#me trying to plan shit to meet safety building regulations

[ourlittlebear]

(designs a tiny home, frantically, feverishly) I think I need to scale back the big wants and needs for costs and reasons, but also fuck that I want EVERYTHING

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Californian Dream (Pt. 09 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.9 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

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{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

×

Future

For the third time today, you hit Jimmy with the fins as you walk by, pretending you didn't notice. He groans and you bite back a giggle. “If you do that again, I swear I'll fire you.” He sings songs, putting the price tags on the new regulators that got here today.

“You can't fire me. I'm very good at selling stuff.” Putting the fins on its place you turn to look at him.

“The Padawan always becomes stronger than the Master.” Crossing his arms, he squints his eyes. “I taught you everything you know, Lily flower.”

“Yup. And I mastered every single aspect into perfection.” Walking around the store, you make your way back to the counter, letting your hair down, running your fingers through it. “I'm a Jedi by now.”

“You're getting cocky. I think you're spending way too much time with Billy.”

“Well, we're living together and dating so...” You move to stay behind the counter, drumming your fingers on the wooden top. “I'd say that yes, we spend way too much time around each other but I wouldn't change a thing.”

“You're the only couple I know who started living together before even starting to date,” Jimmy says, finishing with the regulators and moving to the new swimsuits, starting to organize them by color and size.

“Yeah, it wasn't the conventional way but it worked, didn't it?” Biting your lip, you try to hold back the smile that always comes whenever you think or talk about Billy. It's been a month since it became official, and things have been going well. Very well. The life you had before is a distant memory you don't even visit it anymore. You're still watching the news here and there, some of your old friends were released and the investigators are getting somewhere. But the truth is that this your life. A real life for a change, where the days aren't pointless, and you do love the friends you have, people with who you don't have to watch your manners or think before saying something. You can laugh out loud and make a mess if you want.

“It did. Look, this is girl stuff, can't you–. These are different sizes but they look the same.”

Rolling your eyes, you walk over him, pushing him away. “They're different, Jimmy. You're clueless.” Looking through the bikinis, you take one off the hook. It's blue and pink, with black symmetrical lines all over it. “I really like this one.”

“It's nice. I bet Billy will like it.” He says in a sassy tone, and you roll your eyes again.

“Alright. Can you put this in the back for me? I'll buy it.” Handing him the piece, you focus on reorganizing everything, paying attention to the clients in case anyone needs help. You're humming a soft song when you feel someone approaching, so you turn on your heels to find a guy walking over the swimsuits. “Hello. Do you need anything?”

His lips break into a bright smile, which you respond with a small polite one. “Yes. I was wondering what tank I should get.”

“It depends. If it's just for recreational purposes, the one with atmospheric air.” You say, finishing with the bikinis and turning to give the guy some attention. “Come, let's check them.” Gesturing, you walk to the other side of the store, almost in the back where the tanks are.

“What's this Nitrox thing?” He asks, stepping closer to the tanks, his hand brushing on your thigh. You move away, but since he didn't seem to notice, you decide not to give it much thought. Probably just an accident.

“That's for long dives. It's a mixture of nitrogen and oxygen.” Shrugging your shoulders, you lay a hand on a nearby tank. “But I assume it'll be just for fun so the atmospheric one will suffice.”

“You know a lot about this stuff.” His smile grows wider, and he gives you a little wink.

It makes you giggle. Is he trying to flirt? “I'm still learning.”

“What about... This one?” Stepping closer, he reaches out for a tank behind your back. You know what he's doing now, so you're quick to step aside before he can pin you against the wall.

Taking a deep breath, you roll your eyes. “Trimix. For depths beyond 130 feet. Which one will you take?”

“I could take two atmospheric tanks if you agree on coming with me for a... Recreational dive?”

“Nah, I don't think so.” He's not planning on buying it, so you make your way back to the counter. “First of all, I don't know how to swim. And second, I have a boyfriend.” Tapping on the counter a few times in a happy rhythm, you focus on the other customers around.

“And why haven't your boyfriend taught you how to swim yet?” He comes to the counter too, leaning on it, making you stand up straighter. “Or... Maybe he can't.” He giggles.

“Oh, he can.” You smirk. “He was a lifeguard during his time in Indiana.” As you speak, you see the man himself, walking closer, an eyebrow raised at the guy talking to you. Biting back a smile at his jealous face, you look at the guy again. “He's amazing, actually. Handsome, strong.” Raising your voice just enough for Billy to hear, you lean on the counter too. “But he's also kind and generous. Honest, trustworthy.”

“Sweetie, nobody is perfect so don't even try to make me believe he is.” The guy chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, no. He's not perfect. Billy has problems with anger and he absolutely hates when guys try hit on me.” The moment you're done speaking, Billy touches the guy's shoulder, strongly pulling him away from the counter. “Hi, baby.” You say, giving Billy a bright smile.

“Billy, my dude.” The guy says, nervously stepping back, hands raised. “Didn't know the girl was with you, man.”

“Now you do, so back the hell off.” His thunder voice gets people's attention, but you don't even bother.

“Alright, alright.” He mutters, walking backward until he's in the middle of the store, where he finally turns around and leaves.

“Let me know if you want the atmospheric air tank!” You shout, laughing a little.

“Seriously, why the hell–” Billy starts, but his words fade when he looks at you.

Shrugging your shoulders, you giggle at his expression, leaning a little closer to him. “What?”

“Of course guys will hit on you.”

“Uhm... Care to explain it or am I supposed to guess?”

“You look good, that's it. And all this friendly act when you're working here. The kind smiles, politeness... Guys are stupid, they'll think you're interested.” When Billy leans over, you don't move away, a smirk coming to your lips when his face gets dangerously close.

“So... Are you calling yourself stupid?” You whisper, taking his bottom lip in between your teeth. Some people are starting, you're sure. They all know Billy around here, but it doesn't bother you.

“I was stupid. Now that I'm with you, I'm the smartest man on Earth.”

“Doesn't make much sense, Billy.”

“Doesn't have to.” He rolls his eyes, lips finally meeting yours.

“Hey, hey!” Jimmy exclaims from somewhere behind you. “You can take this home, alright? Remember rule number one? Not making out in work hours?”

“My work hours were done seven minutes ago so...” You snap, turning on your heels and waving at Jimmy. “See ya at the bonfire.”

“See ya, Lily flower.”

“Bye.” Muttering, you sigh at the name he calls you.

Walking hand in hand with Billy, you wonder when you'll be able to tell them the truth. It's tiring to hold on to this lie. It's the only thing left to open up about. That, and the fact that you're, well, rich. Sitting shotgun, you look at the people walking on the sidewalk, quietly thinking.

“Hey,” Billy calls. “Everything alright? Did that guy–”

“No, no.” You assure him, shaking your head. “If that idiot tried anything you'd know.”

“Then what's wrong?”

“It just sucks that they still think my name is Lily.” Running a hand through your hair, you sigh. “I'm (Y/N). And I'm afraid they'll be mad when I tell the truth about who I am, who my family is. I don't wanna lose them.”

“Princess, you're hiding your identity for a very good reason. They know about the kidnappings, I'm sure they'll understand when you tell them the truth.” Billy lays a hand on your thigh, and you stretch your arm to massage the back of his neck. “They're not like those pricks, they'll understand.”

“I hope so. I'm sick and tired of that Lily flower shit.”

“Yeah, I bet it sucks being named after my car.” He says, a smirk on his lips.

“What?” You breathe out, smiling. “Are you finally letting me name your car?” You basically jump on your seat, leaning over Billy to place kisses all over his cheek and jaw.

“Keep that up I might even let you name our future kids.”

His words make you stop, freezing, slowly moving back to your seat. Kids? Is he joking or something? Does Billy even want kids? And does he want them with you? This was never brought up before. Billy nervously moves in his seat, clearing his throat. “What?” It comes out almost a whisper.

“No, just... It just...”

“It's alright. I don't...” Billy enters the small parking lot beside the building, stoping on his usual spot. “Anyways, we still have to deal with things when I'm allowed home, so...” You step out of the car, a little flustered, walking side by side with him. “Until that happens we can just...”

“Yeah, we can wait until you break the news to your parents, then–”

“Yeah.” You cut him off, taking his hand. “We still have time since neither the police or the investigators seem to be anywhere close. So let's have fun now and talk about the future later.”

“Let's focus on the bonfire for now.”

“Beach party!” You exclaim, giggling when he pokes your side on a ticklish spot.

An hour later, you're at the beach, in a long skirt and blue top, talking about the most stupid things as the huge bonfire sends flames up to the sky. You're seated on a huge beach towel, eating burned marshmallows. The wind is fresh and the sky is still fading into the black for the night. Leaning against Billy, you giggle every time he places a kiss on your shoulder. There are way more people here than planned, but nobody seems to care. The music is loud, but the voices are louder. Over thirty people are either by the fire or playing on the water, and you've never felt this... Carefree. Or happy. The same people your parents despise so much, are now the best people you know. Just a bunch of kids having fun, not thinking too much, not overthinking their manners, or looking at others with judgmental eyes. This is easy, effortless.

“Billy!” Someone calls, waving their hand over the fire. “A little help with these coolers!”

“It's Austin.” He says, and you move a little to let him get up. “Finally some food and drinks.”

“Yeah, I'm thirsty.” You complain, turning your attention to Stacy as Billy walks away. “So. You and Jimmy. When is it happening?”

“Shhh.” She takes a look around before standing up and pulling you with her. “He doesn't make a move, so I'm starting to give up this idea,” she says when you're away from the others, near the deck of a small snack bar which is almost closing.

“You like him, and he likes you. What's missing?” You ask, not sure what else to do to help. Jimmy often comes to you for advice, and you do your best to push him into asking Stacy out. But after three weeks, it hasn't happened yet. But if it was a double date... “Oh! Gosh! It's so damn obvious!”

“What?” She giggles, pinching her eyebrows together.

“Double date. Saturday. Movie theater.” You say, winking at her. “You two are coming and leave the rest to me.”

Giving a little jump, Stacy pulls you into a hug. “You're the best. I can't believe I haven't come up with this idea myself but I'm so thankful you're my friend.”

“I'll get you two together.” Pulling away, you assure her. “It's a promise.”

