#thank you ernie for this story

[brunhielda]

Musical Themes and Capitalistic Hellscapes

I am walking through Six Flags. For the purpose of this story, the only important thing is I am walking through a theme/amusement park. A place of merriment. A place where aesthetics are designed to elicit cheer.

So I am walking though this theme park, and there are sections. Each section of the park has it’s own soundtrack playing from speakers. The old west section has country music, Looney Tunes section has songs song by various characters, Metropolis (where the super hero themed stuff it) plays the soundtrack from the classic Superman movies, while Gotham (only Batman themed stuff- six flags clearly has a favorite) is playing the soundtrack of the 1990s cartoon.

As a musical nerd I am actually enjoying this and getting excited about recognizing various pieces of music. It’s making my day on an otherwise hot, crowded, annoying trip.

I am in the section of the park that is like “Main St. USA” or “enjoy the 50s” or just general Americana. If you live in the US, you know what I am talking about. Arcades, old style movie theater front, “quaint” shops, ect. It is basically playing “oldies” over the sound system. I can get that at the grocery store at home. I am mostly tuning it out. But then… what comes on?

16 Tons. If you don’t know the song, you can find it below. I am singing it before I realize what I am singing, it is that much a part of American psyche. But then I freeze, mouth gaping open, and laugh. Just a startled. Guffaw of a laugh. I’m sure I startled someone walking by me.

This song is about working a job for your whole life, never to get out from debt, and how it can turn you into one tough son of a bitch. It is about people with power seeing you as property, a cog in a machine.

Hearing it in the middle of an American theme park in a section of cheesie “Americana” fun, was the same weird disorienting feeling of hearing “Fortunate Son” blasting through a patriotic movie. It absolutely fits and absolutely does not in all the best and worst ways. Themes inextricably linked yet not compatible.

Does 16 Tons fit the theme of Americana? Absolutely. Our history with hard labor turning into union fights is part of who we are. Like I said, I know this song so well I was singing before I consciously identified it.

Does 16 Tons have a fun bouncy sound that will keep people moving and doing on a day they might otherwise be tired. For sure. Perfect musically for a theme park soundtrack. That’s part of why it’s so singable. It’s one of those “horrifically dark themes put to a fun beat” songs that get sung in pubs and bus rides simply BECAUSE the tune carries you along.

Does 16 Tons work thematically with forgetting your woes to spend a bunch of money on fun without thought or care? ABSOLUTELY NOT. This is one of those songs that plays on the radio on the way to work and if you relate too hard you walk in and quit. It puts into perspective which way your work/life balance is heading. In the middle of a theme park, some catches the lyric suddenly and it’s “Oh GOD, what have I done? Have I just shoveled the debt deeper to forget about it for a weekend? How do I release myself from this never ending cycle?!”

Point is, if you are trying to paint Americana as this beautiful nostalgic, rosy thing, this is the WRONG SONG. It is far too honest. Like “Fortunate Son” being way too real to the life of military service to be used in a movie painting the life as heroic, “16 Tons” is the actual reality of the furthest hellscape of capitalism that Americana has, can, and will likely continue to fall into.

If the American theme park is this symbol of “the American way” working out like it is supposed to- work your week, have a comfortable life, take the occasional weekend or vacation to places like this and bond with the family- then 16 Tons is the absolute other end of capitalism, where people are chattel, and there is no escape, moreover it is the prevailing belief that escape is somehow “immoral.”

Yet here it was, the hellscape of capitalism, being cheerfully celebrated as part of the perfect American identity.

Laughing was really the only response I could have.

[gaytedlasso]

Oh absolutely not. No way in hell. Pride flag and camera set up in one corner of the press room equals nightmare fuel. Trent looks over at Keeley, glaring daggers at her — and she just giggles. Goddamnit. Apparently that 'pissed off journalist who will end you' expression of his has softened quite a bit over the past few years. Suppose that's what happens when you're married to a literal ray of sunshine.

"So Rebecca and I thought a pride campaign this year—"

"Flattered but no thank you." Trent's voice is clipped, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"But whyyyy?" Keeley pouts up at Trent. "It's not like this is breaking news any more!"

Trent is well aware. The media frenzy when the press caught wind of their fledgling relationship was nothing short of a firestorm. (Trent will kill Ernie. That is non-negotiable at this point.) They always knew it'd be front page headlines, but Trent grossly underestimated the vitriol thrown at them both. Colin's kiss on the pitch was barely a blip on the radar; the press saved all their ire for Ted-and-Trent.

But as with all things, it died down once Rupert had yet another scandal and the news shifted to that story like a flock of magpies gravitating to the next shiny thing. Sure they all circled the proverbial wagons (fucking hell Ted, Trent's tired of thinking like you.) the day Ted showed up on the pitch with a wedding band and Trent, in the press room at his new job as ~~lion tamer~~ press wrangler wore a matching one.

Neither of those were planned events. Ted and Trent had always tried to just keep their relationship quiet — never secret just... quiet. Never flaunting.

This... this is flaunting. This is a public display. This is in your face...

Trent isn't concerned about his own queerness, he's worried about Ted. He's worried about their children. He's worried —

"Don't overthink," Ted says, wrapping his arms around Trent from behind, moustache tickling Trent's ear. "I can smell just how hard those gears are turning. When Keeley asked I said you'd have more reservations than a sold-out Marriott on super bowl weekend."

Turning around in Ted's arms, Trent lifts a hand, threading through the soft tawny strands at the base of Ted's neck.

"You're not worried?"

Ted chuckles, the sound warm and slithers down Trent's spine like a warm hug. "Not a whit, Walt Whitman," Ted replies. "I look at it as an opportunity. Besides, some wise woman once told me to fuck the haters and—"

As always, the f-word spilling from Ted's lips incites some sort of pavlovian response in Trent.

Trent doesn't even hear the sound of the camera click.

- drabble written by my beloved @singaroundelay

~

Fuck the haters! Happy Pride 🏳️‍🌈

inprnt / redbubble

[nightmare-of-homophobes]

You Know You're My Favourite - Avis Amberg X gp!reader

Words: 5,4k (more or less).

Summary: Avis searches for her favourite girl after a fight.

Warnings: porn without plot; NSFW; sub!Avis, Dom!reader; oral (both receiving); penetration (Avis receiving); swearing; use of titles; weird/unconventional power play; light praise kink; breeding kink; mommy kink; rough sex; flirts a lot with BDSM; tits play; implied previous conversations of boundaries; implied internal homophobia; implied unilateral love.

Tag list (those who commented or reblogged on the tag post): @alittlewitchyone @emilynissangtr @greek-freak101 @live-laugh-love-lupone @multixfan @thoroughly--confused @likealayka @thegoddamnfeels @kenzie-floops @amethyst-bitch @acciosoftbroom @missquints @mrsines

Special thanks to the lovely @live-laugh-love-lupone who kindly beta read this for me <3

English isn't my native language, so bare me! I didn't watch more than three episodes of Hollywood and hadn't written gp for a while, so I'm sorry if Avis is too out of character and if the sex is awkward 🥲. This story is based on an ask I received some time ago (I hope this finds you, anon!). I wanted to try something different by mixing the request - sub!Avis - with what I took from the character and from the fanfics I’ve read about her - the power play and titles.

Hope you enjoy it! Xoxo!

(Also, I wrote a good part of this while listening to “Red Wine Supernova” and “Good Luck, Babe!”, kind of mixing the songs to set the vibes to the characters.)

***

It was late and your shift was almost ending. It had been a boring day with no clients for you so you got pretty occupied with pumping gas and cleaning cars all afternoon. 

You were just about to go to the bathroom to change yourself out of your uniform when you heard a car approaching. You got irritated by that, but that slipped off your mind as soon as you recognized the car.

Putting on your best smile, you approached it.

– What a lovely surprise… – you said leaning into the window to look at the ginger woman. You didn't miss how she seemed distressed. – How can I help you, Mrs. Amberg?

– You're taking me to Dreamland.. – she demanded, her tone letting you know she wasn't in the mood for your playfulness.

You nodded quietly.

– I just need to let Ernie know you're taking me out. – you said and went back into the gas stations to do it, returning as quick as you could and entering the car.

She drove off the station in silence, the only sounds between you being the roar of the motor and the background sounds that driving through Hollywood involved. You could practically feel the tension irradiating from her body, so you put a hand on her thigh, slowly drawing patterns close to her knee - not wanting to drive her attention to you at all, but to calm her down a little. It seemed to work since she relaxed a bit.

– Tough day, mama? – you dared to break the silence.

– I don't want to talk about it. – she said, leaving no room for other attempts. 

– What do you want to talk about, then? 

She sighed loudly and you felt bad for pushing her, but she answered anyway:

– What about your career? Have you got any offers lately?

You hummed in confirmation. For some reason, Avis always liked to learn about her lovers and she loved to discover how you wanted to be a professional photographer. You deep down wished she would, one day, pose to you.

– Yeah, I'm covering an event this weekend. – you told her excitedly.

– That's great, what is it? – you told her the name of the event, but it wasn't one from her social circle so she didn't know it. – … But I know you'll do amazing, baby, you always do.

She met your eyes for the first time in the night, a small proud smile on her lips. That made your chest warm. It was good to know you had someone to make proud.

– You're just saying it because you know I'm a sucker for being told I'm doing a good job. – you accused her, earning a chuckle from her.

– You caught me. 

You fell into a very much lighter silence as she drove into the night. You weren't recognising the route she was taking, so you imagined it was somewhere she hadn't taken you yet. When she parked in front of an expensive looking hotel, you were sure you hadn't been there before. Not that she didn't take you to fine places, she did, but that was… Too much, in your opinion.

The parking valets opened the doors of the car for you both and you jumped out of it, feeling a little bit conscious of your clothes. Maybe you should've made Avis wait for you to change it when you were still in the gas station but now it was too late to regret.

Letting the ginger woman lead the way inside the hotel and into an elevator, you were able to relax again when the doors closed and you started to go up to your floor. But your relaxed state didn’t last too long since Avis was needier that night.

Being pressed against one of the walls of the elevator, your lips crashed against her red painted ones, her mouth as demanding as she always liked to portray herself. The kiss was messy and harsh, mirroring Avis mood and making you know exactly how she needed to be treated that night.

Holding onto her waist, you pulled her body flushed against yours, your tongue darting out to try its way into her mouth. As soon as she let it slip past her lips, you started to slowly dismantle her demanding attitude. Avis usually liked to have control over everything happening in her encounters, needing to guide what and how things would go. She tried to do it with you in your first encounters, but she was quick to discover that when it came to you, you simply wouldn't bend over anyone’s power without fighting for it - and that she honestly enjoyed having someone to tell her what to do sometimes.

You could still taste the wine on her tongue, which was another clear sign that something distressful happened and she really needed you to make her forget whatever it was that upset her. You could already piece together what probably happened: one more fight with the powerful Mr. Amberg. You didn't even know the man or had a hint of how he looked, but you despised him the same way. How could a man be married to a woman like Avis and not try to satisfy her?

The elevator’s door rang while opening and you quickly disentangled ourselves. She laughed at you.

– It's fine, doll. I made sure to rent a room on a floor that was empty. – she said, already leaving the elevator.

You laughed at yourself and followed her down the corridor. Your eyes didn't resist falling to her ass, admiring how rounded it was as you watched how her hips swayed as she walked. You couldn't wait to put your hands on it.

As she unlocked the door and pulled you inside the room, you met her halfway, crashing your lips together again as you closed the door with your foot before slamming her against it.

– Hmm, did you miss me that much? – she asked, putting her arms around your neck.

You hid your face on her neck, kissing and sucking it softly.

– No… I'm actually had been very busy fucking some pussies around. – you teased her, knowing how she could get jealous when at your work.

It worked because you heard how she grumply groaned and turned her face to the other side when you tried to kiss her on the cheek.

– Oh, mama, you let me get into your head so easily. – you poked her side. – You know you're my favourite client.

Though you meant those words, they left you with a bitter taste on the tongue. You had a strict rule of trying to not get attached to your regular clients, but sometimes you would get yourself wondering how it would be to be something else than just a prostitute to Avis. Something more.

But of course you would never speak those desires out loud. No. She was married and you were both women. And, in the end, she only saw you as a passing fun. Someone she could get distracted with when her true life got tough.

– You're distracted today… – she called your attention, making you snap out of your thoughts. She frowned. – What's in your head?

You let a peck on her lips, diverting her attention.

– Nothing at all. – you brushed off the topic. Letting your hands fall to her butt, you gave it a playful squeeze. – Now… What about going to prepare yourself for me? – you asked against her lips before leaning to her ear again. – I'm so hungry, mama…

You heard how her breath hitched and felt how her hands buried themselves into your hair. Leaning back to look at her, you saw how her eyes had darkened. You always loved to watch her eyes. Especially when she was under you trying so hard to keep them open while cumming around your cock.

Leaving your embrace, Avis went to the double doors in one of the walls of the living room (that you only noticed once she approached because you were too busy paying attention to her before), opened it and disappeared inside of it. The bed was probably inside those doors. You heard another one being opened before the shower was turned on.

She always liked to dress up on encounters like that, but she liked to be extra clean and use her fanciest gowns and lingerie for you. She was sold for compliments and you suspected that was a thing for her.

Trying to busy yourself, you poured down two drinks, swallowing yours in one go.

You hadn't to wait too long before you heard heels clicking on the floor and arms flew around you to embrace your body tightly.

– Do you want a drink? – you asked softly, enjoying how she cupped your breasts and kissed the back of your neck.

– Right now I just want to drink whatever comes out of you. – she answered, sending shivers down your spine.

– I can arrange that. – turning on her arms, you started to undo your belt, feeling how she was getting impatient. 

Drinking the shot of whiskey you had poured for her, you swallowed a little before bringing your lips closer to hers. She quickly accepted it, opening her mouth so you could spill the drink into it. Of course that wasn't what she meant, but she wouldn't deny you.

Kissing down her cheek and her jaw, you buried your face back on her neck, your hands found the knot of her robe to untie it. She was smelling so good you wanted to wrap yourself around her and never leave.

– I like this colour on you… – you muttered against her skin, hearing her whimper softly. – But unfortunately I need this off.

Letting it slide off her shoulders, it was your turn to lose your breath.

– Did you like it, baby? – she asked with a sultry smile and tone, faking innocence. She knew you liked it. Actually, she could feel just how much you liked it.

There, standing confidently in front of you, she was wearing a red corset that hugged her curves perfectly, but that wasn’t all. Your eyes ranked up her legs, admiring the black long socks attached to something underneath the corset - probably a, also black, garter belt. Finally, your eyes met what you considered to be the cherry on top: lace black panties that left so little for your imagination.

You ran your fingers over the details of the corset, your mind already picturing how it would be to take it out of her later. The rest would stay in place, it wouldn’t bother you.

– I loved it. – you said, playing with her garters. – And because of it I’ll let you pick what we’re doing first. What do you want baby to do? – you asked, pulling her hips closer so one of your knees was placed between her legs.

Under your intent gaze, Avis squirmed. She enjoyed your attention so much. Starting to undo the buttons of your white shirt, she asked:

– You mentioned being hungry, right? 

You laughed and helped her to get yourself undressed. Once you got rid of your shirt, tie and shorts, your hands returned to her hips, starting to push her in the direction of the couch, you made her sit down. She made mention of untying the garters but you pulled her hands off it harshly.

– None of it, I didn't ask you to take it off. – you reprimanded her while kneeling on the floor.

– I don't need your permission… – she said under her breath and lifted her hips towards you.

One of your eyebrows shot up as you looked at her. So she was naughty tonight? How bad.

– Are you looking to be punished, mama? – you asked severely. – You know how long I can keep you on edge.

She seemed to fight her pride and own words before looking away and muttering:

– I'm sorry.

– That's better. – you tapped the side of her thigh, satisfied. – Now where were we…

You spread her legs, starting to kiss the insides of her legs and massaging her feet while doing it. She loved receiving a good massage. 

– Yes… – she sighed, opening her legs even more, if it was possible.

Her skin was smelling so sweet and her socks brushing against your bare skin were so soft that you were feeling yourself getting hard faster than usual. Avis would certainly drive you mad anyday.

– Baby, please… – she whined, her hips bucking in the air, asking to be touched. – Please, Mama's so hot…

Complying with her requests, you brought your lips higher, your fingers cleverly finding her panties and pushing them to the side. You licked from her entrance to her clit, feeling how she clenched and how the foot you were still holding curled into your hand.

Bringing your hands to her hips, you pulled her further to the edge of the couch, placing her legs over your shoulders.

– Look at this, mama.  – you breathed against her core, letting soft kisses all over her mound and playfully sucking at her bundle of nerves, feeling her squirm and moan shakily. – Your pink hole is so wet for me already, I bet I could slip inside right now without any trouble… – you fully slid your index finger into her fluffy folds as if to prove your point to her. – See?

– God… – she groaned and you could feel how her hands were clutching at the couch on your sides. She could feel your finger searching for her weak spot, scratching her walls sweetly in its path.

You were steadily letting kitten licks on her clit, your finger caressing her point over and over again, reducing her to a pathetic moaning mess. When you started to suck her, her hands flew to your head, holding you impossibly closer.

– Fuck! Yes! – she rolled her hips against your mouth, starting to ride your face in chase of her orgasm.

You let her do it while adding another finger inside her, scissoring and opening her so you could replace it with your tongue later. 

– Hmm… Mama, you’re taking me so well. – you complimented her, your voice sending vibrations against her clit, making her grind harder against you. 

Her moans were louder with each thrust of your fingers, every rub of her clit against your tongue making her legs twitch and her hole clench around your fingers. You knew she was so close and you were loving it. Satisfied with the stretching, you finally slipped your tongue inside her, tasting her flavor straight from the source. 

Her grip on your hair tightened, her thighs creating a fluffy - and strong - cage as they closed around your head. A loud, obscene moan left her lips, her whole body losing control as she reached her orgasm.

– Ah, baby! Fuck! Fuck! – she cried out.

Her walls were tightening so hard around your tongue it was practically expelling you from inside her and you couldn’t help but whimper at that. Staying still, you let her use your mouth to ride her orgasm.

You caressed her thighs all the while, soothing her and waiting for her to calm down. It didn’t take her long before you could finally free yourself from her legs, resting your head on her thigh as you had done before. You looked up at her with what you knew were your loving eyes.

– Everything alright, mama? – you asked as she panted, her chest rising and falling heavily. 

All you received from her was a soft groan, her eyes shut tightly. Getting up from the floor, you sat on her lap, drawing her attention back to you. 

– I’m fine. – she said dreamingly, opening her eyes to meet yours. 

– That’s good… – you said and leaned to kiss her.

She welcomed your mouth with her tongue, more than willing to taste herself on yours, moaning at it.

– Can you taste how sweet you are, mama? – you mumbled against her lips, making sure to press your tongue down at hers, wanting her to commit her own taste to her memory.

The kiss was heated and messy and you didn’t even notice when you started to roll your hips on hers, brushing your covered erection against her corset, missing the feeling of her chubby belly. You liked the corset, it was pretty, but you liked even more to have her breasts and tummy on display.

– Stand up, let me take this thing from you. – you panted against her lips, getting off her lap to sit beside her.

She did it and you pulled her down on your lap, moaning at the feeling of her ass hugging your dick perfectly. She rubbed her ass over you playfully, earning a quick slap on her right buttcheek, which made her quiet down.

Starting to open her corset, you took the opportunity to also undo her complex updo. She usually didn’t let you do it, since it took time to put her hair back in place, but you didn’t think she was planning going anywhere or returning home that night. As you finished with the corset and brushed her hair with your fingers, admiring its redness, you made no effort to resist reaching around her body and taking her big boobies into your hands, loving their weight and softness. The sigh she let out told you how relieved she was to get rid of the corset.

– Feeling better, Mama? – you asked while playing with her breasts, squeezing them and rubbing her nipples to get them hard.

She only hummed in answer, her ass not staying still on your lap, teasing you as much as you were teasing her. You kissed your way to the back of her neck, biting down hard on the skin there, making her squirm and whimper above you, her hands reaching up to hold yours in place. You pinched her nipples and flicked it on your fingers, making her breath get elaborated again.

– Baby, please! – she finally gave up, understanding you wouldn’t take any action if she didn’t beg. – Please, I need you… – she tried to push one of your hands down to her pussy but you prevented her from doing so. – Please, I need you inside me so fucking bad!

Reaching to her neck instead of between her legs, you held it and squeezed it weakly, pulling her towards you until her head was on your shoulder.

– You know what to do if you need my cock that much. – you said against her ear, enjoying how her desperate eyes found yours. Such beautiful eyes.

You smirk down at her and bite her ear softly.

Sliding down from your lap, she got on her knees before you, her hands fumbling with your tight underwear while letting mouth-opened kisses on your erection through the cloth. She looked so sexy doing that.

– Aren’t you forgetting anything, mama? – you asked and she looked up at you confused. You gestured for her to keep eye contact and she nodded.

Letting her take control of that small moment, you leaned back on the couch helping her to take off your underwear by raising your hips. She bit her lips at the sight of your cock on display.

– See how excited I get everytime you come to see me, mama? – you asked, running a finger on her lower lip before slipping it inside her mouth, watching how she accepted it, sucking it into her mouth.

Bringing her closer by her chin, you let her replace your fingers with your cock, sighing heavily at the velvety and warm sensation of her mouth around you.

– That's it, mama… – you hold her head, not leading her, just letting it rest there. – Take it all inside.

She obeyed, bit by bit taking all your length into her mouth, not having any trouble. The idea of her being so used to doing that kind of turned you on. Between the two of you, you might have been the prostitute, but she was definitely the slut.

You moaned as she bobbed her head up and down a few times before returning to your head, sliding her tongue against your slit.

– Fuck, mama... – you bite your lower lip, your free hand going to your tits to play with them. – You know exactly what to do to make me lose control.

You groaned when she sucked the head, her cheeks hollowing as she did and her eyes searching your reactions through heavy lids and battling of lashes. That woman would certainly kill you one day.

Letting her work her magic on your cock, you took that moment to just enjoy the pleasure she was giving you, focusing on your sensations as soft groans and moans kept falling from your lips, your chest heavy and heart racing as you watched how she switched between sucking your cock and teasing the slit at the tip or sucking your balls while jerking you, all the while never breaking eye contact.

– You're doing so fucking good… – you panted as your release started building, your dick throbbing into her mouth. You almost came when, in one go, she put all your length deep inside her mouth, the tip reaching the back of her throat. – Fuck!

You held her head in place, closing your eyes at the intensity of the wave of pleasure that teased you, unaware of how she also closed her eyes, moaning around you and sending another wave through you. She always found it so hot when you were rough with her and she could feel her arousal sliding down her thighs, her pussy aching to be filled again as she made her best to not gag around you. You released your grip on her.

– Keep going, I'm so close. – you gasped.

With that, she doubled her efforts, your hips bucking to meet her meet her mouth halfway, your cock brushing the back of her throat at every damn thrust. A strain of swears were falling from your lips and, when you finally couldn't help it anymore, your hand hooked into her hair and you harshly set the rhythm you wanted, making her choke sometimes while supporting herself on your thighs, trying to relax her jaw the most as she let you fuck her mouth. She knew her throat would be on fire the next day but she didn't care. She would never stop you from doing what you wanted to her. 

She was exactly where she wanted, receiving exactly what she needed.

With a final rough thrust up, you held her still, cock buried impossibly deep inside her as she fought the urge to push you off her so she could breathe. When she couldn't take it anymore, she patted your thighs and you let her go while growling through your orgasm, your seed spilling from her throat to her face since she couldn't hold your dick down her throat for so long. 

Both of you were breathing heavily for totally different reasons.

– Sorry. – you apologized as soon as you got enough air to do it.

Her head was resting on your hip, her hair in all directions. Her face was flushed and painted with your cum while her lips were swollen and her cheeks had stains of tears. She was a fucking mess.

– It's okay, doll… – she muttered raspy, her chest rising and falling in quick puffs as she still was trying to calm herself down. – You know I like it.

Gentler than you were before, you ran your hand through her hair, putting it a bit back in place, not because you were finished with her, but because you wanted to bring her some tenderness after such roughness. You waited until she was ready to keep going.

Watching her standing up, you stood too, catching her lips into your in a soft, caring kiss.

– You know we can stop at any moment, right? – you reminded her in a whisper.

– I want to continue. – she reassured you. You nodded.

