even cuter. He also wondered if he should have a doctor check his heart because it seemed to do funny things in her presence...

“You’re welcome?” he replied stupidly.

“So, where is your costume?” Calypso asked curiously, apparently only now paying attention to the fact that he indeed wasn’t wearing one yet. “I thought you said we’re in a hurry.”

“I can’t drive in mine, it’s difficult to see from under it,” Leo explained, returning to his room to get a huge sports bag where he had packed his creation a bit earlier. He had spent several days making it and he was kind of proud of the final result. Although, seeing Calypso now, for a moment he still wondered if he had made a mistake with his costume choice, but it was too late to change his mind now. “I’ll put it on when we get there.” He gestured towards the bag.

“Okay,” Calypso nodded while changing her shoes into more fall suitable ones. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you have come up with.”

“Good, because it will blow your mind,” Leo claimed.

“I will refrain from forming any opinions before I see it,” Calypso noted, putting her keys into her pocket. “Now, come on, mister Mysterious, I hear Argo II isn’t very patient.”

Leo secretly loved it when Calypso attempted to joke back, and he grinned at her as he held the door open so she could leave first.

“Let’s go then, Sunshine.”

…

The drive to Jason and Piper took about 20 minutes so Leo and Calypso had a lot of time to talk about whatever came to their minds. At first Calypso gave Leo pretty short answers and he got worried that something was wrong between them again, but eventually Leo got her curious about the guests at the party that she hadn’t met yet.

“The Hunters are traveling a lot because of their competitions so I haven’t met Thalia that often. She’s a little bit scary, though. She has this edgy look going on and I’ve heard she is super strong; she’d ninja throw me on the floor before I’d have time to say Festus if given a chance. I’m trying very hard not to give her any reasons to do that.”

“Ouch. She sounds like something else,” Calypso said.

“She is,” Leo confirmed, almost getting chills only thinking about her. “She can be nice if you get to her good side, though.”

“Is it just me or does someone have a crush?” Calypso asked teasingly.

“What? No!” Leo exclaimed, glancing at Calypso’s reaction briefly. “Alright, maybe I used to have but that was when I didn’t know what was the best for me. But that was a long time ago. Besides, she’s totally dating someone even though they won’t admit it.” ‘And I wish I was dating someone else as well’, he thought, but left that unsaid.

“Oh? Will I get to meet that person today?” Calypso asked with curiosity.

“I think you will. From what I know Reyna’s always with Thalia. They claim they are only best friends but Jason has told me that they are keeping a low profile because it’s forbidden inside their team to date their teammates.”

“That sounds like a basis for a tragic love story,” Calypso said while staring out of the window with a dreamy expression. “I don’t even know these people but as a hopeless romantic I hope they will find some solution.”

Leo thought Calypso was very cute when she talked like that “Yeah. I hope.”

“So, do you know this Reyna personally?” she asked then, distracting Leo from his thoughts.

“You could say that,” Leo answered, trying to focus on the road instead of the girl next to him. “The team visits Waystation regularly because Jo and Emmie used to coach them back in the day and as a fellow Spanish speaker Reyna has always paid special attention to me. I swear, sometimes she treats me like I was his little brother…”

“Aww, that’s kind of sweet in my opinion. What is this team you were talking about, though? Did you say Hunters?”

“Oh, yep. The Artemis’ Hunters, named after the Greek goddess Artemis, naturally. It’s an archery group… Hey, is everything alright?”

Leo couldn’t help but notice that Calypso had shifted uncomfortably on her seat and adjusted her seatbelt a bit looser around her shoulder when he had said the name.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I just… used to know someone who was in the Hunters as well, so I was surprised they have some connections here, that’s all.” Calypso turned her head to stare out of the window, sending Leo signals that he should drop the topic. He decided to push it a little bit further, though.

“You did? But you said ‘was’. Is she not in it anymore?”

“No,” Calypso shook her head, but didn’t elaborate.

“OK.” Leo sighed. A few moments earlier Calypso had been smiling and teasing him about some old crush and now she was acting cold again. Clearly the Hunters were a painful topic for her, but Leo couldn’t figure out why. Had something happened to the person Calypso had known? And why did she have to be so secretive? Leo wanted so badly to be able to help her and understand her, but when she was not opening up, it was very hard to do anything about it.

“Any guesses about what my costume may be?” He decided to change the topic. That seemed to cheer his flatmate up a bit.

Calypso closed her eyes while thinking, a tiny smile forming on her face. “Hmmm, I imagine it’s probably something flashy. But knowing you it could also be your work coveralls and working boots. I know how much you love those, after all.”

“It’s flashy, alright,” Leo said, his grin returning back to his face. “I’ll give you another hint: it’s a character from one of my favorite TV shows or movies.”

“You have a lot of those,” Calypso reminded him. “Ooh, now I know!! You’re Dalek! That’s why you would have a hard time seeing from under the costume.”

“No,” Leo shook his head, “But now that you say that, that would’ve been cool! Why didn’t you give me that idea earlier?”

“Because you already had an awesome idea? Or that’s at least the impression I got,” Calypso reminded him.

“Well, yeah. I still like my current idea. Maybe next time I’ll make a Dalek.” Leo had a goofy smile on his face as he imagined building a Dalek costume from the scratch.

“Sounds like a plan. So, will you reveal to me what you will be this time?” Calypso asked.

“Nah, you’ll see soon. Good things are worth waiting for, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Calypso shrugged. “Although our opinions on what’s good tend to differ a bit based on our previous TV watching experiences.”

“Yeah, but that’s why it’s good we are flatmates. It’s good to broaden your horizons sometimes and learn about different things that other people like,” Leo pointed out.

“Maybe you’re right,” Calypso admitted. “But are you saying you have learned something from me? What could that be?”

“That olives taste bad? That sometimes Venusaur can be more useful than Charizard?”

“Not exactly what I was looking for, but I’ll take that.” Leo turned his head just enough to see a small smirk on Calypso’s face.

“I was just messing with you because I think you secretly like it,” Leo said with a grin. “But really, you have taught me a lot. That we shouldn’t let fears control the direction of our life. That Greek mythology is actually pretty fascinating even if tía Callida made it sound boring as hell, and we should all learn to understand different cultures better. And, you know? There’s no way we can know every single thing about someone else so we just need to learn to trust and give them a benefit of the doubt sometimes. And finally, I shouldn’t underestimate your Mario Kart skills.”

Calypso snorted at the last part. “Sometimes you do surprise me, Repair Boy. That was a good answer.”

“I can feel my reputation as the Bad Boy Supreme getting shattered to pieces. What about me, though? Have I taught you something?” Leo asked. If he was honest to himself, he didn’t want to know because what could he possibly teach to a smart girl like her?

“You taught me that chilis are evil and you should never eat them the way I did,” Calypso replied, and Leo was fully prepared for more teasing. But it never came.

“You have also shown me sometimes persistency can be a very good thing – otherwise we probably wouldn’t be friends now. We also shouldn’t judge a book by the cover – I’m just saying that when I first saw you I was kind of prejudiced… but since learning to know you better I realized I was wrong. And remember that time when Jo and Georgina were visiting us and you came home a bit late? Jo told me some stories about you before you arrived and that made me understand how far hard work can sometimes take us. You’ve come a long way… and while there are always things we can work on and improve, I think it’s important to be proud of the things we have already achieved, even when looking ahead.”

“Wow… those are some really nice things you just said there…” Leo stumbled to find the right words. Especially the last point had hit him hard because he had had a very hard time with his self esteem recently. He still didn’t know if he would be allowed to retake his lab test – and more importantly, if he was even capable of trying. That was just the tip of the iceberg; it definitely wouldn’t be the only time he would have to face his fear during his studies and later on in the work life, and he would eventually have to make the difficult decision whether it was worth going through. He did want to get over his fear, but with her own issues on her mind, he hadn’t wanted to ask her to help until the situation was better.

“Hey,” Calypso squeezed his knee gently and Leo was afraid he’d accidentally brake so fast they’d crash somewhere. Thankfully he managed to contain himself. “I know I nag and tease you sometimes, but I hope you know despite that I actually care about you and respect you for the things you do. I’m… glad you’re my flatmate.”

Leo was very thankful that it was dark in the car because he was positive that he was redder than a chili pepper. After swallowing hard, he managed to croak: “Yeah. Thanks. You’re pretty neat too.��� “Pretty neat?” Calypso asked, cocking her eyebrow.

“Argh, sorry, you can’t expect a guy to be able to think straight after you tell them something like that!” Leo exclaimed. “But, uh, I mean, I think the same way. That it’s nice that you’re my flatmate.”

“Glad we have that established.” Calypso smiled at him. Again Leo wondered what it was about that smile that made his heart go crazy. He had had a couple of short term girlfriends before Calypso had moved in and even though he had liked them, there was something different about how Calypso made him feel. But now that Leo thought about it, he realized that for example Khione, his first girlfriend (who had turned out to be quite an ice queen in the end) had had a smile that had never quite reached her eyes and made him wonder what was truly going on in that head of hers. His second girlfriend, Echo, had been a sweet girl but something about her smile had said that she’d rather be free of relationship bonds. Leo thought that he had probably sensed that from pretty early on because it had been a smaller shock for him than his first break up. But Calypso’s smile? It made Leo want to see it over and over again, and instead of wanting something from him, it seemed to give him more energy. It made him feel restless, but in a positive way.

When Leo snapped out of his thoughts, he realized that Calypso was staring at him weirdly, as if he had been in his daze for a while.

“What?” he asked a bit nervously.

“You just completely missed my question,” Calypso stated, frowning a little.

Leo tried to shake his head to clear his mind a bit. “Sorry, I was just… remembering something. But what did you ask?”

“I asked if there’s any news from your professors about your studies. It’s been a while since you’ve said anything about that.”

Leo gulped. “Yeah. Right. Um, at the moment I’m continuing to attend the classes except the lab one. I guess I should ask the lab professor if he would still let me redo the test at some point. But the other problem is, I’m not sure if I can. You know, if I have it in me to get over my stupid fear.”

“It is not a stupid fear, Leo. You have your reasons. But I do believe that you can get over it. And I want to help you. We should start working on it soon, how about tomorrow or some time next week?”

“Tomorrow is fine to me.” Leo started tapping his fingers against the wheel, a sign of him feeling anxious about the topic. “I… really appreciate your help. Is there something I can do in return?”

“You already did!” Calypso said to his surprise.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Remember that flower shop you mentioned to me?” Calypso asked. “I guess I’ve been so busy this week that I forgot to mention this but it looks like I’m getting the job! The interview went well and the boss invited me to see how they make their flower arrangements and they even let me do this.” Calypso showed him her flower bracelet that had some small roses and several other flowers the names of which he didn’t know. “She will make her final decision on Monday but I might start working there already next week.”

“That’s awesome news! Congrats!” Leo said, genuinely happy for her.

“Thank you! And sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it seems we have both been rather busy this week, I feel I’ve barely seen you…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I was useful for something! But look, that’s Jason and Piper’s place.” He nodded towards the building in front of them.

Leo looked from the corner of his eyes how Calypso would react to seeing the house. From what he knew Calypso hadn’t been there earlier; she and Piper had hung out more at their flat due to the closeness of the university. He wasn’t disappointed when he saw Calypso’s mouth open a bit.

“I know, pretty impressive.” Leo said.

“I have seen big houses before but this looks way nicer than the ones I know…” Calypso noted. Leo wanted to ask more about that but he knew that the friends were waiting so he decided to leave it for later. Once he had parked the car, some strange instinct told him to rest his hand on hers for a moment before he gestured to Calypso to step outside.

“After you.”

[mermaidcashton]

dance in the living room, love with an attitude

authors: claire (@mermaidcashton) & laura (@maluminspace)  ship/AU: michael clifford/ashton irwin, roommates AU  prompt: “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.”  wordcount: 10k+ warnings: swearing, implied & explicit sexual content  a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - check out the masterlist linked to see everyone elses!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘only human’ by the jonas brothers dance in the living room, love with an attitude *** The music was probably turned up a little too loud, but it helped to drown out the nerves starting to bubble away in Michael’s tummy.  ‘I hope ‘Ashton’ likes MCR’ he thought as he half-heartedly wiped down the kitchen counters with a damp cloth. He wanted the place to look mildly tidier than it usually did for his new flatmate. First impressions counted for a lot, as his mum had told him twice this week already.

Once the splashes of milk from this morning’s mishap with the cereal had been washed away along with the crumbs from last night’s dinner of peanut butter on toast, he stole a quick glance at the clock on the wall over in the living room area. It wasn’t quite midday, which meant he had a little over an hour until his new roommate was due to arrive. That should mean that he just about had enough time to vacuum the whole flat and take a shower.  Throwing the dishcloth into the little cleaning basket on the window ledge, Michael focused on  screaming the lyrics to ‘Thank you for Venom’ and tried not to focus too much on the anxiety about the rest of the day.

Agreeing to live with someone he’d never met in person probably wasn’t the smartest of ideas. It’s not like Michael had been given much choice, though. His last flatmate had given him less than a week’s notice when she decided to move in with her short-term girlfriend and left Michael with a whole bunch of bills that his meagre paycheck could never stretch far enough to cover. Luckily, his best friend Luke had a work colleague who desperately needed a new place to live since his landlord had slapped him with a very short notice period to move out of his current flat. Luke had offered to give this work friend Michael’s contact details and the following morning, Michael had woken up to a text from a guy called Ashton who was very interested in Michael’s recently vacant spare room. 

After explaining the cost of rent and other bills in a few subsequent texts, Michael had received a very grateful reply from Ashton asking if it would be possible to  move in that weekend. Of course the blonde had agreed, eager to get the awkward first meeting out of the way as soon as possible.

Determined to get his most hated chore done before he could start collecting his thoughts and mentally preparing for the arrival of his new flatmate, Michael grabbed the portable hoover from the charging port on the tiny bit of the kitchen wall that was not taken up by the counters and cabinets. He was just about to press the ‘ON’ button when a knock at the door put an abrupt halt to his plans.

Michael huffed as he made his way over to the front door. The only people that had the security code for the entrance of the building were his parents and Luke, neither of which were due to visit today. That left only someone who had the wrong flat, or one other possible visitor; his neighbour, Calum. They’d hang out sometimes, whenever their days off matched up. Their shared interest in certain obscure and rare computer games and a mutual love of sushi and beer made for hours of fun without the chore of actually having to leave the building. Michael had definitely made sure to let Calum know that he was expecting his new flatmate to arrive today, though, so he was a little confused as to why his neighbour would be dropping by now. 

That feeling only intensified when a glance through the spy hole on his front door revealed that Calum was accompanied by a stranger. He opened the door cautiously, still feeling a little bewildered. 

“Hey, mate.” Calum grinned, waving a handful of unopened letters in greeting. “Just found this guy outside with a bunch of boxes. I knew you were expecting your new flatmate today, so I helped bring his stuff up.” His dark brown eyes surveyed Michael with something like confusion from beneath the rim of his seemingly ever-present black bucket hat. 

Michael could only imagine that his neighbour was mirroring his own befuddled expression because Ashton wasn’t due to arrive for another hour. He forced himself to look over at the stranger, whilst his mind worked over what was happening.

It appeared that Calum was right in assuming this was Ashton. He was indeed carrying a large cardboard box labelled ‘bedroom’ that would definitely suggest he was moving house. There were also a bunch of smaller boxes piled against the wall beside the front door which supported that assumption. 

“Do you guys need any more help?” Calum offered, “I’m free if…”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Michael cut in quickly. “We can take it from here, thanks Cal.” The last thing Michael wanted was more people to see the apartment in its current state. 

“No worries.” Calum smiled, “You know where I am if you change your mind.” He turned his attention to his little fluffy dog who had been patiently waiting for his post-walk nap. “C’mon Duke.” 

Once Calum and his little fluff ball had wandered off across the hall towards their own apartment, Michael turned his attention back to Ashton. Three things struck him about his new flatmate in very quick succession;

Ashton was incredibly hot. His curly black hair hung loosely around his handsome face, framing his chiselled cheekbones and clean shaven, angular jaw beautifully. His hazel eyes were striking from behind the horn-rimmed glasses perched neatly on his perfectly ski-slope shaped nose. 

He looked vaguely familiar. Michael knew that he’d seen Ashton’s face somewhere before but it wouldn’t quite click in his brain. Not that it would be entirely surprising if they’d met before, they did share a close friend after-all. It just seemed a little off that Luke hadn’t reminded Michael of the occasion they'd met at before suggesting they live together.

Despite his silence, Ashton looked somewhat annoyed, possibly bordering on angry. That struck Michael as odd. He had been known to piss people off fairly regularly but seeing as he’d barely even spoken to Ashton, this would be an all time record.

“So you must be Ashton…” Michael smiled, awkwardly tucking a strand of his messy blonde hair behind his ear whilst offering his free hand out for his new flatmate to shake. “I’m Michael, or you can call me Mike if you want. Most of my friends do.” Ashton didn’t accept the offer of a handshake, in fact he made no movement whatsoever. He simply glared at Michael with an increasing level of irritation. “Are you kidding me?” 

Michael knew that he was not the prettiest of people. He dressed casually most of the time and due to Ashton’s early appearance, he’d not yet had a chance to shower and make himself a little more presentable. He didn’t think that he quite deserved such a cutting greeting, though. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you yet, I was just…”

“You don’t even remember me, do you?!” Ashton interrupted, his tone dripping of resentment now. “Fucking unbelievable!”  Michael couldn’t remember ever feeling more confused in his life. Ashton hadn’t mentioned that  they’d previously met in his text messages so why would he be so angry that Michael hadn’t immediately recognised him now? 

The newcomer’s harsh tone had caught Calum’s attention, causing the neighbour to pause in sorting through his mail and stare unashamedly at the scene unfolding across the hall.

“This could only fucking happen to me…” Ashton huffed, adjusting his grip on the box in his arms. “I get turfed out of my flat because my landlord suddenly decides he wants it for his daughter and just when I think I’ve landed on my feet with a new place, my new fucking flatmate turns out to be a one night stand who doesn’t even remember me! Talk about kicking a guy when he’s down!”

Michael barely registered Calum’s audible gasp as realisation crashed around him. Suddenly the memory of the beautiful man that had swept Michael off his feet at a bar a few months back replayed in his head like a movie he’d seen once but hadn’t been able to remember the title of. He’d only known the guy as Ash and he’d assumed it was short for Ashley. Despite the fact that Ash’s hair had been a sexy shade of crimson, styled in a neat quiff and he hadn’t been wearing glasses, it was definitely the same guy that was standing in front of him right now. 

“Ash…” the word escaped Michael almost of it’s own volition. “But I thought that was short for… oh my god, this can’t be happening.” He cupped his own face in his hands as the reality of the awkward situation began to settle into the very fibre of his being.

“Wow, you can’t make this shit up.” Calum gasped, an almost delighted smile on his face. “What’re you guys gonna do?” 

Despite Calum’s annoying rubbernecking, it gave Michael the perfect excuse to look away from Ashton for a second. “Well I’m gonna throw something at you, if you don’t get lost right now, Calum.” He hissed. 

“He’s not the one coming across like a shithead right now.” Ashton scoffed, setting the box in his arms onto the floor. “Being a nosey neighbour still makes you a hell of a better person than the guy that flatters their way into your bed and gives you amazing sex but then gives you a fake number!”

“That’s right.” Calum agreed. “People that do that are the worst. At least have the balls to tell the other person you’re not looking for anything long term before you disappear the next day.”

“Calum, I swear to god…” Michael hissed. 

Ashton shook his head angrily. “He’s right, if you never wanted to see me again, you could have just said. I wouldn’t have wasted some of my best moves on you.” 

“Oh, what were the moves?” Calum smirked, prying his way further into the conversation. 

His neighbour’s blatant disregard for the seriousness of the situation was annoying to say the least. It was also the last thing Michael needed to deal with right now. “Piss off, Calum!”, he snapped. 

Duke yapped disapprovingly at Michael, his tiny eyes focused on the blonde man as his human’s smirk grew even further across his face.

“Oh, you can shut up as well!” Michael snapped at the tiny pooch. “Now you’re yelling at a dog.” Ashton rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s a good thing you blew me off, looks like I had a lucky escape from dating an arsehole!”  Michael really couldn’t envisage the situation getting any worse. At this rate he was going to be searching for another roommate instead of enjoying a pleasant lunch with this one, like he’d hoped. 

“I didn’t give you a fake number!” Michael protested. “I swear, I’m not like that, and I really liked you! I broke my phone, the same weekend we...met.” He felt his cheeks begin to colour, trying his hardest to ignore Calum’s snort as he focused on Ashton’s disbelieving face.

“It took me two weeks to sort out a new one, I had a little pay as you go in between, I had a different number, and I-you did call, then?” Michael paused his blurted explanations to blurt out a question, instead. He had been wondering every time it was late and he was alone for 6 months whether or not he’d missed a call from the best one night stand of his life. 

“Of course I did!” Ashton threw his hands up in exasperation, startling Duke and sending him scuttling back into the still-open doorway of the opposite flat. “I thought we had a connection, we said we wanted to see each other again; that doesn’t happen that often for me! Maybe it does for you…”

“Oh, it definitely doesn’t.” Calum smirked. “The only man who comes to see Michael regularly is the Domino’s delivery guy.” 

Before Michael could blow up at him, Calum backed up properly into his flat, resting his hand on his front door. “It’s a shame, actually,” he continued, smiling encouragingly at his neighbour. “Michael is really a great guy. He always has time for me and Duke; whether it’s for beers, a listening ear, or belly rubs.” 

