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angrylizardjacket · 6 years ago

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my baby’s a public menace {Ben Hardy/Reader/Roger Taylor}

Four Iconic Moments The Press Had A Fucking Field Day With

A/N: 2670 words. So this time we’ve got Modern Times with 70s!Roger pulled forwards in time. Don’t think too hard about how it works it just does.

1. It Becomes Official

The moment they call Ben’s name at the BAFTAs, to receive the award for Lead Actor in a Television Series, you feel like the whole world is coming to a stand still, and Ben’s rising, disbelief written all over his face.

“That’s me.” He says, quietly, as the applause has already begun, and then Roger’s on his feet, beaming, and he wraps his arms around Ben, pashing him directly in front of the camera that was catching every moment, and Ben kisses him back easily, before turning to you, eyes bright, and he pulls you to your feet, giving you a kiss as well.

“Congratulations, babe.” You murmur, and he’s so fucking ecstatic when he pulls back, and heads into the aisle, heading towards the stage. You slide into his seat with ease, lacing your fingers with Roger’s where he’s bouncing with energy and beaming with pride.

“He fuckin’ won.” Roger laughs with a little disbelief, and you turn to each other, both absolutely radiating with pride and adoration.

“Our boy did it.” You giggle, and Roger’s gaze dips to your lips for a moment before he looks back up, a new spark in his eyes that you knew all too well.

“I can’t wait ‘til we all get home.” He dropped his voice low, and you could feel yourself growing a little flustered at the suggestion.

“Keep it in your pants, dear,” you nudged him, and he barked out a laugh, giving you a wink before he turned to where Ben was finally walking across the stage. You, however, felt your heart stop in your chest, “he kissed us on camera.”

“Well, I kissed him,” Roger mused, his thumb rubbing against the side of your hand, “couldn’t help myself.” He admitted, still beaming as Ben was handed his award, expression bright and a little disbelieving as he leaned into the microphone.

“I think I just won a BAFTA and outed myself in the same minute, so that’s going to be hard to beat next year.” Is the opening line of his speech, and the audience titters with polite laughter, while you and Roger are hiding your snorts. “I actually had to email the organisational committee to ask them to let me bring more than one plus one, I’m glad to see that it wasn’t in vain.” He laughs; he goes on to thank the crew of the show he worked on, the other cast members, his family, and he looks for you and Roger in the audience, pointing the award at you. “And for Rog and Y/N, of course; the weirdest and best thing to happen to me in a long time.”

“Do you think he knows how much we wanna suck his dick?” You lean over to Roger, whispering under your breath, amused smile on your lips at you look up at your boyfriend grinning on stage.

“Of course he does, look at that smile.” Roger responds with a low chuckle as Ben leaves stage, heading back towards you. When he gets back to his seat, you move back to your own seat, resting your head on his shoulder when he sits down.

“We’re so proud of you, baby.” You tell him softly as they’re beginning the next segment on stage, and Ben reaches out with his free hand to rest it on your thigh, giving you a squeeze.

“I know, love.”

2. Roger Throws Half A Chicken At A Paparazzi

“Do you think we should go inside?” You ask, voice low as you catch sight of a man in a baseball cap and dark glasses covertly trying to take photos of you three. It was a nice evening, you, Roger, and Ben had been enjoying a meal outside at an upscale restaurant, the three of you draped on a two person outdoor lounge, your entrees having just been cleared up. Both you and Ben are on your phones, and Roger’s between the two of you, nose buried in the paper.

“Why?” Ben asks, not looking up from his phone, and you shift a little uncomfortably, giving the man trying to look like he’s not taking photos.

“Hey, dude, can you just leave us alone? We just wanna get dinner.” You call to the man, and he stands, a little flustered.

“So it’s true, you’re really dating both of them?” He calls back, stashing his phone in his pocket, pulling out a little recording device; the asshole came prepared.

“No, we’re just really good friends who make out at the BAFTAs.” Roger rolls his eyes, folding up the paper, and throwing the paper onto the table in front of him.

“No need to get snarky, mate, I just think it’s weird that somebody like her would get on so well with-” He’s cut off just as a kind and beleagured waitress puts down what looks like half a roast chicken surrounded by salad onto the table.

“Fuck off, alright?” Ben snaps at the man, clearly irritated, sitting up straighter, giving the waitress an apologetic smile as she leaves in a hurry.

“The hell do you mean ‘someone like her’?!” Roger growls, and you actually have to put a hand on his chest where he’s leaning forward, as if getting ready to throw himself at the reporter.

“I- do you wanna address the rumours then, Y/N about-” The man starts, but Roger cuts him off with a snarl.

“If this bastard brings up those fuckin’ gold digger accusations, I’m gonna start throwing things.” He warns, and not a moment later, the man brings up the very words Roger had told him not to. You’re just heaving a heavy sigh, used to being hounded by the gossip magazines, though you try not to pay them any mind.

“I could shout how much I love you from the rooftops and these assholes would still think this is some sort of weird, sugar daddy situation.” Ben turns to you, his voice low as he gives you a long suffering smile. You lean in across the empty space that Roger had just vacated to give him a kiss, before turning to where Roger was wielding his roast chicken like a grenade, lobbing it at the reporter, yelling about how he’s ‘sick and tired of hearing people talk shit about his girlfriend; she’s got more kindness and talent in one tit than the paparazzi has in his whole body’.

“We should probably get him before he does any real damage.” Ben muses, to which you agree. The two of you move to collect your rogue boyfriend as he continues to yell and squirm.

“Baby, baby please calm down; you’ve made a scene, you’ve thrown a chicken, you’ve mentioned my tits, we can have dinner at home.” You try to placate him, your arm tucked in his as Ben’s got an arm around his shoulders, the two of you guiding him from the restaurant.

“Just makes me so bloody mad.” Roger growls his hands on your hips where you’ve got your arms around his waist as Ben pays for your half finished meals. “It’s twenty eighteen, you’d think dickheads would learn to grow up.” He huffed.

“I know, baby.” You muse, bringing him in for a kiss to distract him, hoping to let his anger simmer down a little as you two stand in the parking lot.

“I just love you is all, people like that make me so pissed-” He whispers, more to himself than anything, but then you’re kissing him again, humming affirmations, your hands in his hair.

“I love you too, I love you too.” You murmur against his lips.

Later that night you’ll see Ben’s instagram story from just before he joins the two of you again. You and Roger, arms around each other, lit by a single streetlight, you’re leaning in to him, lips inches from his, and he’s smiling gently back at you; the whole image is surprisingly intimate, especially for Roger. It’s captioned ‘I’m allowed to take candids ‘cos they love me’.

3. Someone Gives Ben Tequila

Ben’s not usually the type to get drunk and reckless. Or well, he’s the type to get drunk on occasion, but not reckless, not like Roger, who can be incredibly reckless even while sober, nor like you, since you could go either way. Ben was meant to be the grounded one. Except sometimes he has tequila. It’s an afterparty for a movie he’d gotten a supporting role in, it’d been fun, but he was looking forward to being able to spend time with you and Roger again. Speaking of the two of you, you’d disappeared almost half an hour ago, Roger had gone to the bathroom and you’d gone to get more drinks.

When he finds you, you’re trapped in an uncomfortable conversation with one of the editors assistants’, a weedy kid who couldn’t seem to figure out that you didn’t want to talk to him.

“Hi, baby!” You call out to Ben the moment you think he’ll be able to hear you over the music, and he makes a beeline for you, his heart singing when he sees your face light up.

“Hello, love, I was wondering where you’d gotten to.” He says, barely acknowledging the guy you’d been talking to, who’s own expression fell as Ben pressed a kiss to your lips. The two of you head off in search of Roger, who you find by the bathroom, talking with someone who’s clearly quite enamoured with him. From his easy stance and casual smile, you could tell he was at least enjoying the woman’s company. Neither you nor Ben were usually the jealous type, but after a few drinks, you couldn’t be blamed for just wanting to stake your claim.

“Hey, babe, who’s this?” Ben asks, slipping an arm around Roger’s shoulders as you stepped around to loop your arm through his on his other side. Roger, with a sly, knowing smile, looks between the two of you, before smiling brightly at the woman who’d been talking to him.

“Like I was saying, this is my boyfriend and girlfriend; you’ll have to excuse them, they get jealous easily.” He smirked, and the woman looked a little shocked, a little flustered, as she stuttered her way through an apology. “It’s no worry, I’m sure they can entertain themselves for a while,” and with that, he winked at you. Taking the hint, you moved, taking Ben’s hand and leading him away.

“He’s just being a social butterfly, you know how he is.” You mused gently, the two of you flopping onto a sofa. Ben hums thoughtfully, sitting beside you, your hand in his. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, trailing kisses up your neck to your jaw.

“‘m not jealous.” He said, lips at the corner of yours, pressing another kiss there before he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, moving so you’re smiling over your shoulder at him, “it’s just nice to say you guys are mine.” And his voice is low, almost a growl, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

“I like the sound of that.” You tell him, kissing him hard, letting his hands wander and pull you close to him.

“Mine?” He asks, and his hand is on your thigh, moving your legs so you’re sitting over him rather than next to him.

“Yours.” You agree, kissing him again, messy and passionate, you can taste the alcohol on his lips and his tongue but you don’t care when he’s leaning you back to lie on the sofa. “And Roger’s.” You add quietly, and there’s a gleam in Ben’s eyes where he’s looking down at you, his arm around you, one hand on your waist.

“You’re ours, love, there’s no doubt about it.” He assures, and he leans in to kiss you again.

“I can’t take you two anywhere!” Roger’s grinning when he finds the two of you, and Ben presses his laughter into your collar as you look up at Roger and make an insistent, grabby hand for him. “If you insist.” He chuckles, sinking to his knees to join you at your level, kissing you where you’re splayed out on the sofa, with Ben all but on top of you. “You know there’s a perfectly good bathroom not too far from here.”

Not ten minutes later, one of the other cast members sends to the cast group chat, in all capitals ‘BEN’S BANGING IN THE BATHROOM’ which was met with either ‘at least they’ve freed up the sofa’ or ‘lmao called it’. You’re not surprised, nor are you ashamed, when some gossip rag has your face on it (or more accurately, Ben’s face) the next morning, and a riveting account of what happened with no actual details, and a photo someone took on their phone of you and Ben on the sofa. It wasn’t the first time, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

4. Roger Gets Instagram

Roger takes surprisingly well to instagram, which is both hilarious and terrifying. He posts a lot of selfies; he takes to being an instagram fuckboi like a duck takes to water. At first it’s mostly blurry shots, of sunlight, sometimes it’s you and Ben out of focus, laughing, or he gets one of you two to take a photo of him, shirtless.

When he gets a waterproof phone, the first thing he does is take a photo of you and he kissing underwater at the beach, and then three separate, all individually hilarious videos of Ben trying and failing to do a majestic hair flip coming out of the water; in the last one, both boys get hit by a huge wave, and the video ends with you laughing, fishing the phone out of the surf.

The three of you go on holidays to somewhere sunny, and at the end of the week, he posts the highlights; you lying on your stomach beneath a palm tree on the beach, topless; a selfie of the three of you smiling at the camera against a backdrop of a starlit sky, golden in the light of a bonfire; Ben in a coconut bra, a little blurry with the movement of laughter, grinning at you just out of shot; you, in bed, making a truly terrible face where he’s just woken you up and the sun’s in your eyes. His favourite, however, is the one from him at the end of the holiday, shirtless and tanned, shot from the waist up, biting his lip as he’s turned to look off to the left, showing off how he’s covered in hickies.

The shots that get the most media attention are his more risque ones, like the shot on his story that you’d taken where you could see the bottom half of his face all the way down to his hips, with a sheet covering his modesty, but a lipstick kiss mark along his V-line and his tongue out. (There’s a followup photo on your instagram story, of your lipstick smeared, grin wide, and your hair messy, with the caption, ‘sometimes you just gotta be a messy bitch’, and people put two and two together, and conservatives lost it.)

The most infamous actual post of his is the shot of you and Ben together in bed, he’s leaning against the headboard, still mostly laying down, and you’re draped over him, chin resting on his chest where the two of you are grinning about something. The sheet covers most of your ass, and comes up to Ben’s hips, and you’re giving the camera some pretty glorious side boob, and the photo’s framed to show room for one more person beside you in the bed, a sliver of sunlight shining through the curtains, across Ben’s chest and your back, and it’s just captioned ‘what a sight’. He’d asked you both before posting it, and you’d both agreed; it didn’t violate any guidelines, but social media still had a field day with the sweet, clearly post-coital photo.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x reader x roger taylor #ben x reader x roger #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #borhap imagine #borhap cast #borhap cast imagine #queen #queen imagines #queen imagine #the angry lizard writes

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bourbonboredom · 6 years ago

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Silver Lining Chapter 13

If you’re ever gonna find a silver lining, it’s gotta be a cloudy day

A ClydexReader fanfic

Word Count: 2,848

Warnings: talk of domestic abuse

Silver Lining Masterlist

Tag List: @oh-adam @kyloren-supreme-ben @xis23@elsablackswift @ladygrey03 @grey-reylo-solo @givemelifeorgiveme @attorneyl @ayatimascd @redhairedfeistynerd @kyloxfem

There seemed to be no end in sight for the Unlucky Logans. The agent would show up week after week, starting a tab that she never closed out at the end of the night.