Taking her by the hand, you led her to those double doors, entering it to find your way to the bed. It was very large and fit the luxury of the place.

– Get on the bed. I'm gonna get another drink. – you said while caressing her back.

As she moved to do so, you returned to the other room, pouring you a drink while you still felt cloudy from your previous orgasm. Something strong like whisky would definitely help, you thought to yourself. Yet, it wasn't the whisky at all that snapped you from your current state of mind, but the vision of your tie lying in a corner of the room. An idea popping into your head.

Drinking the liquid in one go, you walked over and picked up the tie, returning to Avis immediately.

You weren't waiting to find her on her fours on the bed, waiting for you with her ass high in the air and face buried in the sheets. All the while she was touching herself, two fingers deep inside her drenched pussy.

That pissed you off.

– I didn't say you could touch yourself! – you exclaimed as you reached over and pulled her fingers out of her harshly. –You’re really looking for that punishment, lady!

You turned her over so you could pin her down, you face hovering over hers as you angrily asked:

–Now choose… – you lifted the tie. – Hands or eyes?

She didn't miss a beat before answering:

– Eyes. – she could bear not being able to see, but being restrained was a torture for her.

You grimaced at her answer, an unsatisfied expression on your face. 

– You don't deserve it. – you said. – Mama has been acting very bad.

You flipped her over again, using your weight to hold her still as she fought you and your decision to tie her hands instead. As you finished, you leaned and growled on her ear: 

– You will learn how to please your baby!

Getting off her, you helped her to return to her previous position: ass on the air and face buried in the sheets. Aligning your dick with her entrance, you entered at once, knowing that she was more than prepared after so much teasing. She moaned unashamed at that, ass moving to meet your hips halfway.

– Yesss… – the word lingered on her tongue, turning into a hissing as you slapped her ass once more.

Settling a steady rhythm of thrusts, you watched, hypnotized, how her pussy took your cock so well, as it was designed especially for you. A soft and warm place for your dick to rest and empty itself.

Oh, that was another great idea. You would adore to cum inside Avis again and again until she was filled and carrying your seed deep inside her.

Keeping to fuck her in that slow and steady rhythm, you knew exactly what you were doing to her: making her lose her mind again. It wouldn't take long until she was pathetically begging again, her brain melting from having what she wanted from the start but it not being enough to satisfy her.

And you were right, it didn't take long.

Once she realised you had no intention in changing your pace, she cried out muffled:

– Baby, please… – she tried to fuck herself against you, but reaceived another harsh slap. – Mama is so sorry, please… She won't do that again… Please, please, please… Mama will do anything baby wants her to do, promise… – her whimpers keep going, but you already have heard the words you wanted to hear so you leaned into her again, one hand getting tangled in her hair again.

– Anything, mama? – you asked and, to provoke her, you gave a particularly rough thrust. Just the way she liked.

– Yes! Fuck, yes, please… – she cried.

Your free hand winding its way through her body until it finds her clit, rubbing it in tight circles, enjoying how she gasped and moaned even louder.

– Do you know what I would love, mama? – you kept whispering against her ear. – To have you carrying my babies… – a soft “yes” came as an answer and you closed your eyes. – Wouldn't it be lovely, mama? Me buried deep inside you? Feeling you so good? Spilling all my seed so mama could take it in her perfect body for me? It would make me so happy, mama… 

Hearing her confirm every question you made her was an otherworldly experience, but the words that set you wild were those who came from her lips in sequence of that:

– Please, love, give me your babies… I'll carry your babies, please…

Pushing her face against the mattress harder and holding onto her tied hands, you started slamming into her, the sounds of your skins meeting each other extremely obscene. You were panting and whimpering, lost in Avis body as you finally gave her what she was so pleased to beg for, her moans fully turning into screams of pleasure now, her hands twitching and trying desperately to free themselves from the tie while her toes curled and she bit the sheets to muffle her sounds.

Every thrust of yours sent her higher on her from the force you were using to fuck her, almost as if trying to forge your bodies together, so it was a good thing you were keeping a good hold on her, otherwise her head would be banging against the headboard.

When she started clenching painfully around your cock, you knew she was close to her orgasm. You were too. Flipping your positions, you laid on bed and pulled her above you, untying her hands so she could support herself to ride you. 

– Yes! Yes! Gimme your babies, yes! – she kept exclaiming as she bounced hard up and down the entirety of your length, seeming to want as bad as you to bury your cock deep inside her. – Fuck, yes, mama feels so good! Mama is gonna cum!

You helped her to bounce, supporting her hips and meeting them with yours halfway as well, wanting to make her cum again. 

Sitting down on the bed, you held her hips down, burying yourself inside her while helping her to grind on you, one of your hands searching for her clit to send her over the edge. You were feeling goosebumps all over your body and it was becoming harder to fight your orgasm.

– Cum for me, mama, please. – you asked and, lowering your head to her chest, you caught one of her lips into your feverish mouth, sucking it hungrily.

That was enough and, with her orgasm finally washing over her, she stopped her movements, her entire body tensing up.  Being squeezed like that, you didn't even try to resist your own orgasm, spilling yourself inside her body as a guttural moan escaped from the back of your throat.

Both of you stayed still, practically breathing each other's air as you panted with your foreheads pressed together. For a long moment, none of you dared to move, both sensible to touch and still feeling the aftershocks of your blissful orgasms. Finally, you turned her again on the bed and slipped out of her, both of you moaning from the loss of the sensation.

You watched how your seed spilled out of her mistreated hole once you were out. You weren't preoccupied with coming inside her. She was past her fertile age and you were infertile, so there was no risk at all.

Laying beside her, you welcomed her into your arms.

– Feeling better? – asked softly, running your fingers through her hair and kissing the top of her head, your eyes were feeling so heavy.

– Much better. – she said and yawned.

– Go to sleep. – you told her, knowing that all would end very soon.

Soon she would have to return to her husband and you to your clients. Soon she would pretend that all those nights with you were nothing more than usual fun, even though both of you know she had stopped seeking other prostitutes after finding you. Stopped seeking men.

And you, well, soon you would have to pretend that you didn't let her affect you. That you didn't let yourself hope that, one day, she would need more than just sex. And, certainly, that you didn't caught yourself thinking of her when fucking others or wishing she would accept what the nature of your encounters were saying about her.

– Good night, doll. – she said sleepily.

– Good night, Avis. – you answered, kissing her head once again.

You knew she would have already left you when you woke up the next morning.

.

.

.

.

Comments are very appreciated because I'm a sucker for validation!

Masterlist

[fallstaticexit]

When your Gen X, boomer cusp boy mom mother can't read the room to save her life.

AN: If anyone is interested in some more Lyric lore, you can check out my TikTok for part one and part two of her backstory. Trigger Warnings: pregnancy loss, depression.

prev / next

Myrah: Oh, my sweet boys! I missed you so much!

Sonny: So you went and got married, huh? Didn’t think to tell us, mama?

Olive: [whispers] Girl, not your mom getting her groove back.

Lyric: [groans] See, this is what I’m talking about...

Nina: [whispers] This was not on my Myrah visit bingo card.

Ernest: We eloped. Nothing too fancy, since it’s both our second marriage. I can send some photos your way, just got to get them developed.

Mel: Developed?

Myrah: My Ernie is an old soul. Very old school.

Sonny: Uh-huh. How old exactly?

Lyric: Isn’t there a dinner we’re supposed to be eating or something?!

Myrah: Oh, that’s right! Everyone sit, I’ll bring out the food.

Sonny: Yeah, maybe get this man a shirt while you at it..

[awkward silence]

Sonny: How’d you meet my moms, man. What’s all this about?

Mel: This isn’t some life insurance scam, is it?

Myrah: Boys!

Ernest: We met at a Divorce Support Group.

Lyric: [sucks teeth] Why are you still going to those? You were divorced over 30 years ago...

Myrah: There’s no expiration date on support! I can still go. We take a trip to Cancun every year.

Ernest: She was telling her story about being a young mom in a loveless marriage, and I really felt that. I was a young father, too.

Sonny: [grumbles] Tuh. Ya don’t say?

Ernest: I asked her to join me for coffee one day, and well, the rest is history.

Myrah: Ernest completes me. We don’t let things like our age keep us from being happy. Ernest satisfies me in ways you can’t imagine-

[Everyone groans]

Ernest: Meeting your mom really changed my life, kids.

Olive: I get it. It happens to the best of us. I fell in love with a beautiful, elegant, rich older woman, and my life has never been the same. I’ll probably never fall in love again.

Sonny: ?????

Myrah: Thank you, Olivia. Kids, I just want you to be happy for me. Don’t I deserve that?

Lyric: This is weird! You get married without telling anyone, and it’s to some guy who’s like half your age. Why would you think we wouldn’t be upset about this?

Myrah: Well, honey, you’re not a little girl anymore. I can do as I please and not have to tiptoe around what my children think. I’m allowed to live my life however I want.

Ernest: Your mother’s right. And I think if you gave me a chance, I could show you how I can be a great father figure and role model to you and your brothers.

Lyric: Am I in the twilight zone?? What the hell is happening right now??

Ernest: Ah! Little man’s burgers! Must of slipped my mind. I guess age is catching up to me.

Sonny: Mhmmm, which is how old again?

Myrah: I’ll get it. Sit tight, baby.

Lyric: [sneers] You! Did you know about this?

Sonny: What! No!

Mel: I mean, you did say you talk to mom everyday. She never mentioned this?

Olive: Can we get these dishes passed around or...

Sonny: I mean, she mentioned having a friend name Ernest once but I’m thinkin’ he’s some old guy she met!

Ernest: [chuckles] Yeah, I get that alot. I normally go by EJ. Ernest Sr. is my father’s name.

Sonny: Uh-huh... and who yo daddy? Probably went to school with him...

Myrah: Alright, got one burger for my big strong, handsome grandson!

Myrah: What? What’s the matter?

Lyric: Mom, there’s cheese and stuff on it! He doesn’t like that! He’ll only have it plain!

Myrah: Ok! Ok! No problem! I’ll just pluck it off! I-I didn’t know-

Lyric: You would have known if you’d bothered to get to know him at all! You don’t know anything about any of your grandchildren, Mateo especially! All you care about is that he’s a boy.

Lyric: You don’t listen to me when I tell you about things that overwhelm him. You don’t listen to me at all! I’m not going to let you make him feel invisible like you did me.

Myrah: Lyric, wait! Please don’t leave like this! Talk to me, Sunshine!

Olive: Um. Thanks for the to-go plates, Mrs. M. I bet it would have been really good when it was fresh.

[tires screeching]

[leclerc-s]

snow angel - track two

series masterlist // previous // next

2 YEARS AGO

i'll fucking fight him. i swear it.

no honey, you don't have to.

i saw this coming.

how on earth could you see this coming?

he was distant.

i've told him i loved him for days and he always responded me "me too" or worse he said nothing back

oh sweetie

how did you put up with that? you deserve so much better.

it's okay. i'm moving out of our apartment tonight. ryan said i can stay with him for a few weeks.

i love him lily. i don’t know when those feelings will go away. i hope they go away soon. i can’t keep loving someone who hurt me this bad.

i promise you i’ll fight him when i see him in bahrain next season.

i hope he dnfs

i hope you write a fucking day destroying album because of this. he will never know peace

oh lily, i'm going to ruin his fucking life with whatever i come with.

lily muni he removed lando norris

lily muni he fuck that guy

charles leclerc i do not understand what happened? george russell you're telling me the chronically online guy doesn't know what just happened? alex albon the grid's #1 gossip girl doesn't know what happened? charles leclerc NO I DON'T KNOW THAT'S WHY I'M ASKING CONNARDS!

pierre gasly lando cheated on rhea

max verstappen i can crash into him in bahrain next season?

yuki tsunoda i will bite his ankles. lily muni he i'll poison his food yuki tsunoda we will not go that far. food is sacred.

esteban ocon does this mean that **** can finally **** ***?

lance stroll how about you shut the fuck up esteban? max verstappen what the fuck are you two going on about now? lance stroll ignore esteban. he's a bit delirious.

daniel ricciardo i promise to make his life miserable next year.

rhea reynolds i'm just pissed that he was too much of a coward to end our relationship before he went on to publicly cheat on me.

rhea reynolds at least try to not get caught.

charles leclerc what is it the kids say? he fumbled?

lance stroll please never use that phrase again

pierre gasly she's probably crying to taylor swift now

rhea reynolds LET ME BE PEAR GASLY! daniel ricciardo yeah, pierre let the girl be emotional! rhea reynolds if i'm crying to all too well that's nobody's business but mine

charles leclerc you can come to bahrain with me!

max verstappen or me! daniel ricciardo you're both thinking too small. show up with me. can't promise i'll have a good race or win but it'll show him!

rhea reynolds thanks guys but i'm not really up to going to races anytime soon.

lily muni he never let a man take anything from you. GO TO THE RACE!

rhea reynolds nah, not really up for it right now but i could change my mind in a few months. it's literally december!

charles leclerc i will save a spot for you regardless.

yukitsunoda it's okay, i can bite his ankles if he comes near you.

rhea reynolds i appreciate the sentiment yuki

rhea reynolds besides, i'll never date another fucking driver again.

rheareynolds posted new stories

nothing better than taylor swift to help with heartbreak who needs men when cats are much better company?

liked by lilymhe, charles_leclerc, mickschumacher and others

rheareynolds home for the holidays update: i adopted a cat, i got cheated on (i should stick to dating women), and goats hate ryan. p.s. the first picture is what i sent to max when he made fun of me for getting cheated on.

tagged: vancityreynolds

view all comments

maxverstappen33 THAT’S NOT TRUE AND YOU KNOW IT!

↳ rheareynolds you told me and i quote, “that’s what you get for dating a guy who looks like a walking orange.”

↳ maxverstappen33 i called him ernie and then a walking orange. get it right.

lilymhe my offer still stands

↳ yukitsunoda0511 mine too! i can bite ankles!

↳ rheareynolds thanks guys but i'd rather not have to bail you out of jail for assault.

user01 so did they break up? or what? the chismosa in me needs to know

user02 it's okay rhea, he didn't deserve you

user03 fuck men, am i right?

comment liked by rheareynolds

vancityreynolds you're lying to everyone blake made those cinnamon rolls, not you.

↳ rheareynolds must you ruin everything?

↳ vancityreynolds it's my job as your older brother.

georgerussell63 why get an orange cat when he's a walking orange?

↳ alex_albon because rhea is the embodiment of an orange cat

↳ rheareynolds it's true. i've been told many times

user04 love to see that loser's friends are on her side. how are you going to publicly cheat on your girlfriend?

↳ user05 but did he cheat? what if they were broken up?

↳ user06 either you can't read (no offense) or you didn't read the caption, she literally says, "i got cheated on" they were very much together. stop trying to invalidate her pain because you love l*ndo

user07 it's okay baby, you can date me instead

↳ rheareynolds thanks for the offer babes but i should stick to being single for a while ❤️

↳ user07 i'm screaming!

user08 rhea's better than me fr. i would've destroyed his car carrie underwood style.

maxfretwell going to miss your cookies. that's the worst part about all of this

↳ rheareynolds yeah cause fuck my heartbreak right?

↳ maxfretwell that's not what i meant and you know it!

↳ rheareynolds can't wait to see the gossip pages say max fretwell says rhea reynolds' heartbreak is not validated

↳ maxfretwell i take it all back this is why he cheated on you

↳ rheareynolds TOO SOON FRETWELL!

↳ user09 curse n*rris for taking this duo away from us!

taglist: @emilyval @ihateyougunthersteiner @lesliiieeeee @firetruckstuckley @cashtons-wife @landonorizzz @yoremins

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST

¡leclerc-s speaks! i was listening to say don't go while write the first half of this. hence, the reference to the song.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[archangeldyke-all]

Hello Angel!!!

Perhaps Cowboy Sev breaking older Vi and Jinx out of jail. After so many years Sev would be so rusty that she needs reader to help too. Go wild with the shenanigans they get up too. Could bring back Silco and the boys to help legally maybe. Hilarious if somehow Vi got in trouble trying to impress Caitlyn and somehow managed to get Jinx involved. Also funny if Sev and reader meet Caitlyn as Vi’a girlfriend during this break out HAHHAHA

Pls I’m obsessed with cowboy Sevika HELP ME

Thank youuuuu

this is SOOOOOO cute such a good idea i'm crying.

men and minors dni

ten years into marriage, fifteen years into your relationship, eight years with the girls, five with them legally yours, and sevika finally retires.

there was no need for her to work at the ranch in the first place. the amount of loot she'd stolen and stored in your inn (both in your room hidden beneath the floorboards and in the rafters, and buried beneath your side garden) was enough to take care of you for ten lifetimes to come. but, sevika was used to spending her day on shimmer's back, and she needed something to do with her free time once she gave up her life of crime.

but now, things have changed. sevika's ready to settle down and spend her days in the inn with you. the girls are growing up, vi being sixteen and powder being twelve-- they'll be living their own lives soon, and sevika wants to be around to keep you company as you transition into empty nesters.

shimmer died last winter. the four of you spent her last days cuddled up beside her in the stable, feeding her sugar cubes by the handful, saying your final goodbyes to sev's trusty mare. she rests behind the side garden now, marked by a big stone vi and jinx engraved.

old man ernie died too, leaving his ranch to his son. when he took over, he offered to let sev keep her job, but she declined. she was ready to retire.

she's been adjusting to retired life really well.

she loves working behind the bar in the evening, chatting with locals who stop in for a drink and swapping stories with some of your shadier guests in the in.

she's gotten really into reading-- especially smutty paperback romances.

when she gets restless cooped up in the inn, you send her out to ride the new foal-- a sweet young horse the girls decided to name teddybear.

it's been great having sev around all the time. especially for your sex lives.

speaking of your sex lives, you and sevika have been having a particularly fun week. the girls took teddybear out on a trip to a town two days ride south. they're meeting up with mylo and claggor there to catch the traveling circus. and it's summer time, which is always your slow season, and as of two days ago-- you've got no guests. you and sevika have been having a fucking blast, fucking on any and every flat surface you can find. your legs have been like jelly all week long.

it's been paradise.

"what're you smilin' at?" sevika mumbles from her side of the bed. you grin, turning on your side to stare at your sleepy wife. it's the crack of dawn, not even the rooster is awake yet. just you and the crickets, singing through the open windows.

"you're awake." you say. sevika smiles.

"i am indeed. c'mon, what's got you smilin' all pretty, darlin'?" she asks again, yawning to punctuate her question.

you scooch forward to kiss her nose, and sevika grins, her eyes scrunching closed.

"what i've been smilin' at for the past fifteen years, baby." you say. sevika chuckles.

"havin' sweet dreams about me?"

"more like flashbacks to last night." you say, waggling youreyebrows salaciously. sevika laughs.

"mmm, knew we'd break the bedframe one'a these days." sevika says with a proud little smile. you giggle and sit up on your elbows to look over at the broken bedframe stacked against the wall beside where the two of you sleep-- on the mattress on the floor.

"shit, sev that was oak, can't believe you fucked me through oak." you laugh. sevika nods cockily.

"damn right i did." she says. you giggle and fall back down to bed, snuggling against her chest. "how're you feeling?" she asks.

you snort. "well, i don't think i'm gonna be able to walk straight for a few days, and i woke up giggling, so... i'm better than i've been since our honeymoon." you say.

sevika grins, her sweet little gap makes your heart melt, and she smacks your ass.

"fuck, i love you." she sighs. you giggle and kiss her neck.

"love you too."

you guys drift off to sleep in each other's arms.

an hour later, the rooster crows, and you both wake up smiling again.

"morning." sevika mumbles. you kiss her lips.

"morning."

"i'll fetch some fresh water if you start breakfast?" sevika offers.

"will you let the chickens out?" you ask. sevika nods.

"duh." she says. you grin.

"deal."

you guys move slowly, lazily rubbing your eyes and yawning as you wash your faces and brush your teeth, stretching and kissing between each article of clothing you pull over your naked bodies, luxuriating in the slow morning all to yourselves.

sevika laughs at the limp in your step, and you pinch the bruises you left on her shoulders in revenge.

you fry up some eggs and hashbowns, watching through the window over the stove as sevika pumps fresh water from the well, watering your garden, the chickens, and finally lugging two buckets inside for the two of you to share.

you guys eat breakfast on the front porch, cuddled together on the porch swing violet 'found' for the two of you a few years ago. (you're pretty sure she stole it off sheriff marcus' front porch, but violet hasn't admitted it yet, and the sheriff's still too scared of you and sev to say anything.)

"how do you think the girls're doin'?" you ask as you sip your coffee. sevika snorts.

"i knew you were gonna ask that." she teases. you roll you eyes and sevika leans over to press a kiss to your temple. "they're fine. you know they're fine." she says. you huff.

"i know, i just miss 'em." you say. sevika laughs.

"i do, too, darlin'." she says.

sevika leans in to kiss you, and you sigh against her, quickly melting against her lips. she licks against your lips and you hum, opening your mouth for her to slide her tongue into your mouth--

"ahem!" a voice calls.

you and sevika pull apart, necks snapping to the stairs in front of you where a teenage girl stands, blushing and rubbing the back of her neck.

sevika clears her throat in embarrassment. you giggle.

"how can we help you, honey?" you ask the girl. her eyes dart up to you, quickly shooting between you and sevika, back to you, and then sevika again.

"uh..." she chokes out. she squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head, before taking a deep breath. "s-sorry to inturrupt ma'am, i just-- d-do you happen to know a mylo and claggor? or violet and jinx, percha-"

"oh fuck." sevika groans. the girl squeaks at the curse, and you chuckle. "what did those shits get themselves into now?" she asks.

she blinks. "uhm. jail, miss." she says.

you blink.

sevika's jaw drops.

the girl clears her throat. "a-about thirty miles south of here in a small town call--"

"what did they do?" sevika groans. "i trained them for every scenario, how the fuck did they get caught?!" she whines.

you blink again, spots in your vision popping up.

"uh... they shot the sheriff?" she says.

you gasp.

sevika laughs.

"shit." she says, somewhat impressed. "on purpose?" she asks, her eyebrow raising.

you feel lightheaded.

"n-no ma'am. accident. he's still alive-- but he's sentenced them to hang at the end of the week..."

that's the last thing you hear before you black out.

you wake up in bed, sevika nervously hovering over you, pressing a wet cloth to your forehead.

"wha--"

"you passed out."

"jinx and vi--" you snap up in bed, scrambling to your feet. sevika's beside you in an instant, steadying you as you're knees threaten to give out beneath you.

"it's oka--"

"sevika don't you dare say 'it's okay' to me right now!" you snap. she shuts her mouth.

footsteps start up the steps, and you look over your shoulder, where the teenager from before appears, a fresh bucket of water in her hands.

she freezes at the top of the steps, taking in the tense environment she walked in, then turning red as a tomato when she tries to avert her eyes from you and sevika, and makes direct eyecontact with the broken bedframe behind the two of you.

you would laugh at the poor, flustered girl. now though, she just reminds you a bit of the first time violet saw you and sev kiss, and that just makes you want to vomit.

"caitlyn, here," sevika starts in an irritatingly annoying voice, "was hanging out with the kids at the circus, right cait?" sevika asks. caitlyn nods.

"i live in town." she explains.

"and when they got arrested, cait was the only one who got away. violet told her to come get us, right cait?" sevika asks again. caitlyn clears her throat.

"i rode through the night. i also sent a telegraph to a mr. silco?" she says. you blink.

"right. and we're all gonna meet in town, and we're gonna figure something out, okay baby?" she asks. you gulp.

"sevika--"

"honey, i'm not gonna let anyone put a damn finger on our kids." she says firmly. you look away from the teenager to take in the steely sincerity of your wife's eyes, and you gulp. she gently reaches up to cup your face. "c'mon, have a little faith in me, darlin'" she coos, melting into a soft smile. you sigh shakily. "i'm the fuckin' weary woman of the west-- what's a little jailbreak, huh?"

you take a deep breath and lean forward to press your forehead against hers.

"we're gonna need a few horses." you say. sevika grins.

"i'm way ahead of you." she says.

grayson was happy to lend you two horses and buggies, almost crying at the thought of the girls in trouble. she promised to come over every day to care for your chickens and garden while you were away, and you thanked her profusely before riding the animals home faster than you've ever ridden-- anxious to get back.

when you arrive, it's to caitlyn and sevika waist deep in the dirt behind your garden, a few yards away from where shimmer lays. for the first time since caitlyn's arrived, you laugh.

sevika's pulls a crate out of the ground prying it open with a crowbar. as she opens the crate, she reveals dozens of sticks of dynamite, and she grins up at you with a proud smile. you giggle, and roll your eyes. caitlyn shoots out of the hole, terrified by the explosives.

