#i did the first one on my phone so it's terrible quality and line thickness

[brigitttt]

because I'm isolating in my room to keep from spreading covid to my flatmate we have a system where I warn her if I need to go (masked) to a shared space (e.g. kitchen) so she stays away from me. but I've gotten tired of just sending a message with words so I've taken to crafting some quality images that perfectly convey ....whatever this is

[imaginesofeverykind]

The Paths That Join Us |A.T| PT.1

SUMMARY: You were supposed to enjoy your trip away with your friends when things go awry and you cross paths with a stranger who is so intent to leave his past behind, he tries to steal your car...

Enemies to Friends to Lovers???? I GUESS?????  

WARNINGS: My terrible editing?? Some swearing I guess lol? Some light violence. 

MODERN!Aegon x F!Reader

PART 1 of 8

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

“— Yeah, I know… You don’t need to remind me, alright? I brought everything.” You sigh in exasperation; you hadn’t even arrived at the lodge and this trip away was already such a chore. If the four-hour drive to your destination wasn’t already a chore, then talking to your friend Julie was even more cumbersome. 

“Right, well you better – Ray’s already here… he’s so down to fuck.” Julie snorted over the phone, among the sounds of distant chatter which only indicated that most of your friends had made it to the lodge. It wasn’t your fault that you were racing out of a stranger’s apartment in the early hours of the morning… well… mostly.

Your eyes were firmly planted on the road ahead, one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding the phone up, you could already feel the expectant gazes of your friends as you arrive to ‘consummate’ the fantasy relationship they had built in their heads between you and this Ray person who they wouldn’t shut up about over the first half of the Summer Break.

“Mmhmm, well you can tell the big fella he is going to have to wait a little longer,” you smiled to yourself hearing the anticipated groan on the other side of the line. 

Finally, you had driven past the outskirts of town and onto the road where only trees were seen on both sides of the divide, a pleasant sight to see. “I’ll be there by dinnertime at the latest. I’ll stop into Oldtown before I make it to the lodge and get some extra stuff, alright?” 

“Fine, you better be bringing the fucking liquor store amount of alcohol with you, or you can sleep outside with the bears.” 

“Oh finally, some actual quality company on these types of trips. That’s so thoughtful, Julie.” You snort half-heartedly, concentrating hard on the winding road, knowing that you were best off to have two hands while navigating the countryside, that, and you needed two hands to function the stick shift, “I’ll see you later, don't start the party without me.” 

Not waiting for a response, you hung up the phone and tossed it over to the passenger seat, feeling more at ease with both hands on the wheel. It wasn’t like you hadn’t driven these roads before, in fact every year at the height of summer and in the middle of winter you and your friends would migrate to Ashton’s family lodge to drink and spend time with each other. 

It was the only time of the year where everyone came together because with half at University and the other half in adult jobs it was just impossible to see each other anymore. 

You leaned over slightly to turn up the music, tapping at your steering wheel as you sing along with your eclectic mix of music. Because of said mix, you were banned from any input or freedom to use the Aux among your friends but that was okay, you were a connoisseur in every type of music anyway so it's not like you would ever miss out. 

The fresh air spilling in from the windows was a welcome one, sometimes the air got so thick in the cities it felt like you were slowly suffocating. But here? It was like you could finally breathe again. 

A deep and contented sigh fell from your lips as the songs faded into one another. You had closed your eyes for but a moment, a second even, to bask in the journey to your friends when it felt like a car appeared out of nowhere as you approached the crossroads that you had right away through.

But it was too late at that point, you did what you could to slam the breaks to alleviate the collision, but you had already impacted, and the rest was a blur.

——————————

Your eyes flutter open, body aching and you were disoriented. What was happening? Was I dreaming? 

It started to slowly come together, your Truck mere feet away from the trunk of a robust tree, but from the inside all looked fine. Your windscreen was unscathed  which was an absolute miracle, but then again, you were driving an older truck. You could hear your Dads voice clearly as you imagined his response to what just occurred, ‘they don’t make ‘em like they used to.’

Clambering out of the truck, you slowly walked to the front of your vehicle to examine the damage. Your dad was right. Only a broken headlight and minor dint to show for the accident, which you couldn’t say the same for the Black Audi. It was totaled. 

“Dude! You realise the Stop sign means stop, or did you just fucking get your license yesterday asshole?” You marched over to the instigator; he was dazed and quite honestly beside himself that his car was fucked. Beyond fucked. It was a miracle that he was unscathed. (If he had a concussion or not that was up for debate.)

“Y-yeah, I did but you came out of nowhere—“

“Are you drunk?” You scoffed, hearing the slight slurring in his words and the prominent aroma of whiskey on his body. Not to mention the bags under his eyes were red and raw. You hadn’t waited for an answer, “your ass is grass man, you're lucky my truck is still intact.” 

He became more alert at the threat, he couldn’t deal with the Police, not right now. “Woah-woah-woah, Just wait… I’m just hungover… I promise.” He began to bargain, his hands out in front of him like he was urging you to relax. 

You turned to look at him, really look at him. And he was a little pathetic looking, shorter than average and he did look like a textbook alcoholic, but you suppose you weren’t one to chastise him. Considering you yourself were hungover. Clearly you were just better at hiding it. 

“Okay… but you still pulled out infront of me you fucking idiot.” You ramped up your frustration as the sentence drew on, it was like talking to a child that didn’t understand that they did a bad thing. 

“Look.. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it —- Here! Look, I’ll give you some cash for your troubles,” he began to pat himself down before locating his wallet in his pant pockets, pulling out what you could only assume was hundreds of dollars in cash. What a weird turn of events, you had thought to yourself. 

Narrow eyes trained on him, you looked between the stranger and your truck gesturing as if you were unsure what his deal was, “dude the truck is fine, I don’t want your money—“

“I need your truck.”

“Excuse me?” 

He had opened his mouth to explain but you started closing in on him and his personal space, “you just fucking caused an accident and you want my truck?” You watched as he raked a shaky hand through his silver hair realizing how bad he sounded. But he was desperate. 

“Yeah…” He sounded deflated, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck in mild discomfort. He didn’t have an argument to counter you with, it was quite the preposterous ask considering the circumstances. 

“You’re insane! I’m going —,” you spun on your heel and started heading toward your truck, you were already behind on time and now this just delayed you even more. You had planned on sticking around for emergency services or even the towing company, but this stranger was not with it, it seemed, and you were better off leaving. You heard him mutter a quiet ‘fuck’ before the gravel scraped under his shoes as he started running toward you and more importantly your truck. “Hey— HEY!” You yelled at him, picking up your own pace in an attempt to beat him to the truck.

He was quick, all things considered and reached the driver’s side by shoving you out of the way. You stumbled back, your footing had slipped on the loose gravel but you recovered quickly and gripped him by the waist, yanking him out from climbing into the driver's seat, he was unrelenting as he tumbled to the ground, gripping onto your legs so that you came down with him. You yelped and started wrestling with the deranged stranger, he was surprisingly weak but then again he didn’t look like he had much meat on his bones. 

You had pushed his face in the dirt while you scuffled with him, he whined and spluttered out the dirt that got stuck in his mouth while you stumbled to your feet and brushed yourself off in disbelief this was how your afternoon was going, of all things. At this point you were ready to put the first half of this day behind you and just be on your way. 

Finally reaching the driver’s side door, you opened it and were hesitating on calling the police or not. This stranger was insane and it never crossed your mind that he could kill you… No, he was too pathetic for that. 

Before you had the chance to climb into the vehicle, he had staggered up and made another break for you. “Ugh you are fucking relentless you are,” You grumble out, thankfully having had the forethought to rip the keys from the ignition in time with him jerking you away from the vehicle causing you to hit the ground with a surprised ‘oof’. 

The door slams while you lay on the ground in momentary contemplation, it wasn’t like he could go anywhere without the keys. 

You staggered up on your feet and tried to open the door as he locked it from the inside, feigning ignorance with a slight pout. He was a ballsy bastard, you had to give him that but nonetheless flipping him off with one hand and dangled the keys in retaliation with the other, matching his same smug expression. 

The both of you were at a stalemate it seemed. 

Truly, neither of you seemed to be in the mood to deal with this, and it was well past the point of calling the police because this man was behaving like an insolent teenager who had his allowance taken away from him. 

His expression was unreadable, but one could assume he was possibly thinking the same thing about you. 

It was a wonder that no cars had driven past the accident, granted this was quite the path least taken to navigate around so it made sense no one had driven by just yet. 

You sighed and ran your hands over your face, the little patience you had was dwindling fast but he had your truck and your belongings inside. 

Matters needed to be taken into your hands, and as desperate time called for even more desperate measures, it was time to think a little more like your father.

Your eyes narrowed at him before you retreated into the tree line, eyes firmly planted to the ground in search of a sturdy branch… Or a rock would work too. 

His eyes watched you from afar, unsure what exactly you were doing, but his patience had also run thin. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He contemplated apologizing, leaving your truck and just dealing with this mess on his own but he had dug himself far too deep now, and jail wasn’t an option for him, although it was enticing to be away from the noise of life—

THUNK. 

He jumped in fear by the sudden noise, turning to its source: it was you, hefty branch in hand beating down the driver's side window valiantly. His eyes widened, “Are you fucking insane?” His voice muffled through the window as you swung once again, bringing the branch down to collide with the tempered glass. 

“Me? Insane? You fucking pull out in front of me, and steal my car? You’re a psycho.” You scream at him, trying once more to break the window but to no avail. You throw the branch to the ground and yell at no one in particular, merely at the situation you landed yourself in. Truly unbelievable. 

You were well and truly stuck, an hour’s drive away from your parents, an even longer drive away from your apartment, no phone, no money in your pockets because it was in the car, a laughable situation at best. So that’s what you did, you simply laughed and began walking away from the situation. None of your friends would ever believe this ordeal happened, in fact it was so insane of a situation that no one would ever believe you but c’est la vie. 

The stranger watched as you hung your head in defeat, dropping the keys on the ground and just walked off without a word. 

Now he felt guilty… He was never one to feel guilty but he really did feel bad, it was his own fault that you crashed into him but he needed to get out and away and your truck was his ticket out since his car was royally fucked. 

Maybe I could hitch-hike? The thought crossed your mind, it was a miracle that this man wasn’t an axe murderer, you doubt you’d be as lucky when the next guy pulls around. 

Whatever the matter, you simply continued in your stride as you headed back into the direction of the town you left not too long ago. 

Fifteen… Or was it Twenty minutes? You lost track of time as you walked in silence. The first car you heard in a long while was approaching, you edged off to the side of the road out of safety of not getting hit but were surprised to see your own truck pull up next to you, the man driving it with an ashamed expression painted on his face. 

He leaned over to the passenger side and pushed open the door for you, “get in.” 

A scoff befell your lips, “that’s mighty fuckin’ generous of you.”

“Listen… I’ll take you where you need to go, I’m sorry for all the trouble.” His apology was sincere, you knew that much. Your eyes scanned the tray in the back of the truck, noticing that there was far more stuff than you remember putting in when you packed this morning, assuming that this guy put his own shit in there. 

“You think I’m gonna let a fucking —“

“Lady, do you want a ride or not?” His fingers tapped the steering wheel, he really had the nerve to ask you if you wanted a ride in your own car. 

“Fine…” You reluctantly climbed in, looking at him expectantly. He returned the same look either in defiance or in an attempt to challenge you before turning the truck around and driving through the windy roads and past the accident he caused. 

It was mostly silent for a while, not even music was playing through the stereo, just the wind filtering through the open windows. You leaned down to pick up your phone and began typing in Julie’s number to explain the increased delay.

The man panicked, thinking for a moment you were calling the police, and with a quick snatch, the phone was out of your hands and thrown out the window. 

You exhaled sharply, not having the energy to begin another argument, “thanks dickhead.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” His response was quick and sharp, wincing ever so slightly that he may trigger your wrath once again. His eyes darted to you, your expression was poise and annoyed, which was warranted, he could admit that. “Where - uh… where were you heading?�� 

You looked at him with pursed lips and a blank expression, “four hours south…. The outer outskirts of Oldtown.”

He blew out a surprised breath, not anticipating the drive with you to be so long. But it was the least he could do, for all the problems he caused you so far. 

“You got a name, or will I just settle for calling you a cunt?” You were looking out the window and must admit that was much nicer of a drive being a passenger and looking at all the trees and foliage. 

“Aegon.”

You turn to him in disbelief, “sorry did you just say ‘egg-on’?”

“Aegon… It’s uh… It’s not from around here.” He shifted uncomfortably, grip tightening on the steering wheel. 

Humming in response you see a small pitstop coming up on the left, “can you just pull over for a second?” 

He was hesitant at first, but nodded and started slowing down so he could pull up safely to which you were grateful for. Once the truck stopped you smiled at him, like lightning striking a tree or a snake striking its prey, your fist snapped forward and collided with his nose. 

His head snapped back in shock; positive he heard a bone break as a distinct metallic smell filled his nostrils. “You broke my nose!?” He shouted, covering his face in pain. The pain that seered through your hand indicated you had definitely broken a few fingers from the assault, but at least it was cathartic. 

“Yeah well… You threw my phone out the window of the car — which you stole, I might add and pulled out in front of me while questionably under the influence. You’re lucky all I did was break your nose… Asshole.” You muttered, opening the glove box and retrieving the small travel first aid kit you kept with you, handing him some painkillers and tissues to clean his mess up while you wrapped your hand. 

This drive was going to be long. 

——————————

“— Pull up into town.” You pointed lazily in the direction of the small-town centre. The sun had begun to set but it was still high enough that it peaked over the trees in a bright golden glow. 

“What — why?” Aegon was reluctant, thanks to your last request to pull over, it had earned him a broken nose. 

“What do you mean why, just fucking pull into town. I need to get shit.” You sounded exasperated, growing tired of his company. Not that the two of you spoke all that much, mostly driving in awkward silence until you finally put your collection of CD’s in the stereo for some relief.

He sighed, and pulled into town at your behest, “You’re not going to punch me again... are you?” 

You turned to look at him as the car came to a stop just outside the country sized supermarket and liquor store attached, it would have to do given your time frame. “If you don’t give me a reason to… C’mon I need you to help me—“

He groaned and threw his head back to rest on the chair's headrest, “I’ll stay with the car,” was this guy being for real right now? You thought. 

“No, you won’t you prick, your face broke my hand and I need help to carry the booze.” It was a question or a favour, it was a demand, that was clear in the tone of your voice, and he heard you loud and clear. Even if it was just so he didn’t get socked in the face again. 

He followed you around the Liquor store, intrigued why you had accumulated so much alcohol in the trolley, it reminded him of a juvenile teens party with the selection you had accrued. 

Whatever it was that you were going too, he wouldn’t mind getting in on the action if there was this much alcohol. 

When the two of you unloaded everything into the back seat, you took the single-handed items while Aegon managed the slabs and bigger items. “Long way for a party,” he remarked, kicking the trolley into the car park, content with dismissing it as you looked at him in disbelief, watching the trolley descend down the small incline before slowly coming to a stop in a vacant parking spot. 

You didn’t say a single word to him as you slowly walked off to the trolley and angrily put it back in its spot with the others, adding extra vitriol in the way you pushed it back and it clattered with the others obnoxiously. 

“That —,” you pointed to the trolley once you climbed back in, “was fucked up what you did. You always put the trolley away.” 

He shrugged in defense, unsure what it was this time you were annoyed about, “what? Its what the people get paid for to do, it's not like it’s a crime.” The truck started with a roar, and he took off back onto the road. 

“How out of touch are you? fuck me…” You were unsure the man you were with right now was even a properly functioning individual with how he behaved. But the fact he drove a black Audi, offered you hundreds in cash for the inconvenience of causing an accident and wore what you could only describe as designer brands. He was rich. So you expected nothing less of his behaviour.

With your directions you had finally and painstakingly arrived at your friend’s lodge, pulling up beside the several other cars that surrounded the front. As the only functioning headlight flicked off with the engine, the door to the lodge opened and out poured your friends, ready to greet you. 

A smile pulled at your lips as you exited out, excited to finally see your chosen family for the first time since christmas last year. 

Pulling each and every one into a hug, greeting their respective partners politely and finally introducing yourself to the so-called-hunk of man called Ray. 

“What happened to your hand?” Julie examined your wrapped hand, making you wince only slightly. 

You considered indulging everyone in the happenings of your morning, but decided against it to avoid the impending interrogation that came with it. 

“I cut it at work — wild, huh?” You dismissed it. The lie wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility considering your job was being a Head Chef. It was only luck that it wasn't your cutting hand that was broken, otherwise you’d be out of work longer than you’d like.

The truck door slammed behind you, announcing the presence of your stowaway as he slowly made his presence known to everyone.

“Oh uh… this is my..” You looked at Aegon, sizing him up to figure out the best way to describe his relationship to you that didn’t look at all fishy.

“Cousin.”

“Boyfriend.” 

You both had answered at the same time with widened eyes.

“Boyfriend.”

‘Cousin.” 

The two of you desperately tried to fix the error you originally made but only made it worse again. It was an awkward silence that followed between yourself and the others, it made you wince slightly in discomfort, but you had dug your grave it seemed and now it was time to lay in it. 

“Anyway… Who wants some booze?” You cleared your throat, beckoning your friends to the truck, you didn’t need to tell them twice as they came crowding like a horde of zombies, while they were distracted, your eyes set on Aegon with a glare. Your shoulders lurched up as you gestured a faint ‘what the fuck?’. Prompting him to silently gesture back to you and pull a face, an additional ‘what the fuck’ to your ‘what the fuck’. 

It was clear that wasn’t going anywhere so you sighed loudly and began to offload your own stuff carefully, not wanting to use your broken hand. In the spare moment where your friends cleared the back seat of all the alcohol, the very stick up your arse lingered in a way you could only assume to laugh at you struggle with your things, after a few moments of nothing he finally breaks the silence, “you mind if I uh… stick around for the night?”

You groaned dramatically, “Yeah actually I do mind — but you kinda just do whatever the fuck you want so I can’t stop you.” It wasn’t venom that dripped off your lips, more or less exhaustion and reluctance. Despite the way you worded things, there was no amount of vitriol that ever compared to the same he experienced in the past, and he was okay with that. 

Silently, you handed an unfamiliar bag to him, assuming it was his own stuff and closed the door behind you, “well if you had an unforgettable and enjoyable day today, I’ve got good news for you — you’re bunking with me.” 

If it was any luck, he’d be gone by the morning and even though that meant your truck too, you’d just be glad to see the back of his head and him out of your life. 

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

Noticing the Little Things

-shows up a week late to Kiss Ryuji Day with Starbucks- I’ve contributed to a fandom event! mo you didn’t contribute shit I’ve contributed! Took a break from Misguided Wingman, so instead of a WIP Wednesday, y’all are getting 6.6k words of fluff instead!

Under a cut cause that’s a little much, and link to AO3 in the reblogs cause tumblr does terrible things to posts with links in them.

Hey, come meet my mom!

Ryuji had sprung the offer on him last minute via dead of the night text. It wasn’t as though he’d been trying to catch Ren off guard intentionally; it was more a matter of this being her first full day off in nearly a month that hadn’t fallen through for one reason or another. Ren had quickly learned that those sorts of days were few and far between, and notoriously difficult to plan around because of it. Even rarer were the days where both Sakamotos’ schedules lined up for a full day of quality time, especially now with the addition of Phantom Thievery. And Ryuji had offered to share this once in a blue moon opportunity with his best friend. Naturally, even as tired as he’d been when the message came through, Ren had jumped at the chance. For once it (mostly) didn’t have anything to do with his crush on his best friend that could have been viewed from space, Ren was just excited to finally meet the woman whose praises Ryuji’d been singing since they met.

The next morning, Ryuji had texted him again uncharacteristically bright and early--especially for a Sunday--hoping to put their heads together for something nice to do for her. He didn’t want her to do a bunch of work on one of her rare days off and Ren didn’t blame him one bit. He pitched the idea of takeout; no effort to cook, no dishes to wash, only trash to take out after. Ryuji shot it down, hesitant to admit that they couldn’t quite afford enough takeout for all three of them this late in the month and even less willing to ask Ren to cover the whole thing. Which meant going out to eat somewhere was probably also a no-go. And then Ren was struck by divine inspiration.

Or rather, he looked down at the breakfast that Sojiro had so kindly prepared for him before Leblanc opened. And then he texted Ryuji.

What if I made curry?

And that was how he ended up spending the rest of his morning at the grocery store, picking through produce with such a critical eye that it would have brought a tear to Sojiro’s. He’d assured Ryuji several times over that it was no trouble, he needed the practice anyway and he’d gotten some sizable bonuses from a couple of his jobs, so the shopping was no issue. Ren sent the list of what he needed and, after a little more convincing, Ryuji had sent back a list of what they didn’t already have in the apartment, as well as a promise to have the kitchen ready when he arrived and to do dishes after all of his friend’s hard work. On top of the rest of his list, Ren added a nice tuna filet for Morgana, who’d be stuck in Yongen all day rather than risk getting anyone in trouble for bringing the not-a-cat to the Sakamoto apartment.

Ren double checked his bags and tried to shake off the feeling that he was missing something while Morgana halfheartedly berated him between bites of fish for being left behind. Halfway down the stairs to the cafe, it hit Ren and he couldn’t help but feel a little dumb for forgetting. His thumbs skated over his phone screen to ask Ryuji a question, only to get a question himself from Sojiro.

“Got everything you need to impress your mother-in-law, kid?” His tone was teasing as he looked over the boy’s armful of groceries. Ren sputtered an objection that was less actual coherent words and more disconnected, indignant noises, red as the bell peppers he’d selected as his caretaker chuckled. His phone buzzed as Ryuji’s answer came in.

“Actually…” Ren managed after the worst of the heat faded from his cheeks. “I was wondering if I could borrow a couple of things?”

-----

“Out.” Ren commanded, brandishing a freshly washed carrot like a dagger and flicking the water off of it at his friend.

“Hey! It’s my kitchen!” Ryuji argued but stepped back anyways with his hands up in a vain attempt to shield himself from the droplets.

“They’re my groceries. Go sit, I’m cooking.” Ren retorted and turned back to the cutting board. Sakamoto-san’s laugh could be heard from the living room, not that that was very far. It was a small apartment and the kitchen and living room weren’t so much two separate rooms as they were one room about the size of Leblanc’s attic interrupted by a short stretch of countertop. When he’d first come in, Sakamoto-san had scooped up the groceries from Ren’s arms before he’d gotten half a word of greeting out, Ryuji had dragged him off for a quick tour of the apartment, and he’d come back to everything he’d need laid out in a neat array next to the stove in the five minutes he’d been distracted.

“He fusses if he doesn’t get to help.” She explained while Ren worked. “He does it to me, too, y’know.” He couldn’t help but wonder with a roll of his eyes where ever could his best friend have gotten that habit from?

“Oh I fuss if I don’t get to help?” The blond asked dryly and then helpfully voiced Ren’s inner sarcastic inquiry: “Wonder where I picked that up?” A smile found its way onto Ren’s face as they continued bantering back and forth while he worked, Sakamoto-san sipping on tea in front of the television and Ryuji leaning on the counter from the living room side to watch his best friend cook.

It was comfortable, but not quite in the same way Leblanc had become; the cafe was a place to rest, to breathe, to hide. His attic bedroom felt undeniably safe, but was somehow paradoxically isolated from the world around it and almost entirely devoid of privacy. The apartment, though… With the sound of the tv providing soft background noise to Ryuji and his mother’s easy conversation and the smell of curry spices filling every corner of the small space, it felt safe in a way that felt like home, in a way the attic hadn’t quite managed yet, in a way his own home hadn’t really felt since he was a little kid. Something tense in Ren’s chest unwound and he hadn’t realized he was humming until Ryuji and Sakamoto-san had stopped talking to listen. It wasn’t even particularly good, at least as far as he was concerned, but it was the only way to get rid of the Velvet Room’s mysterious song when it got stuck in his head like it lived there. The silence stretched for an uncomfortable beat when he realized he had an audience.

“Um.” He glanced up from the frying pan for a moment, then quickly back down to it to hide his blush after meeting two matching sets of wide, brown eyes watching him. Nothing like an unblinking stare to make one self-conscious. “S-sorry. Did I interrupt you two?”

“Oh no, not at all! You have a lovely voice, Ren. Don’t let us stop you.” Sakamoto-san insisted with a kind smile that turned a little too knowing as she glanced over at her son.

“Yeah, man, you ain’t gotta quit ‘cause of us.” Ryuji affirmed, still watching him with a grin and a warm, wide-eyed look that the other boy couldn’t quite put a name to. “And she’s right, you’re pretty good. Hell, maybe we shoulda gone to that karaoke place for real the one time so you could show off.” Heat rose to Ren’s face that had nothing to do with the food he was cooking.

“Well, we could always go back, make that our next celebration after-- uh,” Ren quickly changed course before he accidentally blurted out ‘after the next change of heart’ in front of Sakamoto-san, “after exams. Get everyone together, take turns picking songs, that sort of thing.” Ren suggested. “Of course, that means you’d have to sing, too.”

“No way--!” The blond tried to object before his mother cut him off in her own excitement.

“Oh that sounds so fun!” She grinned more widely, with a mischievous gleam in her eye. Ren had seen an identical look on her son’s face enough times to slightly dread whatever she was about to say. “Maybe you boys could do a duet? I know a few songs that’d--”

“Mommmm!” Ryuji groaned indignantly while Ren smothered a laugh and prayed any color in his cheeks could be written off as a result of leaning over the hot stove.

-----

Ren watched a flurry of movement from where he’d gotten up to stir the curry and break out the pour-over setup. Boss had only let him borrow this one because it had been chipped a few years prior--still functional, but no longer restaurant quality--and because Ren had laid the flattery on especially thick when he begged to use it.

“Ooh, you’re gonna make coffee? I’ll be right back, I know what else’ll go perfect with it!” Ryuji had jumped up and all but bolted for the door. “Be right back!”

“Wait, I was just--” He tried to tell the blond, but the door had already snapped shut before he could finish, “--setting it up.” He sighed and offered a helpless shrug to Sakamoto-san. “It’s supposed to go with the curry, but that’s going to be simmering for a while.”

Sakamoto-san chuckled and smiled fondly in the direction her son had disappeared. “You know how excitable he can be, and he’s been looking forward to introducing us for a couple of months now.” She stood and stretched with a groan, then walked over and leaned on the counter. Ren could practically feel her gaze on him as he worked; even with as warm and casual as the look on her face was, something in her eyes felt scrutinizing. He was being sized up with no idea as to why. Sakamoto-san’s smile stayed in place, as gentle as before when she asked, “why not brew us each a cup anyway? Ryuji’s been raving about the one you made him and how well it’d go with old lady Ueda’s ginger peach danishes since the beginning of summer. And since he’s even less of a coffee drinker than I am, I’m eager to see the master at work.”

“If you want to see the master at work, you’ll have to come by Leblanc and meet So-- um, Sakura-san.” He explained with a nervous, slightly forced chuckle of his own. After a moment of internal debate, Ren nodded. “But I did bring enough for everyone to have a couple of cups. Couldn’t hurt to see if you like it as much as Ryuji does. Maybe I’ll impress you just as much, Sakamoto-san.” That had been exactly why he was doing this, why he had worked so hard to convince Boss to part with even a little of his cafe equipment.

She barked a laugh at that and startled Ren enough that he nearly knocked over the bag of coffee he’d traded away a full week of work for. “Two things. Three, actually. One, please just call me Hana. Because, two, I’ve been impressed with you for months, kid. And, three, don’t beat yourself up if you can’t impress me as much as Ryuji ‘cause that’s gonna be an awfully high bar to clear. I don’t know exactly what you did to do it, but you pulled him out of…” Hana-san trailed off with a sigh, and then continued with a slightly thick edge to her voice, “out of a pretty dark place, y’know. My boy adores you.”

With that and the overwhelming warmth in her eyes, Ren could feel his own throat tightening, but he managed to choke out a weak, “O-okay.” And then he couldn’t force anything else out. How were you supposed to react to hearing your probably-unrequited-crush’s mom tell you that said crush adored you? As if she could read the question on his face, she reached over to clap him on the shoulder encouragingly.

“Don’t worry about sayin’ anything, My sunshine’s told me you’re not much of a talker. Just make sure you keep showin’ him how much he means to you too, alright?”

“I will. Thank you, Hana-san.” He finally replied and got the same annoyed frown he’d gotten from Ryuji two days into their friendship, when he’d met his new nickname with Ryuji’s family name. Although responding to Renren with Sakamoto back then had been an attempt at teasing on Ren’s part, calling Sakamoto-san by just her given name felt like too much.

The door creaked open and pulled her attention off of Ren as Ryuji came bouncing through, nearly forgetting to kick off his shoes in his excitement to deliver the prized pastries.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this one was formal, sunshine.” She sighed. “And damn, I’ve never seen you make that trip so fast. You that excited to show off to your Renren? ” Ryuji squawked in offense and Ren could feel his face flame at how she’d emphasized his nickname.

“N-nah, he could probably sense that I was just about to ask about embarrassing baby pictures is all.” Ren deflected as he went back to prepping their coffee.

The only thing better than the look of utter betrayal Ryuji gave him was the one of unbridled delight on Hana-san’s face.

-----

Dinner had passed cheerfully, if somewhat raucously, as Hana-san and Ryuji regaled their guest with stories about Ryuji’s childhood, and the boys entertained her with stories about their time together since the beginning of the school year. Ren felt himself opening up more and more easily as the meal had gone by and even shared a few stories from his time working at Leblanc, as well as the specifics behind balancing the night’s coffee and curry. As per usual, Ryuji didn’t really seem to be absorbing the specifics, but seemed more than happy to watch his friend talk about something he was enthusiastic about. Ren was even openly laughing by the end of dinner while he and Ryuji recounted the time they had met up for lunch after separately incurring Ushimaru’s wrath by falling asleep in class, then bursting out laughing at each other’s identical chalk bruises on their foreheads. They didn’t mention that each of them still had the other’s half of the subsequent selfie set as their phone’s home screen.

Afterwards, the atmosphere in the apartment settled a little when Ryuji shooed both his mother and his best friend out of the kitchen to sort out leftovers and wash dishes. In the meantime, Ren and Hana-san sat in comfortable quiet in the living room while half-watching the talk show on tv and enjoying the last of the coffee and danishes. Ryuji had been spot-on, Ren noted, the flavor paired beautifully with what he’d been secretly calling the Kidd Blend since he first got his right hand man’s seal of approval. As per usual, even if Ryuji didn’t have a head for the specifics, his instincts were unparalleled.

“He’s got good taste, right?” Hana-san remarked as she watched Ren’s thoughtful chewing. He nodded. Again with that uncanny ability to read him; it would have been unsettling if he hadn’t already been used to it from Ryuji and just figured that she was where he got it from. She cracked a smile after taking another sip from her coffee and said, “I gotta admit, I was skeptical when he said it was good enough to go with our favorite dessert. Figured he was just talking you up again ‘cause I’ve never had a cup of coffee I actually liked. I only drink it if I need the caffeine fix. But this? This is damn good.” Hana-san drained the cup and let out a satisfied sigh before she settled back a little further into her seat.

At that point Ren had been keeping a running tally of how many little gestures and features Hana-san and her son had in common. Despite their differences physically--where Ryuji was tall and all lean, hard lines, Hana-san was considerably shorter than her son and built soft and sturdy--there was no denying they were mother and son with as many quirks and features as they had in common. The same warm, brown eyes that tilted upwards just a little at the outer corners; the same bright smile that lit up their entire faces and laughter that filled every corner of the room; the same animated manner of speaking, all open expression and wild gestures to tell a story; the same bright quality to their voices, loud and boisterous without being overwhelming. The same way of making him feel like he’d known them all his life within the span of a few hours. That last one was about when he’d lost count, and therefore couldn’t say where he was when he noted that even with the difference in their specific posture, the two even relaxed the same way when they sat. Ryuji tended to sprawl out and Hana-san seemed more comfortable curling up when she sat, but they both had something loose and open about the way they sat, something oddly approachable.

“You’re always welcome to come by Leblanc, Hana-san.” Ren said with a smile, then added somewhat proudly, “Although I’ll have to direct Boss since Ryuji only gets coffee when I make it.”

“We’ll see if I get some time. And seriously, kid, just Hana is fine. I’ve heard enough about you from Ryuji that I feel like I already know you.” She insisted.

“Wh- really?” His head snapped up from his drink. He knew that he and Ryuji were best friends, probably the closest friends that either of them had ever had. But he hadn’t actually thought about the fact that that meant Ryuji talked about him to other people. It was probably silly the way something that obvious could warm him from the inside and fill his chest with butterflies, but it did.

“Oh yeah. Honestly, I knew I liked you before he ever even said your name. It was like out of nowhere his grades started picking back up, I wasn’t getting any more calls about him skipping classes, he seemed motivated again, like he hadn’t been since…” Hana-san looked over at Ryuji, busy and oblivious in the kitchen, as her face darkened and her voice dropped before she continued, “since before that sonofabitch broke my boy’s leg.” The bitterness passed after a moment and she fixed Ren with a gaze brimming with that same overwhelming warmth and kindness from before. “I knew that whoever it was that brought my boy’s smile back… that was someone I wanted to meet, y’know? That was someone I wanted to thank. So, thanks Ren. You brought my sunshine back.”

“I… You’re welcome.” Ren mumbled. “It’s not…” He stopped himself from saying it wasn’t a big deal because that definitely wasn’t true. “I mean, he did just as much for me.” Then he took a sip from his coffee, at a loss for what else to say.

“I’m sure he did, he’s a good boy. But this is me thanking you, not him.” She shrugged as she watched him drink and her smile went crooked as her voice took on a teasing lilt. “Still, I guess if Hana is too informal for you, you could always just call me Mom. Might as well get in the habit now, right?”

So. Hot coffee coming out of one’s nose was very painful. That was the immediate sensation that momentarily distracted Ren from the shock of Hana-san’s statement. She jumped up in surprise as he choked on his drink, then quickly grabbed a dish towel from the nearby counter and handed it to him. He coughed a few times and wiped at the surprisingly little amount of coffee that he’d gotten on himself, before finally clearing his throat and wheezing out, “Excuse me?”

Hana-san was very clearly trying not to laugh at him while she gave him another of those warm smiles that just confused him this time. “I know you two are dating, I’m not blind, kid.” Ren’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Hard. It prompted another coughing fit and Hana-san couldn’t hold back from laughing this time. “Even if I was, I still would’ve picked up on it. You two are too obvious. It’s sweet, really. The way you light up when you’re watchin’ him? And the first time I finally got your name out of him, you were suddenly the only thing he wanted to talk about. ‘ Hey mom, I’m hanging out with Ren today, don’t worry ‘bout dinner for me, we’re gonna get ramen. Man, can’t believe Ren’s never been to a real arcade before. His hometown didn’t really have one, so I’m gonna show him my favorite tomorrow. Hey mom, me and Ren are going to the gym today, yeah we’re gonna be running, yeah I’m running again, didn’t I tell you? Nah, I don’t need anything for my birthday, I know money’s tight this week and Renren’s taking me fishing so it’s all good. Hey, did you know Ren hung the moon? Ain’t that sweet of him? I should do somethin’ to say thanks.’ Like I said, kid. Ryuji adores you.” Hana finished softly. Almost ruefully, but he missed that part. Ren’s head was spinning, out of sheer confusion and excitement and terror and hope that he’d been aggressively stomping down for months, as well as the fact that all the blood in his body seemed determined to rush to his face all at once.

“He… told you we’re dating?” He managed hoarsely, eyes flicking to Ryuji still washing dishes and still completely oblivious to their conversation with the water running. Did… Had Ryuji confessed to him without Ren realizing? Had those moments he’d dismissed as wishful thinking, bein’ free and my place is next to you, actually been what he hadn’t dared even hope for?

Had he been dating Ryuji Sakamoto this entire goddamn time without even realizing it?

“Well, no. At first I thought it was because he was nervous about coming out to me. I did what I could to let him know it wasn’t an issue, and since he never really changed how he talked about you, I figured he must have just been so excited to have such a wonderful boyfriend that he just... forgot to tell me.”