“I’ll be back, no need to close it,” She’d wink at Clyde.

The tab only grew faster as she offered drinks to her favorite one-armed bartender. He'd accept some days, when he was feeling strong enough to entertain her, but would reject it most of the time.

Grey rocking quickly became the objective. Any prompt she offered, any bait she put down, Clyde played dumb. He acted as thought he knew nothing of what she was saying, keeping any answers neutral, offering her nothing in return.

He'd let his girl take over some days, when he didn't have the energy to fend off the agent. He felt bad afterward, it felt like he was putting her up for trial, but she always assured him she could hold her own.

‘Think of it as tag-teaming,’ She told him one night. ‘When you need a break, I’m right here to tap in,”

Nights became restless, alternating between falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and staying up until dawn worrying about the situation. They re-hid the money together, stashing it in the most discreet places they could find around her trailer. He felt guilty about that too. It was her house if it all went down. As the weeks turned into months, the "investigation" began to wear on the couple more and more.

"Why couldn't she be hangin' around the salon? Or botherin' Jimmy at his job? Why’s it gotta be my bar?" He'd grit out, hand clenching the arm of the sofa. He was sick of being the target, of this falling primarily on him.

"Because she thinks she's got you. But she doesn't. You’re gonna get though this. We're gonna get through this," She responded calmly, peppering his face with kisses.

“I sure hope so,” His face was drawn into a tight frown despite her kisses.

He wanted to pull her into his arms and know that everything was going to be alright, but that was getting harder and harder to imagine. He’d open the bar every night, hoping that the agent wouldn’t walk in. That she’d get bored of this game and he could be free again. Be free with her again. But the door would open and the agent would sit in her usual seat, smiling up at him like a shark.

It was an especially cold night outside. The frost had crept up the front window, making the light from the Coors sign appear hazy from the outside. Clyde kept the bar as warm as he could for his patrons, but it was still a little chilly. The heater wasn’t what it used to be and with the heist money stashed away, he had no way of paying to fix it. His usual patrons didn’t mind much, they’d warm up with beer and whiskey anyways. His girl would joke that it was Duck Tape’s attempt at icing the agent out.

‘The bar knows. It’s hoping she’ll get cold and go home,’ She laughed as she threw on a sweater the day after the plumber gave them the diagnosis.

She was wearing one of his favorites today, a baby blue sweater that fit her just right. The agent was having trouble finding clothes that shielded her from the climate. She’d always opt for low-cut shirts, no matter the heater’s condition.

Today was no exception for the agent. She shimmied out of her coat to reveal a black sleeveless top that was cut to show off her cleavage. He’d avoided looking at it for most of the night as he made polite conversation with the woman who was trying to ruin his life. Their chat slowly turned for the worse as they spoke.

“So I heard some gossip today,” She started slowly. She’d been shooting the breeze with him at the bar for about an hour, just small talk. He now realized she was probably trying to get him to loosen up for whatever she was about to say.

“Yeah, what about?” Clyde asked, cautious about what she might say.

“I heard a guy stopped over at the diner before leaving town a few weeks back. One of the waitresses said he walked in with a huge wad of cash in his hand, looking like he'd seen a ghost,”

The woman was watching him closely for a reaction. He could see his girlfriend stop stacking glasses at the counter out of the corner of his eye.

"He told her he was trying to visit his fiancée, and a guy with a metal arm paid him off to never come back,"

He did his best to look interested and not completely terrified.

"The waitress didn't see how much he had, but it sounded like way more than pocket change,"

"That's quite the story, this town loves to gossip,” He said as best he could. His heart was pounding in his ears, making it hard to hear himself speak. His mouth was becoming dryer by the minute.

"They sure do, and there aren't too many men with metal arms around here," She nodded toward his left hand.

"That's true," He said, choosing his words carefully. His dinner threatened to make a second appearance due to his stomach doing flips.

"But owning a bar in this county isn't quite that lucrative I'd imagine,"

"That's quite the assumption, what are you getting at?" His girl’s voice came from beside him before he could say another word.

She was tapping in. She stared the woman down, holding Clyde’s hand behind the bar where she couldn’t see.

"I'm just asking—" The agent tried to start.

"I don't think you're asking anything ma'am, it sounds like you're implying something," His girl’s voice was even and calm as she spoke.

"I'm just asking why someone in this town would pay off someone's fiancée to go away, seems shady to me,” The agent’s eyebrows furrowed, her voice dropping to a dangerous tone.

"I'm the fiancée ma’am, that man was my ex. I broke up with him and he came back around when I didn't want him to,” She began, her tone matching the agent’s.

“Clyde over here was helping me to make sure he didn't hurt me. He didn't pay him to go away, it wasn't even his money. It was mine from selling my wedding ring in order to pay for the medical bills my ex thought I owed him. Not that it’s any of your business,”

“I—” The agent’s face faltered. Any attempt to say something was cut off by her voice growing louder as she continued with her story. Heads were starting to turn around the bar to try to get in on the gossip.

"He thought I owed him medical bills because he beat me severely enough that it landed me in the ICU. I ran away from him and gave up everything I knew to wind up in this town, where he stalked me to and tried to force me back with him. This saint of a man protected me, if it weren’t for him I might be dead,” Her voice broke with that last sentence, making Clyde’s chest ache. His hand squeezed hers behind the bar. “I gave my ex the money he thought I owed him and made it crystal clear I was never going back to his abusive ass,"

"I didn't realize—" The agent stuttered, that was clearly not the answer she was looking for.

"I don't know what you were implying, but Clyde’s been nothing but kind to me since I got here and I'd appreciate you not spreading the gossip that my jealous ex started about him,"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean any harm,"

"I'm sure you didn't," She said is a controlled tone. With her teeth gritted and her eyes threatening to spill tears, she squeezed Clyde’s hand and left the bar, walking to the back room. As soon as she was out of sight, Clyde turned back to the slightly-stunned woman in front of him.

"She's sensitive about the subject. I didn't want to bring anything up about it when you mentioned it," He deadpanned.

The agent was having a hard time making eye contact. She thought she finally had something, and it fell apart almost immediately.

"I'm very sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate anything. I wasn’t trying to—“

"Gossip gets the best of all of us from time to time," Clyde said in a clipped tone. "If you don't mind, I think I'm gonna close up for the night. I think we’ve all had a long day,”

"Yes, I understand," She avoided his gaze as she paid her tab and left the bar. He watched as she turned on her car and drove out of the parking lot and into the inky black night.

He let the remaining patrons know he was closing up for the night, and they trickled out, paying their tabs and saying their goodbyes. A few stopped to ask if she was okay, if what she’d said was true. Clyde worried his bottom lip between his teeth, unsure of whether or not he should say anything. He settled on telling them it wasn’t for him to say. He was finishing stacking the glasses when she came back out.

"She's gone," He told her as she walked behind the bar. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," She whispered.

Her voice was a little hoarse as she threw her arms around his body and pulled him into a hug. She buried her face into his chest, letting out a sniffle. Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, trying to hold him as close as possible.

"I'm sorry that happened darlin’,” He murmured, wrapping his arms around her. “I didn’t expect her to ever bring that up,”

"It's okay, I can't stop people from gossiping," She looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest. Her eyes looked a little pink, Clyde couldn't bear the thought of her crying over this.

"If it helps, I think you might've squashed her one lead. She left in quite the hurry after you straightened her out,"

"I figured telling her the money was mine might shut her up, people tend to clam up when you mention comas and runaway brides,” She tried to joke.

Clyde gave a small smile in acknowledgement.

“You saved my back there, I didn’t know what I was gonna say. I—I was scared honestly,”

“You did what you could, you were great sweetheart. I just couldn’t listen to her try to make you seem like a bad person anymore. Especially not for that whole incident. I meant it when I said I might be dead without you,” Her voice began to quiver again. He held her closer.

“I love you. I’d fight him off a million more times if it kept you safe. You mean everything to me,” He whispered. He knew he’d never be able to fully convey how much she meant to him, but he could try.

“I love you too. And I gotta be honest,” She looked back up at him, her tired eyes looking happier already. “You don’t look too good in that prison uniform. So you gotta stay out of prison okay? For me?”

“Anything for you,” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her.

—————

It was about a few weeks later when Clyde had ventured out into the cold January night to pick up a few odds and ends from the store. He insisted his girl stay all warm and cuddled up inside their trailer while he went out to the Grocery Castle on their side of town. She helped him lace up his boots and gave him a kiss on the nose before he slipped on his warmest coat and headed out.

He couldn’t wait for winter to be over. It felt even longer this year with that agent poking around. It was a good time of year for the bar, with people needing a place to warm up and socialize, but Clyde found himself yearning for spring as the windshield wipers on his car crackled to life after being frozen in place. The light dusting of snow had settled on the road, making it a little harder to find his way down the dimly lit road in the dark.

The Grocery Castle’s sign glowed against the white powder and the cloudy sky. There weren’t many people out, the only other cars in the lot presumably belonged to the employees waiting to get off their shift. The automatic doors of the store whooshed open and Clyde walked a little heavier, trying to get the snow out from his boots before trekking on.

The muzak of the store was soft in the background, the buzz of the fluorescent lighting almost as loud. He ignored both as he moved through the aisles, picking up the contents of the wrinkled list he held in his pocket.

Bread

Milk

Bacon

Sausage (for the biscuits and gravy she wanted to make for dinner tomorrow)

Peanut Butter

He moved with a practiced efficiency, everything was in its usual place around the store. It was only when he got to the checkout line did he notice anything different.

There was an unusual amount of pink and red decorations around the front of the store. He missed it when he came in but now that he was standing still, he saw it everywhere. The bin full of little stuffed animals holding boxes of chocolate, the cupid cutout that hung by the vent on the ceiling that twirled as warm air pumped out, the seasonal candy display set up over by the bottle return.

He scoffed at first, he couldn’t believe they’d set this stuff up so early. It was only mid-January, there was no need to break out the hearts so far in advance. Who buys Valentines gifts from the Grocery Castle anyway?

It wasn’t until he saw the tabloid magazines by the checkout counter did things start to connect in his mind. A headline about some famous couple having a tumultuous breakup, complete with a closeup photo of a bruise on one of their arms followed by some sensationalized speculation.

Valentines Day was coming up.

The holiday that brought her to Boone County, to him. She’d walked into his bar exhausted, covering her bruises with a hoodie and a pound of makeup, drinking his vodka with the last of her cash to help heal where her tooth had been knocked out. His fist balled up around the cart’s handle at the thought.

Her physical wounds had healed. She knew she was safe with him, they had a home together, they owned a business together. A lot had changed for both of them in a year. But he wondered where her mind would be on February 14th. She hadn’t mentioned it to him yet. Granted, they’d both been overwhelmed with an FBI agent until recent. Things were just starting to get back to normal, they could finally begin to unwind.

But was she going to be able to unwind with this day coming up? Was it something he should bring up? He felt a bubble of uncertainty rise in his chest as he dropped his items on the conveyer belt for the clerk to scan. He was a gangly high school kid, probably saving up for college. He didn’t pay too much attention to Clyde as he paid and collected his bags with his metal arm.

He walked back outside, the cold air hitting his face as soon as the automatic doors opened. It filled his lungs and made them ache just a little. He dropped his bags in the trunk and circled to the driver’s side. He sat in his car with the engine on for a moment, realizing he still hadn’t made a decision about what to do.

He didn’t want to bring up anything that might upset her. Maybe she hadn’t thought of it at all and he was just over thinking it. Maybe she had been thinking of this day for months and just never said anything. She’d have to be reminded at some point, just going about her day. Even the damn grocery store had decorations up. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, keeping it from hanging in his face. He didn’t know what to do, to be honest. She meant the world to him, and he never wanted her to feel alone and scared again.

As he shifted gears and stepped on the gas to travel back down the snowy road, he tentatively made his decision. This was her past and it would be her decision of what to do. He didn’t want to bring up any painful memories by accidentally saying the wrong thing. He would wait for her to say what she needed.

And he would be right by her side the whole way. Just as she’d done for him.

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

NOTES

Oh hey this is super overdue! I’m trying to wrap this up for y’all, its about damn time! Thanks for being so patient with me, I know its not much. I don’t know if her story would be enough to throw off an FBI agent in real life, but I do know people really don’t like hearing about traumatizing events. I’d think this would be the agent’s last ditch effort, she finally thought she had something she could use, and Clyde’s girlfriend just isn’t having it.

There should be just one more chapter left, I hope to get it out soon!

#logan lucky #clyde logan #clyde logan x oc #clyde x reader #clyde logan/oc #clyde logan x reader #silver lining #masterlist #silverliningmasterlist

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sunflowerrichie · 6 years ago

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my boy

chapter 1: eighth grade

“who’s richie?”