"i'm gonna pack up some food for the trip." you nod to your house. "come help me kid." you say. the girl nods eagerly, sprinting away from the dynamite. sevika laughs.

you guys pack quickly, visiting the cellar for cans of food, gathering the essentials for travel, a couple blankets and quilts, a pack of matches, canteens and jugs of water. while you're folding some clothes, both for you and sevika as well as jinx and powder, you break down into tears.

caitlyn flounders around you for a few seconds, and you try desperately to collect yourself, but you can't quite manage.

the girl gently, awkwardly pats your shoulder.

you turn around and hug her impossibly close to your chest. she squeaks.

"fuck. shit." you cry. you take a few deep breaths, squeezing the girl in your arms, before letting her go. "sorry." you say, dropping your hands at your sides. "thank you." you sob. "for coming to get us."

caitlyn blinks, then wraps her arms around you, pulling you toward her this time. you giggle through your laughs against her shoulder and she gently rubs your back.

"violet told me you'd freak out." she says... "you remind me of my mom."

"oh, fuck, do your parents know where you are?" you gasp, pulling away. caitlyn laughs.

"yes." she says. you raise an eyebrow at her and she sighs. "okay, no. but they think i'm safe, at the circus, they won't be looking for me for a while." she swears.

"you stupid fucking kids." you groan.

you leave town at noon, and ride until midnight. the trip is solemn, nobody tries to talk much.

sevika's got this look in her eye, something you haven't seen in a long time. she's up to something-- something more than her usual mischievous pranks and jokes. the gears in her head are grinding, you can practically see her run scenarios and outcomes back and forth through her mind's eye.

it's a little scary-- you forgot how focused and intense she gets when she's plotting something. it's mostly hot though.

but you can't really say that-- not with caitlyn lurking. still, sevika catches your eye a couple of times and smirks, like she knows just how hot she looks as she rides beside you.

caitlyn's a good navigator-- apparently she's a junior guide up and down the river, so she knows the route to town like the back of her hand. she gets you around mountains, avoids most hills, and knows the best spots to stop for when the horses need to rest. sevika's impressed. the two of them chat over the campfire about the surrounding areas, comparing notes and shortcuts they've learned over in their travels. it's so cute it breaks your heart.

it's a dry, warm night, so you sleep beneath the stars.

you don't sleep.

sevika doesn't sleep.

you just stare at the sky while caitlyn and the horses rest.

at one point, sevika reaches over and grabs your hand. "it's gonna be fine." she says. tears well up in your eyes.

"i love you so much." you say. sevika squeezes your hand so hard it's painful, and she replies shakily.

"i love you too darlin'."

it's silent long enough for you to think sevika's fallen asleep, but then she speaks again. "betcha five bucks caitlyn's vi's girlfriend."

you burst into laughter, smacking your hand over your mouth as you laugh. caitlyn stirs beside you, and you can feel sevika's silent, mischievous laughter beside you. you nudge her with your elbow.

when you catch your breath, and caitlyn's snoring returns, you whisper to your wife. "you have way too much faith in your daughter."

she snorts.

you get to town by noon, and sevika sets you and caitlyn up in a the saloon that was the address caitlyn had telegraphed to vander and silco. she takes off to scope out the police station.

it's a pretty gritty place, and you look around it with a raised eyebrow, then look down at caitlyn. she's sitting with perfect posture, dusting off her tailored riding coat.

"you hang out in this saloon?" you ask. she blinks up at you and then sighs.

"well, no... but it's where all the shootouts in town happen!" she says. "it felt... good for planning a crime?" she tries. you laugh.

"sevika's gonna love this." you say. she grins. "what do your parents do?" you ask. caitlyn gulps.

"uh... oil?" she says.

you burst out into laughter.

"shit you're an heiress?" you ask. she nods. you shake your head. "no way vi's bagged you yet." you mumble. caitlyn blushes bright red and clears her throat.

sevika comes back before sunset, sitting beside you at the table and scrawling away in her notebook little sketches of the prison, mumbling to herself, occasionally looking up to ask caitlyn questions.

surprisingly, cait seemed to know a lot.

"do you know which cell they're in?"

"the one on the far end here." caitlyn says, circling a part of sevika's diagram.

"and who else is being held right now?"

"nobody. the sheriff's been itching for some action."

"how do you know all of this?" you ask. caitlyn blushes.

"it's good to stay up to date on local going ons." she says. you chuckle.

she's a dork, you think fondly. she's perfect for violet.

sevika returns to her drawings and you decide it's time to interrogate your daughter's possible future girlfriend.

"how exactly did the kids shoot the sheriff?" you ask. caitlyn blushes bright red, and you raise your eyebrow.

"uh. well..."

sevika looks up from her notebook, intrigued.

caitlyn gulps, then looks away. "it might've been me." she whispers.

your eyes widen.

"what?" sevika asks.

caitlyn blinks, then speaks so fast it's almost impossible to make out. "violet was showing off all the cool things she could do, and i had packed my gun to bring to the circus because they've got contests for clay duck shooting and you can win twenty bucks if you make it to the tournement and i'm a really good shot--" she sucks in a breath, tears bubbling up in her eyes "so i wanted to show off my shooting skills and vi told me to shoot the big roasted hog in the food tent and i did right through the eyes! but i didn't see the sheriff on the other side of the pig getting himself a serving, so the bullet went straight through his shoulder." she finishes, gasping for another breath.

"how did--"

"and before i could even do anything violet was already taking the gun from my hands and telling me to run and i'm so sorry--" she starts to sob.

"shit, relax, kid, it's okay." sevika says, reaching out to pat caitlyn's back. you smile. "it's fine, we're not mad." sevika says. caitlyn gasps, her eyes shooting up between you and sevika.

"you're not?" she asks. you shake your head no. "o-oh." she whispers, wiping her eyes. you ruffle her hair.

silco and vander arrive quickly after. they took the train, and they clearly left the moment they got the message-- wearing day old wrinkled clothes, no luggage, just pistols tucked in every pocket on their bodies.

silco's greeting is a gaurentee that he's going to kill the kids before the sheriff can, and vander's apologetic assurances that his husband is only joking. silco's appearance seems to ease something in sevika, and the two of them quickly fall into a hushed conversation as sevika discusses her plan with silco. caitlyn's right beside them, a little furrow in her brow as she absorbs their hushed discussions.

vander, cordial as ever, gives you a hug and presses a solid kiss to your scalp.

"how're you holding up?" he asks.

"better now that you're here." you respond. he laughs.

"can i be honest?" he mumbles. you nod. "silco's not gonna get the chance to kill the kids, i'll have already fucking done it." he whispers. you laugh. "we're not young and spry like you and sev-- we both nearly had heart attacks when we got your message." he groans. you rub his shoulder as you laugh.

"you wanna hear somethin' that'll make you laugh?" you ask. he nods.

"violet's got a crush on the girl here." you say. vander raises his eyebrow, looking over at caitlyn, who's absorbed by the diagram of the prison, pointing and mumbling to an interested and engaged silco and sevika. "an oil heiress." you say. vander chuckles.

"huh. well are the feelings mutual?" he asks. you laugh.

"they better be. violet got all our fuckin' kids arrested for her ass." you whisper. vander groans and rolls his eyes, grabbing his chest.

"oh, don't tell me these things." he begs. you laugh.

"you're lucky you don't have girls." you say.

you wait until midnight to start your plan.

you split up into three groups.

silco and vander are the horsemen, both of grayson's and cait's, plus teddybear, who they found outside the jail, wrangled up and tied to the two carts-- ready to get out of town fast once you break the kids out.

sevika's on explosives, obviously.

you and caitlyn have to find a way to communicate with the kids.

you're helping wrap a bandanna around the lower half of caitlyn's face, tugging an old hat low on her face to disguise her as best as possible. she grunts and squirms.

"quit movin'. you're a fuckin heiress, everyone knows your face. you can't be seen breakin' kids outta prison." you say. she sighs.

"fine." she grunts as you wrap a scarf over her neck.

"okay." you whisper, satisfied now that she's bundled enough to be indistinguishable. "show me this window."

caitlyn guides you around the back of the jail building, and quietly points up to a cell window about fifteen feet off the ground, iron barred.

"take the beef jerkey." you say, shoving the paper package in her hand. she pockets it, and then you crouch. "stand on my shoulders." you say. she nods, clambering on top of you.

once she's steady, you groan as you stand to your full height. with caitlyn on your shoulders, she can peek through the window.

the window, apparently, sits above the sheriff's desk-- likely where he's in a whiskey induced coma now-- sleeping away the pain of his shoulder. oppisite his desk, are the iron bars holding your children.

the sheriff's got a dog, hence the beef jerkey.

caitlyn whistles into the window. you cringe.

the sheriff snores, and the dog whines. you can make out the plop of a piece of jerkey, and then caitlyn's whispered, "hi doggie!"

you bite back your smile, and almost collapse when you hear jinx's voice.

"oh for fuck's sake-- violet!" she whispers."your stupid fucking girlfriend's here!"

you grin, tears welling in your eyes at the sound of your kid.

"caitlyn!" violet exclaims. you take a shaky breath.

"we're blowing the back wall down." caitlyn whispers. "you need to shelter on this end."

there's some shuffling as the kids wake up and run over to the oppisite wall, and you grin at the pitter patter.

the sheriff gasps, and you freeze. caitlyn bites squeaks.

and then he's back to snoring. you sigh shakily and squeeze caitlyn's ankles.

"stay there. we'll see you on the other side." she whispers, then she jumps down from your shoulders.

the two of you take off for the oppisite side of the building where sevika's waiting for the two of you.

she grabs your hand as she lights the line to the dynamite. you hold your breath. the line sizzles, sizzles, sizzles, quickly reaching the sticks at the base of the wall, until it... fizzles out.

sevika holds her breath. you hold your breath. caitlyn gasps, "oh fuck-- what do we do no--"

she's cut off by a BOOM!

the ground shakes, dust goes flying, and the wall comes tumbling down.

as the dust clears, a small fire illuminating the inside of the cell, you grin as the kids start hooting and hollaring in amazement.

"THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME!" jinx and claggor shout at the same time as they all come sprinting out of the cell.

sevika snorts, then smacks them both upside the head.

"fuckin' stealth mission, assholes!" she whisper-scolds. mylo cackles.

"sorry sevika, but the stealth went out the window with that wall!" he laughs. sevika snorts and wraps all three of them up in her strong arms.

beside you, violet gasps, tears streaming down her eyes as she reaches up to pull caitlyn's bandana away.

"you came back." she whispers dramatically. you roll your eyes at the pure corniness, and then melt at the sweet sight of caitlyn darting forward and pressing her lips against your daughter's.

it's clumsy and quick, and they're both pull away bright red and gasping. you quickly look away when violet's eyes dart toward you, pretending like you weren't looking.

it doesn't seem to matter though, because next thing you know you have an armful of violet, sobbing into your shoulder. you squeeze her tight against your chest, and press a kiss against her head.

"you're in so much fucking trouble." you whisper against her hair. she giggles between her sobs.

"i knew you'd come." she whispers. you laugh.

"duh, dumbass. we need someone to take care of the chickens every day." you say. she cackles.

a gunshot rings out, and you all jump, turning around to face the now- open cell.

the sheriff stand sin the debris, a shard of wood speared through his unshot arm, his gun held weakly in his hand at his waist.

you push violet and caitlyn away to run grabbing their hands as you sprint down the street. beside you, sevika's got mylo under her arm, and calggor's got jinx on his back as they sprint, screaming and laughing down main street.

as the sheriff chases after you, unloading his gun at you, a bullet grazes violet's arm. she gasps in pain, and you gasp in horror, and before you know what's happening you're spinning on your heel and stopping dead in your tracks, reaching for the pistol you'd tucked into your waistband this morning.

you take a deep breath, and close one eye. lining your barrel up with the sheriff's bald, sweaty face.

he gets closer. he gets closer. sevika notices you're missing behind you, screaming your name, and the sheriff's right in front of you.

you shoot, and he crumbles to the ground.

it's quiet, and then your ears start ringing, and then, as the music fades, the sound of jinx's celebratory hoots fill your ears. you grin and turn back around, jogging to catch up to your family where everyone besides jinx (whose dancing in celebration at your shot) is frozen in place and gawking at you.

you smack sevika's ass as you pass her, grabbing jinx's wrist as you continue down main street, toward where silco and vander were waiting.

"c'mon y'all, someone's gonna check in on all this commotion soon!" you call over your shoulder.

shocked laughs fill the dusty main street as you and your family flee.

the ride back to your inn is mostly spent in long lectures, hilarious re-tellings of the kids' experience in jail, and tears and kisses being pressed to cringing children's heads.

but when you get back home to your inn, on your turf, all the anxiety and stress from the journey wear off, and you can finally relax.

you set up vander and silco and the boys in three rooms. violet eagerly volunteers to host caitlyn in her room, which makes you all laugh, (jinx groans in disgust) and you allow it.

and then, after scrubbing down with a washcloth, you fall crawl into the mattress on the floor beside sevika.

she's been snoring since you got back. she woke up for dinner, then fell back asleep after. but the second your weight hits the bed, she's blinking open, a smile on her face. you snort at her.

"what's that look for?" you ask.

"y'know that was the hottest thing i've ever fuckin' seen?" she whispers. you laugh.

"oh yeah?" you ask. she nods.

"didn't think you had it in you." she says, smirking. you just shrug and wink at her.

"you woulda done it anyways, i saw that look in your eye." you say. she grins and nods.

"yeah, but i didn't even have to try. my fuckin' outlaw wife killed the sheriff for me." she says, a blush working up her cheeks. you grin.

"now you know how it feels." you say. she laughs and you dart forward to kiss her forehead.

"i love you." she whispers. "i'm gonna fuck you through the floor tomorrow morning." she mumbles as she drifts off to sleep. you laugh.

"not happenin' babe." you say, kissing her forehead. "the kids are underneath us."

sevika groans. "those stupid fuckers."

you laugh and kiss her again. "i love you, sev."

"you owe me five bucks." she says.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[saintsenara]

You mentioned fanon turning barty crouch jr. into an uninteresting character. I don't know much about what the new fanon characterisation has really done with him, but I'm curious for your thoughts on why he's a canonically interesting character. I agree that he is, but it sounds like you might have some interesting thoughts on it that are already fleshed out.

thank you for the ask, @jamesunderwater, and i'm sorry for taking so long to drag myself around to answering this.

as you may have gathered if you’ve read my views on jegulus or wolfstar, the common fanon interpretation of marauders-era characters and i don’t really get on.

this is not a new development - me and goofy fanon sirius have been beefing for over a decade at this point, i fear - but our enmity has taken on a new form since [roughly] 2020, when the emergence of what we might call the modern marauders subfandom brought with it a whole series of expectations about characters, ships, personalities, and appearances in first war stories which - let me state my position immediately - have absolutely nothing to do with the characters as they are in canon.

i could talk about sirius or regulus or james or snape or lupin until the cows come home - as, i’m sure, could many of us - but i also dislike the expectations the marauders subfandom has around its supporting cast. these characters - who largely fall under the categories of women, slytherins, or both - have names that we might recognise from canon, but they are - to all intents and purposes - original characters.

to do some marauders fan defending, i do understand the rationale behind this. hogwarts is a school, and it needs to be filled with the sort of incidental characters that lightning-era writers can pull from the canon text [shoutout to ernie macmillan, the mvp]. if you’re writing about lily, then she needs friends - why not have them be alice, marlene, dorcas, emmeline, pandora etc.?

[well, because dumbledore isn’t running a child army. it makes no sense for the entire order of the phoenix to be in the same school year - and the idea that alice is probably around ten years older than lily, that pandora is around the same age as narcissa malfoy and isn’t a pureblood, and that marlene, dorcas, and emmeline are hard-nosed ministry bitches in their fifties who can have mad-eye moody quaking with just a look is something which can be prised from my cold, dead hands.]

and if you’re writing about the epic highs and lows of high-school football going to school during a sectarian conflict, then you need some antagonists. which is to say, you need some slytherins.

the issue i have is that the three key slytherins who seem to have been elevated to principal cast in the marauders pantheon - regulus black, barty crouch jr., and evan rosier - get what can only be called the smol bean treatment. that is, that three teenagers who all canonically join a terror organisation are turned into soft and tiny babies who thought lord voldemort was just feeling silly when he said, "my aim is the eradication of the muggleborn population through violent means."

and even fics which do acknowledge that the three willingly become terrorists often go out of their way to provide justifications for this which don’t contextualise their decision [something which is important - you can’t write about snape becoming a death eater without acknowledging the way that poverty, loneliness, and a sense of hopelessness make someone an easy target of radicalisation] but which minimise it. sometimes, their violence is turned into romantic vengeance - i’ve seen a fair amount of suggestions that barty goes to torture the longbottoms because frank was the auror who killed evan. sometimes, authors imply - or even outright state - that there’s no need to see these boys as aspiring villains: voldemort is right; the class system is good and should be maintained; and purebloods [usually james, sirius, regulus, barty, evan and maybe a token woman or two] should stick together while the half-breeds and the mudbloods go hang.

this - like all aristocracy wank in this fandom - annoys me enough with regulus and evan. but it’s particularly grating when it comes to barty crouch jr. because - unlike evan, who is literally just a name in the text, and regulus, who isn’t much more - he actually has a canon personality.

and it’s fascinating. indeed, i would even go so far as to say that barty crouch jr. is the greatest villain in the harry potter series.

[my apologies to lord voldemort.]

after all, even though he’s been imprisoned under the imperius curse for over a decade, barty is still so lucid and powerful that he is able to:

produce magic capable of tricking the goblet of fire, which is treated by all the adult characters involved as unprecedented.

pull off a year-long impersonation of a man whom dumbledore evidently knows extremely well without being clocked until his mission has been successful, even though his opportunities to observe the real moody can have been virtually non-existent. he is in character within seconds of his ambush on moody’s home - after the intruder-alert dustbins are set off - and is able to persuade ministry personnel who can be presumed to have met moody personally [including both amos diggory and arthur weasley, who appear to know him not only personally, but well] that he is the real deal. he maintains his performance even under close scrutiny from the teaching colleagues he has to interact with daily at hogwarts, despite the fact that he presumably can’t get a great deal out of the real moody, since he’s having to be kept deliberately weak and docile under the imperius curse.

manipulate multiple people into become accessories to his crimes, without ever being suspected of doing so. with the hindsight of knowing who he is, the first defence against the dark arts lesson in goblet of fire, in which "moody" deliberately distresses neville by using the cruciatus curse directly in front of him, before swooping in to be the person to cheer him up so that he can plant information which will help harry win the triwizard tournament and deliver him to voldemort, is chilling. he just gets unlucky that harry has the biggest martyr complex in human history.

commit murder on hogwarts’ grounds without ever being suspected of wrongdoing.

execute lord voldemort’s plan to kidnap harry and use him in his resurrection ritual flawlessly. the plan itself may be convoluted - but dark lords are allowed to have a flair for the dramatic, as a treat - but, crucially, it works, and barty succeeds in every respect.

but, i concede, we’re talking about the adult barty here. perhaps he was once a sweetheart who went unfortunately off the rails after his father sent him to prison and then - in effect - drugged him for years. that wouldn’t be a ridiculous suggestion.

except for the fact that - canonically - the teen barty was just as clever, sly, manipulative, and - above all - ardent in his support for voldemort as his adult self.

at his trial in the early 1980s, young barty gives the performance of a lifetime. he screams, he shakes, he looks terrified of the dementors, he is pale and weak and harmless-looking, he begs his mother to help him, he pleads with his father for mercy, he maintains his innocence as he's dragged off to his cell. he gives off the impression of simply having been in the wrong place at the wrong time so well that harry is almost certain that his conviction is illegitimate. so too, it is implied, is dumbledore.

indeed, barty plays the part of the wrongfully imprisoned so well that - as canon tells us - he not only influences public opinion to be broadly in favour of his probable innocence [or, at least, his diminished culpability - sirius suggests that the widespread view was that he was probably there, but that he only ended up involved in what was clearly bellatrix’s idea because of his father’s failure to relate to him properly], but also changes public opinion against the government’s anti-death-eater strategy entirely.

following his imprisonment, his father - a man who never met an extrajudicial punishment he didn’t like, and whose ruthless approach to dealing with the death eaters in the first war [such as his use of internment for suspected terrorists and his order to aurors to shoot to kill] was, we are told, enormously popular with the wizarding public - is forced to resign in disgrace from his role as head of the department of magical law enforcement. crouch sr. is quietly shuffled off into a boring bureaucratic position, his ambitions to be minister in tatters, and his only way forward to free his son from the prison cell where he is languishing for the crime he very literally did.

[as an aside, i do think that we are supposed to read bellatrix as the ringleader of the torture of the longbottoms. but, all too often, that gets reduced to her doing everything while rodolphus, rabastan, and barty just stand there gormlessly. they were clearly performing the curses too!]

now, barty’s unusual cunning can - of course - be explained by narrative reasons. the text needs to conceal that he’s the villain [since, as with philosopher’s stone, it wants to imply that the dark lord’s faithful servant at hogwarts is snape] until the very end - and this naturally requires dumbledore to not think too hard about whether his good judy alastor is behaving even more strangely than usual.

the text also needs to suggest that he's innocent in order to properly stick the landing on the narrative role of his father - barty crouch sr. as with dolores umbridge in order of the phoenix, crouch sr. exists to show harry [and the reader] that the rot in the wizarding world was not caused by - and will not stop with the defeat of - voldemort. his ruthlessness and inflexibility, his lack of respect for due process, his astonishingly cruel treatment of winky [brutal beyond even the standard way in which wizards abuse their enslaved elves] all serve to teach harry that the anti-voldemort cause can become just as easily corrupted as the disillusioned young men in voldemort’s orbit. the suggestion that crouch sent his own son to azkaban without good reason, simply because he would not deviate from his beliefs, is an important lesson to harry about what "justice" actually means.

but, despite this, barty is also able to pull off his deception because he’s spectacularly talented. it’s not all just narrative.

and his talents are caused by characteristics which aren’t good or bad in and of themselves. he’s clearly very intelligent [he got twelve owls, the series’ benchmark for genius]. he’s hyper-observant, creative, adaptable, good under pressure, and possessed of nerves of steel. he shares these traits with other villains in the series - voldemort above all - but he also shares them with plenty of the heroes. harry, for one.

which is to say that all of his personality traits could be put to non-criminal uses. but - as with harry, who is capable of being quite sinister when he wants to be [for example, when he manipulates slughorn into giving up the horcrux memory] - they would give a non-criminal barty an edge. and this doesn’t seem to be present in his standard fanon persona - as sweet and goofy as all marauders-era men - to any great extent.

finally, there is another aspect of barty’s character which is absent from his fanon version - that he clearly has some sort of childhood trauma, but that this does not excuse any of what he does.

even though crouch sr. is right to send him to azkaban, he was clearly also a cold and distant father, who had absolutely no idea how to relate to his son.

[as another aside, this emotional negligence is bad enough without it needing to be written as having been accompanied by extreme physical and/or sexual abuse. there seems to be a real tendency in fanfiction - not only in marauders-era stuff, although the exaggeration of orion and walburga black into despotic villains is one example of this - to make childhood misery "worse", in order to justify a character’s later actions.]

voldemort demonstrably uses barty’s terrible relationship with crouch sr. [and his absolutely flagrant daddy kink] to groom him into taking the dark mark [not least because there’s otherwise no explanation for why he cheerfully informs him that he too is named after his dad], which he may very well end up taking when he’s still at school. my reading is that he’s recruited to inform on his father - since voldemort would undoubtedly wish to keep the head of the department of magical law enforcement under constant surveillance - and that this is why the dark lord pays him the attention he is so obviously lacking.

but, as with snape and regulus and draco malfoy and all the other young death eaters, barty also colludes in his own radicalisation. voldemort is a master at ensnaring recruits, sure, but he’s also a busy man. he only bothers to make the effort because the clever, creative, cunning, manipulative young man - who wishes to avenge himself on the father who never paid him attention [sound familiar?] - he finds before him is very much determined to become a spectacular part of his terrorist organisation. and stories which feature him owe it to him to give him that dark complexity of character

show the series’ best villain some respect.