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” Linking arms with her, you start making your way back to the fire. Your eyes find Billy in a distance, and you're just about to change direction when a girl walks over to him, arms immediately wrapping around his neck, her lips chasing his. You stop in your tracks, freezing, throat suddenly dry. Relief washes over you when Billy pushes her away before she can kiss him, holding both her arms when she tries approaching him again. “The audacity of that bitch.” Stacy mutters, and you nod.

“Why don't you go ahead, I'll... Go there.” Gesturing at the snack bar, you step back.

“Lily...”

“It's alright. I'll just get something to drink.” You know the drinks just got here, but you don't care, you just need some time right now. Turning your back at her, you climb the few wooden steps that lead to the snack bar's small balcony, where some tables give the clients a view of the ocean, holding your skirt so it won't get into your way. When you get to the deck, you walk to the very back, where's dark since half the lights are already off.

You don't know why you're feeling so bad. Billy pushed her away, but still, you're... Angry. Stacy is right, the audacity of that bitch... But if she felt like she could do that, she was one of his many... Flings. And it kills you to imagine them together. Leaning over the wooden railing, you put both hands on your head, the wind messing with your hair.

“Hey, there.” Billy's voice reaches you and, taking a deep breath, you turn around with a half-smile.

“Hey...”

“Stacy told me you saw Amanda grabbing me.” He starts, coming to stand beside you. “You know that–”

“Billy, I saw you pushing her. I'm not mad at you, I'm happy, I just...” Throwing your hands in the air, you sigh, letting them fall. “I just don't like the mental pictures I'm having about the two of you.”

“You're jealous.” He states, and when you look at him, he's trying to hold back a smile. “That's how you cope. You like to be alone. I like punching the guys in the face.”

You didn't want to, but you're chuckling anyways. “Yeah, I kinda noticed that.” Billy comes closer, pinning you against the railing and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“It'll take a while for people to believe I'm actually dating someone this time. But they'll get it, I promise.” He places a soft kiss on your lips. “Even if I have to shove away half the girls of California.”

“You're so cocky, did you know that?” You give him a light push, but you move alongside him, leaving the railing behind. “But it's okay. I just... I hope I won't... End up like one of them. Being pushed away.” With a low voice, you look down, the very thought of it breaking your heart a little.

“When you're falling asleep you have the habit of moving your feet,” Billy says, and the subject is so damn random you raise an eyebrow, staring back at him, shrugging your shoulders. “And you take deep breaths as you relax, and it means you snuggle closer to me every time. And almost every morning you find a way to hook a leg around me so I can stay a little longer.”

“You'll have to help me out here because I don't follow.” Furrowing your eyebrows, you cross your arms.

“I was never that intimate with anyone. And I never wanted to, that's why I never took any girls to my apartment.” Billy softly rubs your arms, and for some reason, your attention falls on the exposed part of his chest. The idiot doesn't seem to know what buttons are for... But you don't care. “But with you, I... I want this. And when the issue with your parents is over we will talk about what will come next and–”

“Oh my God!” Someone from inside the snack bar exclaims, turning the TV volume up. “They got them. The police got them.”

After exchanging a glance with Billy, you both rush inside, eyes on the TV. And yes, the police got them. The journalists show the commotion, an abandoned place, all wrecked, as the criminals are dragged out. And the hostages they still held. Soon enough everyone from the bonfire is here too, silently watching. You're relieved, of course, to know the people you grew up with are being released. But it means you'll have to face your parents, and finally make the changes in your life permanent. With a hand on your heart, you stare at the TV without paying much attention.

“Wanna get out of here?” Billy whispers on your ear, and you nod, following him out of the snack bar.

Guess you'll be talking about the future a lot sooner than you thought.

×

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon @clockworkballerina @infinitelycharmed23 @lilred91

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.21

a/n: things will get better~ <3

warnings: this cannot be read solo

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 20, part 22

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03 @azzie @purple-rabanito​ @meximorrita @awesomeee19​​ @celestial-kanzakii​ @laure-lo​ @team-wang-puppy​ @aydience-world​ @choros-main-hoe​ @colorseeingchick​  @but-kairis-not-that-smart (i cant seem to tag again :( hope this lands in your timelines!)

The silence of the hall was cut by the vibration of your phone. Taking it out, you answered.

“Yes, Nao?”

“The cameras showed the Fukuo Kai members left the building. Save for two people. Overhaul not included.” Inside the tent, Tsukauchi focused on the monitors. Observing and watching as live and recorded footage were being played to make sure the remaining two were to be caught. “I’m assuming you're on the 4th floor. Be careful. Cameras aren’t picking up feed.”

“I know. You said there were two?” Staring at the fresh blood dripping onto the floor, you took a step back when the thick red liquid began to run down the wall. Recalling that sound earlier, the other person was surely on this floor. Somewhere.

“That’s right. It’s your call from here.”

“Any info on their quirks?”

“We’re still digging it up. Apparently, those two men weren’t part of the meeting. If my deductions are right, they were the ones who terrorized our plan.”

Feeling a bit lightheaded, you inhaled and let out a long exhale. The man wasn’t lying entirely when he said it had nothing to do with the Fukuo Kai. Now that you were sure he was not on the same floor, you cursed under your breath.

“Nao. There’s only one person left. Overhaul used his quirk on one of them.” Heading back towards the fire exit, you wiped off the beads of sweat forming on your forehead. Feeling chills run down your spine, the grip on your phone tightened as your hands began to feel tingly. “My adrenaline is going down. We’ll catch the other one… next time.”

“Bring yourself back to safety. We’ll debrief once you're here.”

“See you in a few.”

Ending the call, you shook your head and made your way back to the fire exit. With each step you took, your eyelids seemed to become heavier. Leaning on the wall for support, you saw how your vision was starting to blur. Shutting your eyes close, you reached out for your phone only to stumble to the ground. With a steady growing headache, you activated your quirk.

Giving yourself a self-administered adrenaline pump, your felt control over your body once more. Standing up with effort, your shoulder remained glued to the wall as you took slow and steady steps towards the exit. Taking your phone out, you dialed for Tsukauchi only to flinch as another gunshot echoed through the room. The way your phone just sprung out of your hand and landed with a crack made a small yelp escape your mouth.

Taking your handgun out as you turned around, you were face to face with a man in a suit. Realizing that your phone was long gone by now, reaching base through your earpiece would not be the best option.Squinting your eyes, your blurry vision was not helping one bit. Hopefully, the sudden end to your call would alert your partner.

“Who are you?” Buying time was all you could do for now.

“No one important.” He took a step forward. His face void of any emotion save for the complete focus he has. “The question is, what are cops like you doing? Teaming up with the yakuza? Have you all stooped that low?”

“Says the man who’s ready to pull the trigger. Is it Overhaul you're looking for?” Each second that passed, your headache was evolving into a migraine. Breathing alone was becoming strenuous.

“On the contrary, yes.” He takes another step forward. “He’s been rather difficult to deal with these days.”

“You… You’re not from the F-fukuo Kai.” This was not good, you thought to yourself.

“Don’t strain yourself, love.” Seeing how your eyes widened and body trembled. He let a smirk cross his mouth. With much confidence he closed the gap between your bodies. With one hand, he unzipped your bulletproof vest. “You might be wondering why you can’t move?”

“No shit.” Watching him create invisible circles over your stomach made your heart beat even more rapidly. Thinking that his quirk had something to do with how your body’s motor skills were useless, you hoped that back up was now on it’s way. “This is your quirk, isn’t it?”

“Right you are. I can control a certain portion of a person’s gravity. It also works with force as well. But it’s much more fun.” Slapping your face, you barely felt a thing till you saw how his irises changed colors. The amount of force you received hurt double than it should have. Before your hands could touch him, his irises shifted color once more. “Not fast enough. But that was fun.”

“Why are you after Overhaul? Isn’t that suicide?”

“That man refuses to partner with us. We were more than willing to sponsor but for some shitty reason he turned us down.” He rolled his eyes and took a step back. “Wanna see something fun?”

You flinched at the sound of his gun. Yet the bullet lay suspended in mid air. Knowing where this was going, you tried to gather each ounce of your strength to break through the man’s quirk. With your body trembling from the failed attempt, you cursed under your breath and focused on your own quirk. If his quirk centered on gravity, then maybe yours could regulate your blood flow to show any kind of result.

“Struggling won’t get you anywhere.” He blinked and his irises changed colors.

Regaining control of your body did not save you. Feeling an intense heat pooling on your lower obliques, the burning sensation was enough to let you fall to the ground. Immediately covering the wound, you focused your quirk on that area to stop the bleeding. The pain made you curl into a small ball, your body trembling as your mind remained focused on the bullet’s entry way.

“Guess backup isn’t coming~” Taking his time, he grinned at the sight of slowly forming a puddle of red liquid. “Sucks to be helpless? Hoho~ I see your quirk is preventing blood loss.”

Bending down to squat, he grabbed your hand and flipped you over. Trying to release yourself from his grip, he placed a foot on your right hand and kept a hold of your left. Placing his free hand on your wound, he let out a chuckle. The pain had subsided but you were too aware of what would happen next.

“And here I thought police officers were a force to be reck-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you watched as he went flying all the way to the other end of the room. Simultaneously, the blood he had stopped came oozing out like a small water fountain. Seconds after, you harshly bit on your lip as the pain came back two fold. Putting pressure on the badly bleeding wound, you activated your quirk.

“This.” Despite the ringing in your ears, you knew who owned that voice. “This is why we refused to work with your lot, Ayato. Always causing unnecessary burdens.”

“Well if it isn’t the man I wanted to see.” Ayato stood up, barely keeping his balance. The way he landed was rather painful on his side. “Thought you left already, Overhaul?”

“I did.” He scratched his forehead. Glancing at your bleeding body did not help the situation.

Taking slow steps forward, Ayato focused his sight on the mask wearing man. Blinking a couple of times he felt his blood start to boil. Patting his body, he felt the small bullet on his side. The same red bullet he was supposed to be funding. Meeting Overhaul’s eyes once more, he felt a chill climbing up his spine and enveloping his mind.

“The bullets are nearing its completion..” Overhaul said as he removed his other glove. Moving forward, Ayato couldn’t help but take a step back. The growing anger in Overhaul’s eyes was enough to shrink whatever confidence he had in him. “What’s wrong, Ayato? Not so brave without your quirk?” Patting around his body for his gun, he let out a silent curse when he saw it resting beside Overhaul’s foot. Reaching for a small knife, he assumed a battle stance only to be met with a faint chuckle and a shake of the head. Gritting his teeth, Ayato began to sprint towards the supposed villain. Only to fall to the ground with a thud as a surge of electricity coursed through his body.