“he’s my boyfriend,” she began, her eyes glazed over and a pleased smile on her face. puppy love; something eddie would never get the chance in having with richie.

summary: ever since they met in eighth grade, richie had been disappearing for weeks (even months) at a time, leaving eddie to think they’re on bad terms; though, that’s not really why richie disappears.

warning(s): language.

author: richie (sunflowerrichie)

note: this book is based off real life events, so if the details are too exact, that’s why. i don’t know how many chapters there will be at the moment due to events after the 7th chapter not happening yet, but i will let you guys know when i’m going to post the next chapter.

word count: 2,076

ao3: x

tagging: @addimagination

“who’s richie?” eddie had asked myra, his doe eyes wide and questioning; he briefly thanked whatever god was out there that the girl could not see him, for she’d read right through him. if eddie could go back in time from where he was now, he would’ve never asked that simple question containing only two words, though he already knew this was another one of her unsuccessful boyfriends. there was a comic book in his hand, one he disregarded the second someone new was mentioned.

myra fixed her hair from where she was lying on the couch, responding quickly. “he’s my boyfriend,” she began, her eyes glazed over and a pleased smile on her face. puppy love; something eddie would never get the chance in having with richie. “he’s tall and lanky... got dark, black hair; i’m surprised you haven't seen him around, eddie.”

myra had met eddie in sixth grade, easily becoming friends with the hypochondriac. the smaller boy made a habit of wiping her desk down with cleansing wipes before she sat in it, and in return, she gave eddie platonic love. his mom loved her; for she was just as neat as her sweet eddie-bear and she vowed to make sure he’s taking his medication on time. she was much like sonia, actually; except for being a believer in ‘love at first sight’.

this wasn’t the first time she’s been head over heels for someone, nor would it be the last, but eddie was used to it at this point. each time, he’d make himself presentable for her boyfriend, and each time, they’d never show much interest in the asthmatic boy.

eddie hummed, feigning carelessness and turning back to his book. “is he in eighth grade, too?” he had asked, flipping the page over, though his ears were perked up and his eyes were no longer scanning the words printed nicely on the paper.

“yeah,” myra responded, her voice like she was up in the clouds, high on euphoria. she snapped back quickly, glancing down at the boy on the floor and catching his eyes. “you should talk to him; i think you would start to like him,” more than you think, eddie would learn to realize. before he could decline the offer, though, she was speaking again. “he likes david bowie... and what’s that one song you like?” she paused, her eyebrows scrunching together. “uh... something about the rains in africa?”

eddie perked up quickly, his hot chocolate colored eyes twinkling with the white marshmallows sculpted deep inside them. “africa by toto,” he had said, his cheeks growing hot. eddie kaspbrak loved music, he always had; and now that he would potentially have someone to discuss this love with, he was immediately hooked. he found out three years later, though, that it did not work out the way he had planned. he snapped out of his daze, his smile still apparent. “is he coming over?”

the girl grinned from ear to ear, unbelievably delighted that her best friend was keen on meeting her boyfriend. she looked down at her phone then, the screen lighting up and reflecting on her face in a green kind of glow, the color of her lock screen. “he said he’s on his way,” myra started. “he lives just down the street, so he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

the short boy was struck with a sort of fear then, subconsciously fixing his hair. he nodded, biting his lip and trying not to act suspicious (though this was normal for him; he was always afraid new people would think he’s too messy, too uncaring). myra didn’t seem to notice, though, and kept staring at her phone with a smile, typing away at the keys. at this realization, eddie stood up and coughed awkwardly. “i’m gonna go use the bathroom.” once he got an ‘okay’, he started walking.

when he came out of the bathroom after a few deep, calming breaths and a puff of his aspirator just in case, his clothes were freshly lint-rolled and perfect, his hair was combed and neat, and his teeth were nice and brushed. his fanny pack was around his waist, keeping him grounded and secure. he heard talking from the living room and walked into the doorway, his hands cupped at his front.

richie tozier turned to him, a wide grin on his face and his glasses askew. eddie let his eyes drift around the boy, taking in every detail he could in the three seconds he allowed himself to stare. richie had a grey shirt on, a white and navy blue hawaiian shirt draped over it. the fabric was loose on his skinny frame, and eddie noticed three cigarettes extended out of his pocket, making the small boy’s hands start to shake. his pants were black and tight, complimenting his long legs. and to top it all off, he had black and white slip-on vans over his green and purple socks. he didn’t match; but it suited him in a way eddie felt jealous of.

“like whatcha see?” the tall boy asked, making eddie blush in realization that he noticed the staring. before he could respond, myra spoke again, catching the asthmatic off guard. he had forgot she was in the room.

“richie, this is eddie,” she gestured towards him. “eddie, this is richie,” and back towards richie.

the glasses-clad boy grinned even harder, making eddie wonder if his face would split in half with the force of the grin. the smaller boy looked over to myra quickly, her giving him a smile and her eyes saying ‘this is normal, don’t be alarmed’. he stepped forward and stuck out his lanky arm, waiting for the small boy to shake it. he didn’t; he was afraid richie would think his hands were too rough (he forgot to apply lotion). “richie tozier.”

one week after richie introduced himself to eddie, the asthmatic was at myra’s house again, same as last weekend. “what did you get for number 6?” the girl asked, flipping her paper over and furrowing her eyebrows. she was across from eddie on her bed, both of them lying on their stomachs and going over their math homework.

“two,” eddie responded easily, writing something down on his paper. he then paused for a while, his hand hovering over his paper as he thought. “what do you want to do tomorrow?” he asked, looking up at her with hope in his eyes. hope that richie would come over again. hope that they’d have another chance to all watch a movie together (he had sat on the ground the whole time, though, trying not to pay attention to the sound of their lips smacking together every once in a while and the bounce of richie’s leg on the carpet). he hadn’t got that close to richie yet, for he’d have to take a puff of his aspirator every time he thought about it; but with richie’s loud mouth and his easy-going attitude, it was slightly easier than he thought.

myra hummed, looking up at him briefly before turning the page in the blue textbook. “i was planning to have richie come over at around ten in the morning,” she spoke, seeming to think them over as they floated out of her mouth. “is that okay?” she blushed slightly, looking back up at eddie.

the small boy nodded, pulling his phone out quickly to set an alarm for nine in the morning. he told himself he’d need time to wake up, but he knew deep down that he really only did that because he wants to look good for the taller boy. “that sounds good,” he smiled, glancing at the time quickly. he stood up then, grabbing his fanny pack and snapping it around his waist again. “be right back, i gotta take my medicine.”

the second it turned nine o’clock the next morning, eddie’s phone was ringing and the sound was echoing through myra’s living room. the small boy groaned and rolled over, shutting off his alarm and rubbing at his eyes. when his mind got a chance to catch up and his first thought was richie, though, he was up and rushing to turn the shower on.

when richie opened the door an hour later, he was grinning and his nose was a different color, the cold, november air outside making his skin blush red.

“spaghetti!” he yelled, immediately taking interest in the asthmatic boy, much to his surprise. “i was hoping you’d be here again!”

eddie blushed deeply, water pooling behind his eyes due to embarrassment. “hi, richie,” he spoke softly, the name unfamiliar on his tongue as he scanned the room for myra (he hoped briefly that he’d get a chance for the name to finally become familiar flowing out of his mouth). “uh, myra will be here in a second, she went to-“

the taller boy cut him off quickly, wrapping his lanky arm around his shoulders. “no worries, short stack,” he started, not coming off offensive but more... fond; as if he’d known eddie since they were in sixth grade, too. “for i, the one and only richie tozier, would not mind hanging out with my favorite eds!” he finished off in a loud, almost ear-ringing, voice, grinning down at eddie, his ocean blue eyes gleaming.

before the brown-eyed boy could respond with a ‘don’t call me that’ and a soft shove, myra was walking through the doorway and richie’s arm was unwrapping itself from his shoulders, leaving him with a heart that had plunged down into his lower stomach. “i see you two have made friends with one another.” friends. all they would ever be.

to that, richie nodded, the grin still on his face. does he ever stop fucking grinning? “we have, haven’t we, spaghetti head?” the words seemed as if they came from another planet, for the sound of blood rushing behind his ears was too loud for the small boy to process what richie was saying.

he excused himself to go use the bathroom then, and when he got there, he realized he might as well have been losing his mind. “keep it together, kaspbrak,” he said to his reflection, swallowing down a lump in his throat. “it’s just richie,” the name was still unfamiliar, “just myra’s new, unsuccessful boyfriend, richie.”

when eddie finally got himself to come out of the bathroom and walk into the living room again, he was stopped dead in his tracks. myra’s pinky was looped around the taller boy’s and words were flowing out of his mouth beautifully.

“-i promise, okay? i’ll always be here for you,” and then he was moving his hand up and extending his thumb to kiss. “i never break a pinky promise.” if only eddie would have known those six words would be repeating through his head painfully for three years afterwards. richie looked like a totally different person when he was serious, eddie then realized. he felt anxiety creep up his body with the question ‘i wonder if i’ll ever be in myra’s spot’. he knew he’d probably have an asthma attack due to richie’s eyes alone.

“me and richie broke up,” is what eddie heard five days later coming through his cell phone speaker, the owner’s voice broken and rough. “i-i didn’t-”

“wait, wait, what happened?” the brown-eyed boy asked, more curious than sympathetic.

“he pinky promised me!” she wailed, ignoring his question and making eddie move the phone an inch or two from his ear. “he said he never breaks pinky promises, and he did!”

eddie stopped talking to myra after that. not because of any particular reason, but just simply because of the fact that whenever he looked at her, all he could think about was richie’s arm around him and richie’s pinky promise and richie’s beautiful, blue eyes. the two boys never swapped numbers, so eddie had to spend the rest of eighth grade wondering if richie was ever really his ‘friend’, or if he was only taking interest in the hypochondriac because of myra.

what he didn’t realize until three months later, though, was that richie actually never did break his pinky promise. he was still there for myra if she needed him, but eddie guesses he lost interest in being something more than acquaintances. richie was good with his words and eddie was destined to be wrapped around his finger sooner or later.

#my boy #it 2017 #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #finn wolfhard #the losers club #jack dylan grazer #reddie #richie’s work #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak

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islareeveswriting · 6 years ago

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INSTAS

Time is a healer.

Molly knew how true that was. Even her bruised, but maybe not completely broken, heart had been healed by a few weeks of nurture. It seemed there was nothing a little time couldn’t wrap its arms around and restore to what it had once been before. It couldn’t erase scars left behind by battles that had gone on for a little to long not to leave a mark, but it did make them fade, and a little easier to hide. After nearly two months, Molly felt like she was back to herself and moving forward. At least emotionally.

Physically, Molly felt like she’d been hit by a convoy of ten tonne trucks. Everything ached, her eyes felt tired, her head felt heavy, and her throat felt like it had made good friends with a parmesan grater. What had started as a bad hangover, had quickly developed into a cold and had continued to get worse from there. Three days had passed since she’d woken up in Harry’s bed, and the headache she’d had that morning was yet to disappear for more than a few paracetamol induced hours.

University had started back up, and after her first lecture of the new semester Molly had a pile of research waiting on her desk for her. However, mustering the energy to actually make some progress on it was a challenge. It was only likely to be added to after her two pm portfolio presentation workshop that afternoon, but still Molly had left the house that morning with her research project as untouched as it had been when she’d thrown the file on her desk two days ago and collapsed on her bed. Again.

It was a typical January day. The light that managed to make it through the thick, virtually black, clouds hardly lit up the streets at all, and it was a wonder they’d bothered to turn the street lights off. The air was bitter, it seemed winter was only getting colder as spring should have approached, and there was an ever present threat of torrential rain. The clouds were dark enough, but they just seemed to be keeping everyone on edge, not sure whether to brave the outside or hold refuge indoors with hot drinks and comforting food.

The cafe Amanda had chosen for their coffee date was virtually empty. Apart from Molly and Amanda, sat in a booth designed for six, there were two other tables being used. The two waitresses were as aware as Molly that they needn’t have both been there, and it was clear they were struggling to even appear busy, let alone actually be busy. Zak was the noisiest part of the cafe, his chattering and giggling cutting over the hushed conversations of everyone else there.

It had taken Amanda less than twelve hours to message Molly after meeting on Sunday morning at brunch, three days later, and they were sat opposite each other in a cafe around the corner from Amanda’s house, as if it was something they’d done a million times before. Molly hadn’t exactly been surprised Amanda had followed through with getting her number from Harry, but by the same token Molly wouldn’t have been surprised if it hadn’t happened either, and she wouldn’t have been offended. Molly was five years Amanda’s junior, and outwardly it appeared they didn’t have a lot in common. However, as Molly got closer to the end of her pot of tea, it was apparent the two of them had a lot more in common than anyone would have imagined.

Apart from the fact, Molly seemed to now be in the same boat Amanda had been in five years ago with Joe after ending a serious relationship, they both had older sisters they considered best friends, had both moved to the city they now called home for university, and had both felt an unfavourable welcome from Katie when they first met. The fact the blonde haired girl had been so cold at brunch had played on Molly’s mind ever since. It was hard to get the feeling that she’d been being judged for something she wasn’t aware of was hard to budge. Despite the fact Harry had been so quick to touch her leg with his knee each time Katie spoke to her like she was keeping score, he’d not mentioned it since. It wasn’t that Molly was necessarily expecting him to, it was just she wanted to know why it felt like daggers were being fired at her for the two hours she’d been sat opposite Katie.