Ren barked out a rough laugh and then winced at the way it grated on his scalded sinuses. “Then that would make two of us, Hana-san. If I had realized this was that kind of ‘come meet my mom,’ I would’ve convinced Sojiro to let me bring one of the top-shelf blends.” A hollow laugh escaped him as Hana-san’s face fell.

“Oh. Oh… Ah shit, I’m so sorry! I went and made things awkward with him now, haven’t I?” She winced apologetically and looked down at the dishtowel when Ren handed it back. “And wasted that fantastic coffee on top of it, too. You’re sure you’re okay?” Ren waved the apology off.

“It’s fine, please don’t worry about it, Hana-san.” She frowned at him and he finally relented. “Hana. I just... have a couple questions for him now. That I have no idea how I’m gonna ask.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced back at Ryuji again, who was nearly done cleaning up the kitchen.

“Well, good luck when you do. But I don’t think you’re gonna need it.” She assured him with a wink and a gentle clap on the shoulder. “So, if that wasn’t the top shelf stuff, what was it? Besides still pretty damn killer, obviously.”

“Huh? Oh. Second from the top. Still took some serious convincing and I’ll be working behind the counter at Leblanc all week to make up for it.” Ren flashed Hana a tired smile. “Worth it, though. Every non-coffee-drinker I impress is a win in my book.”

Her laugh in response took the sting out of his embarrassment. And his slightly burnt throat. “Well then, guess I will have to find a minute to come by, enjoy me some coffee, curry, and a captive audience.” Hana grinned and Ren couldn’t help but return it.

“I’ll look forward to the company.”

-----

Rather than walk straight to the closest station, Ren and Ryuji had decided to take the scenic route and loop through a nearby park once first. Ren stuck close to the blond, given that he was a lot more familiar with the area as one of his go-to running practice routes. That and, while it was refreshingly cool for Ryuji outside the apartment, Ren ran colder than his friend and was starting to get uncomfortably chilly. As if on cue, Ryuji fell into step right next to him and threw an arm around his shoulder, and Ren felt himself immediately relax into the touch to leech his right hand man’s body heat.

“I’m really glad you finally got to meet my mom. Glad you hit it off with her, gotta admit I was kinda nervous at first.” Ryuji finally said.

“Really? Why?”

“Well you know after my old man took off, it was just me ‘n her, yeah?” Ren nodded. “Even when I had other friends before… everything, Mom was always my best friend. Lame, right?” Ryuji gave a halfhearted, self-deprecating laugh. Ren nudged his shoulder a little more firmly against the blond, not willing to let the disparagement pass uncontested.

“Not at all, she’s pretty great. Wish I was half as close with my folks as you two are.”

“Right. Yeah, she is. Anyways, yeah, mom was always my best friend. So when you turned up--and it’s not like she said anything so I could be wrong--but when you turned up I think she was a little jealous? Not like tellin’ me not to hang out with you or anythin’, she’s been real glad to see me with friends again! But I was kinda worried she felt…” The blond trailed off, waving his free hand vaguely as he tried to come up with the right word.

“Pushed aside?” Ren supplied.

“Exactly! So even after I knew she’d warmed up to you after hearin’ about you so much, I was kinda nervous that she wouldn’t get along with you. So yeah, I’m glad you guys hit it off.”

“I’m glad, too.” He couldn’t help but wonder if Hana had told Ryuji what she’d told him, how she knew she liked Ren as soon as Ryuji started getting back on his feet again. There was no way she’d told him she was certain they were dating, although that probably would have made bringing it up easier for Ren, if no less awkward. It wasn’t as though he could just blurt out ‘hey are we dating, your mom was pretty convinced I’m your boyfriend and I’m really hoping she was right’. Well okay, he could if he could work up the nerve, but that was a pretty big ���if.’

“Hey.” Ren could hear the frown in Ryuji’s voice and didn’t have time to react before his glasses were being tugged off his face and tucked into the collar of the other boy’s shirt. “You’re doin’ that thing again, where you’re overthinkin’ somethin’ and you disappear behind your damn glasses. What’s up?”

Ren blinked up at Ryuji a few times, barely registering that, huh, that was a habit of his wasn’t it, before the words “Why sunshine?” fell out of his mouth.

“Huh?” Ryuji fixed him with a puzzled look that shifted into one of flushed embarrassment as the question registered. “Oh, right, the nickname. Uh, my hair, mostly.”

“Makes sense. This is gonna sound dumb, but even though I know you bleach it, I was still surprised that your mom’s brunette.” Ren admitted. “I guess part of me was expecting her to be blonde, too.”

“I was actually aimin’ for her color the first time we bleached mine.” Ryuji admitted, then frowned like he hadn’t meant to say anything.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t… I wasn’t always so gung-ho about the whole ‘fine, you’re gonna call me a punk, I’ll give you an effin’ punk’ thing, y’know? That didn’t really click all the way into place ‘til I got Kidd.” The blond took a slightly shaky breath and exhaled deeply before shooting his friend a questioning glance. Ren nodded for him to continue. He wasn’t going to push and Ryuji knew that, but he was definitely curious. “Right. So, this was back when my leg was still healin’ last year. Had a rough day on it, came home feelin’ like ten kindsa shit, like bad enough I went straight to the bathroom and threw up I hurt so damn bad. And as I’m washin’ my face after, I catch how my face looks in the mirror and… and I look like just as much shit as I feel.” Ren could feel how sharply Ryuji spat the hollow, bitter laugh before he continued, “specifically, I looked just like my old man whenever he was hungover. Effin’ hated it, seein’ a face I had damn near blocked out ‘cause it’d been so long since I saw it just starin’ back at me from the mirror.” Ren wrapped his arm around his best friend’s shoulders the same way Ryuji’s was draped across his, then gave his best shot at a comforting squeeze.

Ryuji shot him a crooked smile and brightened as he kept talking. “Anyways, I told Mom what happened and asked if we could dye it the same color as hers. And she was totally down for it. So she went out, got a bleach kit, annnnnd when we used it, we totally overshot it. I lost track of time and turned my hair bright freakin’ yellow and patchy as hell, too,” he laughed. “And man, we laughed harder than we had in months at that. She spent the rest of the night callin’ me sunshine to mess with me, but it was nice seein’ her really smile again, y’know? So when she asked me the next day what kind of dye I wanted to cover it up with, I told her to grab more bleach and we’d try and even it out cause the blond grew on me. And honestly? The name did, too.” Ryuji shook Ren’s shoulder in warning. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

“My lips are sealed. It suits you, though. The name,” Ren affirmed and ruffled his hand through the shock of surprisingly soft, blond hair, “and the look.” Ryuji swatted his hand away with a laugh and let it settle back on his shoulder.

“Yeah. Long as I can get away with it, I’m keepin’ it.” Ryuji stretched and fixed Ren with a look. “Aight, now what were you actually thinkin’ about?”

“Uh, w-well.” Shit. Nothing else came to mind through the haze of mild panic that struck Ren. No excuses, no delays, no deflections. Oh, to hell with it, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Time to just rip the bandage off. “Your mom thinks we’re dating and you just forgot to tell her because you got caught up in being excited about it.”

“WHAT?!” Ryuji yelped and jumped back like he’d been burned. Not the best reaction, but Ren was already determined to just get it all out.

“Yeah. And as soon as she put it like that, I suddenly wasn’t sure that I just… hadn’t realized I’d accepted a confession at some point.” He explained, eyes fixed on the path in front of them. Ryuji laughed, high and nervous, bordering on slightly hysterical.

“Wh-when would I have even--”

“My place is next to you.” Ren’s heart was hammering in his chest hard enough that he was worried it might crack a rib or five.

“...oh. Right. Okay, yeah, that’s… that’s fair.” Ryuji had stopped walking and was frowning at the concrete as he scuffed the toe of his shoe at it. “So you been tryin’ to let me down easy or somethin? Don’t worry about it, dude, that wasn’t…” He trailed off and Ren finally turned to face him. The pang that squeezed his heart left him breathless when he saw the look of utter disappointment on Ryuji’s face. Ren was frozen, even as something in the back of his head screamed at him to fix it before Ryuji got the wrong idea. The blond straightened up with a laugh that sounded more like a scoff and ran a hand through his hair. “Man, that explains all the ‘you know you can tell me anything’ conversations she’s been tryin’ to have lately. I was worried she’d caught on about the Phantom Thief stuff, but she just… God, do I even wanna know what you told her?”

Ren practically jumped at the opening. “I told her if I’d known it was that kind of ‘hey come meet my mom’ that I would have brought better coffee.” He tried to look his best friend in the eye as he confessed, but just… couldn’t. Better to focus on getting the words out however he could. “I haven’t been trying to figure out how to let you down easy, kind of the opposite, actually.” He did his best to ignore the quiet intake of breath that got, or the way Ryuji tensed in his peripheral vision. “I’ve been working up the courage to ask and bracing myself for when you shot me down. I… I really like you.”

“...forreal?” Ryuji’s voice was soft with disbelief.

“Yeah.” Ren’s voice cracked, nerves finally getting the better of him. But he could at least answer, even if he still couldn’t look the other boy in the eye.

“You… You like me? Like, like-like me?”

“Yes. Have for a while, now. I might... “ Ren cleared his throat and tried again. “I might be a little past just like at this point, honestly.”

A breathless, disbelieving chuckle followed by, “Seriously?”

“Mhm.” A stiff nod.

“Why?” Ryuji’s tone had escalated from disbelief to full-on incredulity, sapping away all of Ren’s nerves in favor of sheer indignance when he whipped around to his best friend.

“How could I not?!” Ren nearly shouted, just self-aware enough to be glad they were alone. “You’re brave, so goddamn brave and so goddamn kind, protecting people--total strangers, sometimes--and expecting nothing back! You’re ridiculously good-looking and have an amazing smile and the best laugh I’ve ever heard, not to mention you’re just so damn compassionate? Quick to help people and even quicker to apologize when you mess up, even with just the little mistakes, and you always mean it and try to do better. And I’ve never in my life met someone as loyal as you, never had someone that I could rely on the way I rely on you!” Ren ranted, slightly light-headed from how quickly the words just poured out of him. “For fuck’s sake, you saved my life when I was just some guy off the street! The Phantom Thieves wouldn’t exist at all without you, and I… I would have spent the rest of the year, maybe even the rest of my life hiding if I hadn’t met you--”

“Hey.”

“Huh?” When had Ryuji stepped so close? How had Ren not noticed those warm, calloused hands cupping his jaw and tipping his head back up to look back at a face that wore an achingly-sweet expression of pure admiration, tempered only by the hint of apprehension at the corners of those warm, brown eyes Ren was such a sucker for?

“I’m gonna kiss you now. Izzat okay?”

“Please.” Ren whispered as his heart jumped up into his throat and Ryuji’s flushed face drew closer.

Both boys’ eyes fluttered shut at the first brush of lips, soft and deliberate. The second was just as gentle, just as careful, even as Ryuji’s fingers twitched against Ren’s jaw like it was taking all of his self control not to just dive in. Like he’d been thinking about how to do it right, planning it for a while, and that thought made Ren’s stomach flip. He slid one hand up the nape of Ryuji’s neck and buried his fingers in his hair at the third kiss, and wrapped his free arm around the blond’s waist to pull him closer partway through the fourth. From there, he lost count. It was the seventh or eighth kiss that found him pressed up against a nearby tree, and something like the thirteenth before nerves gave way to excitement and one of them deepened the kiss. He stopped counting entirely after the cautious sweep of Ryuji’s tongue over his lower lip temporarily shorted out his higher brain functions and pulled an embarrassingly needy sound from the back of his throat. Somewhere in the distantly coherent part of his brain, Ren made a mental note to start buying gum or mints because coffee-and-curry breath was… not great for kissing. It still took the two of them several minutes to break apart because kissing Ryuji, finally actually kissing him, was so much better than he’d imagined, even after months of daydreaming.

“So…” Ren sighed against the corner of Ryuji’s mouth, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, no room for confusion--”

“Oh my god Renren, seriously?!” The words didn’t have any bite, being equal parts incredulity and laughter as Ryuji shoved gently at Ren’s shoulder.

“I just wanna be sure!” Ren laughed right back.

“Are you effin’ serious, how can you not be-- fine.” Ryuji pulled him into a tight hug, peppering his face with kisses as he spoke. “Ren Amamiya,” kiss, “will,” kiss, “you be,” kiss, “my,” kiss, “boyfriend?”

“Yes.” Ren turned his head to catch another kiss that Ryuji had aimed at his temple, sliding his tongue into the blond’s mouth and kissing him hard enough that his best friend was scarlet when he pulled away. “I would love to.”

Then he kissed Ryuji again. And again. And again.

-----

Eventually, Ren and Ryuji had broken apart long enough to return his glasses and get him on a train back to the cafe. He had been grinning like a dork for the entire ride and practically floated back into Leblanc when he got back, earning a weird look from Morgana on the counter. Sojiro was too busy to notice, nearly done cleaning up with most of the dishes already put away and the next day’s curry prepped and simmering. Ren stepped in, grabbed the washcloth off the side of the sink and started wiping down the counter.

“I can finish cleaning, you go ahead and get home to Futaba.” He insisted.

“Well you’re in a good mood. I take it you impressed the mother-in-law?” Boss teased.

“Yep, I think I did!” Ren chirped from behind the counter, then tried not to laugh. Sojiro did a double take and his face flickered through several expressions at once--sly and teasing, smug triumph, confusion, recognition, and further confusion--as he realized his ribbing hadn’t landed like it had just that afternoon.

Eventually he let out a “hmph” before probably deciding not to ask. “Don’t forget to lock up, and put back everything you borrowed, alright? I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ren waved as the door jangled shut behind him and hummed cheerfully as he worked.

“I take it you two idiots finally figured it out?” Morgana asked and Ren only grinned. At that point his face was starting to hurt from smiling so much. “Blech, glad I missed out.” The cat stretched languidly before hopping down and trotting up the stairs. “Congratulations, though. Taste notwithstanding, I’m happy for you two.”

“So you don’t want the play-by-play?” Ren called after him.

“I will steal your bed and make you sleep in a booth!”

[firstdegreefangirl]

If you are open to Ted Lasso requests, then Roy Kent/Keeley Jones + sickfic and snuggles?

Oh, nonnie, this got WAY out of hand. But I had SO MUCH FUN writing it, so thank you! There's a lot going on at the beginning here, but I swear there are sickfic and snuggles under the break. I hope you like it!

Read the whole thing in one click HERE on ao3!

The morning gets off to a late start, right out of the gate. The team bus leaves late when they lose Nate again (this year they knew to check the luggage hold, but no one thought to look in the upstairs bathroom, where he was “looking for a little extra privacy, sorry”) and there’s more traffic than anyone could have predicted.

Altogether, it means that the team hardly makes it to Sheffield with time to drop their bags at the hotel before they’re due at the stadium for the game.

Roy tosses a duffel bag onto one of the double beds in the room he’s sharing with Ted tonight (not by choice; it turns out relegation means there’s not enough money in the team budget for all four coaches to have separate suites. Last away game, he and Nate had been roommates, but Ted has some big idea about everyone spending equal amounts of time together in the name of ‘equitable morale,’ and apparently coaching staff isn’t exempt.)

Really, he should have taken the job with SkySports.

At least then, he wouldn’t be pulling a furry green unicorn out of his bag and sitting it carefully by the pillows.

“Security object, Roy?” Ted points from across the room as Roy reaches for his phone. “Respect. No shame in a man seeking a little comfort from-”

“Fuck off,” he snaps, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Phoebe’s mad her mum wouldn’t let her come on a sleepover with the team this weekend. Asked me to bring Captain McKibbin along instead, the little idiot. I … promised to send pictures. As proof.”

“Hey, I get it. My boy’s done many a Flat Stanley in his day.” Clearly, Ted expects him to know what this means, so Roy nods if only to save himself the explanation. “Anyway, we’ve got to meet the fellas in the lobby, head over to the field – pitch.” A full year in, and Ted still struggles with the vernacular sometimes. It’d drive Roy nuts, if the guy hadn’t done so much to help him and his career. “Is, ah, will Captain McCarlson be joining us for the-”

“McKibbin. Captain McKibbin, and he will not. Phoebe says he can stay here, to ward off any bad dream monsters.”

“Well you be sure to let her know that I intend to sleep snug as a bug in a rug tonight. No, two rugs!” Tim points at Roy with both hands, then spins around and opens the door to the hallway.

He still hasn’t gotten a chance to catch up with Keeley before the match starts. She and Rebecca had driven out separately – something about girl talk and lattes – but he knows she’s around somewhere. The owner’s box is a little different everywhere they go, but never too terribly hard to find, and he catches a glimpse of her bright pink peacoat when he looks around during the opening lineup. She's sitting between Rebecca and Higgins, and as soon as she notices him watching, she waves happily. He lifts a hand in response, then tucks it back against his chest, turning back to the pitch and squaring his shoulders as the first half begins.

Richmond is playing well; Isaac has stepped up and really filled Roy’s shoes as captain, and all the lads are on the same wavelength, without having to say much of anything to one another. He hates to admit it, but Roy wonders if the seamless communication doesn’t have something to do with the scavenger hunt they’d hosted in the locker room last night. Ted had blindfolded half of the players, and made the other half sit on the bench and shout directions. The whole thing had been a mess, but then they’d passed around the bottle of vodka he’d stashed behind the clean boots as a prize, and everyone had left smiling. If that’s it, Roy can’t deny the results, but he’ll damn sure try.

That’s what he’s thinking about a few minutes later when he turns around again, looking for Keeley in the stands. He’s always looking for her, when he doesn’t have to be watching every second of the match. She’s almost always watching him right back, before he’s even looking at her. And half the time, he’ll feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. Even if he can’t check it until halftime, he knows it’s a comment on the quality of the plays, or the other team’s kits, or how much she likes the view of his ass from the box.

But now, when he looks, he can’t find her anywhere. He looks again, trying to pick her out in the sea of Richmond jerseys. Most of the faces are strangers, but he can distinguish between them. All the way at the top, where Keeley had been sitting before, it’s just Rebecca and Higgins now, an empty seat folded up between them.

Roy stares for a moment, waiting for her to reappear with a soft pretzel or something. But she doesn’t. Eventually, Rebecca catches his eyeline, and shakes her head. Her lips move, but there’s no way Roy can make out the words. All he knows is that Keeley has disappeared, and judging from Rebecca’s gesture, she’s been gone for more than a few minutes.

Something isn’t right; he can feel it in his stomach. And in his knee, but that’s more from the impending winter. The feeling about Keeley, that sits deep in his gut, twisting and knotting around his organs as he turns back to the pitch.

The lads are lining up the next play, but Ted, Nate and Beard are spread out along the sideline. Roy sidesteps around Beard, almost trips over Nate when he moves back just as Roy passes behind him, and finally comes to a stop next to Ted.

"Coach?”

“What’s up, Roy?” Ted doesn’t turn toward him, but he leans in Roy’s direction, and he knows he’s got the man’s full attention.

He hears the announcer take notice of his new position, the commentary echoing around them.

On Richmond’s side of the field, former team member turned coach Roy Kent is vying for the attention of head coach Ted Lasso. The players are lined up; what could he be saying?

But Roy doesn’t say anything. He just points, arms still folded across his chest, until Ted looks up to the stands behind them.

Both coaches now, looking up at the audience. Surely they’re not surprised at the show of support for the Richmond Greyhounds? They’ve sold out almost every game since their relegation …

The rest of the announcement fades to the background when understanding spreads across Ted’s face. Roy knows he’s seen the empty seat, knows he’ll understand the concern Roy can’t put into words. He raises an eyebrow when Tim looks back to his face, and the other coach nods.

“Just be in the locker room for halftime, yeah? The guys are countin’ on you for a speech to hype them up for the rest of the game.”

Roy jerks his chin up and down, then heads for the tunnel that’ll take him out of view of the crowds. The announcer’s voice comes behind him again.

Coach Kent, now heading off of the pitch. Makes you wonder what’s going on for the Greyhounds. Have they sent a coach away in the middle of a match, or did he ask to be excused? And why? But gameplay continues without him …

It’s only a few steps before he’s in the locker room, trying to shake off the memory of the last time he’d left the pitch before a match was up. It’s empty, no signs of another occupant, but the solitude gives him an opportunity to fish his phone out of his pocket.

No texts, no missed calls. Right away, he dials Keeley’s number.

If you’re looking for the PR Manager for the Richmond Greyhounds, leave a message for Keeley Jones after the beep. If you’re trying to reach your best friend Keeley for a round of drinks, hang up and text me. Oh, and Rebecca? If it’s too long to text, I’ll check my emails soon. Kisses!

“Oi, it’s me,” Roy all but grunts into the speaker when Keeley’s voicemail recording is done. “You’re not in your seat. Not that you have to be, but Rebecca hadn’t seen you, and I didn’t …” he trails off, suddenly afraid of sounding clingy and controlling. “Anyway, call me when you get this.”

He stares at his home screen after he hangs up, a selfie Keeley had nabbed his phone to take. He’s got an arm wrapped around her shoulders and his lips pressed against her temple, and her face is scrunched up in laughter. It’s ridiculous, the first time anyone but a blood relative has ever been his background, but he can’t help smiling at it, even as the worry knots itself tighter in his stomach.

When he can’t stand it any longer, he texts Rebecca.

You seen her?

Her reply is almost instant.

Not since she left. I have her coat, phone is in the pocket. Heard it ring.

Well, shit. She doesn’t have her phone, and as far as Roy knows, nobody has any idea where his girlfriend is.

But then there’s a sniffle from inside one of the toilet stalls. He’d know that sound anywhere; it’s the same noise Keeley makes every time they watch a Disney film together, right before he teases her for crying and she pokes fun right back at how he’s not.

He’d peered under the doors when he walked in, checking for feet, but he knocks on the stall anyway.

“Keeley?” He calls, pushing the door open slowly. Sure enough, she’s inside, sitting with her feet tucked up onto the seat, head wedged between her knees and hands clamped tightly around the back of her skull. “Babe, what’s going on?”

“It’s so … it’s so loud out there,” she whispers, but doesn’t look up. “All the yelling and shouting and cheering. It’s a good thing, I know, that the fans are engaged, but it was just pounding on my brain, making my eyes go all spotty. I tried to stick it out, Roy, really; I know how much these games mean to you, to the whole team. But then I felt like I was going to vomit and-” Keeley chokes on a sob. “I couldn’t find anywhere else quiet to go.”

“Right, well come on,” Roy reaches out slowly and squeezes one of her shoulders. “There’s got to be somewhere better to sit than a men’s toilet stall. You’ve met the lads, they’re disgusting.”

Keeley chuckles, thick and teary, but drops her knees and lets Roy pull her to her feet. As soon as she’s standing, she wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest. It can’t be too comfortable; he hasn’t taken off the Richmond windbreaker he wears for every game, but Keeley relaxes when Roy doesn’t push her away. Instead, he locks his arms around her shoulders and walks them both slowly back until he can drop onto one of the benches. Keeley stays leaned against him, but brings one hand up to cover her eyes where the harsh lighting seeps in.

“Alright, now, what is it?” Roy asks, when Keeley hasn’t said anything for a while. “You seemed alright when we left this morning.”

“I was. Or, I thought I was anyway. Just a little tired, maybe, but that was all. It was fine until the car ride, but then I got really queasy, and my head started throbbing.” Roy reaches up to scratch his fingers gently through her hair and she sighs. “It got a little better when we got out of the car, but then it was just so-”

“Loud, I know,” he finishes for her, then they both fall silent.

Exhaustion. Nausea. Headache. His sister had those symptoms once, just shy of eight years ago.

Shit.

“Keel. You don’t think you’re … You – we – couldn’t be … you aren’t …"

“What?”

“Um, pregnant? I know we’re careful, but …" Keeley cuts him off with a laugh that turns into a whimper, and he tightens his hold on her.

“No. Definitely not. Not this week, for sure. Just a migraine, I think. Used to get them sometimes, but it’s been a bit.”

“Good,” Roy sighs. “I mean, someday, maybe, but not …”

“Not yet,” Keeley agrees, and something goes warm in his chest, knowing that they’re on the same page. Right now, they don’t need to worry about anything except getting Keeley back in fighting shape.

“Have you taken anything?” She nods against his chest.

“This morning, um, in the car. It didn’t help much. Just need it dark. And quiet.”

“OK, that’s alright,” Roy whispers, dropping his voice even quieter. “It should be almost half, what say we find somewhere else for you to hole up before everyone comes barging in like heathens?”

He’s not sure exactly where they can go, but he knows he’s got to get Keeley out of the locker room before they clear the players off the pitch. She shrugs half-heartedly, and lets Roy pull her back to her feet. He doesn’t have a plan yet, but he starts walking them slowly toward the door as he looks around. There are no offices in here, no treatment rooms or storage closets.

He hasn’t checked the time since he found Keeley, but he’s played enough years of football that his body’s internal clock can feel the seconds ticking away. There’s maybe two or three minutes left, and Ted wants him to give the halftime pep talk. If he asked, if he explained everything, he could probably get out of it, maybe trade Beard for next week or something. Keeley needs him.

But the team needs him too.

All at once, it hits him.

Rebecca.

Rebecca doesn’t have a role in the halftime routine. There’s nothing happening on the field and she almost never comes to the locker room before the match ends. And she’s got a car here; that’s somewhere quiet Keeley can sit, at least until the second half gets underway.

He wiggles his phone out of his pocket again and reopens the text thread.

Found her in locker room. Migraine. Can you meet us and take her outside for halftime? Ted wants me to give speech.

Rebecca doesn’t reply, but a minute or so later, Roy hears the steady click-clack of her heels coming down the hall. Keeley whimpers, and he presses a kiss to her hair as the door swings open.

“Hey,” he says, shifting around to look at Rebecca.

“Hello,” she whispers back.

“Hey, Keeley, Rebecca’s here now,” Roy tips his face back down to whisper against the shell of her ear. “Think you can make it outside with her?”

“We can head back to the hotel, Keeley, if you think that’d help? It’s only a few minutes’ drive.”

“Yeah, ‘s quieter there,” she says, but doesn’t move.

“And I’ll meet you there just as soon as the match is done, hmm?” He runs his fingers up and down her arm, shifting away slightly. “Here, want to take my sunglasses, block out some of the light?”

At that, Keeley squeezes her eyes shut and turns her face up toward Roy. He chuckles and slides his glasses over her eyes, then brushes a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Alright then, off you go,” He lets Rebecca take her by the arm and lead her back out of the locker room, trying to ignore the way his heart clenches at the sight of her trudging away, hunched over against her own discomfort.

He’ll be back with her soon enough. But the door has no more than swung shut behind them when it bounces open again. Jamie and Sam are leading the pack, the whole team piling in around him.

As usual, their energy is infectious, and Roy finds himself slapping hands and patting backs as he makes his way across the room to where Ted is bringing up the rear.

“Hey, Roy, you get everything all squared away?”

“For now. Rebecca’s taking Keeley back to the hotel; she’s not feeling well.” He should have known better than to hope that Ted Lasso would ever let anything drop with a simple explanation.

“Well that’d explain the text message I got from Boss Lady asking if she’d be alright rooming with me tonight.” Roy’s eyebrows go up at that. “And I’m guessin’ from the look on your face that she didn’t mention anything about that to you? Aw, geez, I hope I didn’t spoil a surprise or anything. But the cat’s out of the metaphorical bag now, isn’t it? So I might as well tell you that I told her that I was a-OK with switching up the room arrangements if that’s what’s best for everyone tonight. Thataways you can keep an eye on Keeley, and down the hall we can have Biscuits with the Boss: Evening Edition. How’s that sit with you?”

“Honestly, Ted, I have no opinion on what time of day you eat biscuits,” Roy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But thanks. I think. For making sure I can be there for Keeley.”

“We’re all on the same team here, right? What’s good for the goose and all that, we’re at our best when everyone is at their own, individual best. Hey, speaking of, there are some guys in here, waiting for someone to put a little extra pep in their step for the back end of this game. If you’re not up for it, I can see what Coach Beard has up his sleeve, or-”

“No, it’s fine,” Roy cuts him off before the rambling can reach full speed again. “I’ve got this one.”

He turns back to the group, and yells for everyone to listen up. When he’s got their attention, he takes a deep breath.

“What you’re doing on the pitch today, it’s fucking amazing,” he starts. “Not the score, though that’s pretty alright too. But that doesn’t matter half as much as how you’re playing. Hell, you assholes keep communicating this well, you’re going to put us coaches out of a job. I know Ted’s all about the rhymes and anecdotes and shit, but that’s not … I’m not a walking greeting card store,” everyone chuckles, Ted included. “But get back out there, keep working together, and dammit, make the four of us redundant!”

There’s a round of half-sarcastic applause, then Ted steps forward.

“Alright, y’all heard the man. Don’t get tired, get us fire—well, actually, don’t get us fired. That’s not … take the sentiment of what Roy said, but do me a favor and don’t take him literally. I like working with y’all. Anyway, Coach Beard’s gonna take it from here, walk y’all through a couple plays for the second half.”

The players cluster around Beard and his whiteboard diagram, and Ted finds his way back over to Roy at the back of the group.

“You know, if you need to head out a little early today, we can pull through without you. Sometimes a team is strongest when it’s split up to work on all the different things it needs to get done. Like taking care of each other.”

Any other day, he likes to think he’d insist on staying for the rest of the match. But if he’s honest with himself, he knows that he’ll put Keeley first anytime she needs him to.

“That’d be great, Ted. Thanks.”

“Hey, no problem, Roy. I’ll come check up on y’all when we get back?” Roy nods and shakes Ted’s hand quickly, then slips out of the locker room while Beard is saying something about the Sheffield players having “lots of power, like a high-watt light bulb.”

He doesn’t have a car, doesn’t feel like waiting on an Uber, so it’s a half-hour's walk back to the hotel. When he gets there, Rebecca is already waiting for him in the lobby.

“Ted gave me your room number,” she starts, as soon as they’ve said their hellos. “Keeley’s up there lying down. I, uh, I assumed yours was the bed with the unicorn on it?”

“It’s Phoebe’s,” he groans. “But yes.”

“I’m sure.” But she’s smirking like she might not be. “Anyway, Ted’s things are already taken care of, and I think I got everything of Keeley’s into your room, but she unpacked her entire suitcase first thing, so I might’ve missed some shoes or something.”

“No problem. She’ll get them back, I’m sure. Thanks for taking care of her.”

“Anytime, Roy. Really. I’m just down the hall, if either of you need anything.”

Roy nods his thanks and steps into the elevator.

He swipes his key card to unlock the door, then turns the handle and pushes it open slowly. The lights are turned off, and the curtains drawn, so he makes his way carefully, trying to remember if these rooms have any wayward furniture for him to stumble over.

Thankfully, the walkway is clear. He sits gently on the edge of his bed, smiling when the Keeley-shaped lump of covers shifts closer to him.

“Hey, babe,” she mutters.

“Hi,” Roy presses his lips together and pats what he thinks is probably her knee through the blankets. “Feeling better?”

“A little. Rebecca gave me water. And it’s quiet here.”

“Yeah, it is.” He’s not sure what else to say, but Keeley saves him from having to carry on the conversation.

“There’s a unicorn on your bed. ‘S soft.”

“His name is Captain McKibbin,” Roy replies, rolling his eyes even though he knows she can’t see from here. “I’ll tell Phoebe you like him.”

“Please do.”

“Anything else you need?”

“Just you,” she says, and it’s so quietly honest that if Roy weren’t already pretty sure he’s in love with her, it would have sealed the deal. He toes his shoes off and shimmies out of his windbreaker and trousers.

“Alright, well shove over then,” he teases, nudging her shoulder until there’s room for him to lie down beside her. When he pulls the covers back, he recognizes the hoodie she’s wearing as the one he’d crammed into the top of his bag when he packed last night. It’s three sizes too big, and she’s got one of her own just like it, but she looks far better in Roy’s than he ever will.

As soon as he’s lying down, Keeley is turning over and fitting herself against his side, tucking her face back into his bare chest. It’s still early in the evening, and Roy knows that if he falls asleep now, he’ll spend all week regretting it. But Keeley needs the rest, and there’s not much he can do without turning on the TV or lighting up his phone screen.

Besides, one afternoon nap never killed anyone, right?

So he closes his eyes and listens to her steady breathing. When Keeley wakes up, hopefully the worst of the migraine will have passed, and she’ll feel more like herself again. Roy knows they’ve got a pass on team bonding tonight, if they need it, and he doesn’t want to push Keeley into anything she’s not up for. But rumor has it that Beard found a pub with a bowling alley in it, and that’s bound to be entertaining, no matter the scores at the end of the night.

For right now, though, the only thing that matters is Keeley, curled up against him and warmer than all the blankets stacked on top of them. She’s asleep, and he’s following close behind, and nothing matters beyond the comfort they share.

Not migraines, or bowling, or trick plays, or shoes that might have been left down the hall, or anything but Roy and Keeley and this moment together, in the dark and the quiet.

Just them.

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XXX. T la sudo

A/N: Everything will come for those patient enough to wait. (My abuela’s words, not mine.)

BLUE’S POV

Unbelievable. He’s still asleep. Is it possible that this is his longest night of sleep? Would he remember what he said last night? Was he hallucinating? He fell asleep right after. I remember when he told me I had recited Roy McBride’s lines on my sleep and I didn’t remember any of it the morning after. Will it be the same for him?

I have barely slept and as much as he has had trouble sleeping any other night, last night he peacefully slept through the entire night. Every time I’d wake up and look at him, there he was, peaceful, calm and vulnerable and in contrast I was tachycardic.

Harry’s phone screen illuminates with Hampstead name. I sigh. I’m about to pick up and tell them to fuck off and learn to solve their problems by themselves but I know that would be too much. But, come on, Hampstead, it’s Saturday morning and he’s asleep. Thank God it’s on silent mode.

He put it on silent mode! So if someone had called with an “emergency” last night, he wouldn’t have picked up because he was with me. Aw, I’m so proud of him! I want to kiss him until he wakes up and the suck him off to begin his day.

When the call ends, the missed call text pops up on his screen and only then I see the photo he’s got as his wallpaper. That’s me. My pulse accelerates. I don’t want to take his phone but that’s me. It’s a photo from his sister’s wedding and it’s taken from behind me when we were standing under the flower arch greeting the guests. He couldn’t have possibly taken it for he was right next to me but maybe the photographer did and he liked it. Hampstead texts him and the messages pop up on the screen.

Hampstead: Hey, I was just calling to remind you I still have the tickets for Kings of Leon tonight if you want to come!

I don’t want to read his messages. I know that’s terrible. But they’re right there… And they keep popping. I didn’t know Hampstead and him were friends. He’s never mentioned them.

Hampstead: Last week was fun!

Last week was fun? I hope he’s talking about the congress. But a congress, fun? I mean it can be interesting, it can even be thrilling… But fun?

Wait, what is going on with me? I’m not like this. What do I care what Harry talks about with his friends? Even though he’s never mentioned them… But what do I care he’s never mentioned them? Maybe they’re not that close and that’s why he has never said anything. But then, why would they invite him to a concert?

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m looking for Hampstead on Facebook. The only Hampstead I have friends in common with- those being Mario Matteoti and Harry Styles- is a girl, is a very beautiful girl. Sarah Hampstead. She’s blond and her hair is long like mine but straight. She wears it in a braid in most of the pictures and looks like Rapunzel. She’s a first year residence in Anaesthesiology at Grad hospital. The last picture she posted is a selfie with Harry. They’re smiling at the camera having a drink at some restaurant or hotel and she’s wearing her hair on a braid over her shoulder. It’s from last Tuesday when Harry was supposed to be at the congress.

My heart stops. I hate this. I hate that I’m doing this in the first place and I also hate that I’m feeling so threatened but I remember the fights I’ve had with Harry over her calls and how he walked away from me to take her call when we were at Marie’s house.

I don’t want to think this of him but… Why did he never tell me about her? And why does she think it’s okay to call him at those ungodly hours? And why does he always pick up? And why the fuck is she inviting him to a concert?