“Sorry.” Tsukauchi’s body appeared from behind the fallen man. “Got held up at the entrance.”

“Useless.” Overhaul commented as he watched the unconscious body. Turning around, he went closer to your body. Observing how shallow your breathing was, he caught himself clenching his fists. Caught up in the fight, he had forgotten the main reason why he rushed back to the building.

Before he could do anything, a hand touched his shoulder and shoved him. Stumbling three steps to the side, the same officer who was not fond of him was now administering first aid. Seeing him lift your badly bleeding body made him feel uneasy.

“This is your fault.” The officer's eyes focused on the standing man. “If you weren’t involved in this mess, (l/n) wouldn’t have been injured this bad.”

“For your information, she was already injured when I arrived.” It took a lot of strength not to harm the person in front of him. “Tell me, officer, do you think it would have been a smart move to just barge in?”

“You and your quirk are more than capable of doing something on the spot.” He stood up. A few drops of your blood dripping down his fingertips. “Lend a helping hand? An officer gets injured, and one of the terrorist is gone because of your hot head. That’s why I despise working with your lot. Nothing but  bad news.”

“Captain Iwase.” Tsukauchi butted in. He had just finished cuffing Ayato and handed him over to another officer. “Enough. Let me tend to (y/n) injuries. Your babbling mouth is causing her to bleed out.”

“Look at her.” His index finger pointing at your heavily breathing form. “Do you really think first aid is gonna help? For a bullet wound, that amount is abnormal. If anything, a blood transfusion is what she needs now but I doubt the ambulance would get here in time.”

“Then why don’t you stop complaining and dial 119?”

“Tsukauchi. Are you serious?”

“You may be higher in terms of ranking, but she’s my partner and she will always come first.” Reaching for his personal phone, Tsukauchi tossed it to Iwase. “Now unless you want to keep Overhaul’s hand away from your neck, I suggest you dial emergency hotlines. Now.”

Defeated, Iwase marched off the floor. Making sure to bump shoulders with the tall detective.

“He means well.” Tsukauchi still vouched for the captain as he checked your weak pulse. Carefully lifting your body, he made you lean on the wall. Iwase, despite the rambling, was right. He wasn’t sure what happened but the puddle of thick red liquid was alarming. “What happened?”

“The man you just electrocuted used his quirk on (l/n). He can control gravity to a certain degree. By the time I arrived, your partner was already bleeding and glued to the ground. His hand was covering the entry way so I assume her blood came gushing out like an oil pipe when I attacked him.”

As he relayed the information, Tsukauchi was already wrapping a bandage around your waist. For a moment, his eyes met your dull ones. Looking back at the red patch, he swallowed a bit of his saliva.

“Move over, Tsukauchi.” Overhaul looked down on both your crouching bodies. His eye twitching at the sight of your blood stained bandage. Not wanting to go on his bad side, Tsukauchi stood up and excused himself. Despite Overhaul being the labelled sociopath, he had gained enough respect for him to be trusted. “Can you talk?”

“I’m in a lot… of pain… but I’m fine, Overhaul.” You reassured him. Voice breathy and shaky. “It’s not that bad and I’m already doing my part by regulat-”

“Shut up.” He cut you off and forced your hand away from the wound. Taking a look at his hand, he let out a muffled curse. He was breaking out but the priority of fixing your wound won. Seeing Ayato’s knife, he reached for it and sliced the bandage. The bleeding was still bad and he knew full well that your quirk was no longer doing its function. “As much as I hate to admit it, that asshole officer was right. You need blood transfusion. I can close the wound but i’ll have to overhaul the bullet.”

“I think dying would hurt less.” You managed to chuckle.

“Just shut your mouth and let me overhaul the damn bullet.” Without a warning, his index finger entered the small hole. His eyes darted back to your screaming voice. He had to do this quickly to make sure any more blood loss would stop. Sighing, he leaned in closer. Just enough for you to lay your head on the crook of his neck. Your badly trembling body was not helping the situation.

Luckily, it barely took another push for his fingertip to reach the cold shell. Overhauling it in barely a second, this time he warned you about his exit. Receiving a nod, he felt your shoulders tense. Once his bloody finger was out, his clean hand held on to your wound before closing it completely.

“You’re in for an amount of pain.” At least the wound was closed now. The small whimper that escaped your mouth was the telltale sign that you were near exhaustion. Yet somehow, you managed to grip on to his jacket. “Your wound may be healed bu-”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Be specific.”

“For m-mentioning Ackerm...Ackerman.” With your last ounce of strength, you wrapped your shaky arms around his neck. To which he did not refuse. “You’re b-breaking out.”

“I know. Guess you really aren’t as pure as I thought you were.” He stared at his hives and back at you. Slowly sliding in and out of consciousness. “Such a shame. Then again, each and every person is tainted in their own way.”

“I… I’m sorry about… last time.”

“You should be.” Wrapping his arm under the crook of your knees, he lifted you up. He adjusted his hold to make sure you were comfortable. By now, you had lost consciousness. Failing to hear what he had left to say. “Don’t ever mention Ackerman again. You’re mine and mine alone my guilty pleasure.”

- - - - -

a/n: and the fluff begins :D hope the tension was alright in this scene... took a while to write this tbh xD see yall next week <3 yes Overhaul is still accepting in his waiting list too :)

[cashtonwoah-blog]

Ashton Irwin|Calum Hood//Forgetting Kira

Pairing: You (Y/N) , Calum Hood and Ashton Irwin.

Word count: 3.5k

PART 1

“Yeah” Y/N giggled. “I’m just Y/N” She said, trying to ease the pain in her chest. It felt horrible to look at an attractive man and know he’s disappointed that you’re you. It felt even worse realising that he had just touched your moist sweaty fringe, Y/N cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, you said” Ashton chuckled, making Y/N blush even more. “Don’t sweat it” He smirked.

Sweat it? why had he chosen that word thought Y/n, was he trying to allude to the fact that his large hands were wet due to her stupid wig sweat.  “Anyway” Y/n muttered, shaking the thought of her body fluids clamping the gorgeous Ashton’s hands.  She hadn’t taken the time to notice how attractive he was, because she was still semi paralysed from him catching her without her wig on. He was beautiful with his brunette hair that seem to twirl at the end and broad shoulders.

“So are you excited to meet Kira?” She asked, dreading the words as soon as they had slipped from her parted lips. Kira always had away of stealing her moment, even if it was just a simple conversation with a cute boy.

“Yes! I’m pumped, what about you? Wait why are you here?” Ashton asked, starring at Y/n perplexed. “What?”  Y/n questioned. Ashton had shifted his gaze from Y/n to the vending machine. “Sorry, I just meant” He paused, seeming slightly embarrassed by what he had just said. “I just meant, you’re her stunt double” Ashton revealed, leaving Y/n stomped. “So how come you’re here?” He asked, not breaking eye contact with a pack of skittles.

It felt like a century had past before Y/n replied, it was one of those moments when your mouth had moved, and words were spoken before she could even process them. She hadn’t meet cute boy in ages; she was in too deep.

“Me and Kira have been best friends since the beginning of the show, I go everywhere with her” Y/n smiled.

 Chapter 2:  Assigning Allies

 “Mona! Mona!” Y/n called as she came running into her dressing room, wig in hand. “What?” Mona asked, her clipboard whipping around before even she could turn.

“Kira!” Mona shouted, shocked to see Y/n standing at the door without her wig on.

“I met a boy and you’re going to help me” Y/n demanded.

“huh?” Mona was confused, she had just finished eating her lunch and was about to set out to look for Y/n to tell her the clients had arrived. “I met-“Before Y/n could finish her sentence, she heard Kira’s name being called.

“Kira!” It was her manager Tony running around franticly calling her. Y/n slammed the dressing room door shut locking it, knowing she’d be in big trouble if he saw her moving about without her wig. “Kira” He called, knocking on the door. “Why is this door locked?!” He asked, clearly annoyed by the circumstances.

Mona thinking quickly turned on the shower in the ensuite. “I’m showering” Y/n yelled from inside the room. “Come back later” She stated, hearing Tony sigh before proceeding to walk away. “Are you insane?!” Mona yelled, throwing her clipboard down. “You could get us all fired” She said furiously.

“Look” Y/n sighed, as she slumped her body on a sofa chair. “I wanted a break and I didn’t think anyone would be in the room since-“

“Someone saw you?!” Mona asked, her voice sounding more and more pissed off by the second. “Yes, but-“

“Okay, we need to secure the building. Maybe we can convince him you dyed your hair or convince the public he is mentally deranged-“

“Mona! It’s handled” Y/n had got up from the sofa chair and at this moment she was currently shaking Mona in her arms.

“What do you mean?” Mona asked after the shaking had stopped. “He doesn’t know, I introduced myself as Y/n” Y/n informed her. “Oh, and he thought you were wearing her outfit just for shits and giggles?” She asked sarcastically.  “Of course not, I told him I was Kira stunt double” Y/n said, sitting back down in the sofa chair.

“And he just bought that?”

“Yes” Y/n stated, beginning to play with her fingernails.

“He’s clearly not the smartest” Mona sighed, placing herself on the arm chair of Y/n’s sofa. “Yeah” Y/n sighed in relief.

“So” Mona uttered, placing a hand on Y/n’s arm. “Tell me about this dumb boy you like” Mona joked, as they both giggled.

  Y/n couldn’t believe she had managed to convince Mona to go along with this crazy scheme. She was finally out in public with her messy dirty blonde hair and muddy eyes. She was wearing a crispy white blouse and smart trousers heading to Ashton’s dressing room. “Before I forget” Mona muttered, proceeding to hand Y/n a clip board. “Thank” Y/n muttered. They were standing outside the dressing room door, starring at the sign that said 5 seconds of summer. Y/n hand was shaking as she held it out to knock, all she could think about was how badly Tony was going to kill her.

What if Ashton hadn’t bought her stupid lie?

What if her career was over?

She knocked loudly three times before anyone answered the door, she wondered if she had made a mistake and Ashton taking so long to answer was a sign that she shouldn’t have come there. When the door finally opened, Y/n was relieved that was until the man behind the door was revealed to be a blonde boy.