Normally, Molly wouldn’t think anything of it, people could be cold when they didn’t know someone, she understood that, and it was fine. But Molly didn’t get the feeling Katie had been cold purely because she didn’t know Molly. The way she’d rolled her eyes when Harry called her love, had seemed so anxious to hear whether they were together or not, had given Molly the impression she was stepping on toes. Though why she couldn’t figure out.

At first she’d thought she might have asked Harry about it. It was clear from the look he gave her when Amanda had pushed her eggs over the table to Katie, that there were opinions on the blue eyed blonde who looked like she wouldn’t say boo to a goose. However, after their conversation in Harry’s car about Molly's body image issues, and after Harry opened up a little bit about his dad, Katie’s attitude towards her wasn’t exactly the most pressing thing on Mollys mind.

However, when Amanda bought the situation up over coffee, it felt like the universe was giving Molly a free pass to ask her questions and not feel guilty for one of Harry’s friends leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

“She’s erm,” Molly hesitated. Free pass or not she didn’t want to appear callous, and she’d always struggled to find a bad word to say about anyone. It felt even harder when what she wanted to say was based purely on a feeling rather than anything Katie had actually done. “Hard?” Molly tried. Amanda scoffed a laugh though and nodded her head.

“That’s one way of putting it.” Amanda supposed, lifting her eyebrows a little. Molly wasn’t sure what to say next, she rolled her lips together and dropped her eyes. It was hard to explain. If Harry hadn’t been sat next to her at brunch, and if Amanda hadn’t been so warm and welcoming, she knew she’d have felt incredibly uncomfortable at that table thanks to the way Katie acted towards her. Little comments, looks, her tone of voice. Molly wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but that didn’t mean it felt any less agreeable to Molly. The thing was Molly didn’t want to look two-faced, or put her foot in something she didn’t see coming. There could be a reasonable explanation for the way Katie had been, Molly knew little to nothing about any of Harry’s friends to be able to be sure either way. Molly was finding it hard to explain it without sounding like she was backstabbing someone she didn’t know from Adam.

“You don’t have to worry Molly, it’s not a secret that me and her don’t exactly get on.” Amanda went on. “When I first started seeing Joe she told anyone who would listen that I’d cheated on my ex multiple times, not true, and that Joe should be careful.” Amanda explained with a shrug. It appeared that, now, Amanda thought nothing of it, but Molly could bet that at the time it hadn’t been so easy to shrug away. “I didn’t even know her name.” Amanda finished, and the sting she’d felt was clear in her voice.

“Wow, that’s extreme.” Molly gaped, eyes widening a little. “Why did she do that?” Molly asked, but Amanda just shrugged, swallowing the sip of coffee she’d taken whilst Molly was taking in what she’d just said, trying, but ultimately, failing to understand it.

“I don’t really know, but I think it’s a jealousy thing.” Amanda guessed with a slight shrug, cradling the coffee cup in her hands.

“A jealousy thing?” Amanda just nodded. “What’s she jealous of?” Again Amanda shrugged. Molly couldn’t make head or tail of it and it confused her to say the least. Katie was a pretty girl, attractive, she was engaged to a man that seemed like a gentleman, and was good looking, strong, she had a good group of friends. Molly was at a loss for what she had to be jealous of, when Molly walked into the cafe with Harry, riddled with nerves and anxious to be liked by the friends of Harry’s he introduced her to. As far as Molly could see, if anything, it should have been the other way around.

“It’s weird, but she gets kinda territorial over those boys, like no one can be good enough for them apart from her.” Amanda said, but there was something about her voice that made Molly think it wasn’t so much of a guess anymore.

“She’s got Rich!” Molly stressed wide-eyed, her nose crinkling.

“I know.” Amanda confirmed. “That’s why I say it’s weird, but it is honestly like she doesn’t want any other girls in their lives apart from her.” She explained, or at least tried, all though it was clear from Molly’s face that it made absolutely no sense to her.

“The fuck?” Molly questioned. For a minute Molly tried to understand, put herself in Katie’s shoes. She imagined how she’d feel if Jimmy bought a girl home, introduced her to Molly and the rest of their housemates. The idea only filled Molly with excitement. Since she met Jimmy she knew he’d make a great boyfriend for the right person. In no circumstance could she imagine herself being jealous of a girlfriend of Jimmy, maybe if she turned out not be a nice person she might grow to dislike her, but never jealous.

“I mean maybe it’s something else with Harry, I dunno, maybe, I dunno,” Amanda started to trip over her words appearing unsure in a way that Molly doubted came to her very easily considering how confident she came across otherwise. She was quick to paper over it, carry on like she hadn’t saing anything; “part of me wonders as well if she’s worried someone will get down the aisle before her.” Amanda continued, but that only made Molly crease her brow more than she already had done, looking across the table to Amanda. “Her and Rich have been engaged for donkeys, he’s only just agreed to set a date and it’s still a year away.” Amanda explained. Molly rolled her eyes, she only felt more confused than she had done before they’d started the conversation.

“Considering Harry and I are just friends that’s not likely to be an issue is it?” Molly pointed out with a slight eye roll.

“You’re really still pulling that ‘just friends’ thing?” Molly didn’t say anything to answer Amanda’s question. If Molly was honest she didn’t know what they were doing. They seemed to be continuously testing boundaries, but never actually getting through them, maybe both a little scared of what waited on the other side for them. Apparently, Molly’s silence was answer enough for Amanda though. “Are you not bored of that yet?” She pushed, Molly dropping her eyes. “So that’s a yes.” Amanda pointed out, correctly. Molly was bored of it. She was fed up with trying to convince herself Harry didn’t make her feel something, that it wasn’t getting more intense every time she saw something glittering in his eye. And she was fed up of not being sure, but being entirely certain all at once, that she saw Harry doing the same.

“It’s not that I’m bored of it, just, well I didn’t expect to start feeling like this so soon after Ryan.” Molly tried to explain, because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get away from the fact that two months after ending a four year relationship felt like too soon to be moving onto something new.

“Surely that tells you how real the feelings are.” Amanda suggested, scotting forward a little and glancing down at Zak who was scooting toy cars along the leather bench distractedly, beside her, seemingly completely oblivious to his mother’s conversation or that she’d even moved.

“You think?” Molly asked narrowing her eyes slightly, clearly unsure.

“Yeah, I know what it's like to come out of a long term relationship and feel like you won’t go there again for a long time to then bump into someone you really like, the fact you weren’t looking for it but found it anyway? That’s a sign.” Amanda told Molly with a reassuring certainty. Despite how sure Amanda sounded, Molly still couldn’t settle it in her own head, not completely at least, and she had to wonder if it was the same thing holding Harry back. Or if it was just that she hadn’t quite managed to teeter over the edge yet, and he didn’t want to be the one to push her. “He is smitten with you, you can tell by the way he looks at you.” Amanda announced, only making Molly blush and drop her eyes to the table in attempt to hide it. “Sorry, we don’t have to talk about this, so he didn’t warn you about Katie?” Amanda asked, taking another sip of her coffee as Molly lifted her gaze again, hoping the flush of her cheeks had died down.

“No, but maybe he’s not noticed it.” Molly mused with a slight shrug of her shoulders, the loose neckline of her jumper falling down for it.

“Oh he has, she’s like it with every girl.” Amanda pointed out, her words making Molly feel as disposable as the throwaway comment for a few moments. There was a familiar prickle inside her, but one she refused to let grow the way she had in Woodies a few nights ago. It was one thing to feel jealous of a nameless woman, but nameless faceless women, that bore no threat to something, that at that moment was nothing anyway, was completely ridiculous as far as Molly could see.

“Every girl?” She asked, nonetheless, her voice slightly higher than she’d anticipated.

“Well Shane’s ex, me, some girl Niall introduced last year.” Amanda listed, not mentioning Harry’s name once. Molly nodded, wondering if Amanda was holding something back for her benefit, and wishing she wouldn’t. “Don’t worry, you’re the first girl Harry has ever introduced to us, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Amanda reassured quickly and a strange, unprecedented, feeling of relief washed over Molly.

“I’m not worried.” Molly clucked quickly, too quickly to be believable.

“Uh huh? That’s why you were squirming around like a worm on a fish hook.” Amanda smirked knowingly, one perfectly filled in eyebrow rising slightly. Molly just rolled her eyes and shook her head, not even bothering to hide the slight heat she was feeling under Amanda’s spotlight. “It’s cute, just go with it, what have you got to loose?”

“A bloody good friendship.” Molly pointed out.

“God if I had a pound for everytime someone didn’t go for it because they were scared of losing a friend.” Amanda groaned. “If you were meant be just friends forever, you wouldn’t fancy the pants off him, and if the friendship is that good it won’t be ruined by a kiss and a cuddle.” Molly sighed and began spinning her mug around in circles on the table, not sure what to say. It was hard to argue with someone who seemed so confident in what they were saying, even if Molly wasn’t entirely sure she agreed. “I’m sorry, I just can’t sit back, having seen how you are with one another and not say anything, it’s ridiculous.” Amanda sighed falling back into the seat.

“Ok, can we talk about something else other than how I apparently fancy the pants of Harry now?” Molly bargained. Amanda just chuckled and nodded. What was, or seemingly wasn’t, happening with Harry, wasn’t something Molly felt ready to discuss with anyone other than the voice in her head. It was hard enough for herself to make sense of her feelings, let alone trying to do so out loud for someone else.

They finished their drinks and chatted for another half an hour. It really didn’t feel like the first time the two of them had socialised together without a mutual friend. Conversation passed easily and the time quickly. When Molly checked her phone, her mug of tea empty, she realised she should really be leaving fairly soon to make it to the campus for her workshop.

“Well then little fella, we best let Molly get going.” Amanda sung, placing her cup on the mug and looking down at Zak, seemingly reading Molly’s mind. The little boy looked up at Zak with doey brown eyes that matched his mother’s exactly, before looking to Molly.

“Where’sa going?” Zak asked with a deeply creased brow, his lips a little pouty, the picture of confusion and slight disappointment.

“I’ve got to go to univers-school.” Molly settled on, guessing Zak wouldn’t have a comprehension of university. It did nothing to help the look on his face though, his eyebrows just lowered further and his bottom lip seemed to stick out more. It was evident Zak had no expectation for Molly to leave without them. “But I’ll see you again real soon.” Molly promised with a smile and a gleam in her voice. “Ok?” She offered. Zak sighed heavily, his little shoulders lifting and falling with discontent at, what seemed to be in Zak’s eyes, and unfavourable compromise.

“Ok.” He grumbled sadly, looking back down at the car in his hand and hitting it against the sofa.

“Are you ok? You don’t look so good.” Amanda pointed out, a glimmer of concern in her voice and over her face.

“Yeah think I’ve got a bit of a cold, nothing to worry about.” Molly smiled, though it felt like a massive effort to do so. Before leaving the house, she’d taken a couple of paracetamol to try and keep her aches at bay, however, through the morning, it had begun to wear off. She felt it in her shoulders first, it felt like she’d slept awkwardly, and then her face started to ache, and finally her head started to feel like it was being shut between a door, over and over again, her temples throbbing. The box of paracetamol was still sat on the kitchen side at home, Molly had anticipated the effects lasting until she got home from her workshop. Clearly, she’d been wrong.

Out on the street, the air still bitterly cold and the clouds still ominously dark, Molly and Amanda said a hasty goodbye, both wanting to get back indoors and out of the weather as quickly as possible. On insistence from Amanda, Zak managed to pull his little hand out from the blanket tucked around him, in his pushchair, to give Molly a wave goodbye. Molly couldn’t blame him, if she had a choice she’d be tucked up with, what looked like, a handmade woollen blanket, rather than cocooned in a puffy, waterproof parka that didn’t do a whole lot for the cold. Even the fur lined hood didn’t keep much warmth in, and she was trying not to shiver as she stood saying goodbye.

With a promise to see each other again soon, they both headed in separate directions, Amanda off to her warm, well heated home, and Molly off to the cold, open, workshop room on campus. ��Of course Molly knew where she’d rather be heading, but making a start on her portfolio was important. More important than getting cosy with a cup of tea on her bed, and more important than the sleep her heavy eyes were telling her she needed. Even if the idea alone of pyjamas, tea and her bed made her warmer than the fluffy socks she had on under her boots or the jumper and coat combo she was wearing. It didn’t matter when she had her second year portfolio to get her head around, the first one that really mattered.

No one had ever expected Molly to choose a fashion degree, it had surprised Molly at first as well, but when she really thought about it, it made far more sense than going into teaching the way she’d always planned. As a child she was going to be a teacher, once she got to secondary school that progressed to art teacher, because at least that sat well with her creative nature. It wasn’t until her textiles teacher asked her if she’d considered any design schools for university that the idea of doing anything other than teaching entered her head.