[silverview]

I saw you ask sleepysuburb this, but I'm so curious to know your answer 👉👈 if you could remake any movie with reece / steve / mark playing any roles, what would it be?

oh thanks for the question bestie! 🩷 well i've posted on here before about my desire to see them in a modern english remake of bell, book & candle (1958) (ʘ‿ʘ🌸)

if you haven't seen it. it's a hell of a film. it uses witchcraft very intentionally as a metaphor for homosexuality. the main story concerns a cool new york city witch (kim novak) who loses her powers when she falls in love with a human man (jimmy stewart). honestly i didn't think of it before but it WOULD be funny to have mark in the jimmy role and i WOULD like to see his take on the human embodiment of heterosexuality

HOWEVER. the main subplot concerns another witch, nicky (jack lemmon). nicky is broke, beautiful, a delightful nuisance, and a bowtie enjoyer. in defiance of the other witches, he befriends a human man named sidney (ernie kovacs) who's researching a book about witches. sidney is a scruffy alcoholic and a total sweetheart. nicky offers to show him what witch life is all about, and they spend most of the film being cute and doing witchy stuff together.

you see the s/r vision 💖🪄✨🔮 i think this would be potentially the most fun reece in particular would ever have on an outside project

[jrob64]

Pet for Rent, Chapter 1/4 (The Meet Cute) A CS Modern AU Story

For those of you who read "Sowing Seeds of Trust", you might remember that my dog Zeke had a starring role in it. To my great heartbreak, he died of cancer last June. When we rescued him, the shelter had named him Ernie, and he will be referenced with that name in this story.

Life without a dog proved to be very lonely, so at the end of August, we rescued another dog. The sad story of the dog in this story is what really happened to our new dog. He was named Norman and we renamed him Winston, just like in the story. That's actually him in the pic set with his 'ducky'.

This was supposed to be a short, sweet story, but somehow turned into 4 chapters. Updates will be once a week.

Special thanks to my beta @hookedmom and also to @beckettj and @zaharadessert for helping me understand the football (soccer) system in England.

SUMMARY: Emma Swan tries to cheer up her heartbroken son by 'renting' a dog from the local animal shelter. When she attempts to do it a second time, she makes a mistake, and realizes the dog has been rented by someone else the same day - a very handsome man named Killian Jones.

RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)

WORDS: 7754

ALSO POSTED TO A03 & FFN

Story begins under the cut

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Emma Swan flopped down onto her sofa with a sigh. Since their beloved dog Ernie died three weeks ago, she had come to dread her eight-year-old son Henry’s bedtime. Every night when he said his prayers, he ended with, “God, please tell Ernie I love him and miss him, and please send me another dog. Amen.”

Her son knew the chances of getting a dog were slim to none because of his soccer practices and games, and Emma’s schedule for her new job at the sheriff’s station. They had no time to train a puppy.

Understanding why he couldn’t have a dog didn’t make his heart hurt any less. Her heart was just as broken, knowing the sadness and loneliness Henry was experiencing.

After decompressing for a few minutes, Emma’s searching hand located her phone on the end table. She unlocked it and opened her Discord app, selecting the icon representing the parents’ group of Henry’s second grade class. Sitting up a little straighter, she typed a message: Does anyone have ideas of how to help Henry get over the loss of his dog? He keeps praying for a new one, but it wouldn’t be fair to the dog to get one with our busy schedule.

She watched the screen intently for a couple of minutes, but when no names appeared to show that someone was answering, she tossed the phone onto the couch and went into the kitchen to load the dishwasher.

Forty minutes later, after cleaning up the kitchen, going through her nightly routine and changing into her pajamas, she went back into the living room. Television held no interest for her, and realizing she finished her last library book the previous evening, she picked up her phone to mindlessly play a game. Upon unlocking it, her screen opened to the Discord page and she saw three replies to her question.

The first two simply expressed sympathy for the loss of Ernie, but the third one offered a helpful suggestion. Have you thought about ‘renting’ a dog for a day? The animal shelter just outside of town offers that option. We did it for my mother when her Maltese died. The post ended with the web address for the shelter.

Emma immediately pulled up the site and, after searching the homepage, clicked on the tab for ‘services’. Scrolling down the list, she saw ‘Rent-a-Pet’ and selected it. As she read the description of how the program worked, she idly twisted strands of blonde hair around her index finger.

It sounded like a great compromise for their situation. For a donation to the shelter in the form of money, bags of pet food, treats or toys, one of the available animals could come home with them for several hours. The dogs and cats were guaranteed to be docile and house-trained, and could be adopted by the ‘renter’, if desired.

Clicking on the link taking her to the bios of the pets currently housed at the shelter, she filtered it to include only canines. Pictures of nearly two dozen dogs filled the screen, each more adorable and aww-worthy than the last.

Quickly ruling out any that were guaranteed to shed fur all over her house or were bigger than her son, her search was narrowed to nine prospects. She knew her rambunctious son would be keen to play outside with the dog and walk him or her to Storybrooke’s dog park, so a tiny fru-fru pup was out of the question, too. That left six.

She selected one at a time, reading about their breed and temperament. When she brought up the picture of the fourth candidate, the big, chocolate brown eyes and happy expression nearly made her heart melt.

‘Norman’ was a mixed breed and very little was known about him, because he was found tied to a stop sign in the middle of Portland, Maine. He was guessed to be a cocker spaniel mix and was approximately 1-2 years old. His black fur looked sleek and Emma knew he probably wouldn’t shed. A short video showed him romping and playing with another dog in the fenced play yard of the shelter.

Saving the page, she brought up the calendar on her phone and checked their schedule for the rest of the week. Henry had an early soccer game on Saturday, which would be over by 10:30, leaving the rest of the morning and afternoon free. Switching back to the shelter website, she hit the ‘Rent-a-Pet’ button again and began filling in the information, selecting ‘Norman’ when it gave her the choice of animals.

She decided not to tell Henry about the plan, opting to surprise him with it instead.

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“Great game, kid,” Emma complimented her son, ruffling his sweaty hair. “Your pass to Avery was a nice assist. That goal turned out to be the game winner.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Henry grinned around his mouthful of granola bar. “That’s the first time all season we beat the orange team.”

“I know, and I think that calls for a celebration, don’t you?” Emma fished her car keys out of her jeans pocket, before picking up her lawn chair and water bottle.

“Are we gonna get ice cream?” he asked, before cramming the rest of his snack into his mouth.

“You just ate a granola bar and a banana, and lunch will be in just an hour or so,” she laughed. “I have something else in mind.”

“Whaisit?” he queried, the unswallowed food muffling his voice.

“Well, I know how much you miss Ernie, and Violet’s mom told me about a program at the animal shelter that lets you rent a pet for a few hours,” she answered slowly, watching his reaction out of the corner of her eye. “So, I signed up to get a dog for you to play with until three o’clock this afternoon.”

Henry stopped in his tracks, swallowing down the rest of his snack as his eyes grew wide. “Really? You can do that?”

“Yeah, we’re scheduled to pick him up at eleven. What do you think about that?”

His exuberant shout of joy and sprint to the car was all the answer she needed.

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Emma couldn’t keep up with her son once he unstrapped his safety belt, exited the car and bounded toward the front door of the shelter. He was already ringing the little bell on the counter for service before she made it inside and chided him lightly for not waiting for her.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy hair and light blue eyes entered through a door, the barking of dogs stifled when it clicked shut behind him. He gave them a dazzling smile and greeted them warmly with a hearty ‘good morning’.

Emma reached forward to shake his hand. “Hi, I’m Emma Swan and this is my son, Henry.”

“David Nolan,” he responded, shaking her hand, then doing the same with Henry.

“My teacher’s name is Mrs. Nolan, the same as yours,” the boy told him.

“You wouldn’t happen to be in second grade at Storybrooke Elementary, would you?” David asked.

“Yeah,” Henry confirmed.

“Ah, well, that means your teacher is my wife!”

“Wow, cool!” Henry exclaimed. “She’s the best teacher I ever had!”

David’s grin grew even wider. “That’s good to hear. She tells me all about her students every evening and she thinks yours is the best class she’s ever had!”

“It’s quite a coincidence, meeting you here,” Emma commented with a smile.

“I’ll be sure to tell Mary Margaret I met the two of you. Now, what can I do for you today?”

Emma pulled her phone out of her purse, unlocked it, and tapped on the screen a few times. Then she laid it on the counter and turned it to show David. “I signed up for the Rent-a-Pet program. Here’s the email with my confirmation.”

David peered down at the screen and used his finger to scroll down a bit. “I see you chose Norman,” he commented, looking up at her.

“Um, yeah. Is he a good dog? I don’t want any messes in my house or car.”

“He’s a great dog,” he assured her, reaching back to the wall behind him to lift a leash off of a hook. “Gets along well with other dogs, seems to love kids, and is generally a very happy little guy.”

Henry bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Can we take him to the dog park? Ernie always loved going to the dog park.” His countenance dropped, a small cloud of sadness passing across his features.

David shared an understanding look with Emma. “Of course you can take him. I’m sure he will love it! Would you like to come back with me to get him?”

The boy turned to look at his mother. “Can I?”

“Sure, kid. I think I’ll come back, too, if Mr. Nolan doesn’t mind.”

“The more, the merrier,” David said cheerfully.

He waited until they joined him on the other side of the counter, then opened the door to the large room full of animal cages. Immediately, the sound of barking, howling and meows filled their ears.

“They get very excited when they know someone is coming back here. I think the animals closest to the door are spies and tell the others,” David joked, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

Emma walked behind Henry, watching him turn his head left and right to peer at the occupants of all of the pens.

“Aw, Mom, look at that little puppy! He’s so cute! Aw, that dog seems sad. I bet he doesn’t like being in a cage. Look Mom, they have cats here, too.” His litany was continuous as they slowly walked down the aisle between the enclosures.

Finally, David stopped in front of a pen and turned to them, gesturing toward the dog inside. “This is Norman. He has a sad story, but he’s kept his sweet temperament, haven’t you, boy?”

As if in answer, the black dog stood up, his tail starting to wag as he realized the man was talking about him. Henry dropped to his knees in front of the cage, placing his hands against the wire. “Hi, Norman! My name is Henry. Would you like to come home with us for a little while?” The dog’s tail was wagging so fast, his entire body wiggled. “I think he understands me, Mom!” Henry said excitedly.

As David slipped inside the pen to clip the leash to Norman’s collar, Emma asked, “Has he ever been rented before?”

“Several times,” David answered, straightening up once he had the leash attached. “He’s always done really well.” Opening the door of the kennel again, he allowed the dog to go ahead of him, out to where the boy still knelt.

“Hi, boy,” Henry crooned, running his hands over the dog’s head.

Emma bent down and stroked the sleek fur on Norman’s back and sides. “He’s so soft,” she commented.

“He appears to have the coat of a cocker spaniel,” David said, “but he’s definitely a mixed breed.” He watched the boy and dog interact for a few seconds before holding out the looped end of the leash. “Would you like to lead him out to the lobby, Henry?”

He looked up at Emma with hopeful eyes. “Is that okay, Mom?”

“How is he on a leash?” she asked David. “He won’t pull my kid’s arm out of the socket, will he?”

David laughed. “He does fairly well, but if he gets excited, he can get pretty rambunctious. He’ll be fine just going to the lobby, but you might have to walk him out to your car instead of Henry.”

“Sounds like a deal, kid,” she said, giving him a nod of approval.

Henry eagerly accepted the leash and started off down the aisle. “Come on, Norman. Come on, boy. You’re gonna like it at our house. We still have some of Ernie’s toys and balls.”

Emma and David trailed behind. “How long ago did you lose your dog?” he asked.

“Almost a month and Henry is really struggling with it. He and Ernie were best buds.”

“I’m sorry. That’s rough, especially for a kid.”

“And his mom,” Emma added. “I never realized how much I loved that dog, until he got sick and I knew we were going to lose him.”

“Hopefully, Norman will give you both a few hours of enjoyment and help ease the heartache a bit,” David said, before hurrying forward to pull the door open for Henry and the dog.

While David printed off the paperwork, Norman sniffed around Henry, who sat cross-legged on the floor, giggling when the dog licked his ears. “Ernie used to do that too, remember, Mom?”

Emma smiled down at him. “Yeah, you must have very tasty ears. Maybe you should start washing them better.”

“I won’t need to, after Norman washes them!”

She turned back to finish signing the papers. “It’s nice to hear him laughing again. He hasn’t done much of that lately,” she confided to David.

“I think this will be good for both of you and Norman. He really likes being around people. I’m very surprised he hasn’t been adopted yet.”

“Do you think there’s a reason for that?”

David shrugged. “This tends to be a slow time of the year for adoptions. Summer is over and school is back in session, so people don’t have as much time to welcome a new dog into their house.”

“That’s the boat we’re in right now,” Emma commented.

“Once it gets closer to Christmas, people will come in looking for pets to give as gifts. That’s good, but also bad, because about a quarter of them are brought back when they realize a pet is more work than they anticipated.”

“We got Ernie from the shelter when Henry was two. He was already five years old, house-trained and had all of the annoying puppy behaviors out of his system.”

“Most people want puppies instead of adult dogs, but there are a lot of advantages to getting an older dog.”

“Norman doesn’t seem to be very old.”

“I’d say at least two, but he’s pretty chill. Once he runs out of energy, he becomes a couch potato.” David collected the paperwork and tapped it on the counter to straighten it. “Well, that’s all I need from you. Norman is yours until three o’clock.”

“Yay!” Henry shouted, causing the dog to start barking.

Emma reached down to take the leash. “Don’t get him all riled up right before we put him in the car, kid.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Henry apologized. “I just can’t wait to get him home! Can he sit in the back with me?”

“Sure, but first you need to thank Mr. Nolan.”

Henry popped up from the floor and looked back at David. “Thanks, Mr. Nolan! I’ll take good care of Norman, I promise!”

“My pleasure, Henry. Have fun!” David grinned.

Mother and son exited the building, with Norman leading the way, tugging excitedly on the leash. “Slow down, pup,” Emma laughed.

Henry ran ahead to open the door of the yellow Volkswagen Beetle, sliding the front seat forward and clambering into the back. As soon as Norman reached the car, he hopped in and sat on the seat beside Henry like he’d done it every day of his life.

“Well, that was easy,” Emma commented, removing the loop of the leash from her wrist and tossing it beside the dog. After closing the door, she circled around behind the car to get into the driver’s seat. She looked into the rearview mirror and choked up at the sight meeting her eyes. Henry had his arms wrapped around Norman’s neck with his eyes closed and his head resting against the dog’s.

Emma was sure the time with Norman was going to be good for both boy and dog, but she couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when it came time to bring him back to the shelter.

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Emma was barely able to get Henry to eat when they got home, and had to reprimand him for sneaking Norman bits of his sandwich. The dog, for his part, sat politely while they ate, not begging or whining. She was impressed with his behavior, remembering how she had to break Ernie from begging at the table when they first adopted him.

Henry and Norman bonded quickly as they chased each other around the small backyard, playing with a tennis ball and squeaky toys from Ernie’s toy basket. Emma sat on their small patio, thoroughly enjoying the sounds of happy barking and her son’s laughter. She pulled out her phone and took a picture, posting it to the Discord group and tagging Violet’s mom to thank her for the idea of renting a pet.

  Just after two o’clock, Emma suggested taking Norman to the dog park before going back to the shelter. They played there for forty minutes, then the three of them returned home and piled back into the car. Once again, she caught sight in the mirror of her son hugging the dog and sighed, but instead of dreading Norman’s return, she decided to enjoy every minute of happiness it was bringing to Henry…and herself.

Their time with the dog was over all too soon. After Emma parked the car at the shelter, Henry got out of the car and trudged to the door with the leash gripped tightly in his hand. Norman seemed to sense the boy’s mood and walked slowly beside him, his head hanging low.

David was at the desk to greet them again, an understanding look at his face at the dejected look of all three of them. “Was he good for you?” he asked.

“He was great,” Emma answered, rubbing her hand soothingly over her son’s back. “Wasn’t he, kid?”

“Yeah,” Henry quietly agreed, his eyes trained on the floor.

“You know, you’re welcome to rent Norman, or any of our other dogs, anytime you want,” David said.

Henry looked up. “But what if someone adopts him?”

“Well, that would be a good thing for Norman,” Emma reminded him.

“I guess,” Henry sighed. He knelt down beside the dog, wrapping him up in another hug. “I’ll miss you, boy, but maybe I’ll see you again.” The dog licked his cheek, eliciting a small giggle. Then Henry stood and held the leash out to David. “Thank you, Mr. Nolan. I had a lot of fun with Norman.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” David said, accepting the leash and moving around the counter. Patting the dog on the head, he added, “I hope we’ll see you again, soon.”

Henry turned pleading eyes to his mother. “Can we do it again next weekend, Mom?”

“You have Avery’s birthday party next Saturday, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Henry nodded, then bit his lip in contemplation. “The next weekend, then?”

Emma laughed. “We’ll see.” She leaned down to pet the dog’s head. “Be a good boy, Norman. You’re welcome at our house anytime.”

After saying their goodbyes, they watched David take the dog toward the door leading to the back. Norman turned and gave them a sad look before following the shelter worker through it, tearing at Emma’s heart even more.

She swallowed hard and said, “Come on, kid. Let’s go home.”

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The sadness soon wore off and for the next several days, Henry talked almost incessantly about all of the fun he had with Norman. Emma checked their schedule and saw that Henry had another early game three weeks later, which would be the last game of the soccer season. She relayed that news to Henry, asking him if he wanted to rent Norman again that day, and was answered with a very enthusiastic ‘YES!’

She nearly forgot to make the reservation, only remembering three days before, while waiting to pick Henry up from practice. Quickly, she pulled up the website and filled out the form, glancing up often to see if Henry was coming off the field because she always liked to meet him as soon as he did, instead of waiting for him in the car.

Emma was especially glad they decided to rent Norman Saturday, since Henry’s soccer team lost their final game by one goal. His downcast look was soon replaced with excitement when she reminded him that they would be going to the shelter.

When they arrived, he bounded out of the car and waited impatiently for his mom to join him, before practically sprinting to the door. It took a couple of minutes before David emerged from the back, beaming a smile when he saw them waiting at the counter.

“Henry! Emma! I’m very happy to see you again!”

“We’re here to get Norman,” Henry said excitedly.

A puzzled look crossed David’s face. “I’m sorry, but Norman is already being rented by somebody else today,” he informed them.

“What?” Henry asked, a slight tremor in his voice. Then he turned to Emma. “But Mom, you said we would be getting Norman.”

Emma was already pulling the email up on her phone. “There must be some mistake, Mr. Nolan. I reserved Norman when I filled out the form. See?”

She turned her phone for the worker to see it. David looked at it carefully, then pointed to the screen. “It looks like you didn’t ask for a specific dog.”

“I didn’t?” she questioned, then looked at her phone more closely, her heart dropping when she saw the blank space beside the ‘requested animal’ inquiry. “Oh, Henry. I’m so sorry. I was in a hurry when I filled it out and I must have missed that question.”

“We have several other dogs,” David consoled. “I’m sure you’ll have just as much fun with one of them.”

“No I won’t,” Henry pouted. “I only want Norman.”

“Henry…” Emma started, but was interrupted when the door behind her opened.

“Good morning, Dave,” said a deep voice with a distinctive British accent.

Emma turned to see the newcomer and nearly swallowed her tongue. The man standing before her had to be a mirage, because surely someone that handsome didn’t really exist. He had a lean physique clad in dark jeans and a maroon henley, with a tantalizing view of chest hair peeking out of the unbuttoned neckline. A black leather jacket completed his ensemble. His chiseled jawline was covered with a pleasing amount of scruff and his dark, windblown hair was falling over his forehead. He sported a wide grin and, between that and his deep blue eyes, Emma was mesmerized.

She was suddenly very aware of her own appearance. Henry’s early game meant she had thrown on a pair of sweatpants, donned an old hoodie and stuffed a beanie over her barely brushed hair that morning. Her face was free of makeup, unless you counted a few stray flecks of mascara that stubbornly refused to come off when she washed her face the previous evening.

“Hey, Killian,” David greeted.

The man’s - Killian’s - eyes had settled on Emma, a glint of curiosity evident in them.

“Oh, um, come on Henry,” she said, after several moments of silence. “Let’s get out of this man’s way.”

“But Mommmm…” he whined.

Emma put her hand on his shoulder and guided him away from the counter. “We’ll figure something out, kid.”

“I’m in no hurry, Miss,” Killian began.

“No, it’s okay,” she hurried to assure him. “I’m afraid I created a problem that might take a while to straighten out, so please, go ahead.”

“In that case, thank you very much,” he smiled. Turning his eyes to David, he asked, “Is Winston ready?”

Emma was surprised to see the genial shelter worker furrow his brow at the other man. “Why do you insist on calling him that?”

Killian shrugged. “He looks like a Winston to me, and he answers to that name when he’s at my house.”

David glanced at Emma and Henry and opened his mouth to say something, but apparently changed his mind. Grabbing a leash off of a hook, he said, “Give me a minute,” then he pushed the door open and disappeared into the back.

“Are you adopting a dog today?” Henry asked Killian.

“Alas, no. I just moved into a small apartment here three months ago and am still trying to get everything organized and put away. Being in a new town has been a bit lonely at times, so I’ve been coming here now and then to borrow a dog for a few hours.”

“That’s why we’re here, but somebody is taking the dog I want,” Henry grumbled.

“Henry, that’s enough,” Emma reprimanded. “You haven’t even looked at any of the other dogs.”

“None of them will be as good as Norman.”

Killian’s brows raised. “Did you say Nor-”

Just then, the door behind the counter opened and David came through, trying to control a very excited dog.

“Norman!” Henry cheered, dropping to his knees. The dog started jumping toward him, wildly licking his face as soon as he reached the boy.

“I thought you said he was already rented today,” Emma questioned David.

“He is,” he replied, looking pointedly at Killian.

Emma followed his gaze and saw the other man watching the interaction between Henry and the dog with a sheepish look on his face. The pieces began to click together and she asked, “Wait a minute - is Norman the dog you’re renting today?”

“Aye,” Killian confirmed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Looks like we’re here for the same dog.”

“But you called him by another name,” Emma continued.

“He’s the dog I’ve rented every time and he just doesn’t seem like a Norman to me, so I started calling him Winston,” Killian explained.

All three adults stood looking at the whirlwind of fur jumping all over Henry, who was giggling so much, he could hardly catch his breath.

Finally, Killian spoke. “It seems as though Win-, I mean, Norman, has made his choice. Please let Henry and…his mother have the dog today, Dave.”

“Emma,” she informed him. “My name is Emma Swan, and you don’t have to do that. You had him reserved first. Besides, Henry needs to learn he can’t always have his way.”

“I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my time with the dog, knowing how sad it would make Henry,” Killian responded. He took a step forward and offered Emma his hand to shake. “I’m Killian Jones, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma.”

As they shook hands, David cleared his throat. “Um, I have an idea of how to work this out. It’s a nice day, so why don’t all of you take Norman to the dog park together?”

Emma and Killian both whipped their heads around to stare at him. He seemed to shrink back a bit before stammering, “I mean, that way you could all spend time with him and get to know each other at the same time. You’ve been saying you’d like to meet more people in Storybrooke, Killian, and that’s where Henry and Emma live.” Looking at Emma, he added, “I’ve gotten to know Killian pretty well because he sings in the church choir with me and Mary Margaret. He’s a good guy.”

Emma slowly turned her eyes back to the very handsome man whose hand she suddenly realized she was still holding. She dropped it quickly, as she felt a blush heating her cheeks. Then she looked at Henry, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman sprawled across his lap. He was looking up at her with hope in his eyes.

Meeting Killian’s gaze once again, she asked, “What do you think?”

“I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position, Emma.”

“You wouldn’t have to go all the way back into Storybrooke,” David said. “There’s a small dog park at the end of the walking path, where a lot of people take dogs they’re thinking of adopting.”

“Please, Mom?” Henry pleaded. “Norman would like that, wouldn’t you, boy?”

Emma took a look at the pair and groaned, “It’s bad enough when you use the puppy dog eyes on me, kid. Now you’ve got the dog doing it, too.”

Killian chuckled lowly, the sound of it making Emma’s stomach flip in a very pleasant way. “I would hate to disappoint the two of them, so I’m game if you are, lass.”