Last week was fun. Yeah, that drink they had looked like fun and they looked like they were having a good time on that stupid selfie. The congress. It’s impossible, I know it is, but what if the congress wasn’t a congress at all? I need to stop.

I get up from the bed and don’t know what to do. Do I shower without telling Harry? I mean I know he told me not to ask him if I could shower again… But it’s still his house. Well, fuck it, I need to get rid of the dirty feeling of having spied on him and then doubt him. But what if it’s true? Ugh, stop!

I can’t get their stupid selfie out of my head while I shower. Why the fuck did he never tell me about her if they’re colleagues? There’s a voice inside me that tells me he might have done it precisely to avoid this irrational reaction but fuck it. That’s not an excuse. I’m only reacting this way because he hid this from me. Why would he not tell me?

I guess I’ve acted jealous before, with Camille and that dinner of theirs… But I think when he explained it to me I took it nicely and I showed him I could be rational… Plus, does that give him the excuse to just hide things from me?

Last night he told me he loved me. I gotta focus on that. This Sarah Hampstead can text him all she wants, he loves me. He said it last night.

I forgot my clothes on my overnight bag so I make my way outside the bathroom wrapped in a towel and try not to make much noise but the moment I open the door I realize Harry’s not on the bed. I put on clean underwear and my clothes for the day and find him in the kitchen.

He’s wearing thick grey sweatpants and a white cotton long sleeve shirt and looks so cosy my frustration leaves my body through my pores. He grins when he tilts his neck and looks at me.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

He keeps making breakfast. What is he doing? Is there no good morning kiss?

“I’m feeling like fruit and yoghurt. What do you want?”

“Fruit and yoghurt sounds good.”

“Guay.” He smiles.

Alright, so this is what we’re doing. Then I’m starting the conversation.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Very much so.” He smiles but his green eyes signal for me to have a seat. “And you?”

I nod.

“Take a seat, love.” He chuckles.

I walk towards my usual stool on his breakfast bar and sit down in front of him. I add some sugar to the coffee he gently prepared for me but my eyes don’t leave him. He frowns as he munches on his apple.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Okay, he doesn’t remember what he said last night. That or he’s messing with me. Or worse, he regrets it.

“Do you remember how you fell asleep?”

“With my eyes closed.”

“So you don’t.”

“You also asked me to help you put the cover over us” he says “and I did.”

“Right.”

I took a spoonful of yoghurt with pieces of kiwi and apple and fill my mouth. Either he doesn’t remember or he regrets saying it and now it’s playing dumb. Maybe the sex was so good he got confused or maybe I dreamt it. I guess it’s okay if I fell first… Even though maybe he doesn’t fall at all.

“What do you wanna do today?” He asks.

I look up at him and search for the lie on his green eyes. Did he not check his phone or does he not want to go to the Kings of Leon concert?

“What’s going on with you today? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I might have plans.”

“What do you mean you might? Do you or do you not?”

“I mean I might spend the day with my mum.”

“Oh, okay.”

We eat in silence. I might spend the day with my mum for real. I’m planning on going to my dad’s next week during the uni break to study for the finals so it’d be good to spend some quality time with my mum before I leave.

“I’m sure you can find something to do.”

He looks into my eyes.

“Alright, what is it?”

“What’s what?”

“Why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

He sighs but his eyes don’t leave me.

“I just mean that you can… Go out with some friends or friend, if you want, and that’s fine.”

“I know it’s fine. Are you worried that I’m going to stay here crying if you leave or what? I can call Adam if that’d make you happy.”

“He’s got plans with Marie.”

“Right.” He has a sip of his coffee. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t need a babysitter.”

“You could do something with another friend.”

“Yes, I could.”

“Guay.” I shrug.

He narrows his eyes at me.

“All I meant is I understand that people want you around, that they appreciate your presence, you know? It’s nice.”

“Why?”

I look up into his eyes again. His hands are intertwined before him as if he was waiting for my answer.

“Because you’re fun and a good person and a good friend. I think it makes sense that people from your environment want you around.”

“Is that what you think?”

I nod.

“Why?”

“I’ve told you. To me, being with you is… easy and nice.”

“Why?”

Again? He sounds like a three-years-old. I don’t know what he wants me to tell him.

“I guess because of the way you treat me. You’re gentle and caring and kind…”

He lets go of his own hands and covers his mouth with one of them but his eyes give him away. He’s trying to hide a smile. I don’t think I’m saying anything funny. He shuts his eyes and when he opens them, he takes his hand off his face and looks at me with affection and amusement.

“Am I your second boyfriend?” He asks.

My blood freezes on my veins. Please, God, don’t let him ask me about Dylan.

“No.”

He raises his eyebrows questioningly.

“What does it matter?”

“I’m just trying to understand something.”

“Third.”

He nods.

“What happened with the second?”

Thank, God. At least he knows Dylan is not a light conversation. I look down. I have never really told him about Javier and I don’t think I want to.

“He wasn’t a good guy.”

I see concern flashing on his eyes.

“What does that mean?”

What a silly guy.

“Did he hurt you?”

I look away from him and his hand rests over mine. He understood I don’t want to talk about him.

“I’m sorry, Blue. How old were you?”

“20.”

He nods.

“What about sex?”

“What about it?”

He rolls his eyes but smiles.

“Have you slept with many people before me?”

“Less than you, that’s for sure.”

His jaw clenches slightly but he doesn’t take his hand away from mine. Come on, Blue, remember you did not want to be harsh to him.

“Three.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise and his neck moves forward. He’s so silly, he’s making me embarrassed.

“Just us three?”

“Yes, is there a problem?”

“No, baby, three is fine.” His thumb caresses the back of my hand. “So I was the first guy you had casual sex with?”

“Yes.”

He hums.

“Are you done with your interrogation?”

“Yes.” He nods. “And, baby, whatever the second guy did to you, he’s crazy because you have to be insane to let you go.”

“It’s not easy to be with me.”

“Oh, I know.”

“No, you don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

I stop myself from shivering. Can I tell him? Can I fully ruin the morning by telling him I was in love when Dylan died and that’s not going to change? Because then he will feel like I’m only with him because Dylan is not here and that’s mostly true and then he’d leave me because he must know he deserves better.

“I…. I….” I love you, but Dylan will always have a place in my heart. “I can be very harsh.”

He smirks but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I know that.” He tilts his neck. “But when you’re not, you’re funny and smart and unique. You’re lovely here” he taps my forehead with his index finger “here” he taps my heart “and your whole body is fucking lovely too, baby. Just own it.”

“Do you really think that?”

“I don’t think that, I know so and it’s a little sad that it takes a random guy like me to tell you for you to see that.”

“You’re not a random guy.”

He smiles.

“Well, have fun with your mum today then. Next week-” He starts but I cut him short.

“I’m going to my dad’s next week.”

His expression changes and he uses the napkin to clean his mouth but he did it mindlessly for his mouth was already cleaned. That has me thinking.

“But what happens next week?”

“No, nothing.” He smirks.

I give him a look letting him know I am not buying it and he clears his throat.

“It’s just… I knew you were on holidays and I had some days off that I haven’t taken because of my addiction to work” he jokes “so I thought in order to show you that we are making progress and also to spend some time together, I could take some days off next week and… We could do something. But it’s okay, you’re going to visit your dad and I should have probably told you sooner.”

My heart swoons. He used his days off for me. He might not remember what he said last night or he might even want to take it back but this is what someone who really does love spending time with me would do. The next thing I say, I say it in a frenzy, in a love rage, even before I can process it.

“Come with me.”

His green eyes set on me as he considers my invitation. I feel embarrassment flooding my cheeks and my neck.

“To Capitol?”

“Yes, have you ever been?”

“I have not.”

I could have guess it.

“So you’ve travelled all around and you’ve never been to one of the most beautiful cities in the country?”

He smirks.

“Well, I should decide whether that’s true, don’t you think?”

“So you’re coming?”

He weights his options looking at me but suddenly his expression falls into one of disbelief.

“Don’t invite me out of pity, Blue.”

I frown and my eyes narrow. Is that really what he thinks of me?

“I didn’t invite you out of pity. I invited you because I want to spend those days with you. I’m so happy you finally decided to get holidays like the rest of people and the fact that you wanna spend them with me only makes my heart flutter so are you coming?”

My confession makes him smile again and I smile foolishly back at him. The way his dimple forms on his left cheek even before his teeth are shown sweetens my mood and my blood.

“Are you sure?”

I nod.

“What are you gonna tell your dad?”

“The truth. I don’t lie.”

He hums as he tilts his neck and raises an eyebrow, calling my statement into question and I shake my head weirdly amused.

“I got a train ticket for Wednesday morning, do I get another one? Or do I cancel mine and you drive us? It’s a little less than 4 hours away.”

He’s going to say yes, I can tell, I can see it on his face; how is eyes have a sparkle about them and his smile reaches them. He’s loving this. His expressions always give him away. He’s an opened book.

“I don’t mind. We can drive.”

We both grin.

We decide to spend the morning together before I go have lunch with my mum. I might invite him to that as well. Mum might get jealous if she knows Harry’s gonna be spending a few days at dad’s and she only got a dinner. Harry’s on his closest, picking his clothes for the day I guess when I call my dad.

“Hey, dad.”

“Hey, Berry. What’s up?”

“Hi, I was just calling to ask you… Would you mind if I bring someone along on Wednesday?”

“Not at all, honey. Is Jason coming back?”

“No, it’s not Jason.”

“Ollie then? Marie?”

“No, it’s a… It’s a guy.”

“Oh!” I shake my head at how thrilled my dad sounds and the way Harry looks at my with a side smirk. “A guy! That’s great, Berry. Is he a special guy?”

“Yes, dad, he is. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend.” He repeats.

“Yeah, okay, so you’re gonna pretend you didn’t figure that out after the wedding photos I sent you. You don’t go to a wedding with just anyone, dad.”

As Harry makes his way to the bathroom, he walks past me and slaps my ass cheek loud enough so that my dad can hear it and I jump.

“What was that, honey?”

“Uh… It was just… Uh… My notes. That fell. On the floor. Because I’m tidying up.”

Harry looks at me and silently chuckles and I shake my head and swat his arm playfully whilst he walks to the bathroom.

“Oh, okay, darling. Well, thanks for calling and don’t worry about anything, I’ll make sure everything’s ready. Why don’t you text me what food he likes so I keep that in mind when doing the groceries?”

“Well, he’s not picky, dad. I think he’d eat anything.”

“Good then I’ll cook my special rice. I can’t wait to see you!”

“Me neither.” I chuckle. “Bye, dad, love you.”

“Bye, Berry, love you too.”

While Harry’s in the shower, I pick up my clothes from last night and kept them on my overnight bag and make his bed. I try not to think about how crazy we both are. Last night he told me he loved me and this morning I found out that Hampstead is a girl and he acted like he didn’t say anything last night and interrogated me and then I invited him along to my dad’s. In Capitol. Where I met Dylan.

I think I’m going to faint.

I go on The Golden Girls group chat searching for counselling.

Indie: Are you guys awake????

Jason: Yes, everything okay?

Ollie: Awake and ready to listen.

I guess Marie’s busy. Well, these two would do.

Indie: Hampstead is a girl.

Jason: Who the fuck is Hampstead?

Ollie: She’s an anaesthesiologist who works with Mario and Harry.

Indie: Has Mario ever mentioned her to you?

Ollie: I don’t know. I guess he might have.

Jason: What happened with her???

Indie: I know this is bad guys

Indie: But this morning when I woke up she had texted Harry

Indie: And I didn’t purposefully read his texts but they just pop on his lock screen and I couldn’t help it

Indie: I mean I read them unintentionally

Jason: Just stop excusing yourself and tell us what happened

Indie: She invited him to a concert tonight

Indie: And she said “last week was fun!”

Ollie: Wasn’t Harry on that congress thing?

Jason: Shit

Ollie: Stop it. Don’t listen to JJ, he’s a jealous freak.

Ollie’s typing… And I try not to freak out at Jason’s assumption. She is right. Jason is the jealous type. That’s why I need Ollie’s point of view.

Ollie: I mean they work together. Probably they just went to the congress together too. It’s normal.

Jason: Yeah but why the fuck would she text him that it was fun on a Saturday morning? Like days after? She clearly was trying to initiate a conversation.

Ollie: Who cares about her intentions?

Indie: The thing is Harry’s never mentioned her to me

Indie: And he always picks up her calls even when she calls at like 11 pm on a Friday or worse like on AM on Saturday morning like what the fuck?

Indie: And we have even fought over her calls and he’s picked up.

Ollie’s typing… Jason’s typing…

Jason: I just searched her on Facebook. You’re prettier.

I smile at his attempt.

Ollie: Talk to him.

It’s Ollie’s words that have me thinking. Talk to him. So she thinks there’s something to talk about. And Ollie’s laidback and she is not one bit jealous but she also found it weird. Shit.

Harry’s phone rings and my eyes inevitably search the screen. It’s from the hospital.

“Baby!” Harry yells from the bathroom. “Can you see who’s calling?”

“It’s from the hospital.” I let him know.

“Fuck” the shower stops “can you pick up and tell them to hold on a sec?”

“Sure.”

I pick up the call and bring his phone to my ear.

“Hi, Harry will be with you in a second. He asked me to tell you to please hold on.”

“Uh…” A female voice answers. “Excuse me, who are you?”

“I’m…” I cover the microphone with my hand and talk to Harry “she asked me who I am.”

“Well, tell her.” He laughs. “Who is she?”

“I’m his girlfriend. He asks who are you?”

“His girlfriend?” She sounds surprised. “Oh, I… I didn’t know he…”

“He’s here.” I cut her short.

Harry is smiling when he brings the phone to his ear.

“Hi, sorry, I was in the shower.” He listens. “Oh, hi, Hampstead. What’s up?” He listens.

So Hampstead. What a surprise! And she didn’t know he had a girlfriend, of course.

“Uh… I think that was Danny. I didn’t work yesterday so I am not sure. You should probably ask him. I think he’s on call so send a message to his pager.” He nods as if Hampstead could see him. “Yeah, no problem. Bye, Hampstead. Have a nice day.”

I scroll senseless shit on Twitter so I don’t snap at him. I need to calm down. I need to control this fucking oppressive feeling on my chest but my mind is racing.

Why did he not tell me about her? I think they must be friends or at least friendly if she thinks it’s okay to call him when he’s off duty, especially when freaking professor Gibbins is on call and is the one signing that patients’ paperwork. And he even gives explanations on why he doesn’t pick up on the first tone when he’s off duty. I was in the shower… What do you care?

And why did he not tell her about me? I mean, even Jason could tell her intentions with a single text. I’m guessing it’s a lot more obvious on a day to day basis… And Harry didn’t catch up with that? Why did he never just casually mention he had a girlfriend? He doesn’t even have to tell her about me, just about the roll. Just to have her know that there’s someone sleeping in his bed already.

We haven’t talked much on our stroll along the park behind his apartment. It’s a nice park, with lots of green and trees and wide white stones path for people to stroll like us, or go for a run or walk the dogs. We’ve past some families too. Dads and Mums playing with their children on the grass and I’ve seen Harry staring at them with a hard expression.

I don’t know what’s going on through his mind but he seems to be as pensive as I am. Maybe he’s thinking about Hampstead too.

“Uh, I did tell doctor Hampstead I’m your girlfriend” I say out of the blue “just so you know.”

He tilts his neck to look at me with a confused expression.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” I frown too. “I mean I did tell you she asked me who I was and you said to tell her.”

“Yeah, no, I know what I said.”

I hum and look away.

“Wait, is that what you’ve been thinking about?”

I look at him.

“Is it not what you’ve been thinking about?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Hampstead called in the morning, she had a doubt about a patient I couldn’t answer and then I hang up. That’s all the thought I’ve given it.” He chuckles.

“She could have called Professor Gibbins… Specially if he was on call… And still she called you.”

Harry frowns as if he wasn’t following me. I sigh.

“She sounded surprised when I let her know I was your girlfriend.”

“Are you serious?” His tone sounds surprised at the realization.

Calm down, Indie. Don’t talk to him in a way you’ll regret, don’t talk in a way you’ll regret. I count to tent in my head. 1, 2, 3, 4…

“Are you jealous?”

I take a deep breath. 1, 2, 3, 4…

“Blue, talk to me.”

“I’m counting to ten.”

“Are you really that mad?”

“I’m not mad.” I stop him right there. “I just feel stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because”

I’m about to tell him last night he said he loved me and… For a second I thought it was true because I love him too but then… This fucking whole Hampstead thing, I just… I am embarrassed that I am more invested in this than he is and I don’t want him to know that.

“Listen, you just never mentioned her despite all the times you’ve talked to me about work and she calls you at very weird times to be work related and… I mean she’s… Pretty.”

“How do you know that?”

He’s not denying it. Sometimes his sincerity is too much. I guess it would have raged me if he had denied it but knowing he thinks she’s pretty doesn’t help my jealous fit.

“That’s what matters? Of everything I said.”

“It kind of does.” He tilts his neck.

“I saw her.” I lie. “On Facebook.” I decide not to.

“When?”

“This morning.” Later on, I will analyse this and realize I’m getting defensive but for now all I feel is my shoulders tensing up and my honour being harmed. “And I saw a picture of you two together having a drink on Tuesday night when you were supposed to be on that congress.”

“Supposed to be?” His eyebrows raised on his forehead. “Excuse me but can I not have a drink with whoever the fuck I want?”

“Yes, of course, that’s not what I’m saying!”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’ve kept this from me for no reason. I mean why didn’t you tell me?”

“So you think just because I didn’t tell you that means I- what? Cheated on you?”

I don’t answer him and his lips part.

“I can’t believe you.” He sighs. “The only reason I didn’t tell her about you is the same reason why I don’t tell anyone at work about you and it’s because you don’t want me to.”

My mouth shuts and my lips purse on a thin line.

“She’s a colleague, just like any other person working with me and I haven’t told you about her because well, there’s not much to tell. She’s just a first year Anaesthesia resident and she’s a bit lost likewise I was when I was a first-year resident and likewise you will be when you are on your first year of residency. So I remember what it was like to be scared, not to know what to do and… She reminded me of you and…  That’s why I help her.”  

My brain is working a mile per hour and it’s hard for me to catch any thought with how fast they just pass and go.

“So what you’re saying is I have no reason to be jealous.”

“Of course, you don’t.”

“Okay, then why didn’t you tell me that she invited you to a Kings of Leon’s concert tonight?”

Every sign of frustration is removed from his expression and instead he looks at me stern but expressionless or at least I don’t know how to read this.

“You read my texts?”

I shut my eyes.

“I didn’t purposefully read them, they just pop in your screen and don’t give me that because we both know you’ve stuck your nose on my texts before.”

“I have never gone through your phone.”

“Oh, no, I know, I wouldn’t be here if you had.”

“But you get to do it?”

“I didn’t! I didn’t even pick it up! It was just there! And it popped, I couldn’t.. I mean I had just woken up, I truly read them without thinking, I would never purposefully go through your phone.”

“Okay, okay” His hands move in the air to stop my rambling. I think he believes me. “And the fact that I don’t even have my messages hidden, doesn’t make you think that I have nothing to hide? I mean I could have them and, by the way, that would be perfectly legit and wouldn’t even mean anything but you’re saying it- they were right there. It’s not a secret.”

“Then why are you not going?” I challenge him. “Kings of Leon are awesome.”

“Would you like it if I went?” He challenges me back.

“This is not about what I want, what I want doesn’t matter here. This is about you. If she’s just a friend and I have no reason to be jealous, then why won’t you go?”

He takes a deep breath and rest his hand on his hip. Now it’s him who’s counting to ten.

“She is just someone I work with to me but-” He raises his eyebrows before he unlashes the beast “I am not an idiot and… I don’t want to give her the wrong impression.”

“Was it that hard to acknowledge that?” I ask him.

“Was it that hard for you not to assume the worst of me without even talking to me? You always do this, Blue. I mean I already knew you thought I was a junkie but now also a cheater?”

Wow, that was low. So he’s going to through that at my face. I already apologized and he knows how terrible I feel about that and now he’s using that against me? I feel a lump on my throat and try to swallow it so I can speak.

“I… You know how much I regret that.”

“Yeah, well, maybe other than regretting it you should stop doing it. Why can’t you just trust me?”

I frown and look down at his feet.

“Last night” I start “you… and I…”

“I knew you would do this.” He cuts me halfway. “I knew that you were going to pick a fight because you got scared last night but… I’m tired of you using me as your punching-ball, Blue. You unleash all your frustrations on me and I thought I could take it, you know, but… I don’t want to… I’m tired of waiting for you.”

“Waiting for what?”

His words hurt me. Deeply. But I try my best to hold my tears at bay. I don’t want him to see me crying, especially because I don’t want him to stay if he doesn’t want to but he just confirmed every fear I’ve had lately. I am toxic. I am bad for him. I am hurting him and he doesn’t want me.

“For you to open up and let me in and trust me but you don’t and… It hurts, Blue… Uh… I think it’s best if we take a little break…”

“No, Harry! I- I’m sorry.”

I wipe my tears as I keep trying not to cry but this is happening. He’s finally doing what he has to do and yet I don’t want him to. I knew this would happen but I thought… I was trying very hard to let him in.

“Please, don’t cry.” He sighs. “This is how you fix everything. You hurt me and then you cry and I forgive you and when I scare you, you do it again but I… Maybe I’m asking too much of you, I’m not saying this is all your fault. I just thought I didn’t need you to feel the same way I did, I thought I could just… Maybe you’re not ready and… I think you have to work on some things before you are.”

“Harry, please… I… I…” My eyes search his and I can tell then that he is indeed waiting, like he said he was and it’s out of respect that I don’t say it.

“What? You what?”

I know what he wants to hear. He’s been wanting to hear it since this morning. He remembers what he said last night, he was just looking for my reciprocation, but I won’t do this to him. I won’t tell him I love him because I’m afraid of losing him.

“I think you’re right.”

I see the air leaving his chest and I feel a punch on my throat when I see the pain in his eyes. If this is what he wants, then why does he not look happy? Oh, right, it’s because I am that toxic to him. I am no good for him but he doesn’t want to let me go because I have become that toxic person that gives him just enough for him to stick around but not what he deserves.

He wants all from me. He told me last night, but I can’t give it to him. I just can’t. Jason’s words swirl around inside my mind and laugh at me. D’you think any other person would have stick around long enough…? He doesn’t deserve this and I love him, I do. But that’s why I’m letting him go.

I don’t even remember how the goodbye was or when he left or if I was the one who did but after crying my eyes out like a dramatic widow sitting on one of the benches of the park, I manage to get my phone out to ask for the girls.

Coco: Dad told me Harry is going with you to Capitol this week so I’m going too :)

How can something happen so suddenly? He was happy to be going to my dad’s this morning and two hours later he just breaks up with me?

The Golden Girls group chat has also been active.

Marie: Let us know when you talk to him!

Ollie: How did it go?

Jason: Bet they’re fucking.

Marie: Jason!

Indie: Can we meet?

Jason’s calling me.

“Fuck, Indie, where are you? I’ll pick you up.”

“We broke up.” I cry.

“Fuck. Send me your location.”

I do and I wait. This reminds me of that time I picked him up in the middle of nowhere after David Dick abandoned him like a dog. Only this time, I’m the bad guy.

I am terrible person and I don’t know what else to do. Maybe I am destined to be alone and maybe that’s not a bad thing. After all, the whole problem was falling in love because then I will be leaving Dylan behind and I know people don’t understand but people haven’t lost the love of their lives. It’s not a fucking easy thing.

But still, Harry doesn’t deserve that I unleash all my frustrations on him like he said I do because he’s right, I do that. I do that all the time and I treat him like shit because I don’t want him to treat me as someone I’m not. I don’t want him to think I’m this lovely person who deserves to be loved because I’m not. I’m the girl who let her boyfriend died.

That’s yet another thing people don’t understand. But Dylan was begging for help. That’s why he kept smoking and that’s why he had thrown his entire life away. It was his way of letting us know he wasn’t okay and instead of supporting him or loving him I just… I kept fighting him and telling him he needed to stop and… I wasn’t what he needed me to be. I failed him. And then he died. And I will never live past that.

The emergency lights of Jason’s car attract my attention and I get on the car and rest my head on the back of the passenger seat. He drives to the girls’ apartment and we make our way inside in silence.

The girls are sitting on the couch with a worried expression on their faces.

“It’s not what you think.” I start. “It had nothing to do with her.”

“Then what the fuck happened?” Ollie frowns.

So I tell them. I tell them about my confrontation and I tell them what he said and I tell them I agree and Jason says then you didn’t break up and I just look into his eyes because we both know that’s not true.

“But what did you tell him?” Marie asks. “I mean when he said all those things about you not being ready and all that? What did you say?”

I shake my head.

“Nothing.”

“Why?”

“Because I think he’s right.”

“He’s not.” Olivia frowns.

I can tell she is angry. No, she’s furious. I’m not used to this reaction from her. Usually, she’s the one who keeps calm and manages to calm us down. Marie is the one who gets mad, she’s the protective one. So to see Ollie like this is new to me.

“He’s fucking not.” She almost yells. “I mean are you kidding me? He knows what happened to you! He knows and he still didn’t tell you he had had an accident himself! And he chose not to tell you that sometimes he smokes weed when he knew that’s why Dylan died.”

Jason’s mouth opens but he doesn’t have time to say anything for Olivia’s palm rests in the air before him as a sign of stop.

“I don’t think it takes a detective to imagine that Indie might have some issues with weed.” She says through clenched teeth. “And you still listened to him and you forgave him and he fucking decided to still break up with you and now you get jealous, once, and he throws all that at you? I seriously can’t believe him! He’s turning you into this monster and you’re believing it and you’re not!”

I frown concern and surprised when she starts crying. Marie’s hand rests on her shoulder as we all remain silent and she just wipes her tears away.

“No, this is not about me.” She sniffs. “It’s just… I’m tired of seeing you like this, Indie. I’m tired of having you thinking everything is your responsibility and I think you’ve had enough! Fuck! And I’m mad because… You… You lost your fucking boyfriend and you would think he would understand some shit is fucking hard for you and instead here I have my friend crying in my house because this fucking selfish idiot made her feel as if she was some cruel person… You’re not.”

Olivia rests her back against the cushions of the couch and takes a deep breath. She sobs a little more and I find myself pouting as I stare at her.

“When Jack left me for Dulce, you were there for me. When my parents got a divorce, you were there for me. When my brother had the accident, you were there for me.” Her voice croaks again. “And every time Marie’s been sad, you’ve just left everything to come be with her and when David dumped Jason in the fucking highway, who did he call?”

Now I’m crying too and so is Marie.

“So no, I won’t have the best person I know thinking she’s a monster.”

I hug her and we both cry and only when we’ve calmed down, I call my Mum and tell her I’m having lunch with the girls. I promise her tea and biscuits. Selfishly needing some Mum-daughter time too.

After lunch, Ollie falls asleep on the couch halfway through the movie and when it ends, I catch Jason staring at her with a tender smile on his lips.

“She’s fierce, that one.” He whispers.

“Thank God she didn’t have Harry at hands’ reach.” Marie adds.

I giggle softly.

“I know, I wasn’t expecting that.”

Jason’s eyes set on mine and I know he’s trying to read my mind. I let him.

“I think they’re both right.” Jason whispers.

I frown.

“She doesn’t know what we talked about just yesterday.” He reasons. “Maybe if she knew, she wouldn’t have been so hard on him.”

“What did you talk about yesterday?”

“I… I told Jason I felt terrible for the way I treated Harry sometimes. I know it’s just self-destructive shit. I hate doing it but I do and I’ve ended up hurting him. I mean he was right about that pattern he figured out. I do get scare and then push him away and then I regret it so he forgives me and we start all over again.”

“Do you really think you’re bad for him?” Marie whispers.

I look ahead. I think yes. We’ve fought a lot of times. Love is not supposed to be so hard. I think that’s the idea that’s been passed through generations because of Wuthering Heights or Pride and Prejudice but I don’t think that’s what love is. Love should be like loving a brother or a mother. It shouldn’t hurt, it shouldn’t bring more pain than happiness.

“Adam says he thinks you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Harry.” She tells me. “He says he hasn’t seen Harry this happy since before the accident and that he can see the old Harry coming back. When he said that, I thought the same thing was true for you. I can see you, really, fully happy sometimes. So, as much as I was against you two at the beginning, I cannot agree with you on this.”

“We had a fight at your beach house. There I accused him of being an addict and he said he was an addict, but not to weed.” I nod my head. “Now, if this was some sort of toxic love movie, I would be thrilled that he said that but I’m not. I don’t want him to be addicted to me because addictions are not healthy.”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean it like that.” Jason says.

“He did.” I assure him. “We fight too much.”

“You’re a girl who lost her boyfriend and who thinks she doesn’t deserve to fall in love again and he’s a guy who thinks he ruins his sister’s life and put her on a wheelchair so he also thinks he doesn’t deserve love. Why do you think you fight?”

“See? We’re not good for one another.”

“I beg to differ.”

“So if you don’t want that, what do you want?” Marie asks.

“I just want him to be happy.” I shrug. “He’s genuinely good and I don’t want to hurt him.”

Both Jason and Marie smile but I frown.

“He turns you into such a softie. You really like him.” Marie smiles.

“Of course, I do.”

She smiles.

“He told me he loved me last night.” I confess and both my friends grin and get closer to me. “This morning I thought he didn’t even remember but he just thought that it was going to scare me so he didn’t mention it. He did give me a lot of opportunities to tell him myself so I guess he was just finding out if I felt the same.”

“Well, do you?” Marie asks.

“What does it matter now? He doesn’t want me.”

“There’s no way he loves you on Friday night and doesn’t want you on Saturday morning. That’s not how love works.”

I shrug.

“It’s not the same, you can love someone and still don’t want them.”

“You’re head over heels in love with him like a bitch.” Jason states as if he had just realized that.

I sigh.

I don’t deny it.

Yes, I am.

I am head over heels in love with Harry.

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Forty-One, “Finally”

*Gifs are not mine*

Clickable Links:

- *NEW* Becky Magazine Cover from an O.C. Tag Challenge c:

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Warnings: None

Word Count: 10.3k words

Song:  You’re Still The One by Shania Twain, bc duh Just Like Heaven by The Cure (click to listen)

A/N: I am SO excited for you to read this chapter, you’ll soon find out why ;)

                                 SNEAKYYYYYY PEEEEEK

For the fiftieth time in the last two days, I couldn’t be more grateful for how easy things are coming together. I couldn’t be more thankful to have him by my side. It still feels like a dream getting to live this life now, and getting to work with him on the daily, singing Spice Girls amidst stolen cheek kisses.

One puzzle piece at a time, and there’s only one or two pieces left in this puzzle of ours.

"And then my soul saw you and it kind of went ‘Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.’"

                             - Iain Thomas, ‘I Wrote This For You’

There was truly nothing that could rock the waves I was currently riding, and I couldn’t wait a second longer to do the very thing that would make them even bigger. They had only climbed since telling Asher earlier this evening, and the smile that shared on our faces. 

Skye was sprawled out on the sofa when I opened the door, finding it impossible to hide the grin on my face as I read a text from Harry that had dinged a moment before. 

i havent been this excited for somethin in a long time bug. absolutely cant wait to see u on friday, idk if i can wait that long ;) good luck on ur case with Myles 2moro, you’ll do great Becks xo

“Well, look who has a pep in her step, all of a sudden. I don’t think I’ve seen you smile in days, since Harry’s left. What’s the occasion, Ree?” she teases, surprising me with the simple act of muting an episode of The Great British Bake Off that our nights consist of as of late. 

“I may have had a good day,” I suggest with a shrug of my shoulders as I put my coat away in the closet. 

“Since bloody when? You were in a shitty mood the last time we spoke, having ‘Harry withdrawals,’ or something. I’d say the only reason you could be happy right now is if you’d seen him, which would be impossible seeing he’s in Glasgow for another few days,” she mutters. I observe the look on her face change and how her eyebrows dance along her forehead after I turn around to face her, letting the smile lose. “Wait, he’s still there, isn’t he?” she questions, reaching a hand out as if looking for an answer with her body, too. 

My head shakes from side to side slowly as my lips part to show my teeth, a rarity among my smiles, and the expression dawning on her face tells me she recognizes it too. “He came back today, his case finished early, Skye. And I asked him out on a date!” 

“You didn’t?! Ree, you better not be kidding with me, or I’m gonna be really pissed at you!” she chuckles, feigning intimidation in her voice. Hints of the emotions buzzing around inside of me play across her face, meanwhile, my happiness keeps growing notch after notch. 

I don’t know if I can wait that long either, Harry, cause I can’t remember the last time I was this excited. Thank you so much xxx

“I’m not kidding, Skye, and he said yes! He didn’t even let me finish asking and he said yes!” I exclaim after sending the text I had been typing, feeling her arms come around me in a shock when I look back up. 

“I’m so fucking happy for you, Ree, it’s about bloody time!” she remarks excitedly, almost crushing me in a hug. 

“Me too, I can’t remember the last time I was this happy,” I admit softly, relaxing in her arms, even though part of me wishes they were the arms of somebody else. Only an hour later, and I already miss him. Wow, I’ve got this bad. 

“Did you kiss him at least?!”

“No, I’m waiting for the date, I guess. I looked like proper crap today, I’ve been up so late the last few nights prepping for the case with Myles,” I laugh, pulling away from her smell of peaches and chocolate when my pocket dings. 

“First kisses aren’t something you plan, Ree, they just happen out of nowhere. The sooner, the better.” 

“I guess you’re right,” I confess with a smile stuck to my lips. “We’ll just see what happens.”

+

Happiness and its synonyms still fill me to the brim an hour later, and whilst my thumbs flit across the screen of my phone. Her words stare back at me, and unbeknownst to me how, I wish I could see her again already. My footsteps wander down the main hallway, and before I know what I’m doing, I arrive at her door. Low and behold, it’s closed and my heart sinks into my chest when I find darkness waiting behind it. 

miss u already bug xoxo

My words are whisked off to her, and soon my legs are entering the doorway of a certain somebody’s office, although not the one I was hoping for.

“It’s about time you made your rounds and came to say hi to me. Should I feel offended I’m the last one on your list?” Myles teases from behind his desk with a grin lining his lips. 

“Oh, shuddup. Did Becks leave already fer tha night?” I question, letting my shoulder fall to the door frame as I watch the small ‘delivered’ appear under my blue text. 

“Yeah, I ran into her about twenty minutes ago in the break room when she was clocking out. What, didn’t you already see her?”

“Ya, she was me first visitor. I was jus’ hopin’ t’ see her ‘gain,” I shrug, well aware of the terrible job I’m doing of hiding the one hundred watt smile I’m wearing. 

“And does that have anything to do with you blinding me with that smile of yours?” he inquires, raising a sandy blonde eyebrow at me. 

“Maybe it has sumthin’ t’ do with me havin’ a date with her on Friday, as of an hour ago,” I reveal casually with a shrug of my shoulders, feeling the smile grow larger somehow. 

“Fucking finally,” Myles chimes with happiness spreading across his face, and I nod quickly. 

“I know, ‘s all finally comin’ t’getha fer us.”

+

It would be accurate to say that I was still in utter disbelief after yesterday, and rehashing it all to Skye the second I got home only made it all seem more real, and even better. Then again, that was an understatement, because I had been waiting for this for years. I had been waiting to feel this way for too long, and to be able to say and think that I have a date with Harry tomorrow. An actual, proper date. Several times, I cursed myself for not making the date on Thursday night, tonight, because although I had waited painstakingly for five days, another two felt like twenty years.

It was even bittersweet coming to work the next day and not seeing him there, confusing the habits and expectations I had come to know. I still had to finish up the case with Myles that he would finish arguing, with my help, for the next two days. I tried to think of it that way, that the date would be even better after finishing that case, and in a way, signifying my return to Harry. God, it was all too perfect, but it would be even more so if I didn’t have to wait another bloody day, well actually two, to see him. Yesterday wasn’t long enough, but when I think about it, no length of time ever is with him and that’s how I know I’m in trouble.

Also, that I’m walking right into one of my dreams.