For a long time she’d kept the thought to herself, mulled it over, secretly looked into design courses. Miss Edwards said she was more than capable, and nothing beat the buzz that she got from bringing her designs to life. It wasn’t until she opened up to the idea, that she really realised the thrill she got from men’s fashion and tailoring projects. The excitement far exceeded that of anything she’d done in art, or the idea of standing in front of a classroom filled with rowdy teenagers, the majority of who wouldn’t even want to be in an art class.

It had made her nervous, telling her parents that she’d changed her mind about following in their footsteps and going into teaching, but they’d been supportive as they always had. Just as supportive as when Jeanie told them she didn’t want to continue with education at all, and would rather go off travelling around South East Asia and Australia. It was always a case of whatever was best for them, whatever was going to make their daughters happy, they could get behind. Molly didn’t know why she always got so nervous about telling her parents something somewhat life changing, because the reaction had always been positive. It was Ryan that doubted it, made her question it for a second, before she walked into her Textiles classroom and was handed her ticket to men’s London Fashion Week and squealed with excitement.

There was no doubt. Suddenly she felt like she was born to study Fashion and Textile design, to work in that industry, and get a buzz from it everyday.

Everyday, Molly still did get a buzz that she was able to do something she loved, was making steps to being able to carve a career in something that made her heart sing. However, she still felt an unnecessary need to please people, to prove that she’d made the right decision, and she wasn’t wasting time and money studying something that could end in a dead end retail career; as Ryan had so kindly put it after she’d submitted her UCAS application to five universities for fashion design courses.

Looking back, how she’d been with him so long was a question she couldn’t answer. He’d never been supportive. But that was done now, and what she’d learned was although she didn’t need someone by her side to be supportive of her every move, she did want it.

The previous workshop hadn’t kicked out when Molly rocked up outside. Looking at her phone she was only five minutes earlier so she rested against the wall, beside the door and waited patiently for two pm to tick around. It was rare to walk into a workshop straight after another group had been in there. Normally Molly would walk straight into the room and make herself comfortable to wait for the class to start. As it was, she waited in the cold corridor, cuddling her arms around herself, and praying to god someone had wheeled an electric heater into the room.

“Molly.” Molly snapped her head up. She’d only meant to rest her eyes, but it appeared she was close to drifting off, standing against the wall, her head fallen into her chest. Quickly she felt her cheeks reddening as she flicked her head around to find her lecturer looking at her confused. Max Hambleton had worked for Calvin Klein and Tom Ford in New York, and done a stint in Milan for various designers. Not to mention the chorus of high end fashion magazines he’d worked for. Yet Molly was being called to consciousness by him in a university corridor. It wasn’t exactly how she wanted him to remember her, but she was sure he now would. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine sorry.” Molly hastened, straightening herself and hoisting her bag up onto her shoulder further. Max just looked her up and down a little, a slight furrow in his clearly botoxed brow as Molly moved from the wall to get in through the door.

“Are you sure you’re feeling ok?” Max asked again, pulling the door closed behind him. “You don’t look so good.” He explained folding his arms across his chest as a concerned look ran across his features, still looking over Molly’s colourless face an dim eyes.

“So everyone keeps saying.” Molly grumbled, shrugging at her bag again for no real reason. “It’s just a cold, I’m fine.” Molly explained, though the depth and croak of her voice did nothing to evidence that she was indeed fine.

“I’m sending you home.” Max instructed after a few seconds of looking over Molly again. There was no getting away from just how un-herself she looked. She looked drained and like she hadn’t slept in weeks, though it had barely been days.

“I’m fine.” Molly tried again, but Max shook his head and opened the door.

“No, you need to go home and rest.” He insisted with wide eyes. It was often easy to forget workshop leaders were teachers, they, particularly Max, had a tendency to act more like a friend. However, when he used that tone, and wore that look, it was very clear he was the one in charge. “I’ll send you the notes and the assignment, but I don’t want to see you again until you don’t look like you’ve just done twenty rounds with Muhammad Ali, ok?” Matt told her, one hand on the door handle, the other on his hip. Molly sighed and shook her head, looking down at her black Timberlands. It wasn’t what she wanted at all, but it was quite evident there wasn’t a choice.

“Fine.” Molly grumbled, turning on her heel and walking away, only glancing over her shoulder when she heard the door shut.

If Molly was brutally honest with herself, she felt a little relieved to be heading back home. The morning, that had consisted of not a lot, had taken it out of her, and with the tablets she’d taken now leaving her system, every limb was aching, literally, for her bed and a little sleep. Normally a missed workshop, lecture, seminar, might keep her awake, but she was fairly certain, feeling how she currently was, there was very little that would stop her falling asleep the second her head hit the pillow. Even so she knew she’d be checking her emails the second she got in for Max’s promised notes so she could print and read over them that night with a cup of tea.

The busses were running behind schedule. The wait for Molly’s bus was twelve minutes when she got to the bus stop and stood under the shelter out of the wind. There was no one else about, a couple of students wandering down the road towards the campus, but other than that no one. Molly seemed to be the only one who made enough effort to be out on the gloomiest day of the new year so far.

For a mere second she considered calling a taxi. She had numbers saved in her phone from nights out, just in case, though they were rarely used. The cold was getting to her, and she was only getting more tired. Molly even opened her bag to start hunting for her phone before she stopped herself. She’d paid forty pounds for a months bus pass to see her through the bitterest of winter months, and she’d be damned if she didn’t get her moneys worth. Looking at the announcement board, she saw two minutes had passed already. Only ten minutes and she’d be on a warm bus that would take her virtually to her front door. It really wasn’t that bad in the grand scheme of things.

It was the slowest ten minutes of her life. Two other busses came and went, but neither of them were the one Molly required. When it did eventually pull up into the stop, Molly felt frozen to her core and she couldn’t stop the shivering anymore. Her fingers were shaking as she flicked her bus pass card against the ticket machine and wandered up the narrow galley for an empty double seat. A bus chair had never felt so good, and her feet rested against the hot air blower under the seat she’d hoped would be free.

Slowly, Molly got warmer, but the shivering didn’t cease, in fact it only seemed to increase. Each stop passed in a blur of passengers, and Molly only got hotter, to the point she considered taking her coat off, but never did, enjoying the blanketing feeling it was giving her as she cuddled it around herself and snuggled her chin down into it. Not to mention, the fact she was still shaking from cold, so perhaps she wasn’t as warm as she thought.

When the bus eventually got to her road, Molly leaned forward and pressed the button, hoiking herself up from the seat with a great deal of effort and dragging herself off the bus, thanking the driver as she passed the little window he sat behind. The cold hit her again instantly and her teeth chattered as she walked, as fast as she could, for the severe lack of energy to her house. The lights in the entrance way, and their kitchen were on, she could see that. Of course that didn’t mean anyone was in. No one was guilt-free when it came to forgetting to turn lights off before leaving the house.

Molly began to rummage in her huge back for her house keys before she got to the door. Of course they were right at the bottom, tangled around her portable charger lead that had somehow escaped from the pouch she kept it in. There was nothing that made Molly want to untangle them there and then, so she just tugged at the keys until they were released enough to be useable and awkwardly let herself in.

The noise hit her immediately. Loud chanting and cheering that reminded her of the headache she hadn’t forgotten about anyway. The laughter was boisterous and the voices low, chorusing from the front room. Molly groaned to herself as she dropped her bag to the floor and kicked her boots off. Never in her life had Molly walked around with socks on her feet, she hated the sensation, but even that came second to trying to keep the warmth she’d worked up inside her body rather than letting it out. She padded through to the kitchen, barely lifting her feet, rather scuffing them across the cheap laminate that was chipped and dented in places.

A large group of boys were crowded into the living space of the house, spread out of the chairs and floor, taking over the whole room. Ben was sat on the arm of the big three seater sofa, a controller in his hand. Little cartoon looking men were running around on the screen and Molly could have cried. Noticing the light had been on, she’d just hoped someone had left it on, as was normally the case. Instead, it meant her house was filled with Ben’s football team friends for an afternoon of video games before their weekly night out with the netball team. Molly was staring hopelessly at them, wishing they’d just disappear, when Ben turned around with a wide smile on his face having just scored a goal.

“Alright Mol?” He asked, turning back to the TV. “Look a bit rough.”

“Yeah got a cold, and a banging headache.” Molly told him, putting emphasis on the headache part, hoping he’d get the hint, though Ben didn’t seem to hear at all, just nodded. “I’m going to bed.”

“Ok, have fun.” Molly rolled her eyes, groaned loudly and snatched the box of paracetamol tablets from the kitchen side where she’d left them that morning, before traipsing back out to her bedroom, grabbing her bag as she went.

The rest of the flat was dark, and Molly’s bedroom was no different. Even with the blinds open the natural light seeping through was minimal. Despite that she shut them, darkening the room further and falling to sit on her bed. There was a glass of water on the side from that morning and she swallowed two of the tablets with a mouthful of it easily. Finally she shrugged her coat off and pushed it onto the floor so she could get comfy under her duvet.

Molly shut her eyes and tried to let sleep take her, but the noise travelling through from the living room was hard to get away from. The thin walls and doors that didn’t quite reach the floors meant Molly could hear virtually every word, and definitely every sound that came from the congregation of boys that were getting far too excited over a video game. It was sods law that the one afternoon Molly actually wanted the house to herself, or at least for the house to be quiet, it was full of people. Noisy people.

Feeling the way she was, Molly thought sleep would come easily regardless of anything else. However, as she tossed and turned in her bed, she realised she was wrong. She began to feel restless, her aching legs frustrating her with their unwillingness to relax. Uncomfortable didn’t quite cut it, but getting out of bed to undress and put pyjamas on didn’t seem appealing either. Sleep was all she wanted, a long deep sleep that would rid her of the headache, and the restlessness, and the grating of her throat.

Finally with her head covered by her duvet, one leg tucked up to her chest, the other stretched across the bed, Molly felt comfortable. Her mind started to switch off and through duvet the noise that had been irritating her became nothing more than a background buzz that was easier to ignore.

It felt like she’d only just begun to doze off when her phone rang loud through the silence she’d found and jolted her back to consciousness aggressively. It was never going to be urgent, but Molly was so stunned into being awake again, that she found herself scrambling from her bed for her phone, still in her coat pocket. When she finally pulled it out, Harry’s name and contact photo, on she’d taken of him the last time they’d been together, flashed on the screen. She slid it across to answer and fell back into her bed.

“Hello?” Molly answered groggily.

“Oh sorry were you asleep?” Harry asked and she could hear the concern in his voice, over the noise of crashing around in the background.

“Trying to.” Molly told him, yawning as she did so.

“Oh sorry love, thought I’d caught you after your workshop.” Harry explained, the background noise ceasing and a loud slam of a car door sounding instead. “Was gonna ask if you wanted to hang out?” Harry asked. Molly’s tummy flipped. She would have loved to, spending the evening with Harry sounded perfect, but her still pounding headache, and yet to be resolved lack of sleep were telling it probabaly wasn’t the best move.

“I’d love to, but I got sent home from uni ill so should probably just rest up.” Molly lamented sadly, combing her hair away from her face. Even that hurt her sensitive head and made her wince her little as she took her fingers from the tangled lengths steadily.

“You got sent home!?” Harry cried in disbelief. “I told you you were sick and should get rest.” Harry reminder her, Molly rolling her eyes having anticipated that reaction. Since Sunday evening Harry had told her countless times he thought she was getting ill and needed to rest, she’d insisted it was just a bit of a cold and would pass, though Harry wasn’t so sure, and had clearly been right not to be so easily convinced. “Well you need to sleep.”

“I’m trying, Ben’s got all the football lads here and they’re causing a right racket.” Molly complained, staring through the walls as if the boys four rooms down might be able to feel her glare through the bricks.

“Really?” Harry asked, Molly just hummed in response. “Wanna come to mine?” Harry asked. Molly didn’t say anything for a minute, Harry did though; “It’ll be quiet, and warm.” He told her and Molly knew that would be true. Harry’s flat had been just the right temperature every time she’d been there, even her tendency to feel the cold hadn’t been able to prevail, and Molly was fairly certain even the M25 was currently more quiet than her flat.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get ill as well.” Molly warned him.

“Of course I’m sure, it’s fine.” Harry promised. “Look, I’m just packing up at work, give me an hour or so and I’ll come and grab you yeah?” Molly hadn’t realised it was that late in the day until then, but suddenly it made sense that her room felt darker than it had before. Maybe she had caught a bit of sleep somewhere in her fogged head.

“Ok.” Molly smiled.

“And hey, we get to hang out too.” Harry pointed out and she swore she could hear the grin on his face.

“True.”

“Ok, well I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Will do, thank you.” Molly smiled to herself, content in the warmth she was feeling from Harry’s offer and the idea of spending the evening in his flat with him.

“Of course.” Harry breathed, before they said their goodbyes and Harry ended the call, eager to get packed up at work. Molly was just as eager, she couldn’t wait to see him. It had been two days since they’d seen each other, of course they’d spoken, every night on the phone, but nothing beat actually being in his company. It was sickeningly addictive, and spending time with him was sweet and soft. Suddenly Molly felt a little spring in her step, and she wanted to do anything possible to make the time go quicker until Harry was knocking on her door again. It wasn’t anything Molly had ever experienced before. It was so different to what she’d had with Ryan. The feeling inside her was far more exciting, and somehow more blissful.