“Hello?” The boy answered, checking Mona and Y/n out in complete confusion. “Can I help you?” He asked.

“We’re apart of Kira’s team” Mona replied, pushing the tall blonde boy aside as he starred at her in complete amazement. “We’re just going over the rules and regulations for yours and Kira’s safety before you meet her” She expanded. Y/n followed her suit only to be stopped short at the sight of two other boys and Ashton. She wanted to jump in joy that her plan to see him again had worked, but instead she choose to look at the blonde boy who still hadn’t recovered from Mona’s push.

“Kira is a private person” Mona explained, to the dark-haired boy fiddling with a guitar and the other blonde in snapback. The looked completely dumbfounded at how a petite black girl had forced her way into the dressing room.

 “So it’s really happening?” The blonde boy in a snapback proclaimed. “We’re going to meet Kira!” He said excitedly.

“Uh yes sir” Mona replied, shooting me a look as if to say are all these lads slow. “I’m Mona, Kira’s assistant and this is-“ She gestured towards me. “Y/n” Her and Ashton spoke at the same time. This was the first Ashton had noticed her since she entered the room, as he had been sat at the back on his phone when they entered.

“So what we doing Y/n?” He said smiling as he placed his phone down on the table beside him. “You know each other?” The blonde boy who had answered the door asked, as he sat down on a sofa chair joining the dark-haired boy and other blonde.  Y/n noticed that all the boys’ eyes were on her inspecting her almost like she was lice.

“Yeah, we met in the breakroom” He explained. “I’m Ashton by the way” He said, waving at Mona.

Mona smirked, before muttering “Dumb boy” under her breath. “What was that?” The dark hair boy asked in confusion. “Oh sorry, I just haven’t heard that name before… is it Greek?”

“Greek?” The dark hair boy asked, wondering about the petite girls braincells.

“Greek?!” The two blonde boys chuckled.

Mona cheeks turned rosy. “No” Ashton smiled, shaking his head in amusement.

“I’m Calum” The midnight hair boy said, trying to hush the two boys who’s laughs had now turned to sniggering. “The idiot in the blue shirt is Luke” He said pointing at the boy in the sofa chair. “And this is Michael” gesturing to the snapback wearing blonde beside him.  “So where do we start?” He asked enthusiastic. “The sooner I can meet Kira the better” Calum said eagerly, placing the guitar on the sofa.

“Great” Mona clapped. “We just have small survey for you to take, takes ten minutes tops” She briefed, “So we split up in twos, Calum with me and Ashton with Y/n” She ordered. “You two can wait” She said, shooting Michael and Luke dirty looks.

Y/n wondered over to Ashton sitting herself across from him “So did you miss me?” She flirted, she didn’t know how she had become so confident but today she was breaking all the rules. “What” Ashton giggled. “I only saw you couple minutes ago” He grinned.

“right” Y/n smiled nervously.

“So what’s the first question?” He asked.

“What’s the first thing you notice in an individual?” She asked.

“What?”

“Kira cares a lot about how people view her” She explained.

“Right.. well, I’d guess I would say their body language”

“Their body language?” Y/n intrigued.

“stance can say a lot about a person” He said. “Like if a person stands legs shoulder width apart, than they’re showing the world they’re ready for anything.” He leaned across the table closer to her. “If her heads tilts slightly down, it shows she’s vulnerable” Y/n head coward into her blouse. “If stares at you wide eyed she wants to know” Y/n eyes beamed at Ashton, as her body leaned towards him. “ If She plays footsie, then she likes you” Y/n ran her heels up Ashton’s thigh.  

Ashton leaned back into his chair “Are you okay?” He asked, moving his foot back. “Do you need more leg room?” He said as he shifted his chair.

“Sorry” Y/n cleared her throat, moving her chair back as well.

“Anyway, my point is Kira embodies all of these things and that’s all I am man could ask for in a woman.” Ashton said, he gazed at his phone in a trance which Y/n knew too well.

Kira’s love trance.

“Kira is just so unique” Ashton daydreamed. “It must be so hard to be her stunt double, I don’t think anyone can be Kira other than Kira” Ashton said, making Y/n burn with envy.

“Well I was only her stunt double for the live action trailer” She clarified. “There rest of the show is animated” She said, bitterly.  Ashton words had flared up all Y/ns old insecurities of never being good enough as herself.

“Right” He amused. “So how were you and her friends since the start of the show?” He asked confused.

Y/n knew she had messed up. “She was the stunt double that the animator drew Kira’s fighting moves from” Mona had been eavesdropping on the conversations and saving Y/n.

Y/n made the mental note to thank Mona for an eternity after this was over. “You’re Kira’s stunt double” Calum said amazed by this new-found information. “Do you know if she still has the dreamers necklace from the dream catcher world?” Calum asked, curiously.

He had jump over the sofa to be closer to Y/n as she answered, he reminded her of nosy kid. “Forget that” announced Michael, turning himself over to face her to. “Do have any news about season two? Is Rob getting out of galactic prison?” He asked.

“Is the Sirius universe really gone?”

“That necklace it was important to Kira, she would have kept it” Calum stated.

“are moon rocks really poisonous?”

“The necklace had special power..”

“Is the mars queen coming back?” Michael asked.

In the middle of being over bombarded with questions, Y/n remembered how it felt to be Kira and she hated it. She looked at Luke wondering why he had remained silent in all this.

It was as if Luke had read her mind.

“I’m not a huge fan, I mean I’ll watch it but I don’t need to talk about everyday” Luke said.

“No one cares Luke!” Michael shouted, slapping the back of Luke’s head.

“Don’t waste her time” Calum stated, still waiting for Y/n to speak.

“I think it’s time for your meeting with Kira” Y/n broadcasted.

“But me and Luke haven’t been surveyed yet” Michael declared.

“And you only asked me one question” informed Ashton.

“There’s only one question on the survey” Y/n lied.

“Really?”

“What is it?” asked Luke.

Mona and Y/n spoke at the same time. “What’s the first thing you see in a person?..”

“What does privacy mean to you?”

“It’s what?” Asked Michael.

The girls asked each other’s questions instead.

“huh?” Calum mumbled.

“We need to rework our survey” Mona said grabbing Y/n. “Kira will be out soon” She said, dragging Y/ns body out of the room.

 Chapter 3: Kira’s illusion

“You’re kidding right? You’re smoking” Ashton proclaimed, taking chug of his beer. Y/n smiled uneasily, Ashton obsession with Kira had been bittersweet. One hand she loved that he liked her, but on the other hand she couldn’t help but keep reminding herself that he loved Kira not her.

Her, Ashton, Luke and Calum had decided to go for drinks at Luke’s apartment after the fan meeting. Luke had staggered into his bedroom after couple shots saying hushed ‘goodnight’ a mere two hours ago.  Y/n had grown to like the boys, particularly Ashton and after Michael invited her over she swung at the opportunity.

On the other side of the coffee table, Calum whispered something into Michael ear which the blonde boy rolled his eyes at. “Do you still have the wet dreams necklace from the nightmare planet?” Michael sighed.

“The dreamer’s necklace” Calum corrected, his face quickly turning after meeting Y/n eyes.

“Whatever” Michael mouthed. “Do you have it?” He asked.

“The show is animated” Y/n further illustrated, it seemed that after the live-action trailer a couple months ago people had completely lost the plot of the series.

Michael glared at Calum, who was now burying himself in Luke’s fluffy white pillows. “But..” Calum blurted out, as he sat up again. “I read an article that there was replica made because Adam Davies loved the idea of it so much” Calum clarified.

Y/n took a sip of her white wine spritzer. “I guess, anyway” she waved her hand dismissing Calum. “I love your new song blindfold me, is there a personal inspiration behind it?” She asked, scanning Ashton for a reaction. “a muse perhaps?” She beamed, taking another sip.

“Actually..” Calum began to talk.

“I want to hear from Ashton” Kira slurred, making her drunkenness obvious. “You know” She hiccupped.  “since the track really capture his essences” She stumbled.

“But Calum wrote it” Michael huffed.

“Did he write it with Ashton in mind” Y/n said, not breaking eye contact with Ashton. Ashton giggled as the two other boys rolled their eyes.

“I’m going for a smoke” Calum told them, as he stood up to leave. “I think I’ll join you” Michael muttered, leaving Ashton and Y/n alone.

“Would like to go out sometime?” Ashton asked once the two where alone.

“Yes!” Y/n cheered throwing her hands in the air. “I mean that’s sounds good” Y/n quickly regained her composure trying to act as nonchalant has she possibly could. “Great” Ashton grinned, “I really like you Kira” He confessed.

Y/n sighed, turning herself away from Ashton. “I mean it Kira” He said, his hand reaching out and grazing her thigh. “I know you probably hear this all the time, but I’ve never met a girl like you. You’re so beautiful and badass” He professed, continuing to stroke her thigh.

“You know I’m not my character, right?” Y/n questioned.

“I know” Ashton giggled. “It’s just that you remind me of her so much. I’m sure the writer must of based her on you” He flirted. Y/n knew that she had heard those words from countless guys before, but her heart fluttered when Ashton said it. Maybe Kira hadn’t stole anything from her? Maybe she was Kira? Maybe Adam had written the character with her in mind. She wanted to say that and show Ashton all the inner workings of her badass personality, but instead…

“The most badass thing I ever did was steal a crayon” Y/n spilled.

“What?!” Ashton sniggered. “You’re telling me as the girl that slays ten-foot-tall snakes every week, the most badass moment of your entire existence is stealing a tiny Crayola crayon” He chortled, choking on his beer as he laughed.

“I had sheltered childhood” She admitted.

“Oh no Kira, you’ve let me down” He giggled. Y/n felt slightly disappointed even if Ashton was joking. She was embarrassed that she had talked about stealing crayon rather than the first time she held a snake, but she didn’t want to admit that one of the two options had made cry in guilt for weeks.

“What about you then?” Kira asked as she fingered her skirt. “What’s the most badass thing you have done?”

“Well I’m not sure how I’m going to top you stealing a crayon” Ashton kidded. “I don’t know” He sighed. “When I was a kid we lived next to this motor cyclist gang leader..” He began.

“Oooh” Y/n jeered.

“Yeah it was pretty cool” He added. “We used to have like whistle battles”

“Wait” Y/n giggled. “Your badass moment is living next to motor cyclist?” She asked.