+

After a morning spent in court starting off the case, I was back at the firm with Myles after lunch to work on it some more. He had given me more time to myself to work on my own than Harry had, but I preferred it that way. Harry was right, Myles was good to me, and I did learn a lot from him, but it wasn’t the same as being with Harry. Nothing has ever and never will be the same as being with him, certainly not. Also, the whole Family and Interpersonal side of court was depressing as fuck, I found out. The topic littered Harry and I’s conversations the last almost week, resulting in me taking after him and deciding to stay far away from it for now. 

I’m reminded of him everywhere I go, and it definitely makes trying to get my work done all the more difficult. I see his face in the succulent sat at the corner of my desk, behind my office chair where he would lean over me to help me on my laptop, on my sofa where he opened his birthday presents with explosive happiness, and in the reflection on the tall window where I now stand in the same spot as on his birthday when he hugged me against his front with a kiss to my head. A day later, and it all still feels so surreal to me, and I’m not mad about it. I appreciate its distracting qualities, leaving me to not worry as much about what the hell I’m going to wear tomorrow, and messing things up. Skye’s already picked out five outfits for me by now, I’m sure, but I was at a loss last night when I perused my closet. The pressure to impress somebody I’ve already met a hundred times, feels even greater than my second interview I had at the firm, and I tell myself I don’t know why, even though I do.

I want to wear the right thing, and feel beautiful. More than that, I don’t want to mess things up between us, again, no matter how stupid that sounds. No matter how premature it is to worry about right now.

With the happiest of sighs, I wander over to my bookshelf that now sits a dozen law books, gifts from Harry, Skye, Robbie, my dad, and Asher. Perhaps my favorite, to no surprise, is the Lawyer’s Dictionary that Harry got me. It has a section for all of the law jargon, another on many important laws, and lastly finishes with a guide for working the courtroom. I was just getting on my tippy toes to grab it when I feel a pair of arms surround my chest and pull me against theirs. 

“Hiya, brat,” a voice teases, tickling my neck. 

“Harry!” I exclaim with surprise, grabbing hold of his forearms. “Why do you love to scare me so much?”

“I dunno, ‘s fun, and coz yer a brat, so ya deserve it,” he giggles, and finally I relent and do too as I turn around to face him. 

“I am not a brat!” I argue, finding his flushed stubbly cheeks, taking a second to get used to the thick stubble covering them now. 

“Ya are, I reckon, couldn’t even wake me up last night t’ finish tha rest o’ tha FRIENDS episode on FaceTime, jus’ kept watchin’ along without me. If that doesn’t make ya a brat, then I dunno what does,” he tuts, clucking his tongue as he shakes his head at me. My giggles grow into a hearty chuckle as his folded hands settle at the small of my back. 

“Harry Edward!” I scoff, swatting at his chest once again hidden by his Northface coat, matching his black skinny jeans. 

“Hey, ya betta watch that hand o’ yers, bug, and that mouth too.”

“I’m not a brat,” I whine, all facial features falling into a pout that immediately grabs his attention. 

“Rebecca Ann, don’t even start with me. Put that bloody pout away befo’ ya regret it,” he insists, pointing his eyes at me with the smallest of smirks peeking through on his lips. It wins him over and soon his dimples accompany his deep laugh. “Stop, yer not a brat, bug, ‘m jus’ teasin’ ya. Y’know that. Jus’ can’t believe it didn’t even take a week fer ya t’ skip ahead o’ me in our show.”

“The episode was already three quarters of the way over!” I protest, earning a good finger wag at me. I fight back and push against his chest. “And I didn’t want to wake you up, you were so tired.”

“No, it was not! It was only half way through and ya couldn’t even wake me up! How rude o’ my Becks t’ be makin’ up excuses.” 

“Stop being mean to me,” I pout again, beginning to turn away with my arms crossed over my chest. 

“Hey, ‘m jus’ givin' ya a hard time, bug, y’know that. Yer neva a brat, and even if ya are, yer my brat,” Harry hums warmly, the honey returning to his voice in full force as he catches me around the middle with his arms once again. I can’t remember the last time I heard his voice absent of the honey, though. I don’t ever want to. “I wouldn’t want ya any otha way.”

“I knew you were only joking.”

“You li’l liar!” he laughs against my temple and mine joins his ever so contagious one. “Y’know, ‘ve always loved how ya neva take me shit and how ya can dish it right back, Becks.”

“Of course, I figured out at  the very beginning that I wouldn’t get by without it.”

“That’s me girl,” he coos, bringing me forth and round to find his gentle green eyes once more. They smile at me with a sparkle to them I haven’t had the pleasure to know before. I’ve yet to see him look at anybody this way, and I wonder if I have my own special look in my eyes for him, too. If I do, it was born long ago. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you had said you were going to take it easy until Monday, since your case got done early,” I wonder aloud, unsure of what to do with my hands until they venture to his coat’s zipper on their own, pulling it up and down distractedly. 

“I was, until My’ roped me into a partner meetin’ t’day, and I wanted t’ see a special sumbody,” he sighs with an accented roll of his eyes at first, and then they dish out their dazzle on me. “But that’s it, and ‘m off afta that. I hafta do a li’l work fer my case afta finishin’ it, but it’ll only take ten minutes tops. Then laundry, cleanin’, and tha like at home before grocery shoppin’. Only jus’ now got outta bed, tha bloody jetlag.”

“Ah, I see. The work of a lawyer never ends, it seems,” I comment and he nods above me, eyes watching my every move closely. “God, if I knew you’d be here today I would have tried a little harder when I got dressed this morning,” I laugh nervously, my eyes falling to his crimson button-up peeking out from his coat, decorated with gray flowers and foliage. 

“Ya don’t even hafta try and ya look gorgeous, Becks. Promise,” Harry disagrees, the molasses pouring out from his words and into my heart, pushing the very last chip away. Just like that, I’m all his again, but I think it happened long before this and I didn’t know. Daring a look up at him, the dimples couldn’t be deeper in his cheeks as his sunshine smile radiates onto me, the pad of his thumb rough against my cheek. “I sure missed seein’ that smile, ‘s me favourite.” 

My anxiousness carries away with the sunshine, and I’m left with red cheeks and a smile that makes them hurt. It almost pains me to look into his bright sunny eyes, but I wouldn’t want to be looking anywhere else. Finally, I let myself look and with that, I let him in a little further and start to let go. 

“You’re really laying it on thick,” I jest harmlessly with a smile, dragging my finger down the seam of his chest where the two sides of the fabric meet in red cloth buttons. 

“Ya, coz I finally can,” he grins, and the warmth spreading across my body in tingly waves finds an outlet in a soft laugh of mine. 

Anxious yes, but ever so happy while his hand spreads out flush against my back, fingertips moving lazily. I’ve already pinched myself once or twice today wondering if this is all a dream, and shocked that I could ever be this happy. There were so many times I doubted the existence of it and its possibility, and everything it had to do with having this with Harry. Predictably, an electronic twinkle interrupts our conversation, and I’m confused to find him lifting his wrist. 

“Woah, look at the fancy lawyer,” I tease, his already colossal smile growing taller as he flicks a finger across his shiny new Apple watch. “That must have cost a pretty penny.”

“Ya, and My’ dished out e’ry last cent,” he titters, pressing his palm to the shiny surface rounded by space grey edges, returning his eyes and hands to me. “It was his birthday present t’ me, sayin’ that I should be mo’ organized at me age, or sumthin’.”

“Talk about brutal honesty right there.”

“Don’t go bloody agreein’ with him now!” Harry scoffs, but his mouth open in disgust is no more, lined by joyous lips that soon attack my cheeks in kisses. 

“No, no, no!” I beg aloud in shrieks when his quick fingers dance along my ribs, sending jolts of electricity across my body. More exclamations and pleas escape them before I say the magic words, “Harry Edward!” 

“What d’ya want, hmm, Rebecca Ann?” he asks breathlessly, that adorable breathy laugh falling off of his glossy cherry lips. 

“I think you like saying my full name too much,” I contend, giving up and falling into the sage green abyss of his eyes for the hundredth time, or more. 

“Maybe I do. Maybe I like it,” he shrugs mischievously, that smirk glued to his lips that pull me in. 

“Do you like it, the watch?”

“Ya, ‘s nice. I thought ‘d told ya ‘bout it, sorry. Reckon it has helped me t’ stay organized. Speakin’ of, me meetin’ ‘s inna few, so I hafta take off, bug,” he croons with disapproving lips, his bottom lip soon jutting out from the top. 

“Harry Styles, don’t you even!” I threaten rather weakly, the sounds of happiness leaving my lips doing a good job of that. 

“Oh, and what if I don’t? Hmmm, Rebecca Holte, jus’ what will ya do ‘bout it?” Harry returns, wiggling an eyebrow at me that makes my chest rumble with harder laughter. 

“I’ll just have to stop you, but I don’t know how just yet.”

A devilish smirk is born on his lips before my eyes, and soon leaves my view while his face escapes to the crook of my neck, his voice soon tickling my skin, “Lawyers gotta be quick on their feet, bug. Reckon I can think o’ a way ya can make these lips stop poutin’, maybe ya can try it on me t’morro’ afta our date,” he hums against my neck, knitting up his sentence with a whisper of a kiss below my ear.

I feel like a fricken sixteen-year-old all over again, and I’m loving every second. 

“You better get going to your meeting, before you’re late, Harry,” I giggle uncontrollably,  sure that my face is blotchy with red all over because of what he just said. My suspicion is confirmed when he lifts his head of moused curls to look me in the eyes again, and the glint in them tells me so. I feel like I can read him even better now, all because he’s letting me. 

“‘s alright, they expect me t’ be late by now, ‘s a given,” he insists with a comedic shrug of his shoulders, hands wandering away from my back and to our sides where they invite my hands into his. 

“Will you stop and say goodbye this time?”

“‘Course, bug. ‘m sorry I missed ya yestaday, ya had already left afta I had made me rounds,” he assures me, receiving a quiet ‘it’s okay’ from me. 

“Try not to fall asleep at your meeting today,” I joke, watching his eyes roll into the back of his head briefly before he scoops me into his arms for a squeeze. 

“I won’t if ya promise not t’ be a brat anymo’ and skip ahead in our show.”

“Get lost and go to your meeting already!” I laugh, shoving him away by his chest, observant of his mouth relaxing into a disbelieving ‘O’. His laugh echoes mine quickly, only disrupted when my hand comes to his cheek to plant my lips on his other for a few seconds longer than necessary. “I’m so glad you’re back, Harry.”

“So am I, Becks, so bloody much,” he echoes, holding my hands a little tighter in his, even bringing one to his lips for a kiss. “Good luck on yer case, love, for tha thousandth time. ‘m so proud o’ you.”

With that, he leaves me in a puddle of my own surreal emotions, disappearing from my office with a look over his shoulder wearing that smirk. That very smirk I want so desperately to kiss off those cherry lips already. Tomorrow, I think, if I can make it until then. Just one more day.

+

I had been struggling with finishing this last part, or rather redoing it, for too long now. When my eyes again strayig to the violet clock, I was surprised to find that it had been almost an hour, and I hadn’t gotten much further. With my head in my hands, I sigh as feelings battle to be felt within my insides. After today’s argument, Myles and I had to shift our approach, and I still wasn’t sure of how to do that. He had been helping me, of course, but I still felt so lost. It doesn’t help that he’s currently caught up in the partner’s meeting that Harry is also at, and Jennings who is but isn’t a partner. I still don’t get it, even though Harry explained it to me a few times. The next time he does, I’ll have to remember to ask him to dumb it down for me. 

Even after pouring over our shared notes in Google Docs, and my several law books strewn across my desk, I’m at a loss for what to do.

I wish more than anything that it was already five pm tomorrow, and that the only thing I have to think about is my date with Harry. I still don’t know what the hell to wear, or to do with my hair, or how heavy to go with my makeup. 

“Why tha long face, bug?” somebody pipes up, pulling me away from my immersive thoughts. Blinking hard, I tear my eyes away from the laptop screen and look over to the door, but I don’t lift my tired head from my propped fist. 

“I don’t know what to do for my argument.”

“Still? Why didn’t ya jus’ ask, Becks?” Harry hums with an inviting smile, pressing the door to come just shy of closing. 

I shrug my shoulders with a heavy exhale, scrolling through what I have so far, quickly realizing how embarrassing it’ll be to show him. I can’t exit out quickly enough, hearing his footsteps arrive behind me. 

“Hey, what d’ya think yer doin’?” he teases when I switch tabs, quickly feeling the weight of his hand on top of mine, dragging the mouse along. “Don’t be nervous, love, ‘m here t’ help. Always am,” he coos softly, a hand settling on my adjacent shoulder, earning me an encouraging squeeze. 

“It’s embarrassing, Harry. I’ve been sitting here for over an hour trying to figure out what to do, and I have next to nothing to show for it.”

“Relax, ‘s only yer first official case yer arguin’. Don’t be so hard on yerself, Becks. It sounds like ya need a break, bug,” he insists, sending sparks along my left arm as he rubs stripes along the skin. It’s not long before I hear a familiar laugh and slowly, Harry’s dancing figure comes into view. “Yo ‘ll tell ya what I want, what I really, really want. So tell me what ya want, what ya really, really want,” he belts out, his phone blasting the song cupped in his hand. 

“Oh my God,” I sigh with an accidental laugh, my head falling into my hands. I’m too curious though, and so I peek out from behind my spread fingers to watch him sing passionately with his eyes closed while breaking out some amusing dance moves. “Please, stop,” I chuckle, but I’m sure he also hears the lie in my voice. 

“‘m not stoppin’.”

“Please, Harry. You’re going to make me die from secondhand embarrassment,” I confess into my hands, feeling brave and letting my fingers fall down to below my eyes. Mistakenly, his catch mine and they fly back up to cover my eyes, or for the most part. 

“Rebecca Ann, ‘m not stoppin’ ‘til ya come and join me.”

“Then you’re going to be there for a while,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders, certain of one thing and that’s the smile claiming my lips, and the forgotten document staring at me. I’m too preoccupied with the silly, dancing man in front of my eyes, and how somehow this makes me love him all the more. 

“Becks,” he insists, in between singing along to the song very badly. Oh no, I think as his steps near me once again. Before I know it, I’m staring into darkness as his breath tickles the back of my neck. 

“Stop,” I beg with laughs interjected among my pleas. They grow into near shouts and exclamations when his singing is accompanied by his fingers dancing across my sides, and along the slopes of my neck. “Harry!” I almost yell, and when my laughs couldn’t hurt my belly more, it all ceases. Only the singing remains and is joined by his stubbly cheek against my temple, and his arms coiled around my shoulders. “If ya wanna be my lova, ya gotta get with my friends.”

“Make it last forever, friendship never ends,” I continue for him, giggles heard at the end when his nose tickles the corner of my sensitive neck. 

“There’s me happy Becks, ‘m glad I found her ‘gain,” Harry coos, leaving a kiss on my temple before he helps me to tackle my argument. 

Five days did and didn’t feel very long when I think about it now, with his arms wrapped around me as his voice tickles my ear. Too easily, I can remember his absence over those long days, and how effortlessly they felt far longer. I barely survived with his texts and phone calls alone, and it hurts to think that if it hadn’t been for his case finishing early, I’d still be sitting here in my office all in my lonesome. 

Those thoughts are yanked away - thank God - when his voice brings me back, spewing legal mumbo jumbo that luckily nowadays I can understand, but I couldn’t have always said that. Harry makes quick work of what would be my best route to take and how I do that, and for the fiftieth time in the last two days, I couldn’t be more grateful for how easy things are coming together. I couldn’t be more thankful to have him by my side. It still feels like a dream getting to live this life now, and getting to work with him on the daily, singing Spice Girls amidst stolen cheek kisses.

One puzzle piece at a time, and there’s only one or two pieces left in this puzzle of ours.

+

The murmur of voices assaults my ears when I walk through the door, and feel my vision tugged towards the ceiling decorated with chandeliers. A song by Frank Sinatra floats around the entryway, hardly calming my overactive nerves, despite it being a favorite of my late grandpa’s. When I finally reach the host’s stand, the nerves topple out with my words, jumbling them.

“Reservation for H-Harry Styles, please,” I tell the towering, dark haired man. After a few moments tapping away on the kiosk, he grabs two menus and leads me through a maze of linen covered tables sat under the glow of the several chandeliers. 

I try to hide my disappointment when he leads me to an empty, round table, leaving with a few words about my server being with me soon. Another feeling bubbles up inside me, forcing itself to join all of the others mixed together within me. I had a feeling I was too early, I think silently as I shrug off my long pea coat to hang over my chair. Skye’s wishes of good luck and ‘lots of snogging’ float back to me, filling my sad cheeks with another wash of pink. ‘No, you aren’t driving yourself, I’m dropping you off so then you can get a ride home with him, and lay a big one on him when he walks you up,’ she had insisted, but the anxiousness years in the making is doing a good job of making me doubt myself tonight. 

My attention drifts to my phone that is silent with no new messages, but I still check our conversation. The last message was from him:

see u in half an hour for our date bug :) xxx

My thumb scrolls through our previous messages, straying to last night’s that brings a smile to my face. 

I have no idea what to wear tomorrow :/ 

meant it when i said u look beautiful in anything Becks ;) help what should i wear ? xx

I might be a little impartial to that gray suit you wore to my class lecture that one time ;) 

noted ;) i may especially love the color red on u if u wanna know 

Noted ;) Question....

shoot, love 

Skye was gonna drop me off tonight on her way to her boyfriend’s …. Would a ride home be too much to ask?

course not Becks. anytime u need a ride im here. id love to give u a ride home. perfect we can jam 2 some spice girls in the car then ;) 

I can’t wait

neither can i bug :) 

My reminiscing is interrupted when my eyes fall to my outfit of choice, tugging up the scoop neck that Skye insisted wasn’t ‘too slutty.’ Now, I’m not so sure about it, and I can’t decide if I wish he’d show up already, or if I’m not ready. Those thoughts are stolen away when the texts disappear on my phone, his smiling face claiming the screen with a jingle. 

“Hello?” I answer with a gulp, trying to hide the anxious tremble in my voice. I can’t help it, my eyes dart to my wrist, noticing it’s already 6:05 pm.

“Hi, bug. ‘m sorry but tha traffic ‘s horrendous and ‘m afraid ‘ll be late gettin’ t’ tha restaurant. E’rybody else ‘s comin’ home from work too,” Harry explains from the other side, a weird sound taking over his voice. Yeah, we’re not too good at this pretending thing anymore, are we? I can hear the nerves in his voice, probably just like he can hear them in mine. 

“Oh, it’s okay, Harry. I don’t mind at all, just be careful driving,” I respond, feeling a sense of relief at knowing where he is. I know he never would, but it squashes the tiny voice inside of me saying he wasn’t ever going to show up. 

“‘Course I will, love. Thanks fer understandin’. Reckon ‘ll be there in ten. Are ya there already?” he responds, just the sound of his voice doing wonders at calming me down. The only thing that could take it all away is a hug, one of his.

“Yeah, I just sat down.”

“Mmmm, d’ya mind scopin’ out tha menu while yer there? I won’t be too long, we can order once I get there, if that’s alright,” he asks, the sound of traffic sneaking into our phone call for a second. Then, I hear him sigh ‘finally’ and the subsequent thrum of the motor.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you soon then, careful driving.”

“I can’t wait t’ see you, Becks,” he hums before hanging up, leaving me sitting across from an empty chair that I can’t stop picturing him sitting in. 

This is really happening.

Finally.

+

The sound of her voice rings in my ears, and does nothing to stop the anxious shakes coursing throughout my body. Curses fall under my breath as I honk at somebody who pulls out right in front of me, making me slam on my brakes. With a sigh, I turn on my indicator before making my turn.

Pulling my keys from the ignition drenches my surroundings in silence, and reminds me of my heart beating wildly within my chest. Looking up, the decorative windows of the restaurant appear before me in shrouded light. She’s somewhere in there . . waiting for me.

Get it together, Harry. You can do this.

My eyes drift to the rear view mirror and I card my fingers through my hair until it looks decent enough. That’s as good as it’s going to get, I almost mutter while smoothing down my blazer underneath my coat. The bone chilling February night nips at my face once my feet touch the tarmac. Streetlights cast glows all around me, as well as the headlights of several cars. The thumping within my chest grows louder and faster as my feet near the door, and then the stand where a manicured man waits.

“Hi. I made a reservation unda the name ‘Harry Styles’,” I tell him, immediately casting my eyes to the tables within view, searching for her dark chocolate locks. 

“Right this way,” he replies, waving a hand to follow him and I do. He leads me past several tables, empty and occupied, and almost gets me lost in the process.

The last thing I feel is lost when my eyes finally find her.

“Thank you. I-I got it from here,” I tell him hurriedly, holding a hand out that brings us both to a halt. He walks away after a short ‘you’re welcome,’ leaving me there, right where I want to be.

I don’t remember the smile reaching my ears or my heart quieting within my chest as I watch her flip through the menu thirty feet away from me. The prettiest red dress dons her long body, falling just underneath her collarbones and draped over the curve of her shoulders. Her hair falls in dark, natural waves, almost hiding the round opal sitting above the scoop of scarlet fabric. A tingling sensation blankets my body from head to toe, and the image of Becks sitting there waiting for me is burned into my mind.

It feels like I’m meeting her again for the first time, but I’m not. This feels like a new first time, and I know it’s one I won’t ever forget, much like the very first time I laid my eyes upon her. 

It felt like a Monday. For the bloody life of me, I couldn’t remember if it was one at the moment. Is it Monday? I’m not sure, but with the way things were going today, it sure felt like one. The copier had a jam, I forgot the first lunch I’ve made in years at home, and my girlfriend had been annoying the fuck out of me this morning. To top it all off, I had applicants being interviewed today to fill the position of my personal assistant, ever since the last one bolted. She didn’t last more than two weeks, a big surprise. 

Pete had been blowing up my phone for the last ten minutes, and I finally had had enough. Without an announcement or a knock, I stride into his office, fully intent on finding out what the hell he wants. 

“I’m a little busy, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts over the head of dark chestnut locks sat in front of him. Presumably, one of the new applicants for my personal assistant. Hmm. 

“Well, ya kept ringin’ me bloody phone, Pete. So, what tha hell d’ya want?” I insist, throwing up a hand that falls to my thigh with a loud slap. 

Suddenly, I wish the quiet little thing would turn around, and give me a look at her. Shy, she is, it seems. There she sits, tucked away into her little shell, dressed to impress in a dark dress. 

“I’m in the middle of an interview!” he exclaims, certainly making a good first impression with the applicant. It makes me wonder for the tenth time why I bother having him do the interviews, but then I remember that I don’t really give a fuck, as long as I don’t have to do them. 

“What fer, huh?” I tease, instantly getting a snappy response from Pete about it being for me, as if I didn’t already know. But, I did, and am only doing this to bother him even more. 

“Ooo, ‘s it now? Ya get me a good one? Huh, Pete?” I grin, taking a step forward as a hand in my pocket plays with the tiny, metal guitar attached to my key ring. Sticking my head out as I move forward, my eyes dance across her head, and her profile that soon comes into view. “Hullo, love. Gonna be me new one, are ya? Petey here says I can’t keep one fer tha life o’ me, so here he ‘s interviewin’ me anotha one. How’s she doin’ so far, Petey? Think she’s a winna?” I joke aloud, knowing full well the effect my words have on the both of them. 

My subsequent introduction falls from my lips after a retort from Pete, and then the stranger finally turns to look me in the eyes. I rack my brain, trying to put a name to her face from a prior conversation with Pete. Or was it going over her resume when it came in the other day? I can’t remember which, and I blame it on her captivating baby blue eyes, as well as the intoxicating smile that greets my own. Words float from her lips and grace my ears for the very first time, and I knew immediately that she was something else. 

“Hi, my name is Becky. Becky Holte.”

Little did I know how drastically she would change my life, sometimes I thought for the worse, but ultimately for the better. The better, always. I had no way of knowing at that very moment, how many times she would come to save me.

My Becks.

+

The sound of homemade ravioli filled with chicken and three kinds of cheese is almost making my mouth water. It also makes me wonder when Harry will finally be here, and habitually, my eyes lift to look for him. To my surprise, I find him standing a ways away with the sweetest smile stuck to his lips. 

“Hiya, Becks. Sorry ‘m late. Ya look . . absolutely gorgeous, by tha way,” he comments once he’s within a few steps of the table. He reaches across to squeeze my arm before sitting down across from me, a blush pinching his cheeks. 

“Thank you, Harry. I uh, like the suit you went with, you look very handsome in it. Good choice,” I return, failing to not focus on the fast thrumming deep inside of me. 

“Ya, a certain sumbody said it was their favourite on me, so I couldn’t disappoint,” he grins with a shrug, unfastening the button at his waist, exposing the satiny black button-up hidden underneath. 

“Good, I’m glad you didn’t,” I smile, sure of the warmth he can see filling my cheeks, because I can see it mirrored in his own. “I like that you kept the stubble.”

“Why thank you,” he comments, once again rubbing it with his thumb and forefinger, and like before, making me all the more jealous. “I trimmed it up a li’l bit, figured I betta.” 

“Oh, I hope you keep it. I think I prefer you with it.”

“D’ya now, Becks?” he teases with a lift of his eyebrows, his tousled curls almost tickling his forehead, but just barely. “‘ll hafta rememba that,” he smiles, and more than ever, it’s incredibly contagious. My cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling by now, but I don’t even mind. 

“The um,” I begin nervously, my eyes falling to the elegant paper menu opened in front of me. It pains me to look away from him and the sunshine emanating from his smile, but it’s not so bad when I feel his chelsea boot knock against my heel, remaining there against the back of my ankle. “Chicken ravioli sounds good, as well as the margherita pizza, and Cacio e Pepe. Lots of good choices for dessert, too.”

“Mmm, they all sound good, love. Thanks fer lookin’ fer us,” he muses aloud, head bent down to peer at the menu when I glance over to him. 

His habit returns and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and somehow, it makes my smile grow bigger. I didn’t think that was possible, but here I am with aching cheeks. I nudge his foot with mine and he looks up with a question on his face, soon relaxing into a sparkling smile. That effervescent look in his eyes from the other day returns, and if I hadn’t known it already, I truly could look into his eyes for the rest of eternity. The dimples haven’t left his cheeks since he arrived, and his raspberry lips beg at me from across the table. 

“Let’s give it a try then,” he remarks, closing his menu without breaking our eye contact. The words dipped in honey flow from his lips and tickle something inside me, and I want more than anything to hear another meaning in them. His foot nudging at mine in return only makes me give in to it, and so does his wink. 

Our server arrives at our table shortly, and I thank God for the champagne she pours into tall flutes, not taking the edge off fast enough. A conversation blossoms between us about his case, and then mine with Myles. 

“Ya did great by tha way. Congrats on tha win, Becks, ‘m so fookin’ proud o’ you,” Harry grins adamantly, sweetness pouring off of his words that come out with a shake of his head. 

“Thank you so much, Harry. Wait, how’d you know we won it? I was just going to tell you,” I ask with furrowed brows, and receive a measly shrug of his shoulders in return. The look on his face, as if a revelation is threatening to burst from his lips, teases at me until it abates when the server brings us waters and we order. 

“So so bloody proud o’ you t’day, Becks,” he whispers as she pulls out her notepad and a pen. Possibilities blossom within my mind after he sends me a coy wink and knocks his foot against mine again. It doesn’t leave my own throughout the rest of our time there, during our meal and the laughs we share over glasses of champagne, and a plate of Tiramisu that I somehow let him share with me.

+

“I knew it! You were there today, sitting in the gallery, weren’t you?!” I exclaim, mumbling a short ‘thank you’ when he opens the car door for me. 

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs casually, walking around the front of the car as I fall onto the leather seat. 

“Harry Styles!” I nearly shout, if it weren’t for my voice dissolving into a giggle as he slides behind the steering wheel next to me. 

“What? I had some stuff t’ do at tha courts, so I may have popped in fer a mo’,” he explains. 

“Sure,” is all I say as I pull the seat belt across my chest. 

“Hush, and play some music, bug. Here,” he insists, handing me his grey iPhone that looks normal sized in his hand, and then gigantic in mine. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to watch?”

“Coz o’ that right there, Becks. Yer nervous ‘bout it right now afta tha fact, imagine how ya woulda been if ‘d told ya I was comin’ befo’ yer argument t’day,” he returns, pressing buttons on the dash and soon, waves of hot air greet my cold body. 

“I guess you’re right.”

“‘m what? I didn’t catch that,” Harry jests, cupping his ear. A scoff flies from my lips and I playfully swat his shoulder. “Hey, watch it. ‘m drivin’.”

“You haven’t even switched gears, so shut up,” I laugh, catching the eye roll he thinks I don’t see. “I see that eye roll, Styles, you better watch it.”

“You betta watch it, Becks. Betta pick a good Spice Girls song too, ‘m payin’ attention,” he jokes, soon his fingers diving into my side. A laugh escapes me unwillingly, and yanks my eyes over to his giggling lips. 

His name leaves mine in a near shriek, and after a blink, his tickling fingers are gone and lacing between mine. The dark flecks in his sage green eyes catch under the overhead light before it turns off automatically. He gives my hand a good squeeze as his eyes melt into mine, and a zing of electricity runs up my fingers and then my arm. The smile falling into his cheeks mirrors the one that’s been glued to my lips all night, and now grows higher and higher. I return the squeeze just as he looks to his mirrors, the click of the doors locking when he shifts to Reverse. 

It almost hurts to look away, but so many other feelings and thoughts are occupying me as my eyes fall to his phone. Disbelief washes over me as his long, ringed fingers sit between mine. It only grows when he lifts our intertwined hands up and over the middle console, to sit on his warm thigh.

An uninvited wave of pain hits me when I spot familiar sad songs amongst his music library, like the familiar ‘When She Loved Me’ that could make any Toy Story fan weep within seconds of hearing it. It intensifies when my eyes run over the songs Before You Go, Wish You Were Here, Say You Won’t Let Go, and With or Without You. Chancing a glance over at him, he stares straight ahead into the dark night, and a bittersweetness greets me. I try not to let it in, and the realization that perhaps those lost seven months were hell for him too, as were those five days apart. 

“Find it? I have Spice World on there sumwhere. I know I have loads o’ shit on there, sorry,” he comments, turning his head to check his left before pulling onto the busy road. 

“Y-Yeah,” I stutter, looking back to his expansive music library spanning from the 50’s to current music. His thumb drawing circles onto my knuckles brushes some of the sadness away as I bring up the album he speaks of. 

“Bloody hell, why ya choosin’ tha sad one, Becks?” he titters, glancing over to me when we come to a stop at a light. His smile shining back at me whisks away the last drops of the sadness, but hints of it remain with me, begging to be felt. I shrug my shoulders as the beginning lyrics of ‘Too Much’ fills the car, and I only turn it up louder. “I get t’ pick tha next song, if yer playin’ sad stuff. Bloody rubbish you are at pickin’ songs,” he sighs jokingly with a shake of his head, curls tickling his ears and the nape of his neck. 

“I am not!” 

“‘Kay, brat, keep talkin’,” he snickers, earning another scoff from me that he answers with a harder laugh. I cast my eyes to the window with an exaggerated whimper, soon hearing his profuse apologies. “‘m kiddin’, Becks, bloody hell. I already know ya have a good taste in music from all o’ our talks. I like this song too, jus’ thought ya’d go fer some happy songs, seein’ tha . . occasion and e’rythin’. Hey.” 

I answer him with my eyes returning to him, finding his wink before he looks back to traffic, and with my thumb coasting back and forth across his smooth skin. I listen to the lyrics, feeling another squeeze of my hand from him before I change the song. 

“Hey, don’t change it befo’ ‘s done!” he exclaims, and I just laugh, watching his shocked lips soon do the same. 

“Then stop complaining,” I argue, catching another roll of his eyes as the car slows to a stop in front of another light. Joy buds on my lips as the surprise unfolds on his features, meanwhile his eyes crinkle, the dimples fall deeper, and his raspberry lips thin out as a smile consumes his face. 

“I knew ya were sumthin’ special,” he notes aloud with a shake of his head, a giggle emanating from his joyous smile, right before he joins me to sing along to Shania Twain’s ‘Man, I Feel Like A Woman.’ 

His fingers laced between mine continue to send my heart into overdrive as we belt out the song between contagious laughs, and then another crowd favourite, ‘You’re Still The One.’ This one gets me and sometimes throughout the song, I can’t get myself to look at him with the sincerity held in the lyrics. As well as the words that hit too close to home. 

Finally, I can’t stand it anymore, and my eyes drift over to his at the end of the song, finding that his are already on mine. “‘m so glad we made it. Look how far we’ve come, my baby,” Harry finishes with his eyes dancing upon me with that smile dripping with molasses. As if his hand squeezing mine periodically throughout the song wasn’t already making me want to cry, now I really could. I return the gesture before looking out the window, blinking back the arriving tears from my eyes as those lasting words sing inside of my head. 

Yeah, we finally made it, Harry. Belatedly, but finally.

+

“‘s been years since ‘ve been here, hasn’t changed much tho’,” Harry remarks softly, only a few steps away from my door. 

“Yeah, the inside looks bout the same too.”

“‘m sure. Maybe I could see fer meself one o’ these days,” he remarks aloud, and when my eyes drag over to his nervously, I answer him with a nod. 

“I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he coos, rubbing the pad of his thumb along the back of my hand. A shy smile nudges at the edge of my lips as he stands in front of me, my right hand still safe within his. “Well, I had a wondaful time t’night, thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and thank you too. I had a lot of fun . . with you.”

“So did I, bug. ‘ll um, text you later then?” Harry says, clearing his throat awkwardly, his bottom lip soon returning to its nervous spot. 

“Y-yeah, sounds good,” I mumble quietly, eyes falling to my hand that he drops. The absence of his warmth against mine feels very strange now, having been holding hands for the entire drive and subsequent walk up to my apartment. 

“Night, Becks.”

“Goodnight, Harry, careful driving,” is the last thing I say before slipping behind my door, finding Skye perched on the sofa. The monotonous, forced words echo in my ears and my eyes fall to the floor, disappointment flooding every inch of me. 

“So, how’d it go?! Did you finally fucking kiss him?!” she shouts the second the door meets its frame. 

“No,” I admit between shy lips, the steps I take seeming as if they’re from somebody else’s body, not mine. The entire last five minutes feels like somebody else had lived them, not me. No, it can’t end like that. “Not yet, anyways,” I rush, ignoring my shoes I already toed off, spinning around and ripping open the door. “Harry, wait!” I exclaim, finding his surprised expression waiting in front of the lift. 

“What?” he asks, eyebrows bent into a questioning mess. 

“I-I forgot something,” I manage, the words spilling out in a heap while he closes the distance between us, stopping right in front of me. Right where I need him. 

“Forgot what, bug? Did ya forget yer shoes in me car?” he titters, the fluorescent glow overhead picking out the few blonde hairs in his stubble. 

“No . . something else,” I finally admit, taking a step when there aren’t any left. 

The dimples remain set into his cheeks while his eyes fall to my lips and mine raise to his. His facial hair is prickly and dense under the pad of my thumb, and his coveted bottom lip is warm and pillowy. The golden hue of his olive green irises fills my mind when my lips finally meet his, and at last, I find his bottom lip between my own. His sweet giggle sounds against my lips as my fingers get lost in his buttery curls. I come to echo it when his hands shock me with their coldness against my hips, pulling me closer to him. One strays to the back of my head as his lips move against mine, the word ‘finally’ repeating incessantly within my mind. His barely there beard is scratchy against my skin, contrasting to the smooth tip of his nose grazing my cheek. The cinnamon and cocoa powder from the Tiramisu cake tickles my taste buds while his spicy vanilla smell covers me like a blanket. Zings shoot across my palm pressed to his smiling cheek, his facial hair prickly against the sensitive skin. 

Not feeling like what was actually mere seconds later, air fills my lungs when we pull away at the same time, sharp inhales filling the air. Quickly, his sweet giggle joins it, and ropes one of my own in. The tip of his nose leaves trails on my cheek as his forehead falls onto mine. 