Emma chewed her lip in contemplation for a few seconds, before saying, “Okay, but on one condition - you let me pay half of the rental fee.”

“I already paid the fee online,” Killian said.

“So did I, so I guess that takes care of that.”

“Not really,” David said. “You both paid, but you’re only renting one dog. I should reimburse each of you half of the fee.”

“Keep it,” Emma and Killian answered at the same time, then both laughed.

“The shelter can always use a little extra money, can’t it, Mr. Nolan?” Emma asked.

“Please call me David. And of course we can, if you’re both sure you don’t mind.”

As soon as they affirmed their answer, David walked around the counter and picked up the end of the leash. Handing it to Emma, he said, “In that case, Norman-slash-Winston is yours for the next four hours. You can bring him back sooner, if you like, but I’m sure he’s going to love getting out for a while. Oh, and if you get hungry, there’s usually a couple of food trucks near the dog park on Saturdays. Have fun!”

Emma and Killian thanked him, then went out the door with Norman straining at the leash, and Henry skipping along beside him. They quickly found the sign marking the path and started walking it.

After several paces, Killian turned to Emma and asked, “Is it me, or do you feel like David just set us up?”

“One hundred percent,” Emma laughed.

“How long have you known him?”

“David?” she questioned. At his hum of affirmation, she said, “Henry and I rented Norman three weeks ago and that was the first time I met him. David, I mean, not Norman. Well, it was the first time we met Norman, too. His wife is Henry’s teacher. Again, I mean she’s David’s wife, not Norman’s.” She knew she was rambling, but the thought of spending several hours with the gorgeous stranger was making her nervous.

Killian laughed. “That’s a relief. I borrowed Win-, uh, Norman three times and he never once mentioned being married.”

It was Emma’s turn to laugh - mostly because what he said was funny, but also in relief that he responded to her embarrassing prattling with humor, instead of judgment.

“So, if Dave just met you, he probably doesn’t even know if you’re married or dating anyone. That was a little presumptuous of him.”

“Are you fishing for information, Mr. Jones?” Emma teased.

“Killian will do,” he grinned. “And…perhaps?”

Before she could answer, Henry ran back to join them. “Can I take Norman, Mom? He’s walking really well on the leash, so I don’t think he’ll yank my arm out of the socket.”

She looked at Killian, who raised an eyebrow with a bemused look on his face.

“That’s something I said when we picked Norman up the last time,” she explained. Handing the loop of the leash to Henry, she said, “Don’t get too far ahead of us, kid.”

“We won’t,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Emma turned her attention back to the man beside her. “To answer your non-question Killian, no, I am not married or dating anyone. It’s just Henry and me, and always has been. When I told his father I thought I might be pregnant, he didn’t even stick around long enough to find out if I was or not.”

Killian absorbed this news for a few moments before responding, “If you don’t mind me saying, it sounds as if the two of you might be better off without someone like that, anyway.”

“Oh, definitely. Henry is more mature at eight than his sperm donor was as an adult. I was young and foolish, but I had to grow up fast once I became a single mother.” She watched her son trying to get Norman to walk beside him, then turned to look at Killian. “Sorry, that is a lot more information than I’m sure you wanted to know.”

“No need to apologize, Emma. I did ask, in a roundabout way.”

“So what’s your story? Did you move here from England, or am I misreading your accent?”

“You got it right,” he chuckled, then took a deep breath. “There was nothing left for me in England. My brother moved here soon after our mother died two years ago, and once I found out my girlfriend was actually a married woman, I needed a fresh start.”

“Ouch,” Emma commented.

“Aye, and now I’ve probably shared more than you wanted to know.”

“We’ll call it even, and promise to talk about much lighter subjects for the rest of the day,” Emma said.

“Deal.”

“You said your brother moved here. Does that mean he lives in Storybrooke?”

“Aye, he followed his heart and it led him straight to this quaint little town.”

“Who does he date, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He’s engaged to the town librarian, Belle French.”

“Liam is your brother? I guess I should have figured that out since your last name is Jones.”

“It’s a very common name, lass. Yes, Liam is my brother. I gather you know him?”

“Belle is one of my best friends, so I know him through her. She used to babysit for Henry quite often, when I was a waitress at Granny’s.”

“Ah, the famous Granny’s Diner!” Killian exclaimed. “I visit that establishment frequently. She makes the best lasagna.”

“I think you meant to say the best grilled cheese and onion rings,” Emma grinned mischieviously.

“I’ve yet to try those particular delicacies,” he smirked.

“Try them,” she advised. “I guarantee you’ll love them.”

Looking ahead, they saw they were nearing the dog park and picked up their pace. They caught up with Henry and Norman just before reaching the entrance. There were about a half-dozen dogs running around the park, some loose and others on leashes.

“I think it would be a good idea for Mr. Jones to take Norman before we go in,” Emma told Henry. “He’ll be able to control him better if he gets too excited.”

“Okay,” Henry said, willingly handing over the leash.

“Thanks, lad,” Killian smiled.

Henry went through the first gate, holding it open for his mom, followed by Killian and Norman. When they were all in the buffer zone, Henry opened the next gate leading into the main part of the park.

“You’re raising quite the gentleman, Emma,” Killian commented, after he entered with the dog.

“He has his moments.”

They all watched Norman as he began sniffing around excitedly, then pulling on the leash when he noticed the other canines sharing his space. He nearly yanked Killian off of his feet with his enthusiasm to meet new friends.

The next twenty minutes were spent chasing the dog and trying to settle him down. After a few of the other owners left with their animals, Henry found a tennis ball and engaged Norman in a game of fetch. The adults sat on a bench to observe the pair, laughing at the clumsiness of the dog.

Emma noticed Killian rubbing his shoulder. “Alright there, Jones?”

“I think he might have pulled my arm out of the socket, Swan,” he quipped.

“Very funny, smart guy,” she said, making him laugh again. They watched for a few more minutes before Emma asked, “Do you have a job in Storybrooke? I started working at the sheriff’s station three months ago and I don’t remember seeing you around town.”

“I’m an architect. I was able to keep my job with the firm in England by working online and attending meetings with clients and my colleagues via Zoom. All of my time is spent in my office at home. It’s not ideal, but I appreciate my boss being willing to make concessions for me.”

“Do you plan to get a job here eventually?”

“Aye, if I decide to stay.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I’m used to the hustle and bustle of a big city. Living in Storybrooke has been quite an adjustment.”

“I get that. We moved here from Boston when Henry was two. Granny’s granddaughter, Ruby, was our neighbor there, and when she decided to move back, she talked me into coming with her. At first, I had a hard time getting used to the peace and quiet. That was one reason why I adopted Ernie - just to have a little more noise in the house.”

“Ernie?” Killian questioned.

“Oh, he was our dog. We had him for six years, but he died a couple of months ago.” She pulled her phone out of the pouch of her hoodie and swiped to reveal her lock screen. “This is a picture of Henry with him.”

“Beautiful animal,” Killian commented sincerely, taking in the photo of the brown and white spaniel. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Emma sighed, locking her phone and returning it to the pocket. “Henry grew up with him and he’s had a really hard time with it. Someone suggested renting a pet from the shelter to help him work through it, and that’s how we ended up renting Norman.”

“They seem to really like each other.”

“Yeah, they got along great the first time. That’s why I signed up to get him again, but I was in a hurry when I filled out the form and forgot to ask for a specific dog.”

“Ah, that explains the mix-up,” Killian remarked.

Another half hour passed while they chatted easily, until Henry came over and flopped down on the ground, quickly joined by Norman. “I’m hungry, Mom. Can we get something to eat?”

“Sure, kid. Put Norman back on his leash and we’ll go find those food trucks Mr. Nolan mentioned.”

They soon located the food trucks just down the sidewalk from the park. After discussing their options, they decided to get pulled pork sandwiches from the barbeque place. It was obvious that people who took their pets to the dog park frequented the food trucks, because each one had bowls of water set out in front of them and containers of dog biscuits on their condiment tables.

While they waited for their food, Henry tried to teach Norman to sit, rewarding him with pieces of the biscuits when he obeyed.

“He’s very good with him,” Killian noted.

“He prays for another dog every night, but our schedule is so busy right now. Plus, it’s such a big responsibility and I’m not sure Henry is ready for it. I might be wrong about that though, seeing how he is with Norman.”

After eating, they followed the sidewalk a little further and spotted a playground. Emma and Killian sat on a bench, with Norman sitting between them as they watched Henry play on the equipment.

“You know, we’ve lived in Storybrooke for six years and I never knew this playground existed,” Emma commented. “We don’t come this way very often, because whenever we go out of town, we take the road going south.”

“It appears to be fairly new,” Killian observed. “Perhaps they constructed it when they built those apartments over there, because they don’t look like they’ve been there very long.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I remember when they were being constructed a couple of years after we moved here, which means they’re less than five years old.”

They lost sight of Henry for a few seconds when he climbed a ladder up into a tower. Suddenly they heard him shout, “Hey, Mom! Look what I found!” and saw him coming down a twisting slide with his arms over his head, clutching a tattered looking soccer ball.

He landed at the bottom and came running over to them. “Someone must have forgotten this at the top of the tower. Wanna kick it around with me?”

“Sure, kid,” Emma answered, hopping up from the bench. “It looks a bit deflated. Are you sure it’s even going to roll?”

“It’ll be fine,” he assured her. Placing it on the ground, he gave it a kick and watched it roll across the grass. “See?”

A black streak flew past him, with Killian following close behind shouting, “Wins-, I mean, Norman! Come back here!”

The dog ignored him, but stopped when he got to the soccer ball. He was trying to pick it up in his mouth when the three humans reached him. Killian was able to kick it away from him, directly to Emma, who stopped it with her foot, then booted it over to Henry. Norman ran from one to the other, in hot pursuit of the elusive ball.

The ‘keep away’ game kept them entertained for a long time. They ran, shouting instructions to each other and laughing until all of them were completely out of breath. Norman was able to intercept some of their passes, but they always managed to get it away from him before he was able to pick it up and run off.

Finally, Emma declared that she had to take a break. Picking up Norman’s leash, she said, “I think we should take him back to the food trucks to get a drink and buy a couple of bottles of water.”

“Aww, Mom,” Henry complained. “I’m not ready to go yet. Can’t I stay here? Killian will stay with me, won’t you, Killian?”

“First of all, you should call him Mr. Jones, and secondly, you’re putting him on the spot, which isn’t cool,” Emma admonished.

Henry looked appropriately chagrined. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones.”

“Thank you, Henry, but if I may be so bold, I don’t mind you calling me Killian. That is, if it’s okay with your mother.”

Henry looked to his mom, who considered for a few seconds, then gave him a nod of approval.

Killian put his arm across Henry’s shoulders and walked him the short distance to where Emma was standing. “I’d be happy to go get the water, Emma.” He took the end of Norman’s leash from her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

While he was gone, Emma sat on the bench watching Henry continue to kick the soccer ball around. Killian and Norman returned a few minutes later, handed her a bottle of water and sat down beside her.

“Do I owe you anything for this?” Emma asked, unscrewing the lid.

“Not at all. I think I can afford to buy a lovely lass a bottle of water.”

She refrained from rolling her eyes at his use of the adjective, still rueing the fact she met such a handsome man while looking like she just rolled out of bed. As she was getting ready to take a drink, Henry kicked the ball and sent it sailing over their head, causing Emma to duck and spill some of the water in her lap.

Henry ran over, stopping in front of her. “Oops. Sorry, Mom. I was trying to kick it at the teeter-totter.”

Emma brushed at the water droplets, looking around to locate the teeter-totter, which was at least twenty feet away from the bench. “Not even close, kid.”

Killian stood up. “Perhaps I could give you some pointers, lad. I was a rather good football player when I was younger .”

Henry’s forehead creased in confusion. “I play soccer, not football.”

Killian chuckled as Emma explained, “Killian grew up in England and over there, soccer is called football. They call what we play ‘American football’, don’t they, Killian?”

“Aye, lass. Sorry to confuse you, Henry.”

“Oh, I never knew that. So, how good were you?”

Killian rubbed a finger behind his ear, ducking his head a bit. “I played in a semi-professional league for a couple of years and actually tried out for a professional club, before I decided to go to Uni and become an architect instead.”

“Wow! Cool!” Henry exclaimed. “You probably know even more about soccer than my coach!”

Emma laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he knows a bit more than a volunteer coach for a youth league team.” She took the dog’s leash back from Killian. “Norman and I will sit this lesson out.”

Killian attempted to wink at her. “As you wish, Milady. Come on, lad. We’ve got work to do.”

She smiled fondly, watching the two of them passing the ball back and forth for a while, before pulling out her phone to catch up on her social media apps.

When she looked up a few minutes later, she saw Killian giving Henry instructions for controlling the ball as he dribbled it down the field. Apparently, they were using two trees as the goal and Henry was moving toward them quickly, while trying rather unsuccessfully to keep the ball under control. When he kicked it from quite a distance away, the ball hit one of the trees and ricocheted away.

Killian went to retrieve the ball and took it back to where Henry was waiting. He squatted down in front of the boy and began talking to him, gesturing now and then to different parts of the field.

Henry listened intently, nodding once in a while. When Killian finished speaking, he stood up and did a short demonstration of how to move the ball back and forth from foot to foot. Then he patted the boy’s shoulder, walked the ball further away from the trees and set it down.

Henry lined himself up behind the ball and looked up at Killian. After getting a reassuring smile from him, Henry started dribbling the ball across the ground with shorter, more controlled kicks, while Killian jogged beside him, shouting encouragement. This time, he got the ball much closer to the trees, before giving it a powerful kick that sent it shooting right between them.

Killian whooped as Henry raised his arms in victory, giving a triumphant cheer. What Emma saw happen next put a lump in her throat. Henry flung his arms around Killian’s waist, hugging him tightly, and Killian returned the hug, rubbing his hand over her son’s head as he looked down at him with a proud smile on his face.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

NEW TAG LIST:

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[whispering-about-the-tmnt]

Can I get a quick summary of your thoughts/opinions on the 4 shows and the different movies? :3

Personally I'm a big fan of 2012 and Rise, and 2003 is good too but just never landed as much with me but I think I gotta give it another shot tbh. And I respect to 80's show, but not a big fan of cartoons durring that time as a whole.

And I love the 1990 movie, and the 2007 movie has amazing parts but as a whole is just pretty decent, and I absolutely love Mutant Mayhem :3

But it's always great stumbling across another tmnt fan while just scrolling my dash

Ah! Thank you for the ask!

I'll do them in chronological order, and I'm sorry but this is going to be long!

1987 - My first intro to the Turtles, way back when the show first aired! I totally fell into the world of Ninja Turtles back then, and wanted to consume everything having to do with them. I had posters all over my walls, toys, clothing, hats... you name it, I either had it or wanted desperately to get it. I was so into them that my dad bought me the first four (colorized) graphic novels of the original comics, and I still have them to this day. And I still love the cartoon! I accept now that they are kinda silly, but that gives them a certain charm. They were a huge part of my childhood, and when they came out on DVD I introduced my kids to them, as well. Honestly, I am who I am today because I happened to come across the show on a tiny little portable black and white TV while we were camping...

1990 - The first "event movie" I ever experienced! I remember how hyped I got when the first ads came out for it, with the tag line "Hey Dudes, This Is No Cartoon"... and how I told my dad that I wanted to move back to North Carolina (we were living in Massachusetts at the time) because I heard that they were filming it there (we didn't move, of course!). I also distinctly remember how excited I was waiting in line with crowds of people at Showcase Cinemas in Springfield, MA. I saw the movie twice in theaters (the first time I ever did that), and many, many times on tape. When I had kids, we all watched it together on DVD (usually while eating pizza). I love the gritty look and story line; and it was actually interesting to see, for the first time, the "rivalry" between Raph and Leo, which would later become a huge part of the franchise as a whole. In general, the movie represents the Turtles pretty well, though Mike and Don did kind of get pushed to the side (which has also, unfortunately, become a major aspect of the franchise). All-in-all, though, it remains one of my favorite movies ever.

1991 - The second TMNT movie (The Secret Of The Ooze) wasn't bad, in my opinion, but it never had as large a part in my life or psyche as the first movie. It was a bit silly, a bit slow... but it had Ernie Reyes Jr. in it, and I had a HUGE crush on him. In general, it was good, and I liked their new lair in the subway, but it was... just okay. I did love Tokka and Rahzar, though!

1993 - It may seem strange, but even with the costume downgrade and slapstick reliance and a bit of a silly story line, I enjoyed the third movie more than the second! For one thing, Casey was back (and I loved his apparent ancestor, Whit). For another, it was nice to see the Turtles out of their element, but also being accepted by people. There were some nice heroic moments in there, too, like Mikey and Leo saving Yoshi. It also made me wonder if the Turtles would, at some point in the future, go back even further and defeat Norinaga's ancestor, leading to the painting that was shown repeatedly in the movie. Oh, and I totally headcanon Mitsu and Kenshin being Hamato Yoshi's ancestors.

2003 - My favorite of the TV shows! I love how they can be gritty and serious or silly and playful. Their lair is amazing, and they have plenty of friends, but still are separated from humanity. I like the relationships the Turtles have between each other, and also how each of their personalities are distinct and add to the group. There are plenty of standalone episodes, but they all come back around and tie into the series as a whole -- and character arcs like Leonardo's 4th season self-loathing and recovery are the kind of thing I eat right up. All things considered, the series is my gold standard for the franchise, and especially for the Turtles' and Splinter's personalities.

2007 - Visually, it was great! I loved the voice acting and the atmosphere. However, they leaned a bit too hard into the aforementioned Leo & Raph rivalry (although the rooftop fight scene was amazing). I would have liked for Don and Mike to have a larger part in the story (although Don did do his techie thing and figure out what was going on, it was sort of a non-event). I did like the eleventh-hour Karai and Foot team-up with the good guys, though! Unfortunately, I am compelled to mention that Splinter in that movie is... not my favorite.

2012 - Completely honestly, I am an outsider to this series, and all that I know of it I have absorbed through Tumblr Osmosis. That meaning, although I do know a lot about it, I have never actually watched a full episode. It is my 12-year-old daughter's favorite version, however, so on her behalf I will be giving it a thumbs-up 👍🏼

2014 / 2016 - Bundling the two Bayverse movies into one, because I will be honest and say that the line between them blurs for me sometimes (not in a bad way, just like... they flow into one another in my mind). I will admit that I put off watching them for a long time because I disagreed with some of the creative decisions (I'll just leave that there), but when I watched them they turned out to be not as bad as I feared. Their lairs were fitting, and so were their personalities (even if Leo is occasionally a bit my way or the highway). Really, though, I don't have too much to say about them, except that some of the slapstick and more cartoony action tends to draw me out of the moment. Not my favorite TMNT movies, but not horrible. There's potential there.

2018 - ROTTMNT is another series that I haven't actually watched, and which I have gathered most of my knowledge on from Tumblr. However, I did watch the movie and enjoyed it very much! Honestly, the only reason I haven't watched the series yet is because I already have enough TMNT versions bouncing around in my head and I know if I watch it I will want to write fics for it, and I already have enough on my plate for the time being (meaning I will probably get a bunch of my WIPs done, then watch the series!). That having been established, I do like the way the Turtles are different species, and the overall exuberance of the series as a whole is a delight (again, from an outside perspective, but valid regardless!). Splinter's backstory is unique and interesting, and his relationship with his sons is enjoyable!

2019 - Batman Vs. TMNT is, without a doubt, one of my favorite TMNT movies ever! I loved the style, the atmosphere, the fight choreography, the relationships... everything. I also like how it earned that PG-13 rating (violence, swearing... you know... original Mirage Turtle stuff). It was nice how each Turtle got to shine, and how they each got a member of the Batfam to cling to. And Leo's fight with Ra's al Ghul is perhaps my favorite TMNT battle ever. I know it is probably too much to hope for a sequel, but I am nothing if not a cockeyed optimist!

2023 - Mutant Mayhem was fun! It was nice seeing the Turtles portrayed as actual teenagers, complete with gratuitous pop culture references. The animation style was interesting (in a good way!) and the voice acting was spot-on. I loved the soundtrack, too, and I had "What's Going On" stuck in my head for days after I watched the movie! The fact that the Turtles got accepted by humans at the end was nice, even if my preferred version of them is as outcasts; and their relationship with Splinter was believably complicated. I am excited to see how the story continues in TOTTMNT!

Is that all of them? I think that is all of them! Sorry this was so long, but I have a lot of feelings on the subject!

[pippytmi]

Hey there! I absolutely loved your Kacy Post Breakup AU stories. I was wondering if you could write "Cop AU where I've been undercover for years" or the one with the ring. It would make my day, but seriously, no pressure at all!

(this is. 100% an excuse for me to write a kacy + fast & furious au)

///////

The first time Kate gets a breakthrough while undercover, it’s in the form of a cryptic text which only reads: meet me at the bar. 2 PM.

Jane Tennant’s bar is the worst-kept secret of the street racing community, and though Kate has been there dozens of times already, being invited is a game-changer. And being invited by Jane Tennant herself? It might as well be a neon sign—Kate is in. This could be the invitation that can crack the whole case wide open.

But with every push, there’s the demanding pull from the universe which demands equilibrium, because when Kate walks into the bar none other than Lucy Tara is the one behind the counter.

Their eyes inevitably meet. Kate tries to smile; Lucy only stares back, expression carefully blank, and Kate’s smile falls.

“Hey, Whistler.” Ernie—Lucy’s best friend—is the only other patron in the bar, and he makes no attempt to hide his obvious surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Tennant asked me to come,” Kate says, uncomfortably placing her hands in her pockets as she walks over. “Is she here?”

“She’s in the back,” Lucy answers for Ernie. “You can wait for her here.” It’s not a suggestion, so Kate slowly takes a seat. Without asking, Lucy pours her a club soda, and Kate accepts it gingerly.

“Thank you,” she says, but Lucy makes no indication that she’s heard, just turns and continues talking to Ernie about whatever they had been discussing before Kate arrived. Kate only catches a few words here and there, something about slashed tires and mangled gear shifts, before she tunes them out and starts scrolling through her phone instead.

That is, until Ernie says, “Wow, you went on an actual date?” and just like that, Kate’s stomach twists into itself. “Let me see. Hello Skylar…” He starts swiping through Lucy’s phone, which Lucy only makes one halfhearted attempt to steal back. “Points for the can’t wait to see you again text. I like that there’s a heart emoji, too. Carla is always saying something about heart emojis and kind auras.”

Lucy shakes her head. “I call bullshit,” she says. 

“I might be paraphrasing a little. But you get the point.” Ernie lets Lucy snag her phone back, and she’s laughing as she cradles it to her chest, face alit with such joy that Kate’s stomach twists for a whole new reason.

All Kate can do is drink in the sight of that joy, utterly helpless—helpless to the way Lucy’s eyes crinkle at the corners, the softness of her smile, the genuine mirth that makes her whole body shake when she laughs. Suddenly, Kate wishes her drink was something stronger. 

Thankfully, Jane pushes her way into the front from the mysterious back door, and Kate welcomes the chance to redirect her attention. “Thanks for coming on such short notice, Whistler,” Jane says, leaning over the side of the bar next to Lucy. “Can I get you a beer?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine with soda,” Kate declines.

Jane smiles in an unnerving way, like she knows something Kate doesn’t. “I heard about the race yesterday.” She tilts her head towards Ernie and Lucy, effortlessly inviting them to join the conversation. “Ernie wouldn’t stop talking about it, actually.”

“It was glorious,” Ernie says, nodding vigorously towards Kate. “Kai’s still sulking about it, but hey. All’s fair in love and…automobiles…” 

Lucy winces. “Oh, you need to workshop that one.” 

“I know,” Ernie sighs, dejectedly sipping from his little straw in whatever tropical mixed drink he’s been nursing.

Jane pointedly clears her throat and they both shut up. Kate would be in awe of how Jane commands a room like that under any other circumstances, but then Jane is surveying Kate again, one eyebrow quirked but the rest of her face inscrutable. “I’m not trying to poach you from Curtis, but I do want to make you an offer.”

Kate nearly holds her breath. “What kind of offer?”

“Work for me when you’re not working at Curtis’s,” Jane says simply. “I can always use a fast driver on my team. We make deliveries from time to time—special cases. The pay per run is guaranteed to be more than whatever Curtis is paying you.”

“Deliveries for the bar?” Kate asks, and Tennant gives her that secret smile all over again.