He throws a wink to Ashton as he shuts his front door with a click. “I’ll leave you to figure out which one is for me. Welcome to the building!” 

Michael knows he needs to gain control of the slightly-stunned silence left in Calum’s wake, fast. He needs to say something apologetic, or charming, or cool. “Do you like fish fingers?” Or that. 

Ashton blinked a few times in quick succession, and Michael wanted to throw himself down the stairs. 

“Do I like fish fingers?” Ashton repeated, pushing his long black hair back with both hands.

Michael flushed again, at least thankful for the fact that he no longer had an audience for the most embarrassing encounter of his life. “It’s just, I thought we could have lunch, and talk, and I’m not really much of a cook, but I have fish fingers, right, and everyone likes fish finger sandwiches...don’t they…” He trailed off, hoping Luke perhaps had another co-worker who needed immediate accommodation. 

Ashton fixed him with the most intense stare he’d ever received in a conversation about freezer food, and Michael tried to match his unrelenting gaze in a way that would make him look less like he wanted to cry. Ashton’s eyes really were beautiful, seeming almost magnified by his glasses. He looked thoughtful and sad now, rather than judgmental and angry, and Michael would take that.

“I do.” Ashton decided on, after what felt like an eternity. He stooped down to pick up his box again, muscles tensing, and Michael’s mind began to wander. 

He remembered Ashton’s arms looking just like that as he lifted him up for the last few feet of the journey to the redhead-at-the-time’s bed. Michael could almost feel his fingers digging into the bare skin of his thighs all over again. The memories of slow, wet, considered neck kisses being broken with teeth, and the delicious burn that started low and spread like wildfire as Ashton stretched him out like he was born to do it.

“Michael? After you?”  Michael snapped out of his daze, dragging his eyes away from Ashton’s lips where they had landed at some point in his reminiscing. He stepped back so Ashton could enter the flat and set the box down by the sofa. “Yeah, great, come in, make yourself at home, I’ll get the rest of your boxes!”   As soon as he was outside in the corridor, Michael let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. ‘Okay, Clifford - you need to snap out of it. Relax and smooth things over so you two can live together.’ He told himself, as sternly as he could manage. ‘We need a roommate more than we need to get laid.’

‘That’s debatable.’ Another voice - which sounded more like Calum than himself - chimed in before Michael shook it off and picked up the stack of cardboard boxes cluttering up the corridor.

‘Okay, you can do this. Damage control. Just be normal. Go in and face this head on. You can do this.’ Michael murmured, running his tongue over his bitten lips as he took his first steps back to where Ashton was waiting.

He hip-checked the front door closed as he re-entered the flat, placing the boxes next to one Ashton had carried in, before straightening up to see Ashton sat on the sofa, looking both nervous and delicious. 

“I…” Michael faltered under Ashton’s almost shy gaze, then caught sight of a slice of Ashton’s firm, hairy stomach from where his t-shirt was riding up slightly.

“I just need to go to the bathroom. Then we can...talk, and eat. Okay?” Michael forced what he hoped was a casual, winning smile, and then scuttled across to the bathroom the moment Ashton made a noise of agreement and nodded his head.

Michael clicked the lock shut and put the toilet lid down as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants. He began tapping away with urgency as he took a seat on the toilet, pulling up his message thread with his best friend.

SOS!!!! 🚨

Luke!!!!

Where are you

LUKE FUCK HELP ME YOU DICK

With each message he sent, Michael could feel his panic beginning to swell back up in his chest. Finally, three dots began moving across the message to indicate Luke was writing. Help was on the way.

🥺🥺🥺 What’s up

Michael felt what he knew was an unjustified rage at Luke and his fucking emojis as he furiously typed a reply.

Oh nothing, I just had sex with my new roomate!!!

Michael jumped when his phone immediately started vibrating relentlessly, sliding his finger across the screen and holding it gingerly to his ear. 

“Hello?” He whispered into the receiver. 

“WHAT!!! What do you mean you’ve slept with him?! Ashton was due there at 12, and it’s now...12 minutes past 12! That’s INSANE, even for you! I cannot believe-”

“Luke!” Michael hissed through clenched teeth, turning on the cold tap on the sink before he spoke again. “Not today, idiot! Remember, months ago, when I broke my phone? That weekend, I hooked up with that guy I met at The Alchemist? Red hair, big arms, amazing mouth-”

“Yes, I remember! What’s that got to do with it?” Luke cut in. 

“It was Ashton. I only knew him as Ash, remember? And obviously I never saw him again because I had no way to contact him after I broke my phone. But it’s him, Luke - he’s in my living room! In OUR living room! What am I gonna do?! I am freaking out!”

“Oh my God! You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Mike! You’ve had your new roommates dick in your mouth before he even moved in! Classic you.”

Michael could practically hear Luke’s eyeroll. “This is not classic me! Dick! Help me, Luke!”

“What do you want me to do, I can’t unfuck him for you!” Luke shot back. Michael let out an involuntary whimper and slumped further down on the toilet. He was so screwed.  

***

Michael emerged from the bathroom, Luke’s advice ringing in his ears as he approached Ashton on the sofa.  ‘He’s a really nice guy, Mike; just talk to him. Explain what happened after you hooked up, and say you hope you can put it behind you and be friends. I think he’ll be cool, honestly. Just try not to trip and land on his dick and you should be golden.’ 

He took one last deep breath as he sat down on the black leather beside his one-time lover.

“So, Ashton...I...listen, I’m sorry that I broke my phone and made you think I’d ghosted you. I’m just an idiot that dropped his phone outside Sainsbury’s. And I’m really sorry I didn’t recognise you straight away, I was just expecting someone I hadn’t, and your hair, and glasses, and-” Michael could feel himself starting to babble but he couldn’t stop himself; he was so desperate for Ashton to like him. He was trying not to think about why it was this important to him. 

Ashton held his hand up to stop him with a small smile. “Michael, it’s okay.”  

Michael stopped short in his unravelling with a look of surprise. “It is?”

Ashton’s smile grew wider. “Yeah. I was just a bit blindsided, and I was hurt at the time back then, you know? But you explained, you apologised, and you seem like a nice guy. Luke sure can’t talk you up enough, and I trust him. I have no reason not to believe this is gonna be all good.” 

Michael blinked, unsure if this was too good to be true. “Yeah? So...we’re good? You’re gonna...stay?”

Ashton relaxed back into his seat, toeing his shoes off and under the coffee table. “If that’s okay with you, yeah. We’re both grown ups; we can keep it platonic and put the past behind us, right? Friends?”

Michael nodded, trying to hide the gulp in his throat. “Yeah, of course. Right. Great. Friends.” He could definitely do this.

***

He could definitely not do this. 

It’d been a long one month, two weeks and three days of trying to convince himself that he didn’t want to be anything more than Ashton’s friend and roommate. 

Some days, Michael thought it was possible to put those lingering feelings away and focus on their blossoming platonic relationship. After all, Ashton was everything most people could ever want in a flatmate. He was tidy, considerate, fairly quiet and respectful of personal boundaries. The slightly older man was also great company. Michael has had many pleasant conversations with him over breakfast and in the evenings before they went to bed. 

As lovely as all of that was, Michael had started questioning if it was worth the growing ache in chest for more. Each new thing he learnt about Ashton made him more sure that he was probably the closest thing to the perfect man that Michael would ever know. It was a cruel twist of fate that had meant his one opportunity to have Ashton for himself had slipped through his fingers, quite literally. He cursed himself on a daily basis for that one clumsy moment when he’d fumbled pulling his old phone from his too-tight jeans outside the supermarket and had been forced to watch his only chance with Ashton sink into a muddy puddle. 

Whatever higher powers existed had been even less kind to have that strong, gorgeous, well-hung man turn up on Michael’s doorstep months later, as his only hope of being able to keep the flat he’d grown to love. 

Every day since then, seemed to have presented a new challenge or torture. First it was the tight t-shirts and vests Ashton wore more often than not. They accentuated every muscle of the raven-haired man’s torso and displayed his strong biceps in all their glory. 

Then came the sleepy morning routine they’d subconsciously fallen into. Ashton would emerge from his room in nothing but his loose grey sweats and crooked glasses, his hair ruffled and his eyes heavily lidded, before joining Michael for a hasty breakfast which usually consisted of cereal or toast and mug of strong coffee. It was during these sluggish mornings when they’d started to bond over their mutual love of crime dramas and fantasy movies, among other things. That had naturally led to evening-long Criminal Minds marathons whole weekends debating whether the Lord of the Rings movies or the Harry Potter movies were the better adaptations of their original books. Those playful arguments had spilled over into text messages now, so Michael couldn’t even escape his torturous living situation when he went to work. 

Despite all of that hardship, the most latest and arguably the toughest challenge Michael found himself facing, was Ashton’s morning yoga. At first, the older man had kept that part of his morning routine confined to his bedroom. For some reason or another, over the last week or so, Ashton had decided that the living area was a more suitable location for this activity. 

If Michael thought that sleepy, shirtless morning Ashton was hot, then sleepy, shirtless morning Ashton doing the ‘downward dog’ was positively off the fucking scale. The way his large hands pressed into the yoga mat and the way his strong arms and legs tensed as he straightened his back and pushed his arse up into the air lingered in Michael’s mind all day. These images often flickered through his mind at night too, when he was alone in his bed with nothing but his hand for company. 

Deciding that a little get together with some friends would help dispel some of the tension, Michael floats the idea of asking Calum and Luke over for a ‘lads night’. Ashton had agreed easily, being a generally social person, he’d seemed enthusiastic about the possibility of hosting a mini party. 

A group message is created and it doesn’t take long to settle on the following Friday night for beer, snacks and a FIFA tournament. 

Ashton seemed to have been looking forward to it, often mentioning how excited he was to get to know Calum better and asking Michael to help him decide between certain snacks to purchase for the occasion. 

All in all, Michael was proud of himself for the idea, focusing on hosting a couple of friends had certainly given both him and Ashton something new to focus on. 

It was only when Friday arrived that Michael started to doubt his plan. Watching Ashton arrange plates of snacks on the kitchen counter, with the cutest concentration face he’d ever seen, started to make Michael wish they were spending the evening alone instead. He quickly pushes the thought of his head, berating himself for thinking something so stupid. It’s not like anything could happen between them even if they were alone, they were roommates now, that’s where their relationship ends. 

“So....” Ashton broke the silence enveloping the flat as he finished pouring a bag of cheesy Doritos into a bowl. “Did you finally solve the mystery of who was stealing people’s shit from your fridge at work?” 

Michael was caught off guard by the question. He’d been watching Ashton so intently that he momentarily forgot about everything else. It took him a moment to remember that he’d been keeping Ashton up to date with the ongoing lunch burglar drama at the DIY store he worked at. “Oh, umm no, not yet! But Brenda finally told Linda to stick her fake friendship where the sun doesn’t shine.” 

A genuinely delighted smile burst into Ashton’s face as he headed into the living room area. “Good for her! Linda sounds like a bitch…” 

It really meant a lot to Michael that Ashton took such an interest in his work life. The fact that he cared so much about people he didn’t know, but was aware they meant a lot to Michael, was also heartwarming. 

Before Michael could go into more detail about the break time drama, a knock at the front door interrupted him. “Oh yay! Our first guest!” Ashton beamed, jogging off towards the front door to greet Calum.

***

As soon as the beer and wine had started flowing, Michael’s ever-present pining for Ashton dulled to an almost non existent haze at the edges of his mind. Sure, his knees felt weak every time Ashton flashes him that dopey smile of his and he might have blushed whenever their knees touched as they competed against each other in a thrilling game of virtual soccer. 

That was all better than his usual all-consuming lust, so Michael was somewhat proud of himself. He even managed to surprise the urge to let Ashton win their game, and was almost smug when his player sent the football flying past Ashton’s keeper to secure a 2-1 win. 

“Motherfucker!” Ashton grumbled, throwing his control pad into the sofa as he fixed Michael with look that was almost definitely the hottest gaze he’d ever been caught under. “I’m gonna get you for that, Clifford.” It sounded like a promise that held more weight than the simple challenge to a rematch it was probably meant to be. 

Michael had to fight back a whimper, staring into Ashton’s beautiful hazel eyes this closely was too much. The intensity of it all rendered him momentarily speechless and he was all-too glad when Ashton got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. 

“I need to drown my sorrows.” The black-haired man laughed, breaking the tension that had descended on them before heading off to the kitchen. Ignoring the knowing looks from his two friends, Michael picked up Ashton’s discarded controller and tossed it to Luke. “Your turn to face me, Hemmings. Let’s see if I can beat my all time record of beating you 6-1” 

“Fuck off! You have never beat me that badly.” Luke huffed, picking up the control pad that had just landed in his lap. “I’m gonna enjoy kicking your ass in front of your new boy-“

“Shit, we’re out of beers already!” Ashton’s interruption came at exactly the right moment in Michael’s opinion. He really hadn’t wanted Luke to finish that sentence and now he wouldn’t get the chance. 

“I’ll go to the shop for some more, does anyone have specific requests?” The eldest friend asked as he traipsed back into the living room area. 

“Oh you don’t have to go!” Michael shrugged, “you should stay here, we’ll send Luke instead, he sucks at this game anyway.” 

Luke scoffed, waving his hand defensively. “You’re not getting out of playing me that easily!” 

Ashton laughed, his eyes sparkling as he checked that his wallet was still in his jeans pocket. “It’s fine. I’m already out of the competition and I wouldn’t want to give anyone else an unfair advantage.” 

Maybe it was just the effects of the beers he’d already drank, but Michael could have sworn that Ashton’s gaze lingered on him a little longer than it probably should have. “You’re too nice.” The blonde beamed fondly, “I’ll transfer you my half of the money in the morning, unless you wanna take a tenner from my room?” 

“Oh is that an open invitation?” Calum asked, a lazy smile curling the corners of his lips. “You owe me at least that from when we bet on whether or not Luke could drink that tzatziki sauce last time.” 

“Fuck off, Calum! I don’t owe you a penny, I won that bet, Luke’s a fucking wuss…” 

“Hey! I am not!” Luke interrupted incredulously. 

“Okay, I need to hear that whole story when I get back!” Ashton giggled. “I’ll just grab a case of whatever beer is the cheapest though, yeah.” 

There was a general murder of agreement before Ashton headed out of the front door. Michael fond him watching until Ashton had disappeared into the hallway, swinging the front door closed behind him. “He’s so nice…” The blonde sighed dreamily, still gazing at the closed front door. “Don’t you think he’s just the best?” 

Calum and Luke exchanged a ‘is he for real’ glance before silently agreeing that this was the perfect opportunity to tease Michael about his blatant love for Ashton. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty special.” Calum agreed, smirking slyly. “You really can’t sing his praises highly enough, can you?” 

Shaking his head, Michael finally returned his attention to the TV. “You really can’t, he’s just so kind and sweet.” 

Calum nodded in agreement. “Not bad to look at either!” 

“Right?!” Michael giggled, oblivious to the fact that his tipsiness was making his lips too loose.  

“Hey Mike.” Luke cut in, reaching over to nudge his friend’s shoulder. “How’s being in love with your flatmate working out for you?” His conversational tone was entirely at odds with mischief in his eyes. It confused Michael but the youngest friend’s words were altogether too bold, a blatant overstep if ever there was one. 

Despite his inner rage at being called out like this, Michael fumbled, unable to cobble together an appropriate response. “Ugh, I don’t even… You’re so far-“ 

“There’s no point denying it anymore.” Calum chuckled, “I can feel the sexual tension between you two from across the hall!” 

“God, I bet it’s like watching a car crash, isn’t it?” Luke asked, picking up the bowl of M&M’s on the coffee table. “It’s horrific but you can’t tear your eyes away? Am I right?” 

Calum nodded. “It’s like watching a bad fucking soap opera.” 

Michael felt offended and embarrassed but still no words seemed to form coherently in his mouth. 

“At least it’s a bit less tragic now we can be sure it’s not entirely one sided!” Luke stage whispered with a calculating look on his face as he met Calum’s gaze.

“Yeah, it’s mildly less irritating!” Calum laughed. 

“Wait, what do you mean?” Michael sputtered. “Ash and I agreed that our one night stand is ancient history, we’re not-“ 

“Oh puh-lease!” Calum scoffed. “If you two haven’t fucked again by the end of this month I’ll eat my bucket hat.”

***

Ashton had returned with a case of twenty four bottles of beer and as a result, lad’s night had ended up running into the early hours of Saturday morning. 

Having drank his way through more than his fair share of that case, Michael didn’t end up rising from his pit until noon had long since been and gone. 

“Ah you are still alive!” Ashton chuckled, tearing his attention away from the TV to look at his flatmate. 

This was definitely not fucking fair. Michael didn’t need to look in a mirror to know that he looked exactly as he felt - rough as all hell. Ashton on the other hand, still looked as dreamy as ever. His black curls, although slightly ruffled and fluffy, were still on the stylish side of messy and he’d somehow found the motivation to get dressed, too, something Michael wasn’t even contemplating.

 “I’m glad you’re up now, though, I wondered if you had anything planned for dinner?” Ashton asked, peering at Michael from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. 

The thought of food made Michael’s stomach lurch unpleasantly and he had to fight to hold back a wretch. 

Ashton gives a sympathetic giggle before pausing his show and rising to his feet. “I’ll take that as a no. Don’t worry, buddy. I have a plan but first…” he jogged over to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. “Why don't you go and take a shower while I make you a tea? You’ll feel better after that and then we will talk dinner!” 

As Michael plods over to the bathroom, he shoots one last look over at Ashton, busily preparing mugs on the countertop and tries his absolute hardest to remember a time that he wasn’t in love with his flatmate.

***

As always, Ashton was proven to be 100% correct. 

Michael felt a million times better once he was showered and snuggled on the sofa with a mug of steaming tea. 

“You look a little more alive now.” Ashton smirked, sparing Michael a sideways glance before returning his attention to ‘Law and Order’. “Do you think you can handle talking about dinner yet?” 

The ache in Michael’s stomach felt a lot more like hunger than it had done when he first woke up and the thought of food didn’t make him feel like throwing up anymore so he nodded. “What’re your plans, chef?” 

Ashton’s cheeks turned a rosy pink as he shrugged. “I couldn’t bear to see you try to cobble together another freezer meal so I thought you might like me to teach you a simple pasta dish?” He suggested, his tone a little shy like he was worried what Michael’s reaction would be. “I’ll do most of the work, but I thought if you helped out, you’ll learn how to make something other than Super Noodles.” 

Michael couldn’t even be mad at the subtle dig at his cooking skills. He was terrible in the kitchen and it was just a little embarrassing that Ashton had noticed just how dyer his cooking skills were. “When you say simple, do you mean like a recipe and technique you can write on the back of a postage stamp because that’s about the level of my skill.” 

Rolling his eyes, Ashton casually threw his arm around Michael’s shoulders. “Don't be so hard in yourself, buddy! I once taught Luke how to make scrambled eggs on the stove so he didn’t have to be a savage and use the microwave anymore, so there’s definitely hole for you, I promise.” 

Michael tried to focus on the hat Ashton was saying but all that his slow, hungover brain could process was that he was pressed against his stupidly gorgeous flat mate’s side. The heady smell of Ashton’s minty body wash and the soft scent of his fabric conditioner felt intoxicating and Michael could do nothing besides allow his head to drop into Ashton’s shoulder. 

To the blonde’s surprise, Ashton shuffle away or call him out on it. He simply rests his own head on Michael’s and laughs. “We’ll make a chef of you yet, Clifford.” He promised.

***

They spent a good three hours, watching reruns of C.S.I and making plans to start a Marvel movie marathon after dinner. They sat close to each other the whole time and Michael noticed Ashton watching him from the corner of his eye on at least three separate occasions. 

By the time Ashton suggested they start making dinner, Michael had gone over his conversation with Calum and Luke the previous night, about sixty times. His two best friends had convinced him that Ashton wanted Michael just as much as Michael wanted Ashton. 

“The way he looks at you, dude.” Calum laughed. “He’s practically imagining you naked at any given moment. It’s getting uncomfortable.” 

“Don’t be stupid!” Michael reprimanded. “He doesn’t think of me like that anymore. We had a one night thing months ago. That’s it. Nothing else will ever happen between us again, we’re just flatmates.” 

Calum and Luke exchanged a sceptical glance before bursting into laughter. 

“Yeah right!” Luke huffed sarcastically. “Do you know how many times I hear your name come out of his mouth at work these days?” 

Michael’s cheeks reddened. He had no idea that Ashton talked about him at work. It felt kind of surreal to imagine his roommate relaying snippets of their home life to Luke. 

“Let me guess!” Calum interrupted. “About a thousand…” 

Nodding, Luke drained the last of his beer. “Yeah and that’s just before lunch!”

“Honestly, if they don’t bang soon I’m gonna knock their heads together.” Calum sighed. “Did you know Michael comes over to my place most mornings so he doesn’t have to watch Ashton do topless yoga?” He asked Luke disbelievingly. “I want my lie-in’s back!” 

At the time, Michael hadn’t believed his friends. He didn’t think that there was even a remote possibility that Ashton still carried a torch for him. But in the clear light of day, Michael couldn’t deny that all the signs were there… perhaps there could be more between them after all. 

He followed Ashton into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his grey oversized sweater, trying to clear his mind enough to be able to process learning a new skill. 

“Okay, this is like the simplest recipe I know but it’s delicious and tastes so much better than the freezer junk you usually make for yourself.” Ashton rambles as he grabs a saucepan and a frying pan from the shelf near the cooker.  