“Ya have no idea how long ‘ve waited fer that,” Harry rasps, his warm breath dancing across my lips. His own press a whisper of a kiss to mine briefly, although after that, now I’m sure it could never be long enough. 

“I think I do know,” I mumble, my hand straying to his chin where I brush the tip of my thumb against the flesh of his bottom lip. 

“‘m sorry it took us so long, bug.”

“It’s okay, we’re here now. Finally,” I tell him and he nods, the twinkle in his eye bright as can be. For the first time, I let myself melt and lose myself in the greens of his eyes. Something I have wanted to do ever since the very first time I looked into his green eyes and knew I was fucked. 

“Yes, we are. And look at you, Becks. Ya beat me t' tha first date and tha first kiss,” he smirks with a decadent laugh adorning his words. I can’t help but join him while I twirl a ringlet of his hair around the tip of my finger against the back of his neck. 

“Oh, it’s okay, Harry. You got the first hand hold, and the first Shania Twain car duet.”

A roll of his miraculous eyes accompanies his continuing laugh, “Ya, well, so did you, but I got tha more romantic one,” he insists, words welcomed by my surprised scoff. 

“Wait, you don’t find ‘Man, I Feel Like A Woman’ romantic?!” I nearly exclaim in faux disbelief, my voice softening into a giggle quickly. 

“Only when you sing it, bug,” Harry smiles, thumbing circles into the small of my back. 

“Wait, you got tha first handhold, brat. Rememba, when I visited you at yer old work that day? Bloody hell, you beat me t’ all tha good ones, Becks. No fair,” he snickers with a sigh to his words, the two contrasting the other. I suffice my response with an obligatory nod, feeling my heart just now starting to settle into a regular beat. “Becks, there’s so many things ‘ve wanted t’ say t’ you, and now, I finally can.”

“I think I know how you feel.” 

“First thing ‘ll say ‘s I get tha second date and tha second kiss,” Harry contends with a smirk held in his eyes. 

“Oh, really?” I giggle and he soon nods. He quiets the laugh beginning on my lips with his own giddy ones, my lips molding against his effortlessly. Thoughts blossom quickly within my mind, including why I waited so fucking long to kiss him. If I’d known all of these years how wonderful it feels to kiss him, I never would have waited this long. Our kisses are slow although hurried, our lips searching for the other’s desperately, and somehow perfectly. Years overdue, and it couldn’t feel any more perfect. 

“Fookin’ hell, I jus’ wanna keep kissin’ you, Becks. Dunno if I can stop,” he chuckles, brushing his nose against mine softly. Shockingly, his eyes are even more gorgeous from this view, and I didn’t think that was possible. Evidently, anything is. 

“You don’t have to,” I laugh and he shrugs his shoulders while his eyebrows mimic the expression, his giggle soon vibrating against my tingling lips. 

“We have loads o’ lost time t’ make up fer,” he notes aloud. 

“Yes, we do. A couple years, give or take.”

“Mmmhmm, yer right there, li’l one. Fook, there were so many times I wanted t’ kiss ya ova the years,” he sighs with a sad shake of his head. His dimple is soft under my fingertip, hidden under the warm brunette facial hair. 

“Then kiss me.”

Too soon, his lips leave mine after a short peck, but I press at the back of his curls and envelope his laugh with my lips. My name falls from him in a delighted whisper before one more kiss. Our laughs grow louder only to be muffled, although weakly, when a figure walks by into their nearby apartment. My face runs to the crook of his neck, my very favorite song dancing along my ears as he holds me against him. 

“Nothing to see here, sir,” I joke, and the warmth filling my insides grows at the sound of his happiness. 

“No, I rememba I got tha first handhold that night we went out fer drinks tha first time. Tha night with tha Purple Hazes and all those shots,” Harry insists from above me, and I give him the funniest look when I come out of hiding. 

“You’re still going on about that?” I ask in near disbelief, watching his curls move when he nods his head, dipping to meet my lips with his for a slow kiss. 

“I don’t want this night to end,” I hum against the strawberry color of his decadent mouth. 

“Neither do I, Becks. ‘ve been waitin’ fer it fer so long,” he agrees, the wispiness of his eyelashes ghostlike against my forehead. 

“It’s getting late, and Skye is probably dying to hear how tonight went.”

“Ya betta go and tell tha poor girl then,” he responds, pulling my eyes towards his that sit just a moment away, sending all of the sunshine in my direction. 

“That’s okay?”

“‘Course. I may or may not ring Myles on tha way home t’ tell him all ‘bout it,” he shrugs with a telling lilt to his sing-song voice. The only sound that leaves my lips is an amused laugh that he echoes, and I know that he feels the same way.

At last, I know after over two years that he feels the same way, through and through. 

“We’ll figure out sumthin’ fer this weekend t’getha, sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds great, Harry,” I agree slowly and he nods ever so slightly, leaving kisses starting from my temple and down my cheek. 

“G’night, bug.”

“Night, Harry. Drive careful,” I tell him and once again, he answers me with a nod. 

“I promise, babe.”

“Goodnight,” I almost whisper, the very last breath of the word stolen away by his lips. I wouldn’t want it any other way, I barely am able to think as his lips massage mine between his. His neck is fiery beneath my palms and I’m sure mine is likened to it underneath his fingertips, surges of electricity passing below my skin. The skin is balmy against my blushing cheek when my arms come around his middle, surprising us both with a long hug, before I pull away first. 

“Night, my Becks,” he murmurs against my lips, a shiver running down my spine when he leaves with a final squeeze to my hand. If that didn’t do it, the song flowing from his humming lips sparks memories behind my eyes, but I still can’t figure out where it’s from. But, I know that I have plenty of time to figure it out, and to get all of the kisses that I want from him. 

Fucking finally.

[parasympathic]

SELF PARA 002.

[ isa 💕 → monty ] sel’s already here but you’re welcome to join us...? 😁 

It was, objectively speaking, a terrible idea. For a number of reasons that came quickly and didn’t require any great amount of overthinking on Montgomery’s part this time. If it were only Isabel, there wouldn’t be a question, a promised bottle of Patron that he’d offered to bring to her tonight, a long overdue escape that he thought they both might need. Drinking with Selwyn, however, carried a number of complications, even if it was solely for her status within the Magistrate. A string he’d already pulled on a few times, bullets dodged thanks to sympathies she pretended she didn’t have. Which still didn’t make it wise to let go of his firmly held self control, not in front of a telepath or a friend, when there was an expansive list of secrets he carried, both damning and personal. 

There was one reason stacked against it, a side effect of the forced distance between himself and Emil. One he hadn’t anticipated, because it had never been a problem before, not really. He might have had a strained relationship with sleep, a tendency to overthink that kept him up until strange hours of the morning, but he’d learned to function on the bare minimum. It was time alone that was disappointing, sure, but it wasn’t an overwhelming kind, at least it wouldn’t have been before. 

Before the Institute. Before cuffs around his wrist and white walls around him, memories that crept into his thoughts when he was staring up at the ceiling in an empty bed, finding himself stretching his mind out to move the bed, or a book, or anything so long as he could assure some irrational part of his mind that there wouldn’t be a blue flare across the ceiling the second he did. Memories that found those cracks in his unconscious mind, a few confusing moments when he first awoke that he couldn’t remember where he was. A brief second of panic, of his heart pounding as he tried to blink the grit from his eyes and focus on his bedroom.��Bed empty, but his, scars on his wrists, but no cuffs.

It was a reassurance that got him through the day, but hadn’t helped the last three nights, and it left him staring at his phone for a moment before he replied.

[ monty → isa 💕 ] be there in twenty, chérie. 

The game was never have I ever, and after the first three shots Montgomery decided it had been chosen with the specific purpose of fucking with him. Enough sins already shared between the two women sitting around the table with him that he suspected most of what they said was either an inside joke, or in Selwyn’s case, a chance to figure out just how much Monty had changed. Because she’d recognized a shift in him as much as he had in her, pinpointing it the first time he’d seen her at the Pit, just by the way he smiled. Even if she didn’t know why he hadn’t before, even if she didn’t know why it hurt to hear himself called a robot. And maybe it was because she’d paid more attention, because Dom had looked up to him, but not at him, and Dev might’ve forced her hobbies on him, but she’d found him boring.

“Never have I ever been arrested.” Isabel’s offering, accompanied by a muted grin in his direction. His response an easy roll of his eyes before he tossed the shot back, aware that there were three empty glasses hitting the table afterwards.

“Why Dr. Monty, I’m shocked.” Selwyn, putting a hand to her chest and looking at him with mock surprise. “Scandalized even.”

“Are you though?” Brow raised in a challenge before he nodded his head to the dark haired woman on his left. “We have the same friend.” A point proven solely by the ease of his posture, back against the chair and Isabel’s feet crossed and resting in his lap. Palm curved around her shin with easy affection he didn’t give most.

Something just as endearing in the way she cursed him afterwards. “Hijo de puta I did that for you.”

“Oh, I know, that’s why it’s funny.” A grin flashed at her that dissolved into a laugh as she kicked at his knee, and a memory of a holding cell that shouldn’t have left him with so much warm fondness sitting on his chest.

It didn’t surprise him when the game started devolving into questions of love and sex and heartbreak, and he lost track of how many he tossed back alongside them. Ignoring that three months ago he wouldn’t have been able to drink to half of them, heartsick before, but never heartbroken, a list of lovers but never in love. Somewhere along the line it drowned out some of his fear, leaving a secret out on the table among empty shot glasses. One he’d kept so long he thought it had become part of him, but there was something liberating about leaving it on the cutting room floor.

"It makes sense,” said Sel. A response that had Monty lifting a brow, a tone far too innocent as she toyed with a shot glass. “No wonder you were so oblivious to my charms.”

It made him laugh, something too relieved in the sound, head resting against the back of the chair. “Obviously. The only reason.” Because some secrets were easier to let go of than others, and he found this one didn’t hurt as much as he’d feared.

He was still grateful when they broke for food, a chance to let the tequila settle, Isa complaining about the poor quality of her weed before she remembered why, and he blamed both the liquor and the smoke hanging thick in the air instead of her for the bluntness that followed. “Tell your boyfriend to stop avoiding me.” 

“We’re too old to pass notes, chérie.” Said as gently as he could, not wanting to sit in the middle even while feeling as though it was a space he firmly occupied.

“Dile a ese cabrón, stop being a little bitch.” A curse accompanied by a gesture of the lighter, and he knew he was drunk because he found himself biting back a laugh, even while fully aware it wasn’t funny. That his trust wasn’t the only one left shattered, too many messages in her phone that Monty hadn’t written, and if there was the faint prick of guilt that he might’ve helped ruin something between them, he couldn’t remember how to lie to her, or if he even wanted to.

It left him with a quiet longing, missing the man abruptly when he’d managed to keep himself distracted most of the night. Not for any comfort he wanted to steal, but for the absence of him, the certainty that Emil would fit easily into place around the table with them. A familiar fantasy of their lives intertwining, and after a moment he pulled himself to his feet and reached for his phone.

Monty didn’t regret the decision to call Emil, not while he was on the phone with him. It wasn’t until after, sitting there on Isabel’s fire escape with nothing but the quiet sound of voices and laughter behind him and the distant hum of a car in the distance that it finally set in. Trying to replay a conversation where already the details were slipping away, and he was just left with a growing unease and the ache in his chest, a quiet voice swearing that he’d somehow fucked up. Sinking guilt following when he thought it was for the conversation itself, Emil miles away and trying to balance his life and his family. He didn’t need Montgomery falling apart.

He was slow to untangle himself from his place on the metal grate, vertigo hitting him hard and leaving him with a hand pressing against the side of her building to keep himself steady. A brief laugh following, an instinctive reaction that lacked real humor, and then he was trying to navigate his way back through the window.

It went worse this time, one leg getting caught on the edge, body tilting to compensate for it, and ending with Monty on his back staring up at Isabel’s ceiling with one foot still sticking out into the cold air. He heard laughter somewhere behind him but he didn’t look back, a distant awareness of burning in his eyes and the sensation of something stuck in his throat. Making it harder to breathe, to talk, to think, and he couldn’t tell if it was regret or despair.

Only that it hit in waves, his own voice in his head, am I different?

Do you want to be the same?

The answers slipping in easier now, one after another, when he wasn’t trying to hold onto something more fragile through the thin connection of a phone call. I just don’t want to be weaker. I don’t want to be ruined. I don’t want to feel that powerless ever again. I don’t want nightmares and I don’t want fear and I don’t want to wake up and not remember where I am. I don’t want to wonder if everything good about myself already got destroyed years ago and if Hugo just finished the job.

I want to know who I am.

Monty’s palms pressed against his eyes, self restraint doing a poor job of holding himself together when there was so much tequila stripping it away, so he tried to cling to it with the pressure of his hands and desperate, steadying breaths that got cut off again when it just left room for something worse to slip through. Every memory he’d tried to put aside, to strip whatever useful information he could before discarding them, a month of his life that still clung to him like smoke. A logical dissection of events and an illogical shaking of his frame, trying to hold in the wretched sob that wanted to rip from his chest, because what good is that? 

“Monty?” Isabel’s voice breaking through first before he felt fingers in his hair, a soothing comfort that he flinched away from before settling under her touch. “Hey. What happened? What did he say to you?” 

“No, no, he didn’t do anything wrong.” Words that came quickly and thoughtlessly, escaping somewhere between ragged breaths to stall any anger before it came. Even if it felt like a blatant lie after it was past his lips, because Emil had left one of the deepest scars, that feeling of betrayal, of trust shattering, one he hadn’t given blindly, but with too much hope. And the man had burned it all down, maybe destroyed them both, and it left Monty with too much hurt pressing down on his chest, a brutal crushing ache in both heart and his lungs that wasn’t just for himself, his prison stark and white, Emil’s looking like a rotting mockery of his own bedroom. 

He didn’t know if he could forgive, but he’d wanted to forget, and found it still all too close the second he stopped packing those wounds with something golden and kinder. Reaching out his hand to grasp at her arm, the other dragging across his face again, trying to ignore the warm wetness slipping down his cheeks, a memory of sitting on his couch trying to stem the same flood. “Can you just... hug me?” 

There was no hesitation, just Isabel shifting behind him, pulling his head into her lap and arms curving around his shoulders. A comfort that made the shaking of his frame worse before it got better, fingers tight around her arm and wishing he could explain to either of them why he was crying. But if Emil had told him to talk about it, he couldn’t find the words, just the distant awareness of a wound that hadn’t healed and her voice, telling him “I’m here.” 

His awareness of Selwyn was just as removed, barely aware of her settling down on the carpet next to him. None of the same easy affections given, but after a moment her hand settled on his shoulder, her voice “do you want to see more of memories of you?” and no real chance given to answer before the world faded away.

Isabel’s living room was made black, soft and encompassing, like dreamless sleep, a darkness that Montgomery felt himself sinking into. Warmer for the comforting contrast to stark white, muscles untensing and going liquid as he stretched out onto the carpet. Wondering if he didn’t fall asleep in the brief moment before nothingness and the sudden emergence of memories, cast in bright technicolor even if his own were black and white. An intense projection of thought, of someone else’s life, none of the images belonging to him, and he didn’t know if it was comforting to see it all again, but he thought it was meant to be.

Because there was a version of himself in Selwyn’s memory, the version she saw, of someone calm and composed even as a child. Always the babysitter when he was older than the rest, always the one taping up wounds and skinned knees, and there was a flicker of his own memory in the back of his head, putting them on his own scrapes and scars too, but alone in the bathroom. A version of himself he’d thought was so dissonant from who he was now, but there was too much familiar, beyond the simple physicality of the boy in her memory. The starkest difference in the eyes, because they looked impossibly vacant, and part of him wondered distantly how she hadn’t seen it, how no one had seen it, why no one could hear him silently screaming when he’d still been young and new. It was a feeling that was all too familiar, like it had echoed through the years until history repeated itself, taking new form; how did no one notice I was gone?

The tug on curled locks distracted him, tipping his head back to see a smile so much brighter on Isabel’s lips as she watched the images around them, invited in by the woman who controlled them. “Look how young you were. Look at your hair,” she said. A different echo this time, like family, like a mother sharing stories about her only son, the warm smell of coffee and old books. And those were present too, an image of a lanky, teenage version of himself, still curled in a chair with a book in his lap before he was interrupted. He closed his eyes briefly to hold onto it, to hold onto Isabel, letting the world shift on its axis beneath his spine, the kind of vertigo that made him wonder if he wasn’t in danger of spilling off the earth altogether. A distant, nostalgic ache that always came with missing a home that he’d never had. 

And he knew when it faded, light pressing against his eyelids before she was prodding him gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He stayed quiet for a moment, blinking away the darkness and left staring up at the ceiling that was too bright in comparison, but he reached out, floating the bottle of tequila off the table. Thoughtless and casual and his, no flicker of blue, no yawning emptiness greeting him in place of his gift. He wasn’t trapped, not in a cell, not in his own home, not by anything but chains of his own making, and if he’d changed, if he was different, it wasn’t the first time. A painful echo of empty eyes looking back at him, and he finally nodded his head. Tilting it back to look up at her, a grateful squeeze of her arm. 

“No,” he said. “But I feel a little better.” Sitting up slowly, hand reaching out for the bottle as it drifted into his grasp, a swig straight from it before he turned and passed it to Selwyn like quieter gratitude. Letting the taste of something sharp and sweet ease the dull and distant ache in his chest when he couldn’t quite name its form. If it was for what he’d lost or never had, if it was for who he’d never become and who he wished he was, for a moment all he had was another memory, her voice somewhere in the back of his head, and he didn’t know if it held hope or just another hurt. Although, who knew you would change so much, after all these years, making jokes and all. No longer quite the robot.

Despite his assurances, Monty didn’t feel better, not right away. Tequila that was compromising his faculties, but kept him hovering on that line between bleak despair and a reckless, boundless happiness that he’d wanted to hold onto. A quieter thought that he’d wanted to share that with Emil more than anything, a version of himself that didn’t carry cuffs around his wrists or the scars from it, but he’d warned the man about delusion and he should’ve known better. There was more comfort from simply passing the bottle around like he was back in college again, the first time he hadn’t felt like an outsider staring in from behind two way glass. 

“I want ice cream.” Decided abruptly, unsure if it was true until he was saying it.

And that was how Montgomery Lacroix ended up in the Circle K sometime after midnight, a mess of snacks and ice cream scattered across the counter, and Sel plopping down a slushie next to it. “It’s not a Slurpee,” she said. “But it’ll do.” 

This time the nostalgia made him laugh, something easy and simple from his childhood that didn’t demand anything more complex, a joy so small it hadn’t been worth stripping away from him, and he nodded his head at her once it settled into an easy grin. “Get me one too, yeah? The blue flavor.” Turning afterward to the poor kid working behind the counter, a little wide eyed as he stared at the three of them. Finding himself unconcerned for now about whatever rumors spread tomorrow, the kind of thing he’d always avoided and always feared, never letting anyone see a single crack in the man he’d made himself into. 

Ones that might all be on display, but there was something just as liberating in how little he cared, even if it was courage fueled by tequila. “Can I get... stop...” the words broken up by a short laugh and Isabel tucking sunglasses into place over his ears, grinning at her reflection in the red and orange lenses. “A pack of Camels,” he tried gain. “And these too, apparently.” Gesturing vaguely at his face, and if his eyes were hidden he decided it was enough for tonight just to know they were no longer empty and vacant.

[grim-faux]

8 - Twisted Warren

Too much had happened in this place, between the time Murkoff had lost control, and the MHS failed to regain control.  The patients had gotten free and had ample time on their hands to undertake all manner of hobbies.

I wasn’t certain what to make of the large hole chiseled through three feet of solid cement, and rebar.  Given there’s not a lot to do around this place but come up with creative ways to get around, I gave this one a seven out of ten.  I doubted that big ugly fucker would have been amused by a commission for big fuckin holes, he seemed dedicated to his current task of decapitating the former law.  I couldn’t envision the inmates having the tools for this sort of work, and then using them correctly to remove the cement, but they were just insane, not stupid.  There was a difference.

The problem was they were not stupid.

  To satisfy my lethal curiosity, I did return to the other side of where I had dropped down, to see if the egress guy was still lurking.  I didn’t want someone following me, I’d rather know at this point and try to lose them than get a nasty surprise in a dark cramped hole.

There was only a small room, and a door.  I tried the handle confirming it was locked, but perhaps earlier it was open and the patient decided to lock it.  Didn’t matter, my path was charted out.  It must’ve led into a lavatory, or female wash room, there were hand dryers on the wall, a mattress flung on its side, and the more important detail.  Sinks.

I tried the dial on one and received a fresh flow of water, its color I couldn’t tell due to the night vision but it looked clean and free of sediment.  After giving my perimeter a quick look I leaned under the tap and tasted it, first rinsing my mouth out of the reek and copper.  The water had a strong metallic quality, I wasn’t sure if I should drink it, much as I was advised not to drink the water when visiting another country, but I was dehydrated.  I reasoned with myself the lines couldn’t all be compromised, and drank just enough to quench my thirst.

There was also the issue of my bloody camera, and my backside, but I felt my jacket was a lost cause and it was cold.  In the dark I flushed water on my sleeve and used it to carefully dab the side of the camera until it felt like much of the stickiness was removed.  I didn’t expect to do a perfect job in the solid black.  I also took the time to rinse the blood from my scalp and the back of my leg, then flushed my tender brow.

I felt renewed, not meeting ready but stable enough on my feet to carry me onward.  I returned to the other side, squelching over the sticky puddle of blood back to the warrens entrance.

Below looked like an access space, for repairs or maintenance on broken pipes that might be reached through the basement.  It might’ve been installed in the past century if this place was as old as I suspected.

The hole wasn’t deep, but there was a passage dug out in the softer earth beneath the crawl space.  A small draft crept over my ankles, warmer air spilling into the cool shower.  The thick reek of natural gas coupled with moist earth reached my nose as I crouched down and used the night vision to navigate, I really didn’t need to get lost under this place. 

Though the path seemed straightforward, I was fully aware of how easy it was to get turned around in a short section of black crawlspace.  A few of the Outdoor Adventurer columns warned of how inexperienced cavers could get lost in less than twenty feet of cave.  One story mentioned a specific case in which a cavern had only a few extending tunnels, but the individuals involved thought only to bring one light source plus their cell phones.  As with any adventure destined to fail, the torch had a mishap and the cavers with their cell phones couldn’t distinguish between the details of the cave through the poor light source, nor could they call for help.  Many would scratch their heads or joke towards their expense, how can you get lost in such a small cave?  Few have ever experienced the total silence, the oppressive dark, and the disorientation that comes with confusion, then panic.  How easy doubt sets in and turns your instincts against you.

This is why they, like many, didn’t live to learn from their error.

Even a few feet into this passage, I could no longer see the light.  Not at all.  Thick pipes ran in orderly groups into the dark depths, railways of electrical input.  My path was carved around a cement pillar, going deeper.  My heart thudded harder against my ribs filling my head with a dull pulse of pain.  How deep did this go?  Would I be able to turn back if I lost my way?  I paused to listen in the crushing black, the total silence but for the thunder of my heart and my heavy breath.  I had my reservations for traveling deeper, I was terribly fucking lost running everywhere through the Asylums endless maze of halls, but this was fifteen times worse.  This was my grave.

I pressed on with no where else to look back on, I fortified my resolve to keep calm and find a way out.  There was nothing that could hurt me here, I could hear nothing, no shrieking, no pleas for mercy.  Dead silence.

The warmer air would’ve been a nice change of pace compared to the chilly asylum, but the reek of sludge and compost did not set me to ease.  Blood was, as always, my guide through this twisting nightmare.  Across the upper portion of the tunnel was a set of pipes, I had to stretch out and slip under them to get through.  It opened up a bit and I could stand, more pipes, for gas or water.

As I moved forward it looked like my path came to an end, but the earth shifted under my feet.  Looking down, I found a deep hole which I had nearly stumbled into.  I dropped down, making sure to evade the bricks on the one side.  The stench and heat was in full force at this point and I turned, locating where the bricks had been torn out of a wall.

The sewers beneath the asylum were huge, possibly to redirect the flow of water and alleviate erosion.  It wasn’t called Mount Massive for the jollies of it.  I glanced beyond the ruptured wall, crinkling my nose at the odor.  To my right was a light source, but my left was difficult to make out even with the NV.  Moisture in the air interfered with the feed.

Satisfied that the path was free of wavering figures, I sloshed into the filthy water of the drainage flow trying not to think about what might be floating in it.  The dark tunnel twisted around and after a few feet I could make out the collection of fallen boulders and earth.  A cave in, a weakness of some sort in the foundation.  This made me uneasy, the tunnels could be subjected to collapse while I was down here, especially with the heavy rainstorm currently hammering the mountain.  I didn’t bother to get closer should there be an opening I could squeeze through, it wasn’t worth it.

The lit tunnel offered two paths, I proceeded through the light, and presumably the path the patients had taken when they came down here.  At least I knew there must be a way out, unless they came down here and backtracked out.  I doubted that.  This was where the blood led me.

No matter how many times I repeated that phrase in my head, it always sounded wrong and insane.

A barricade for flotsam shed some perception on the water levels of these tunnels, if there was a good flood it could reach my hip.  I imagined the water was lower but even now the flow rolled over my ankles, I could only be thankful the water temper was tolerable or I’d succumb to hypothermia.  The barrier offered little trouble, but a sharp pain in my side.  Nice thing, I was growing accustomed to the jolts of pain.  Just had to avoid getting thrown out of windows, or kicked in the chest.

An intersecting tunnel came into view, but it was easy to decide which way from here with no detours.  My right was completely packed by another cave in, giving me some mild grief if that was my way out.  The ruble didn’t look fresh but I was no expert on collapses.

The right looked like another dead end from a distance, but as I moved closer I could see the small drainage tunnel in the shallow ditch was open.  A strong source of light soaked through a large grate overhead, offered by the upper floors perhaps, I couldn’t tell.  I stood off to the side of the gaping drain to look up, but the light from above was too bright to view past and make out its origins.  I thought I heard someone screaming, it could’ve been my imagination.  The echoing chatter of water spilled along the cobblestone bricks into the ditch below at a high frequency.

As I looked down, I thought I saw a body slumped by a grated drain.  It was a body, I crept in close to examine him through the NV feed.  He didn’t look like one of the patients that had come down earlier, a small relief.  He had been dead for some time, his pants and the lower area of his body had absorbed so much water he almost looked fluffy, but it was only skin dissolved and flaking away.  I didn’t need that thought on my mind, though I had already presumed I would find more bodies in the sewer, I didn’t need to see them immediately.  What a naïve hope that was.

Returning to my task at hand, I grimaced as I couched low and scooted along the water into the small tunnel.  The humid stench was overpowering and the cramped space of the drain had me nearly knelt in the foul water, but I managed to only submerge one knee as I felt along.  I tried to bury my face in my collar and hold the camera up so I could see where I was going and not put my knee into something unpleasant.  Blood was one thing, it was tolerable.

I tried to keep my hand along the ‘dryer’ side of the wall, where the tunnel sloped down but wasn’t in the water.  The cuts along the back of my leg stung like hell and I tried not to envision what sort of bacterial infections I’d come away with.  A piece of paper from something got caught on my foot, but I wouldn’t mess with that until I could stand.  The tunnel ended and I assured myself there was nothing here with me poised just beside the opening to lop my head off, before I shuffled out and stood.

Much of the same met me, no light and pipes suspended along the roof of the tunnel.  As I stared through the quivering visor I realized for the first time, I was shaken all over.  Not just mild tremors, I could literally not hold myself still as I inspected the open channel over.  I wasn’t cold, in fact a thin layer of sweat had spread under my coat causing it to stick against my shirt.

I was terrified.

Despite my small reprieve of isolation I was frightened, my nerves frayed.  Where was I going?  How did I get out of here?  What if there was no way out?  What if this was where I was meant to die?

Get ahold of yourself.  I stepped back and leaned beside the wall and touched the cool brick, feeling the vibrations of the Asylum against my palm.  Not gonna die here.  I would get out.  I would get out with the evidence and reveal this heinous mess to everyone.

I took a small breath through my mouth and stared at the long corridor ahead.  I wanted to believe that.  I wanted to make that the truth so bad.

The water sloshed over my shoes, and I flipped off the remains of that sheet of paper–

Something flittered into sight ahead.  I barely turned my camera up, night vision and everything I could see perfectly, and something glided by in the intersecting tunnel.  Looked black, like a shadow, but it was in direct light.  Was something there?

I took a few steps back to the tunnel and perched down, checking on my camera.  Features, playback, last five minutes.  I realized in reviewing the footage that I was breathing hard, I still was.  Didn’t care.

I paused the feed and stared at what was caught, it wasn’t very clear.  Just a black shape, it had passed in barely a second and looked almost transparent.  It wasn’t in the light as I had imagined, the NV had caught it in the dark of the intersecting tunnel.  Maybe it was a residual image, the camera had color mishaps since I flew out that window.  But…it looked suspended, a good six feet above the ground.

I took a deep breath through my mouth and exhaled.  Later I would review the evidence with better equipment, image quality enhancements.  And I’d make copies of everything.

First, I had to get out of here.  And the only route open to me was ahead, where that shadow was.

I exercised extreme caution as I proceeded forward, listening every few steps for sounds or stopping when I thought I heard something.  Carefully I picked my way along the tunnel with my eyes fixed ahead, the camera never picked up another image.

To my right where it must have gone, was a barricade or gap for high water levels.  I decided to avoid that path and check elsewhere, give whatever was there now a chance to clear out.

The left side extended a distance, all manner of trash was down here from dissolving files to cardboard boxes.  The path took a right path followed brick and on the left a drainage tunnel, grated up.  The path took a right and around the corner a light source, and possibly a way out.

I was disappointed to discover it wasn’t to be.  This was an exit, perhaps some time before, but the ladder set here was completely destroyed.  On the floor beneath lay the remains of a human, entrails, rotted limbs, and the ladder.  I attempted to lift it up but it was too short.  Even pushing some cardboard boxes over helped in no way, they were too soggy from sitting in the wet air.  The upper one cracked and folders scattered, patient letters.  I’m guessing Murkoff never sent these to the families, and probably forged return notes.  A few were stuffed into a file, which I took interest in

“"(Found scrawled in pencil on the back of an admittance form. Handwritting matches samples from patient “Father” MARTIN ARCHIMBAUD.)

This God is real. What we’ve mistaken so long for ghosts, spirits, madness. We were only willfully ignorant. The scales on Saul’s eyes were fear, and when you see beyond it, you truly see. This is the gift of the Walrider. The Gospel of Sand. The greatest sin in the world is willful ignorance of God. To receive a revelation and not spread it to the waiting flock. This place… To stand in the way of salvation is a sin for which there is no punishment too great’.”

For some reason this note caused goosebumps to crawl up my skin.  My mind brought back images of the MHS team, throttled and dragged away.  What had I seen?  What did Father Martin ask?  “Will you see?  Can you?”  I still didn’t understand, but I felt closer to understanding these mysteries through these sloppy scribbles.  Something about these words felt more than deranged delusions.  There was a truth.

I left the file and moved around the opposite side of the tunnel, lowering the camera where the lamps overhead still functioned casting deep yellow globs of light to spread over the moist stone.  Save batteries, live longer.

A soft tinkling…turned into an aggressive rattle as I passed under a large pipe.  I tried to find the source, but it sounded as though it were coming from within the pipe itself.  I raised my camera though there was nothing to record, but that sound was eerie, I could see nothing to generate that sort of sound.  Like pouring pellets into a bebe rifle.

I left that place and quickly returned to what must have been my route, where the shape had gone?  I don’t know at this point.  Peering through the tight gap I could make note of nothing threatening or otherwise, despite the distance I could tell there were areas where danger could lurk.  My progress so far had been quiet.

The barricade was tight, difficult even for me to get through.  I grunted as it rubbed on my bad side but I made it.  I’m sure there were hundreds of those down here.

The sewer opened up into another tunnel, a huge drainage gutter sat a few feet ahead with a grate over it.  To the right was a ladder swallowed up in a flood of murky water with a plaque reading Lower Junction

Fuck that.  I’m trying to get out of this place. 

A large pipe directed down into the lower area was clearly labeled ‘Female ward,’ and across from it an identical pipe with the faded words ‘Prison ward.’  More the reason not to go THAT way.  I continued to where some crates had been abandoned, probably filled with replacement parts or materials for the plumbing.  The asylum was nearly a city all in itself and required routine maintenance.

This made sense, they had a lot of people here on residence doing the experiments.  Probably the higher security clearance guys never went out on a sunny day, couldn’t risk them getting hurt or lost.

A loud thud echoed through the tunnel, I stopped near the crates and watched as a shape dropped down at the other end.  I stepped back and knelt behind them as he marched forward, struggling to breathe as he always did after the heavy exercise of killing.

The big ugly fucker just wouldn’t give it a rest!  What was his obsession?  Did he just follow me wherever he thought I was, or was it just chance?  Maybe he was following the patients, and somehow I was shepherd in with the flock.  Didn’t change matters, he was here now for whatever reason.  Damnit.

He moved towards the middle of the corridor and paused, glanced around as his breathing calmed.  Now that I saw him clearly in the light, I could make out details I hadn’t been able to pick out on when he threw me out a window.

No.  I will never let that go.

His face was indeed mutilated, by himself reports said.  I doubt he had sharp items while institutionalized.  Was it from the treatment he became so large?  Or just bad cardio, the guy ran like a horse.  The report also stated he had modified restraints to conform his massive size, and by modified they meant huge chains which he dragged around on his legs and arms.  The ones wrapped about his wrists appeared to have restricted his blood flow, I couldn’t tell from the distance if his hands still worked, they looked pale and skeletal.

Chris turned and began down a path on my right.  I listened to the sound of his chains as they grew soft and distant, with his heavy huffing.  At this point I wasn’t sure where to go, if I used my camera and zoomed, I could see to the end where he plopped down was grated.  One of the tunnels might lead somewhere, someplace where I could climb out of this sewer.  This option was more favorably than sitting here waiting for him to find me while I was indecisive about where to go.

I took hesitant steps forward, listening.  The sounds bounced around the walls, but I only heard the soft swish of water around my shoes.  He entered a tunnel further away on the left, as I moved it I could make out a dark entrance not far from my position on the right.

The tunnel was well lit, it set my nerves to ease but a coil of anxiousness knotted in my throat as I felt exposed.  I gave a small whimper unintentionally as I sprang over a flotsam guard when I twisted the wrong way, and I stopped to listen for a few seconds to assure the bug fucker hadn’t heard that.  As I resumed, the tunnel took a right into shadows and a cool draft, at the end I found a few planks of plywood and another grate drain.  And an open door brimming with light.

The room had little to offer.  Some shelves stacked with paints and boxes, a few batteries that I could use, lockers, and a large pipe with a valve labeled Prison drain

Apparently I was going into the Lower Junction. 

I shut the door behind me and griped the valve tightly and turned.  Or tried.  My arm ached and my ribs just couldn’t take it, a hot streak of pain pulsed in my side.  I stepped back and frowned at the valve.  Maybe I could trick Chris into turning it, or rig him up to it in some elaborate way.

Or I could stop being a pussy and turn that valve?

I took a few shallow breaths and steeled myself.  I was not halfway done with this place, and it wasn’t done with me.  If I was going to survive this, I would endure a lot more than some cheap shots and…

Crashing out a few windows.

I gripped the valve and braced myself, ignoring the throbbing or the red in my vision.  It would turn or so help me.

The valve gave in and wrenched.  I turned until it was all the way open, or what I presumed to be open.  I panted a bit as I turned and left the room.

Nothing.  That was nothing.  I could turn valves all day.  The pain would subside soon, and I could forget it in favor of more compelling matters.

In the dark tunnel I heard chains drag, and a voice mutter.  Two ways to spell dead.  Without a thought I pivoted and returned to the room, shutting the door behind me.  I stood waiting for a short while before I saw the knob twist.  My immediate instinct told me hide in the lockers, but the door was already opening and I was too far to get one open and stuff myself within.  I had already moved to the other side, where there was a large space behind the shelves where the light fell short.  I squatted in the furthest corner and watched as Chris entered.