“Gang leader” Ashton corrected smiling.

“Or is it whistle battles?” Y/n clowned, nudging Ashton’s arm slightly as the both laughed heartedly.

“Hey! Whistle battles are awesome” Ashton defended.

“I wouldn’t know” Y/n admitted, “I don’t know how to whistle” She confessed.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah”

“How?” Ashton inquired.

“I guess I was never taught” Y/n professed.

“Okay, so you go like this” Ashton instructed, parting his lips in an ‘O’ shape. “Then you just” His lips twitched slightly as the whistle tone came out.

“I’ll try” Y/n followed his instructions, but all that came out was a muffled almost inaudible breathy noise.

“I can’t do it” She sighed.

“Come on” Ashton lifted her chin up. “Try again” He said, once again showing Y/n how it was performed. Only this time Ashton whistle a whole tune and Y/n just puffed.

“Ugh” She groaned. “I guess I’ll keep practicing”

“Practice makes perfect” They both giggled. Y/n looked at her empty wine glass sighing in content.

“I guess I should get going” Y/n said, getting up. “ Its getting quite late” She explained.

“Right, let me give you my number” Standing up as well.

“Here” Y/n passed her phone over to him as she scanned the room. Beer cans, half drank glasses and an empty wine bottle, Luke would surely have to do some cleaning tomorrow she thought.

“There you go” Ashton passed her phone to her. “I’ll text you tomorrow to schedule our date” He said, walking her to the door.

“Looking forward to it”

“Goodnight” Ashton said, kissing her cheek before opening the door.

“Goodnight” Y/n replied, her whole face beaming.

“Leaving so soon?” Calum asked, as he leant against the garage door smoking.

“Yeah, it’s getting late” Y/n informed, feeling her eyes get heavy. Stepping outside had made the alcohol hit her faster and Y/n could feel the warm embrace of tipsiness engulfing her.

“How you are getting home?” Michael asked from the paved path he was sat on.

“Shit” Y/n muttered. “Fuck” She cussed more loudly this time, as she placed her palm against her forehead as though the question had knocked her.

The boys laughed between themselves. “We’ll order you an uber” Calum stated.

 Mona stared at Y/n in complete heartbreak like she was a sad little puppy that had just fallen in front of her.

“What?!” Y/n asked, completely fed up with the pity looks.

“It’s just that you never spoke about you” Mona informed.

“We flirted, he taught me how to whistle and I told him how I stole a crayon” Y/n defended.

“He taught you how to whistle for ten seconds hun, not to mention you still can’t whistle” Mona said sadly.

“But..”

“Y/n.. you told him how you stole a crayon, not some deep profound secret” Mona retaliated.

“We haven’t had our first date yet, I’m not telling him my secrets” Y/n explained, defensively.

“That’s another thing, you told him as Kira and the first he did after you mention something real about you is bring up Kira” Mona informed.

“I am Kira!”

“But you don’t want to be” Mona said. “Isn’t that why you took interested in this boy in the first place, because he saw you as Y/n?” She probed.

“And he still does” Y/n lied.

“Are you sure? Because it sounds like he has just won himself a date with Kira” Mona poked.

The illusion was shattered, the dream of Ashton and Y/n was gone, and she was hurt broken. Tears filled Y/n’s eyes, but she would not all Mona to see them.

“What do I do?” She pleaded.

“You need to bring Y/n to the date” Mona explained, smirking at Y/n’s face through the lens.

Masterlist

[diegest]

Day 5 with Atticus

We had a weirdly scheduled day and I guess this is gonna be our Wednesday routine from now on. I had a meeting at 9am so we had to leave by 8:30am to go by my shelter and get my client files so I could review their progress with the director for possible extensions. So I was up by 7, getting dressed at 7:30, took him out at 8, quickly packed his food and stuff, and we were off.

I strictly feed him at 9am and give him 30-45 minutes to eat for regulation and thankfully my boss was cool with me feeding him in her office. Her dog, Hank, was there too and he’s such a good old boy. He was actually present during my job interview and I firmly believe his presence helped me get my job ☺️

Everything was going well until Atticus decided to pee in her office 😂 I brought my enzyme spray so it was a super easy cleanup and thankfully my boss/director laughed about it. I was in the meeting for 2-2.5 hours or so before he and I headed to my shelter.

Today was almost as busy as yesterday. I spent the first hour or two organizing client files, creating goal lists for the remainder of the week, printing out important documents, relaying info to my coworkers about what we have to do in only a few days by working together, and taking hotlines. We had a house meeting to remind them about what communal living entails, quiet hours, chore lists, action plans that need to be done with me, watching your own kid(s), and picking up after yourself. The dynamic in the shelter is really good right now for the most part and everyone seemed really receptive.

Untilllll my lower functioning teenager had a meltdown on his mother. I sent her away so I could help him decompress. I ended up being at work for almost 2 hours longer than I needed to be because of this. The trade off is that I’m hopefully gonna get off work early Friday. Fuckin’ mint. 🤙🏻

We left as soon as I talked to his mother for a while and asked how she was. Gave her a few affirmations for standing her ground and such. Told her about how he deescalated when we began to talk about Minecraft, Megaman, and Mario (ha, three M’s). Encouraged her to take him to the library tomorrow and use their WiFi so he could download some Skyrim skins in Minecraft and show me. I also ended up drawing and coloring with him and this ABSOLUTELY adorable 3 year-old I got in shelter yesterday. He’s a fuckin’ cutie omg.

Attaboy and I went home together. Took him to the backyard to play for a while. Then I pissed him off by having to crate him for a while so I could build and install a baby gate to my home office door so he can’t get in but Ivy can still access her food and stuff.

After that I made some amazing sweet chili-glazed chicken over rice with roasted carrots on the side using some Hello Fresh sorta-like service my mom wanted me to try. It turned out amazing and I’m so full from it 😋❤️ Attaboy fell asleep next to my shoes while I was cooking because of course he did lol

After I ate I took him outside and we played HARD for 20-25 minutes. We ran around together and then played with a pull-rope inside before I put him to bed. He only whined for about 10 minutes and is currently OUT. This kid can sleep all day when not finding something random to try to chew on, receiving lovins’ from others or myself, and attacking piles of leaves outside.

He did so well today. He adapted to the odd schedule super well, did great on the car ride home (to work, not so much), played rough, and I STILL have yet to clean up dog shit. This little boy already knows not to do it inside of buildings and I’m seriously so fucking happy about it hahaha

Things are getting better and I’m giving him just a bit more freedom every day. He’s still not great with his harness and tries to bite it, loves to try to bite his leash, is NOT good when I have to crate him to do something for myself or for his own safety, and I’m still struggling to have him eat more than 1/2 cup of food at a time. He fell asleep in my arms during our house meeting today and I love how normal it is for us to be seen together now to my clients. “Micah and Atticus are in the office.” “Micah and Atticus are outside.” It’s so cute to me haha

Overall, today was a super super productive day! Now to get Ivy to understand that she has to jump over the baby gate and she can’t go under it or whatever. She’ll get it eventually. Just not tonight I guess, heh.

[thfrustration]

Crossing Knives, Chapter 9: Cake, canoodling, cocktails and confusion

TITLE OF STORY: Crossing Knives CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 8 AUTHOR: missviolethunter / missviolethunterwrites WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: AU Tom / Chef Tom GENRE: Romance, Comedy FIC SUMMARY: Tom Hiddleston is the brilliant executive chef of Band of Brothers, a London restaurant with a Michelin star. He also has a reputation for being arrogant, cocky and difficult. Hallie Harrison is a former home cook who has just won Masterchef US. Luke Windsor is a restaurateur who is tired of constantly looking for new sous-chefs because Tom keeps making them quit. In a desperate move to save his restaurant, Luke offers Hallie a job as a sous-chef… and maybe also a chance to meet the man of her dreams in the least likely of places: the kitchen of Band of Brothers. RATING: Explicit WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Links to previous chapters: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8

Chapter 9: Cake, canoodling, cocktails and confusion

Every Sunday, exactly at 9pm, a traffic control helicopter flew over the City of London, checking that the peace of the night wasn’t disrupted by a sudden accident or –almost worse– an unexpected traffic jam.

Every Sunday, at 9:03 pm, it flew over the Barbican towers. Three perfectly grey, elegant, monolithic statues raising towards the sky. Of course, the people on board the helicopter didn’t stop to wax poetic about the brutalist buildings. Sometimes one of them looked down and noticed if the lights on the penthouses were lit or not; but, like good Londoners, they didn’t care much about other people’s lives, not even if those other people were rich sods who lived in super expensive luxury flats on top of an architectural wonder.

If they had bothered to look towards Shakespeare Tower (and carry a pair of binoculars) on that particular Sunday, they would have seen a man standing on the balcony of the 42nd floor. A tall blond man, holding a bottle of beer and looking supremely depressed.

Tom emptied the rest of the bottle in one long swig, while his confused brain tried to make some sense of what had happened after dinner. It all started so well, he thought. Second date with Hallie, a home cooked dinner, some jazz music… The modus operandi had been the same he’d used in countless other dates, only this time he was really interested in what his date had to say. At least until she had bolted out, of course. He stood up and staggered towards the sofa, replaying the dinner over and over in his head and wondering what the hell he’d done to make a carefully planned night go to shit.

In fact, the dinner part had been incredible. He made sure to cook his best for the occasion, and Chef Hiddleston’s best was always a culinary experience to remember. The oysters in the appetizer were poached to perfection in his favorite Riesling wine; the second course, a rack of lamb many restaurants would be proud to display on their menus, accompanied by a rainbow of the tiniest vegetables he could find. As for dessert, Hallie had brought a glorious raspberry and white chocolate cake decorated with many infinitesimal pieces of gold leaf. His mouth watered when he saw it; well, in fact his mouth had started watering just before, when he had opened the door and seen his guest arrive in a spectacular blue dress.

No, he was sure nothing wrong had happened during dinner… so it must had been after coffee, when he had taken Hallie to the balcony to admire the view.

“I think you can see my flat from here”, Hallie said, squinting in the direction of the Golden Lane Estate. “There! On the corner of that building, the one with the lights up. It’s so tiny from here!”

Tom nodded and got a bit closer to her, trying to identify the dot of light many floors below.