“Hey, freezer junk has been my lifeline on many occasions, I’d probably be dead without it.” Michael scoffed, only half joking. 

Ashton rolled his eyes fondly, handing Michael the saucepan. “Fill this with water for me and then put it on the back hob, while it’s boiling I’ll teach you how to make the sauce.” 

As Michael carried out his instructions, he couldn’t help but admire the concentration on Ashton’s face when he began rifling through the fridge and cupboard, pulling out various ingredients. 

Once the pan of water was safely on the job Ashton had indicated, Michael returned his full attention to the slightly older man.

“Right, the first thing we do for the sauce is put 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil into this cold pan.” Ashton explained, pushing his glasses up his nose a little, reminding Michael of a hot English teacher or something… fuck, it was already difficult enough for Michael to concentrate without random fantasies about Ashton fucking him over a desk running through his mind. “Usually I’d never add oil to a cold pan, but for this particular recipe, it works because if the pan was already hot, the first ingredients would burn before the rest was in there.” 

There was something about the way Ashton talked with such passion and confidence that made Michael wish he was confident enough to just drag him to the bedroom, his need for more from Ashton becoming unbearable. He forced himself to nod, pretending like he understood when really, Ashton could be telling him absolutely anything right now, and Michael would not know the difference because all he can think about is the way Ashton had groaned at the feeling of Michael’s nails running down his back and how he’d growled Michael’s name as he neared his climax. 

“Can you pass me the basil?” Ashton asked, pulling Michael out of his memory. 

The blonde surveyed the ingredients on the countertop. Luckily he recognised most of them, so he picked up the basil by process of elimination and handed it to Ashton like a dutiful sous chef. 

Ashton looked mildly impressed as he took the bag of basil and took out handful. “We want about ten or so decent sized leaves and we tear them in half before adding them to the oil, okay?” He waited for Michael’s nod of understanding before tearing the leaves in his hand and dropping them into the pan. 

“Then we need to chop 6-8 cloves of garlic directly into the pan.” Michael looked back at the little stack of ingredients and frowned, noticing an instant problem. “We only have one clove of garlic…” he pointed out, biting his bottom lip worriedly. 

Ashton burst out laughing as he picked the garlic up from the counter. “This is a whole bulb, babe…” he explained, apparently not even noticing his use of the supposedly accidental pet name. 

It was difficult for Michael to feel too offended by Ashton’s laughter when he’d just called him babe, though, so he let it go, focusing on the term of endearment, no matter how accidental it might have been, rather than the humour at his dumb mistake. 

“It’s the smaller, wedge shaped pieces that are cloves, please don’t mix that up if you make this without my help.” Ashton chuckled, breaking six cloves from the bulb and picking up a tiny knife he’d laid out next to the oven. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” Michael pouted. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.” 

Ashton gave him a fond smile. “You’re not alone in that, I promise…” 

It was hard not to feel comforted by Ashton’s lopsided smile, so most of his embarrassment slipped away fairly quickly. 

“I just chop off the little hard parts at the bottom of each clove and peel the skin off before chopping it directly into the pan. Don’t chop it on a board or you’ll lose some of the flavour.” Ashton explained carefully. 

Michael watched with interest as Ashton demonstrated his technique with the first two cloves. He handed the third to Michael along with the knife and gestures for him to add it to the pan. 

It took him probably three times longer to chop that one clove into the pan, than it took Ashton to do the first two, but he was encouraging and patient. The older man praised Michael for completing the tiny task, seeming genuinely impressed.

Once all six cloves of garlic had been added to the pan, Ashton turned on the hob into a medium heat. “Okay, so we stir this together for about five minutes. Can you do that while I open the tin of tomatoes?” 

Michael nodded, picking up the wooden spoon from the counter and storing the simmering ingredients together. It already kinda smelt like his favourite Italian restaurant and his tummy grumbled impatiently. 

“One thing I should specify is, you need to use tins of whole tomatoes, not chopped.” Ashton explained as he poured the first tin of tomatoes into the sizzling pan. “Can you pour in the second one?” 

Michael did as he was told and watched as Ashton squished the whole tomatoes down and stored them into the red eat of the ingredients. 

“Mmm it smells so good.” Michael sighed, breathing in the delicious smells. 

Ashton looked proud of himself as he offered a smile. “Can you take over the stirring while I add the salt?” 

Michael took the spoon from Ashton, ensuring that their fingers brushed. 

There was a moment of eye contact and a silent shifting of tension between the two of them. If ever there was a time to bite the bullet and kiss Ashton, now would be it. His nerves failed him though and he dropped his gaze to the simmering pan. 

Instead of moving around Michael to pick up the salt as he’d done for the tomatoes, Ashton simply reached past the blonde, pushing him against the counter momentarily before he pulled back to add the salt to the pan. 

If Michael had been fully alert, he’d have recognised that for the flirtatious move it was meant to be, as it was, he put it down to a simple lack of judgement on Ashton’s part and continued to concentrate on stirring the sauce.

***

The tomato pasta tasted as good as it had smelt. It turned out to be exactly what Michael’s hungover body had needed. 

He and Ashton had eaten it at their little table in the kitchen. Conversation had flowed freely as always, skirting around flirtatious at times but never quite enough for Michael to pluck up the courage to take things further. 

“The only thing that would have made that better would have been a nice glass of white wine, but I thought you were still a bit too delicate for that.” Ashton giggled as he picked up the empty plates from the table and carried them over to the kitchen sink. 

“Hey, you drank as much as I did!” Michael pouted, picking up the empty glasses and following Ashton to the sink. “How’re you not hungover.” 

Ashton chuckled as he ran the water into the washing up bowl. “You’re just a lightweight, Mikey.” 

It wasn’t the first time Michael had been called that so it didn’t take him by surprise. He laughed it off as he grabbed a tea cloth ready to dry the dishes that Ashton washed. “One day you’ll stop teasing me, Irwin.” 

Ashton shook his head. “Don’t count on it, babe… you’re too easy to make fun of, that’s not my fault.” 

There it was again, that little slip, a fond nickname that roommates probably shouldn’t have for one another. 

Quickly pulling himself together, Michael nudged his flatmate in the arm, just hard enough to pull a surprised “oof” from him. 

“Careful now.” Ashton warned jokingly. “You don’t want to start a scuffle you can’t finish, Clifford.” 

Michael threw caution to the wind and nudged Ashton again, deliberately keeping his gaze on the plate he was drying. 

“That’s it!” Ashton huffed, scooping up a handful of bubbles and swiping them across Michael’s face. 

The blonde spluttered and shook his damp fringe out of his face before fixing Ashton with a glare. A few acts of retaliation flashed through his mind. He could have whipped Ashton with the tea cloth or splashed him with dishwater but none of that happened. 

There was something about the way Ashton’s eyes were sparkling, almost like he was daring Michael to do the thing he’d been too scared to do this whole time. He refused to let another opportunity pass like before when they were making the pasta sauce. Michael tried not to overthink as he stepped forward and cupped Ashton’s face with one hand before leaning in and kissing him. 

The raven-haired man’s lips felt every bit as soft as they had done on that night seven months ago. Ashton didn’t kiss back with the same hunger and desperation that he had done back then, though. 

Michael stepped back, feeling his cheeks heat up in an embarrassed blush. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Ash…” 

Ashton bit his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at Michael intently. “No…” He said, finally breaking his silence. “You just shouldn’t have waited so long.” 

The older man’s words had barely penetrated Michael’s brain before he was being  pressed against the counter behind him. Ashton’s lips were on his again but this time they were working just like they had been that night at Ashton’s old place. 

The intense kiss pulled a whine from Michael and he automatically wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck. 

It started as a fairly simple kiss but it quickly began to build momentum. It was the crack in the dam holding back all of their emotions for all this time. 

“Ashton…” Michael gasped as they pulled apart for air. “I know we said we should just be friends but…” 

“Fuck being just friends.” Ashton mumbled as he worked kisses down Michael's neck. “I can’t pretend anymore.” 

Those words were all Michael needed to hear in order to relax into this. “I can’t tell you how bad I’ve wanted this.” He whispered. 

Ashton slipped one of his thighs between Michael’s as he nipped at the blonde’s neck. “I think I have some idea.” He groaned. “I never stopped thinking of the way you moaned my name that night, Michael.” The older man confessed, pulling back just enough to look Michael in the eye. “Wanted it again since the moment I walked in here.” 

The way Ashton was looking at him like he wanted to devour every inch of Michael, had the blonde melting. “Me too.” He crashed his lips against Ashton’s in another desperate kiss as he subconsciously rutted against the older man’s thigh. After the months Michael had spent feeling kind of lonely and touch-starved, the tiny amount of friction was enough to have him whimpering against Ashton’s lips. 

“Uh, you sound and taste even better than I remember.” Ashton muttered, pressing his thigh harder against Michael’s crotch to pull another little gasp from him. 

“Ashton! Fuck, please, I…” Michael’s head tipped back as he lost his fight to regain any sort of control over his own body. He was in Ashton’s control now, and Ashton knew it.  

“Come on…” Ashton coaxed, stepping back from Michael as he took both of his hands in his to pull him away from the kitchen counter. Michael whined high in his throat as he easily followed where Ashton led. 

Michael had hardly been into Ashton’s bedroom since he had helped him move some furniture the day he moved in; it had almost felt too intimate to go into Ashton’s personal space given the history between them. Seeing it now, cozy and dark with slithers of light coming through the window from the lamp posts outside, gave Michael a chill; it felt like Ashton was sharing a secret with him.

He followed Ashton’s lead dutifully all the way to the bed, accepting the deep kiss Ashton offered him as a reward, before the older man peeled his oversized sweater from his torso, breaking away to pull it over Michael’s head. Michael wanted more contact, but was disappointed when Ashton gently but decisively laid him down among the crisp sheets, instead. 

Ashton pulled his own t-shirt over his head in one fluid motion and flicked the lamp on his bedside table on, bathing the bed in a warm glow that made Michael feel like he was in a dream. 

Michael gazed in wonder at Ashton as he climbed into bed beside him, letting his eyes travel all over his arms and chest, taking in the extra tone and definition in his body since the last time he’d been able to stare at him like this; clearly, the yoga was doing more than just allowing Ashton to ‘find his centre’. 

He didn’t think he was anything special to look at, but he could see Ashton mirroring his own actions, eyes full of lust searching all over the parts of Michael’s body he could see, and even his gaze lingering on a part he couldn’t.

 “Ash,” Michael breathed out, surprising himself with how far gone he sounded already. “Take ‘em off, I wanna…” He trailed off as Ashton’s eyes snapped up to meet his own, holding eye contact for only a moment before he nodded almost imperceptibly, shuffling down the bed and taking hold of the waistband of Michael’s sweatpants. He returned his gaze to the pale man before him, biting his own lip as he allowed his fingertips to graze the skin of Michael’s hips. “These too?” Ashton questioned in a low voice as he brushed the fabric of Michael’s underwear.    

“Oh God, yeah”, Michael answered, squirming slightly from the infuriatingly gentle feel of Ashton’s touch. Ashton didn’t need to be told twice. Michael shivered with the feeling of being suddenly completely exposed as his sweatpants and underwear hit the carpet. Michael looked up at Ashton through his lashes, braced up on his knees in his black, ripped jeans. “You’d better be planning on losing those in the next second, Irwin.”

Ashton smirked as he undid his jeans. “And I mean your underwear, too!” Michael amended hastily, hungry to see if his memory of Ashton’s body was accurate. 

The dark-haired man’s smirk grew wider at Michael’s clarification, pulling his zip down and allowing his jeans to fall open, exposing only bare skin beneath. “Underwear?” 

Michael’s jaw dropped a little, prompting a deliciously filthy laugh from his roommate. “For the record, roomie - I don’t wear underwear.” Ashton winked as he yanked his jeans down as far as he could in his current position, before wriggling around to pull them off completely. Michael was pleased to see that, if anything, his memory had been selling Ashton short. Blame it on the alcohol. 

Michael didn’t know how to decide on what to do first; on one hand, he wanted to kiss Ashton non-stop for the rest of eternity, but on the other hand, if he didn’t get filled up in the next 10 minutes, he was definitely going to throw a tantrum. Luckily, he realised, it probably wasn’t up to him. All of his experience with Ashton so far told him that the older man would definitely be taking the lead, and this was definitely not a problem for Michael. Indeed, it had worked out very well for him last time, when his staff night out started at the bar and ended with Ashton eating him out like his life depended on it. 

“What are you thinking?” Ashton’s sultry voice broke through his thoughts, apparently wanting a coherent answer despite the fact that he had just begun to run his fingers up and down Michael’s sensitive, pale inner thighs. Michael let out a shuddery breath as he tried to use his words to tell Ashton he wanted anything and everything possible between them, right there and then. Perhaps the way his cock twitched when Ashton let one his nails run over a faded stretch mark right at the base of one of his thighs would speak for itself. 

“Maybe we should get right to, huh, gorgeous?” Ashton teased, withdrawing his touches to lean towards his bedside table. He pulled open the top drawer, fumbling only for a moment until he found what he was looking for. The lube and condom were dropped carelessly onto the mattress as he shut the drawer again, returning his attention to the man almost-beneath him immediately. “We’ve got plenty of time for all the other goods stuff; right now, I need to fuck you, and I know you need me to fuck you...don’t you?”

Michael wondered at what point in his life he had begun to communicate exclusively in whines, but Ashton seemed to be into it, so it didn’t matter. Michael watched impatiently as Ashton popped the top on the half-empty bottle of lube, wasting no time in squirting a generous amount onto two fingers on his right hand and pulling Michael’s leg fully around his hip with his left.

Michael’s heart jumped as much as his cock when Ashton breathed gently on the lube coating his fingers in an attempt to warm it slightly before he brought them straight down to Michael’s bare hole, rubbing over it in a firm circle.

Michael was glad he didn’t have the problem of not wanting his roommate to hear him getting fucked, anymore, as he let out his loudest, neediest whine yet. Ashton proved he had meant what he said about not taking their time with their second tryst, sinking his index finger inside Michael in one fluid motion. Before Michael had got to 10, Ashton was opening him up at a steady, delicious pace and was driving Michael crazy in record time. 

Michael wouldn’t claim to be a pornstar or anything, but he didn’t normally have a problem with stamina. If Ashton kept it up like this, though, Michael was in danger of coming before Ashton’s thick cock got any closer to him, and that was unacceptable.

“Ash, please, I can’t...I want, ne-your cock, please!” Michael cried out as Ashton probed his spot one last time before immediately acquiescing to Michael’s begging. Michael wriggled at the loss of Ashton’s fingers, but took comfort in the fact that Ashton was already tearing the condom packet open. 

Michael watched in awe-tinged anticipation as Ashton gave himself a couple of loose tugs once he had the condom on, before closing in on his lover once more, making sure Michael was laid comfortably on the pillows as he positioned himself over him. Michael clung to Ashton’s shoulders as he lined himself up, just resting the tip on Michael’s slick hole for a moment.

Ashton’s hazel eyes bore down into Michael’s green ones with a soft fire as he raised one hand to brush Michael’s fringe out of his flushed face. Michael let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding as Ashton pushed in - slowly, but all the way.. He felt like he was sinking and floating simultaneously, and wrapped his arms around Ashton’s neck to anchor himself here, with him, in this moment. 

Ashton pressed his face deep into Michael’s neck, kissing and sucking his way up towards Michael’s ear. “You good?” He murmured, shifting his hips a miniscule amount. “Yeah,” Michael breathed, “S’good, please…”.

With a final nip to Michael’s neck, Ashton pulled back slightly and began to move his hips properly, his cock sliding halfway out each time as he began to build a steady rhythm for them. Michael felt that perhaps in their sexual relationship so far, he was earning himself the reputation of a bit of a Pillow Princess, and so he began to move his own hips to meet Ashton’s building thrusts. Ashton groaned, long and loud, at the heightened sensations Michael’s movements brought, and they began to work together towards their goal. 

Suddenly, Ashton’s mouth was crowding his, his tongue sliding into his mouth in a glorious kiss that Michael never wanted to end. He couldn’t tell if it had been 10 minutes or 10 hours when he felt that familiar feeling begin to bubble in the lower stomach. Ashton had begun to up the pace of his thrusts, his hips occasionally stuttering as groans rumbled low in his throat, so Michael knew they were on the same page. 

“Ash,” He murmured in the millisecond between kisses. “Touch me, please, I’m getting so-” Michael broke off into a moan as Ashton was already wrapping a firm hand around his neglected cock, stroking it with determination and flicking his thumb over Michael’s dripping head. “You close, baby?” He murmured, eyes drifting over Michael’s face and the arousal present there. Michael was starting to writhe slightly and his head was flopping to the side on the pillow, but Ashton wanted his attention. With his free hand, he took Michael’s chin and turned his head to meet Ashton’s stare. The moment Michael was forced to meet his strong, heated gaze, his hazel eyes boring down on him with such intensity, Michael felt the kick of heat and it was all over. He cried out Ashton’s name and let out a series of curses and moans as he came, hard and hot over Ashton’s hand and their sweaty stomachs in equal measure.

Michael hadn’t finished himself before he felt Ashton taken by surprise, as well; his hips shooting forward to fill him to the hilt for the last time as he spilt into the condom, releasing Michael’s chin to brace himself through his orgasm on the pillows. “Michael, fuck!”

Michael regained enough control to watch Ashton’s face through hooded eyes as he came, moaning and unrestrained as he finished. He thought he looked heavenly. 

As they both fought to catch their breath, Ashton pulled out gingerly, releasing Michael from his grip as he moved away to remove and dispose of the condom. Michael wriggled in place, trying to get comfortable to recover from what he hoped would be the first of many. Ashton came back from the bin in the corner and flopped back down, alongside Michael now, lifting his arm to allow Michael to snuggle in under it when he wrapped it around him. “So…” He said, sounding casual as you like. “About the whole platonic, friendly, roommate thing…”

masterlist for the 5sos ficwriters collab  • my masterlist

[gin-and-luce]

You killed our dog! Adriana of The Sopranos gave me strength to navigate life after a breakup during a global pandemic lockdown

I’m going through a breakup. It’s come at the worst time but also the best time. He ended things with me (more on that later) after three years in the most Beta-Male way...but this is what happens when your type can be boiled down to softboi. I can’t see my friends in the conventional way, so I made some new ones on screen to help me navigate the end during quarantine.

Over ten weeks ago I started watching The Sopranos. It doesn’t need justifying, everyone knows it’s the best television series of all time, but I’d never seen it, and I knew a global pandemic induced lockdown would provide optimum viewing circumstances. My favourite thing to do is completely throw myself into the female narrative and experience I’m watching on screen. I prefer a long deep drama over a film. I like being able to see my girls every night. 

People have said to me before “you should start a blog”, but I could never escape the feeling that doing so is massively narcissistic because it *is*, unless you have something actually relevant to write about. Alternatively, the image of Gretchen Weiners leaning in and going “you let it out honey, put it in the book” floats across my conscience, and everything embarrassing that I’ve ever done, plays in a montage in my mind. 

Who gives a fuck what I have to say about anything…….. especially about a cultural phenomena that is quite literally regarded as the best TV show of all time?

I’d been wanting to write this after I watched Long Term Parking. I lay in the dark for 45 minutes after the episode ended. I’d never felt like that watching a television show or film before. My throat had seized up but I didn’t cry, even though I felt like it. I knew it was coming from the moment Adriana met the agent. I wasn’t surprised, but I was heartbroken and absolutely fuming. I still am. 

I’m not angry with Christopher, Tony, or Silvio, but just the general unbalance I’ve felt when I’m in a relationship. The loss of self, relationships being a series of compromises. From what I have found from my own experiences and my girlfriends’, women are just much more willing to compromise, but don’t consider it to be a compromise. Men can only take into consideration their own reality, an evolutionary selfishness that just doesn’t translate. 

Just as lockdown began I texted my boyfriend to say I loved him and I missed him. He responded with “Can’t say I feel the same”. Nearly 3 years were over just like that. We had the obligatory phone call, where I was hysterical and he was smarmy and smug. Yet when it was over, I felt nothing. It’s allllll a big nothing.

My personal Gospel is Sex and The City (shout out to HBO!). This was my Berger moment. He essentially scribbled “I’m sorry, I can’t. Don’t hate me” on a post-it. The irony of the whole thing is that when we watched it together, he himself said he was most like Berger. Thinking about it makes me wince.

My life opened up in front of me, I was exposed to his weakness regarding the situation in full when his sister-in-law messaged me on Instagram a few days ago. He hadn’t told his family, nor had he told his flatmates (another shout out to my sleuths at the back, you know who you are!). 

The Sopranos is a show about life. The Mafia structure provides a vehicle for us to question morality and mortality. You take what you get from it. When I watch it again at a different stage of my life, I will get something else out of it. 

For me now, while I stew in my own emotion during quarantine, Adriana represents emotional labour and the expectation for women to behave in a certain way in relationships. 

At first when my ex’s family members were messaging me, I was confused. It is frankly humiliating to smile as if everything is normal, so as to protect someone that in the end would not do the same for me. I know he wouldn’t do the same because there was just no courtesy in what happened weeks ago. I am trying to move on but things like this stunt your personal growth.

The struggle with emotional labour hones a guilt that someday I’ll regret giving my early 20s to something that didn’t work out. I felt like I was on borrowed time.

These are obviously my own insecurities spurred on by the fact that I’ve read enough “10 things I wish I knew in my 20s” blogs to know that these are my selfish years. Still, it is ultimately devastating to see the last 3 years of your life conclude via a text that displays a failure to realise that there is no real clean cut for a long-term relationship. 