“Among other things,” she says. “Are you in?”

For a single, fleeting moment, Kate glances at Lucy. She doesn’t know what she’s looking for—not even sure what reaction she wants. When Lucy gazes impassively back, though, Kate gets a sinking feeling in her stomach which she can’t possibly rationalize. 

“Definitely,” Kate answers at last, trying to feign as much enthusiasm as she can.

Jane doesn't seem to notice the pause. Or at least, she doesn't question it. “You’re family now, Whistler,” she says, sealing the deal with a firm handshake. “Lucy will give you all the details about the next job.”

“Me?” Lucy blurts out, panicked, before she quickly tries again with: “Boss, I’m sure Kai or Jesse could do a much better job.”

“Your shift’s over, isn't it?” Jane asks.

“Yeah…?” Lucy trails off like she isn't sure what the right answer is.

“Then it works out, you're already here,” Jane says. “I’m sure Kate can give you a ride home. You can discuss everything on the way.” There it is again: the unquestionable authority in her voice, the kind that means Lucy doesn’t try to argue.

So that's how Kate and Lucy end up alone—sitting in the flashy red sports car which was previously seized at a crime scene—in complete silence. Kate doesn’t start the car, and Lucy doesn’t ask her to. Through the window, Kate sees Kai and Jesse pull up in a blue pickup truck, but Lucy doesn’t even comment on that.

Kate clears her throat, finally. “If you want one of the guys to take you home, you can go.”

“One of the guys?” Lucy repeats, shakes her head disbelievingly. “Wow. Already jumping right in, aren’t you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Lucy won’t face her, just keeps her eyes firmly on the window. “This is your dream, huh? All this time, I never guessed.”

“My dream?” For a brief, sickening moment, Kate thinks her cover is blown.

“Oh, come on, Kate.” Finally Lucy whirls around to glare her down, and she’s so openly furious that Kate does a double-take. “You wanted to be part of this team all along. That’s why you walked into the bar the first time, isn’t it? That’s why you kept following me around like a lost puppy?”

Lucy’s words sting, and Kate swallows thickly—hears the anger, but also hears the quiver of Lucy’s voice and knows what it means. “It’s not what you think.”

“People always say that in the movies and it is, it is exactly what they think!” Lucy exhales sharply. “You used me.”

“That’s not what happened,” Kate says desperately. She has an explanation on the tip of her tongue. Hell, she has the entire confession just waiting to explode. That she has been in deep cover in pursuit of Jane Tennant and her team for almost a year—that she met Lucy by accident, and didn't know she was part of said team—that the reason Kate broke up with Lucy at all was because she knew it was the right thing to do, and not because she wanted to. But it would be worse than just self-sabotaging to tell the truth; it could ruin countless lives. So Kate can't say anything.

“How else would you describe it?” Lucy demands. “You’re the one who kept chatting me up, asking about the bar and the races. So what is it you want? Money? Protection?”

“Lucy—”

“No, tell me! Tell me what was worth stringing me along for? What was worth giving me some dumbass excuse to wait for you while you ‘figured things out’?” Lucy’s voice sounds choked now. “Did you figure it out, Kate? Huh? Did you get what you wanted?”

“I want you!” The first sharp prick of tears aren’t a surprise, but Kate still tries not to let them fall. “But I can't—I— “

Lucy’s expression softens, just a tad, like a thought is occurring to her she hasn't considered. “Are you in trouble?”

The question is unexpected, and Kate discreetly wipes at her eyes. “What?”

“You could've told me,” Lucy continues, “if you were in trouble. You didn't have to—” She doesn't finish her thought, but Kate can fill in the blanks. “I could've helped you.”

Kate knows, logically, that the “help” Lucy is referring to would likely be of the not-so-legal kind. But the fact that Lucy is willing to offer it? It makes Kate’s heart hammer in her chest like a lovesick teenager and she just doesn't understand. How on Earth is she supposed to betray Lucy Tara?

“It's complicated,” Kate says at last, which is true. “I can't talk about it.” Also true.

Lucy sighs. “Well, whatever you’re into,” she says. “It’s not going to get back to Jane, is it?”

Kate sucks in a shaky breath. “It won't,” she lies. 

“Good. Because I can totally kick your ass if I have to.” Lucy drums her fingertips against the car door like she wants to say something else, but doesn’t. “Can we go now?”

“Yes, of course,” Kate says quickly, starting up the engine. “Do you want to just tell me where to go?” Though she still remembers where Lucy lives, she also doesn't want to be presumptuous and start driving there either.

Lucy seems to begrudgingly accept this turn of events, in any case. She goes through the motions of giving directions, but the entire drive over she still does not broach the specifics of the next job like Jane asked her to. 

Kate has the sense not to push. She dutifully parks at Lucy's apartment complex when they arrive and just waits—lets Lucy take the lead on where to go next.

“We're doing a delivery to a warehouse on the south side next Friday,” Lucy finally says. “We go in pairs. I'll pick you up at eight.”

“What kind of delivery?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Lucy says. “Jane won't say it, but this is a test run. No details until she’s sure that you're trustworthy.” She turns to make sure Kate is looking at her, then asks, “Are you?”

Faced with the rawness of Lucy’s voice—of the guarded frown on her mouth—Kate can only nod ever-so-slightly. “You can trust me, Lucy,” she says softly, and wishes more than anything that she could mean it.

She wishes a lot of things, actually. Selfishly, for the chance to reach across the center console and hold Lucy’s hand, press a kiss to her knuckles like she used to, because it would make Lucy smile. (And also make Lucy try to push her luck at every red light back to Kate’s place). But she mostly wishes that she could go back in time and fix everything.

“Then I’ll see you on Friday,” Lucy says. “Are you still crashing in Curtis’s back room?”

“Yeah,” Kate says, thinking wistfully of days where Lucy used to squeeze into the makeshift bed along with her. “Do I have to meet you anywhere, or—”

“I'll pick you up,” Lucy says, but pauses just before she reaches for the door handle. “Is your phone number the same?”

“Since three months ago?”

“Don’t—try to be cute,” Lucy huffs. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

Kate feels the burgeoning twist of a smile try to form, unbidden, and she has to bite it back. “Okay,” she says. “Um, goodnight,” she adds, so as to not say something stupid like I still love you.

“Night,” Lucy mutters, throwing open the door without so much as a glance back.

Kate watches her leave, and only when she is sure Lucy is safely inside does she allow herself to look away, down at her phone where Lucy’s smiling face is still her screensaver. She thinks about it once or twice, but ultimately gives in and calls Curtis. “Hey, it’s me,” she tells his voicemail. “I’m joining Jane’s team for something next Friday. Can you get everyone together tomorrow? I’m going for a drive tonight, don’t wait up for me.”

And she does exactly that: puts her windows down, lets her music blast loud, drives and drives and drives until her fingers are numb against the wheel in an attempt to make her inner turmoil go away.

(It doesn’t).

[iambic-stan]

Benevolent Heretics

I started writing this the other day and didn't stop until it was done. Can it please happen IRL? I plucked an older character, Vera, from this dream-turned-story and here she is, a bit older and bolder but still somewhat self-conscious.

If it was a waiting room, it certainly didn't feel like any I'd ever occupied.  First of all, there was complimentary coffee.  Don't misunderstand me, though--it wasn't a slender Keurig sitting next to some Styrofoam cups.  There was an actual barista with beautiful taupe skin, box braids, wide-leg jeans and a crop top that said "Hillman College."  There was a fancy La Marzocco espresso machine and freshly baked pastries.  The lemon basil mini bundt cake looked delicious but I couldn't bring myself to eat.  That, and the pastries weren't free and I'd almost gambled all of my paycheck on this visit, hoping for, but not counting on, reimbursement from my insurance.  I eyed the dry erase board of specialty drinks, trying to read through ingredients quickly so the barista wouldn't become impatient.  

"Baby, you can take your time," she said.  "I love your hair, by the way.  What do you call that color?  It's like there are little specks of gold in the blue when you turn a certain way."

I beamed.  "Thank you so much.  Lapis lazuli."

"Oh, perfect!"

"Do you have a favorite scene in A Different World?

"When Diahann Carroll is telling Dwayne Wayne to just die," she said without missing a beat.

I laughed.  "Oh, I suppose I wanna try a hot Purple Haze?"

"Medium or dark roast?"

"I guess medium?"

I stared at the art behind her.  It depicted a dark-haired white man sitting in a booth, a sort of frustrated expression on his face.  Seated next to him was a great blue heron that almost seemed to be wearing a smile.  So strange.

"And what's your favorite scene?" she asked, setting the drink in front of me, little purple crystals sitting on top of the cloud-shaped foam art.  "Lids are on the counter to your right."

At that moment, an older middle-aged woman opened the door across the room, said, "Vera?" and looked in my direction.  I took her in for a second.  Her long, curly brown hair cascaded over a kaftan with, was it narwhal print?  The straps on her sandals were ocean waves.

We made eye contact.  "Ready for you," she said, smiling airily.

"Oh!" I said.  'Ok."  I grabbed my drink and started walking toward her, then recalled the question.  Before I disappeared down the hallway behind the woman, I turned and called out, "When Lena is explaining the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet!"  I thought the barista was smiling but it was hard to say.

The hallway was a bit of a labyrinth, but every twist and turn had a surprise.  The first treat was a banana ball python in a terrarium.  "That's Bert," the woman said, turning back to glimpse my face.  "Ernie's at the vet overnight, but he's fine."  

"Oh that's adorable!" I exclaimed, sipping my lavender and chamomile latte.

"By the way, I'm Celeste," she said warmly.  "It's great to meet you in person."  She reached for my hand, her bangle bracelets clanging against each other.

"You're the lady I talked to all last month!"  I blurted out.  I took the hand she offered, and she gently placed her other hand on top of mine, soft and smelling like jasmine.

I looked up at her, then down at my feet.  This woman knew just about everything...about one thing.  But it was one of the most important things in my life.  It felt frighteningly vulnerable.  I racked my brain to recall what I knew about her so I'd feel less disadvantaged.  It felt like I was running a search in Windows for "celeste" and opening every relevant file of hundreds, not quite knowing what I expected to find.  I knew she was married and had two black labs.  She started out as a physical therapist and then decided to specialize in....whatever this was.  My own physical therapist had recommended her.  She loved David Lynch films, Isabelle Allende novels, and lots of Brazilian bossa nova singers I'd never heard of.  She loved Italian restaurants but never ordered spaghetti because "you can make that much better at home."  She sang in the choir at the Unitarian church down the road.  She researched everything she bought to ensure it was vegan.  She had family in Washington, the state.  She really liked Animal Farm when she read it in school, too.  Everything I knew about her felt so surface level compared to everything she knew about me.  And some of what I knew was from doing my own internet research, if I was honest.  She let go of my hand and I shuddered for a second when she turned and said, "Just a bit further; we're almost there," and kept walking.  

Up ahead, I saw that the walls turned into aquariums full of colorful fish: gouramis, oscars, cichlids, danios, and barbs.  I stood mesmerized as she opened a door and motioned for me to step in front of her.  "The fish are always a big hit," she said.  I followed her into an office-like room with a very 70s vibe.  The groovy aesthetic went so far that it had one of those conversation pits with an orange plaid couch and bookshelves.  I started reading titles and spotted  I Can't Date Jesus and A Queer and Pleasant Danger.  She stepped down onto the couch, sat down, and started writing notes in a little pad.  

"You can sit," she said, noticing how I was just standing there, my eyes flitting from macrame hanging pots to lava lamps to fabric posters, overwhelmed by all the mustard yellow, avocado, and earthy brown tones everywhere.

I rubbed my sweaty hands together and sat several feet away from her on the same side of the square-shaped couch.  I looked her way and my eyes fixated on her turquoise necklace and the movement of her chest as she breathed.  My eyes travelled up and I searched for a neck pulse, then quickly looked away as soon as I realized what I was doing.  She stopped writing and looked straight at me.  "Whatever you're thinking is ok here," she assured me.  "Nothing to feel self-conscious about."

"Do you see a lot of people like me?" 

"In what way?  Do you mean cardiophiles?  If so, not a lot, but you're not the first."

I let out a long sigh.  "There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about this," I confessed.

"And there's nothing wrong with that.  It's more common than you think, even more so for neurodivergent people like yourself."

"I prefer 'neuro spicy,'" I chuckled.  She smiled, nodded.

"Is your heart beating fast, Vera?" she asked plainly.  It was a simple question, but as soon as she uttered it, the words stretched out in my brain like cold cane syrup.  I stared into her eyes and heard the words "heart" "beating" and "fast" over and over again for several seconds.  I was so entranced that I didn't hear myself say, "Yeah.  It is," until it had already escaped my mouth.

She laughed casually.  "And that's perfectly normal.   The last time we had a cardiophile here, he was an older man, many years ago.  He was recovering from cancer treatment--that was what led him to physical therapy, and then to me.  I started out as a more traditional physical therapist, and in my practice I learned about the more unusual ways that physical intimacy healed--for those who have interests that aren't mainstream, and nonsexual kinks, if you will.  It works in tandem with conventional physical therapy.  I set my own boundaries because I have to, and they are firm, but you might be surprised how much one can do with clothes on, and how gratifying that can be for the client.  I don't have a personal investment in most of the services I provide here, but in my line of work I've become deeply interested in sensuality and the multitude of ways that humans experience it.  The pre-visit chats are designed to help us feel comfortable with each other, and if you're wondering--yes, they are covered under your insurance, as are our in-person appointments.  As long as your therapist and I can justify to the insurance company that you're making progress, they will provide at least partial coverage."

"What if...I no longer need physical therapy but I still want to come here and do this?"

"Many people do, and you can discuss payment plans with Yasmin up front.  She's the barista who served you."

"Oh wow.  Ok, great."

"Do you want to play music?  Since your interest is largely about listening and being listened to, I know that might be a distraction, but I could play it at a low volume.  Also, this is something we ask every client."

I nodded, and she continued, "We have a record player and mostly 70s music to fit with the room's motif, but if you want something else, I should be able to pull it up for you."

I only thought about it for a moment.  "Do you have Fleetwood Mac's Tusk album?"

She nodded, ascended the two steps that led out of the conversation pit, and crossed the room to an refurbished old phonograph with an oak horn.  She flipped through a crate of records and within a minute had retrieved Tusk.  "For the longest time, it was all about Stevie for me," she said.  "And then, I don't know, I was at a party and they were playing Mirage.  Somehow I'd never heard 'Hold Me' and I just thought Christine and Lindsey's voices blended so well.  I love all of Christine's tracks on Mirage now, even the cheesiest."  I smiled at this anecdote, closed my eyes and listened to the soft whine of Lindsey's slide guitar.  Christine's vocals came in as smooth as honey, and I thought about how a song with such insecure lyrics could be so soothing sonically.  The sound mattered much more to me.

She reached into an armoire and pulled out a cardboard box.  She placed it beside me as she stepped back down into the pit.  "You can pick out a stethoscope from there.  Or like I said the other day, you can bring your own.  I just need an extra minute to sanitize it.  Just standard procedure," she shrugged.  I rifled through several stethoscopes and pulled out a Littmann with a rose gold teardrop-shaped chest piece and a pink satin finish. 

"It's like if Glinda had one," I heard myself saying.

"You liked Wicked?" she asked.  "I need to find time to go see it."

"Oh it's sooooo good," I told her.

"Alright, so we have thirty minutes left.  I'll lead the session, but your job is also to let me know if there's anything else you need or if you're uncomfortable.  In the case of the former, I'll see if I can accommodate, and in the case of the latter, we will stop and discuss what needs to change.  Does that make sense?"  I nodded.  "Ok, if you don't mind, I need you to unbutton the second button on the top of your shirt."  I did as she asked, all the while wondering if she could see my heart pounding.  My chest was small, so I wasn't revealing any cleavage, but my thin build almost made it easy to see through.  She slowly placed the palm of her hand over my heart and kept it there for a few seconds.  "I can feel it; it's so fast," she remarked.  The practiced smile on her face really only indicated a passing, and I suppose professional, interest in my heartbeat, but that was enough for me.

By the time she was wearing the binaurals and positioning its chest piece on my bare chest, the frantic, rushed "The Ledge" was playing and my heart pounded along with Lindsey Buckingham's bass.  Unlike any doctor I'd ever seen, Celeste moved the chest piece all around the terrain of my chest, stopping for a bit at each location to hear what my valves would do.  I took deep breaths without realizing it, and I looked down to see the stethoscope rise and fall with my body.  "I haven't listened to a great deal of hearts in my line of work, but this one sounds pretty great to me."  I looked over at her face, the metal tubes peeking out from behind her hair.  There was something so reassuring about looking at someone wearing binaurals like that, knowing they were listening to me.  I saw her eyes on her phone and wondered what she was looking at until she said, "109, how about that?  That's pretty fast for resting.  I'm glad I've gotten your heart to engage with me so fully."  I thought I would melt.  When she was finished listening, "Think About Me" had played and the mercifully short "Save Me a Place" had just ended.  

"Would you like to listen to my heart?" she asked.  "It's a little fast because I think it has reacted to yours.  Just a heads up.  You're welcome to listen if you'd like.  But also know that it's ok with me if you don't want to.  Either way."  

"Can I lay down on the sofa while I'm listening?"

"Absolutely, let me grab one of the throw pillows for your head."

The entirety of "Sara" played while Celeste held the chest piece under her narwhal kaftan and I closed my eyes while facing the ceiling.  I mean I knew that "Sara" was the next cut on the record, but the noise-cancelling feature of the stethoscope worked so well that I couldn't even tell music was playing.  I just heard her fast heartbeat layered with her steady breathing.  For a moment, I wondered how old she was.  At least mid-50s, probably?  Maybe older.  Definitely at least ten years my senior.  And all the while, I thought to myself, she'd had this organ working inside of her all the time.  Unless she'd had a transplant, I reasoned.  But my mind didn't dawdle on those thoughts.  With my eyes closed, I could imagine I was swimming, or hiking, or biking.  I settled on imagining I was floating in a blue lagoon, seeing a waterfall up ahead.  I swam a leisurely breaststroke to the waterfall and let it pour all over my body.  And then my mind just went blank.  There was just nothing--except for the sound.  And the sound was crystal clear and exquisite.  I didn't realize how much time had passed and was surprised to hear "but never have I been a blue calm sea," when I took the stethoscope off.  We were already at the end of "Storms"?

I sat up, turned around, and saw that Celeste was smiling so warmly I could've mistaken this scene for a Hallmark movie.  My brain wanted to stop and take a screenshot of the moment she handed me the other end of the instrument and our hands were both touching it--hers a deep olive, mine rosier.  My hands were unadorned but she wore delicate little rings with tiny rhodolite and hematite stones.  "You can put it on the end table to your left," she indicated.  

"If it was mine it would have a gender and a name and everything," I told her excitedly.

She laughed heartily and I had a revelation that being proud of making your therapist laugh applies to just about all types of therapists.  "How was that?" she asked.

"It was wonderful.  You sound great. It--it was great," I said with the imagination of a Tumblr bot.

"Did you tell me a few weeks ago you have an electronic stethoscope?"

"Yes--an Eko Core 500 named Christine, actually."

"Feel free to bring her next time."  She pulled out her phone.  "I have you down for...this time in two weeks.  Does that still work for you?"

"Yes, that sounds great," I said like a broken record.  I would have more and better words for the experience later.

She asked if I had any questions, and if this was what I'd had in mind.  No and a million times yes.  We exchanged more small talk about weekend plans--work and a hike for me, house cleaning and possibly seeing Wicked with her partner for her.  She walked me back through the labyrinth and I waved goodbye to an indifferent Bert. I made sure to give Yasmin a thumbs up on my drink as I sipped the rest on my way out, and when I stepped out into the chilly December morning, I felt brand new.

[lil-melody-moon]

Oh, hello there! 💜 Are we making a tradition out of this, because I'm up for that! Moonie girls gotta support each other!

I like the first photo very much. I remember I had one day where I saw this and thought "This fur is big enough for two" and so I imagined myself under this fur with him, as he would cover me to not let me feel cold 🥹

The second, well, I have a bit of a story with this. There's another one where Keith's dressed like that, he's standing further away from the camera, but either way. My bestie found it, send me it and said "That's how Uncle Ernie would look like if he didn't have a brothel" and now as I look at this pic, I'm gonna add "This is him in the upcoming epilogue to my fic" 😂 @jimmysdragonsuit13 Sometimes you can predict the future, you knew that?

I think I saw the third somewhere, or a similar pic, but even if it's that tiny, I can still see that one button off - plus he has a beard, like 🫠🫠🫠

The fourth and fifth one I have to comment together, because I have a strange weakness to his side profile and while he's cute in the fourth one - his face is perfectly shaped 💜 - the fifth photo is just 🫠 The light is doing most of the work here, but his eyes, nose, hair, cheeks, chin, lips, fucking everything, even those tiny sideburns. He's just perfect!

Thank you for sending me the photos, be sure you'll get some in exchange 💜

[heyidkyay]

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Twenty-Four - Part A

A/n: PLEASE READ!

The next two updates will come in parts A and B and are flashback chapters! SO there is nothing current happening, but they are really important to the story and have a lot of details which have been mentioned in earlier parts of the fic that weren't delved into. They're also incredibly long, this one alone is around 20k words, so just a warning! I love them though and hope you will too:)

Part B will be similar to A and will be out soon. Enjoy x

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Lots of swearing as per usual, talks and acts of violence, mentions of abuse and implications of sexual assault, alcohol and drug use.

Masterlist

I groaned for what felt like the umpteenth time, arms crossed over my chest as I slumped against the brick archway leading to the townhouse's front door. My school shirt was probably all creased now but I knew mum would have a right fit if I walked back home to change- we were already running late.

“Vicky!” I shouted out again, growing tired of waiting. “I swear, if Cook catches us at the gates I’m blaming you!”

I heard a loud bang sound from above me and glanced up to find that the bane of my existence had stuck her horn out of the upstairs window. “Would’ya shut up with your whining, the neighbours will have my head if you carry on- oh, and tell me where I left my essay for Herrins last night? I can’t find it anywhere!”

She was dressed, which was as much as a shock as it was a relief, but seemingly had yet to sort her hair out which could prove to be problematic. “Christ, Vic! It’s on your dresser, remember? You stuck it between the mirror and your jewellery box so that you’d be able to find it this mornin'.” I told her, the sentence followed shortly by a mumbled sigh, “What good it did though.”

“Oh shit, yeah!” Vicky gasped and I watched as she spun her head back round and caught sight of the scribbled essay- exactly where I said it’d be. “Cheers, babe. Just be a sec!”

Then she was gone again. I chuckled lowly to myself and shook my head. It was always the same with her, never knew when she was coming or going, but she was loyal to the very end. And pretty much the only proper mate I had.

Vicky Taylor was practically my other half. We’d met in year three and I’d truly hated her at first. Seeing how she’d replaced Emma Alden, who’d moved down to Wales that previous summer, in the seat beside mine. 

She’d had this pretty pencil case too lined with glitter pens and a rainbow sharpener, I’d been so fucking jealous of it that I pretty much shrugged off any attempt she’d made at conversation. Up until Ernie Sutton came over at least, acting like the eight year old twat he was, emptying the contents of her pencil case all over the floor, only to then stomp all over it. I’d gone mental at him, taken the milk carton we’d all been handed and upturned it on his head. He’d stunk the whole day and Mrs Wilkins had been such a bitch about it, but Vicky, she’d just grinned a teary smile and nicked another carton from the trolley for me as a thanks. 

We’d been as thick as thieves since.

“She still not down yet?”

Pulling myself out of my reminiscent thoughts, I glanced up right into the eyes of Jamie Taylor, Vicky’s older brother who was in the year above us. He was leant up against the door frame, shirt half-untucked and with a lopsided smile on his face. Jamie was fit to say the least, every girl at school thought so, me among them, but he was off limits. Or I liked to think of it that way, like I'd ever have a real chance with him. Jamie only ever looked at me as Vic’s best mate anyway, 'it's like having another annoying little sister' he’d once said.

I rolled my eyes and put up the front I was so used to faking around him- never would I ever let it slip that I was in any way interested in him, least I’d be shunned from the Taylor household for the rest of eternity. And that was the very last thing I wanted to happen. 

“What do you think, smartarse? You’ve lived with her most of your life. When is she not running late?”

Jamie just chuckled, blue eyes squinting as the looked me over. “Still got five minutes before the bell goes.”