Looking back, how things with Ryan had happened had been predictable. What was moving with Harry seemed to come from nowhere, and the unexpected nature of it only made it more thrilling and exciting. Though that wasn’t the only reason she felt a constant kaleidoscope of butterflies in her tummy and the mere mention of his name, let alone his voice, or his presence. There was something about it, something more than the undoubted rugged good looks he had, or his strong sure stature, or how he could go from a dark smirk to bubbly grin in under two seconds. It was the way he made Molly feel. In the five months they’d known one another, he’d made her feel more comfortable with being herself, and more at home, than she realised she could. He took it to another level for her, that she wasn’t aware existed. It could have been frightening if it didn’t feel so good.

Molly always had the tendency to blow things out of proportion, to stress over the small stuff, it was just part of her nature. Somehow, Harry made that not feel so necessary. Somehow he made even the big stuff feel like it didn’t need a second of her brain space or her attention. Everything felt easy around him. Apart from maybe being around him.

Every now and again, a little flutter of nerves would rise their head when they were together. Normally when she was under his intense gaze, his eyes locked on her as he waited for her to say something, or answer a question, or make a decision. It was getting more frequent though. When he’d been sat casually shirtless in his living room, seemingly entirely unaware of the effect he had on her. The way he’d looked at her in Nancy’s hallway. The feeling of his knee tapping against hers under the table at brunch and how for a second she’d wished, thought, it was his hand making home on her thigh.

It wasn’t nerves that made her feel sick, or scared her, or made her aware of something she should avoid. Instead it was nerves that ignited every part of her and burned through her like friendly fire. It wasn’t nerves she wanted to stop or make go away, take deep breaths through to ease. It seemed to be getting worse every time they moved closer into each other's orbits and everytime they took a little step away from ‘just friends’, everytime they got closer to diving into that water together. The water seemed clearer than it had before, far less rocks to get stuck on, and much smoother. It seemed like it would be blissful.

Seeing as her phone was already in her hand, Molly used the time she was anxious to pass to check her emails for the notes from Max. It was there second from the top, under a promotional email from Victoria’s Secret. ‘Intro to portfolio presentation notes.’ Molly clicked on it and opened up the attachment. It wasn’t the best device for reading over the notes, but her mind wasn’t exactly in the right place to take it all in properly, so it made no odds.

There were only eight slides on the powerpoint presentation, and the bullet points made for light easy reading. It was mostly basic ideas that Molly had already started to get her head around in first year. Obviously it meant more now, with the marks she got this year going towards her overall degree grade, and the few added tips and pointers were useful. Molly already had an idea in her mind for the ‘re-imagining’ project though. It had only been introduced to her two days ago in her first seminar of the semester, but by the time she was home she had inspiration in her head, and fabric samples practically bought.

It wasn’t unusual for Molly to get ahead of herself, and eventually she’d slow down, and probably panic and set herself back as she started to think too much rather than go with the direction her creativity was pulling her in. However, in that moment, she was excited about the prospect. It gave her an excuse to work on menswear, which was something she didn’t really need an excuse for, and also a chance to put her tailoring skills to use.

The notes seemed to take longer for her to get through, but only because she kept getting distracted by the picture examples Max had included with inspired ideas of her own. When the knock on the door sounded heavy around the flat, Molly jumped to attention, suddenly remembering the doorbell they still had yet to get fixed. Molly got up from her bed and all but skipped to her bedroom door. When she got out to the hallway, Ben was already stood with it open, letting Harry into the house, the two of them chattering and laughing.

“Hey.” Molly called drawing their attention. Harry spun his head to her and grinned quickly. “Mind if I just get changed into something comfier?” Molly asked. She’d been intending on getting changed before Harry turned up, but she hadn’t expected him to be so quick.

“Of course.” Harry nodded. Ben invited Harry into the lounge as Molly turned back to her room to get changed. Folded on her desk were the grey leggings Lauren had bought her for Christmas, the ones that matched the pair Lauren owned and Molly always told her she loved, with the black waistband and brand name written around it. Molly pulled them on, they were the softest things she’d ever worn and she loved them. They suited her current state perfectly, along with the navy hoodie folded underneath them. It was far from her most stylish look, but she didn’t care even an ounce about that, and just to push the point she pulled on a pair of fluffy socks and slid her feet into her Adidas Superstars before going back out to the lounge to find Harry with her handbag on her shoulder.

“Manchester United? Why?” Ben was asking, sat back in the same spot he had been earlier, Harry stood beside him with his arms folded across his chest, both glued to the computer generated football game two of Ben’s friends were playing.

“That’s where I’m from.” Harry laughed, and Molly felt herself being taken back. She’d always noted Harry’s slightly northern accent, but somehow it still took her by surprise.

“I didn’t know that.” She noted from the kitchen, checking through her bag that she had everything she could need and throwing the box of paracetamol into it.

“You never noticed his accent before Mol?” Ben chuckled. Molly just gave him a glare, until he turned back to the TV with an amused grin on his face. Harry was striding towards her, hands in the black zip up fleece he was wearing, covered in dust, and chuckling to himself. It wasn’t Molly hadn’t noticed, in fact it was one of the first things she’d noticed aside from his annoyingly good looks, but it was never confirmed and it just seemed to point out how little Molly knew about Harry’s past.

“You really are ill huh love?” Harry chided once he was close enough. Molly just rolled her eyes at him and coughed dramatically only earning enough throaty laugh from Harry. “Ready for some R&R then?” He asked.

“Definitely.” Molly smiled, sliding her arm through the bend in Harry’s that he outstretched for her to do so, deciding in her kitchen, with a living room full of boys wasn’t the place to start asking about Harry’s childhood, and also wondering if there ever would be a time and a place.

The drive out to Harry’s place felt peaceful. Molly found herself pushing as far back into the seat as she could and wrapping herself in the teddy bear coat she’d pulled on before leaving. The heating system was chucking out warm air that made her feel sleepy, the low light of the street lamps only aiding it. It had started to rain at last, and gentle spots of water tapped at the glass as Harry drove through it towards his house. They had the music turned low, to a volume that didn’t make Molly’s head pound anymore than it already was, and was also conductive to a little conversation about the days they’d both just had. Molly made the decision not to mention the conversation she’d had with Amanda about Katie, it didn’t feel necessary, but she did mention that she’d had a really lovely lunch with her, though neither of them had eaten anything.

Once they were in Harry’s flat, Harry was quick to kick off his work boots and strip off his fleece, the polo shirt underneath tight fitting and hugging every muscle it covered. The flat was already heated, the underfloor pipes obviously having kicked in at some point that afternoon in anticipation of Harry’s return from work. It meant Molly could slip her trainers and socks off and not worry about cold feet the way she had in her house. Harry flicked on a few lights as he went through the living room, Molly following once she’d taken her coat off and put her bag tidily in the corner of the entrance way.

“Feeling pretty rough then?” Harry asked, flicking on the lamp on the table beside the sofa. It felt like the cosy winter night it was. The lightbulbs Harry had chosen were dim, golden, inoffensive to Molly’s slightly sensitive eyes, and the rain was tickling against the glass gently.

“Yeah.” Molly nodded, jutting her bottom lip out a little, making Harry chuckle.

“Oh dear, poor Lolly.” Harry sympathised enthusiastically. “Do you think you should book a doctors appointment?” Harry asked, stepping a little closer to Molly, rolling his bottom lip into his mouth and chewing on it a little.

“Nah I’m not registered here and I’m not going all the way home for what I’m certain is just a cold.” Molly shrugged, toying with the sleeves of her hoodie.

“You’re not registered here!?” Harry gawped his head shooting forward and his eyes widening enough to crease his forehead. Molly just shook her head. She’d just never bothered, never really gotten around to it, and she rarely went to the doctors anyway, it felt rather pointless. “You should register here, what if it wasn’t just a cold?” Harry pressed, folding his arms across himself loosely.

“Yeah but it is, so it doesn’t matter.” Molly assured, maintaining eye contact with Harry as she did so. Molly saw his jaw tighten and she knew he wanted to argue the point. It only took a second though and he seemed to decide it was pointless, sighing and letting the tension leak out of him until he seemed relaxed again.

“What if it gets worse?” Harry asked quietly, and it was Molly’s turn to roll her eyes.

“If it gets worse, which it won’t, it’s a cold, I’ll think about going to the doctors.” Molly bargained monotonously. Of course she appreciated the concern, but she still wished Harry would listen to her and trust her when she was telling him she was ok. She was. She had a cold, maybe a bad cold, but a cold nonetheless.

“Want a bath before dinner?” Harry offered and Molly was visibly taken back, but Harry didn’t seem fazed just walked past her and headed for the bathroom. Molly turned to watch him go, open the bathroom door and turn the light on. “I’ve got some bath oil that’s good for colds, and a couple candles, baths always help.” Harry was chatting away, head in the under sink cupboard when Molly rounded the bathroom door, peering in as Harry fell back onto his knees inspecting a small, brown glass bottle, a purple label across it. “How do you feel about lavender?” Harry asked, looking up to Molly from where he was sat.

“Sure, but you don’t have to do this, I’m happy just chilling on the couch with you for the evening.” Molly told him, her hands holding onto the door frame gently, tipping her head to rest against it too.

“Nah, a bath will do you good, I’ll rustle up some soup while you’re in here.” Harry told her as he got to his feet and flicked the bath taps on, flicking his finger tips under the stream to check the water. “If you don’t feel better after this, you really might have to go to the doctors.” Harry jested with a smirk.

“Best make it good then, cause I’m not going to the doctors.” Molly sung sarcastically, Harry just huffing a sort of laugh as he turned his head from Molly to the bath slowly filling with water.

The tub was huge, deeper than the grandiose bath in her mother and father’s ensuite that never got used. Molly sunk into the warm water, the lights dimmed and candles lit around the room, the way Harry had left it for her, before he called her back to the bathroom to get undressed for her bath. There was black fluffy towel on the radiator keeping warm for when she was done, and Harry had left a bottle of shower gel beside the bath for her as well, the same one from last time. He’d apologised for his lack of feminine scents, but Molly had told him she didn’t mind and actually quite liked the smell of his shower gel, which had left her blushing and eager to shut the door, and Harry smirking knowingly, reading between the lines the way he did so well.

Harry was of course right, the bath instantly eased the ache in her limbs and she felt lighter for it as she closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh. The lavender oils that was coming off the water, through the mountains of bubbles that covered Molly entirely, eased her stuffy nose a little and helped relax her entirely. Molly had never had a bath like it, but she doubted she could go back to the plain water baths she was used to. Baths had never been Molly’s thing, she’d always preferred showers, but baths like the ones Harry had drawn for her, she could get used to those.

It was so tranquil, and despite the cold, Molly had never felt so relaxed. There wasn’t a sound apart from the occasional ripple of the water as she moved, or a slight sound of Harry in the kitchen. For the first time in three days Molly genuinely felt ok, rather than that she was running on empty with a constant headache.

Slowly she opened her eyes. Molly had no idea how long she’d been laying in the bath, but the temperature of the water had started to drop. With a sigh she pulled herself up, but apparently a little too quickly as her vision took a moment to catch up with her head. Even when it did, it still felt fuzzy and a little light. Molly just shook her head and got to her feet stepping out of the bath and reaching for the towel all in one movement. It was as she was wrapping the towel around her dripping wet body though, that her vision started to blur and spot even more.

It was an unfamiliar sensation, like somewhere between lying in the bath and getting out of it she’d forgotten her head. It felt light and disassociated with her body. It sounded like her ear drums were humming, and there was a severe sensation of nausea in her throat. Molly reached out for the light switch and flicked it on, wondering if it was the oddly low lighting that was making her feel out of sorts. It made no odds though, if anything it made it worse, her head started to pound, harder than it had all day, as well as feel fuzzy and disconnected to anything tangible.

Steadily Molly sat herself on the closed toilet seat lid and took a few deep breaths. She’d heard about people passing out, but it had never happened to her before, she had an idea that was what happening though, or trying to happen as her head only felt stranger and more dark spots made their way over her vision. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, but that didn’t make the spots disappear, instead the outskirts of her vision just got dark and hazy too.

“Harry.” Molly called loudly, her heart rate increasing somewhat and her breathing getting faster along with it. There was a low ringing noise in her ear, but she couldn’t hear anything over it, unable to tell if Harry was coming or not she called for him louder. “Harry!” She cried, staring at the door waiting for it to open. Every part of her was shaking, though her skin felt clammy and hot.

“You ok?” Molly heard him shout through the door over the din in her noise. Of course he was being polite and wasn’t about to just barge through the door, but Molly half wished he would as she began to find it harder to see and breathe, panic setting in.

“I think I’m going to pass out.” Molly sputtered loudly, and then the door did swing open aggressively, flying nearly off its hinges as Harry rushed in. Through the dark parts of her vision and the spots Molly could just about make out the blurry edges of Harry coming towards her. Tears were beginning to gather in her eyes which only made it harder to make him out, until he was in front of her, kneeling on the tiles and holding her shoulders firmly. “I can’t see.” Molly shook, quaking under Harry’s grasp.