I respect him for the blunt statement because it means I get to reference the Berger SATC breakup and say “casually cruel in the name of being honest” (Taylor Swift, 2012) a LOT, which softens the pity in the social scenarios that I invent in my head in the shower.

When Tony calls Adriana to tell her Christopher has tried to kill himself, that was like my final phone call too. This is the end. Her youthfulness was why I related to her most in the show, but at the same time having nothing to lose made her easily expendable. Youth makes you put 100% into something knowing it is a gamble. 

I’m not comparing my ‘borrowed time’ to Adriana because she ends up dead, but there was a disregard for her life that was so harrowing because she did nothing but try and do the right thing. I watched Adriana put Christopher first willingly for 5 series. He supported her music management dreams but ultimately ended up making it all about him. He gave her the Crazy Horse but this ultimately was just another mob hangout. He sat on her dog, he continued to use heroin, shag other people, and so on.

“You could start writing again,” she tells him in her last episode, to which he responds  “I could do my memoirs, finally,”. Here is Adriana still!! STILL!! catering to Christopher’s ego to give herself some confidence. Very me.

All the way through she was just too good for him. Her ties to the Famiglia aren’t as tight as Carmela and Co. No children, still young, there’s chance for Adriana to get out if she wanted to. Of course this makes her prime FBl bait, but shows she sticks by Christopher through everything purely out of love. In the end she dies on her knees, subservient, with Heart’s Barracuda the last song she hears. I know Adriana had to go. That’s the way it is in the Famiglia because Christopher took an oath. But in a way she also had the carpet ripped from underneath her, just like me. 

There are lots of men writing on the internet about how Adriana is greedy and hypocritical. I just don’t understand where this reading is coming from other than obvious misogyny. I’ve read others that say if she was really that strong she would have simply left the relationship years ago. I believe that she believed things would improve for both of them, and that most people are just slut shaming her for her past. 

Still, Drea DeMatteo won a Best Supporting Actress Emmy for the episode. Fuckin’ A. 

I rooted for the woman. Before I was made redundant while working from home, I would spend half my life at my desk willing it to be 5:30pm, so I could slither back to the settee and spend the other half of my life in New Jersey. I’d phone my mum to discuss the episodes. She loves the show too, it’s always been a favourite in my household. We’d talk about the women like they were our friends and how we relate to them. The Sopranos is like a big mirror urging you to question everything. The answer to life is simply what are ya gonna do? 

Men love making things black and white so it is easier for them, when really women are in the background sorting out the shades of grey. 

Don’t get me wrong, Adriana’s significance is massive, albeit more so because of her death. You watch Christopher and Tony’s relationship start to crumble afterwards. It's shattering to see the disregard for Christopher’s sobriety and how despite his loyalty, he still sees him as a liability and weak. 

On the other hand, for Adriana’s sake, I am still enraged that he couldn’t see the bigger picture at the time. She is collateral damage in his path to finding his precious arc - “Wives, girlfriends, they can complicate life in a major way” Tony expresses to Jennifer as he runs from his own guilt. 

Christopher is desperate for Tony’s approval but is more than happy to use his blood connection as a protective leeway whenever he steps out of line. Again the irony is that he comes to tell Tony about Adriana first, just as the old Famiglia values say he should, but there is no real personal reward for doing so despite the personal sacrifice. 

I think Christopher regretted it in the end, and rightly so. When he is faced with his potential alternate life at the gas station, we assume that this was what made him go to Tony. It’s a family with loads of kids. Adriana probably can’t even have kids??? What kind of male logic?!  #justiceforadriana

I can’t help but feel for him when JT screams “Chris, you’re in the MAFIA!”. It’s the same kind of reality check that Chief Cubitoso gives Adriana, it’s an ultimatum and it’s the realisation that they are trapped in this life. Just ask Gene.

Carmela knew. I read her dreams as a testament to a woman’s intuition. She knows her friend isn’t what everyone is describing, she knows Adriana wouldn’t just disappear. She is all too aware of the emotional labour Mob women carry. When she sees Adriana with Cosette on the banks of the Seine, it is as sad as it is when we dream about people who have died. 

There is a scene in an early episode where Carmela says “Don’t we all?” in response to Meadow squealing “She’s MARRYING a BABY?” at a painting of The Marriage of Saint Catherine. I thought about this again when Christopher dies. Carmela passes her instinct off as hysteria, she isn’t to know. “So quick to blame, what is the attraction in that?” she cries during the aftermath of the car crash. There is a critique in her own femininity here that just makes you want to shout “NO CARM!!!!!!!”. As she believes she mothers Tony, there is the double-edged sword whereby he protects her through keeping her in the dark. “Heaven only ever sees my love making a fool of me” sings Emmylou Harris at the start of season 5. Carm’s power is taken away but she doesn’t even know. 

Carmela dedicates her life to being a mother but it’s not enough to save Meadow from her surname. We get some sense that AJ ‘Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit’ Soprano might be on a new path when he feels like the burning of his car among the autumn leaves of death was cathartic. As a man, he just has more freedom anyway. 

Miss Meadow gained her independence by getting her driving license, but in the end we see that she is still held back in the final scene by her inability to parallel park. She slots right in, eventually. As she does, she slots into the Soprano cycle after years of doing the most to get out and pave her own way. After every breakup with someone without links to the Famiglia, no scrubs, she returns and dates someone closer to home. Her career path is left tenuous to us, it would be all too easy for her to become a kept woman, which feels like it is the only real option should she settle down into the lifestyle with Patrick Parisi. It isn’t what she envisioned for herself, so part of me wants to hope that her story ends up a little bit more like Elle Woods. Legally Italian. 

I probably wouldn’t even have remembered her saying anything about parallel parking if I wasn’t terrible at parallel parking myself. It’s the pepperings of these subtle callbacks that make the show so beautiful. As the guitar solo plays on during the frustration, you’re invited to reminisce over Meadow’s journey. I fully wept watching her struggle to get the damn car parked because I’m trying to get my car parked too. Don’t stop believing, Meadow. 

I admire all the women in The Sopranos. The show is feminist, and that is a hill I am prepared to die on. It’s definitely up for debate as it is obviously littered with gratuitous nudity and women are commoditised. We have to allow this for cultural context for the show, but real life is basically exactly the same too? 

I read a post on Reddit where a dude is asking whether he should watch the show with his girlfriend. He types ‘“It’s a masterpiece of film but she probably wouldn’t get into it as I am”, and you don’t have to look much further to find more comments about how women and their puny minds just won’t get it. It’s an odd perspective to take given that Tony’s psychiatrist is a woman, but of course women could never grasp something so complex. It’s bullshit if you ask me, the female narrative prevails throughout all scenarios. 

The Pine Barrens seems to be everyone’s favourite episode. It’s not my favourite but there are two major elements that resonated with me. The first is Meadow looking down at the three letter words Jackie Aprile Jr had placed on the Scrabble board, and the second is when Gloria says to Tony:

“What you said was that you didn’t wanna piss me off..which implies that you’d have to deal with me, which is more about sparing YOU than my fucking feelings”. Don’t need to elaborate on that. Rest in power, Gloria. Legend.

Of course I could write pages and pages of hot feminist takes on all of the women - Jennifer, Janice, Livia, Angie, Svetlana, Charmaine. Lord knows I could probably write a book on Tracee.“ 20 years old, this girl”, I bashed Living on a Thin Line by The Kinks for about a week after that episode. It is the male gaze of the show made me love the women more. Carmela is my mother and I’ll probably name my first born Meadow. 

Carmela is the powerhouse and backbone of The Soprano household even though Tony provides. She represents stability, emotional labour, and putting on a brave face regardless. In some ways, it is as if Carmela represents the human emotion side and the fragility of organised crime. She is secure, but not enough, and her lack of ability to stand on her own two feet plagues her conscience through time. She is totally complicit, but must be to ensure her future with Tony as he pays anything to roll the dice just one more time. At the end of Long Term Parking, she and Tony stand looking at where she will build her spec-house. The forest looks the same as where we lost Ade, it’s a grim reflection that Carmela wouldn’t have this life if it wasn’t for the quick disposal of those like Adriana.   

Yeah okay, what the hell is a show with a feminist underpinning trying to say about wider society about a woman who exercises her beauty, loyalty and ambition?? Is it that she is not to be trusted?? Adriana’s a rat, but before this she is already deemed “damaged goods” anyway. She dresses provocatively, but that’s because she just looks MINT always. You would dress like THAT if you looked like THAT. When you Google her, ‘Adriana Sopranos Tennis’ comes up. I roll my eyes. Fucking men, eh? To take it down to a basic Sixth-Form-Poet reading, Adriana is Curley’s Wife and Daisy Buchanan all in one. She loves a red manicure too, and it might have worked out better for her if she had played the complicit beautiful little fool. 

This isn’t ‘Why The Sopranos is good!’, but a love letter to Adriana and her strength, because there is basically little or no content written on the women of the show when I have Googled.  I needed there to be more things written about her that isn’t just “bitch had it coming” when in fact she is a martyr. 

When Adriana was on screen, there was my mate. I knew her, she wanted what I wanted, but she sacrificed so much of herself for others and it was heartbreaking to watch. She barely gets a look-in in early episodes, but when she does she is usually wearing something animal print, which automatically made her the number one character on my radar. I am choosing to believe the theory that she is the cat in the final episode too. 

Still, I have been struggling and questioning why an episode that aired 16 years ago, with no plot that links to my own circumstances, has had such a monumental impact on me. 

I saw a tweet that said “have we ever sat down and thought about why relationships only work if the guy is more invested than the girl or is that just something we accept” (@anugov1). Adriana invested more in Christopher, even in the end, than she ever did herself. 

As I navigate this transitional period in my life, I am Adriana driving in the vision we see when we think she is going to start her new chapter. We can’t leave the flat, I have no job. The Sopranos has provided the most cathartic escapism for me. As I enter into whatever new world follows this nightmare, I wanted my mate Adriana to find her new world too, turning the classic rock up to 11.

[glitterbootsharry]

chapter four.

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Harry jerked awake at the sound of Pink Floyd booming through his apartment. His arm was half-asleep due to Amelia laying on it after last night’s activities. Her curly brown hair stretches across his sheets and pillow as she soundly purrs in her sleep. He hadn’t meant for her to sleep over, but after letting his frustrations fly, Amelia was in no shape to leave.

Harry groaned as he slipped out from under Amelia. He rolled his bare shoulders and popped his neck, hoping the stiffness left him. He pulled his black briefs on and threw on his white float shirt he wore the day before. Opening the door, the drums of the band hit him with an abruptness as of the closed door was holding the water back from a sinking ship. He wipes sleep away from his red eyes before closing his bedroom door behind him.

“Daphne?” Harry’s voice cracks, hoarse under the spell of sleep when he walks into an empty room with only him filling it. The tea kettle whistles startling him when Daphne opens his bedroom door. “It’s quite loud.”

“What?” Daphne yells, cupping her ear as she points to the ceiling speakers, “can’t hear you.”

“TURN THE FUCKING SONG OFF DAPHNE. IT’S TOO LOUD,” Harry screams as Daphne lowers the volume causing Harry to become self-aware of how loud he was. “Sorry.”

“Should be. After hearing you all night, I figured I’d return the favor,” Daphne pours the hot water into her tea cup before she struts back to her room to get ready for the day.

“Wait, you were listening?” Harry’s face furrows as his face becomes hot. How dare she listen to him?

“Couldn’t help it. Wanted to see if you were a good shag as you said you are,” Daphne calls back, laughing. “Smashed it ‘arry!”

“Harry?” Amelia pulls the sheet around her body tighter as she stands in the doorway. “Is everything alright?”

“Fantastic,” Harry smiles when turning to his date. “it’s bloody fantastic.” His head was spinning with a million thoughts on why Daphne would do such a thing and how he could repay her with such niceties.

☕︎︎

Saturday night called for hangouts, rather Eliza came over and Harry’s friends did too. Daphne had seen the chemistry between her friend and Harry’s shaggy haired friend named Mitch. It only took a couple of drinks before they would sneak behind closed doors.

“Where’s Mitch?” Harry asks, sipping on a mixed drink. “I swore he was just here.”

“Dunno,” Daphne’s brown eyes sparkle with mischief as she rocks on her heels. “Cat’s got me tongue.”

“That’s a first.”

Harry dodges another decorative pillow, laughing. “Liza and him... we’re making bedroom eyes, and I being the good friend that I am sent them on their merry way in hopes of them building a lasting relationship for years to come.”

“Mhm, and you did this from the kindness of your heart?”

“Of course. I’m not an animal,” Daphne laughs, leaning into Harry’s shoulder. Her head was spinning and her body felt like lead. She swore she saw Harry lick his lips when she leaned in, but that must have been her imagination. “Where’s what her face? Didn’t scare her off, did I?”

Daphne thinks back to her first interaction with Amelia.

“He’s got massive back acne. Terrible. Tell him every day to go get checked out and he won’t. And he’s got this smell to him that lingers and he says he’s got it under control, but you can’t cover up the rotten egg smell if I do say so myself. Anyways where did you say you worked at?” Daphne smiled sweetly as she leaned over the island counter trying to keep the awkward silence to a minimum as Harry finished getting ready.

“I-I didn’t? Um, I work at a law firm in Sussex. Known Harry for a few months now, and he...” Daphne was nodding as Amelia explained her relationship with Harry. They met just last year at a Christmas party and had been talking ever since. “When he said he had gotten a mate to go halves on, I didn’t expect a...”

“Girl? Woman? Female?”

“Yes...” Amelia blushes.

“Which is why you threw your heel at me when I barged in asking if you all wanted tea. I get it,” Daphne rubbed the sore spot that the stiletto had hit her. “Don’t be jealous. I’m not into Harry.”

“He said you just broke up with your boyfriend of two years. I know a guy...”

“No thanks, I think I’ll stick to warding off Harry’s massive ego for right now.”

“Yeah...” Amelia was short with her. Daphne half believed the lie she told the girl standing in front of her. Of course, she was into Harry, but she was into him like that. That would preposterous. 

“Also Harry was a thing for middle aged men porn.”

☕︎︎

“You most definitely ran her off,” Harry laughed as he raked his fingers through his hair. He was quite confused when Amelia asked about his back acne and porn obsession when walking her down to her car. “She ran so far that I’m seeing her again tomorrow.”

“Oh,” was all Daphne could say. “After they leave, want to watch a movie?”

Harry thinks it over for a moment before asking, “Are we in a rom com mood or horror?”

“No rom com’s. I don’t want to cry.”

“Horror it is. Are you going to sleep in my room, again?” Harry cocks a brow as he side eyes his roommate. His smirk is growing as Daphne rolls her eyes.

“If I so like. I hate sleeping alone after watching scary movies. Gives me the heebie geebies,” Daphne’s eyes grow wide as she takes a sip of her drink. “‘S a problem?”

Harry runs the nape of his neck. Of Daphne sleeps in his room that would mean he would have two girls in his bed in less than twenty four hours. Thank God Amelia left. “Not at all. As long as you don’t hog the covers like last time.”

Mitch and Eliza finally emerged from their private party and left together. Soon after, the numbers dwindled down to just the flatmates as they curled up against one another watching The Exorcist in the dark. Daphne was wrapped up in her queen size blanket as she curled her arms around Harry’s, her head leaning on his shoulder. It wasn’t until the end credits rolled that either of them moved.

Daphne straightened herself up and watched as Harry yawned, stretching, and got up to go to his bedroom. He had changed into his boxers when he sighed and called for Daphne. “Come on, you big baby.”

Daphne quickly walked into Harry’s room and lunged for the bed. Her heart was racing from the slightest crack in the floorboards. “I forgot my blanket.”

Harry sighs, throwing the covers off him, and leaves to grab the blue fuzzy blanket. He walks into the kitchen, draping the enormous blanket over his shoulders, to make Daphne a cup of tea. He waits for the kettle to whistle all the while hearing for Daphne to call out to him.

“Harry? Is that you?” Daphne’s voice sounds worried, as if the characters in the movie were real and coming to get them.

“Bringing you some tea, darling,” He puts two lumps of sugar with a splash of milk in the dark liquid, like she likes before headed to the bedroom.

“You look like an idiot,” Daphne sits up, thanking God above that Harry left the nightstand lamp on. The shadows of night would loom over her and prey on her soul.

“I quite like this blanket. It fits me,” Harry hands Daphne the white cup. “Don’t know if I want to give it back.”

“It’s made for a queen, which you are not,” Daphne sips the drink, the hot liquid running down her throat soothes her anxiety and she relieves herself of being tense.

“Then I exceed the capacity.”

“Not bloody likely,” Daphne smiles as Harry spreads the blanket across Daphne’s body. He climbs into bed, shifting his weight as he gets comfortable before slipping his body under the clean sheets.

“You know,” Harry says trying to get Daphne’s mind from running with the make believe movie. “I never asked where you’re from.”

“Manchester.” Daphne eyes the coat on the doorknob. Is that really a coat or...something else?

“What was it like?” Harry takes Daphne’s dee hand and holds it in his, his thumb running circles on her skin.

“Mum and dad always worked so it was just me and my sister, Josie, for a while. She was great. You would have loved her.” Daphne prolongs her sip, even though the hot tea is burning her mouth. The one conversation beside talking about the movie that she wants to avoid is talking about her sister.

“Is she as chatty as you?” Harry smiles. Daphne’s hair falls in her face when she sighs looking down into her lap. Tears were brimming over her eyes- sniffling, she tries everything to not weep in front of Harry, but the memories are fresh, too raw, to not feel something.

“She was...until she died,” Tears stain her face as she silently sobs. Harry shifts closer to her. He forces Daphne to set down the mug, not caring anything about a bloody saucer on the wood. They both slid down into the bed and Harry holds Daphne until she drifts off into sleep, still clutching Harry’s hand.

####

taglist: @starboyhaz

[king-finnigan]

Looking Up For Heaven - Oneshot

Summary: The first time you touch your soulmate, you remember things - the other life, people call it. Jaskier's heard the stories of this other life: witches, wizards, magic, medieval but not quite medieval. His flatmate, Yennefer, has already met her soulmate, and remembers the other life, but Jaskier is still not sold on the idea, and would rather not be a part of this bullshit.

Pairing/Warnings: Geralt x Jaskier, Modern AU, Soulmate AU

A/n: Look this is either the most creative fic I’ve ever written, or just one big pile of flaming garbage, that’s honestly up to you to decide. Title and idea from Glory by Bastille (and my fav song ever!). As always, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy, and don’t hesitate to leave a like and a comment if you feel like it!

You can also read this on AO3! M A S T E R L I S T

Jaskier sighs as he stares at his reflection the mirror, hand threading through his hair. It’s slightly greasy and he remembers he forgot to take a shower today. Again. For the third day in a row. Goddammit.

He sighs again, looking at his flatmate in the reflection of the mirror, as she pulls her raven curls up into a ponytail. “Do I really have to go, Yen?” He ignores how whiny he sounds, instead leaning on the wash basin with his forearms, chin resting on them as he pouts at Yennefer’s reflection.

She scoffs from where she’s sitting on the edge of the once-white bath, tying her ponytail with one of her girlfriend’s scrunchies, the bright yellow a stark contrast with the rest of her exclusively black outfit. “Yes, you have to go, Julian. You promised a week ago that you would, and Triss will be really upset if you don’t show up.”

She gets up from the side of the tub, taking the half step towards the wash basin, pushing him aside. “Scoot, idiot.” She takes her eyeliner from the open cabinet next to the mirror, uncapping it, leaning her elbow next to the sink as she slowly, deliberately, traces a line over her eyelid. “I swear to god, if you make her sad, I will throw all your food in the trash and bend the needle of your record player.”

He frowns, leaning back against the edge of the sink, arms crossed in front of him. “Fine, whatever, I’ll go, then. Just don’t break my record player. It took me five weekends at bloody Starbucks to afford it.” He suppresses a shudder at the memory of working customer service.

Yennefer finishes her eyeliner, grabbing her mascara from the cabinet. He takes the eyeliner from where it’s lying on the sink, twirling it in his hands, as she rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t even know why you want a record player so badly, but okay. You know you can just stream music, right?”

He scoffs. “Oh, please, everyone knows vinyl sounds better than digital.”

She side-eyes him, eyes widening for a bit as she looks at her reflection again. “Okay, grandpa, if you say so.”

He sighs again, still twirling the eyeliner in his hands, as she finishes her mascara, pulling her ponytail taut again – even though it’s not sagging in the slightest. She finishes her makeup with a dark lipstick, before casting a last wink at her reflection and turning her back to the mirror, leaning against the sink, next to him. “Alright, what is it, Julian? We’ve been living together long enough for me to recognize an ‘I’m so sad please ask me if I’m okay’-sigh when I hear one.”

He side-eyes her for a moment, but she simply stares at him, dark-painted lips pursed, violet eyes stubborn, waiting for him to speak. After a few moments he sighs again, relenting under her unforgiving gaze. “Fine, I really don’t feel like going to this party.” He looks at her, cutting her off before she can scold him again: “Yes, I know Triss would be upset if I didn’t show up, but, like, I don’t know anyone there, and you know I hate crowds.”

She rolls her eyes. “Here’s an idea: maybe if you made some fucking friends for once, you’d actually know someone at this party. You really need to go out more, you can’t just sit in the flat all day, pretending to study.”

He gapes at her. “I do study, like, all the time! Hell, I have two essays due next week that I need a lot of time for. And if I didn’t go to the party, I’d actually be able to finish them in time.”