“Your mother must be up waiting for you.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I told her not to wait up in case I…” she stopped herself and blushed a bright shade of pink. “I mean, I’m a big girl, it’s not like she’s keeping tabs on me or anything.”

Tom bit his lip in silence, smiling. He had been looking for a subtle way to invite Hallie to spend the night, and now he knew she was at least considering it.

“Would you like to go back inside? It’s starting to get chilly.”

She nodded. The truth was, early October in London could indeed be quite cold, especially at four hundred feet above ground. She sat on the sofa and took a sip of her wine while Tom managed the music. Her personal tastes turned more towards Broadway than jazz, but nevertheless she closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the song transport her for a moment.

“Earth to Hallie.”

“Oh God, sorry! I always close my eyes when I’m enjoying good music, or good food. One of those silly things one does sometimes.”

Tom sat beside her on the sofa. “It’s alright. But right now I think I prefer to enjoy the moment with my eyes open. You look stunning tonight, Hallie.”

“But it’s just me”, she answered with a smile. “The same woman that looks a mess every day after eight hours in the kitchen.”

“If it wasn’t for the health and safety regulations, I’d ask you to wear that dress to work every day. You’d be the most attractive chef in any London kitchen.”

“What, this old thing? It’s really nothing special.”

Tom slid his hand over hers and looked Hallie right in the eye.

“Then maybe it’s the person inside of the dress who’s special.”

Not having a lot of dating experience, Hallie didn’t know what to say next, so she let her instinct take charge. And her instinct, that dormant and neglected part of herself, told her to do what every young woman sitting next to a very attractive man would do in her situation: she kissed him.

Forgetting her initial shyness, Hallie clasped her hands around Tom’s shoulders and allowed him to take command of the kiss. She reveled in the sensation, in the intensity of his mouth closing over hers, in the skilled way one of his hands slid over her neck and the other inched towards her thigh…

“Hallie.”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re doing it again, love… look at me, please.”

She opened her eyes. Tom was close, so close it was almost overwhelming, but she made a mental effort and told herself to keep her eyes on him no matter what.

“Sorry. I told you, when I’m feeling good I just don’t need to see.”

“Oh, but I do”, answered Tom, caressing her blond hair. “I need you to look at me, Hallie, because I fell for those eyes the moment you stepped into my kitchen. Don’t close them, stay with me.”

His lips began to inch their way down Hallie’s neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Slow but steady, with fleeting touches along her skin that made her moan and sigh aloud more than once. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the bedroom door in the distance, and she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like after so long. To be in bed with someone again, to let him explore her body, let him see her naked…

Tom could feel the exact moment when the girl froze in his arms. She stared at some unspecific point in space, and her lower lip quivered as if she was about to burst into tears.

“Hallie, darling, are you alright?”

No answer, but one of her hands flew to grab hem of her dress and move Tom’s hand away from her leg.

“Hallie, please, what’s wrong?” he tried again.

“I can’t do this.”

Tom frowned and moved away a couple of inches. “Fine. We don’t have to do anything, but I need you to tell me if I’ve done something wrong.”

“No! No, please, it’s been wonderful, it’s just… I can’t let you see me… I mean…I just can’t!”

She shot up from the sofa and grabbed her purse and coat from the chair she’d left them on. “Tom, please, I’m so sorry, I need to go home right now. This was all a mistake.”

Alarmed, Tom searched in his mind at top speed, looking for the precise words to keep the bewildered woman from running away. “Hallie, if you think this is going too fast, we can talk about it. We’ll wait until you’re ready, but please don’t leave like this.”

She stopped in her tracks for a second to look back at him, her breathing agitated and the hand that held her purse visibly shaking. “Oh, Tom, you shouldn’t have asked me out. I’m a mess, I will bring you nothing but bad luck, and…”

Tom approached the anxious girl slowly, stopping at a distance to avoid scaring her.

“Bad luck? Hallie, you’ve been the best thing that’s happened to me in months. Just ask Luke!” He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to make sense of the situation. “Listen, why don’t you go home and rest? I’ll wait for your call tomorrow, or we can talk on Tuesday when we go back to work. I’ll walk you to your place if you want–”

“No, please, there’s no need. It’s two minutes away.” She slung her coat over her arm, without pausing to put it on. “I have to get out of here, Tom… I’m sorry. I will… I mean, we’ll talk at work.”

And, just like that, she left.

Tom barely had time to walk her to the door and hold it open for her. He heard the sound of heels down the corridor, slowly at first and then picking up a running pace halfway to the lift. When he realized he was staring at the closed door of his flat like an idiot he returned to the living room balcony and looked down, waiting to see her small figure in the distance emerge from the tower and run towards Goswell Road, into the Golden Lane Estate… and away from him.

Confused, frustrated, and frankly angry at the Universe that would put such a woman in his life only to yank her away from him in the worst possible moment, Tom grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, took his shoes off and sat on the cold concrete of the terrace hoping that the cold air of the night would clear his mind.

Women were the bloody devil, and damned be the poor sod who tried to understand them.

Meanwhile, at Hallie’s flat, Lorraine had just put her grandson to sleep and turned on the telly. She had missed British TV a lot during her years in California, especially Coronation Street.

When she heard a key turning in the lock she looked at her watch, surprised.

“Hallie? Is that you, sweet pea?”

“Yes.”

The unusually short and deflated answer was a red flag, and she followed her daughter’s steps towards the bedroom, where Hallie had let herself fall face down on the bed, not even bothering with taking off her pumps.

“My powers of deduction tell me that your date wasn’t exactly as you expected”, she started in a sympathetic tone. “I’ll make you a cuppa and we can talk about it if you want.”

Hallie turned around to face her mother. “I don’t want tea. I… Oh, Mom, I feel like a complete idiot!”

Lorraine frowned. “Did he behave like a pig? Because if he did I can go over there and kick his arse, you know. He may be a chef and everything but I was captain of my lacrosse team for three years when I was in college.”

The joke failed to get a smile out of Hallie. She sat up on the bed and hid her face behind her hands.

“He was perfectly lovely all the time. No, Mom, I was the one who ruined it by panicking and running away.”

“Hmmm. Maybe things were going too fast? It’s not something mothers usually tell their daughters, but… sweetheart, you can’t go from zero to one hundred in two dates, especially when you’ve been living the life of a cloistered nun for years.”

Another attempt at humor, another nonplussed look from Hallie, and Lorraine decided to stop trying with the jokes.

“I wanted it to go fast this time”, said Hallie in a whisper. “At least until I realized that if I spent the night with Tom he… he would see my c-section scar and he would start asking questions.”

Lorraine’s face turned dead serious.”You haven’t told him about Max.”

“I didn’t know how to tell him. Or what he would think of me if I–”

“Stop”, interrupted her mother. “Now I’m ordering you to come to the kitchen, drink some tea and have a piece chocolate or two. I won’t allow my daughter to fall into a mental loop of self-deprecation.”

She motioned for Hallie to follow her into the kitchen.

“I can’t help thinking it’s my fault”, she said with a sigh. “I should have encouraged you to start dating much sooner.”

She adjusted her glasses over her nose and, seeing that Hallie was sulking in silence, continued:

“Baby girl, you shouldn’t be ashamed of what your body looks like. I have a scar myself… they had to cut me up twice, one for your brother and the other for you. You were incredibly cute babies, but God knows both of you had big heads.”

Third time is the charm, and Hallie finally laughed.

“I never lost the weight I gained when I had Max, either.”

“Bollocks. A few pounds won’t scare a good man; Tom asked you out knowing perfectly what you look like, right?”

Hallie nodded.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Hallie. A girl who’s had her life on pause for a few years… but you’re only twenty-seven! Go out, date men, have fun! You deserve all that, and I’m here to help you with Max as long as you need me.”

Hallie opened her mouth to answer, but several loud chimes coming from her phone at an alarming pace interrupted her. She read the messages out loud.

“It’s Harrington Craig… oh, and more messages from his sister Georgiana. Both of them reminding me that his birthday party has just began and that I’m invited if I feel like dropping by.”

“Maybe you should go and mingle a little bit. It’s barely nine and you need some cheering up. Where does this Harrington live, again?”

“Saint Katharine’s Docks.”

Lorraine let out a long whistle. “Wow, posh! You should go even if it’s just to see what his place looks like. You can make some new friends, maybe meet a man or two…”

“Mom, I’m with Tom! That is, if he still wants me back after today.”

“And that’s what I was talking about”, retorted her mother. “Two dates and you’re already building a wall around yourself. You must get it from your father’s side of the family… anyway, I think it will be good for you to have a little harmless fun. Tomorrow you can call Tom and explain everything, I’m sure he’ll understand. Now get your things, I’ll call you a cab.”

Hallie started looking for her coat, forgetting that she had left it on her bed. “Mom, are you sure you don’t want me to stay? We can watch a few episodes of Blackadder together, like we did last Sunday.”

“Absolutely not! I have to catch up on Corrie, I’m three episodes behind. Remember, don’t take a minicab after the party, I’ve never trusted those. Or an Uber, I’ve been reading some shitty things about them.”

“Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll make sure to take a black cab”, said Hallie, making her way to the door.

“And take a picture or two of the flat, I’ve always wanted to see how the rich pillocks in Saint Katharine’s Docks live!”

“Mom!”

“Joking, sweetheart. Now, off you trot!”

When Hallie arrived, the party was in full swing.

Although maybe swing wouldn’t be the right word to describe it. If a musical metaphor was absolutely necessary, it would be more like a session of cool, classic jazz.

Harrington had opened the door with a surprised smile and holding a Martini glass. Apparently the host was in charge of cocktails, and he enjoyed putting his little personal touches in them: an unusual mix of berries in a gin and tonic, or a surprising touch of chocolate in a mint mojito.

“Hallie! I didn’t think you would make it, thank you so much for coming”, he said, taking her coat and signaling around the room. “Welcome to what my sister Georgie calls my bachelor pad. I have to warn you that I haven’t done a lot of entertaining here, so my party skills are a bit rusty.”

Everything in the flat looked modern and sophisticated. The tall windows that looked over the river, the soft grays and beiges of the curtains and furniture… even the guests, wearing so much black that Hallie wondered for a second if it was a beatnik party and if she should have come wearing a costume.

She’d barely had time to tell Harry how lovely his flat looked, when the tall figure of Georgiana emerged from the kitchen. She had changed the tweed trousers for a deceitfully simple (and probably very expensive) charcoal dress with no jewelry, and there was an entourage of young men around her, ready to anticipate her every need.