“It’s ok, you’re ok,” Harry started suredly, his grip on her holding her steady. “Put your head down.” Harry instructed moving to the side a little and encouraging her to bend over herself. One of his hands slid from the top of her arm along her back, resting across her spine, the large expanse of it covering a vast part of her middle back. She could feel the warmth from his wrist to the tips of his fingers but the shivering didn’t stop, and the nausea just kept rising and falling, as if on the worst rollercoaster of her life. “Lolly, relax, I’m here, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” There was promise in his voice, and Molly couldn’t, not believe him.

You’re ok. Molly repeated in her head, taking slow deep breaths and grounding herself in the feeling of her lungs filling and emptying as she did so, and Harry’s hand gentle but steady on her back. He’s here. She reminded herself, noting how she could just feel the softness of his breath on her bare shoulder, like candy floss brushing against her skin, but warmer. He’s not going to let anything happen to you. Steadily she lifted her head, her vision seemed to be coming back, the spots decreasing and the blurry edges solidifying again.

“Steady.” Harry advised, moving background in front of her as Molly lifted her head and blinked, slowly, a few times, bringing Harry into focus.

“It’s ok, I can see now.” Molly told him quietly, clearing her throat from how it had clenched up around the panic she’d felt.

“Your head?” Harry asked gently, his forearms resting on her bent knees so his hands could reach her arms and cradle them.

“Still a little light.” Molly told him.

“Feel sick?” He questioned, and Molly nodded. “Ok, just calm down for a sec.” Harry instructed relaxing a little bit as Molly began to swallow on nothing and calm herself down. Under his touch her skin was sticky from a light sweat, it didn’t worry him in the slightest though, he just brushed the pad of his thumb against her goose pimpled arms. “Bit low on sugar?” Harry guessed. “What did you eat today?” Molly thought back on her day. She hadn’t eaten with Amanda, or since then. That morning, she’d attempted a bowl of cereal but hadn’t got very far with it before deciding on an apple for breakfast. “Have you eaten today?”

“An apple.” Molly told him honestly, wincing a little, already expecting the reaction she would get.

“An apple!?�� Harry shot. “Lolly, you’ve gotta eat? Why haven’t you eaten anything?”

“I just forgot.” Molly told him, again honestly. In the blur of meeting Amanda and getting to university only to get sent home, food hadn’t come to her mind. Apart from that, she didn’t exactly have an appetite.

“How do you forget to eat?” Harry sighed, shaking his head as his lips twisted a little. Molly just shrugged. “Nevermind, how’s your head feeling?”

“Better, just sore.” Molly told him, and Harry nodded.

“Come lie down for a minute.” Harry suggested, moving back and taking Molly’s hands. They stood up together hand in hand, Harry steading Molly with an arm around her middle once they were on their feet. Molly held the towel around herself with one hand, she had it tucked into itself, but she didn’t want it to fall down. As they were leaving the bathroom, Harry grabbed Molly’s clothes from where she’d folded them on the floor and led her out to his bedroom. “Just have a lie down for a bit.” Harry told her, his arm sliding from around her, though his other one still held onto one of hers as she sat down and swung around, lying back on the perfectly made bed. “I’ll just grab you some water.”

Harry disappeared from the bedroom and Molly made herself more comfortable, making sure she was well covered by the towel before he came back. It felt like two steps back, the bath had been glorious, but she felt worse that she had before thanks to the turn. When Harry came back seconds later with a large pint glass of water she smiled at him, scooting over so he could sit on the edge of the bed beside her.

“Just sip it.” He told her, handing the glass to Molly and taking the seat she’d made for him, as she thanked him . Molly did as she was asked taking a small sip and relishing in the ice cold water running down her throat. Harry watched, eyes scanning over her as if looking for marks or injuries. Of course there were none to find but even then the worried look didn’t run off his face easily. The concern was swimming in his eyes as he looked at Molly and tugged at his bottom lip with bare fingers. “I think you might be more ill than you think.” Harry pointed out.

“I’m fine,” Molly implored, enjoying the cold glass in her hand refreshing her clammy skin. “Just a funny five minutes.” She shrugged.

“You need to go to the doctors.” Harry asserted strongly, wide eyed and serious as he stared at Molly.

“Harry, I am not going all the way home for-”

“I’ll drive you.” Harry interrupted, twisting a little to face Molly properly. One of his legs bent to allow him a proper seat on the bed, his knee leaning on Molly’s leg gently.

“No, no, definitely not.” Molly told him shaking her head.

“Lolly-”

“Harry no, it’s four hours, you are not, I am not going home to the doctors end of conversation.” Molly told him, cutting him off before he could even try and barter with her.

“Loll-”

“Harry-”

“No listen to me.” Harry cut over her shrill annunciation of his name. Molly’s nostrils flared as she fumed, biting her jaw together and waiting for him to try and convince him to let her drive her home. She wouldn’t she knew that. “You are ill, you look exhausted, you sound like you smoke fifty a day, you nearly passed out in my bathroom, you need to see a doctor.” Harry told her, measured and calm.

“No Harry, it’s not happening, I will be fine, and you are not driving me all the way home, so just forget it.” Molly finished and it was Harry’s turn to tighten his jaw and flare his nostrils, clearly dissatisfied with Molly’s response. “You can’t keep doing this.” Molly told him, softening a little.

“I can.” Harry hissed, not dropping Molly’s eyes for a second as he did so.

“Well I’m putting my foot down this time.” Molly told him, not caring for his petulant attitude, or giving into it.

“Can we compromise?” Harry suggested gently.

“Depends.”

“If it gets worse-”

“It won’t.” Molly cut in, and Harry tilted his head at her, unimpressed with her unwillingness to even let him talk.

“If it’s no better by Thursday, you will book a doctors appointment and let me take you home.” Harry bargained pointedly. Molly sighed and fluttered her eyes a little.

“If it’s no better by Thursday, which it will be, I will consider booking an appointment ok?” Molly pledged with honest eyes. Of course she would keep to her word, but she knew she’d be feeling better by tomorrow morning, she was sure of it, so she knew it would never come to that. And all she’d promised was to consider it anyway. There was no way, come hell or high water, Molly intended on letting Harry drive her the four hours home for a doctors appointment.

“Fine.” Harry gave in sinking a little into the bed. His eyes were a little lazy, soft, despite his mild frustration. They made Molly want to grab his arm and pull him up the bed beside her. Of course she didn’t, she just stared into his butter wouldn’t melt gaze and tried not to lose her mind. “I’m gonna go finish dinner, you chill for a minute, take your time, no rush.” Harry smiled lightly standing slowly from the bed and glancing back at Molly, combing his hair back out of his face with long fingers.

“Thank you Harry, for all of this.” Molly told him, the constant feeling that she didn’t tell him enough, and never told him how it made her feel, or how much he meant to her, as present as ever.

“Anything for you Lolly.” Molly’s heart fluttered and sunk at the same time, as Harry offered her a warm smile before striding out of the room. There was no doubt in her mind that when Harry said anything he meant it literally, and she couldn’t help that the idea of that terrified her a little.

A/N Hey guys, hope you like this one as much as I do. Be sure to let me know if you do and what you think. Where do we think it’s going from here!?

If you missed them the instas for the last five chapters are up so be sure to check them out.

As always thanks for all the love on this so far, it really means a lot that you’re all enjoying it so much <3

Have a great weekend, Love I x

#dive #harry styles #harry styles au #harry fic #harry fluff #harry angst #1dff #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #ask me anything #ask box open #talk to me

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lordmartiya · 6 years ago

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lord Martiya’s Lilanette Week 2018/2019 Day 4

@lilanette-week

This one was quite funny to make, especially as I wrote Adrien’s ability for delusions-and has the most awesome Lila scene I’ve written so far, my little attempt to top the Lila of The Grand Deception. Tell me if what she pulls is comparable, ok?

Day 4: Akumatized

After the ball, things had changed drastically in Marinette’s relationships. After taking advantage of the opening provided by their common friend, Lila had done her best to impress her-and had done a good enough job she could have had her way with her, had she not showed more restraint than even Lila herself thought (it had been obvious in hindsight that the Italian girl had really wanted that), impressing Marinette even more in the process. Enough that, before they kissed (and Lila had given her more than enough time to move away), Marinette had proposed they exchanged their hair ribbons.

Now half the school was likely convinced they were dating, something that Marinette would have once been dreading due the chance of Adrien joining the group too… Except she wasn’t minding too much, she had noticed a couple days previously while she and Tikki put up a few pictures of Lila in her room. She had even started talking more smoothly to Adrien and transferred some of the stutter to Lila-especially whenever the fox girl would suddenly come too close with her face.

On the other hand she had been growing a bit irritated with Alya and Nino, as they seemed to have made their mission to keep her from staying alone with Lila and pushing her into Adrien’s arms. And she wasn’t the only one growing irritated, considering the previous day she had seen Lila venting by going to the two guys who had been bullying Nathaniel and Marc over their relationship and tricking them into punching each other’s fist-sure, it had ended any homophobic bullying at their school for the time being, but Lila still had got two guys to shatter their hands.

Thus, given she had a date with Lila planned for after the school, she had decided to confront them on that as soon as they arrived to school before her very irascible love interest got Akumatized again-and of course they were denying everything.

“Guys, I’m not stupid.” Marinette replied.

“But I’m starting to fear they are.” a strangely familiar voice pointed out. Marinette looked to see and, much to her, Alya’s and Nino’s very understandable surprise and shock, they found Rena Rouge. “I mean, they should know that this way they’re far too likely to bring back my superior death-tailed counterpart…”

Just as Marinette registered that “Rena Rouge” had repeated the pun made by the Minefield while Alya wasn’t there but Lila was, a fist suddenly became visible through her and an orange glow dissolved Rena Rouge-and revealed Volpina, wearing Lila’s jacket over her costume.

“What did you say about Rena Rouge and Volpina?!” and of course Alya had to take offense at being called inferior to Volpina.

“I’m saying that Rena Rouge, differently from me, can’t actually play the dizi flute, must remember to tell Ladybug I can give her some lessons.” Volpina replied. “That and, no matter how good she’ll become with the power of illusions, she just isn’t ruthless enough to use it at its fullest-I mean, I doubt she’d even think to use an illusion showing her taking someone hostage like I did.”

“Mmmgrr…”

“But that’s not important right now. What is important, Marinette, is that right now I’ve got the power of illusion and I’m fully in control, and can think of quite a few things to use it for in our date before I call Ladybug and give it up.”

While Marinette tried to guess if this time Volpina was a supervillain or was indeed her Lila with superpowers she saw a familiar mask of light appear before Volpina’s eyes-and her reply was the most awesome thing Marinette had ever seen since her first Miraculous Cure washed over Paris.

“Listen up, a’ stronzo ’ncorvattato, I’m not giving up my plans for the day for your sake, so you’ll better take a day of rest because if you do take away my powers or otherwise interfere with my date I shall scour the world searching for the cheapest copies of the ugliest jewels and pieces of clothing ever made for the Bling-Bling fashion, use them to assemble an outfit so tacky that Adrien Agreste could have his father wrapped around his finger simply by threatening to wear it in public, force you into it, and lock you into a closet with Madame Bourgeois!”

And with that, the light that signaled Papillon talking with an Akumatized villain disappeared while Volpina dusted her hands off, much to the shock of the entire class-both at the threat (because even Chloe could admit her mother was an incredibly nasty person, especially when confronted with a horrible outfit) and the fact it had scared Papillon away.

“Again, Alya, this is why Rena Rouge is inferior: considering half the things I’ve heard about that woman she would never think to make such a threat. Then again, maybe that means she’s a better person.” Volpina continued. Then she turned to Marinette, put a finger under her still open mouth, and asked: “Is this an invitation?”

“Uh? Agh! No! Yes! I mean-! STOP DOING THAT!”

“I just can’t get enough of that. Anyway, still going out with me today?”

“Yes! Yes! My god, that was awesome…”

Volpina smiled… And then the purified Akuma popped out of her left hair ribbon, leaving behind a rather bemused Lila. ____________________________________ As he returned home for the day, Adrien was in a strange mood. On one hand he was happy f0r Marinette and that Lila had turned over a new leaf, but on the other hand he didn’t like that it wasn’t him at Marinette’s side. If he wasn’t already in love with Ladybug he’d swear he was jealous.

“Welcome home, Adrien. How was your day?”

Adrien turned in surprise-his father never came to greet him at the door. That, and he looked strange. Probably some trouble on the job again.

“Just a bit strange-Lila was Akumatized again.” he replied, and feigning to have missed his father’s twitch-he didn’t exactly like Lila, ever since she had admitted her part in the book trouble. “But it was a strange Akumatization, she kept full control and even scared Papillon by threatening to dress him horribly and lock him in a room with Chloe’s mom if he took away her powers.”

“He threatened him with Audrey?! I wouldn’t do that to my worse enemy.”

“She can’t be that bad…”

“She’s worse. Enough I thought Papillon wouldn’t dare to Akumatize her-that’s the whole reason I gave her that second row seat.”