She scoffs, shaking her head slightly as she looks at the once-blue tiles of the wall opposite them. “Yeah, sure. I know you procrastinate, Julian. A lot. You’re just using these essays as an excuse to stay at home. We’re both well aware you wouldn’t do shit.”

He sighs, throwing his head back a bit. “Okay, fine, maybe I would spend all evening bingeing Netflix. Still, that’s a hell of a lot more fun than standing in the corner of some bar all evening. I love Triss, I really do, but I’m not willing to spend all those hours bored out of my mind and getting panic attacks when there’s too many people.”

She sighs, bumping into his shoulder slightly. “I know, alright? I know you can’t really talk to people and that crowds make you anxious, and I know that this evening is probably going to be a waste of time for you, but you promised, okay? You promised Triss that you would be there and she’s really looking forward to seeing you again. She’s going to be really disappointed if you don’t show up.” Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. “And so am I. You really need to go out more, Julian, you can’t spend the rest of your life cooped up in this apartment. You’re never going to make other friends or meet your soulmate if you sit inside all day.”

He scoffs at his feet when she mentions soulmates, but she simply ducks her head to meet his eyes. “Please, Julian, just go to this one party. If not for yourself or Triss, then for me.”

He sighs again, throwing his head back, looking at the mouldy ceiling. “Fine, fine, I’ll go. If only to stop you nagging.”

She laughs. “Oh, please, I’m never going to stop nagging. Speaking of,” she looks at him, one perfect eyebrow arched up, “you seriously need a change of clothes before we leave.”

He frowns at her. “As opposed to changing my clothes after we leave?” He laughs as she smacks him in the back of his head.

“You know what I meant, idiot. Seriously, at least wear some jeans, you look like you live in your mum’s basement and play Fortnite all day.” She gestures at his sweatpants, and he rolls his eyes. “And at least wear, like, a hoodie. It’s cold outside and that thin-ass shirt won’t be enough to keep you warm.”

He rolls his eyes, but pushes away from the sink anyway, calling over his shoulder as he walks to his bedroom. “Fine, alright! Jeez, mum. What’s next? You’ll tell me I have to comb my hair and part it in the middle so I can bedazzle my soulmate with my charming good looks?”

He rummages through his closet, pulling out the least crumpled jeans out from the pile of unfolded clothes, as he hears Yennefer letting herself fall on his unmade bed. “Actually, yes. I think you’d look dashing with a middle part and you’d be sure to instantly woo your soulmate once you meet them.”

He snorts as he pulls off his sweatpants, wiggling into the slightly too skinny jeans. “I don’t think I’m going to meet my soulmate, like, ever.” He struggles with the button a bit, sucking in his stomach. “Don’t think I want to.”

Yennefer looks at him, frowning a bit. “Why not? It’s such great fun, honestly. Like, you get all these memories of this cool-ass other life, and you get an added bonus of, you know, having a soulmate. Like, me and Triss didn’t even have to date, I immediately got this amazing girlfriend. It’s a win-win, my dude.”

He scoffs, rummaging through the pile of clothes at the bottom of his wardrobe again, pulling out a light blue hoodie with great difficulty. “Okay, first of all, you got lucky with Triss. There are a ton of people who end up hating their soulmate.” She shrugs, snorting as he struggles to pull the hoodie over his head. “Secondly,” he continues, when he has finally managed to put it on, “why would I want to know about the other life? Huh?”

Yennefer scoffs, as he sits on his desk chair, pulling on his Vans. “Because it’s cool as fuck. Did you know I was a witch in the other life? So was Triss, by the way.” She sighs, looking at her phone. “Though, I do miss being able to portal everywhere, that was really tight.”

He pulls his leg up, tying his shoelaces. “See? I don’t want to miss something I’ll never be able to get back. Also, your other life was cool, sure, but what if mine sucks, huh? What then? What if I died, like, the most stupid death humanly possible? And that’s another thing,” he continues to rant, as he ties the laces of his other shoe, “why would I want to remember how I died? That sounds like shit. Like, you remember how you died in the other life, that’s not a fun memory, right?”

Yennefer shrugs. “I mean, I got stabbed and fell off a tower in the middle of a battle, that’s all I remember. Didn’t hurt that much, really. And I’m sure you were an alright person in the other life. Probably royalty, since you’re so unbelievably stuck-up.”

She laughs as he flips her off. “Piss off, I’m serious. I don’t want to know about the other life. People keep saying you’ll really find your true self when you first touch your soulmate and remember, and they’re all like ‘ooh, you don’t know real happiness until you experience the glory of meeting your soulmate’ but that just all sounds like such bullshit. What’s wrong with this life? Why does everyone say it’s not enough? It’s enough for me so far.”

He sighs, gritting his teeth as he stops his rant, cheeks hot with annoyance. Yennefer simply stares at him from where she’s still lying on his bed, one eyebrow pulled up. It’s quiet for a few moments, until she speaks: “Are you done? Cause it’s nine thirty and we should leave right about now if we want to be fashionably late and not just plain late.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes, grabbing his phone from his desk. “Yeah, let’s go.”

҉    ҉    ҉

“Oh my god, Julian, you made it!” Triss’ voice is loud and clear above the noise of the people at the bar, as she nearly skips her way over to him and Yennefer, pulling him into a tight hug. He’s barely able to return it before she holds him at an arm’s length, beaming at him. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Hello, I’m here too,” Yennefer says next to him, and Triss laughs as she pulls her girlfriend into a short kiss.

“Oh, please, Yen, you’re so needy.” The two of them smile at each other and Jaskier clears his throat, kind of uncomfortable. He turns to the bar right next to them, ordering a tequila, only half paying attention to Triss and Yennefer’s conversation.

“So,” Yennefer asks, “who’s here?”

Triss looks around, pointing to different people as she names them. “Mostly friends from uni,” she waves at a group of people in one of the corners, “not a lot of people. Only Sabrina, Fringilla, and Anica. Istredd is still on his way, though.”

She turns her head left and right, stretching her neck a bit to see over the crowd of regular pub-goers. “I invited Geralt as well, but I haven’t seen him yet.” She shrugs. “He might not even show up, though, he said he’s not a big fan of parties.”

Jaskier takes the tequila from the barman, paying before he turns, sipping his drink as he leans his back against the bar. He sees Yennefer shoot him an uncomfortable look, something he can’t quite place, before she turns back to Triss. “Uh… who’s this Geralt-guy?” She glances back at him again for a second. “Haven’t heard of him.”

Triss blinks, visibly confused for a second, before some sort of realization dawns in her eyes. “Uh… oh, yeah! I uh… met him yesterday in the uni cafeteria. He was sitting all by himself and he looked kinda lonely so I joined him.”

Jaskier looks up, snorting a bit. “You sat with a total stranger and then invited him to your birthday party because he looked lonely?”

Triss blinks again, bright smile faltering a bit. “Uh… yeah, I guess I did. Anyways, he’s a really nice guy, I think you should really meet him, Julian. You know, give him a chance?”

He frowns. “What do you mean ‘give him a chance’?”

Yennefer clears her throat, she and her girlfriend sharing another strange look Jaskier doesn’t really understand. “At being a friend. You seriously need to make some friends, remember? Also, he doesn’t know anyone else at the party, either, so you two can be socially awkward together.”

Jaskier frowns again. “How do you know he’s socially awkward? I thought you never met him.”

She shrugs. “Well, he must be if he was sitting on his own.” Jaskier nods, not entirely convinced there isn’t something else going on as well, but he decides against asking about it. Maybe later, he thinks, as he sips his drink, looking at his phone a bit.

It’s rowdy and hot in the pub, and he can already feel a panic attack starting to build, as his eyes dart around, lungs constricting in his chest a bit. Yennefer and Triss have made their way over to their friends, leaving him on his own at the bar. He downs his tequila, placing the glass on the countertop behind him.

He’s contemplating making a bee-line to the side door and slipping away into the night – maybe getting a taxi – when someone stands next to him, ordering a beer from the barman. Jaskier looks to his right, eyes first meeting a black leather jacket, seeing long, white hair as he looks up a bit. He directs his gaze to his phone as quickly as possible, hoping the guy next to him won’t notice how much he seems to be blushing because fuck, this guy is hot.

He chances another look up, startling when he meets amber eyes. He swallows thickly, as the guy looks away again, taking the beer from the barman and tipping generously – Jaskier notices. He expects the guy to walk away, and part of him is already dreading never seeing those amber eyes again.

The guy doesn’t, though. He turns around, leaning against the bar, next to Jaskier, sipping his beer as he looks over the crowded room. Jaskier looks at his feet, fumbling with his phone a bit, unsure of what to say or to do.

He sighs in relief as he hears Triss’ voice, clear above the murmur of the crowd. “Oh my god, hi, Geralt!” She drags Yennefer behind her as they make their way over to Jaskier and the mysterious guy – apparently Geralt. She smiles brightly as she looks between the two of them. “So, I see you’ve already met Julian! This is my girlfriend Yennefer, by the way.” Yennefer gives a small smile and a weak wave from behind her soulmate. “Julian is her flat mate! You two really should get to know each other, I think you’d be great friends!”

Jaskier frowns at her, and he can see Geralt cocking his head in the corner of his eye. Triss smiles brightly, though, and looks behind her at Yennefer, who gives her girlfriend a reassuring nod. Reassuring her of what – Jaskier is not sure yet, but he narrows his eyes at his friend nonetheless.

“Oh! Look!” Triss says. “Istredd is here! And he brought some friends! Come on, Yen, we should go greet them.” She turns back to Jaskier and Geralt, giving them a final wave before disappearing in the crowd, leaving him alone with the guy. Great.

She was right though – Istredd did bring a ton of friends, and the bar feels a lot stuffier and rowdier than it did a few minutes ago. He considers leaving again, but doesn’t want to be impolite towards Geralt, so he stands there, leaning against the bar, heart racing, lungs constricting and oh fuck, he’s starting to have a panic attack.

His hands tremble as he fidgets with the hem of his pale blue hoodie, and he wishes he hadn’t worn it, even though it’s his favourite sweater. It’s too warm in the room, and he can feel sweat starting to form on his brow. He tries to keep his breathing even, but that only results in spots dancing across his vision from lack of oxygen, and his chest hiccupping with every other breath.

After a minute or so of silent suffering, he’s had enough. He throws a tight smile at Geralt, who looks at him weirdly, and mutters a “nice meeting you” before pushing through the crowd towards the side door, his shoulders bumping into several people on the way.

Once outside, he takes in deep, gulping breaths of night air, leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees. It’s blissfully quiet in the side alley, and he closes his eyes, waiting for the rush of blood in his ears to subside.

The door opens behind him, flooding him with light and noise before it’s closed again. He doesn’t look up, waiting for Yennefer to start her rant that he needs to practice conscious breathing when he feels a panic attack coming up, or Triss to ask him if he’s alright and if there’s anything she can do for him.

Instead, he hears a deep voice behind him. “Are you okay?” He stretches out again, looking behind him to see Geralt, amber eyes surprisingly concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just…” he shrugs, looking at his feet “had a bit of a panic attack.”

Geralt takes a tentative step towards him. “You wanna talk about it?”

Jaskier smiles, shaking his head slightly. He hadn’t taken Geralt for a talkative person, so the fact that the guy offered to talk about it means a lot to him, surprisingly. “No, it’s fine.” He shrugs again, hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “Just don’t like crowds.”

Geralt smiles a bit, and oh god, oh shit, oh fuck, he looks so hot when he smiles. “Yeah, same here. Not a big fan of them.” Jaskier looks around, the street in front of the bar deserted. He’s not sure what’s down the alley, but he might find a taxi there.

He looks back at Geralt, who’s shifting from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. “It was nice meeting you, Geralt.” He starts walking down the alley, hands still in the pocket of his hoodie. He hears footsteps behind him and half turns around, frowning as he sees the guy catching up with him.

“Where are you going?” Geralt is walking next to him now, and Jaskier takes half a step to the side in the small alley, making sure their shoulders don’t brush.

He cocks his head. “Why do you want to know?”

And he might definitely be mistaken but he could swear he sees Geralt blush in the dim light of the streetlamps behind them. “Just doesn’t seem very safe, walking into an alley on your own in the middle of the night.”

Jaskier smiles. “And it’s safer to walk into an alley in the middle of the night with a stranger?”

He can see Geralt chewing on his lip, frowning deeply. “I suppose not.” He stops walking, and Jaskier does, too, after a couple of steps, turning back to Geralt. “If you want me to leave, Julian, that’s okay, I’ll leave.”

Jaskier laughs a bit, shaking his head. “Nah, don’t worry.” He keeps walking, signaling with his head for Geralt to follow him again. “Come on, let’s keep moving, it’s too cold to stand still.”

Geralt falls in step next to him and Jaskier can’t help but smile. He looks to his side. “My name’s not Julian, by the way.” Geralt frowns at him, confused, and Jaskier shrugs. “It is, officially, but my parents changed their minds a few weeks after I was born, and named me Jaskier, but didn’t change the legal documents. Yennefer just calls me Julian to spite me, and Triss does it cause she thinks it’s more polite, and I don’t have the heart to tell her no.”

Geralt laughs, shaking his head slightly. “I only met her yesterday, but that sounds exactly like her.”

Jaskier cocks his head. “I am wondering, though, Geralt, why did you come to the party? Like you said, you only met Triss yesterday.”

Geralt shrugs, hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket. “She was very insistent. And, just like you, I didn’t have the heart to tell her no.”

Jaskier smiles, nodding a bit. “Fair enough.”

He side-steps around a garbage bag, before they reach the street behind the pub. It’s deserted. Well, fuck. So long, taxi. He looks around, the street stretching into the darkness on both sides. There’s a fenced off field in front of him, and he can see street lamps and cars passing by on a street on the other side of the field. He begins walking forward.

“Where are you going?” He hears Geralt call behind him.

He half turns around, pointing to the field with his thumb as he walks sideways. “Gonna hop the fence, go to that street over there and try and find a tax-“

His sentence is cut off abruptly as he trips over a small rock in the middle of the road, painfully hitting his head on the curb as he falls on his side. “Shit!”

He clutches his head as he sits up, but luckily there’s no blood on his hand, as he pulls it back. It is going to be a nasty bump, tomorrow, though. “Jaskier! You okay?” He looks up as Geralt half-jogs towards him across the street, looking both ways even though the neighborhood seems deserted.

He’s almost reached Jaskier, when he trips over his own feet, landing on his knees next to Jaskier. “Shit!”

Jaskier can’t help but laugh, clutching his stomach as he wheezes. God, just a pair of fucking idiots, lying in the middle of the street. He laughs harder when Geralt frowns at him, though the guy can’t help but laugh as well, as tears start to form in Jaskier’s eyes.

He gasps for air between fits of giggles, and leans back, lying on the asphalt, still clutching his stomach as he hiccups. He feels Geralt joining him, lying next to him in the middle of the street. “You okay, Jask?”

He finally quiets down and nods. He turns to Geralt. “You called me Jask.”

The guy shrugs, seemingly blushing again, though Jaskier tells himself it’s just a trick the streetlamps are playing on his eyes. “You don’t like it?”

Jaskier smiles, looking up at the sky. “No, no, I do like it. Just… no one’s ever called me that.”

Geralt shrugs again. They lie there in silence for a few moments, staring up at the night sky, the sound of cars in the distance.

“So, Geralt, what do you study?” He looks to his side again, admiring Geralt’s profile.

“Veterinary.”

Jaskier pushes himself up on one elbow, looking down on Geralt, who smiles softly. “Really? Didn’t take you for an animal lover, honestly.”

Geralt shrugs. “Most people don’t. I just have a soft spot for horses, I guess.”

Jaskier can’t help but smile at that. “Oh? Why horses, specifically?”

Amber eyes grow distant, as if Geralt’s suddenly transported into his own memories. “My dad’s got a horse farm, in the countryside. Taught me how to ride and take care of them at a young age.” He blinks, and suddenly he seems to be back in reality, as he looks at Jaskier. “What about you, though? What do you study?”

Jaskier leans back again, unable to look into Geralt’s eyes too long, for some reason. “English Lit.”

He hears Geralt chuckle next to him. “I wish I could say I didn’t take you for a book lover, but I’d be lying.”

Jaskier laughs a bit. “Alright, fair enough.”

He hears the quiet sound of a cap being unscrewed and looks to the side, seeing Geralt take a swig from a metal flask. “Wow, dude, you’ve come prepared.”

Geralt smiles, handing the flask to Jaskier. “What can I say? Pubs are expensive.” Jaskier laughs, feeling a slight burn in his throat as he takes a sip of whiskey – apparently Geralt’s a whiskey kind of guy. Horses and whiskey.

He laughs as he imagines Geralt, with a frown on his face, downing a bottle of Jack Daniels as he rides on a horse, wearing a cowboy outfit. He sits up as he chokes on the whiskey, coughing violently into his elbow. Geralt sits up next to him as well. “You okay?”

Jaskier gasps for air, coughing the last bit of whiskey from his airway, tears in the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, fine, just thought of something funny.” Geralt shoots him a questioning look and Jaskier shakes his head. “It’s not important.”

Geralt lays back down, taking the flask as Jaskier hands it to him, putting it back in the pocket of his leather jacket, folding his arms behind his head. “Well, watch out the next time you think about something unimportant, then. Don’t want you to laugh until you die.”

Jaskier smiles, laying back down on the pavement. “Honestly, can you think of any better way to choke?”

Geralt smiles as well. “Hmm.”

It’s quiet between them for a couple more moments, as they look at the night sky. The light pollution of the city makes it hard for him to see the stars, but he can make out some blinking lights in the dark abyss above. He points up. “Look, a plane.”

Geralt nods next to him, then points to the right of where Jaskier’s pointing. “Another one.”

Jaskier nods as well. “Very busy night for the plane business.”

And Geralt’s chuckle might be the most beautiful thing he’s heard in his whole life.

“So,” Geralt starts, and Jaskier looks at his profile again, noticing how soft the white hair looks and how much he wants to touch it, “do you do this often?” Geralt turns his head towards Jaskier, and oh god, those lips look so kissable.

He blinks. “Do what?”

Geralt smiles. “Lying in the middle of the road at one in the morning with strangers?”

Jaskier shakes his head. “No, I never do that. See, I know your name and you’ve watched me fall on my face, so we’re not really strangers anymore, are we?”

Geralt looks at the night sky again. “No, I suppose not.” He lets out a long deep breath, and Jaskier can see small clouds above his face in the cold air. “So,” he looks back at Jaskier, “what do you do in your spare time?”

Jaskier scoffs. “You mean besides watching Netflix and pretending to study?” Geralt laughs, and Jaskier can’t help but vow to make this guy laugh as many times as he possibly can, because he can’t imagine ever getting tired of the sound. He shrugs. “I don’t know, really. Lie in the middle of the road at one in the morning, and look up for heaven, I guess.”

Geralt frowns a bit. “What do you mean with looking up for heaven?”

Jaskier shrugs. “Well, people always say that when you find your soulmate you will find glory or some shit, but… I don’t know. It’s always sounded like an empty promise to me. Something that only happens if you find your soulmate, and… what are we supposed to do in the meantime? Wait?” He shakes his head, looking at the sky, watching as another plane passes overhead. “No, I don’t really like that. Life has meaning even if you don’t have a soulmate or if you haven’t found them yet. I can’t do anything with empty words for glory, so I’ll just be here, looking up for heaven, trying to find something else to strive towards.”

It’s quiet for another moment, and eventually he turns his head, looking at Geralt, amber eyes searching his face. Finally, he speaks: “You said ‘even if you don’t have a soulmate’. Everyone has one, though.”

Jaskier scoffs. “I don’t believe that. I mean, my parents were supposedly soulmates. They did the whole thing: touching each other for the first time, seeing the other life, falling in love, marrying, getting a kid. But then they ended up hating each other. So were they really soulmates, then? I don’t believe so.”

Geralt nods, turning his head towards the night sky. “I understand. I don’t know if my parents were soulmates, I never met them.”

Jaskier frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Geralt smiles and shrugs. “It’s okay. I’ve got my adoptive father. He never found his soulmate, though, but he seems at peace with it. I think you’d like him.”

Jaskier smiles as well. “I mean, he owns a horse farm, so I’m already sold.”

Geralt laughs again, and maybe Jaskier feels something flutter in the pit of his stomach, but he’s probably just hungry or something. He sees another plane pass by. “Kind of weird, isn’t it? That there’s a scientific explanation for everything in this world, except for the other life and the whole soulmate ordeal.”

Geralt nods. “Guess we really know nothing at all, when push comes to shove. We can only make the best of what we have, as long as we’re here, and maybe there’s something afterwards, who knows? Maybe another life, where soulmates will remember this one when they touch for the first time.”

Jaskier smirks, half turning his head to Geralt. “Now who’s looking up for heaven?”

Geralt scoffs, half turning towards Jaskier as well. “Not me. I’ll take my chances on the curb here with you, thank you very much.”

Jaskier notices little, dark brown flecks in Geralt’s amber eyes, and has to look away, a blush gracing his cheeks. In the distance a church bell chimes three times. Jaskier looks at his phone, suspicions confirmed: it’s three in the morning already. “Huh, it’s getting late.” He sighs, putting his phone back in the pocket of his hoodie. “I have class in the morning. I should probably get going.”

He makes no move to get up, though, and simply watches as another plane passes overhead. He hears that deep voice again, and feels a shiver run down his spine that has nothing to do with the cold. “What is it, Jask?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna go home yet, I guess.” He looks at Geralt. “I don’t know why, but it’s really easy to talk with you.”

Geralt smiles. “Same here.”

Jaskier looks up at the sky once more. “I just wanna stay here, in the middle of the road, with you, looking up for heaven together.”