He pushed the door open fully and stepped inside checking on the lockers.  Yes, they were very lovely.  He must not have known I was here, he didn’t bother opening a one.  Then, he turned looking at the shelves where I was hiding.  I held my breath and stared at him, directly at him.  I thought we made eye contact and my heart stopped, but the big fucker turned smoothly and left the room.

Even when I was certain he was well gone, I couldn’t move.  It felt like my body was frozen.  It took some effort but I managed to adjust my grip on the camera, then raise my arms and took a breath, then another.  I felt my mind begin to clear and the images replayed in my mind, Chris turning and his murky eyes dead on me.  In reflex I shut my own eyes and listened to the sounds of the sewer, soft hissing in pipes, water trickling down ancient mortar.  The tremors were back in full force, but I doubt they ever truly left me.  I only forgot they were there.

In some time I had coaxed myself enough to stand and move towards the open door, I wobbled on my feet and caught the frame before I could go charging out to make a thunderous descent on the slick plywood.

The dark was my only ally. 

I pushed myself off the doorframe and ventured into the tunnel, jumping at every little sound.  The drip of water was incessant, nerve wrecking.  I couldn’t see where he had gone from the opening of the tunnel, I stood waiting for some sign.  The idea that he might’ve left this area by some way was on my thoughts, but I knew better.  If he found a way out, I’d have a way out.  But he would exhaust his search first and that could take hours.

There were two large pipes leading into the lower junction, I already drained one.  The female drain was located on the left side of the tunnel, the pipe must’ve run that way.

While the coast was clear, I went ahead to the backside of the tunnel where the big fucker had initially entered from.  Maybe there was a way out I missed, a break in the grate.

Another dead end.  A dead guard, crumpled and broken, it looked like his legs had been twisted off and the only thing keeping them attached were his blood drenched pants.  I spun about when I picked up on the big fuckers approach, and ducked down behind the crates pressing myself into the edge where they met with the curved wall of the tunnel.  He was getting closer.

For a tense moment it sounded like he was right on the other side of the crate.  My only option was to hold still and pretend I wasn’t there.  The chains clinked as he moved and sniffed the air, I imagine this smell didn’t faze him a whole lot.  I was focused on the sleeve over my arm as I held perfectly still, studying the different colors and stains it had acquired.

“Scout the perimeter, then isolate the target.”

Eventually he continued on his way, his footfalls and muttering getting faint.  I waited a moment certain he took the left tunnel, towards the prison ward.  Of any tunnel, I just wanted to relocate and find a better vantage point.  Slowly I stood up, and there he was no more than fifteen feet away.

Chris bellowed something unintelligible and charged, sounded like ���There you argh!”  I bolted, hitting the edge of the wall with my arm and skimmed off heading to the other side of the tunnel.  Had to find a place to hide, needed somewhere I can duck into.  He was screaming something after me, it was hard to tell between the splashing water and his dragging chains.

I vaulted over a drain guard and took a sharp left, into the dark.  No place to duck into, only a few alcoves that heightened my hopes only to crush them.  I slowed to toggle the NV and not drop the camera, he was nearly at my back when I picked up pace.  I nearly missed the sharp turn to the right, I stumbled when I stepped on a greasy cardboard box but managed to stay upright.  Ahead was light, revealing another cave in, but it looked like there was an opening I could squeeze through.  I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, but standing around debating wouldn’t improve my health either.

The boulders and brick felt sturdy enough as I crammed myself between them, had to get deeper or the big fucker would drag me out.  Or rip my arm off in the process.

“Get out ‘ere!”  Chris was trying to dig me out as I crammed my body deeper.  He could topple the mound onto himself for all I cared.

As it was, I was nearly trapped in this alcove.  But with a firm shove I dislodged some rock at my feet and was able to slip down and crawl out.  It looked like the tunnel did continue down this way, but the cave in extended to that area and effectively blocked this path.

A bent door was lodged in the brick wall a few feet ahead, ripped off the lock by a force of science I didn’t wish to meet.  The plaque beside it read ‘Female drain.’  I pushed the door in and peered inside.  There wasn’t much to note, the room was small and there was no place to hide.  A shelf held a few of the paints, and a few boxes had been abandoned here.

I stepped across to the valve and braced myself before attempting to turn it.  I coughed a bit as my side tingled, but managed to get the handle to turn on my first try.  Small achievements were possible, now if I was able to get out of here.

I couldn’t hear him working to dig me out from the other side, or his heavy breathing.  He knew I was here and had no place else to go, it was likely he was camped on the other side waiting for me to emerge.  He was former military, he could afford to wait hours if necessary without losing focus.  If it came down to it, I could dodge him.  Or try, it worked but I had a sick feeling he’d remember that trick.

The rocks hadn’t shifted at all, I was able to get through with little effort.  I listened when nearly clear but picked up on nothing, only the constant drum of water running from the upper grates, and my own breathing.  The tunnel was large enough I could get around him if I timed it just right, but I didn’t care to test my reflexes against the big fuckers.  He was capable of nasty surprises, and the drain gutter was slick and unreliable.

I moved from the narrow space and took in a deep breath, then began to walk along the side of the drainage gutter where the water rolled down.  It was impossible to eliminate my movement completely, but I would hear him before he heard me.  I raised the camera for the night vision, but the power was getting low.  I paused on the corner checking for the clear before I pulled out the dead battery and put in a fresh one.

The sound of churning water caught up to me.  I didn’t pause as I quickly felt for the slot, and put in the battery before I turned to make a slow retreat.  There wouldn’t be time to crawl in the gap, especially once I hit the light.  I’d need to fake him out.  For a moment I thought I had gained some distance, the sound of his steps quieted.

Then I heard the rapid approach of chains.  “Little pig….”

I sprint the last stretch to my safety, but never made it.  A strangled yelp slipped from me as the back of my collar was snared, I clutched the camera to my stomach as he lifted me off my feet and flung me to the side of the channels drain. 

“Just lay there.”  He stepped over me as I was trying to recover.  Had to keep the camera out of the water, without it I was as good as dead!  I kicked at the slick bricks, I was dead anyway if he got his hands around my throat.  When I twisted my head to see where I was going, I spotted a missed tunnel that had a shattered grate.  A space Chris couldn’t fit.

I kicked at his ankles, throwing myself through the open passage.  Chris was still struggling to grip my shoes as I clambered inside thrashing in the shallow water until I was nearly soaked, but always making sure I was holding the camera away from the water.  I didn’t stop there, I flipped over and kept going when I saw that the other side was open as well.

With a roar of outrage, Chris stalked off, to head me off.  He had speed, I was severely limited as I struggled to move without knocking myself unconscious.

I cleared the other side and lunged to my feet, as I heard the water torn apart by his strides not far from my right.  I hurtled over the dam and ran, relying completely on the effectiveness of the pipes and the factor that they had finished draining.

“Outer perimeter breached!”  A crate flew by my head and shattered on the wall, I didn’t hesitate in my race.  Couldn’t dwell on the effectiveness of his aim either, I just needed to reach that ladder.  I shoved the camera into its hoister and practically dove down the ladder as the big fucker caught up to me.  “Don’t you hear it?”

I glanced up at his fuck grated face, in time to cringe against the ladder when he dropped a crate.  It crashed against the sides splinting in two, a piece hitting my shoulder but I barely felt it.  I continued down the ladder two and three steps, until I hit the bottom and stumbled away blindly in the dark.

Another crate fell smashing against the floor, the reverberation so close and sudden I felt my head spin.  I couldn’t see it until I had the NV active and took the time to give the soggy corridor a quick glance.  From the ladder I could still hear Chris, snarling at my escape.  I’m not sure why he didn’t pursue me, it didn’t seem impossible.  I gave up and accept these matters, and struggled to understand where I was now.

I took a few breathes, wincing at the stale sewage and raw metallic scent.  Not far from where I stood was another body of a patient, grotesquely bloated from being in the water for so long.  My stomach turned at the soured reek disturbed by the drainage.  This place just got better and better.

The heavy sounds of fresh drainage and falling water was tripled here.  In the pipes hung algae or liquefied rubbish, I couldn’t discern.  I only avoided it as I renewed my search, though it didn’t matter at this point, I was thoroughly soaked from my fall.  I suppose the red stains in my coat had either diluted or washed out completely, and yet I was more of a mess than before.  No surprise.

My path was literally straight forward, but I took it slow.  I could easily get turned around or something might’ve crawled down here.  I doubted it, as everything in here seemed to be in the advance stages of rot from the recent flood, but this place was full of unpleasant surprises that made you regret letting your guard down.

Much of them didn’t make any sense either.  I mulled over the thought of what this place might’ve been like if they didn’t use an asylum and crazy people for the experiments.

I took note of a thick pipe overhead which followed the same route open to me.  It didn’t have access through walls that had the small grated tunnels, but it gave me a direction.  I followed it around a sharp corner, and above was another bloated body, the skin around his bare arms slipping off his skeleton, without the water to cushion the buoyancy.  I made sure not to step directly under him, as I continued through the sewer.  A few crates bobbed in the water as I moved by, a few were marked with Murkoff’s faded logo.

More left over plywood, maybe used to board up areas down here where the scientist made their last stand.  Maybe a few of them came down here to shelter from the patients, but as of yet I had seen no evidence of this.  The wood gave me little trouble, stiff but soggy from its prolonged aquatic existence.  Above the pipe made a sharp turn and ended its path at a connecting pipe parallel with the wall.  I retreated as a sharp blast of hot steam shot out.  Damn pipes were now against me.

I skipped over another broken barrier of wood and boxes scattered in the drainage gutter, before finally coming to a ladder, and my escape.  Given, the big fucker hadn’t beaten me here somehow and was waiting above for me to poke my head out of the warren.  At least there was light above.

As I made my gradual progress up the tall ladder, I occasionally glanced up to my destination.  I tried to keep my steps soft, but someone had heard me.  They popped their head over the opening from above, curious to who was coming up.

I stopped debating what that might’ve been.  Too normal to be Chris Walker, but all patients were insane murders at this point.  A little slower I renewed my climb, unable to hear what the variant above might be planning.  It was likely he couldn’t see anyone down in the dark depths, but he did hear me.  He knew someone was coming.

I tightened my grip on the bars when I peered just over the edge, checking around as much as I could for the person.  I was relieved to find myself alone, but I thought I heard voices echoing in the distance.  Set to ease but still wary I climbed up onto the grate and kept low, I was certain they coming from somewhere….

“No.  I can hear it!”  There was a large grate in a tunnel to my left, that the voices echoed down.  Did they mean me? 

“Somebody—” 

“The Walrider!”  Guess not.  I pulled myself up a little more as shrieks splint the calm, I hung back as a sound came to me similar to crashing water, and a low rumbling.  Not rumbling, was it trickling?  Or a hissing, as something caught in the air and lashed out.  I winced as the howls began.

The voices intensified, as people somewhere shrieked with wild release.  I couldn’t place what I was hearing, a lifting swell of agony and terror as the multitude came to a crescendo, cracks and tears of bone and flesh and crushed windpipes catching voices midway through their final throes.  Somewhere, not far from where I was, people were slaughtered by something they had warned me about.

It couldn’t be.  The Walrider was a myth, it couldn’t exist.

Eventually the anguished cries fell silent, as did the sounds of what had enacted its punishment.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Cadillac Love

Rated: E

Cadillac Love

“Dad, that does not sound healthy. When was the last time you had this thing serviced?”

Gold pointedly avoided the question, but if pressed he would have to agree with his son’s statement that the Cadillac did not sound how a Cadillac ought to sound.

Still, it wasn’t his fault that the thing hadn’t seen a mechanic for many more years than it should. Mr Tillman, the only mechanic Gold had trusted to come within an inch of his prized car, had left town a few years ago to take care of his children after his ex-wife died, and whilst Gold would never begrudge the man’s decision, he also would never allow anyone else to touch the Cadillac.

At any rate, despite the strange noises, the car had got them home safely and now all it had to do was sit in the driveway and recover until they needed it again. Which hopefully would not be too soon. The bonnet really was just a tad too hot for Gold’s liking.

“Look, I know it’s your pride and joy and I think that you love it more than me sometimes, but you’ve got to take care of it.” Neal scrabbled around in his overstuffed pockets and handed over a business card. “French is the best mechanic I’ve ever met. Better than Mr Tillman was, if you can believe that. The Cadillac will be in safe hands, I promise.”

Reluctantly, Gold took the card and tucked it away in his coat. Neal was right of course. Neal was always right about these kinds of things. The Cadillac definitely needed some TLC. Perhaps it was time to take a leap of faith and trust someone else with it.

It turned out that he needed the car sooner than he’d anticipated after all. Neal had gone out to catch up with old friends he’d missed during his first year at college, and Gold needed to go and collect the rent from The Rabbit Hole. It was a walkable distance, but the weather was atrocious, and Gold had no desire to turn up at the establishment looking like a drowned rat, no matter how much he might want to save the car.

With bated breath, he got in and started the engine. It spluttered once before nicely purring into life, and Gold smiled. He could pretend that he’d never heard that first splutter. All the same, he stuck to low speeds, crawling through the town until he reached his destination.

The Rabbit Hole was never his favourite place even in its best moments, and Friday night happy hour was definitely not one of its best moments. He went up to the bar, pleased when the bartender saw him and immediately paled, rushing off to the back room with a squeak of ‘yes I’ll just get that rent for you now’.

Gold sat down on a bar stool to wait, not paying too much attention to his surroundings until someone spoke to him.

“What can I get you?”

It was the young woman on his left. Dark hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a little secretive smile on her face, as if she was sizing him up and she liked what she saw. Gold liked what he saw, too, and he felt a pull of desire in the pit of his stomach that he had not felt for a very long time. He shook his head crossly. He was far too old to be picking up young women in bars for one-night stands.

“I’m driving,” he said quickly, to cover the sudden movement.

The woman shrugged. “Something non-alcoholic then. Come on, let a girl show a little interest in the mysterious stranger.” She held out a hand. “I’m Belle.”

“Gold.”

The bartender came back with the rent money and Gold set to counting it out whilst Belle ordered a gin and tonic for herself and an orange juice for him. He smiled, stowing the rent packet safely in his pocket and deciding that since he was in a good mood, having met this young lady who seemed against all the odds to be interested in him, he would not mention the fact that they were ten dollars short this month.

Belle toasted her glass against his. “So, you’re the infamous Mr Gold. I take it that you drove here in your Cadillac?”

Gold nodded.

“Oh, I love that car,” Belle said. There was an almost dreamy quality to her voice. “I practically drool over it whenever I see it in town. I’ve give anything to get a closer look at it.” She leaned in close, whispering in his ear before kissing the lobe. “And a closer look at its owner, of course.”

Gold gulped, willing his cock to stop twitching. It was so long since anyone had shown any sexual interest in him that he was getting ahead of himself, and he kept fearing that this was all an elaborate candid camera set up and he’d be the laughingstock of the town in the morning. But Belle’s bright eyes were genuine, and he felt, perhaps against his better judgement, that she was someone he could trust. Her enthusiasm towards the Cadillac was certainly a point in her favour, and he was pleased to have stumbled across someone with such a good taste in cars.

They continued to talk as they finished their drinks, the innuendo coming thick and fast by the end, and Gold knew that even if the Cadillac was working perfectly, they still wouldn’t be leaving the parking lot any time soon. Belle linked her arm through his as they left the bar, rushing through the heavy rain to get into the car.

Once in, they looked at each other for a moment, and then they were kissing; frantic, heated kisses with lips and teeth and tongues, licking and biting as fingers carded into wet and rumpled hair. Gold pushed his seat back as far as he could and Belle scrambled over onto him, pulling her skirt up around her waist and grinding her hips against his, the pressure against his cock sending him half-mad with want.

He reached down to cup her through her panties, tracing up and down the line of her slit through the damp fabric and making her moan, head thrown back. He took his chances, yanking the panties down so that he could see and touch her properly, and Belle wriggled out of them altogether, tossing them onto the dashboard.

Gold found her clit, rubbing roughly with his thumb whilst his fingers explored her slippery folds, pushing up inside her entrance.

“You’re good,” Belle gasped. “For all you say you’re out of practice. Keep going!”

Gold was happy to obey, his other hand pinching her clit as he pressed another finger inside, stroking her inner walls.

“Fuck!” Belle screamed as she came suddenly, fluttering around his fingers, her hips bucking forward against his hand. “Fuck, Gold, you’re good.”

She kissed him again as she began to come down from her high, and then her hands were on his belt, opening his fly and taking out his cock, stroking and tugging him deftly until Gold was panting, eyes closed. Her thumb brushed over his tip, playing with his foreskin and smearing the drops of precum that were already starting to show. Although he might not be rusty when it came to giving ladies pleasure, he was most certainly not used to lasting for any length of time. His recent experience had been quick and functional touches in the shower to find release as fast as possible, and now he wanted to enjoy Belle’s wonderful fingers, but he could already feel his climax coming.

He spurted thickly over her hand, splashing on his waistcoat. That was going to take some explaining to the dry cleaners, but it was absolutely worth it.

“Fuck. Belle.”

“You can definitely fuck Belle.” She kissed him again. “I have plenty of condoms at home. You can fuck Belle all night if you want.”

“Yes, I think that’s a great idea.”

They set themselves and the car to rights, Belle using her discarded panties to wipe the misted windows, and Gold turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened.

He tried again. Still nothing.

“It’s ok,” Belle said. Gold shook his head and with a sigh, pulled out the mechanic’s card and started to dial the number.

“Honestly, you don’t need to call a mechanic,” Belle said, just as her phone began to ring.

Gold just stared at her as she held out a hand.

“Belle French, local mechanic. Pleased to meet you.”

Gold cut the call and shook her hand, still dumbstruck. “Likewise.” At least he knew that she would treat the Cadillac with the respect that it deserved. She opened the passenger door.

“You’ll get soaked!” Gold protested.

“Oh, what a terrible thought.” Belle’s smile was cheeky, her eyes bright and teasing. “I’ll have to take off all my wet clothes when we get inside. Maybe a hot shower will be in order. You’ll have to warm me up. Skin to skin, of course, that’s the best way.” She darted in and kissed him again before jumping out of the car and going to look at the engine, leaving Gold utterly gobsmacked, his head full of rather distracting images of taking a very wet and very naked Belle French on the Cadillac’s bonnet…

[haikumomentsandinspiration]

#healthcarevacation, Part III

My last update was on August 25, 2018. So much has happened since then, so there will be at least two more parts to this documentation. If you missed earlier updates, you can read Part I here and Part II here. 

First of all, I did come up with a tattoo idea (see my last update) and got one last summer. I had had a challenging spring term in the 2018-2019 school year, and needed to remind myself who I am and what I’m about. So I went to my tattoo artist and asked her to design ”a badass mermaid” for me. A siren that’s feminine and strong (not a skinny blonde mermaid, please!), a siren who looks like she is ready to kick some ass if need be—soft, with hard edges.

And I got just that, along with a tattoo on the side of my belly of a fertility symbol from traditional Turkish kilim patterns.

But let me back up.

After August 2018, after a ton of research, we decided to go with donor egg IVF in Spain. Our patient coordinator at the clinic we chose was lovely and super communicative. She was available via WhatsApp anytime I had a question or anxiety or both, and made sure I knew what the next steps would be and when. I felt well cared for.

During my winter break, I flew to Spain soon before our donor’s egg retrieval to start the treatment. I flew into Barcelona to give myself some time in my favorite city before flying to Valencia. I had a cold right before my trip, and in Barcelona, I started feeling like my cold may in fact be a sinus infection. I was miserable. I managed to go outside, get some fresh ginger, some lemon ginger tea, cough drops, and congestion meds. I needed to get better...STAT.

Two days later, on the day I was to fly to Valencia in the evening and meet Gene at the airport there, I woke up to the news Gene couldn’t fly out to join me that day because his passport wasn’t good for at least 6 months. (Being Turkish, I wondered if someone had “cast the evil eye” on us.) Eventually, Gene was able to miraculously take care of all the paperwork, get an emergency passport renewal, and catch the same exact flight to VLC 24 hours later.

The day after G’s arrival, we took a bus to Gandía for our first appointment at Irema clinic. My uterine lining was still a bit too thin, so they upped my meds, but told me not to worry since I still had a week before the scheduled transfer day. That evening, Gene and I flew to Barcelona to boost morale before the transfer. I was feeling slightly better, but Gene ended up catching my cold. Sigh. Things were just not going as smoothly as I had hoped.

A week later, we headed back to Valencia and then to Irema clinic for my second scan. My lining was still too thin, but other than its thickness, it was looking exactly as it should. They doubled my estrogen dose and postponed my transfer date. I went to the market the next day and shopped for food with a focus on thickening my lining: nuts, avocados, olives, apricots, sardines, chicken broth…My third scan, on December 31, showed my lining was almost there (7.7 mm, with the goal being at least 8 mm thick, so we set the transfer date for January 7. Things were looking up, except I got sick with another cold while still not 100% over the first one, and spent New Year’s Day sick in bed.

Gene left for SF two days later. That he had to go back before transfer day was hard for me. I sent him updates via WhatsApp along the way and tried to stay connected as much as possible (this was a major challenge for me and really got me down). I found an acupuncturist of zero reputation (someone working from home and with no reviews anywhere, which was not unusual in Valencia), but who was very sweet and kind and seemed to know what he was doing, and started seeing him to get my body as ready as possible for the transfer. We had three good quality embryos from our donor, and after much discussion and research, we decided to transfer just one this time, and save two for later for a second attempt or for a sibling later on.

The day before my transfer day, I walked about an hour to the beach, prayed, meditated, and communed with the sea, wishing for a positive outcome the next day. The next day, I found out the embryo we were going to transfer was classified as an A-quality embryo, and my lining was just fine. Transfer was quick and painless, with an all-women team. I went to get fertility acupuncture next to seal the deal, and the next morning, I flew back to San Francisco hopeful, ready for this to finally work.

It didn’t.

But it wasn’t even that simple. The first blood test, my levels came back really low: technically pregnant, but disconcerting if I were indeed pregnant. I was to go back 48 hours later to see if my levels doubled as they were supposed to; we held onto the sliver of hope. But no. Negative. I couldn’t feel the sadness at first — Gene had just started a new job that day after a long stretch of unemployment, so we were celebrating and grateful. Then, a couple of days later, the emotions hit. I felt distant, quiet, impatient...and in need of a new tattoo.

And that’s how the badass mermaid/fertility design tattoos were born.

Fast forward to the summer. After a brief visit to Israel for my grandmother’s 90th birthday, and a week in Istanbul next, I flew back to visit Irema clinic in Spain for the transfer of remaining embryos.

In the meantime, our awesome patient coordinator Lauren had quit her job (some internal drama, which made it sound like she made the absolute right choice). I only found out when I contacted her in preparation for the summer’s transfer to find out what our next steps should be, and had someone named Sergio respond to my text instead of Lauren. He was terrible at communication and not half as knowledgeable as Lauren. It was a very frustrating period, but we had no choice since we still had embryos at the clinic.

July 3, 2019: transfer day! We had decided to transfer both of the remaining embryos this time. We really wanted twins, and if only one took, that was fine, too. We’d figure out what to do about a sibling later. I wasn’t sick this time. I had been upgraded to business class last minute for no apparent reason on my flight over. My lining was where it was supposed to be from the start, and we had two embryos this time. Everything was going smoothly. My sister Rina joined me at the end of my stay in Valencia to help me with my bags, and we went to Barcelona together for my two week wait. All was well; we were joyful and filled with hope.

Because the transfer day happened earlier than I expected compared to our last experience, I had more days in Spain post-transfer than I had anticipated. This meant that I would still be in Spain when I got my blood work results back. I decided I would not delay the wait. I had my blood test done, then went to the beach with Rina. I didn’t swim, just in case I was positive and had to avoid getting an infection. I told G to let me know when he got home from work so I could look at the test result with him on the phone and we could get the news together.

Finally, close to 2 am in Barcelona, with G on the phone, I finally took a look.

Negative.

It was an awful Whatsapp chat. This, we had been convinced, would be the successful one, and it wasn’t. We just sat there, each in our feelings, not sharing them. I felt devastated and alone. Hurt. Mad. Heartbroken. Isolated.

Hours later, when Rina woke up on the morning of her flight back to Istanbul, I told her the news through tears. She said she didn’t want to leave me behind like this; I said I would be fine, and that there wasn’t anything she or anyone could do. I just needed to grieve, and her being there with me or not wouldn’t change anything. Besides, why pay extra money to hang out longer with a depressed sister who doesn’t feel like doing anything except staying in bed crying? Rina went back to her room, made a phone call, and came back to tell me she was staying three more days and that was that. She left to give me some space and to get herself some coffee, and returned a little while later with a bubble wand for me (I am about to cry just thinking about it now.) I got up, blew some bubbles from the balcony of my room towards passersby below. Bubbles have always made me smile. And to my surprise, even under these circumstances they still did.

I got my period a few days later—a few days after Rina had returned to Istanbul and a few days before my own trip back home. That week after the test results and before my flight back to SF, back to Gene was the longest week ever. I tried to make the most of it by finally enjoying all the foods (including ice cream) and alcohol I had been denying myself in Barcelona due to my fertility-friendly diet.

And then, back home, it felt like the longest time ever until I stopped grieving. What finally helped me find a sense of inner calm was to start researching next steps. I started researching clinics in Spain all over again, making phone calls, having Skype chats at all hours of the night (due to the 9-hour time difference), exchanging numerous emails with a number of clinics and their former patients…

Eventually, after I did all that research and laid out everything on a spread sheet, we settled on a clinic in Barcelona and decided to gamble on their birth guarantee/shared risk program. What that means: instead of paying for one cycle (about $9K), you pay a flat fee (about $20K), which gets you three cycles with three different donors and a healthy baby at the end of those, OR all your money back. So the clinic is taking a risk in that they could lose $20K if you don’t have a successful birth by the end. And you take a risk by paying $20K instead of $9K because if the first cycle works, that’s $11K down the drain. We decided it was worth it since I’d had so many failed cycles, including two donor egg transfers thus far. And we figured the clinic would be taking especially good care of us because it would be in their best interest for us to have a successful cycle as soon as possible. Next challenge: figure out how to finance all this. After more research, more emails and more chats with people in various Facebook groups, we settled on a plan and decided to go for it.

December cycles hadn’t been kind to me. I’d had a December cycle with my own eggs in Turkey a few years back, which we had to cancel when my body just didn’t respond to the fertility meds. Our first donor egg transfer in Spain had also failed and was the one cycle when my lining took its time getting to the minimal acceptable thickness for the embryo transfer. Knowing cold weather is not my body’s friend, I was hesitant to start the new cycle with a new clinic in December, but I was also not getting any younger, so there was no time to waste. It was back to Barcelona in December 2019, and this time, Barcelona was the location of the clinic and our only destination, not a short trip between clinic visits in another visit. Everything would be much simpler.

Clarity sure felt good, and knowing what our plan was for up to three cycles (which could span the period of the next two years) was a huge relief to me. I felt so much lighter. I felt hopeful and confident again.

December 2019-January 2020.

Barcelona.

Let’s do this.

To be continued.

[mitchmarnier]

L.A Devotee | Chapter 4

“God, these movies get worse every year,” Kay laughed, taking a hit off of the joint that Beverly handed her before easily handing it back. Eddie stared at them, gape mouthed, then turned to Richie with wide eyes. A look of concern seemed to settle over Eddie’s face, him mouthing “are you okay?” and Richie frowned.

“If these movies are so terrible,” Richie said, patting his hands onto his knees. “Then we can watch something else. Please. I beg you.”

[or: child actor Richie Tozier was raised in The Industry, he knows how to play the game. He knows exactly how to keep his head down, and make his way through the famous life without attracting any extra drama. Until his management branch takes an up incoming band under their wing, and enlist Richie to publicly date the lead singer, and that all falls to shit.]

Richie whistled as he came into the apartment, happily swinging his keys around on his fingers, then slowed to a stop as he looked around the group of people in his living room. His eyes moved throughout them all, Audra and Kay both perched on either side of Richie’s favourite armchair. Mike from Eddie’s band was seated within the chair, while the rest of the group were laying across their couch. Well, Eddie was laying while both Stan and Ben were sitting perfectly acceptably. a

“Uh… hello people who don’t live here,” Richie said, with a raise of his eyebrow. He turned to Audra, jerking his head slightly to the side and pursed his lips.

Audra smirked happily up at him. “You know what today is, don’t you?”

Richie’s brain stalled, eyes narrowing. “It’s May 5th… Oh no.”

Audra gave him a thick, Cheshire cat grin. Every year on the anniversary of their shows’ premiere, the network did a huge marathon of episodes for the entire day. A full 24 hours. They always started on the pilot, and always made it to the exact spot in season two every goddamn year. Richie knew it was because the cast- as it included himself and Audra- was easily one of the most popular programs they’d had for this generation, with some of the most successful cast. Audra, Kay and Beverly all insisted they watch it every year for the quote nostalgia. Richie forgot about it every single year, and was painfully ambushed every. Single. Year. He’d never been this caught off guard, however.

“Are we still doing this?” Richie asked Audra in a bored tone.

“Are you kidding?” Kay cackled. Eddie was eyeing her suspiciously, clearly never having seen her outside of her work personality before. “You’re nominated for an Oscar, Richie. They’re going to milk starting your career for all that it’s worth.”

Richie rolled his eyes, grabbing a handful of the sour cream chips on the coffee table. Eddie gave him a disgusted look. “I thought Audra was kidding when she said those were your favourites, but I guess you do just have terrible taste.”

“Not sure what you’re surprised about, Kaspbrak.” Richie said cheekily, wedging himself in between Ben and Eddie on the couch. “You’re constantly harping on about my terrible taste. Why are you suddenly so surprised?”

Eddie made an annoyed, grumbling noise and rolled his eyes towards Ben. Ben just smiled pleasantly, but there was some sort of interested amusement behind his eyes. Richie made a point to squirm between the two of them as the movies began to kick start, until Eddie’s hand came down and slammed onto Richie’s upper thigh. He squeezed, digging his nails into muscle. Richie let out a small squeak.

“Stop fucking moving,” Eddie hissed, narrowing his eyebrow threateningly. “Or I will you cut you off at the waist and you’ll never act again.”

“Bold of you to assume I enjoy acting,” Richie said, words falling from his mouth without really thinking about it. There was something about this Kaspbrak kid that made him blurt out his much more inner thoughts that rarely let see the light of day.

Eddie wrinkled his brow, seeming to lean a little bit closer into Richie’s space. Just as Richie was getting ready to launch himself off the couch and a find a place to sit, much further away from Eddie, Audra let out a shout about the a certain scene that she always got excited about. Eddie pulled away from Richie’s space, but his hand stayed resting on Richie’s thigh. No longer squeezing, or with blunt nails digging into muscles, but simply resting there.

Richie’s body felt way too hot, and tried to focus on the romantic scene unfolding between himself and Audra’s characters on screen. It was weird to look at them, playing love interests when they’d barely known each other. Richie had still had such high expectations of fame back then, head full of stories of people falling in love with co-stars and living happily ever after. He’d been half-obsessed with Audra Phillips for half a year before he came to his senses. He may make movies for a living, but his life wasn’t a movie.

“God, these movies get worse every year,” Kay laughed, taking a hit off of the joint that Beverly handed her before easily handing it back. Eddie stared at them, gape mouthed, then turned to Richie with wide eyes. A look of concern seemed to settle over Eddie’s face, him mouthing “are you okay?” and Richie frowned.

“If these movies are so terrible,” Richie said, patting his hands onto his knees. “Then we can watch something else. Please. I beg you.”

“It’s a tradition, Tozier!” Audra cried, the joint now settling between her fingers as she giggled slightly.

“Traditions are meant to be broken.” Richie challenged, pointing at her. “Besides, it’s not a tradition for everybody here. They shouldn’t have to suffer through this crap.”

“I’m actually enjoying it,” Stan pitched in, shooting Richie a grin. “It’s nice to remember how terrible quality everything was when we were young.”

Ben let out a soft sigh. “I’ve always loved these movies. I remember being so disappointed when I found out Richie and Audra weren’t dating in real life.”

“Gross,” Richie and Audra both laughed in unison. The light, mostly carefree moment just cut through by the sound of Britney Spears’ Overprotected ringing through the room. Eddie let out a soft groan and pull his phone out of his jean pocket.

“You don’t have to answer it.” Stan stared at Eddie with serious eyes and a firm set frown.

Eddie frowned down at still ringing device. “She won’t stop until I do. Sorry guys.” Eddie stood up and looked towards Richie. “Where’s your room?”

“Last on the left.” Richie replied, clearing his throat awkwardly. Eddie nodded a little cruelty and disappeared down the hall. Richie heard his bedroom door come closed, and they could hear Eddie’s muffled voice as he answered the phone.

The others tried to keep a steady conversation going over the sound of Eddie’s phone call, but Eddie’s voice got louder and louder until they heard a very distinct, Fuck you!, followed by a thump. Richie swallowed at the rough feeling of unease that was settled in his chest now, standing up slowly.

“I’m going to go make sure he isn’t breaking any of my stuff.” Richie said softly, standing up and squeezing out of the living room full of people. He caught Stan’s eye as he walked past, not enjoying how Stan smirked at him.

He considered knocking on the door, before realizing it was a little stupid to knock on his own bedroom door and then let himself in. Eddie was sitting on the edge of Richie’s bed, staring at the iPhone resting at his feet. He didn’t look up as Richie came in.

“Hey, buddy,” Richie said lightly, moving to sit beside him. “How ya doin?”

“It was my mom.” Eddie offered up the information without being asked. Richie raised his brow and let Eddie carry on. “She just fucking… refuses to accept that I’m doing this. Keeps asking when I’m going to give this up, to come home. Always saying that I won’t make it, that I’m wasting so much money and time and that it won’t work out. It’s so… fucking irritating.”

“Yeah, parents are like that.” Richie said with a sigh. “If it means anything at all, Eddie, I think you’re doing a pretty great job. Don’t worry about what your mom thinks. You can do this shit. It’s not as hard as it sounds, you’re already more than halfway there. Prove her wrong.”

Eddie moved slightly, looking carefully at Richie’s face. Richie, in turn, was looking at Eddie wearing the clothes he’d picked out for him. Even though he didn’t need to be, he wasn’t doing anything today. He was just… wearing them.

He realized then that Eddie’s face was very close to his. “How long do you think they’re going to make us keep dating?” Eddie asked, voice barely a more than a whisper.

“Uhm.” Richie licked his bottom lip. “Probably until after your album drops. Maybe once you guys go on your first tour. That’ll be an easy way to set up a break up. Travelling and shit.”

Eddie’s hand came up to cup at Richie’s cheek, thumb stroking at his cheekbone. “So it’ll just me and you for a while then… Don’t you think we should make the most of it?”

“Eddie…” Richie breathed out but Eddie seemed to push right through his words, sealing their lips together. He leaned right into Richie’s space, letting their chest press together as he dragged his hands up from Richie’s cheeks to tangle in his hair.

Richie brought an arm around Eddie’s waist, pulling him closer and taking a moment to soak up the touch. He barely remember the last time he’d been with somebody like this, and his body screamed with excitement.

He pulled his mouth back, pressing his nose into Eddie’s cheek. He fluttered his eyes closed. “Are you sure about this, Kaspbrak?” Richie breathed out. “There’s no going back from this. This is the line.”

Eddie chuckled, Richie able to feel it against his cheek. “Dude… we’re not going to be sleeping with anybody else any time soon and you’re hot.. In a way, disaster sort of way.” Eddie pressed wet, open mouthed kisses to Richie’s cheek. “So. Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Richie squeezed Eddie’s hips and pushed him back against the mattress. Eddie’s hair fanned out over the dark comforter and Richie nipped at his bottom lip. Eddie sighed happily and rocked his hips up against Richie’s thigh. “As you wish, Eds.”

Eddie shook his head, pulling apart Richie’s shirt and tossing it towards the floor. “I’ve wanted this since that night at the bar.”