“Oh, look who’s here! Hallie, darling, it’s so wonderful of you to come! You look absolutely adorable. Come, let me introduce you to everyone.”

After a quick round of introductions it became clear to Hallie that everyone, like Georgiana called them, were most definitely the cream of the London crop. There were a couple of City bankers, several young (and probably rich) entrepreneurs, a famous sculptor who followed Georgie like a lapdog, and even a woman who had won a BAFTA.

These were the kind of people who never talked about ordinary, mundane things. From what Hallie could hear, most of the conversations around her versed about art, travel, literature, fashion, and all the latest fads on every field. Nobody discussed politics, of course; that would have been an inexcusable faux pas. And nobody ever talked about money either, as if the idea of exchanging vulgar currency for immortal art was an abomination.

Fortunately for Hallie, among the latest fads in London (and probably in the whole world) there was one she dominated quite well, and that was food. The explosion of cooking shows and celebrity chefs had transformed every elegant person into a gourmet, and as soon as Georgiana had introduced her to a few of her friends, they were all fighting for a minute of conversation with her.

Of course, some of the topics deviated a little bit from the purely culinary.

“Tell me, is Gordon Ramsay as dreamy in real life as he looks on television?” asked a woman with platinum hair, called Brenda, who had just published two bestsellers in a row . “I’m asking just for research purposes, of course. My next novel will be about a chef, and I need someone to base my characters on. Georgie suggested that I use Harry as my inspiration, but my protagonists need to have a mean streak, and poor Harrington is too nice for his own good.”

“He’s a wonderful person. And a great chef, have you tried his–”

“I’ve just had a brilliant idea!” Interrupted the other woman. “You have to take me to your restaurant one day. I need to immerse myself in the ambience of a real kitchen, that will give so much truth to my story! I promise I won’t bother you, I’ll be the proverbial fly on the wall. Who knows, maybe Chef Hiddleston will be a good model for my villain, don’t you think?”

Hallie took a deep breath, not knowing exactly what to answer. She hadn’t predicted that someone would mention Tom, and when the other woman pronounced his name she felt a wave of anxiety rush through her mind. Only one person in the room noticed: Georgiana, whose eagle eyes surveyed anything that could disrupt the peace of her well organized party. She rushed beside Hallie in a second, thrusting herself into the conversation before Hallie’s embarrassment could be noticed by anybody else.

“Now, Brenda, how can you be so insensitive? Hallie’s here to relax from work, not to talk about it. Hallie, darling, come with me to the kitchen; I’ve just had a disagreement with Harry about the right amount of capers he should put on the smoked trout canapés, and I need the opinion of a real expert.”

The kitchen was occupied by a couple of attractive men, laughing and flirting with each other, but Georgiana shooed them out with a piercing gaze and the eloquent rising of an eyebrow.

“Now, sit here and have a little rest. I like Brenda, but her conversation is too overwhelming… she treats everybody as if we were characters in her books.” Observing that Hallie still looked distressed, she pushed the plate of canapés towards her friend. “Hallie, dear, are you having trouble at work? If you need a change of scenery, I’ll order Harry to hire you first thing tomorrow.”

Hallie looked at her, surprised to see that her friend was absolutely serious.

“No, I’m fine. I mean, work is fine… it’s really the job of my dreams.”

“Then, if you don’t mind my asking, why did you look so worried when Brenda mentioned Band of Brothers…? Oh, wait. Unless it’s not the restaurant… You were fine until she mentioned Tom.”

Hallie picked up a canapé and looked at it with an air of melancholy.

“I was hoping to not think about him for a couple of hours. As I said, work is fine, but other things related to work have become… complicated.”

Georgiana sighed. “Oh, Tommy. I’m not even going to ask what he’s done this time. I feel it’s my fault in part, because I was the one who introduced him to that wretched woman who ruined him and left him unable to have a normal relationship again. She walked all over him, and moved on to do the same with my brother… and I’m ranting again, sorry. You don’t even know who Charlotte is, right?”

“I’ve heard of her, but we’ve never met”, answered Hallie.

Georgiana fiddled with her phone and showed Hallie a picture of a beautiful woman, smiling on the red carpet of some fashion show.

“That piece of work in the super tight dress is supermodel Charlotte Rhodes, my ex-sister in law… and, before that, Tom’s fiancée. She left Tom for my brother, married Harry, gave him hell for about a year, and then divorced him when she realized she could do better than the simple son of a baronet who had no interest in yachts, private jets or parties at Monte Carlo. Of course, I don’t know all the details of her life” she said, with an air of sufficiency that indicated that she did know all the details and a few more, “but I hear she’s going after Viscount Dalby now, the heir of the Earl of Rochdale. I know Teddy Dalby from Uni, he’s a good man but not particularly brilliant. I hope he’s got a good team of solicitors, he’s going to need them if he ends up marrying her.”

Hallie stared at the beautiful woman on the screen, who happened to be quite the opposite of her: tall, thin, tanned, and with an air of confidence that she supposed was normal in a supermodel. That woman had the power of making everybody else feel ugly.

“So, she left Tom because…?”

“Because he wasn’t getting rich fast enough. I mean, he’s far from destitute, but chefs don’t become rich and famous easily, not unless they have a television show, and Tommy never liked that kind of fame.” She put the phone aside, facing down, as if she wanted to keep her ex-sister in law as far away as possible. “Of course we didn’t know that when she married my brother; I honestly thought she’d had a change of heart and fallen in love with Harry, and that’s not a crime… she didn’t just fool him, she fooled the whole family.”

“Even you?”

“Yes, even me.” Georgiana rested her face on one of her thin, aristocratic hands. “I wish I could tell you that I mistrusted her from the start, or that my infallible instinct made me realize what a bitch she was. But no, alas. I was every bit as blind as the others; especially Harry. Then the drama about the title exploded, and he saw Charlotte’s true colors, but it was too late for anything but an awfully expensive divorce. We avoided a scandal, but poor Harry was completely heartbroken.”

Hallie took a bite of her canapé. Every one of Georgiana’s answers seemed to leave her with more questions about Tom, Harry and the woman who had gotten between them.

“I’m not sure I understand… about the title drama.”

“Ah, yes. Sorry for being so cryptic, of course you don’t know about that, not being British. And that’s hardly your fault, anyway.” Georgiana picked two mojitos from the kitchen counter and offered one to her friend. “You’ll think I’ve gone crazy when I tell you this, but it’s all the House of Lords’ fault.”

Hallie opened her mouth, closed it again, and sipped her mojito in silence.

“See? You think I’m halfway to the madhouse, but I promise it all makes sense”, said Georgiana. “It started two years ago, when a group of Lords agreed that it was a complete shame that men always took precedence over women when it came to inheriting a title. Of course, many people had been thinking that for years, but those Lords took it to Parliament. There were some debates, some opposition by a couple of conservative MPs, but in the end the New Peerages Act was passed and it received royal assent… sorry, I’m talking in riddles again; that means the Queen signed it so it could become law. And how does all that boring stuff affect my brother’s wretched marriage, you ask? Well, you may not know that Harry is the fourth of five siblings, four of which are girls.”

“Oh… I’m starting to see it now.”

“Of course you are. Before the Act got approved it was a given that, when our father died, Harrington would became Baron Mountjoy; but now, under the new law, the title will go to our older sister Eleonora.”

Hallie’s American common sense kicked in. “But why did Charlotte care so much about a title?”

“Because with the barony comes the house in London, the great house in Dorset, a couple of cottages and a bit of land. The property cannot be divided, the Act didn’t change that. It’s a package that goes straight from one Baron to the next.”

“When you say a bit of land, how many acres are we talking about?”

“Well… I suppose that it’s slightly more than most people own. Not quite half of the county of Dorset.”

“Oh, wow.” Hallie made a mental note to look up the Mountjoy barony in Wikipedia as soon as she got home. “So, Harry was going to inherit all that, and now…”

“And now he’ll be just the Honorable Harrington Craig for the rest of his life. Which he doesn’t give a toss about, of course, because all he’s wanted to do all his life is cook. Unfortunately for him, Charlotte had her eyes set on being Lady Craig and wearing a tiara; when she saw that was impossible, things started going sour between them, until she finally left. I have my suspicions that she was having a thing on the side, too… but I have no proof, so I’m not going to tell Harry.” Georgiana looked at her friend and smiled. “Welcome to the strange and wonderful world of the British peerage! I promise it becomes easier to navigate after a while. And most people don’t care about titles, of course; we’re like a strange race of dinosaurs that maybe one day will become extinct.”

Hallie laughed. “Oh, don’t say that! And forgive my ignorance… we don’t get taught about titles and stuff in America.”

“Of course not, it would be an absolute waste of school hours. And now that I’ve bored you enough, let’s go back to the party. We’re going to tell Brenda a couple of naughty secrets about Gordon Ramsay so she can include them in her book.”

“But I don’t know any naughty secrets about him!”

“Use your imagination and make up something scandalous! Let’s see if we can give her enough of a shock and she shuts up for five or six minutes.”

They got back to the living room, but Hallie could barely concentrate on the conversation. If she closed her eyes she could still see the picture of Charlotte, like a perfect Greek statue shrouded in pale grey fabric, flashing her perfect red lips and flawless skin, with her lustrous dark hair tossed over one shoulder.

If that was Tom’s idea of the perfect woman, why had he asked her out? And what exactly had Charlotte done to make him so bitter?

She shook her head, trying to banish the worrying thoughts. From the other side of the room, Harrington smiled at her and raised his glass, and she did the same. She decided to stay and have some fun talking to all these new people… after all, it was a really good party.

Tom’s plan of getting supremely drunk after Hallie left had backfired on him halfway. The only thing he felt like drinking was beer, and he had just finished the last one. There wasn’t any left in the kitchen, nor in the pantry, and to make things worse he had also out of cigarettes.

He paced up and down the spacious flat like a caged lion. He had the sudden idea of texting Luke, to see if his best friend could be of some help.

‘Luke, mate, are you awake?’

‘Good evening, Thomas. Of course I’m awake, it’s not even midnight. I may not be a party animal, but I still don’t get in bed at nine like an old lady.’

‘That’s the spirit. Look, I’m not having a good night, can you come over?’

‘I’m spending a couple of days with my parents, remember?’

‘You’re in Oxford?’