Geralt chuckles, pushing himself to his feet, as Jaskier sits upright. Geralt extends his hand, smiling a bit. “Stop looking up for heaven, waiting to be buried.” Jaskier laughs, reaching out his hand to take Geralt’s.

Their skin touches, for the first time that evening, and his eyes grow wide as memories that aren’t quite his own flood him.

“Love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.” “I’m here to drink alone.”

“Respect doesn’t make history.”

“I need no one, and the last thing I want is someone needing me.” “And yet, here we are.”

“We could head to the coast, get away for a while.”

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”

He lets go of Geralt’s hand, falling back on the pavement as he is pulled back to here and now. He looks up, wide-eyed, shocked, and he can tell Geralt just experienced the same thing. Fuck.

The other life. A Witcher, a Bard. Soulmates.

He breathes out, shuddering breath leaving his lungs in fragments, forming small clouds in the cold night air. “Oh.”

Geralt simply stares at him, then at his hand, as if he can’t believe what just happened. Eventually, he nods, lowering himself back onto the pavement, next to Jaskier. “Oh,” he says as well.

Jaskier looks at his own hand, half expecting a mark, something to indicate something’s – everything’s changed, but his skin is the same as always. Really, he’s the same as always, it’s just the memories that are new.

He looks at Geralt, who’s still staring ahead, amber eyes wide. “What happened in the other life, Geralt? How did you-“ his voice catches in his throat as he imagines Geralt dying.

The guy – the Witcher looks at him, eyes still absent. He blinks, then clears his throat. “I uh… After… our fight, on the mountain, I went looking for Ciri, for my…” a sharp intake of breath “Child Surprise. Never found her. Got attacked by ghouls, died a day or so later. You?”

A memory presents itself to Jaskier, and he shudders, burying his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie. “Got robbed a few weeks after our fight. Got stabbed, bled out.”

Geralt frowns at him. “I know we only just met, really, and that we’re not who we were in the other life but… I do want to apologize for what I said on the mountain. I never meant any of it, and travelling with you for…” he frowns, swallowing thickly “twenty-two years, was an honour and a privilege. You deserved better.”

Jaskier smiles. “I did, and thank you, Geralt. It does mean a lot to me, even if it wasn’t really… me, but… other life me? I don’t know, this is so weird.”

Geralt laughs. “It is. I’m glad we’re here, now, though.”

Jaskier leans his shoulder against Geralt’s, something that feels so natural he doesn’t need to think twice about it. “So am I. And I’m glad we’re soulmates.” He frowns. “I’m glad we got a second chance, Geralt.”

Geralt smiles back, softly, fondness in his eyes. “So am I. I really messed up the first time. I want to do better in this life, if you’ll have me.”

Jaskier leans forward, resting his forehead against Geralt’s, the clouds of their breaths intertwining in the cold night air. “I’ll have you, Geralt of Rivia, if you’ll have me.”

Geralt sighs, softly. “Yes, of course I’ll have you, Jask. No question about it.”

Their eyes meet, and Jaskier can barely suppress a shiver that runs down his spine. He’s drowning in the molten gold of Geralt’s eyes, and can’t help but smile. “May I kiss you?”

Geralt leans forward, their noses brushing, hot breath fanning over Jaskier’s skin. “I fear I might die all over again if you don’t.”

Jaskier laughs. “God, Geralt, you’re so dramatic.” He leans forward further, softly pressing his lips against Geralt’s, and he feels a hand on the back of his neck pulling him closer, the kiss deepening.

After a few moments he pulls back, drawing in shaky breaths of cold night air as their foreheads rest against each other. He can’t help but smile as he takes in every little detail of Geralt’s face. The little freckle under his right eye, the small scar on his left eyebrow, the brown freckles in his amber eyes. He hopes he gets the chance to spend the rest of his life memorizing every single detail, every single imperfection that makes Geralt perfect.

Geralt smiles at him, frowning a bit as he sees Jaskier’s searching eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jaskier smiles, before pressing a chaste kiss to Geralt’s lips and he could never, ever tire of this. Not in this life, not in the next. “No reason, I’m just… looking up for heaven.”

[statement69420]

1.

The first time the man had come down to the archive, or at least the first time they saw him, was a couple weeks after Jon had become the head Archivist.

Tim hadn't paid much attention to the man. Not really interested in some person coming to give a statement. And he told Sasha so when she pointed out how odd the man looked.

It wasn't until she informed him that Jon was not expecting anyone to give a statement today. And he hadn't asked to give one on his way in. This made him take a closer look at the man.

He was a little taller than average height, wearing only black, his long hair was also, poorly dyed, black, thought that's not what Tim's eyes were drawn to.

The man's hands were covered in tattoos. All of them were of an eyeball. One on every knuckle.

Him and Sasha watched as the man walked over to Jon's office, raising his hand to knock. He couldn't take his eyes off of the man's hand. And it seemed like it was looking back at him.

He only had to stand at the door for a moment before Jon opened it for him.

Sasha and Tim watched as he walked into the office. And it didn't slip their notice that he didn't come out for a couple hours.

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

2.

Martin had been avoiding Jon since what had happened that morning. If he had known Jon was there he would have put pants on.

But he didn't know. So now he's stuck in a very awkward situation. Because he has to tell Jon what he found about one of the statements. It wasn't a lot considering he can't actually leave the institute because of Jane, but it was enough to disprove it.

So he has to tell him.

Martin conjured up all the courage he possibly could and made his way to Jon's office. He was about to knock when a voice told him to wait.

The person talking was a goth man, about the same height as him, with really creepy tattoos.

It looked as though he had been waiting outside the office door. Maybe he was there to give a statement?

"He's recording a statement", The man said, obviously taking Martin's quizzical look as confusion.

"Alright. I'll come back later than", He said, and was about to turn away, but stopped to ask the man who he was.

"I'm Gerard Keay", He said holding out his hand. Martin shook it giving his own name.

"Well, Mr.Keay, if you're here to give a statement, you can either write it down or you can wait in that area", He said pointing toward the right side of the large area they were currently in, and not to any particular location.

"You can call me Gerard. I'm not here to give a statement. Just found a book that I figured Jon would like to see.", He said this while holding up a brown paper bag that looked like it had something rectangular in it, the book.

"Why do you have it in a bag?"

"It's sensitive to lights. You should have seen what happened when I first walked outside with it. Almost lost my hand"

"The book, almost made you lose your hand?"

"Yeah. It's got some pretty sharp teeth"

"It has wh-", Martin's question was cut off by the opening of the office door. Jon stood there looking as tired as he always did.

"Martin, is there something you need?", He said, having not noticed Gerard.

"Yeah. I got that evidence you needed to disprove-", he was cut off again as Jon took the papers he was holding out to him.

"Very good. Thank you", It was at that point that he finally noticed the goth man, "Gerry, is there something I can help you with?"

"Brought you a gift", He said, holding up the bag and smiling as though the item inside wasn't something horrible.

"You found another one?", Jon sounded surprised, how hard was it to find books. Well, books with teeth were probably hard to find.

"It actually found me. Showed up at ou- my flat", Gerry corrected himself near the end, he looked at Martin as though he was waiting on him to say something. But all he did was excuse himself, not really interested in the book that bites.

He could hear Jon invite Gerry into his office as he walked away.

It was only later that night when he realized what Gerry had been saying before he corrected himself. He decided not to dwell on it and try to sleep.

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

3.

The next time that he was seen in the archives, was when he wasn't actually in the Archives. He wasn't even in the institute.

It was the same night that Jane Prentiss attacked. He was standing outside the institute, as close to the building as the medics would allow him. Saying something about an infestation and such.

Elias watched as the man stood there. Looking toward the building as if waiting for something. He knew the man. Of course he did. Someone who spent time with Gertrude all seemed to have the same type of despair about them. Also there was no way anyone could forget what this man looked like.

And right now, Gerard Keay, stood there, staring at his institute with a rage that Elias couldn't quite understand. And with every passing minute he became more and more impatient.

He watched as Gerard continuously checked his phone and his watch and back again. Waiting. He eventually got a phone call, or that's what it looked like. Gerard answered the call and took a few steps away from the institute.

This was when he stopped paying attention to him. Which was probably a good thing since Jon was up and going again and demanding everyone's statement about what happened.

The next time he saw Gerard Keay that night, he was helping a very tired Jonathan Sims, get home. He made mental note to look into how they know each other. Elias definitely didn't want them to interact too much. But from the look of it he was probably too late.

4.

Melanie watched as the man entered and immediately made his way to Elias's office. She listened as they both began to scream. Though she couldn't actually make out what they were saying.

When he came back through the archives Martin stopped him. The man turned to face him, the look of anger never leaving his eyes.

"Gerard? Why're you here?"

"Needed to have a talk with Elias", He said, obviously trying to keep his cool, not wanting to blow up on Martin for no reasons.

"Sounded more like a shouting match", Melanie commented from behind him. He turned to face her.

"Yeah. There's no being civil with someone like him", He told her gesturing towards the office he just left.

"Fair enough", She shrugged, "What were you yelling at him about"

"Him framing Jon for murder"

"He framed Jon?", Martin asked

"Yeah. Did you think he actually killed someone?", He asked.

"Wouldn't put it past him", Tim said as he walked past.

"Then you really, really don't know him", He said shaking his head, "I'm done with all of this. I'm going home".

They watched as he walked away. Confused on how this person who none of them knew personally, knew their boss so well. Except for Martin who had a look on his face, making it very obvious that he knew something.

"Martin, who was that?", Melanie asked.

"That was Gerard Keay. I think he's a rare book dealer, and also Jon's flatmate"

"He's what? How do you know that?", He then began to give her the rundown of what happened the last time he had seen Gerard.

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

5.

Basira was surprised to see someone rummaging around through the statements. Not that this was odd, it's just that she was sure that he didn't work here.

She was pretty sure she would remember seeing someone like him around the archives before now.

So she made a decision and began to walk up to him, trying not to call herself to his attention yet. She must have been walking to heavy because he turned around the second she got there.

He was holding a stack of papers in his tattooed hands. As she looked up from his hands to his face she could have sworn one of the several eyes blinked at her.

"Hello, I'm just here to collect a few statements", He said, a bit awkwardly as though he wasn't expecting anyone to be there. Which was fair considering how early it was, but it still made her not trust him.

"Yeah, I can see that. But no one except employees can take the statements out of here. If you would like to look over one for research purposes, you may file a request with me or someone else, but you can't take them", Basira said, although she couldn't imagine why anyone would need them for research.

"I don't need them for research. Jon actually asked me to come pick up some. He's in America, as I'm sure you know, and he wanted me to collect these for when he gets back", The man said.

"You know Jon?", She questioned, looking him over.

"Yeah. We're, uh, we're really close. I bet I know him better than you do actually", He said this with so much confidence, the last part anyway, she almost wanted to believe him. Almost.

"I'm sure. If you don't mind me asking, who are you and how exactly do you know Jon?"

"I'm Gerard Keay-", He was about to continue, but she cut him off.

"I know you. You were arrested for your mum's murder right?"

"I didn't do it! They soon realized it! It doesn't matter anyway."

"It kinda does. Not sure if we should have murderer running around the institute"

"One. I didn't do it! Two. What about Elias?"

"That's fair. Now, how do you know Jon?"

"I was trying to tell you. I met him a while back. We were both looking for a flatmate, it's cheaper you know? And he was told about me by a mutual friend, Georgie? Don't know if you've met her. And we hit it off. Have the same taste in music and books, and the same dislike of certain books. So that's it. We share a flat.", He said, all in one breath which was kinda freaky. She took all in and then frowned at him.

"Same taste in music? Really? That's hard to believe.", Basira told him.

"I told you I know him better than you do.", Gerard said, smirking.

"Okay, but how do I know you're telling the truth?"

"There's no real way to prove it. Sorry. Guess you'll just have to take my word for it. Though I'm sure Elias would vouch for me, but I'm sure you don't trust him much either, right?"

"Right. Look, I can't allow you to leave with the statements.", She told him. She had decided that she believed him for the most part, but that doesn't mean she was going to let him leave with the statements.

"That's fine. Is it okay if I stick them in his desk?", Gerard asked, walking over to it, ans not waiting on her response.

"Alright then. Is there anything else you need Gerard?", Basira asked him.

"No. Thank you for the chat, Detective, I'd love to do it again. Goodbye", He said as he left the archive room, only looking back to wave at her. This time she was certain one of the eyes blinked.

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

+1

They all gathered in the archives when Jon came back from America. He had apparently learned about some storage locker that Gertrude used to own.

He was halfway through telling everyone about it when Daisy spoke up.

"I know this is super important and what not, but who's the goth?", She said pointing at Gerard who was standing beside Jon.

"Gerard Keay", Said 'Goth' told her, doing mock how as he did so.

"The guy who killed his mother?", Daisy asked, recognizing the name.

"I didn't kill my mother! I was cleared of all charges! Why does everyone keep bringing that up?", He asked, not really angry just irritated.

"Fine. Whatever. Why is he here?", She asked Jon, over looking Gerard completely.

"He knew Gertrude, and he also knows where the storage locker is", Jon told her. Gerard elbowed him in the side, which is amazing considering the height difference, and gave him a pointed look. Jon sighed, "He's also here for emotional support"

"Emotional support? What is he your boyfriend?", Tim asked.

"That's it exactly it! I guess you were right, Tim is pretty smart when he wants to be. Did think you committed murder, but still", Gerard said.

They all began to ask questions. All at once overtop of each other. Jon eventually got them to stop. He looked around at all of them and frowned.

"The world is in danger and all you guys care about is my love life?"

[michaelgambons]

This is my first ever Drabble/imagine/ fanfic (whatever you want to call it!) so please bare with! It’s set in the UK, so if you encounter any unfamiliar language, places or references, please shoot me a message!

This chapter is intended to set the scene and introduce the characters, but it will get more exciting soon!

Baseline Romantic

Chapter 1

It was pouring with rain as the train pulled into the station. Grimacing slightly against the cold wind that was coming in from the gap in the train door, Y/N turned the collar of her coat up and picked up her bag, ready to hop off the train and made a dash for the nearest cover.

Once off the train and under shelter, Y/N paused slightly before heading for the exit. She bowed her head slightly against the rain, but it still managed to trickle down her neck and a shiver ran through her. It wasn’t just the cold and the wet that was making her shiver, though. As much as she was excited to see her friends, the idea of spending a long weekend socialising was enough to make her take a deep breath to steady herself.

For the last 10 years, without fail, Y/N and her friends had gathered in Charlie’s mum’s house on the outskirts of Peterborough for the August bank holiday. The tradition had been borne out of the boredom of the university summer holidays, during which, when stuck at home, too broke to travel, too lazy to work and keen to return to the freedom of university, they had spent the remainder of their student finance on train fares to spend the long weekend together. Charlie’s mum’s house was perfect for the piss up that ensued; it was in the middle of nowhere so they could play music as loud as they wanted, as late as they wanted, and, crucially, Charlie’s mum spent most of the year living at her boyfriend’s in Surrey. The weekends had become the stuff of legend.

As she stepped out of the station and glanced around for a lift, a horn sounded. Looking around for its source, she spotted a battered Land Rover parked a few meters away, whose driver and passenger were waving furiously at her, grins splashed across their faces. Y/N’s face broke into a wide smile as she ran across the car park to join them.

———

Half an hour later, nestled in front of a roaring fire, gin and tonic grasped in her hand, Y/N had finally started to warm up. She sighed deeply to herself, closing her eyes and allowing herself to relax into the deep sofa, but a sudden roar of laughter brought her back to the room.

‘I’m so glad you managed to come, Y/N’ Catherine said. ‘I can’t believe you were going to put your *job* ahead of spending time with your friends’ she continued with a laugh.

Y/N smiles vaguely. ‘Mate me too’ she replied. ‘Honestly though, it was touch and go right until yesterday! If the shite weather hadn’t meant that the trip had to be cancelled, you wouldn’t have been graced with my company at all’

‘What trip was this?’ Dominic asked, putting down his beer.

‘Urghhh, don’t get me started’ Y/N said. ‘It was the most stereotypical thing ever. I was taking some MP’s on a ruddy fishing trip to talk to them about protecting freshwater rivers’.

She looked round and saw everyone staring at her, unsure whether to take her seriously or not.

‘I’m not joking!’ She said, laughing. ‘It’s as ridiculous as it sounds- I would have had to have worn fucking fishing trousers. Believe me, I’m much happier, and warmer, to be here.’

‘No Dan?’ Misha asked.

Y/N grimaced internally. She was hoping she could have had at least one G&T before she had to answer that question. She didn’t need reminding of the massive argument they had had just before she’d left. Her boyfriend Dan hated these gatherings; hated the fact that they pushed him out of his comfort zone by having to spend the weekend with people who weren’t constantly plotting the next Bolshevik revolution, like he was.

‘I just don’t understand why you like these people, Y/N. They’re all so painfully middle class and you just spend the weekend drinking overpriced wine and eating twattish Waitrose food’ he had shouted as she had packed.

‘You’re being ridiculous Dan’ she had yelled back. ‘These people are as left wing and educated as they come. Just because they don’t sing Red Flag to themselves every morning doesn’t mean that they’re as vapid as you seem to think they are.’

They hadn’t managed to resolve the argument before she’d had to leave for her train. There was, ultimately, no resolution to it. Dan had taken a dislike to her friends ever since he’d met them, two bank holidays ago. He’d spent the evening on the same sofa as she was now sat on, preaching about the Marxist benefits of agriculture. Happy to entertain this for the initial hour, Y/N and her friends had happily joined in. When, 2 hours later, he showed no sign of wanting to change the subject, they had all gradually excused themselves to bed.

‘Ignorant Tories’ Dan had muttered to Y/N as they got ready for bed.

Back in the present, Y/N took a gulp of her drink before she replied.

‘He had some protest I think? He says hello though!’ she said, trying to sound bubbly and casual as she lied through her teeth.

No one seemed to question this though, and the conversation gradually drifted back to what they were going to have for dinner. Catherine, however, caught her eye from across the room, and motioned her outside.

When Y/N joined Catherine outside, she’s shivering under her coat, cigarette in hand, glancing up at the sky and grimacing at the black cloud that is looming over them.

‘So’ Catherine says. ‘Why is Dan really not here? I didn’t believe a minute of that protest bullshit’.

Y/N might have realised that, if anyone was going to see past her feeble excuse, it would be Catherine. Catherine who had lived with her on and off for the last 10 years. The only one of her friends Dan liked and simultaneously the friend of hers who liked Dan the least.

She’d just finished telling Catherine the story, when the backdoor opened again and Ben came into the garden. He stopped as soon as he saw their serious expressions though and gestured back to the door.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt- just wanted a cig. I’ll come back...’

He turned to leave, but Y/N shouted after him.

‘Don’t be ridiculous Ben, it’s not a state secret. Just Dan being a shit’ Y/N said.

Ben smiles sympathetically as he comes over to the two of them. He lights a cigarette and runs his hand through his shocking blonde hair.

‘Actually Ben, you could be useful. Y/N tell Ben the same thing you told me.’ Catherine said.

Five minutes later, Ben had been fully debriefed. Both girls turned to him to see his reaction; he took a drag of his cigarette, brow furrowed.

‘He’s being a complete fucking idiot’. He says, bluntly. ‘Totally disrespectful. You don’t always have to like your partners friends, but you should always make an effort. That’s what being in a relationship is for fucks sake’

Both girls snigger and smile into their cigarettes, opinions confirmed.

‘Catherine?’ Charlie shouts from the kitchen. ‘What am I doing with these courgettes?’

Catherine sighs and stubbs our her cigarette, before walking back into the kitchen, leaving Y/N with Ben.

Ben was the only member of the group who wasn’t part of the original university crew. He had first come to their August break 5 years ago; Dom’s out of work actor flatmate from London who was going through a bad breakup and was in dire need of wine, company and good food. No one else had joined the group before or since, but Ben had slotted in perfectly, and remained a permanent fixture. He was undoubtedly one of Y/N favourite members of the group; down to earth, thoughtful, but with a cruel sense of humour which complemented Y/N’s well. The two could spend hours snorting with laughter at jokes their friends failed to understand.

‘Mate we need to have a SERIOUS chat about your last year’ Y/N said, turning to Ben. ‘We haven’t caught up properly since before Christmas, and you’ve been to the Oscars since then for god’s sake! What was it like?’

Ben snorts into his wine. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint but it was actually very underwhelming. Fucking long and you can’t go out for food or a cigarette’.

‘That is so disappointing. I’ve been rehearing my Oscar acceptance speech since I was at least 10 with a shampoo bottle- don’t tell me it’s not all what it’s cracked up to be’ Y/N pouted.

Ben laughed. ‘What on earth are you winning this Oscar for? Have you switched careers while I was in LA?’

‘Best Documentary’. Y/A answers firmly and quickly. ‘An expose of a corrupt politician where I go undercover as his campaign manager whilst hooked up to a wire. Critics would praise my bravery and unique take on the issue’. She grinned at Ben, who is laughing at her.

‘Dan really doesn’t know what he’s missing’ Ben laughed.

The smile fades off Y/N’s face. Ben immediately realises his mistake and tries to change the subject, but it’s too late.

‘I’m sorry Y/N I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business. I just... he’s... you deserve better’ he finishes faintly.

‘Dinner!’ Comes a shout from the kitchen, before Y/N is able to reply.

————

Two hours and several glasses of wine later, Y/N finally had finally forgotten about Dan for the moment. She was warm, well fed, tipsy and in good company.