Adrien took a moment to digest the fact his father had dumped Audrey Bourgeois with serial killers and other people that Papillon was too decent and/or intelligent to Akumatize, then continued relating what had happened.

“Anyway, right after that Lila became so happy she accidentally purified the Akuma, and-father? Father?!”

Adrien wondered why did his father just ran and locked himself in his office before activating the security system-it wasn’t like he was Papillon, and even then Lila didn’t have the means to actually enact that threat. Or did she, and his father thought she’d come there believing they had information useful to track him down? After all, they had a book with information on the Miraculouses and Lila had seen it…

What Does the Fox Says

As many of you guys may have noticed, just as Rena Rouge’s design includes nine “tails” (two in the tuxedo-like tails of her costume and the rest in her hair), so Volpina’s design has four (the belt, the side locks and her immense mane of hair)-and given how terrifying Volpina was, a certain someone obviously had to make a pun with the fact one of the Japanese words for “four” sounds like “death”.

Returning with the phrases in Romanesco: this time it translates as “tie-wearing piece of shit” (as many of you guys know, I use “Papillon” rather than “Hawk Moth” because in Italy a “papillon” is the bowtie and allows me to use that pun). I guess that the side effects of Akumatization impaired Lila’s ability to come up with better insults…

#@lilanette-week #Lilanette

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rosietheechidna-roleplay · 4 years ago

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Raptor the Dragon Profile

"Sometimes you just got shut out what other people think and let your heart do the talking!" ~*Basic Info*~

Name: Raptor Ignis Pyron Alignment Raptor's moral's and resolve fall within the Lawful Good alignment. He respects the rules of the area he's in, hates evil and immoral deeds and is quick to speak out against what isn't right, not matter how people view him. Age: 18 Gender: Male Species Raptor is a Winged Regal Dragon from the Hidden Emerald Dimension. His kind is a rare species that share a few similar traits with bats, such as big ears, and are well known for their great loyalty for their loved ones and for taking charge of areas in the Dragon Canyon area of the dimension. Winged Regal Dragons are bulky, fast in the air and wield magical power, based on their attribute. Also, like all Hidden Emerald Dimension inhabitants, they possess impenetrable skin, an indestructible skeleton, and are able to achieve their True Potential through plenty of martial arts training. Physical Appearance

Raptor is three feet and seven inches tall, weighing in at an approximate ninety-five pounds. He has purple fur, yellow skin and muzzle, and emerald green eyes. As a Winged Regal Dragon, Raptor shares common traits with his species such as big, bat-like ears, large, purple wings and a purple tail with yellow spots. Attire

Raptor doesn't wear much clothing, normally being seen in his blue shorts and boots. His upper body is usually bare since he doesn't really like wearing shirts due to his wings being in the way. Personality Raptor's very intelligent and compassionate, being the one who is always willing to listen to another's problems and try to find a solution, even at his own expense. He's very loyal to Team Wonder Warriors and does everything he can to contribute to his allies, even if it means putting his life on the line. Raptor may appear to be fully matured but he's still a baby dragon since Winged Regal Dragons reach adulthood at the age of one hundred. Meaning, he can be emotional sometimes.

Likes

When he's not busy assisting his team, Raptor enjoys discovering new things and learning about the world around him. He often spends time researching different aspects Mobius, both the Hidden Emerald Dimension and the mainworld, such as different natural phenomena, ancient history, and even health science for different species. He also likes to collect ancient artifacts with plenty of historical background and/or sentimental value, like scrolls and old swords. Raptor even has a bit of artistic side, leading to a pleasure in creating different things. He's always trying to practice with his magical abilities to create new attributal spells as well as crafting different potions and medicine. He even loves to bask in the art of cooking. With all of that in mind, Raptor has a lot of different hobbies but it never seems to deter him from spending time from his best friend, as he always likes a nice training session with Rosie whenever the opportunity rises.

Dislikes

Raptor has a pretty rough past and often does not like being reminded of what happened to him when he was a younger child. Because of what happened to him way back then, he tends to be very empathic and hates to see other children abandoned or orphaned, without a family to look after them. He views his family and friends as personal treasures and doesn't like to see any harm befall upon any of them. Backstory Raptor was raised in the Hidden Emerald Dimension, born into a royal family in a mystical mountainous region, primarily run by dragons, known as Dragon Valley. He was quite shy as a young lizard and spent most of his time with his father, King Dracon, and his mother, Queen Taria. His life was pretty normal until his jealous, evil uncle, Mange, barged into his home to steal his father's throne. After a long battle, Dracon was defeated Mange took the throne, resulting in Dracon and Taria being imprisoned and Raptor banished to barren, arid Badlands, seen as useless. Raptor soon found himself all alone, left to die in the desert area, until his cousin, Veloci, who was exploring the area for a travel guide, found him and helped him out of the Badlands. The young dragon was desperate and told Veloci about how his parents were robbed of their throne and how he was cast away to die. Not wanting things to end like this, Veloci took Raptor under her wing, taught him how to fight through Wrestling, Judo, and Kung Fu, as well as introducing him magic. After several months of training, Raptor decided to go back to Dragon Valley, accompanied by Veloci, and face his evil uncle in a final duel to save his family. Thanks to all that he learned from his cousin, Raptor was able to defeat his evil uncle and free his parents, bringing the family back together again and winning back the throne. A few years later, Raptor wanted to step away from Dragon Valley for a while and see the outside world. He left the comforts of his home and traveled to a cool spring near Aura Town, where he met Rosie the Echidna, who was training near the water. Having admired the young, martial artist echidna's dedication and persistence in her practice, Raptor decided to say hello to her and soon the two in locked into a long, pleasant conversation. The two realized they had a lot in common and spent the whole day together, strolling through the town, stopping for sushi and, eventually, spending the night in Rosie's family dojo. The day after, while taking a short flight over a forest region, Raptor spotted Rosie again but this time, instead of a peaceful encounter, she was attacked and ganged up on by members of a rogue dojo. He knew how it felt to be all alone in a troubled situation so he took action immediately and dove into the fight, scaring off the attackers and saving his new friend. He didn't waste any time taking her back to her home and helping her recover, using a healing spell. As much as she and her sister were grateful for the young dragon's help, Rosie felt powerless and began to give lose hope in herself, having gone through many years, beaten by other martial artists and being viewed as the weakest fighter around. Raptor didn't want to leave his new friend in this state so, with the help of Rosie's sisters, he used his magic to jumpstart the energy deep within her body and help her achieve her True Potential. From that day forward, the two have been the best of friends and did almost everything together. Through the following years, Raptor created a giant tower of clouds in the sky to serve as his home, the Sky Tower, above Aura Town so he could remain in close vicinity with Rosie, as well contribute to the area below, using his magic powers to resolve the problems of others. He made sure to maintain his friendship with Rosie and swoops in to visit her, from time to time. The two eventually forged a team together, Team Wonder Warriors, to protect the entire dimension from danger and help all individuals in need. Whatever the situation may be, Raptor always makes sure to offer his assistance to others. ~*Social Info*~ AffIliation Raptor is one of the founding members of a freedom-fighting team of the Hidden Emerald Dimension, known as the Wonder Warriors, led by his best friend, Rosie the Echidna. He is well-appreciated as the main head of intelligence of the group as well as the main source of transportation, being able to carry many passengers on his back while in the air. Relationship Status Raptor is single, not in a relationship with anyone yet. Love Interest Raptor had developed a crush with Sally Acorn after seeing how well she treated her biological niece, and his adopted sister, Vanill the Squirrel. While he was observing the two together, he began to notice the admirable traits of Sally such as her kindness and responsible nature and was even won over when she happily helps Vanill practice her martial arts, being a fighter herself. Raptor had grown feelings for her ever since. ~*Combat Info*~ Powers Pyrokinesis/Cryokinesis (in colder temperatures)

Fire is Raptor's primary attribute under normal conditions, allowing him to breathe powerful fire from his mouth and control flames at will. However, he is also among the few non-Water attribute HED Mobians that can actually change their primary type in accordance to the climate change. When the weather around him grows cold, especially in the winter, his attribute shifts to a Water attribute, giving him the ability to wield ice attacks and gives his techniques a cold touch.

Magical Abilities and Alchemy

While in exile, Raptor has been trained by his cousin, Veloci, in the art of necromancy, giving him the power to use his attribute to cast magic spells for various effects. He can use utilize alchemy, using it to summon many different objects, elements, and even transform certain items into different ones

Enhanced Durability

Raptor is brick tough. Enough said. Having developed enough endurance to put the rest of his family to shame, this dragon can tank viciously powerful blows and still stand back up for more. Unless the attacks have a lot of force behind them or the opponent has enough speed to deal a bunch of successful blows at once, one is going to have a lot of trouble keeping Raptor down.

Skills

Martial Arts Knowledge

As fellow HED Mobians, Veloci definitely made sure to train Raptor in hand-to-hand combat. More specifically, in the art of Doragon Resuringu or Dragon Wrestling, which is basically the equivalent of Shootboxing developed by a clan of dragons in his homeland. It combined the hard-hitting techniques of Muay Thai with that of Wrestling, meaning Raptor knows how to strike and grapple well. This trait only got better when he became friends with Rosie, for he was able to further his fighting skills and learn a few more fighting styles.

Swordsmanship

Martial arts and magic aren’t the only things that Veloci taught Raptor. After many days of practicing with wooden swords, he is also trained in the art of Swordplay. He is highly skilled with a blade and can hold his own in a sword fight.

Experienced Chemist

Raptor is competent and capable of handling many different liquid substances and chemicals in order to make something new. He often combines this skill with his magic to forge many different kinds of potions to aid his allies.

Omnilingualism

Raptor can understand and fluently speak almost any language spoken by mobians and humans, especially Latin which he uses to cast his magic spells.

Weapons/Tools Dragon Sword - A sharp and sturdy sword made from Raptor's magic. It has a solid, silver blade and blue handle, or tang, a red-orange and yellow fire-shaped tang shoulder with a fire-shaped emblem in the middle. Also, when he holds it aloft and says, "By the power of the dragon," his attributal power increases gradually.

Strengths Being a Winged Regal Dragon, Raptor's body is very tanky and tough, making him able to endure attacks very well and sometimes is capable of taking physical blows without even flinching. It takes someone with great strength to be able to damage him. He also possesses a great amount of physical strength, an acute sense of smell and excellent hearing, thanks to his bat-like ears.

Resistance

His attribute allows him to better shrug off plant-based and/or natural energy attacks without a problem, especially with his kind of endurance. When his attribute changes in the winter time, he can, instead, endure pyrokinetic attacks a lot better.

Weaknesses

As a Fire attributer, Raptor is more vulnerable against water and earth attacks, meaning he's more easily harmed by said attributes, When he shifts to a Water attributer from cold climate changes, he's no longer weak to water but is, instead, vulnerable to Plant-based energy, a.k.a. the Forest attribute. Plus, as tough as he is, there’s only so much punishment he’s able to stand at once. If his opponent is able to successfully land blow after blow on him, he’ll eventually start to feel the pressure. Invulnerablities

Raptor doesn't exactly have much in the Invulnerability department, besides a HED Mobian's naturally sturdy and impenetrable body.

Transformations/Forms

Attribute Shift/Winter Form

This is the internal change that happens within Raptor’s very being when the season eventually changes to winter. Upon exposure to the colder climate change, his attribute silently shifts from the Fire Attribute to the Water Attribute. He doesn’t experience a flashy appearance change nor does he feel a sudden energy change in his body but he eventually notices the form shift when his fire attack attacks shifted into cryokinetic ice attacks

Ancient Transformation/War Dragon Form

An ancient power that has blessed onto Raptor’s bloodline, awakened through the power of his sword when he first held it aloft in the Jade Tower, north of the Pyron Kingdom. When he holds his sword up high and lets out spirited battle cry, the energy within the blade shrouds his entire body with a super-hot flame until his appearance changes, marking the shift into his enhanced form: War Dragon Raptor. His fur changes from purple to black, his eyes turn bright red, and two red stripes appear on both ends of his muzzle, hot to the touch. His already high endurance gets a big boost, as well as his strength and speed, and his firepower is drastically enhanced. The intensity of his flames is so great, he can even neutralize the effect of weaker water/ice attacks, taking no damage from them at all! Like all Legend transformations, his form is not completely invulnerable so if he actually happens to take too much damage and can’t fight anymore, it will disappear.

~*Other Information*~

Ideal Voice Portrayals

English: Josh Grelle

Japanese: Tomokazu Seki

Ranking Quotes

S: “WHOA!! I did amazing!!”

A: ROAR!!! Now that’s a real victory!

B: “Haha! Great work!”

C: “Not too bad! I'll take that!”

D: “I guess there's always room for improvement.”

E: “Grah... I can do better than that.”

Theme

Sky Tower Remix v.ll, originally from Pokemon Mystery Dungeon - Red/Blue Rescue Team, was picked for Raptor’s theme as it provides more of a medieval vibe that suits his character, as well as an energetic essence of hope. Plus, the Sky Tower level was the main source of inspiration for Raptor’s own Sky Tower home.

#raptor the dragon #rosietheechidna #sonic rp #martial arts

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