Richie waggled his eyebrows as he could Eddie’s shirt off in return. “I know,” He replied honestly. Eddie gave him an annoyed look, but Richie leaned down to run his tongue along Eddie’s chest and annoyance seeped out of him. Eddie moaned as Richie used his teeth to pull on Eddie’s trail. “Fuck…” Eddie moaned as Richie started to palm at his dick through his jeans. “Richie.”

“I knew you’d look fucking amazing in these jeans, Eds,” Richie breathed, not even entirely sure if he was speaking to Eddie in truth just letting those words hit the universe and be true. “So fucking good, these thighs… I could suffocate in them.”

Eddie kicked his legs. “Take them off, genius. Everything looks better underneath.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Richie shifted onto his knees as he pulled Eddie’s belt and zipper open, dragging the jeans down Eddie’s legs. He left his briefs in place, leaning down to press soft kisses Eddie’s cock through the fabric.

Eddie whimpered, pulling at Richie’s curls. “Fuck, Richie. Fuck. Blow me please!”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Richie was being overly arrogant and he knew it, but it made Eddie whine and buck his hips so he wasn’t worrying about it too much. “But I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

Eddie yanked on Richie’s curls. “Just make me come, jackass!”

Richie chuckled, and pulling Eddie free from his briefs. Licking at head, Richie let his eyes flutter closed and get lost in the moment. Eddie was quickly riding into his mouth, moaning and whimpering above him, and Richie was sure that he was going to come right in his pants like some idiot.

He pulled off Eddie’s cock, massaging at his balls as he used his second hand to pull his own pants open. He began to stroke at his own cock as he leaned back down to take Eddie into his mouth. Eddie began quickly bucking into his mouth, prompting Richie to groan around him.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck….” Eddie’s thighs were trembling around Richie’s head and he could feel Eddie’s stomach caving in with every breath he took. Richie knew it was coming even if Eddie didn’t warn him. He moaned as Eddie released into his mouth, the feeling ripping an orgasm from Richie’s overly excited body.  

When Eddie whimpered from overstimulation, Richie pulled back and whipped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Eddie stared at him with wide eyes. “Oh my God, did you swallow that?”

Richie blinked at him blankly. “I mean… you didn’t give me make of a choice there, Edward.”

Eddie flushed deeply and glanced towards the door to Richie’s bedroom. “Do you think they heard us?”

“You weren’t exactly quiet.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Just like that.”

[letterboxd]

Family.

“We’re trying to say: stop thinking about Manson as the embodiment of all evil. If he got a record deal, maybe nobody would have died.”

Jack Moulton talks cults, Trump and noise-cancelling headphones with American actress and screenwriter Guinevere Turner. Charlie Says is her latest film with frequent collaborator, Canadian director Mary Harron.

Of the serial-killer films currently in release, Charlie Says is the one that puts a strong focus on the women who often remain in the background of these retellings. Leslie Van Houten (Hannah Murray), Patricia Krenwinkel (Sosie Bacon), and Susan Atkins (Marianne Rendón)—the three women who killed for Charles Manson (Matt Smith)—are imprisoned in isolation in a California penitentiary, as well as psychologically imprisoned by Manson’s delusional ideas.

Then graduate student Karlene Faith (Merritt Wever) is given the job of rehabilitating the young women—as long as they are prepared to confront the horrors of their actions.

Turner co-wrote the 90s urban indie lesbian feature Go Fish directed by Rose Troche, which preceded her meeting with Harron. Charlie Says is their most recent collaboration, having partnered previously on American Psycho and The Notorious Bettie Page.

What interested you in writing a film about Charles Manson? Guinevere Turner: When the producers met with me they said they wanted to focus on the women as we definitely never got a sense of a story told from their perspective before. Once I found Karlene Faith’s book The Long Prison Journey of Leslie Van Houten [Faith’s study of the rehabilitation process and elongated incarceration of the three Manson Family girls], I saw a whole side of the story that literally never gets represented.

I got very excited that I could make a good movie out of this and it would also be an interesting commentary on what it says about society that we always treated these women like they’re interchangeable. Nobody’s ever asked “what happened to them?”, “what made them do what they did?” and more importantly “why did we stop talking about them?”. We never stopped talking to Charlie! There was a real opportunity to talk about men and women, who and when we pay attention to historically.

Did you get the chance to work with Karlene Faith in person before she passed away [in May 2017]? Yes, she was fantastic. It took a while to persuade her into talking to me at first. I slowly gained her trust via email, then we would talk on the phone, and eventually I would be visiting her apartment in Vancouver and we became friends. For about two years we were as thick as thieves.

Her book was obviously a huge resource but she was also useful for research as she was a woman of that time. She gave me a great visual, listening to her activist life outside of prison. When she met the girls for the first time she had all these assumptions that they were gonna be freaky psycho-killers and she was blown away by how sweet they were. She was immediately turned by them and she wanted to help them.

What were some of the unexpected realities of living in a cult environment that you wanted to portray? So I grew up in a cult environment as you probably knew so I assume that’s why you ask that question. [Ms. Turner spent the first eleven years of her life as part of the Lyman Family. They were devotees of Mel Lyman who believed he and his commune members would eventually live on the planet Venus. Though parted from her mother after birth, she and her younger sister were ejected from the Family when her mother eventually decided to leave. Ms. Turner considered returning at eighteen but chose to go to college instead.]

Yes, I read the article in The New Yorker. For me, I was excited to bring this knowledge in my DNA of what it’s really like living in that environment to represent both the good and the bad parts. You have those semi-orgy scenes and people doing acid, but also scenes where everyone is sitting around for dinner. That grounds it a little more. At the end of the day, it is a family—albeit an infamously weird one—but it is a bunch of people trying to live together.

While there’s the “everyday” quality to it I also wanted to show the volatility. It can be beautifully tranquil one moment and then turn on the dime into something scary and destabilizing. I feel like those things were true of my childhood. Mary Harron heard me talking about my upbringing for decades and she would always say “you should write about it”. I didn’t want to write about it specifically, but when I found this movie I thought I could bring something personal to the project that no other screenwriter could.

We’re curious about how you like to write. What music do you listen to while you work and are there any films you used as inspiration? I can’t listen to anything when I’m writing. I have noise-cancelling headphones that don’t cancel noise enough. I could live in an actual sensory deprivation tank while I write and I would be so happy, but unfortunately you can’t bring computers underwater. So, no music.

I watched a lot of movies of the era, especially unconventional movies about Jesus such as Jesus Christ Superstar (1973). Those were interesting aesthetically.

There’s a shot in the movie where they’re walking up the side of this mountain and I just loved that iconography. We were short for time on the day and I pleaded with Mary to make it happen. It made me so happy that it became one of the images they use for the promotion of the film. It does feel like this biblical journey and we were trying to capture that vibe.

What do you do to ensure the female gaze is considered from the script? I find a lot of that is intuitive. For example in this script, there has to be nudity but you notice that every time someone is naked in this movie it’s really uncomfortable. That’s one thing in terms of subverting male gaze, is that there’s no way that any person could see those scenes as objectifying the body for more than a nanosecond because of what’s happening.

It’s all about power, so I like that it’s portrayed as being uneasy. Even when Matt Smith is naked, Charlie is exerting power over someone else and she’s repulsed by him. That’s one of my favorite scenes in the movie.

How does your acting background feed into the way you write your characters? I think because I’m an actor I deeply feel the reality of what’s available for the average female actor to play. There’s tons of “someone’s girlfriend” and all the tropes, so for me when I’m writing I’m asking myself what about this is going to make an actor say “yes please, let me play that part!”.

I need to present something complex and challenging that they don’t often see. As someone who’s auditioned for many characters that I thought were poorly written, I try and give even the small parts something that will make an actor excited to play them.

What makes your creative partnership with Mary Harron work so well? It’s funny because we’ve never really asked ourselves that. Of course in the last week we’ve been asked that a lot while we’re in the same room and we look at each other like confused animals going “why does it work?”.

We realize that we have a similar sense of humor so we laugh a lot even while we’re writing all this dark stuff. The main factor is that we really trust each other. One of the hardest things about collaborating is that you’re not sure if someone is shooting down your idea because it doesn’t work or they’re jealous that it’s good. You need to trust that you can test stupid ideas with them.

When we first met in 1996 [shortly after Harron’s directing debut I Shot Andy Warhol and Turner’s writing debut Go Fish] we immediately had an affinity for each other and started writing together. It was as easy the first time we tried it as it is now. There’s not even much of an evolution. I feel really lucky for that because as a screenwriter it certainly means I have a lot more access to the movie than usual because the director is always checking in with me.

Despite all of the bleakness, it’s clear in the film that these women just wanted to be loved. There’s such a deep sympathy for them. What interests you about the line of responsibility for those influenced by dangerous charismatic leaders? I’d say everything about that interests me.

I’m drawing parallels to politics today such as the alt-right people that Trump influences, for example. We’re seeing echoes where people are mindlessly following a person who is validating evil, dangerous, and disgusting ideas. For these women I had to constantly remind myself that they did commit these horrible crimes.

I feel like Charles Manson and Donald Trump are apples and oranges except for the fact that they strike me as people where their only real fuel is power and that half the time they don’t know what they’re doing or saying, they’re just terrified of losing it. They almost have no internal life. They just feel when they have the power and when the power may be taken away and what they do to keep it makes people do terrible things. It’s like an addiction.

Matt Smith as Charles Manson in ‘Charlie Says’.

I’m sure you’re painfully aware that we have four Charles Manson films coming out in a short space of time. There’s Tate, The Haunting of Sharon Tate, and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, though I’m certain Charlie Says was conceived before all of these. How do you feel about being a part of this cycle? I started writing the movie in 2014 and most of the time movies are made two years later but that’s not how it worked out for various logistical reasons. So on the one hand, I cringe that it’s the 50th anniversary [of Sharon Tate’s murder] and that’s when our movie’s coming out—it feels tacky but it’s definitely not on purpose.

Which seems to be very deliberate on Tarantino’s part… But the way independent films work is that you try and get them made until you get them produced. You don’t have these luxuries of when exactly they’re going to come out. That said, we have landed in a zeitgeist moment which is nice in terms of people paying attention to the movie. I don’t know much about Once Upon a Time in Hollywood but I’m sure Tarantino has a radically different approach from ours.

While they share some similarities, your depiction of Charles Manson doesn’t work in quite the same way as American Psycho’s Patrick Bateman. How did you decide the ways you wanted to humanize Manson? I think the first thing that’s similar between how we portrayed these two characters is that while they’re these powerful frightening people, we’re demystifying them and grounding them in an essential pathetic loserness. Mary and I don’t talk about how we can make another movie that takes down toxic masculinity, that’s just where we end up sometimes.

With American Psycho the stakes of social responsibility were different. We were asking people to put your baggage with the book away, we’re women making this, and we are trying to turn it into something that’s a critique of masculinity in a funny and dark way.

For Charlie Says we’re trying to say: stop thinking about Manson as the embodiment of all evil. We want to stop giving him that power and show that he was a conman who was just a failed musician. If he got a record deal, maybe nobody would have died.

Christian Bale as Patrick Bateman in ‘American Psycho’ (2000).

I have to say, American Psycho holds up really well for the Trump era. One could argue that it works better now than when it came out.

How do you respond to the way you’ve already satirized these sociopaths in power and how that affected the increasing appreciation for the film over the years? It’s gratifying, because [American Psycho] was not particularly well loved when it came out. That’s disheartening when you work hard on a project that you think is more worthy. That said, it being more relevant now is terrifying. I watched the movie again recently and there’s a little part of you that cringes when we make Trump jokes because Donald Trump was a different kind of funny at the time.

‘Charlie Says’ is in US cinemas now, and available on VOD and digital from May 17.

[dirtdoesntneedluck]

Second Futurama Script

I wrote a script for an episode of Futurama a couple month’s back, inspired by writing that first one I started a second, got stuck on where to go and have only a few weeks back finished it off. I don’t think it’s as good as the first (I don’t know if either are that good, but still) however I thought I’d share it regardless. Feel free to criticize it, all opinions are welcome, as long as it’s not a personal attack then I’m fine with it, we all have opinions on episodes of the actual show, so why should this be different?

Be warned, it’s 30 pages on Word so it’s a long read, it’s your choice, you don’t have to. For reference: Italics are description, bold is who’s talking, normal is dialogue, (Under name is the way the line is delivered).

(Disclaimer: I obviously don’t own the rights to Futurama, this is a non-profit idea and simply a writing exercise to keep me amused, so I believe it falls within fair use, please don’t sue! If you want me to take it down, I will.)

OPENING CREDITS

CAPTION: (Typing onto the screen) HELP! THEY CAUGH- (Previous text is deleted, replaced by-) NOTHING TO READ HERE. CARRY ON.

BILLBOARD CARTOON: ‘The Laughing Fish’ from ‘Batman: The Animated Series’.

EXT. PLANET EXPRESS – DAY

Low shot on the building as several ships fly overhead.

INT. LOUNGE, PLANET EXPRESS – SAME TIME

The crew, minus Farnsworth, are sat watching the TV, but not really paying attention as they do other things

ON THE TV: Morbo and Linda present the news.

MORBO

-Sending prices skyrocketing again.

LINDA

(laughs)

I’m just glad I’m rich.

(pause)

Turning to more serious news and the late night robbery of a liquor store by a swarthy Latin bandit.

Everyone perks up and turns to Bender, who shrugs.

BENDER

Nope, wasn’t me.

They’re still staring.

BENDER

What? I can’t commit every robbery. I have a lot of scams to run.

Farnsworth enters. Fry turns off the TV.

FARNSWORTH

(happy)

Horrifying and terrible news everyone! We’re all certain to be killed!

The crew cheer, it takes them a few moments to separate the tone from the words.

LEELA

Wait a second, what do you mean killed?

FARNSWORTH

That’s right, killed.

FRY

Well, I can’t complain, I did live a thousand years.

FARNSWORTH

Alternatively however it may simply be-

(happy)

Good news everybody!

(normal)

And no one will be killed at all.

Bender tuts, half way through engraving a headstone, it reads: ZOIDBERG, FISH MONSTER, UNBELOVED BY ALL.

BENDER

Make your mind up, which is it?

FARNSWORTH

It all depends on the success, or lack thereof, of your latest mission. A delivery to the warring planets of Alpha-Zeta and Beta-Omega. Two delightful little places located in the cheerfully named ‘Murder Zone’.

FRY

What bit am I supposed to understand here?

FARNSWORTH

Only that they exist a mere 100 miles apart and have been fighting over a perceived slight perhaps committed by one, or the other of them, sometime in the past. No ship has ever gone directly between the two planets, as anyone having been to either is labelled a threat by both. Luckily, however, I’ve prepared disguises for you and the ship so you can blend in on both planets.

FRY

Cool, disguises, I understood that part. Can I be a pirate?

FARNSWORTH

No.

LEELA

What are we delivering?

FARNSWORTH

Both planets are being delivered the same items, parts for there large manufacturing plants. So it’s vitally important you don’t give them the wrong package, otherwise you’ll be killed on the spot.

LEELA

(confused)

Okay?

AMY

Wait, I thought you said we’d all be killed?

FARNSWORTH

No, only Fry, Leela and Bender will be killed.

HERMES

So what about us?

FARNSWORTH

We’re all going to take Nibbler for a walk, get ice-cream and have a generally pleasant time.

Amy, Zoidberg and Hermes cheer as they exit the room with Nibbler and Farnsworth. Fry, Leela and Bender sit, annoyed.

BENDER

Well this sucks.

They continue to sit. Farnsworth pops his head back in.

FARNSWORTH

Well, what are you waiting for? I’m not paying you not to be killed.

EXT. PLANET EXPRESS SHIP – LATER

The ship idles a little way off from the twin planets of Alpha-Zeta (left) and Beta-Omega (right). A-Z seems to be covered in a thick smoke, where as B-O is incredibly clean, you can practical spot the people on the street.

INT. CARGO BAY, PLANET EXPRESS SHIP – SAME TIME

Leela, Bender and Fry stand in the middle of the room, between the sets of clothes and packages for both planets. A-Z’s are very old looking, like something from Victorian London. B-O’s look is ultra modern, all clean and sharp edges.

LEELA

Alright gang these are the disguises we’ll have to wear. Alpha-Zeta first then Beta-Omega.

Fry picks up a pair of trousers from B-O’s side, there baggy, the only item from there outfit which doesn’t seem to fit.

FRY

Look at these clothes, they sure are goofy.

LEELA

Fry, it’s not for us to judge what these people wear, besides they aren’t goofy, there just weird.

BENDER

(laughs)

Well, I’m just glad I don’t have to wear anything.

LEELA

Actually Bender, the professor said we had to re-spray you for both planets.

BENDER

(grumbles)

Fine.

Fry picks up a giant stencil and wraps it around Bender, Leela then uses spray paint to fill the gaps.

Completed the stencil comes off and Bender is now covered by a lot of light brown markings, he looks in a mirror.

BENDER

Well I still look better than you two do.

Leela and Fry have changed in the interim, it’s all drab grey’s and browns. Leela wears a flat cap that covers her hair and Fry has some raggedy fingerless gloves on. Both of them, despite the nature of there top half and shoes, are wearing very thin black trousers.

FRY

That’s for sure, this cotton is real rough.

Fry itches, quite uncomfortable.

LEELA (O.S)

Don’t forget your moustache, Fry.

Leela throws Fry and identical moustache to the one she’s wearing. It’s a thick brushed early 1900’s design.

FRY

What’s this for?

LEELA

The air quality down there stinks and so does the planet, these will help us to breathe and release a blast of strawberry every few minutes.

Fry has put his moustache on. Can smell strawberry’s.

FRY

Oh, nice.

LEELA

Bender you’ll-

Bender has already equipped a stick on handlebar moustache.

BENDER

Way ahead of ya.

LEELA

Alright, that just leaves the ship.

Leela press a button on the side of the hull, which...

EXT. PLANET EXPRESS SHIP – CONTINUOUS

...sees tiny little lights pop up out of the ship. They turn on creating a hologram. In this case the ship looks like a steam punk version of itself.

It heads towards A-Z.

EXT. SIDE STREET, A-Z – A LITTLE WHILE LATER

The ship carefully lands. The buildings here are made of stone and sit very close together. There longer than they are tall.

EXT. STREETS, A-Z – A FEW MINUTES LATER

Fry carries the package as he, Leela and Bender stride on. They seem to fit in well, aside from the trousers.

Smoke hangs just over head height. It means the residents of this planet, who are quite tall, have developed a forward lean, always looking down.

FRY

I’ve never seen so much smoke.

BENDER

Then some more won’t matter.

Bender lights his cigar and puffs out yet more smoke.

LEELA

Bender, you shouldn’t be revelling in the plight of these downtrodden people, you should be trying to help them.

BENDER

I don’t see you leading the charge.

LEELA

Hey, I give to charity you know.

FRY

You do? Which one?

LEELA

How should I know?

EXT. A-Z MANAFACTURING PLANT – A FEW MINUTES LATER

A large sign hangs above the plant: APLHA-ZETA MANUFACTURING CONCERN (NOT AFFILIATED WITH MOM CORP.). Only ‘not’ is in red whereas the rest of the words are in white.

Fry, Leela and Bender wander through the area until they reach the main door, it’s oddly short.

Leela presses the call button on the intercom.

LEELA

(male voice)

Planet Express.

Its a few seconds and then the door opens, they enter.

INT. CORRIDOR, A-Z MANAFACTURING PLANT – CONTINUOUS

Leela and Fry instantly have to lean forwards like the locals. The corridor is low because they’ve no need for the extra head space. All Bender has done is shorten his legs.

FRY

I think my spine just compressed.

LEELA

Mine too. Let’s get this over quick.

BENDER

(laughing)

You guys are always proving why your the infer-

Bender walks right into a low hanging light.

BENDER

Ow!

RECEPTION ROOM – MOMENTS LATER

The trio emerge into a slightly taller area. A woman sits behind a desk, is instantly suspicious of them.

RECEPTIONIST

You’re the delivery crew?

FRY

Sure are.

RECEPTIONIST

Right.

She’s unconvinced for some reason, exits the room into the office behind it.

LEELA

(low)

What’s that about?

BENDER

Fry, you idiot!

FRY

What?

BENDER

I dunno, do I need an excuse?

The receptionist returns, false smile on her face.

RECEPTIONIST

Please enter.

Leela leads Fry and Bender into the office.

OFFICE – CONTINUOUS

The office is again slightly taller. The height of a room here defines the occupant’s social standing.

The plant manager stands behind his desk. He watches as figures approach the frosted window that separates this room from the reception area.

PLANT MANAGER

So, you’re the delivery crew?

FRY

(slightly worried)

Sure are.

PLANT MANAGER

Uh huh.

Fry steps forwards and hands over the package.

PLANT MANAGER

(suspicious)

Let’s see, shall we?

The manager opens the package, is surprised to find it’s exactly what he wanted.

PLANT MANAGER

How about that. It’s what I asked for.

BENDER

Of course it is. What were you expecting?

Bender’s comment is ignored. The manager sinks to his desk and uses the phone, an old rotary model, talks very softly into it. The figures behind the frosted glass leave.

The manager gets back up.

PLANT MANAGER

Alright then, cheerio.

EXT. MANUFACTURING PLANT – A FEW MINUTES LATER

Fry, Leela and Bender walk out of the door and back into the smoke ridden area they were before. Bender extends his legs back to normal height.

LEELA

That was odd, right?

FRY

Definitely.

BENDER

They sure didn’t trust us.

LEELA

Maybe the professor was right. We’d better be careful.

They head back towards the ship, aware that there receiving a lot of attention.

EXT. PLANET EXPRESS SHIP – LATER

The ship fly’s from A-Z and stops a safe distance away. Off goes the first holographic design, replaced by the second, the ship now looks ultra modern, sleek and clean.

INT. CARGO BAY, PLANET EXPRESS SHIP – SAME TIME

Fry and Leela have changed outfits. Again, the trousers don’t seem to fit. As for their hair it’s pushed way up to a point, like a cone.

Bender is cleaned and then re-sprayed in the same manner as before. This time he looks a little like R2-D2.

EXT. METROPOLITAN CITY, B-O – A LITTLE LATER

The ship has no trouble landing, spaces are plentiful.

STREETS – LATER

Fry, Leela and Bender wander through the city. Its inhabitants are tall like their neighbours only they stand straight, making them almost eleven foot. It’s not only their height but their gaze, everyone looks up.

FRY

I wonder what it’s like being that tall?

Bender extends his legs up, reaching the height of the people around him. Its a few seconds before he comes back down, tear in his eye.

BENDER

It’s great.

LEELA

Did you see the building up there?

He extends again, comes down crying.

BENDER

Next left.

EXT. B-O MANUFACTURING PLANT – MINUTES LATER

This place is taller than any skyscraper on earth and it’s not even the biggest building here. It has almost the same sign to the first plant: BETA-OMEGA MANUFACTURING CONCERN (NOT AFFILIATED WITH MOM CORP.).

Leela, Fry and Bender approach the door. The intercom is too high for Leela to reach.

LEELA

Bender?

Bender lowers himself. Leela gets on his shoulders and then holds on as he extends his legs.

Fry is left alone for a few moments, can’t quite here the conversation but it’s the same as before.

Leela and Bender come back down hugging and crying.

LEELA

Fry, it’s great up there.

The door opens.

INT. CORRIDOR, MANUFACTURING PLANT – MOMENTS LATER

This plant doesn’t look like it needs any parts, it’s almost fully automated. The crew head down the huge corridor.

RECEPTION AREA – MOMENTS LATER

Fry, Leela and Bender enter. A male receptionist sits at his desk. Looks down his nose to see them.

MALE RECEPTIONIST

You’re the delivery crew?

The tone is the same as before, the crew share a look.

LEELA

Sure are.

MALE RECEPTIONIST

A moment.

The receptionist exits into the office behind.

LEELA

So-

FRY

Yeah-

BENDER

Right-

There on the same uneasy page as the receptionist re-emerges.

MALE RECEPTIONIST

Enter, please.

OFFICE – MOMENTS LATER

A very tall room. The manager sits at his desk to make it easier for him to inspect Fry, Leela and Bender.

MANAGER

Well, it seems you’re the delivery crew.

LEELA

(strong)

Sure are.

MANAGER

All right then.

Fry walks the package over. To the tall manager it’s very small. He opens it keenly, looks stunned.

MANAGER

The supplies?

BENDER

(to Fry and Leela)

Jeez, what do these people think there getting?

MANAGER

If you’d stay there a moment.

It’s a nervous few moments as they wait. The manager speaks hush tones into the phone.

The doors open, two security guards enter. The trio gulp.

EXT. PLANET EXPRESS SHIP – LATER

The ship, normal livery, heads away from the two planets.

INT. COCKPIT, PLANET EXPRESS SHIP – SAME TIME

The cork of a champagne bottle is popped. Leela pours the drink into three separate glasses. She takes one, Fry and Bender the others. They wear two medals each, clean gold and dirty bronze.

LEELA

Heroes! Can you believe it!?

FRY

I knew that psychic wasn’t lying!

BENDER

Yet another achievement for me to add to the list.

They clink glasses, down the champagne.

Leela picks up a copy of the B-O paper, the headline reads: PACKAGE DELIVERY COMPANY DELIVERS PEACE BETWEEN PLANETS. The picture is of the crew standing with the leaders of the planets A-Z and B-O, who shake hands.

LEELA

I can’t wait until everyone knows!

FRY

Finally I can make my nephew proud of me.

BENDER

This calls for only one thing.

Fry and Leela wait to know what that is. Bender opens his compartment and takes out two more bottles of champagne.

BENDER

MORE CHAMPAGNE!

Bender shakes both bottles until the corks pop and the champagne flies out.

INT. OFFICE, MOM CORP. – LATER THAT DAY

A robot butler pours more champagne into Mom’s glass. She soaks in a bubble bath, watching a TV the size of a cinema screen. On her left is a case of dodo eggs, she picks one out, dips it in caviar and then eats it like an apple.

ON THE TV: Morbo and Linda are reporting the news.

MORBO

Surprising news just coming in from the ‘Murder Zone’, Linda?

MOM

I feel richer already.

Single on Linda, the picture from the paper beside her.

LINDA

That’s right, Morbo. It seems a package delivery crew has brokered a peace deal between warring planet’s Alpha-Zeta and Beta-Omega. This has-

MOM

(screaming)

WALT! GET ME FARNSWORTH!

WALT (O.S)

Philo or Hubert?

MOM

HUBERT!!

EXT. PLANET EXPRESS – THE NEXT DAY

The ship arrives rather sloppily into dock.

INT. LANDING BAY, PLANET EXPRESS – MOMENTS LATER

Noise can be heard before the crew comes down the stairs. All three are drunk. Eight bottles of champagne will do that to a person. Their arrival is something of a farce.

When they do focus, slightly, they find a furious Farnsworth standing waiting for them.

FRY

Good news, professor?

FARNSWORTH

No, not good news at all. The opposite in fact. Bad news.

LEELA

(laughing)

Bad news everyone?

FARNSWORTH

Yes. You’re all fired.

That sobered them a little.

BENDER

Fired?

Mom enters, bucket of water in each hand.

MOM

FIRED!

She throws the water over Fry, Leela and Bender.

READY AREA – LATER

Leela and Fry are still soaking, though drying off with towels. They sit with Bender as Mom strides angrily around the room. Farnsworth watches on.

MOM

What exactly did you numbskulls do to broker peace?

FRY

Nothing, we just delivered a package to each planet.

MOM

Nonsense, you must have done more than that?

LEELA

No, we really didn’t.

MOM

Hubert! What did you tell them to do?

FARNSWORTH

Nothing.

Mom picks up the B-O paper, rolls it to hit Farnsworth with. Unfurls it to show him to front again.

MOM

This isn’t nothing!

Farnsworth looks at the picture. With Mom stressing him he really pays attention. Something clicks.

FARNSWORTH

Which planet did you go to second?

LEELA

Beta-Omega.

FARNSWORTH

(of picture)

And this is what you wore to it?

LEELA

Yes?

FARNSWORTH

God lord! You were wearing the trousers for Alpha-Zeta on Beta-Omega!

FRY

That’s how they were laid out?

FARNSWORTH

It was?

LEELA

Yes.

FARNSWORTH

My word. With you wearing the wrong trousers on each planet, they both must have thought you were ambassadors from the other. The resulting niceness fostered an atmosphere of peace between them.

MOM

Destroying my manufacturing concerns on both.

FRY

Don’t you make, like, a billion dollars a minute anyway?

MOM

Not since you screwed everything up I don’t!

BENDER

Then just start another scam. I’ve got a great one going with-

Mom takes out a remote, points it at Bender, presses a button to shock him.

MOM

Enough!

LEELA

What exactly do you want from us?

MOM

To re-start that war!

LEELA

And why would we do that? Both planets are going to be much better off without it.

Mom shocks Bender again.

BENDER

Shut up, Leela!

MOM

You’re going to do it because if you don’t I’ll not only destroy this company but the lives of everyone who works here!

FRY

(shocked)

Even Scruffy?

MOM

Especially Scruffy.

Scruffy, who’s been stood just out of shot the whole time, looks very concerned.

SCRUFFY

I reckon you kids better go cause war.

He wanders off.

MOM

You have three days. Starting from two days ago.

FRY

(confused)

So we have?

MOM

ONE DAY, IDIOT!

Mom storms off.

FARNSWORTH

Okay, you heard the mean lady.

MOM (O.S)

AND SHE HEARD YOU!

FARNSWORTH

I’d better be going.

Farnsworth scurries away.

INT. FRY AND BENDER’S PLACE – LATER

Leela paces up and down the room. Fry sits nervously beside a far calmer Bender, who sips a beer.

LEELA

We are catastrophically boned.

FRY

Got that right, I don’t want to start a war.

BENDER

Why not? Plenty of money to be made from war.

LEELA

No Bender, no wars.

BENDER

Just a little one?

LEELA

No.

BENDER

Fine. Then I’ll guess we’ll just let Mom destroy our lives.

LEELA

We’re not doing that either.

FRY

Then what are we doing?

LEELA

I don’t know.

FRY

Why does Mom even want a war?

LEELA

That’s a good question. We should find out. She’s bound to have files we can steal.

BENDER

How? Mom has the best security out there?

FRY

It’d take some kind of thief to pull off that job.

BENDITO (O.S)

Perhaps I can help?

On a wire above them is BENDITO, a bending unit with a thin moustache and an eye patch covering a missing left eye. He drops down. He’s like a more suave Bender.

BENDER

Bendito! What are you doing here?

LEELA

Bender you know this bending unit?

BENDER

Are you kidding? Bendito’s my mortal enemy.

BENDITO

We’re also in the same book club.

FRY

Why are you here?

BENDITO

Bender scammed me. I came to even the score.

LEELA

Bender is this true?

BENDER

Do you even need to ask?

BENDITO

You cost me a grand total of three dollars.

From his compartment Bendito takes out the medals earned earlier.

BENDITO

These shall suffice as compensation.

FRY

Hey, those are my medals!

BENDITO

I found them in Bender’s room?

LEELA

Bender you stol-

(thinks about it)

Of course you did.

BENDITO

(handing medals to Fry)

My apologies.

BENDER

So, you gonna help us break into Mom Corp.?

BENDITO

Why should I?

BENDER

It’ll be fun.

BENDITO

I’ll do it.

INT. CAFE ACROSS FROM MOM CORP. – THAT NIGHT

Bender, Bendito, Fry and Leela occupy a window booth that looks out towards Mom’s. They plot the potential heist.

BENDITO

According to my source-

BENDER

“Source”? You mean the robot mafia?

BENDITO

(sighs)

Yes. The robot mafia.

(starting again)

According to them the system installed in the offices works on facial recognition. If we can fool them, by dressing up as Mom and her sons we’ll have a small window to hack the computer.

LEELA

How do we get in?

BENDITO

According to a different source-

BENDER

Elzar? Is it Elzar? Sometimes Elzar cooks there, you’re talking about Elzar, right? I know you know Elzar.

BENDITO

(louder sigh)

Yes, Bender. Elzar, I talked to Elzar! Any other questions?

The waitress passes by.

WAITRESS

Refill?

BENDITO

No.

A robot in the next booth turns round.

RANDOM ROBOT

What’s two times three?

BENDITO

Six.

FRY

Why does a robot need an eye patch, can’t you just replace your eye?

BENDITO

It’s a style choice.

(pauses waiting for more questions)

Any more questions?

BENDER

We’ll ask the questions here.

BENDITO

(even louder sigh)

Anyway. Elzar says there’s an express elevator exclusive to Mom. If we can convince the operator that Leela is Mom we can gain access to the penthouse.

FRY

I wanted to be Mom.

BENDITO

Leela is Mom. Bender is Larry. I’ll play Walt and Fry you’ll be Igner.

FRY

Igner?

BENDER

Larry?

LEELA

Fine with me.

BENDITO

Then it’s settled.

EXT. MOM CORP. – A LITTLE LATER

The group are now dressed as there respective characters. Leela wears sunglasses to cover her eye. Bender and Bendito are very obviously robots. Fry actually looks like Igner.

BENDER

At least if we get caught we’ll have funny mug shots.

FRY

There’s a relief.

LEELA

Will you two shut up?

BENDER

Someone’s already in character.

LEELA

What do you mean?

BENDER

Nothing, ‘Mom’.

They enter the building.

INT. FOYER, MOM CORP. – CONTINUOUS

This place is a lot busier then they were expecting. They walk as quickly as possible to the back and the waiting lift. A robot in a suit operates it.

LIFT ROBOT

Back already, Mom?

There are quick glances between each other, they’ve totally forgot to check if Mom was even out. Leela reacts fast.

LEELA

(sweet Mom)

Oh yes, uh, deary, we forgot the candies.

LIFT ROBOT

You and those candies.

The robot moves to let them into the lift, joins them.

LIFT

The doors shut. The five of them are closed in without the chance of escape, a most dangerous time. This is tempered somewhat by Bender whispering something about Leela being like Mom to Fry and Bendito, they chuckle to themselves.

Something else is said, the chuckles become laughs. Leela becomes annoyed. Turns.

LEELA

(mean Mom)

Will you knuckleheads knock that off?

Leela swings a slap that connects on the cheek of all three of them. Is oddly satisfied by it.

She turns back to see the Lift Robot minding his business.

LEELA

(sweet Mom)

Boy’s need discipline is what I always say.

LIFT ROBOT

Yes, Mom.

PENTHOUSE – MOMENTS LATER

The lift opens. All bar the lift robot flood out.

LEELA

(sweet Mom)

We’ll be but a minute.

The lift door shuts. Now they’re in the clear.

FRY

So, ouch.

LEELA

I’m starting to like being Mom.

BENDER

Already got the mood swings down.

He laughs, gets slapped by Leela.

BENDER

See?

She slaps him again.

OFFICE – A MINUTE LATER

The group are in the office. Bendito searches the computer without success. Fry watches the wall of security screens.

BENDITO

Nothing yet.

LEELA

Hurry up, who knows when she’ll be back.

Leela looks around, nervous, spots Bender rifling through a filing cabinet.

LEELA

Bender, what are you doing?

BENDER

I was trying to find my warranty but all I keep coming up with are replies to letters.

LEELA

Which letters?

She walks over and picks out a letter, it’s from Alpha-Zeta, dated a hundred years ago. She finds a different one, Beta-Omega, again, a hundred years old.

LEELA

Praise to Athena. These are replies from the two planets. Mom must have sent letters to them and started the war. We could expose her totally with these. Good work, Bender.

BENDER

Even when I not trying I’m a genius.

FRY

Hey look, it’s the people we’re dressed as.

ON A SECURITY SCREEN: Mom and her sons approach the lift.

BENDER

We gotta cheese it.

LEELA

How, we’re on the top floor?

FRY

Bendito-

They turn to find Bendito has left the office already.

PENTHOUSE

Fry, Leela and Bender emerge from the office to find Bendito slowly opening one of the windows. He turns, caught.

BENDITO

Oh, hi.

(pause)

So I can explain.

MOM (O.S)

Can you?

Exiting the lift are Mom, Larry, Igner and Walt.

MOM

(to Leela)

Well, well, it’s like looking in an ugly, one eyed mirror.