‘And that’ Misha shouts, voice confident with the gin he’s been drinking since lunchtime, ‘is how I ended up as Robert Mugabe’s private pilot’

Everyone around the table roars with laughter. Y/N catches the eye of Ben who is sitting across her on the table. Y/N looks away quickly. She doesn’t want Ben to think she’s staring at him- but it’s hard not to when you’re sat opposite someone as ridiculously pretty as him. Instead she reaches for the wine bottle to refill her glass. When she next looks up, however, she swears she catches Ben quickly looking away from her. She shakes her head slightly to clear it of the wine fog that’s descended on her.

Y/N catches sight of her reflection in the back of her wine glass. Of course Ben wasn’t staring at her. Her curly hair was all over the place after the day’s travel, and her make up had faded and smudged under eyes. Whilst far from unattractive, she’s no where near as polished as the skin thin models he was undoubtedly fucking over in LA. And anyway, she had Dan to think of.

Brushing the thought from her mind, Y/N turned to Cleo who was sat next to her and joined in the conversation she and Charlie were engaged in. Out of the corner of her eye though, she kept Ben in her peripheral vision.

—————

‘Y/N I’ve got a banger lined up for you in a second’ said Dominic with a cheeky grin. He was controlling the music they are listening to in the living room, which they’ve retreated to now dinner had been cleared away.

‘Oh no, what have you got lined up? Cleo moaned.

‘It’s either Baseline Junkie or Rocky Racoon if it’s for Y/N’ Charlie said laughing.

Hearing this, Y/N sat up in her chair, which she had previously been slumped in, letting the conversation wash over her, content but tired by the days events.

~ Hey turn the base off, turn the base off

Big dirty stinking base, dirty stinking base ~

Y/N leaps out of her chair. The group collectively moans and laughs as they watch Y/N sing and dance along to the song- completely out of rhythm but with a huge smile over her face.

She turns to each member of the group in turn, signing a line of the song to them. As she reaches Ben, she realises he is recording her sing, grinning into his camera. Slightly taken aback for a moment at the fact that this would undoubtedly be posted to his million + followers on instragram, instead of stopping, Y/N redoubles her efforts at performing the song into his camera.

As the song comes to an end, she bows into his camera as a round of applause rings out.

She suspects she’ll regret that in the morning

Chapter 2 now out!

————-

[mvnvgedmischief]

two cups into my coffee break: part 2 of the coffeeshop au i started for @ireadthehpbooks 

sirius black is an idiot. he’s convinced of it. because he’s already messed things up by being late to a date he planned, and this is only their third date. will he muck it up further, or will the cute barista be willing to give him a second chance at love over a latte?

2.1k words read part one here

fuck, fuck, FUCK. sirius is running towards the shoreditch grind, and it’s already 6:40. he’s pissed because he can’t believe that the mother little brat he was trying to teach to play a basic chord on the guitar for the third week in a row had the nerve to tell him it was his fault that her son wasn’t a guitar prodigy right now. she threatened to withhold payment for fuck’s sake. it couldn’t possibly be the fact that he hadn’t practiced once outside of his lessons, or that the kid so clearly wanted to play drums. but now he was fucking late and he hadn’t had the opportunity to let remus know until just a few seconds before he ran out the door. by the time he arrives at the coffee shop and book store, his hair is windblown and his face is red, and he’s done the twenty-five minute walk in ten minutes with a guitar strapped to his back. because he knows he probably looks idiotic and way too eager, he tries to take a moment to sort out his hair before walking in. when he does, he’s met with a sight he didn’t really want to see, but he knew he hadn’t done enough to avoid. there’s remus– the hottest fucking barista he’s probably ever seen – looking crestfallen while sweeping around some tables. 

“i hope you don’t look that disappointed on my account.” he’s plastered a smile on his face, despite how absolutely stressed out he feels. he wants to come off as cool, casual, and unbothered, but the way his cheeks are flushed from running betrays him and he knows it. 

“you came!” remus definitely didn’t mean to say that out loud, and he’s blushing all the way down his collar. sirius would definitely like to know how far that blush goes, but that’s definitely not something he wants to admit out loud. “sorry– i just thought you were looking for a way to get out of doing this.” 

“and miss an opportunity to see you? do you think i have enough restraint to not see the cutest barista i’ve ever met?”  “flattery will get you everywhere, sirius. but i doubt you needed me to tell you that, givne thee circumstances.” remus smiles, and sirius’s heart skips a beat. “you ready to go?” 

“yeah, let me just put back this broom and grab my book.” remus disappears into the breakroom, where the shop owner, marlene, is waiting to take over. his heart is racing, and he feels like he might be flushed to the ears right now. his hands are shaking as he pulls off his apron, hanging it on a hook, and he can hear her making fun of him for the way he’s blushing. 

“aw, moony! he’s cute then, yeah?”  “so fucking cute, you have no idea.” the tiny blonde pokes her head out from the back room, giving sirius a once over and grinning. when she returns, remus is staring in the mirror, adjusting his tawny curls and the way his hat sits upon them. “moony, you didn’t tell me he looked like a model! now stop preening and get out there! i want details when you get home mister.”  “fine mum.” he grumbles, but the grin on his face tells a different story. he walks out from behind the counter, and sirius immediately slots their fingers together. 

god could he be any cuter with his stupid hat and his stupid baggy jeans, his beat up converse and his retro jumper? sirius thinks that boys like remus, hell remus himself will be the death of him, and they haven’t even left yet. 

“so i’m kind of really bad at this whole thing–” “oh i couldn’t tell, sirius. the first two dates and the being an hour late thing didn’t tip me off.” “oi were you a prefect in secondary school or something?” “yes actually.” remus blushes again, and fuck he hates his pale skin in that moment. “anyways, as i was saying i don’t really know the best place to take someone on a date. i was hoping you might have some recommendations. or, if you’re like– my brand of idiot– we could get a takeaway and have an impromptu picnic. ‘s kinda nice out.”  “there’s a cute place in covent garden that i like, if you’re up for the hike ??”  “ oh really?? i live on the picadilly, so that’s actually really convenient for me.”  “sounds like a plan then.” remus is grinning as they walk towards the tube station, and his grin only gets wider as sirius snakes an arm around the other man’s waist. he knows that he’s kind of touchy for a first date, but he feels like he needs it. like some kind of touch starved animal. maybe it was because he hadn’t been close to someone since before reg’s funeral. he hasn’t done anything really since before. which kind of frustrates him now, because fuck he feel like he’s lost his mojo. he feels like a bumbling, blushing idiot. the two of them make their way down to the tube station and step on to train. sirius stands, leaning against the side of the carriage smiling and joking with remus. he notices that the other man seems to sway on his feet, and his brows furrow with concern. he doesns’t feel like he should ask– like it was some kind of more personal question- so instead after the next stop, he gestures to two open seats to sit. 

remus hates this. he hates that sometimes his heart just doesn’t function well enough for him to stand. he hates it even more when this man– this sweet, impossibly attractive man– notices that something is wrong. he can practically read it on sirius’s face, and remus just wishes hiss body would get it’s shit together for once, so he could have one normal night. that doesn’t stop him from being thankful when the two of them sit, fingers slotting together once more. it makes his heart ache in his chest, in the best way possible, and the two of them continue talking and laughing until they come to their stop. 

remus guides sirius out of the tube station and to the tiny french cafe that he and lily usually frequent on payday. it’s small and adorable, in remus’s opinion, all warm-toned lights marble tables, and dark wood. the two get a table outside, and remus knows what he wants before he’s even really browsed the menu. his eyes are lit up as he talks to sirius about anything and everything, from what they did for a-levels to what they’re up to now, and he’s kind of enjoying hearing about the bratty child and his mother that had made sirius late in the first place. 

“so you like kids?” “yeah! the little fuckers are adorable– an’ i remember learning to play guitar. i think i would have loved to have a fun teacher that i got along with... i think when i work with teens that’s the best because they uh– they have a lot of emotion tied up in music an’ i remember being like that.”  “yeah i guess. i dunno, like, i didn’t like being a teenager.” “oh yeah, me either. uh– shit was dark. but i feel like it would have been nice to have someone in my life that i could talk to. not that i have this weird father figure relationship with the kids or anything life that or anything. just like an older brother figure? do what i–” he cuts himself off, trying to figure out a way to stop himself from talking in that moment. he doesn’t want to talk about it. not really. but at the same time, he’s definitely a let me warn you about all this shit beforehand so you don’t get involved in my mess type of guy.  “ you okay?” “yeah, i’m okay, sorry.”  “don’t worry about it, love. thoughts on champagne? to celebrate you coming out with me, despite how ridiculously late i was.”  theen it’s remus’s turn to feel uncomfortable because he’s not getting paid until the end of the week and he doesn’t really have the disposable income to waste on a bottle of bubbly.  “i just– not to sound like a poor coffee shop worker– but i work in a coffee shop and i’m kind of broke.”  “don’t worry, love. i’ve got it. you can get our next date.”  “oh, so there’s a next date?”  “sure hope so. i hope i didn’t screw it up too much.” “i’d like that.” sirius orders their drinks, as well as food, and they continue to talk and laugh. this feels easy in a way being around his friends hasn’t been in months. maybe it’s because his friends new reg, and they knew that sirius had left him behind. maybe the guilt was still eating him alive, regardless, he’s thankful for this. when they finally finish their meal, sirius notices remus’s cheeks are tinted just a bit pink. when they leave, sirius can’t help his giggles, and he’s feeling fucking bold because he invites remuss to come back with him. they spend their night together, and sirius couldn’t be more excited. especially not when he wakes up the next morning to remus in his arms, and hickies across his collarbones. remus is still asleep, so sirius takes a moment to admire the sharp lines and soft curves of the other man’s body, the pads of his calloused fingers tracing down the scars on his lover’s back. remus slowly stirs at that, and sirius wonders if the look that crosses remus’s face is panic or fear, because the other man does not look thrilled.

“do you want to know where they came from or something?”

“if you want to tell me then yeah. if you don’t, that’s fine too.”

“‘s not a big deal. some guy broke into my parents’ house when i was a kid. fucked me up royally but i don’t remember it or anything.”

“i’m sorry love.” sirius whispers into the other man’s hair. “my baby brother died six months ago. that’s why i kind of clammed up last night.”

“you didn’t have to tell me— if you weren’t ready.”

“yeah, i did. mutually assured destruction. we’re big on that, in this flat.”

“huh, my flatmate lily has been saying that a lot recently. usually when we get stoned but she still has work to do.”

“yeah, ‘s a policy, my flatmate, James lives by.” as sirius is saying it, he hears the front door open. “speak of the devil, i swear.” he grins, and their ears are met with the call of james from the entryway. “sirius ! i brought my girlfriend and breakfast!”  “are we at the meet the best mate point in the relationship, or should i get rid of them?”  “oh there’s a relationship?”  “kinda hoping so. otherwise it’d suck that i just told you i have a dead brother.” “then i guess we’re at the meet the best mate point in the relationship.” remus grins, pressing a light kiss to sirius’s cheek. fuck does it give him butterflies. and then they’re rolling out of bed, remus pulling on a jumper from the end of sirius’s bed, and his jeans. sirius also pulls on a jumper and some sweats. the two of them exit the room, and their met with the shocked expression of both lily and james.  “remus when did you start sleeping with my best mate?” james asks, and sirius feels like he might be blushing all the way down to his collar.  “james’s best mate is your cute coffee shop regular! you know we could have set this up for you guys so much sooner if you had told us.”  “i’m sorry– you two know each other?” sirius feels very out of the loop in this moment.  “remus is my best mate.” lily supplies, and honestly sirius is glad to be clued in. “guess i don’t have to bring breakfast home for you then.”  “not really” remus beams “unless you want me to go, sirius.” but as soon as the words have been spoken, sirius is enthusiastically disagreeing.  the four of them sit and talk over breakfast, remus’s fingers interlocked with sirius’s as they catch up with james and lily. it’s nice, having something like this again. and sirius wouldn’t trade it for the world. he likes the idea of a budding romance between himself and remus, and he thinks remus likes it as well. that’s why, when he walks remus out the door, and they share a sweet kiss, he doesn’t fear that it’s the last time he’ll watch remus walk out the door. instead, he already starts planning the next time remus walks in. 

[leighbot]

Hi, hello. I'm looking at these prompts and I really like the sound of 4. if you'd want to give it a try?

this got far too long, i’m sorry, so i wrapped it up quickly! it felt never ending lol. thank you babe!

04.  I’m tired of my friends/family setting me up on horrible blind dates so I made up a relationship and now they want to meet this mystery person

What does Zayn need an alarm for when he has someone banging on his door so loudly they must be using the palm of their hands to recreate some otherworldly drum beat?

“Fucking stop it,” he calls out as he rolls off the sofa, landing on his hands and knees and praying for his head to stop spinning. The fourth shot last night had been a miscalculation and the sixth had been a huge mistake. “I will pay you to stop,” he says as the knocking continues.

Rhino is losing his mind, pacing in front of the door with a stuffed toy in his mouth and his tail whacking a thudthudthud against the hardwood floors.

He finally gets to his feet and opens the door to his flat, not bothering to check if it’s a murderer because only one person in the whole entire world would ever act so obnoxiously the day after Zayn’s birthday. Only Harry Styles knows he can pout his way back into Zayn’s good graces after this stunt.

Harry breezes into his flat, tossing his hipster hat and scarf on Zayn’s kitchen table with a pat to Rhino’s head. Why he bothered to put on a scarf when he lives four doors down is a mystery. “Finally,” he says, his voice low and quick with exasperation and far, far too loud for the way Zayn feels.

“I think I’m still drunk from last night,” Zayn says, dragging his feet across the room and pulling a water bottle from the fridge. He tosses Rhino a treat from the bowl on the worktop. Harry’s making himself at home in the main sitting area, flipping through Zayn’s records like he’s on a mission. “Did I steal one of yours, or something?” Zayn asks, shuffling back to the sofa. He gets shocked twice when he sits and he chugs half of the bottle in his hand in one go.

“What?” Harry asks, voice still entirely too loud. He looks to the four records he’s already got in his hand. “Oh, no, just looking. Anyway, I came here to ask you a favour.”

“Hell of an entrance if you want to be on my good side,” Zayn comments. Harry smiles at him with just the right amount of dimple in it and he starts crawling across the floor. “Oh, leave me alone,” Zayn bitches though he’s already smiling by the time Harry is climbing onto his lap like an oversized dog. He’s worse than Rhino, who has passed out again in his dog bed.

“Did I hurt your head?” Harry asks, nuzzling into his neck. “I’m sorry, maybe I’d know how you felt if you’d invited me out.”

Zayn snorts and pushes Harry away, letting him fall onto the sofa next to him. For all that Harry’s made himself at home in Zayn’s flat this morning, they’ve only met a few weeks ago when Harry had moved into the building. It’s quite astonishing, actually, that Zayn’s grown so comfortable with him this quickly but he reckons Harry is just like that.

“What kind of favour do you want?”

Harry frowns and fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Ineedyoutobemyboyfriend.”

Even sober, Zayn doesn’t think he could understand that. “Once again,” he prompts.

“I need you to be my boyfriend,” Harry says in his usual slow drawl. Zayn can feel his eyebrows shoot straight into his hairline and Harry must see the look on his face because he flushes. “I… well…”

“Shouldn’t you, like, ask me out first?” Zayn says, trying to find reason in this conversation.

Harry’s eyebrows furrow close to touching in confusion, like he isn’t the one responsible for their current predicament.

Zayn tries to clarify. “Boyfriend is kind of… a third date conversation.”

Understanding floods Harry’s eyes like a sunrise. “Oh, shit. Oh, sorry, no. Nononono, I mean. Okay, so my mum’s always on my case about dating and she’s roped my friends into setting me up so I, well, I told her I’m seeing someone and you’re… someone.”

“I am someone,” Zayn says, agreeing on instinct. “Why me?”

“You don’t know how involved in my life my mum is; she knows everything about me. She knows every one of my friends, most of my coworkers. Half of my graduating class sent her thank you notes for gifts she gave them. You’re new, she didn’t know you yet.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and finishes his water bottle. “So, how did this happen?”

“Well, I don’t love lying to my mum,” Harry admits, getting off the sofa and going to mess with Rhino. “I had been telling her I was seeing someone and she didn’t need too many details at first but she started calling my old flatmate and asking him so I just… I gave her your name.”

“When?” Zayn asks, suddenly amused. He didn’t think Harry was a cure for a hangover but he’s barely feeling the pressure in his head anymore. He smashes the bottle and gives it to Rhino when the dog leaves Harry behind to chase the crinkle sound he’d made.

Harry makes a face and Zayn’s amusement grows.

“When did you tell your mum I’m your boyfriend, Haz?”

“The day after I moved in,” Harry admits sulkily.

Zayn doesn’t hold his laughter in. “Why are you telling me this all of a sudden?”

“Well, mum’s coming in for my birthday and she wants to have dinner with my boyfriend.”

Zayn laughs too hard to continue talking and Harry’s pouting face keeps him from catching his breath fully for a long, long time.

~*~

~*~

“I’m not saying this is a dumb idea,” Zayn says and Harry cuts him off.

“Then don’t say it.”

Zayn nudges him, hitting right in the spot that he knows is Harry’s most ticklish point, and Harry smacks him back. They push back-and-forth like children wrestling and it’s then, of course, that Anne walks up and finds them.

“Should I be concerned that you’re abusing your boyfriend, love?”

Zayn’s spoken on the phone and through FaceTime a few times so he pulls her into the first hug and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Haz couldn’t hurt a fly,” he says.

“Hiya, dear, you alright?” she asks, kissing him back and squeezing him tight. She’s such a mum it makes him instantly homesick and he lets her hold on for an extra few seconds before allowing Harry to push his way through.

“Mine,” Harry says possessively, wrapping Anne in both his arms and lifting her from the floor. “Hiya, mummy.”

“Hi, babe,” she says, linking their arms together once he releases her. “You hungry? I’m starved.”

“We’ve got lunch setup back at my place,” Zayn says. “Did you want to go somewhere, though?”

“No, darling, that sounds great. You driving?”

Harry laughs, snorting into her shoulder. “Zayn doesn’t drive.”

“I hated it myself until I had two little ones to lug around,” Anne says, patting Zayn’s arm gently. “You two will figure that out at your own pace, though.”

“We’ve not even been here two minutes and you’re already talking about babies.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. Harry talks about babies almost daily. Zayn knows every name he’s ever considered for a daughter and could narrow Harry’s top three for a son without even trying. He’s braided Harry’s curls while listening to him talk about his five year plan and year four, day thirty-seven, hour nine involves beginning the process for adoption because Harry’s heart is too large to not take in children who need homes and support.

Zayn climbs into the backseat, insisting Anne take the front. “I’m safer back here, anyway,” he jokes, sprawling across the back.

“I’m getting better,” Harry insists. “No accidents so far this year.”

“Well, it’s only February so that isn’t saying much.”

~*~

~*~

Rhino loves Anne, of course, flirting with her with his still-puppy growls and bringing her several toys to choose from before waiting patiently for her to toss them. 

“It’s so nice that you found a place so close to your beau,” Anne says, halfway through her salad. “Was it too soon for you two to just live together?”

“A bit, mum,” Harry says. “We’ve only been dating a bit.”

“I know, I know. You’ve always fallen fast, though, and I can see how well you two get on.”

“Zayn likes me still because he doesn’t have to clean up after me,” Harry teases and Anne and Zayn both laugh.

“How does your family like my boy?”

“Oh,” Zayn says, unable to contain his exhale. He’s prepped for this fake-boyfriend role a bit but he hasn’t really thought about answering this one. “They haven’t met, yet.”

“I get to be the first,” she says with excitement. “I’d love to get to know your parents, Zayn. Have your mum give me a call sometime.”

Zayn nods, his cheeks heated. “Of course.”

Harry frowns at him from across the table and Zayn pulls a face to help lift the tension.

“I’m sorry,” Anne says, not fooled for a moment. “I didn’t mean to make this weird. I’m just excited you two are happy exactly as you are. Not saying anything else about it.”

Zayn leans to his left and presses a kiss to Anne’s cheek. “All is good, love. Do you want more water? We’ve got some wine too.”

“Oh, I’d love some wine. You drinking?”

“Zayn’s still hungover from his birthday a couple weeks ago,” Harry says, his eyes wide once he’s finished talking. He mouths I’m sorry as Zayn stands up and Zayn pauses, confused.

“I missed your birthday?” Anne asks, her tone sharp with shock.

“Mum, it isn’t missing a birthday if you didn’t know him yet.”

“And who’s fault is that? You and your secrets, Harry. Oh, Zayn, let’s skip the lunch wine and let’s go do something for your birthday.”

Zayn smiles, overwhelmed with fondness. “We don’t need to,” he says. “I want this to be about Harry. He’s the birthday boy this weekend.”

He scuttles into his kitchen, five whole heartbeats away from the dining room table. “I love your mum,” he tells Harry in what he hopes is a whisper when Harry follows him. 

“You sure? You look spooked.” Harry pulls him into a hug, pressing his lips to Zayn’s hair.

Zayn shrugs and smiles. “Just homesick. Gonna make you return the favour for my parents now.”

“I’ll do it,” Harry offers easily. “I’d love to meet your parents.”

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 12: Tyrant, Martyr, Saviour

(from ‘The Conman and the Maid’ Series)

…in which Harry saves someone, and Y/N is locked up.

Word count: 4.8k

AU: princess!y/n, conman!harry, prisoner!harry.