“It’s a ten minute walk, J.”

“Exactly, have to make a run for it then, wontcha?” 

I couldn’t hide the slight quirk my mouth made upon hearing his reply, but merely shook my head in turn. “Can’t, be late either way. Wanna stop in by the bakery before, ain’t had breakfast yet.”

He pursed his lips then and I regretted having said anything at all when he spoke up again, “Your mum-”

“Yup.” I cut him off and pivoted to stare off down the road, acting unbothered as I continued to wait for his sister. Though I guess I should’ve been used to it by now. My mum was always putting everyone else above me. Who cared if there weren’t enough milk in the fridge for me? Who did it hurt when her newest fling would sit himself down in my dad’s armchair and read the morning paper whilst starkers? Just count your lucky stars you didn’t get slapped about by this one! At least not yet.

“Look, Y/n,”

Never had I ever been so thankful for Vicky, who thundered down the stairs before he could get another word out and barged past Jamie to make it through the doorway, essay in hand. She grinned at me, “Ready, babe?”

“For the last half hour, yeah.”

She rolled her eyes at me, amused, then linked her arm in mine as she pulled us both down the garden path. I only glanced back once I heard the front door slam behind us to find that Jamie was still wearing that frown expression and following.

Vicky, you had to know, was one person that could talk forever. And I meant forever. If the Olympics ever decided that they wanted to implement an event where the only talent you had to have was to be able to speak for hours on end, then Vic would be the very first person the English Team would call. It was honestly tough to keep up with her at times, so most times I was pretty content to just listen.

She ranted the whole way to the bakery off of Lloyds Street, not allowing Jamie nor I to get a word in, and proceeded to question Old Man Langford who owned the small shop the moment she spotted him. I ordered my usual from the girl stood at the til, who wasn’t much older than us really, and Jamie prattled off his to her too before I could pull out my purse, already holding a fiver out towards her.

“Jaim-”

But my voice was cut off by Jamie calling over to his sister to ask what she wanted. A bacon sarnie and an orange juice. He nodded to the cashier who took his money with a shy smile and handed him back his change.

“I could have got mine.” I mumbled to him the second the girl got to work on pulling the order together.

Jamie snorted, “Think the word you’re looking for there, love, is thanks.”

I fish mouthed. Love. He’d never called me that before. Not once. And the singular word rewired my entire brain.

Jamie continued on talking though, none the wiser to my slowly crumbling interior, up until the girl at the counter handed him a paper bag and a to go cup we hadn’t ordered.

“On me.” She told him, flashing him a flirty smile. 

Jamie grinned and glanced back at me for a brief second. “Cheers.” He said and must’ve given her a wink or something in return because she flushed. I fought not to roll my eyes at the pair of them and picked the coffee cup out of Jamie’s hand before trailing my way over to Vicky and Mr Langford.

“Lovely to see you, Mr Langford! How’s Sheila?” I asked, smiling away even as I felt a pair of icy daggers burn into the side of my head. Old Man Langford smiled at me fondly and told me that his daughter was doing just fine, working hard in the city now, though she was due a visit, which made me chuckle before we wrapped our conversation up and all bid him our goodbyes.

“Oi, I think you’ll find that was meant for me.” Jamie commented as soon as our feet touched the pavement outside and the shop bell stopped rattling above us. 

“Hm?” I questioned, feigning confusion whilst still sipping away at the warm drink. The girl might’ve been a terrible flirt but she could make a decent cuppa. “Not sure what you mean.”

Vicky snorted whilst we started the trek up the big hill which led to the school gates. “She’s always popping in something extra whenever he goes in there." She said, "Fancies the pants off him, mum claims.”

“Can you really blame her?” Jamie smirked just before he stole the cup back out of my hands, gleeful eyes finding mine when he took a large swig. “I mean, have you seen me?”

I narrowed my eyes and pinched at his hip, startling him enough to allow the cup to slip free from his hand without much of a fight. 

“Oi!”

“Every man reckons they’re God’s gift to women. What’s so different about you then?” I quipped, loving the way Jamie’s gaze lingered on me as I took a sip from the cup we’d shared. He was walking backwards now, just in front of Vicky and I, head turning back every so often, school bag slung over his right shoulder as he fought to defend his honour.

“I’m the real deal, me! The whole package. What girl wouldn’t want me?”

I rolled my eyes but almost choked when Vicky laughed outright and gave him a snarky reply.

“Y/n, for one. So jump down off that high horse of yours, J, you’re no David Beckham.”

I giggled at the vengeful glare Vicky received in turn. If only she knew.

“Take that back!” Jamie spat with a pointed finger, though he was wearing a mirthful smile. He combed a hand across his hairless chin and gave us a pouty pose, “Beckham lookalike me. Just wait, I’ll be playing for United one day.”

“So you say.” Vicky laughed before turning towards me with a conspiratorial grin, “Dad says he’ll be lucky to work in the grocers after the results he got on his last exams.” 

“Vicky!” 

The girl merely cackled when her brother drove her back with a shove, “What! It’s true, ain’t it?”

Jamie merely huffed and rolled his eyes at the girl, not glancing my way as we continued to walk on. The gates weren’t too far, could see the spikes which sat atop them now.

“Swear, you boys are all so touchy.” Vicky murmured with a sly grin she couldn’t quite hide.

Jamie sneered at her, contradicting it by flicking her arm playfully. “Yeah, and you girls are all so annoying.”

“Oi.” I cut in, still happy to just sip my tea whilst they bickered but unable to let that slip. “I’m a delight, thanks.”

“So you are, Darlin’. So you are.” Jamie grinned at me and jumped around Vicky to lay a loud and sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“Jamie!” Vic shouted, slapping his bicep and shoving him away from me as soon as she got the chance. Jamie laughed loudly in response, shooting me a wink as he dove further from her swinging arms. “I’m so sorry, babe.” She added when she turned to me, then glanced back towards Jamie with a wrinkled nose, “God, you are such a prat!”

But I just waved her apology off, forcing the butterflies I’d felt flutter deep deep down as I took another long sip. Jamie waggled his brows at me whilst Vicky just huffed, then continued on with whatever she’d been saying, something to do with Mr Langford’s wife.

I watched him quietly and cocked a brow of my own, he was skirting around all sorts of lines here, ones I couldn’t quite decipher. He smirked and there was something more to it, something I couldn’t make out.

We made it through the gates soon enough and I was thankful for it- although we were nearing half an hour over first bell. Jamie nor Vic seemed to care though, the latter only just starting in on her sandwich.

“Who’s the new lad?” Vicky suddenly asked then, mouth half full, and I followed the direction of her gaze to find a lad wearing headphones slumped against the low brick wall outside the main office. “He’s sorta fit, don’t you think?” She commented, tilting her head as she took him in.

He was, sort of. But I could make out much of him, he was slouched in his position and had a horde of dark blonde curls hiding the top half of his face.

I hummed my confirmation, eyes watching him from over the top my cup. Jamie scoffed.

“He can barely even see what he looks like with all that hair, how can you two?”

My mouth tugged upwards on its own accord whilst Vicky snorted at her brother. “Says you, who spends the better part of an hour in front of the bathroom mirror each mornin’.”

“Ha.” Jamie replied with a forced smile.

I shrugged, interrupting the two. “Hair’s what makes him fit, J. Those curls are proper lovely.”

Vicky grinned around another mouthful of bread, “Ain’t they just? I wanna run my hands through it.”

“Bet he’d appreciate the bacon grease.” I teased her, but was inclined to agree. 

“Oh, he’d love it!” Vicky retorted, rather loudly and with a laugh that made me chuckle too. Jamie just rolled his eyes at the pair of us as we all waltzed towards the English block. 

“You two are dead blind.” He told us, fiddling with his own hair now.

“Ah, don’t worry, Taylor. You’re still number one in our hearts.” I appeased him with a mirthful grin, which made Vic cackle loud enough for anyone near to hear. Which unfortunately included Mr Cook.

“You three! Late again, I see!” The deputy head barked as he came storming out the main building towards us, “My classroom this lunchtime. Be there or it’s a suspension- that means no footie, Jamie Taylor.”

Jamie’s jaw ticked but he nodded, “Sorry, sir.”

“Good lad, now get to class.” Mr Cook demanded, hands on his hips as he attempted to corral us through the school's doors. As he did though, my eyes found an unfamiliar pair observing us from not too far away. I smirked at him when he realised he’d been caught and waved before ducking behind the heavy entrance doors.

— 

It was the last place I wanted to be. But here I was, making my way over to the library where Mrs Trench, my maths teacher, told me I could find the tutor she’d since assigned me.

It wasn’t as though I was thick or nowt. I wasn't. Just maths made my head hurt sometimes. Enough to have made my marks drop by an unreasonable amount. 

I was alright with the numbers bit, the multiplying and the dividing I could do quicker than most off the top of my head. But then they just had to go and add letters. And that had fucked me right up, hadn’t it. 

I huffed to myself at the very thought of it as I trudged my way through the empty halls. School had already let out and I was still stuck here whilst Vicky and the rest of the girls were set to head off into town later on- there was a new record shop that’d just opened up and everyone was buzzing to see if it was worth the wait.

The library doors creaked like they always did when I pushed through them, as old as everything else in this forsaken place, and the librarian glanced up at me through her oval glasses when I walked by the counter. We shared our usual nod, having started somewhat of a routine by now. She was an alright woman, let me camp out in the classics section when I was skiving off Pe and didn’t bitch when sung quietly to myself. So, better than alright, I supposed.

But this school was a wasteland, most days you actually had to goad the teachers into teaching you properly. Although some were worse than others, but a lot of them just wanted their pay check at the end of each month.

Mrs Turner, my maths teacher, wasn’t amongst them though, she was all about the marks, having the best test scores. In truth, she just wanted a raise, had been trying for one ever since I’d joined. That was the only reason why she’d set this whole thing up. 

I knew who I was looking for when I walked in. He was a lad in Jamie’s year, so only a year older than me, but his face was well known seeing as the boys he hung about with tended to stir quite a bit of trouble when they pleased. Jamie had also mentioned his name once or twice in passing, they were mates, but not overly friendly. J tended to stick close to the other lads on the football team. So I knew who he was when Mrs Trench had given me his name on a piece of parchment. 

I caught him sat in one of the far tables in the very back, head buried in a book ‘reading’ but his foot was a dead giveaway to the fact that he had no clue what he was even looking at, tapping away to some sound or other. I spotted the wire to his mp3 as I approached and smirked down at him.

“Oi.” I startled him, using a deep voice to mimic that of Deputy Cook’s. The lad jumped out of his seat as his head snapped up towards me, almost dropping his mp3 in the process. I grinned at the reaction, withholding a chuckle as I looked him over, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself when I saw you. I’m Y/n, Mrs Trench said she spoke to you about helping me out in maths?”

The boy just laughed, looking a lot less tense now that the threat of Mr Cook had rapidly disappeared. He didn’t seem all that annoyed by the childish trick as he looked up at me either. “She did. I’m Adam, by the way. But most people just call me Hann.”

“Yeah? Why’s that then?” I asked him as I took the chair opposite and grabbed my textbook form my bag.

“Dunno. Just always been that way I suppose. Helps that it’s my last name too.” Adam told me with an easygoing smile.

I chuckled, “Seems so. What do you want me to call you then?”

“Either, I don’t mind.” He retorted with a small shrug, wrapping his mp3 up and tucking it back into his blazer pocket. “You’re Jamie’s mate, ain’t you?”

Jamie’s mate… I didn’t know about that. Jamie tolerated my presence I guessed, when I was hanging about with Vicky or staying round his. Though we had spoken here and there without her around. Mainly just teasing when we’d pass each other by in the halls, or stopping to talk when our lunchtime tables intertwined. 

“‘Spose.” I answered him, ���So you any good with maths then, or is it all talk?”

Adam didn’t seem to mind my answer, nor the swift change of subject, merely laughed lightly and got to talking about the topic. We started off on the easier tasks of the lot, which I made progress on pretty quickly, then we tried our luck at the different theorems there were. I quite enjoyed his company honestly, he was witty and funny in a way that most lads weren’t. He could joke about and then be serious without it being so black and white.

By the time we’d spent a couple of our Wednesday afternoons together, he invited me out ‘round to this small party one of his mates was throwing. Said I could bring a friend if I wanted. And so I’d gone, only because Adam had hastily become a new friend. He hadn’t shied away when we saw one another around school, approached me in the fields when he’d spotted me to tell me about this new record he’d found and reckoned I’d like, and even walked home with me some days after last lesson had ended when our other mates were busy or had detention.

The small party really had been just that. A nice little gathering of about fifteen or so people just mulling about in the garden of some big fuck-off house Adam’s mate supposedly lived in. I’d brought Vicky along with me, but lost her the second she’d spotted a mutual friend, although I was ultimately saved by Adam who gifted me a massive smile when he saw me. He greeted me happily with a beer in hand and took me off to get a drink of my own whilst we chatted away about this new album that’d just been released. 

It was that night that most things changed for me, because it was that night that I properly met Adam’s friends, or his ‘bandmates’ as he called them. Ross and Elliott were already halfway to drunk when we were first introduced but Ross tugged me under his arm once Adam had given him my name, claiming that he’d been looking for a new best mate, seeing as his old one had been driving him mad. And I’d just gone along with it, perfectly content in his playful company. 

Elliott had been alright too, he’d spoken with us for a bit before some girl had caught his eye and the pair of them had wandered off to some place dark. Adam’s good friend Matty though was the one that really caught my attention, because how could he not? He’d come bounding over to us, all dark curls and this massive shit-eating grin on his face, he’d had a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and, without a care in the world, had plopped himself straight down in my lap. 

Matty was loud, eccentric, but oh so lovely. Even though he could be a bit of a pretentious twat at times, too stubborn for his own good really, I still found I rather enjoyed his presence. It was miles different to what I was used to. 

He seemed to like me alright too, or so I believed, but only because of the way he'd gone off on Sam McKinnon when the lad had wandered past us, the spat had made me realise rather quickly that you’d definitely know if Matty didn’t like you.

We’d spent the rest of the evening laughing and passing drinks around. I got to know the lot of them rather well, and so, when I claimed that that had been the night that things changed for me, I wasn’t lying. Because afterwards, the four lads seemed to take me under their wing, even when I passed my maths exam and Adam no longer had to tutor me. 

Vicky didn’t seem to mind it much either, me wandering off with them, seeing as she’d just started dating Tony Watts, who was far too into himself for my taste though he drove his own car. And the boys, although a year older, became a bit of a lifeline for me. I bonded with them in ways I hadn’t with Vic. It was just so different with them and we’d all clicked so instantly that it was hard to even verbalise.

It was actually a couple months after I’d finally gotten settled into my new found arrangement of friends that it had all begun to shift again. Elliott, it seemed, had other priorities, he’d formed a band of his own long before the other boys had even thought of trying out one of their own, and had gotten busy with it- as well as his longtime girlfriend. So once the guys had realised that they were now a lead singer down, Matty had stepped up and away from the drum kit to take over. A smart move if I do admit, Matthew Healy was not meant to be boxed behind a rowdy instrument, and seeing him up front and centre only proved that. He preformed up there.

So what with Matty being frontman, that meant that the drums now had no owner. Matty had tried to make it work for a short while, but it just didn’t sound the same, too much going on for it all to fall correctly in time. And so the lads decided to ask about, look for someone who might fit in alright with the rest of them.

It was me that found that person though. Which was surprising, seeing as though most would believe that I’d be the last person you’d expect to do so. 

It had happened on a Tuesday morning actually, it’d been pissing it down outside but the guys had all wanted to head on out to smoke a fag behind the shed before next lesson. I’d passed, preferring to stay dry rather than get a quick fix. So I’d just dropped them off by the back doors before wandering back the way I’d came, down by the music block.

I’d paused the second I’d heard it, the rapid hit of a drum. I’d gotten far too used to instruments since hanging about during the guys’ band practices to not know something good when I heard it. And this, this was unlike anything I’d heard the boys play before.

I stood there, outside the door to music room 3, for a short while, just listening. Before the sound had slowly dwindled out, forcing me to push my way through the room’s only entrance and exit.

The music rooms were typically quite small, most people used them on days like today to mess about in, or hide from the hordes of people acting like dickheads. Music room 3 was where the school’s only drum kit was housed though.

As I forced my way inside, I halted at the unexpected sight that greeted me.

“Um.” The room’s only occupant mumbled in surprise.

“You’re the new boy.” I immediately stated, staring down at the curly haired lad I’d seen earlier in the year that one morning I’d been late.

“Um.” The boy said again, causing me to frown.

The door closed swiftly behind me as I stepped further inside, his eyes darted towards it, “That all you say then?”

He looked back at me, narrowed gaze stuck on me now, and as he tilted his head I took note of the drumsticks he held in his hands. “No.”

“Oh so just the two then?” I teased and was relieved when he cracked a small smile. “You’re sick by the way,” I complimented, “Hope you don’t mind but I was listening outside for a while.”

Shock seemed to colour his expression as he glanced between me and the door.

“I heard you, just as I was walking past.” I explained, fingers reaching out to fiddle with the cymbal’s metal edge. “You’re good. Really good.”

“Thanks.” He murmured, still looking unsure about my entire presence.

I grinned in turn, “Where d’you learn to play?”

“Seattle.” He said.

My brows lifted in surprise, “Like America?”

He hummed his ascent.

“Wow. What’s it like over there?”

I’d never been, but Matty had. He’d said it was brilliant. Wanted to live out there one day, buy a big house with enough rooms for us all. 

The lad shrugged. “Different. Louder, I guess.”

Not much of a talker. Or maybe just, shy?

“Cool. Um so, I actually might have a reason for barging in here…” I admitted, looking up at him from under my lashes. 

He quirked an eyebrow in retort, but otherwise remained silent. 

This music business was already proving to be difficult.

…

I’d invited the lad round to Matty’s that same afternoon, knowing that they’d already arranged a practice session there. 

I’d simply just torn a bottom corner from a page in my sketchbook and written down the address, told him to meet me there at five if he felt like playing something proper.

I hadn’t even caught his name honestly, let alone gotten an actual answer as whether or not he’d come. But I was hopeful. This band meant everything to the guys, they worked so hard and got so much out of it, and if this kid could really play the drums they way I thought he could and was down to join then it would definitely set them apart from the rest.

I was sat on one of the beanbags Matty had set up in the garage when the boys slowly trailed in after me one by one, Hann tinkering with his guitar strap, Matty with a drink in hand, Ross wolfing down the last of Denise’s shepards pie.

Matty approached me first, throwing himself down onto the large cushion beside me, kicking his legs up over my knees. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Hm?”

“I asked what the matter with you was.” Matty repeated, nudging my shin with the toe of his trainer as he drawled his sentence, making out like I was slow. I scowled and flicked his calf.

“Sod off, would you?”

“Ooh, touchy today, aren’t we?” Matty snickered, paying no mind to my ever narrowing eyes whilst he sipped away on his can, “You on your period or summat?”

“I swear to all heavens, Healy. Just ‘cause a girl won’t give you the time of day, doesn’t mean she’s on her period!” I huffed with a roll of my eyes. Fucking boys, I swear.

“Nine times out of ten it does though.”

He cackled when I thumped his thigh, all too happy to have gotten a rise out of me. But that was just Matty, and the way we often worked.

Since meeting the guys, I’d bonded with them all in different ways. Adam was the one I'd tend to drift towards for conversation, to chill and just be seen- if I ever needed a problem solving then he was my man, always there to help. 

My feelings towards Ross resembled that of a little sister's, we bickered like nothing else but laughed louder than most whenever we were together. If anything were to happen to me I knew he’d be the first person at my back, defending me to the very end. 

Matty and I though, we just connected on a whole other level. I was the Bonnie to his Clyde. Constantly in and out of each others pockets, and forever causing mayhem. He’d quickly become my best friend- though I’d never admit it to him. We shared a similar likeness that most didn’t typically get. I could tell him absolutely anything and knew he wouldn’t judge me, and he’d always be there to pick me back up whenever life kicked me down.

We were almost always together, even with the year difference in school, enough that most believed that we actually had something going on. But we didn’t. Never had. And although our dynamic was different to that of Ross and I, I was quite sure that it would stay that way. Matty was a ladies man through and through, a player of sorts- though he made it well known to anyone who asked. He had too much energy to be confined to just one person, one relationship. Me on the other hand, well, I’d never gotten very far with anyone really. But I knew that I’d want something more than just a quick shag here and there, or a secret affair shared with a handful of others. I wanted dates and flowers, late night talking and someone to simply sweep me off my feet. I think deep down Matty understood that too. It’s why we worked.

“Come on then.” Matty prodded my side, relaxing effortlessly in the beanbag beside mine. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so worked up then or what?”

“’S nothing, Matt.”

“Don’t give me that.” He retorted, rolling his eyes at me before he started routing around in his jean pocket for something or other. “Got a joint on me if you want it. Might mellow you out, babe.”

I inhaled slowly, I knew that I’d been on edge the whole walk back to Matty’s, but had tried to hide it as best as I could, especially when I saw that Denise was home. But it’d been a struggle. The guys were counting on someone to pull through for them and I wanted so badly to help. It’s why I had yet to tell any of them about my earlier encounter, fearful that if I let it slip and the lad was a no-show that I’d be to blame.

I was used to burdening the blame. But never with these guys.

I blinked back to the present just as a prerolled joint dangled above my nose, I snatched it up quick and settled back into the seat before Matty could rescind the offer.

I knew better than to ask Matty for a light though, he was forever losing the daft things. Besides, I’d taken to carrying round one of my own for a couple years now. It’d been my dad’s. 

I pulled the old metal lighter out from my back pocket and flicked it open. It was one of those hefty ones, sterling silver and with a hinged lid. This particular one had a slight dent in the side that my dad had always claimed protected his own father from taking a bullet to the hip. My grandad was from way down south, the east end mainly, and had apparently been involved in all sorts. He’d gotten himself locked up four months before my dad was actually born though, and had only really met him once he’d turned fourteen. 

They were both gone now. Six feet below and buried in soil. Though my nana was still kicking about, only she lived in London so I didn’t get to see her all that often. Only whenever mum grew sick of me, I supposed.

I lit the joint with a practiced ease and let myself relax as I drew in a lungful.

“Oi, sharing’s caring and all that.” Ross said from across the room, mouth still full of minced beef.

I snorted in amusement, “Yeah when you’ve finished eating, maybe then we’ll talk.”

“Rude.” He grumbled and when I laughed, Matty took the opportunity to take a drag himself.

“Thought you said I could have it?”

“Sharing’s caring.” Matty mimicked Ross and I rolled my eyes, unable to hide my small smile.

It was in that next moment that my life really did change though, because it was that moment that things truly started to shift for me.

A knock sounded from over by the garage door and in a simultaneous motion we all seemed to glance our heads towards it, honestly expecting to see Louis grinning cheekily and wanting to get involved in our antics like he usually did. Everyone was surprised by the unfamiliar visitor that stood there though.

I coughed up the hit I’d just taken, honestly having anticipated the lad to have stood me up. He’d been far too quiet when we’d first spoken that I’d figured he’d bail out before the boys could give even him the time of day. But he’d really surprised me. I couldn’t help but grin at him once my coughing fit had died down.

“You came!”

“Figured I’d see what’d happen.” The lad shrugged in reply, sharp eyes on me before they surveyed the rest of the room, roaming over the guys’ faces.

I jumped up out of the beanbag, throwing Matty’s feet off my lap to go and properly greet him. A little proud feeling swelling in my chest. If this worked out then the boys would forever be in debt to me. 

Hann was quick to snap out of his shock too and he put down his guitar to join me, jerking his head in greeting.

“Alright, mate. I’m Hann.”

“George.” The lad replied, nodding a hello of his own.

“Shit! I didn’t even ask your name.” I winced, giving the boy a sheepish smile. One that had his own mouth twitching ever so slightly. “I’m Y/n.”

“I know.”

I blinked, unsure on how to reply to that. But thankfully Ross had bounded on over to meet the newcomer. “Ross.” He grinned, holding out a hand like a weirdo. George hit it though, and the two of them shared an odd ‘bro-ish?’ sort of handshake that I’d never come to understand. Did all men just have a universal greeting installed in their heads the day that they were born?

“George.” The lad repeated and I really took in his name that second time around. It suited him. Bit long, but it would do.