‘I told you on Thursday, Tom.’

‘Damn.’

‘Sorry. I can come back early tomorrow and we’ll have lunch at the pub. Then you can criticize all the food and feel superior.’

‘No, you stay there, I can manage.’

‘By the way, my Mum says hello.’

‘What is she doing up at this hour?’

‘We just came back from a Sound of Music sing-along. Don’t laugh, it’s more fun than it sounds.’

‘Someday I’ll blackmail you with this information.’

‘Tosser.’

‘I love you too, mate.’

Tom threw his phone on top of the table and lit his very last cigarette. He wasn’t drunk enough to go to sleep, nor sober enough to work on a new recipe, or read, or do anything remotely constructive. Then he remembered that there was an off-licence two streets away: if he was condemned to be alone and bored, at least he could get properly drunk.

During the time it took for the elevator to go down the 42 floors he thought of Hallie again, and it left him confused. To make things worse, Charlotte appeared in his mind without warning, and that made him downright angry. Almost two years since she had left, and he still couldn’t think of her without a nasty feeling in his stomach.

The fresh air of the street did him some good, though. It was a cool, clear night, and the City of London seemed quiet and spooky, perfect for his moody state. He felt relieved to see that the off-licence was open; he bought some cigarettes and a pack of beer bottles, thanked the Pakistani boy behind the counter, and hit the street again.

He didn’t really feel like going back to his flat just yet, so he wandered along the edge between the Barbican estate and the Golden Lane (where Hallie lived, although he commanded himself not to think of her). He had never paid any attention to Golden Lane or his inhabitants before… but it was nice, he thought, with its low buildings and curved roofs. Like the Barbican’s shabbier sister, but still with a lot of charm. They even had one thing better than the Barbican: their own pub, called The Shakespeare for God knew what reason.

Tom’s newly developed attention to the architecture of the City got interrupted by the sound of a car driving close to the estate, and what he did next was really strange, even for him. He normally didn’t react to things hiding behind a pillar.

The reason why he did such a silly was that the car in question had stopped in front of Crescent House, and Hallie had come out of it.

He let out a bitter laugh at the irony of the situation. Of course his steps would take him right to Hallie’s doorstep (even though he’d had no idea that she lived in Crescent House), and of course she would choose that moment to get back home and remind him of his disaster of a night.

But back from where? asked a still lucid part of his slightly boozy brain.

The car started again and left in the direction of Goswell Road. Now Tom could see it clearly under the streetlights, and what he saw made him go livid. He waited until Hallie had gone inside and then he practically ran towards his place, not stopping until he was safe inside the flat.

Hallie had arrived home in a silver titanium Tesla, and he knew perfectly well who owned a silver titanium Tesla: the man who had been one step ahead of him all his life, the man who had destroyed his happiness once and now had every intention of doing it again.

Why else would Hallie arrive home at midnight… in a car belonging to Harrington Craig?

[sorryforthephilosophy]

A Very Messy Utopia

Fictional utopias tend to be clean and simplistic, presenting an orderly and predictable society.  That always struck me as wrong, even off-putting.  I suspect it is for others as well, and perhaps that’s why we’ve turned away from utopian imaginings in recent decades.

The problem, I think, is that a simplistic, orderly utopia wouldn’t meet the needs of a diverse population. Diversity is messy, and diverse populations need to be dealt with in many different ways.  A simple, orderly utopia presumes a homogeneous population and culture.  Such a utopia is not a place where all kinds of people are welcome, and then can it truly be called a utopia?

But is a messy utopia possible? What would it look like?  As a long-time student of the history of New York City, I can cast my mind back to all the times and ways that New York has helped its inhabitants.  NYC has not always done good things for its people, but sometimes it has.  If I focus on those times, I think I can envision what a messy utopia would look like:

You’ve got a big, crowded city.  Millions live here.  Every day more arrive, from all over the world, from places where there is little hope or safety, to try to make better lives.  There’s no cost to get in (besides the cost of transport), no contract you have to sign to get in, you just have to be prepared to try to make it in a place that is unlike anywhere you have ever lived before.

Traffic is a bitch in this city, and there’s hardly any parking, but that doesn’t matter because most don’t people don’t own cars, don’t need to.  A complex but efficient system of busses, trains, subways and ferries gets people everywhere they need to go quickly and cheaply.  Public transport is just one piece of a massive system of public works that rivals those of entire nations in its complexity and capabilities.  The systems that deliver water and power, that take away sewage and trash, are humbling in scope, but they run so well, thanks to the hard work of thousands, that most don’t give them a second thought.

The city is incredibly diverse.  On the streets, on the subway, you’ll see every race, hear every language, see young and old, able and disabled, wealthy and not-so-wealthy, every style, every religion, every type of gender performance, every facet of neurodiversity.  A woman in a full hijab sits on the subway car next to a young punk who purposefully has one boob hanging out of a ripped t-shirt.  This is a place where people from all over come when they are being judged and discriminated against.  They know they will find a thriving subculture here of people who are just like them.

People are not generally friendly.  It would take too much emotional energy, or require you to be ingenuine, to act like you care about all the thousands of people you meet in a day who you will never meet again.  Instead, people know to mind their own business.  When you’re in public the fact that you’re reading a book, looking at your phone or listening to headphones means you don’t want to be spoken to, and people know to respect that.  Rather than friendliness, people learn not to step on each others’ toes.  Spread your legs too much on the subway so that nobody can sit next to you and some grandma who is too tired to take any shit, is going to yell at you until you put your knees together and apologize.  Through being yelled at, you will have learned a lesson on how to get along with others.

Yet when you need help, there will be someone in the crowd who will not only step forward to help, but have the skills to do so.  If you’re choking, someone who knows the Heimlich will step forward.  You fall onto the subway tracks with a train oncoming, some buff dude is going to jump down and haul you up just in the nick of time.  These everyday heroes are nightly celebrated on the local news.  And everyone sees that the city’s heroes look just like them, and resolve to be ready to be a hero whenever and wherever they can.

The government is scared of its people, and not the other way around.  Politicians are worried, harried creatures, constantly aware that displeasing their constituents may leave them out of a job.  Every citizen who comes into their office to complain about a pothole or bad smells from the fish-ball factory has to be given an audience.  Every working hour is spent trying to serve one’s constituents.  

The city government is a massive, expensive bureaucracy, but only because it needs to be to do all the things the city does and serve all the populations it serves.  Hundreds of thousands are employed by the city to help people.  Unions are ubiquitous and make sure that workers, government and private, are treated fairly.  Every government worker, from the garbage collector to the nurse at the hospital to the cop on the beat knows that in exchange for their honest and committed labor they’ll be rewarded with a living wage, good benefits and a comfortable retirement.

The city has its problems, but it deals with their harms.  Rather than punishing drug addicts, prostitutes, gambling addicts and homeless people, the city does what it can to keep them safe and give them a chance to improve their lives.  That might mean allowing them to indulge in a self-destructive vice in the safest way possible, e.g. getting clean heroin with clean needles from a clinic.  

Crime is fought in the city, but it is also prevented: by education, by social work, by family planning, by providing excellent mental health care, by giving people support when they need it, and by banning guns.

Cops are working class men and women, members of the community they serve.  They don’t generally carry guns, because neither do the people they are there to protect.

There is capitalism in this utopia, even thriving capitalism.  The city has an incredible infrastructure: freeways, docks, harbors, internet, dependable power, a healthy and educated workforce, consumers with money to spend, and this is an incredible boon for any business that operates here.  There are taxes and a high minimum wage, but these are not enough to stifle business.  Every kind of business, from mom-and-pop corner store, to heavy industry manufacturing, to high-tech R&D happens here.  Competition between private industry and government makes sure that citizens get the best of both.  For example: any company that wants to sell internet access has to make sure it can provide better or cheaper service than the municipal internet or else that business isn’t getting off the ground.

Capitalism does the one thing it’s historically done well: provide creativity and innovation.  Any person can work an honest job, save up some money and start a business.  If they think they can run a better pizza place, or a better web hosting company, or publish a better comic book than the competition, then they’re welcome to try.  If they truly have figured out some better way to run their business, they’ll thrive.  If they haven’t, their business will fold, and they’ll go back to being someone else’s employee again.  The failures are many, but nobody’s life is ruined, and the successes make the city a better place by making the services people want cheaper and better.

Some people can become wealthy, and live in fancy condos, and eat at expensive restaurants, but they have to pay a heavy tax, their fair share for being able to enjoy living in the most exciting city on earth.  They too feel safe walking the streets, don’t see any need to sequester themselves away from the poorer population.  Some of the best places in the city, the parks and the nightclubs and the street fairs, are free to attend, and there the wealthy mingle with the less-wealthy as equals.

There are a lot of laws.  Lawyers will do brisk business because there are more laws than any lay-person can wrap their heads around.  Most all of the laws concern how people can treat each other: how a landlord can treat a tenant, how an employer can treat an employee, how a factory can treat the air and water that everyone shares, etc.  The laws aren’t to protect any elite, they’re to protect the people.

The city is not clean.  It’s messy, and often ugly.  Many of the buildings are old and patched up.  In this city, you don’t pull down a building just because it’s old, you get up on a ladder and hammer on some scrap wood.  People love parts of the city, even the ugly ones, and will fight to protect them, getting them listed as historic landmarks.  That ugliness takes a lot of pressure off of everyone.  You will never lose customers because your retail spot or office is a bit shabby.  You can leave your apartment in last week’s sweatpants and not be judged by anyone.  You don’t have to have the latest clothes or a brand new car.  That money can be saved up for something that will actually improve your life.

Some people will live here all their lives.  Some will live here, make their lives better, climb a few rungs on the socioeconomic ladder, or make a better life for their kids, and then leave, making room for the next person coming in wanting to make a better life.

Thinking about this messy utopia, I can hear the angry voices of those who think it sounds more like a liberal dystopia.  For them it’s not a utopia if there are lawyers, social workers, gay people, Muslims, if there’s taxes and environmental regulations.  Even these assholes are welcome in the messy utopia, where laws will make sure their assholery won’t harm anyone else.  On the other hand, I’m sure their vision of a utopia excludes people, and I’d want no part of that.

The more I think about it, the more I think a messy utopia is possible, that there’s a way to get there from here.  I think we stopped demanding utopia because it stopped being something we could imagine.  I hope that can change.