Series description: Y/N is a princess and Harry is a prisoner in her castle. With his help, she escapes from her arranged marriage in search of a happy ending, if there is one.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

Let's see if you recognize the In Another Life and Flatmate references ;)

Note: This AU has a connection with IAL but has nothing to do with the curse because this story took place way before that. You don't have to read IAL to understand the ending, but if you have read IAL, the ending will blow your mind. We have three chapters left.

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When Harry had come to talk to Kenny, her mother had been shocked to see that he wasn’t dead. He must admit that it was satisfying to see Patricia Rowley’s round face turn ashen as if she were staring at a ghost. If only the fun had lasted longer. Once Patricia was sure he was a real person, she had looked him up and down and said in a spiteful and condescending tone, “Her husband had come to take her home. It’ll be for the best if you stay away from her, boy.”

Then she’d given a dismissive wave and turned on him to make sure he knew he was still that same dirty poor boy who didn’t deserve her daughter.

That day, he’d gone home feeling quite relieved that he wouldn’t have to break Kenny’s heart for good. Until the things left unsaid overtook him. They became a heavy burden that he would have to carry wherever he went. Would Kenny ever forgive him? He hated her mother, but that woman hadn’t been wrong. He didn’t deserve Kenny. Not even as a friend.

It’d been three weeks since the night at the tavern. He was finally healing. Or so he thought. He’d been keeping his hands and mind busy with hunting trips with Caleb. They sold the animals they’d hunted and earned some low income. It was fine. Not great. Just fine. Fine was enough for someone like him.

Gemma had advised him to reopen their father’s blacksmith shop as it would be a steadier source of income. He was still considering it. He wasn’t good at the job but he could learn. He might. Right now, he had no motivation.

He’d stopped stealing and cheating, but he wouldn’t count it as accomplishment since he now slept with every attractive woman he came across. Hell, by the time he’d figured out what to do with his pathetic life, he might have already fucked this entire city. He didn’t know what else to do in order to not feel so empty, because while he was inside someone or had someone’s mouth or hands all over him, all he could think about was her.

He’d waited every day for the response from the sisters or news of the upcoming war, but there was none. For the first week, he’d been worried that the sisters had refused to help Y/N, or the letter hadn’t got to them yet, or something bad had happened to them. But when that week had ended and there’d been no news of the letter, he’d decided to give up. He hadn’t sold the ring as it was the only thing of her that he’d got left, but every time he looked at it, he was reminded of her, of what they could have been if they weren’t who they were.

Every night, while lying next to a stranger and the stranger had fallen asleep, he would tell himself that in another life, they’d be together again. They’d have a normal life, had children, a dog called Whisker or a cat called…

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to name their cat. But he wanted it to have white fur, like snow, like the land she’d come from, like the night they’d met, like the moment at the stable when he’d been struck by the way those white flakes danced their way down her clothes and her hair...

Before he’d drifted, he’d decided to call their white cat Treasure. After all, their adventure had begun with the treasure in her satchel, but all along she’d been the gold he’d been looking for. Now he was empty-handed. No gold. No lover.

True lovers always find their way back to each other, she had told him at the river where her parents had met. She’d believed her parents had met again in the afterlife and finally got a normal life, which had been taken from them since the day they’d been born. Just like her.

He’d said nothing that night, but he’d believed everything she’d said. He would maintain that faith, that if they couldn’t find their way back to each other in this lifetime, he’d meet her in another life as different people. They would say hello, and try again.

Three weeks had passed. Everything seemed to have fallen into place. Until today, when trouble finally came to him.

It came knocking on his door at the break of dawn. No, not knocking. Pounding. He was barely awake and he thought it was a dream until he opened the door and Kenny crashed into his arms. She was shaking and pale like a ghost. He asked her what was wrong. And before she could explain, he heard shouting from the front yard. He recognized the voice. It was Gideon.

Harry balled his fists and told Kenny to wait inside while he went out to see what Gideon wanted. If that son of a bitch had threatened to hurt Kenny—if he had hurt Kenny, Harry would kill him with his bare hands.

“Harry, no!” Kenny cried out as she seized his wrist, but her strength was no match for his. He marched toward the door, forcing her to stumble along. Gideon was waiting outside, his face red and twisted with rage.

“You have something that’s mine.” He pinned Kenny with his eyes and she recoiled behind Harry’s back.

“Something?” Harry somehow kept his tone calm though his blood was boiling. “She’s your wife.”

Eyes narrowed, Gideon stabbed a finger at him. “You. You put this crazy idea into her head.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry scoffed. Kenny clutched his arm tighter and he placed a hand over hers to calm her down. That one simple gesture had triggered Gideon.

“You dirty whore,” he barked. “Have you been letting him fuck you?”

“Do not talk to her that way,” Harry warned, his fingers aching to reach for the dagger at his side. He would not start his day by killing someone. Not even Gideon was worth it.

“Give that whore back to me.”

Harry turned a deaf ear to Gideon and looked over his shoulder, meeting Kenny’s glossy brown eyes. “You’re not going anywhere. Nobody’s taking you anywhere.”

She nodded and looked ahead, then her eyes went wide. “Watch out!”

Harry shoved her aside just in time to dodge Gideon’s knife. The bastard had been carrying it the whole time and Harry had worried too much about Kenny to notice. Gideon shouted and aimed for Harry’s chest. Harry kicked him hard in the stomach, elbowed his jaw, snatched the knife from his hand and tugged his arm backwards over his shoulder. There was a loud crack and Gideon was on the ground, howling like wounded prey.

Kenny had ducked back into the house, hiding her face behind the door and sobbing out loud. Gideon was still wailing in the dirt with a broken arm. If Harry hadn’t been weary from his lack of sleep, he would be laughing at this scene.

“You crazy...you crazy fuck! You broke my arm!”

“Next time it’ll be your neck,” Harry said and yanked Gideon up by his collar. “Don’t fucking come back for her or I’ll cut your throat and dump your body into the river.”

Gideon ran without looking back. He’d seen what Harry was capable of and didn’t want to test his patience.

When Harry turned back to Kenny and asked if she was all right, he noticed the bruises on her arms. She saw him staring and tugged down her sleeves.

“What happened?” he asked. She was still trembling.

“I told you I’d been saving for my own business. He found the money and took it all.” She rubbed the bruises over the fabric of her dress. Her gaze dropped as she continued. “And he...he hit me. I escaped but he found me at my mother’s house and chased me all the way here.” Her voice began to break. “I’m s-sorry I came….I didn’t...didn’t want to get you in trouble. But I have nowhere else to go. My mum...she didn’t allow me to enter the house. She wanted me to stay with Gideon and I...I can’t stay with him...He’d hit me again...”

Harry shushed her softly and looped his arms around her shoulders, drawing her close. She buried her face into his chest, sobbing hysterically. He waited for her to quiet down before he went on, “You can stay here. We’ll figure something out.”

She pulled back to look up as he lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears swimming in her big brown eyes.

“No, I’m sorry.” He held her shoulders and squeezed. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” He hoped she knew he meant it.

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“Princess, you’ve got to eat.”

“I’m. Not. Hungry.”

The maid shrank back in fear and glanced cautiously at the tray of untouched food and then Y/N, who took a deep breath and turned back to the window. She had no idea how long she’d been sitting on this window sill and staring longingly at the boring snow-covered garden. Time passed so slowly when she was in this castle that it felt like Isolde had its own concept of time. Minutes became hours. Hours became weeks. And weeks became years. It felt like three years had passed since she’d last seen him. She couldn’t believe it.

She’d just got back to Isolde last week. Her brother had made sure they hadn’t made too many stops along the way. The sooner we get home, he’d said, the faster I could start planning this war.

Home? This didn’t feel like home anymore. It hadn’t since her mother had died. She’d been locked up and forbidden from any contact with the outside world. She could only speak to Aleia – her new maid. She had no idea where they kept Jo, but she believed Egon wouldn’t harm Jo now that she was carrying his future heir.

After all the shit that Y/N had gone through, finding out about Jo’s pregnancy hadn't shocked her as much as it should have. Despite what had happened between them, she still cared about Jo, and she really hoped the baby was a boy. Egon would make Jo’s life a living hell if it was a girl. Y/N’s hands were tied now; she wouldn’t be able to protect Jo or her nephew. She was no saviour after all.

It’d been easy to imagine herself defeating Egon when Egon wasn’t there. Next to him, she was nothing. She’d been nothing her whole life. The only time she’d been something was when she’d been with Harry. She couldn’t be anything now that she was on her own, without anyone to tell her they believed in her.

She didn’t hear the maid leave, but she felt her absence and turned to find that the tray was gone. The maid had given up on her, too. Good, she thought. She’d rather starve and die than live to see her brother bathe this kingdom with his people’s blood.

A few moments later, the door flew open. She didn’t bother to turn; there could only be one person who would make that dramatic entrance.

“Princess…” Alaia trembled. Y/N heard the clinking of cutlery so she looked over her shoulder to see the maid holding the same food tray. But this time her brother was standing at the door, two guards behind him.

“Put it on the table,” Egon ordered, his voice rough reminding her of the way he’d hit her before. He hadn’t laid a finger on her since they’d got into the carriage outside Calanthe’s castle, but every moment after, she’d expected it. She couldn’t even sleep.

“I’m not hungry,” she told him.

He gestured for Aleia and his guards to dismiss, and they all retreated into the hallway and shut the door.

“I don’t care if you’re hungry,” he said in an unusually calm tone and gracefully dropped down on one of the chairs at the table. He leaned back and rubbed his chin, inspecting her. “You’re too skinny. Your future husband won’t like that. Oh, have I forgotten to tell you that you’re seeing him in three days? He’s travelling all the way here for you. Is that romantic?”

“No.”

Egon stuck out his bottom lip and shrugged. He didn’t care if she agreed. “Well, come on. Eat while it’s still hot. I asked the cook to make you your favourite salmon soup and–”

“I’m not marrying Kavan.” The words slipped out before she could catch them and shove them back down her throat. Her fists clenched as Egon pinned her with his dark eyes, which softened at once, and he smiled. Her fear made him relax.

“Don’t be silly, Y/N. You are.”

“I’m not. I don’t wish to marry him. I don’t wish to ever marry.” This time, she’d said those words purposefully. If he was going to kill her, it was only a matter of time. If Harry’s speculations had been true, that Egon needed her alive, then the worst thing that could happen to her was getting locked up. She’d rather rot with the rats then obey him any longer.

But his next question stabbed her hard in the guts.

“Are you in love with someone else?”

She couldn’t answer. It didn’t matter if she confirmed or denied, Egon already knew.

“Did you let him fuck you?”

“What?”

“Are you still a virgin?” Her ears buzzed as if there were a swarm of bees living inside her head. “You’re not, are you?” His voice got more raucous. “I did all of this to bring you home, and clear your crimes, and find you a husband, and make you the future queen of a kingdom, and this is how you repay me?!”

“I owe you nothing.”

He backhanded her so hard she toppled back and hit the table. The food tray rattled but didn’t fall to the floor, and neither did she. She was still standing though her face burnt and her jaw ached. She cupped her sore cheek and scowled at him, her teeth clenched, her fist tight. He took a step forward. This time, she stood still, second-guessing his next move.

He stabbed a finger at her face. “You are nothing without me,” he said. “I’m your King. I own you.”

“Nobody owns me. I belong to no one.”

He raised his palm and she caught his wrist before he could touch her. Egon was physically much stronger and could easily break her hand, yet he was so shocked by her reaction that he froze for a second. She spat in his face and shoved him off. He violently grabbed her by the hair and pulled so hard she felt as if her scalp was coming off. She gasped, trying to wriggle out of his grip when he pushed her to the floor and called for his guards. Once her vision cleared, she pushed herself up weakly to find two guards in the doorway. Their face was taut with concern when they saw her like this. Then she was reminded that not everyone was heartless like her brother.

“Take the Princess to the dungeon,” Egon said as he wiped her spit with his sleeve. A corner of her mouth turned up. She felt weirdly satisfied. She didn’t try to fight back when the guards twisted her hands behind her back and pulled her up. They were gentle. Probably because she was their princess, and they’d known her since her parents had been alive. As they directed her out of the room, she heard Egon say, “If she tries to escape, you’re allowed to hurt her. As long as you keep her alive. And don’t leave marks.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said the guards.

She didn’t even remember how she got to the dungeon. She didn’t even remember walking there. Her feet had carried her on their own, and by the time she’d snapped back to reality, she was already standing behind bars. The guard locked the door, gave her a sympathetic look and took off without a single word. It was so quiet here. All the other inmates must be asleep. She flopped down on the hard ground and hugged her knees to her chest.

She remembered this place. This was where she and Harry had met for the first time. Well, the secondtime. She smiled at the memory though it seemed so far away. The air was hot and humid. She was sweating under her heavy dress. She rested her cheek on her knee and stared at a crack on the wall. For how long? She didn’t know. She stared and stared until her eyes grew heavy. A voice from the cell opposite from hers pulled her right back.

“Pretty lady!”

She snapped her head up and saw the bearded man whom she recognized. “Hey, Mick,” she said, her voice hoarse. She nearly burst into tears. “I’m so glad to see you again.” Was she, though? Maybe she was just glad she could talk to someone.

“I’m not Mick,” the man said with a nonchalant smile. “I’m Harry Styles!”

“Right…” She giggled despite herself. Although it was always good to hear his name. “I missed you.”

“So his name isn’t Harry Styles?”

A female voice from the cell beside Mick stole her attention. She got up and walked toward the bars to get a better look at whoever was speaking. The woman was sitting in the shadow; Y/N couldn’t see her face.

“He’s been telling everyone that was his name,” the woman said.

“My name’s Harry Styles!” Mick repeated, sounding as cheerful as before.

Y/N ignored him. “Harry Styles was the prisoner who used to be in this cell,” she told the lady. “I knew him.”

“What happened? Where is he and why are you in his place?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N suppressed a laugh at the joke. Was it a joke or did this situation make everything funny? She bunched up her dress and flopped down on the floor, crossing her legs and resting her head against the cold metal bars. She drew in a soft breath.

“I helped him escape,” she began, her voice much softer than she thought. “We went on an adventure together. It felt like a dream. Then I woke up, and I’m back here. But he’s home and safe with his family so I think that still counts as a happy ending.”

“Half a happy ending.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’m Y/N. What’s your name?”

“Maggie,” said the woman. “You’re the runaway princess.”

It wasn’t a question. Everyone in the castle knew.

“Not much of a princess now,” she said despairingly. “Why are you here, Maggie?”

“Your brother would give a better answer,” Maggie replied, sounding surprisingly relaxed. “They took me and my sisters.”

“For what crime?”

“Awful ones.”

“Like murder?”

“I wish.”

Y/N didn’t know what that meant. She looked over to Mick and saw that he’d fallen asleep. She guessed she should save her energy for whatever her brother had in store for her tomorrow. But curiosity got her wide awake.

“Where are your sisters?”

“In a better place, I hope,” Maggie answered. There was no sign of sadness or fear in her voice. It was like they were having a normal conversation about the weather. “Why are you here?”

Y/N hadn’t expected to be asked any question, so it took her a moment to be able to answer. “Because I’m not a virgin anymore.”

“Really?” Maggie let out a faint laugh, from which Y/N imagined Maggie as a young girl, the same age as her. “Stupid men. They think they have rights over our bodies.”

“Maybe I deserved it.” Y/N didn’t know where that’d come from. Those were probably the words she hadn’t been brave enough to say. “I-I made a precarious choice.”

There was a long moment of silence. She guessed Maggie wasn’t interested in her personal stories. But then Maggie said, “That baby is in for big trouble.”

Y/N felt as if a string inside of her was pulled. “What baby?”

“The one you’re thinking about. The one you’re afraid to have.”

Was it so obvious? People just looked at her and knew what she was thinking about? But Maggie wasn’t even looking at her. So how–

“What would you name him?”

Him? Y/N shuddered. “My...my mother didn’t have a baby the first time–”

“But you already have the name,” Maggie asserted as if she’d been living in Y/N’s head. “You’ve thought of it.”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

“Edward.”

Like his father’s father.

Y/N was panting now. She got on her knees and stuck her face between two bars, trying to look into the shadow to see this person she was talking to. Who was this Maggie? Was she a mind-reader? How did she know Y/N had been fantasizing about the life and family she could have had with Harry? When you were locked up in a tower for a week, you started to think of crazy things.

On the night they’d made love, she hadn’t cared if she’d get pregnant, she’d wanted to be as close to him as she could. But now that she knew how cruel her brother could be, she felt like a fool. Even if she got out of here and married Prince Kavan, she wouldn’t ever escape Egon. He would always have something against her. He’d have her baby against her. So she hoped Edward didn’t exist.

“Who are you, Maggie?” she finally asked. “Show your face.”

There was something moving in the shadow of Maggie’s cell. And everything fell back to silence.

.

.

.

“I can’t eat with you staring at me, Kenny.”

“Sorry.”

"I'm joking." Harry laughed as Kenny dropped her head to hide her flushed cheeks. She hadn’t even touched her soup, and he’d already finished his. “What is it?” he asked when she glanced up again.

Flustered, she smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to see if you enjoyed the soup.”

“I did,” he reassured her. “You didn’t have to cook for me, though.”

“That’s the least I could do to thank you for letting me stay.”

The silence returned. Harry kept staring at the bowl in front of Kenny. It seemed like she wasn’t in the mood to eat. He pursed his lips while rearranging his thoughts. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions to ask; he didn’t know where to begin.

“What are you gonna do?” he finally spoke.

“I’m...well...I don’t,” she stuttered while picking at her own nails. “My money’s all gone.”

“He can’t just keep your money. You earned it.”

She’d been working in a bakery before she’d married Gideon. Harry knew she’d saved every single coin she’d earned for her dream sewing business. Gideon couldn't take that from her.

“He can.” She trembled. “He’s still my husband...He gets to keep all the money.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“That’s the law.”

“Fuck the law.”

The startled look on her face got his cheeks hot. She didn’t like it when he swore. He averted his eyes and muttered, “Sorry.” He expected her to change the subject, but then she let out a warm laugh. He hadn’t heard her laugh in so long. He lifted his face and their eyes locked again. She was grinning from ear to ear like the little girl he remembered.

“I’ll get the money back for you,” he said.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll kill him if I must.”

“Harry.”

He knew that tone. Her warning tone. “Fine,” he sighed. “Maybe scare him until he pisses his pants.”

She rolled her eyes, too familiar with his violent jokes. “Well, I–” She paused. He knew she was holding something back. He laced his fingers together and leaned forward like he was waiting for her to finish a bedtime story. “I know how...to get the money for my business.”

“How?”

She bit her lip. “Do you remember what happened to my father?”

Her father had been found dead on the riverbank many years ago. Nobody knew what had really happened to him. There had been so many rumours, and Kenny had refused to believe in any of them.

“What does that have to do with–”

“Willem killed him.”

“What?” A shiver coursed through Harry. His eyes went round. “King Willem?”

She nodded.

“How do you–”

“My mother had known all along but she’d told nobody,” she confessed, her voice so quiet it felt like she was afraid somebody could sneak into his house and eavesdrop their conversation. “He...he was a mole. He worked in Edgar’s court and collected information for Willem, but...he wasn’t loyal to either of the kings. Willem found out and murdered him in the forest by the river…”

Harry never would have guessed, but he wasn’t surprised. Willem had always wanted to invade the South, and now his son was doing his job.

“How long have you known?”

“My mum told me on the day of my wedding,” Kenny replied heavily. Her eyes looked even sadder, which he hadn’t thought was possible.

Then it hit him. “Did you know Peach was–”

“Not until I saw her face on wanted signs in the city,” she said, her eyes shadowing. “She could be my ticket to get out of here.”

“What...what does that mean?”

His heart started racing as she clenched her jaw, her forehead creased. He feared what was on her mind, and he prayed she wouldn’t say what he expected her to say.

“I could testify against her. I could tell the Queen that she’d snuck out on the night her uncle got murdered and that you’d been with me. Calanthe would come for you, you know? We can strike a deal with her. The Queen gets her revenge, and we get the money.”

“Kenny…” His lips spoke her name, but it wasn’t her that he saw. It was a stranger. This stranger might look like Kenny, but she certainly didn’t sound like her. The little girl Harry had grown up with and fallen in love with would never do this to anyone. He flinched when she reached for his hand and squeezed. His gaze jumped back to her face, which was now twisted, just like those ideas inside her head.

“She lied to you, didn’t she? She might not be who you think she is.”

He quickly withdrew his hand. “You’re tired, Kenny. Get some rest.”

“Why are you defending her? Her father killed mine!”

“She wasn’t brought into this world to pay for her father’s sins,” he retorted and pushed away from the table. “Are you doing this for your father or yourself?”

Kenny stood up and slammed her hands on the table, yet she still managed to keep the softness in her eyes as she leaned forward and said in hushed tones, “Her father is a tyrant and so is her brother. How can she be any different?”

He turned away, unable to look at her. “She’s not anything like them. She’ll be the saviour. She’ll stop the war.”

He assumed Kenny remembered the prophecy he’d told her that night at Edgar’s party. She’d been so worried about this princess, who was just around their age and had to bear such great responsibility for her kingdom. What had happened to that Kenny?

“It’s been three weeks and the war is bound to happen. Where’s your saviour, Harry?” Kenny calmly asked. “Either she’s in this with her brother. Or she’s dead.”

She’s dead.

She’s dead.

She’s dead.

No. He slowly shook his head. “Don’t even think about going to Calanthe. I mean it.”

“God, Harry, are you even–”

“I’ll get you your money tomorrow. Sleep well, Kennedy.”

And so he left, the same two words following him.