BENDITO

(taking offence)

How dare you.

MOM

Quiet, Bendito.

LEELA

It’s over Mom. We found the letters.

MOM

So I started a war so each side would buy equipment from me, who gives a crap? I’ve seen war start for a lot less.

(laughs)

How exactly are you going to leave with those letters anyway?

Fry, Leela and Bender look to one another, they have no idea. Leela catches Bendito edging towards the open window, spots his escape plan, a good old fashioned rope.

LEELA

I think the real question is. How are you going to catch us?

Leela rushes Fry and Bender to the window, together with a late reacting Bendito they grab the rope and begin to slide down it.

CUT BETWEEN PENTHOUSE AND EXT. MOM CORP.

Everyone is sliding down the rope at pace, but the building is huge, there not even a quarter way down.

FRY

(getting rope burn)

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.

Mom looks down from the window at them.

MOM

Idiots.

She unties the rope. It slackens.

LEELA

Um, guys.

Everyone looks as the rope passes them by.

FRY

That’s bad, right?

Everyone bar Leela starts screaming, she has to think fast.

LEELA

Everyone grab on to my legs.

They do. Leela slips through the Mom dress, still wearing her normal clothes beneath, and grabs the bottom of each side of it. It catches the air and becomes a makeshift parachute.

Mom stares at them as they float away.

MOM

What the crap? I didn’t know I could do that?

EXT. SKY – CONTINUOUS

Leela is barely clinging on to the dress, she’s being weighed down too much, it’s starting to affect the altitude.

LEELA

We’re too heavy.

FRY

(offended)

What are you trying to say?

BENDER

Wait, I have an idea.

Bender spots the roof of a building coming up. He kicks Bendito off of Leela’s leg. He drops.

BENDITO

(falling)

See you Thursday.

Bendito lands with a thud on the roof. The gang laugh as they begin to gain altitude.

EXT. PLANET EXPRESS – DAY

We whip around the building.

INT. LOUNGE, PLANET EXPRESS – SAME TIME

The whole crew sit around watching the news on TV.

MORBO

Mom stock took a dip today as letters emerged showing her to have set the war between Alpha-Zeta and Beta-Omega in motion almost a hundred years ago. However Mom stock trebled in value just hours later when war broke out between Sigma-Epsilon and Kappa-Tau.

Leela turns off the TV, disgusted.

LEELA

Typical, we stop one war just to cause another.

FRY

But at least it’s not the same war, right?

BENDER

The important thing is it’s not happening here.

FRY

Amen.

LEELA

Ugh.

CUT TO CREDITS

[tomionekinkmeme]

Samhain 2k18 - In Dreams

A/N: Modern Muggle AU

Tick. Tock. Tick…. Tock….

The clock was mocking her, she was sure of it. Why call it the face of a clock afterall? If not to represent the laughing, taunting nature of father time.

Hermione Granger had been awake for 5 days straight, her body vibrating with energy in defense of mounting exhaustion. She did not suffer from insomnia or some other sleep disorder. Yet she haunted the house like a wraith, silently drifting from room to room, always moving. She was not cramming all day and night for exams or crying over a failed relationship. No, the reason why Hermione refused to close her eyes, to lie down in any position resembling horizontal, was that every night she went to bed, she died a horrific death.

Well, maybe not literally, but in dreams she witnessed the last hours of countless victims, a passenger seeing through their eyes as they met a grisly end. Every dream was so vivid, each victim and murder unique.

The nightmares began about a month ago or was that two?

The days now ran together in her dazed state, time a viscous liquid that she waded through so slowly, she often wondered if she was moving at all. She would fight the siren call of sleep for as long as she could, drinking coffee, energy drinks, exercising, but eventually she couldn’t help but to give in to it’s honeyed promises of peaceful slumber.

She could still remember the first dream like it was yesterday, it all started with a girl named Ginny.

Flashing white bulbs and neon colored signs competed for attention everywhere she looked. It was as if she were submerged under water, the lighting diffused with a soft glow. The evening held a dreamy quality to it, the wind whipping fiery red strands into her face that she pushed behind her ear. Sounds though sharp, were muffled and distorted, the noise putting her on edge. Various songs blared from worn out speakers as they passed, people all around were talking animatedly and laughing.

Her arm was entwined with a young man who had messy black hair. His green eyes crinkled when he smiled at her, the lights glittering off the round wire glasses that sat high on his nose. He was amused by something she’d said as he pulled her further into the crowd toward the ferris wheel. Oh no, she hated heights, Hermione wanted to yell at the mystery man, but she couldn’t speak. She could only watch in apprehension as her body walked up to the carney, handed tickets to the man and got into the rickety cab of death.

The ride wasn’t quite as terrifying as Hermione had anticipated, there was a sense of security she received from her companion, a warm feeling that flooded her gut. He had a muscled arm wrapped around her and she leaned into his warmth. The evening was a blur of faces, friends chatting, snacks eaten, rides enjoyed. She could lose herself in the nostalgia this outing at the carnival invoked, it felt more fun and carefree than she remembered experiencing in a long time. The girl’s boyfriend had stepped away to use the loo as she leaned against a nearby wall.

The restrooms were located quite far from the main carnival setup on the grounds. You had to practically walk back to the parking lot just to get there and it was poorly lit too. It looked like a scene right out of a horror movie, the young perky innocent girl, all alone in the dark, waiting for her murderer to come. She was looking down at her phone, the bright screen illuminating her face, when she heard a faint sound.

She moved toward it and Hermione felt her fight or flight instincts kick in. This woman didn’t seem to possess Hermione’s same sense of self preservation and walked around the dim corner to investigate. Suddenly strong hands gripped her from behind and pulled her into a tall firm body. Within seconds she felt the prick of a needle go into her neck. The girl struggled desperately to get free, but with each wild flail of the arms and kick of her legs, she could feel her body was shutting down. She cursed her bad luck as she slipped into unconsciousness.

She couldn’t see anything, a course strip of cloth biting into her face. She went to remove it, but couldn’t move her wrists, in fact, her whole body felt tied down to a hard cool surface. This can’t be good, Hermione chided, doesn’t this girl know you should never go alone to check out a strange noise? This setup so cliché, Hermione internally rolled her eyes, trying to remember her tv history and if that included too many episodes of cold case files or some halloween slasher marathon. She couldn’t recall, though at the moment, she had more pressing matters to be concerned over.

She knew how this would play out and would much rather wake up, before the final act was performed. Wake up, wake up, wake up, she chanted, as she heard the creak of a door. The girl was trying to spew obscenities, but her mouth was gagged, as a man chuckled and ran a hand through her hair, playing with a strand between his fingers.

“I’ve been patiently waiting for you, my little lamb. Tonight is a very important night.” he trailed off as he ran the same hand along her cheek and cupped her chin. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You should feel very special, I’ve chosen you as my first and one never forgets his first time, as the saying goes.”

Tears were trailing down her eyes and her breathing was becoming erratic.

“Oh, sweet Ginerva or is it Ginny? You do seem to prefer being called Ginny, don’t you? Well, don’t you worry, you have nothing to fear. You were destined for greatness. I will make you famous, immortal even. Long after you’ve left this mortal coil, you will forever live on in the tales of this night. This story, our story will be on the tip of every tongue, burned into the hearts of anyone who hears it. Or maybe, and this is just me being entirely selfish, maybe I don’t want to share what we have with the world. What do you think?” He paused, then walked around the table, leaning down to her ear on the opposite side.

“Would you like to know a secret, my pet?” Here, he finally removed the object that kept her from speaking.

“I don’t give a shit about what you’ve got to say, you sick fuck! Let me go this instant. Harry will be looking for me, you idiot. I’m sure someone must’ve seen you with me and I don’t know if you’re aware, but I come from a long line of cops and my family will not stop until they find me.”

“Oh, sweet Ginny. Of course, I expect your family to find you!” He exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

“First they’ll find your two hands, then they’ll find your torso, that pretty little head of yours, the lovely lower half, and lastly your two legs and feet. Seven pieces to make you whole once more.”

“Untie me this instant! Give me a fair fight, you fucking coward!” She screamed.

“Such a filthy mouth,” he sighed, shoving the gag back between her lips, “I was hoping for a civil conversation, but I see now, that won’t be possible. I was going to serenade you with all the reasons why I chose you Ginerva, seven letters first name and last, seventh child, I could go on and on about why seven is the most powerful number and how you perfectly embody the number in walking, talking, human form, but the moods been ruined, hasn’t it? I suppose it was too much to ask for you to be excited about this journey we’ll share together. I get it, maybe I’d be less thrilled if I were in your place, but Ginny, can’t you at least appreciate that, in a sense, you’ll be living on forever. Forever Ginny!”

This man is clearly insane, Hermione deduced. I mean, where is he going with this monologue? It sounds to me, even he’s lost the plot. The room went silent and she couldn’t feel his presence hovering over her anymore. She wondered if he quietly slinked away, or was he just standing there unmoving, staring like a predator in wait. Each second that passed, felt like an hour, several hours, when out of nowhere there was a prick against her stomach, that was pushing with more pressure, and Jesus Christ, is this what it felt like to be stabbed? Ginny was now letting out muffled screams and sobs, as Hermione witnessed this terrible act. The pain that Hermione felt was numbed, but she knew it must’ve been agonizing as Ginny thrashed and cried against the assault.

Beep…! Beep…! Beep! Hermione jolted upright in bed, blinking, eyes madly darting around the room. She sighed, it really was just a dream. I knew that, she reaffirmed, dragging a hand down the side of her face.

Increasingly disturbed come morning as she awoke from each new and gruesome death scene, Hermione was determined to overcome these strange recurring night terrors. She had started to keep a dream journal after maybe the third or fourth night, with detailed recounts of everything she could remember. It was therapeutic writing it out and she felt a bit lighter with each swipe of the pen.

There had been a pretty blonde with wavy hair that giggled too much, named Violet or was that Lavender? She was sure it was some purple flower name. He had grabbed her from a dark alley as she was reapplying her lipstick, eyes glued to her compact, already wasted and barely standing. A little prick to the neck and Hermione was greeted with darkness once more. He was not fond of Lilac, he flayed part of her arms and legs, his sick manic laugh ringing in her ears along with the poor girls wails. Iris periodically passed out from the pain only to be waterboarded awake.

Then there was another blonde with straight hair and more of a plain face that went by Hannah. Hannah Abba, she’d actually created a last name for once. Hannah was terrified and begged continually to be spared. He who had no name, snickered at her naivety.

“Do you imagine yourself in a situation that warrants you to just walk away if you ask nicely enough?” His smooth deep baritone caressed as he cruelly cut off her air supply by shoving a thick cloth into her mouth and pinched her nose. He sighed as her face turned varying shades of pink and red.

“I’m doing you a favor, you know? You’re the human equivalent of stale white bread. No one cares about you, no one would remember you if you got hit by a car tomorrow. Not your so called friends, or peers. Not even that beta male boyfriend Neville. Sure, they may think fondly of you for a week, but after that, your memory will be gone with the ether. That’s how little your very existence impacts the world around you.”

As her skin tinged purple then blue, he released his hold on her nose. He pulled the cloth from her mouth as she took deep gulping gasps. She flinched when she felt him near once more, his breath upon her face.

“So you see, I’m saving you from a fate worse than death. To be forgotten, to have never been. No, the world will remember you, sweet Hannah as a tragic character, sure. A cautionary tale, maybe. But they won’t forget, no, they’ll always recall this very night, the night which you became a legend.”

He switched it up with a male victim another evening. Colin was tall, skinny and homely looking. When he smiled, his teeth looked about 2 sizes too big for his mouth. Colin was strangled with a plastic bag over his head. He who had no name was choking poor Colin over and over until finally he took pity on the poor sod by mounting him, and snapping his neck with a hard twist of the chin.

Hermione felt crazy, how could she be normal and create these grotesque visions. No well adjusted person fantasized about murder to the degree that she lived it every night. She researched the meaning behind dreams and the symbolism of the unconscious mind. Was there some hidden underlying issue that needed to be addressed?

“Honey, you look like death. You really shouldn’t stay up so late at night.”

“Thanks mother, I’ll try that in the future.”

We have retired F.B.I. Profiler “Mad Eye” Moody on the show today, “Mr. Moody, what would you say drives a serial killer such as the self proclaimed “Death Eater” or “Voldemort” that has eluded police capture for the past 6 years.”

“He’s been at large for 6 years, but he’s been inactive for the past 4, only recently re-emerging in the past 3 months.” Moody gruffly spit out.

“Mom, why do you watch this garbage?”

“The news? Honey, current events are important, you could stand to be more informed, you should sit down and watch with me.”

“The news is nothing more than depression inducing and fear mongering. I’ll pass.”

No, Hermione had much more important matters to ponder than brainlessly learning about what common household items give you cancer or which celebrities were having a baby.

All of her most recent dreams were about blondes, did she have some deep seated hatred for fair haired individuals. She couldn’t remember any particular trauma from her past that would result in her wishing for the death of blondes. Then again, the first victim she saw had vibrant red hair.

She consulted several sleep therapists in person and online, only to be disappointed with them spouting off the same information she had dug up herself already. In desperation, she even tried taking sleeping pills in hopes of blacking out, but those too failed to safeguard her from the haunting images.

Nothing helped and nothing changed. So she settled into her current cycle of staying awake for as many days as humanly possible, mind of over matter and all that, followed by crashing for a day, day and a half, repeat. At least then she was only faced with the horrors of her mind once a week, rather than Every. Single. Night.

~O-O~

Tick. Tock. Tick…. Tock….

Is it just me or did the clock just wink at me? Hermione blinked her eyes, staring harder at the enemy. She didn’t want to know the time, to know that it was god awful early in the morning and she should really be asleep right now, rather than standing in line for coffee like these other early bird bastards.

Hermione was tired, dead tired. What was that line from Fight Club? “This is how it is with insomnia. Everything is so far away, a copy of a copy of a copy.” That line epitomized her current state of being as she stumbled through her order, “No, it’s Hermione, H-e-r-m, ugh, just write G, it’s for Miss G. Thanks.” She muttered walking away to stand off to the side.

“I’ll have a coffee, black.”

Hermione whipped her head toward the sound, that voice. The pitch and tone of that man instantly gave her chills and her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. Luckily she was near a wall and was able to lean against it nonchalantly as her mind raced a million miles a minute. Could this be the man in her dreams, was that monster real? Was she even awake right now?

“Miss G, order up!”

Hermione took a deep breath and headed toward the counter. She raked her eyes over him, tall, dark, and handsome. His hair was artfully windswept, his gait confident, he smelled like money. Some understated cologne that lingered pleasantly in the air and made your eyes follow the source.

He held himself with an air of ease as if everything just came to him, yet the coldness he radiated made him seem unapproachable, untouchable even.

He noticed her instantly, leaning heavily against the wall as if she could melt into the shadows. Her eyes kept darting toward him, she was not as subtle as she imagined. It stirred the predator inside, she was so damn skittish, beyond normal attraction or nerves. She was dripping neurosis, with her twitching and constant subtle movements. Her hair was curly and wild, it seemed to reflect her agitation. She invoked the thrill of the hunt in him, which was odd to say the least. Intrigued he put on his friendly face.

She was staring off into the distance again, only realizing too late that her line of sight settled in his direction. He flashed her a grin with his dead eyes. She almost dropped her coffee.

“I’m so sorry!” She blurted out, blushing profusely. “You just look so familiar, I was trying to place you, but I can’t seem to figure out where I would’ve seen you before.” Or heard you, demon spawn.

“Tom, order up!”

He grabbed his coffee turning towards her, hand outstretched. “It’s ok, I get that more often than you’d think.” This time, the smile reached his eyes.

“I’m Tom.” He said tipping his coffee toward her in salute.

“I’m Hermione and really, I didn’t mean to stare. I don’t suppose you attend Hogwarts Uni and I’ve seen you around campus?” She blurted the first nonsense small talk she could think of.

“Oh no, dear!” He said with a hearty laugh. “I’ve been out of University for about 10 years now.” He invited her to join him.

“I shouldn’t, I couldn’t.” Hermione stammered, adjusting her messenger bag, wondering if he would chase her should she bolt for the door.

“Nonsense, come, sit”

“Um…ok.” She sat down gracelessly, bumping her bag into the table and knocking some of her books and papers from inside the bag onto the floor. Fuck, I’ll never get out of here now.

“I’m such a klutz lately, sorry. I feel like I can’t stop apologizing to you.” Please be annoyed and send me away.

“It’s fine, it’s early and you haven’t had any of your coffee yet. You have an excuse.” He offered charmingly. Tom bent down to help her gather her things. Hermione Granger displayed on one of her cover pages. “You mentioned you attend Hogwarts? And majoring in…” he looked down at the textbook Cognitive Psychology and Cognitive Neuroscience and a paperback Dreams and Nightmares: The Origin and Meaning of Dreams.

“I’m going to take a stab and say, psych major?”

Funny you should say “stab”, seems you have a propensity toward violence even in your everyday speech.

“It was a fair guess, but no. I’m a pre-med major, I have an academic interest in psychology, hence…”

She seemed friendly enough, but there was something in her eyes. He could see fear in them if he looked hard enough. She recognized him, which was absurd as he’d never seen this girl before. She held herself surprisingly steady, considering her instinct to flee, her body was facing the door and she held tension in her legs to jump up and run at a moment’s notice.

Fascinating. He wanted to splay his hand on her knee to hold her still, he wondered if she would faint if he touched her. Or would she fight him? Would he have to wrestle her to the ground and use his body weight to hold her down. He was getting excited just thinking about her underneath him.

“Is old Slughorn still teaching Chem?”

“So you did go to Hogwarts?” She countered, eyebrow raised. Liar, liar, pants on fire. What else are you lying about sweet prince?

“I did, but ages ago.”

They talked about some of his old professors that still taught, about some of her classes. The conversation flowed freely and Hermione found herself being lulled into a false sense of security the more she listened to his opinions and thoughts on current medical practices and some of the recent breakthroughs his research firm had made in cancer cell analysis.

Was she being paranoid in thinking this highly educated well to do man was a serial killer just because of the cadence of his voice. Of course she was being paranoid, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right about him.

“I should get going, classes and all that.” Hermione was never good at a natural exit strategy.

Tom smiled warmly. “I’d love to see you again, allow me to take you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow night?” She choked, catching herself from a look of horror and forcing a pleasant expression on her face. This is it, this is the moment that I’ll regret my life choices once I’m lying blindfolded and tied down on his table.

“I’d love to, but I’m just swamped with midterms coming up and I have this research paper due on Tuesday…”

“Give me your phone. We can exchange numbers and meet up the next time you have a few free hours. I’d love to pick your brain on stem cell theory, you’re more enthusiastic and knowledgeable than my current interns. It would be great having someone like you on board.”

Now this posed a unique opportunity. Getting close to him, she could find out if her suspicions were real or merely a fantastic coincidence. Surely if he was a murderer, he wouldn’t be dumb enough to piss where he eats, wait, what was that saying? Don’t take a piss in the yard? Don’t piss where you sleep?

“Hermione?”

“Hm…?” Shit, I didn’t hear what he was saying.

Tom’s hand was outstretched, her phone in his palm. He placed it in her own, playing with her fingers in a surprisingly intimate way. He stood and leaned toward her ear.

“I look forward to our next meeting, Hermione. I can’t wait to get to know you better.” he breathed, then swiftly walked away.

What the fuck was that?

~O-O~

Hermione slept like a baby. Sweet, sweet peaceful REM sleep, no night terrors, no lingering feelings of disgust and horror upon waking. I haven’t felt this good in what feels like forever, she mused.

A couple weeks passed and she fell back into routine easily, school, study, work, repeat. It seemed like the nightmares and sleep deprivation were a thing of the past. She didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, so she put the disturbing dreams behind her, locking them in a box within the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind.

“Hermione, can you pick up a prescription for your father tomorrow afternoon? I thought I’d be around, but Barbara filled the cancellation spot, so it looks like we’ll be in the office most of the day.”

“Of course mom, it’s no problem.”

Parts of Hannah Abbott were recently found buried in multiple shallow graves on the shore of the Thames by Reading. Seven graves, each containing a piece of her body. Police suspect this is another case of the self proclaimed “Death Eater” or “Voldemort” serial killer. He is known to stalk, torture, and kill his victims, disposing of their body, by cutting it up into 7 pieces.

Hermione stared at the tv, her eyes getting blurry and a high pitched ringing filling her head. Hannah Abbott, Hannah Abbo, Hannah Abba. Why did that name sound so familiar?

Ding.

Hermione looked down at her phone.

Hey, it’s Tom. We met at the coffee shop. How did midterms go? What are you doing this weekend? Want to have dinner?

Her stomach dropped.

Hermione ran to her bedroom grabbing her dream journal and flipping open her laptop.

“Honey are you okay?” Her mother called from the living room.

“I’m fine Mom, I just felt a headache coming on. I think I’m going to lay down.”

She furiously typed Hannah Abbott into google and opened the first article with a picture of a plain faced blonde smiling back at the camera. She typed in “Voldemort” seeing thousands of articles pop up in the search, scrolling down the screen names like “Ginny” “Lavender” and even “Colin” jumping out at her. This serial killer had been active on and off over the past 6 years, with his victim count suspected to reach as low as 23, as high as 48. The room started to spin and she was hyperventilating, this was real, all her dreams really happened.

She passed out.

~O-O~

Now that she thought about it, the dreams stopped around the time she met Tom. She felt like an idiot for not making the connection sooner! This had to mean something. She felt fear, yes, of course, but she also felt purpose and duty. Hermione was meant to prove his guilt and somehow stop his murderous killing spree, she just knew it.

Hello, Tom. It’s good to hear from you. This weekend sounds great! I’m available Saturday night, just let me know when and where. I look forward to seeing you soon. :)

[sprinklesandsugarcubes]

Once Upon A Dream (Part One)

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader/OC Rating: NSFW, Mature Warnings: Language/Cursing, Adult Themes/Situations, Emotional Stress/Angst, Gang Activity, Underage Drinking/Drug Useage (Party responsibly!), Rivalry, Smut! Format: Part One of Three

Note: So this is a little something that popped into my head, inspired by the song, Wildest Dreams. Silly, I know, but some of those lines just seem to fit Sweet Pea so well. I couldn’t resist. This has a slight AU!Quality, where there is a strong football rivalry between the Southside High and Riverdale High. Cliche, perhaps, but I lovee it. There’s some Archie!Angst in the beginning, so if any of you are a sucker for that! This will be a three part mini-series, and should wrap up after the third part!

Looking at him, she couldn't help but think he was beautiful.

Even from where she stood across the field; the dual sounds of the cheering crowd and the marching band’s halftime numbers drowning out any attempt she might make at calling out, there in that cluster of blue and gold as her fellow River Vixens stretched and bounced in place, preparing themselves for the next set of cheers they would deliver- she recognized it. His beauty, that is.

But it didn't hide the tiredness about him. The slight shadows under his dark eyes, the way he slouched over in his seat just a bit, like the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. He looked exhausted, and an air of melancholy hung thick around him. It worried her, made her fidget with the desire to toss the sparkly poms she clung to upon the ground and cross enemy lines, just so that she could ask if he was alright.

Nervously, she fluttered her hands back and forth; the subsequent shake of the sparkly attention-grabbers the only thing she could hear. Because, as she had been looking him over, she had missed the moment he turned his head. She had missed the moment where he began staring right back at her. That deep, soul-searching, nearly fathomless gaze that could leave her mesmerized, even from fifty yards away.

Just like it had that day, so many months before.

June

It was supposed to be the best summer she and experienced, yet at least. Her parents would be out of town for most of it, popping in occasionally on weekends, but otherwise leaving her to her own devices. She'd have their home to herself, free to do as she pleased. Which only sent butterflies to fluttering when she thought of all the alone time she could spend with her redheaded boyfriend.

Archie Andrews was her very first boyfriend, having asked her out about halfway through their freshman year at Riverdale. She had always been enamored with the soft-hearted ginger, ever since she had come to the sweet little town a few years prior. She wasn't the only one, she knew, so it was utterly surprising when Archie had asked her the question one afternoon, did she want to have dinner with him at Pop's? She didn't think she'd ever answered a question so quickly, or easily.

The rest was history.

With her parents gone, they had excitedly talked about the possibilities summer could hold.

Sure, Archie would be plenty busy with working over the summer months, finally being old enough to help out with his father's construction business, and then there was his annual trip with Jughead that she fully supported. But there would be plenty of time for them, and with each being more than ready to take that next step in their relationship, they made their plans and were practically giddy about sticking to them.

Which was why it was odd, she decided, that Archie seemed to be unable to answer his phone.

The previous two days had been nothing but text messages, which was strange in itself. Archie liked texting her, but not as much as he did actually speaking to her. There was just something about her voice, he said. Still, she had understood his hectic schedule and had proposed waiting until Saturday evening for him to come over. With a thrilling anticipation surging through her blood, she had made sure everything was prepped and ready for that evening.

Legs shaved, check. Spotless bedroom, minus the addition of new candles, check. Cute but utterly enticing lingerie that still had the tags on, check.

All that was left was confirming with her boyfriend and double checking that he would enjoy having spaghetti that night since she was cooking.

But she just couldn't get him on the phone.

Shrugging it off, she snatched up her keys and tousled the soft strands of her hair, preparing herself to drive to the grocery store and pick up anything needed for the evening. She had half a mind to buy strawberries, just to see the boy blush. The breeze rippled in through rolled down windows, further mussing her silky strands as she drove, lips mouthing the words of a song.

In a spur of the moment decision, having come to a stoplight that rested at the corner of the street she knew could take her to Andrew's Construction, she paused and made a right. After all, if she couldn't get Archie on the phone, what better way to remind him of their evening than showing up as a surprise? It had been nearly a week since they had last seen each other, she just knew his smile would split his face nearly open upon seeing her pull up.

Only...it was her that was in for the surprise.

A few blocks from the main trailer offices, she took notice of a light blue car, the paint peeling in just a few places. It was terribly parked, as if the person inside had been thoroughly distracted upon doing so. Her nose wrinkled and she huffed in annoyance when she realized it was still even partially in the lane, idling a bit shakily as little puffs of smoke took to the air, pouring from the exhaust.

She could just make out two silhouettes in the car, each one leaned closely toward the other, bodies flush from the chest up and mouths interlocked in what appeared to be a heated session of kissing. Her lips curved into a smirk as she shook her head, completely understanding the urge but still annoyed that she couldn't simply drive on. Checking the opposite lane of traffic, she signaled to move over and eased the passenger side window down, fully prepared to call out to the couple and advise them to make use of the turn off into the trees a mile back down the road.

Her words died tragically in her throat as she peered into the little car, as did her amused expression.

That shock of red hair was easily recognizable, and so were the large hands buried into honey brown strands of hair. The newly muscled build was also familiar, she had spent hours just last week tracing over it with her curious fingers.

Her mouth ran dry as she watched, seemingly unable to look away, while the couple crouched over in the cramped little car remained oblivious. Her ears were ringing slightly, the sound of both that and the blood pulsing through her veins in panicked agitation making it impossible to hear the music pouring from her speakers. A knot had grown in her throat, constricting the passage until she felt as if she couldn't even swallow, much less speak or breathe. Her eyes stung horribly, a film of heartbreaking moisture clouding them, and finally spilling over as she watched the female of the duo toss her leg over the redhead's lap, straddling him.

It was only when she actually recognized the woman that she finally managed to react, quickly stomping on the accelerator and thanking more than one deity that she had chosen to drive her father's vehicle instead of her own. The tires threw dirt and rock onto the tiny car as the truck rocketed down the lane, no doubt startling the occupants.

She didn't care to look backward, to see what the secret couple had done as she sped away.

Dashing away the tears that had spilt over with quick fingers, she simply accelerated more, hoping that maybe the faster she drove, the easier it would be to leave it all, and Archie Asshole Andrews, behind.

She ran.

With little thought really, to where she was going.

She had abandoned the truck in the driveway and had rushed inside, ignoring every picture of the red headed heartbreaker on her walls as she tore the dress from her body and shimmied into a pair of running shorts and a lightweight shirt instead. With her key tucked into the band that circled her wrist, she had left her phone and everything else behind.

Including any sense of direction, apparently, as she had long ago crossed over the railroad tracks and found herself running through the heart of the Southside.

She should have felt uncomfortable, perhaps even the slightest inking of fear.

After all, despite her genuine distaste for it, she was not naive to the tension that simmered between those of the North and South sides of the tracks. She had never understood it, how people could judge each other over something as simple as geography. To her, each person was a human being, deserving of respect and happiness.

So perhaps she was naive in such a sense after all.

Finally, as conscious thought seemed to return and her mind suppressed the horrifying images of sighting her once-boyfriend (because they were SO over now) and their music teacher getting all hot and steamy in her car; her feet slowed from a run to a walk, and she raised her head, her eyes widening slightly as she took in her surroundings.

She had managed to run all the way to the southern end of thirty-second street, far enough that she could see the glow of bar lights and the faint shapes of trailer homes further beyond. Currently, she stood in front of a tiny bakery that had already closed up for the evening, as the sun was steadily sinking along the horizon, splashing the skyline with hues of purple and pink that were swallowed by the thunderheads that were rolling in from the west.

Her chest heaved slightly, her lungs seeming to catch on to the fact that she was no longer running like her life depended on it, and they could recoup the oxygen they so desperately needed. She bent over at the waist a little, pressing her palms to her knees as she greedily swallowed air, fighting against the need to plant her ass upon the pavement and just sit for a while. After all, she had a decent trip to make back home.

But it wasn’t meant to be.

Like the chaotic mass of emotion that sat churning in her gut, squeezing her heart in a way that she could equate to near physical pain, and tightened her throat until it ached; the storm that had been brewing in the night sky finally unleashed itself, opening the heavens so that torrents of rain could pour down to the mortal souls scurrying below.

She was drenched within the first five minutes, her already fitted-workout gear becoming indecently skintight as it stretched across both ass and chest. Her hair hung in limp, sodden strands, clumping together in some places as more than one lock of it stuck together. The massive droplets made teasing trails down the bare skin of her arms, legs, and stomach; the cool temperature clashing with the heat from her run, causing her skin to prickle and shiver. Her head dropped back on her shoulders, eyes fluttering closed as inky lashes dusted the tops of her cheeks, and her lips parted in what anyone would assume to be a frustrated scream.

Instead, she laughed.

She laughed until her chest twinged and her stomach ached, until her jaw was almost sore from remaining in the amused expression. She laughed until the sound transformed, losing its carefree amusement and turning to one that bordered the line of hysteria. The sound was haunting, losing all traces of goodness, replaced instead by the echo of emotion untouched. She laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the rain in a way that made it almost unnoticeable. She laughed until the tears were real, until she was no longer laughing at all, until the sound choked off into a desperate sob as she backed into the bakery’s stable, brick walls and sunk down.

There she buried her face into her legs after tucking them into her chest, propping her folded arms atop her knees.

It could have been minutes, possibly even hours, that she sat there on that lonely, quiet street with no other company, save the rain and booming thunder. Her tears had long ago ceased, her eyes running dry, no longer able to spare her heart any moisture. The downpour had shifted, changing from sheets of rain that one could hardly see through, to a gentle rain that pitter-pattered across the sheet metal awning she had managed to huddle beneath. She watched, blank eyes peering out through soaked strands of hair, as a single car plundered its way down the road, narrowly missing a pothole that had grown in the center of the street. She could have sat there for minutes, possibly even hours, more…had it not been for him.

She heard them before she saw them; a group of leather-clad teenagers that had only just exited a diner down the street, the paint faded and more than one light in the sign that displayed its name burnt out.

They were a group of five or six, perhaps, each one a little more rambunctious than the last as they turned toward her, plodding down the sidewalk across from hers, their destination more than likely the neon lights that sat a hundred or so yards further down the street, given the emblem she managed to catch a peek of as one girl, her hair an alluring mixture of pinks, turned to a stocky-statured boy.

Biting her lip, she curled tighter around her knees, hoping to make herself seem even smaller than she actually was. Perhaps, if she was lucky, she could even sink into the shadows and go unspotted; they seemed to be enjoying themselves, their laughter echoing off the worn buildings, so there was little reason for them to look in her direction. The last thing she wanted was to find herself caught up in some sort of confrontation, despite the fact that she had little issue with them and wasn’t looking to make any new ones.

Gazing out stealthily from the gaps between dripping locks once more, she felt the tension drain from her limbs as she watched them pass her general area, continuing on toward their endpoint without even catching a glimpse of her. She breathed out a sigh, squeezing her eyes closed as she shuddered in place, a mixture of adrenaline and the chill in the air from the storm leaving her nearly shivering.

What she had failed to notice however, was the lone figure that had broken off from the group, ambling toward her side of the road in a lazy, unhurried pace.

“You look lost,” Someone spoke lowly, their distaste apparent in their tone. “Princess.”

His voice was mocking, tainted with his derision and the sneer that twisted his lips; it didn’t make it any less attractive.

It sounded like sin and sex, wrapped up with a red velvet ribbon, and it only grew more potent as it rumbled softly when the pet name rolled off his tongue, accompanied by the low growl in his chest. It made her want to squirm, heat blooming to life in the pit of her stomach, a tingle racing toward her thighs. She froze in place there on the wet concrete, not because she was frightened but because the reaction she experienced to his voice alone was, in its own way, frightening.

She had never reacted like that to Archie’s voice.

When she tipped her head up, finally daring to look at the boy whose voice set her blood on fire, she couldn’t stop the small gasp from escaping her parted lips.

He was, to put it simply, gorgeous.

His hair was damp from the gentle rain, the raven colored strands tousled haphazardly, like all he did in the morning was run his fingers through it a few times. His eyebrows were just as dark, arching expressively, and his eyelashes were every bit as inky. They framed dark eyes, their color more than likely a deep, sinfully rich brown; though it was hard to tell in the darkness, they looked instead like shadow pits, endless and beckoning. His nose was sloped smoothly, his jawline chiseled from the hands of above, and his cheeks were filled just the slightest bit, rounding out the apple of them. His teeth gleamed in the night, and his lips…his lips made her want to do things.

As she lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes once more, she caught the way they softened at the edges, the change just barely noticeable as they swept back and forth across her face rapidly. The sneer fell from his lips, pressing itself into a firm line that reminded her of cautious concern rather than his earlier contempt. He took a single step closer, one that was slow and deliberate, almost as if he believed her to be a startled animal that might bolt at any second. His eyes trailed her face again, centering on her cheeks, and it was then that she understood.

She must look a mess!

Between the running and the rain, not to mention her outright ugly sobbing only a handful of minutes before; her mascara had bled into the corners of her eyes, trekking down in smudged trails over the outer edge of her cheeks. Her eyes had to be irritated and red, quite possibly even swollen, just enough to make it entirely obvious that she had been bawling to her heart’s content.

Quickly, she lifted her hands, swiping beneath her eyes in a futile attempt to look at least halfway put together as she broke their gaze, needing to escape the heat the was only building with every passing, silent moment.

“I-I’m not,” She croaked out, wincing at the sound of her voice, before sucking in a deep breath. “Lost, I mean. I just…I just needed-“

Thunder rumbled across the sky once more, the wind picking up as a new wave to the storm threatened all below it.

She shuddered hard then, gripping her arms so tightly around herself, her nails bit into the soft skin. She needed to get home, but the thought of walking through the rain made her shake even harder, the reaction made worse as a cooler breeze blew through the empty street.

Suddenly, a hand appeared in front of her face, nearly making her squeak in surprise. It was large, bigger than she had expected, and she could faintly judge the array of callouses that had no doubt roughened it from hours of labor and tinkering with mechanical parts. He had just a little grease smudged over his knuckles, and a tattoo wrapped around his thumb that begged to be examined much closer. She followed the outstretched hand with her eyes, her gaze caressing up and over the strong arm encased in shining leather, to the face peering down at her; a picture of forced nonchalance that guarded the slight hint of vulnerability he felt over offering it to her.

It was only after she had placed her much smaller hand into his, allowing him to tug her up from her seated position, catching her with his free arm around the waist when her muscles cramped and protested; that she realized something very important.

She didn’t even hesitate.

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