“And that twat in the corner is Matty, our main singer.” Ross went on to say, gesturing over to where Matty was still sat sprawled on the beanbag. I rolled my eyes at him but was mostly just thankful that Ross had put down his third helping of dinner to come and say hello.

“Oh, so that’s what this is then?” George questioned as he glanced over at me, not even phased by Matty’s dickish tendencies and having been flat out ignored by the twat.

I gave him another impish grin before turning to face the room, wanting all the boys’ attention on me now. “Well, you see, George plays the drums, yeah?” I revealed slowly, hoping they’d quickly catch on, “Like, plays them really really well.”

George’s cheeks were a little pink when I peered round at him, but he didn’t seem all that embarrassed by my compliment or the ambush of questions that immediately followed my little introduction.

And in the next instant, Ross was beckoning George on over to where the drum kit resided in the corner. George’s eyes roamed across the bloody thing like most boys did cars, or girls… And I smirked to myself as I wandered back over to my usual seat, my focus on the way Ross and Hann were still talking to the lad, Adam handing him a pair of sticks.

I was excited to say the least as I watched George settle into his chair, testing the kit lightly, not giving much away.

“Fuck d'ya find ‘im?” Came Matty’s mumbled snort from beside me and I shot him a puzzled look, having heard the deride in his tone. “Looks about nine.”

“Matty.” I scolded lowly, not wanting George to overhear and have him feel unwelcome.

“What? He’s a bit odd ain’t he?” He retorted through a soft cloud of smoke, I snatched the joint back off him. “All tall and gangly. That accent too.” He wrinkled his nose in a grimace. 

“Shut up, would you?” I huffed, not wanting to deal with whatever the fuck he was feeling then. 

Sure, George was taller than most. Similar height to that of Ross though, really. And he wasn’t all that gangly- who the hell even said gangly, anyway? He was more lean than lanky, his shoulders broad and his face well sculpted. He might’ve been a tad bit odd, what with his syllabic answers and mostly emotionless front. Or at least I hoped it was a front, something which I could sort of relate to.

“He’s probably just nervous.” I said to Matty, taking a drag as I watched Hann explain something or other to him. “I didn’t tell him about the band or nowt, just said to pop by. He’s proper good though, Matt.”

“Yeah?” I heard Matty say, “How’d you even know?”

“Heard him.” I replied and glanced over my shoulder to give him an amused look, “How the fuck else would I know?”

“Don’t be a prick.” Matty huffed at me, nabbing back what little remained of the joint. I shrugged. “You know what I meant.”

I did, but he was being difficult for no reason. “Music room, earlier today.”

I didn’t get the chance to hear Matty’s response to that because George begun to play and everyone’s focus fell on him, observing the way he so effortlessly played, listening to the rhythm that just flowed out of his palms.

I smiled broadly, feeling a little too smug when Hann and Ross beamed at the kid, whooping and hollering as George banged out another tune.

“Fuckin’ hell! You hearin’ this, Healy? Could give you a run for your money!” Ross bellowed, cracking up when Matty flipped him off. I chuckled to myself too and Hann asked George to play something they might know.

“Um,” George thought the request over, then nodded just the once before he started with a few taps to the bass drum pedal which led into the intro to one of the most brilliant Van Halen songs. 

Ross’s eyes lit up when he recognised it and he hastily made his way over to his bass, Hann followed, mesmerised by the effortless ease George used, and the two of them soon started to chime in, following George’s lead. I grinned, mumbling the words for Hot for teacher quietly to myself whilst my foot tapped away. They were brilliant, I could only imagine what they’d sound like with Matty up there with them.

I was smiling like a mad man by the time they all sort of fell out of it, laughing whilst I applauded them loudly. “Whoo! Didn’t I say he was good? I did, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did. Now quiet down, can already see your head getting bigger from way over here.” Ross mocked me with a teasing smile, I stuck two fingers up at him in retort and made to stand.

“He is good though.” Adam acknowledged, gifting George a wry smile. “You always play like that?” He asked and the lad shrugged.

“Depends, don’t always have an audience.”

I snorted softly but my attention dithered when Matty got up behind me and abruptly left the garage through the side door without another word. I frowned after him, so bewildered, then turned back towards the others.

Ross was shaking his head, fiddling with the nobs on his bass, whilst Adam forced a smile. Both of them used to it.

“Don’t mind him, mate. He’s a right diva, hates not being centre of attention.” Hann joked, ebbing some of the tension Matty’s departure had created like only he could.

I swallowed and stepped closer to the rest of them, “Hann’s right. He’ll come ‘round- that’s if he can stay?” I glanced between both Ross and Adam then, shoulders pulled up towards my ears.

Hann’s mouth twitched into a lopsided smile but Ross was the one to give me a valid answer, or rather George.

“When can you start?”

—

The thing about boys was, they were ten times more confusing than girls.

With girls, you sort of knew where you stood. If a girl didn’t like you, you’d know about it. But boys, they were just so difficult. And patronisingly so. 

I was only saying all this because it’d been a couple of weeks since George had actually agreed to join the band as their drummer. Something that Matty had huffed and puffed but said no more about. Neither one of them had tried to get to know the other. George was perfectly content to keep to himself when Ross and Hann’s attention was being occupied by Matty. And Matty was bitchy enough to leave the room midway through any conversation he grew bored with- which was typically whenever George spoke up. 

So it was safe to say that boys were infuriatingly stubborn, and these two in particular were driving me up the wall.

I hadn’t spoken much to George, only really got a couple of words out of him whenever I tagged along to practice, and then it was just a nod or a simple greeting when we passed by one another in school. Though he was in my year and, after that first session with the guys, I found that he kept popping up in a lot of the classes I’d failed to notice him in before.

Matty complained about George whenever he was bored, or when one of the boys brought up inviting him along to a party or out to the skatepark with them. I didn’t know what the fuck he had against the younger lad- had fought tooth and nail to get the answer out of him as subtly as I could- but he just wouldn’t budge. And me, being the best mate I was, felt a little weird about being friendly with George, even if it was only to make the band’s life easier. It was as though the loyalty I had for Matty interfered with me playing nice with the guy.

It was hard. And I was quickly growing tired of it.

Especially when I couldn’t help but admire George a small bit for the uncaring role he played in it all, he truly didn’t care that Matty was ‘Matty’, popular and loved by practically everyone. Matty, who always had a flock of girls fawning after him, lads wanting to be him, and teachers letting him off scot-free because they thought him to be a harmless joker. In George’s eyes Matty had it so easy and that’s why he got to act out the way he did.

It all came to a head one band practice though.

“Matty.” Ross sighed from over the neck of his guitar, beyond fed up now with his mate’s antics. 

It was almost eight and we’d all been here since four trying to rehearse for this little gig at the local pub. Hann had scored the thing, gotten his mate behind the bar to have a word with the owner. The bloke had said that they could play but they’d only get paid for it in drinks. Which had been a win-win for the guys.

Matty however was currently in one of his moods. The type he often got whenever his mum and dad had been arguing, the kind where he just wanted to piss about and forget he had responsibilities. It was something I could understand. One of the main reasons we’d bonded so quickly. Trauma calls to trauma- is that how the saying went?

Anyway, he was currently faffing about on the phone outside the garage to whichever girl he had on the go at the moment. He was laughing loudly, talking loudly, but drinking heavily. For a Thursday night at least. 

I sighed, picking at a loose thread on my shorts. I wanted to shake him, have him understand and see what everyone else was feeling. But Matty could be selfish when he wanted to be, especially when he was bricking up those walls of his higher than ever. It was in those moments, even I struggled to get through to him. 

Typically we’d all call it a night and try again another time, but this gig was tomorrow. And the guys still hadn’t gotten halfway through their planned setlist.

I say setlist, but it was five songs. One of which was the only original, the rest covers.

“Matt.” I called out tiredly. Matty merely flapped a hand at me. A universal sign for ‘just gimme a sec’.

Hann looked just about ready to scream, slumped against an amp, guitar forgotten beside him. And Ross was in a similar mindset, hands fisted by his sides to keep himself from wringing Matty’s neck.

I glanced over to where George was quietly tapping away on his drum kit, nodding his head along to whatever beat he had going on in his head. 

The more George had started to hang about, the more I'd started to deduce him.

At first, I thought he might’ve just been shy because of how little he’d spoken. But he fucking wasn’t, that much was easy to see when you knew where (or rather when) to look. The lads had commented on it at first, just poking fun and teasing, but I’d kept my opinion to myself- not sure why, just had, simpler that way, I figured. George wasn’t shy, no, but he was quiet. He preferred thinking, observing, over being the main focus. Much more aware of the things that went on than what he made it out like.

I blinked, breath hitching when I realised he’d caught me staring. Brown eyes now locked on mine. They were intense, squinted slightly beneath a band of dark lashes. He quirked a brow and I skirted my gaze away briefly, before I got over myself, as well as the strange feeling I felt, and moved across the room to join him.

He’d stopped tapping away when he’d glanced over at me, but he kept his sticks in his hands even as I rounded the kit, fingertips trailing across a cymbal.

“So, how you liking school?” 

I wasn’t sure why I asked that. But it felt like a safe place to start. To be honest, I wasn’t sure why I was starting up a conversation at all. I just felt the need to. 

“It’s school.” George replied and I chuckled at that, eyes flicking between the drum kit and his slumped form, his eyes followed my movements.

“I mean, you’re new right? So, was just wondering how it felt.” I shrugged, feeling a tad bit stupid but not letting it show.

George shrugged a single shoulder. “It’s alright, not the first time I’ve moved though.”

My eyebrows rose at that. “Oh yeah?”

He hummed, drumstick tapping against the inside of his wrist. “Yeah.”

I cracked a small smile, he wasn’t much of a talker. Or at least not with me.

“What made you join the band then?” I attempted, figuring I’d try my hand at a new subject. Gaze lingering on the rhythmic tic his hand made.

“You lot are nice enough. It gets me out the house.” He told me.

I dipped my head, I’d felt similarly at first. “I’ll take that.”

“Who says I was talking about you?” George quipped back all too quickly, one corner of his mouth deepening as he fought a smile. 

I narrowed my eyes at him. Baby drummer’s got jokes, it seemed. Definitely not shy then, maybe just out of his comfort zone..?

“You better be.” I told him in all seriousness. 

He chuckled softly and I practically beamed, proud that I’d been the one to cause it.

“Oi, are we fuckin’ practicing or you two just gonna stand about flirtin’ all night?”

My head snapped up at the sound of Matty’s vengeful voice and I felt a sudden anger radiate in me. In all the time I’d known Matty, never had he ever truly angered me- annoyed me, sure, pissed me off, of course! But angered me? No. He’d just tried to embarrass me now though, all but used me as a worthless pawn in this stupid grudge he held against George. Like it hadn’t just been him wasting everybody’s time. 

Where the fuck did he get off on judging my actions, anyway? When all we’d been doing was talking, and when I’d all but ignored George for as long as he’d been hanging around. 

“Are you serious?” I questioned him, hand falling away from the cymbal I’d been tinkering with and down to my side as I stared blankly back at him. He was off the phone now, but the thing was still dangling against his leg, a new can of cider taking up his other hand.

“Yeah. We’re all waiting.” Matty said with a snarky smile, extending his arms out either side of him. “So, you two done then or..?”

Hann looked vaguely uncomfortable, whilst Ross went to say something.

Only George beat him to it.

“Fuck off.” The blond scoffed at him, startling not just Matty, who his words had been aimed at, but all of us.

“Oh, so he speaks!” Matty mocked openly when he finally got over the shock of the unexpected reply, laughing at George now. “Aren’t you a bit too young to be swearing’ though, kid?”

“Aren’t you a bit too privileged to be acting like a whiney prick?” George shot straight back, deep voice staying at the same level it was always in.

Ross choked on a laugh and Hann’s mouth dropped open. My eyes widened on their own accord and darted between both Matty and George, who seemed to be in an uncomfortable standoff.

“You wanna say that a-fuckin’-gain?” Matty snapped back at him, anger fuelling his tone now. “You don’t know nothin' about me. So where the fuck d’you get off on callin’ me that?”

George’s mouth pulled up into a smirk and I was stunned. Unaware that he could even smile properly.

“Hit a nerve? You’re an entitled prick, mate.” George told him with a careless shrug, “You waste all of our time acting like an arse, then come back in here and try embarrass us for talking. Ain’t she meant to be your mate?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say so many words.” I heard Ross mutter, but was too enthralled in the matter at hand to find any amusement in it, though Hann on the other hand did. 

Matty grit his teeth, spitting a bit. “I’d be careful, yeah? ’Cause remember, you’re in my house. My fuckin’ band, alright?”

George snorted in reply, as though he could care less. Finding Matty amusing, which only proved to agitate him further. “Could be sat at the bottom of the ocean for all I care, mate, and you’d still be a massive fucking twat.”

Hann must’ve sensed it coming because he jumped up and grabbed Matty by the shoulders before he could make a lunge at George. He lugged the idiot out of the room before he could do anything else- which wasn’t hard in his less than sober state- all of us just watching on as Matty snarled every name under the sun at George.

The door closed behind them with a resounding slam that had me jumping slightly in my skin. 

A silence settled afterwards, eery and cold. The kind that made you realise all the heat had been bled from the room.

I turned away from the stare Ross seemed unable to help and tugged a hand through my hair, hoping that the gesture would give me a second to calm the pounding of my heart, the wetness in my eyes.

I was shaken. 

Which was the last thing I ever expected to feel when I was with the boys. This garage was my safe place, they were my safe place. And I suddenly felt so stupid for letting myself get so caught up in it all.

I coughed lightly to cover up the sniff I couldn’t help but make and turned back to face the two remaining lads with a very forced smile.

“Guess that’s practice over then.” I chuckled lowly, moving away from George to start packing things away.

“Guess so.” Ross added awkwardly, scratching what little there was to the beard he’d been trying to grow.

I saw George shake his head out of the corner of my eye, but he didn’t say anything so the three of us just started silently moving things about. Ross put the combos and guitars back in the corner, before he made a start on wrapping up wires. George picked up the rubbish that’d been tossed about the room, then worked on moving the larger amps to one side. 

I grabbed the expensive mic Matty had discarded on the floor and put it back in its case, before I wandered over to dismantle the mic stand. It was easy enough but often grew tricky by the third bar where it was always tighter. I tried tugging it a few times before I huffed to myself, it was then that George came over to squat down beside me and help out.

“Thanks.” I murmured once he’d released the two bars from one another, handing them over wordlessly.

“No worries.” He mentioned, and I focused hard on not glancing his way again as I continued to place the parts of the stand in another styrofoam case. He cleared his throat lightly, still there, and I chewed the inside of my cheek, expecting him to speak again. He did. “I’m sorry if I made things worse. I know you and him are close, but… I dunno, he just rilled me up.”

I had to look at George then, surprised by his maturity. Not many people apologised for their part in things, especially when they hadn’t really been at fault. It was new to me.

“You’re fine. He just gets like that sometimes. Don’t worry about it, yeah?”

I stood then and moved across the room to put the cases in the locker Matty liked to keep them in, not giving George the chance to reply. All I wanted now was my bed. But that meant going home, and that upped the chances of me running into my mum and her new boyfriend.

Hann came back a few short minutes after, looking like a piano had been dropped on his head. He sighed defeatedly, rubbing a hand over his face as he closed the door behind him.

“What happened?” Ross asked, blue cable wound up in his right hand.

Adam levelled him with a look. “His mum, they got into an argument, woke Louis. He ended up leaving.”

I withheld a sigh. For fucks sake, Matty.

“Sorry about that, mate.” Hann added, looking to George now. The boy waved him off but Adam chewed on his lower lip for a second, then glanced between the three of us. “You lot ready to head off then?”

We all gave an assorted sound of approval, finishing up with whatever tasks we’d started before we moved to grab our bags. The four of us headed out of the garage in silence and I felt a bit bad not saying goodbye to Denise like I typically did, but knew she probably had worser things to worry about than me. So the garage door slid shut behind us on its automatic hinge and we all set off down the drive. 

When we reached the bottom, Ross stopped me short with a gentle hand to my elbow.

“You gonna be alright?” He asked, and I knew why but feigned I was fine.

“‘Course.”

He left it at that. 

We all walked to the bottom of Matty’s street and it got to the point in the road where we usually went our separate ways.

“Skive off tomorrow so we can practice?” Hann suggested as we came to a slow halt and Ross and George both nodded, before the three of them turned to me. I blinked, surprised by the offer.

“Um, yeah. Okay.”

“Good.” Ross grinned, nudging my arm with his own. “‘Cause we need our manager there to keep us sane.”

I huffed out an airy chuckle and rolled my eyes at him. “See you tomorrow, MacDonald.”

Ross gifted me quirked grin and Adam tugged me into a short hug before they then said their goodbyes to George. My brow pinched at that and was suddenly filled with sudden apprehension when I realised that George was in fact headed my way too.

In all the weeks he’d been at practice, I typically spent a little while longer hanging about Matty’s whilst the rest of them headed home. So this was the first time I realised that I’d be walking back with George.

“Tomorrow, ten am, yeah?” Hann reminded and we all nodded, the question of whether Matty would make an appearance went unsaid.

Ross and Hann begun to pull away and I found myself turning away too, taking a step back and inhaling when George followed. 

We both walked quietly for a minute or two, just taking in the late evening air. I hiked my bag higher up my shoulder and was both relieved and full of anxiety when he finally spoke up.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but if you do, well I don’t mind listening.”

My brows rose in honest surprise. Quiet George was willing to break the silence he so often favoured for little old me?

I wanted to brush his attempt off, make out like I was fine and crack a joke to ebb the tension. But I couldn’t, because I was full of too many emotions that I couldn’t make out which ones were real and which ones were fake. 

I tugged on my lower lip before I licked at the flesh there, eyes on the steps I took, shoes trailing over cracks in the cobblestones.

“He’s never been like that before. Least not with me.” I had to state, wanting to stick up for Matty even though he’d been an utter prat. “Just surprised me ’s all.”

“Still gave him no right.” George replied and I wanted to bite back at him, release that anger his comment stirred in me, but he was right.

I ticked my jaw from side to side, then shrugged. “He’s going through a lot.”

“Aren’t we all?”

I peered over towards him then, that rhetorical question sounded more like an admission. I didn’t comment on it though. I had no right.

“Yeah.” I said quietly instead.

We walked a little further and I found myself glancing up at him from time to time. He was almost a head taller than me, and had a strong nose that was softened by the freckles on his cheeks and the droop of his eyes.

“You excited for tomorrow night?” I asked him, my voice and the hum of the old railway were the only things to make any noise.

George gazed down at me, “‘Spose.”

I couldn’t help my soft laughter. “You suppose?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, smirking faintly now, “Might’ve felt differently if we’d managed to finish working on the set.”

“Fair.” I chuckled.

“What about you?”

I don’t know why but I was surprised he’d reiterated the question back to me. Maybe it was because I’d figured we’d just slump along in awkward silence. But I didn’t feel any awkwardness at all.

“I’m looking forward to it. You guys are incredible.” I told him honestly, “A little apprehensive, but I know you’ll pull it off whatever happens.”

George hummed. “Hold you to it.”

I laughed again, only to realise we’d made it to the end of my street. “I’m up there.” I told him, pointing towards a dark house further up.

He jerked his head in a nod, looking away from the row of homes to gesture towards the street over. “I’m that way.”

It was my turn to hum now, rocking back slightly on my feet. “So I’ll see you tomorrow then…”

With a dip of his chin and his hands in his pockets, George just nodded as we parted ways.

And I did see him that next day. Only it wasn’t in Matty’s garage, because he was stood waiting for me at the end of my street.

…

It was that first gig together that sent a solidifying ripple through Matty and George’s tentative relationship.

We’d all met up that Friday morning, as planned, George and I having walked into Matty’s garage on the defence, but it’d seemed that the curly haired lad was singing a whole other tune. Matty had appeared truly apologetic for how things had gone down the previous night, and not just to me either. He even went out of his way to have a talk with George outside before we got down to business, which had surprised the three of us who remained.

When the pair of them had come back in, Matty was grinning from ear to ear and George’s eyes were set on me, I smiled when I noticed him wearing one of his own.

That was the first practice we all ended up really enjoying, and it’d been just in time too because the guys went out and absolutely killed their gig later that evening. They’d had half the locals up on their feet and gotten the pub packed full with a bunch of people from school. It’d definitely been a night to remember, not just because of how it had all worked out in the end, but it’d also been the night that Matty changed the band’s name- again.

—

“Mattyyyy, I swear! I just don’t know what to do!” I whined from where I was hanging off the side of his huge wooden bed.

Matty was propped up just below me on his phone texting whoever, his mum having invited me over for Sunday tea. I smacked his arm when he only continued to ignore me.

“Jesus. What do you want me to say!” Matty exclaimed, snorting when he glanced up at me and caught sight of my very distressed frown. “It’s just George, babe. He’s harmless.”

“I fucking know that! But… I don’t know, it’s just-”

I was about to say weird. But I’d stopped myself before I could let the word slip, because that didn’t feel like the right way to describe how I felt about it.

You see, for some maddening reason George had taken it upon himself to start popping up every and anywhere I might be. A bit like an annoying fly really. 

It’d started with the waiting. Remember? That first morning we skived off school to practice for their gig… Well, George had taken that as a silent invitation to continue doing exactly that, just every day.

Not just that either. He seemed to appear whenever he pleased, too. Had taken to sitting in the seat beside me during maths because he knew I sucked at it. Shared his food with me, or would slide a couple quid across the table, whenever I had no lunch. And I kept finding his eyes on me more often than not. 

The whole thing was driving me mad and I had zero clue as to why. Because it was anything any other normal mate would do. Hell, it was exactly what the other boys would do for me as well as one another, it’s what Vicky tended to do whenever we would have one of our catch ups. But things just felt a whole lot different with George.

It was like he always knew more than he was letting on. And that on its own set me on edge.

I didn’t want or need anyone digging any deeper than what I allowed, I couldn’t have anyone seeing what I tried so hard to hide.

And so the situation with George did grate on me a bit. And I had taken to complaining to Matty about it every chance I got. Not that the dickhead seemed to care, he was always off in his own world. Had his own shit to deal with. Seeing how his mum and dad were currently in the middle of a divorce, I could understand why he found my hysterical venting amusing.

Still.

“Look, he’s just bein’ friendly. Might even have a bit of a crush on you, babe- ‘cause I mean, what’s not to like, ey?” Matty grinned, winking up at me from the floor, I groaned and rolled my eyes in reply. “Anyway, it’ll blow over soon enough and hey, you might even miss the attention.”

I scowled and tossed one of the many pillows his bed homed at his giant head. 

That was the last time I spoke to Matty about it. Deciding then and there that I’d just let George do as he pleased, if it made him happy helping me out or tagging along, then fine. He could have it his way. I’d just have to find a way to get over it.

—

It was late. Nearing two in the morning and I was still wide awake.

I could hear them, in the room next to mine. They’d been at it for hours now, long enough that I was both mortified and utterly mystified by the fact that the neighbours had yet to have the police knocking down our door.

He was fucking her now, but in a minute or two they’d be back to fighting again. You could count on it. Mum and Steven moved like clockwork. Steven was her newest thing, they’d been together a few short weeks now, ever since Julio had come and gone. Julio who had stuck around the longest so far, a whole nine months. The guy had been a layabout, but he hadn’t ever laid a hand on me. Something I was grateful for, but something Steven couldn’t account for as well.

No, Steven was a lot more violent than the rest, but I much preferred violence over-

I inhaled, in and out. Out then in.

I buried my face further into my pillowcase. I had school in the morning, and no idea how I was going to function if things continued like this.

I kept on breathing though. Attempting to tune them out. To sleep.

I knew it’d been a long time coming but I still startled when I heard the thud and then the loud wail which followed. I froze in my bed but couldn’t stop myself from listening out. Wondering if this was the hit that finally killed her.

No. 

She was calling out to him again. Trying to stop it, stop him, trying to calm him down. 

But you should know better by now, mum.

“Stop! Julio, stop please!” 

My breath caught in the back of my throat at her pleading shout. Either Julio had finally reappeared in my mum’s bedroom during the middle of the night, or my mum had done something so incredibly stupid. She’d called Steven by another man’s name.

“The fuck did you just call me?” I heard him bellow through the paper thin walls of our tiny townhouse. Another thump. And then an ominous thud.

“Steven! I said Steven!” My mum wailed.

She sounded so desperate I had to squeeze my eyes close, as though I was the one facing the brunt of his fists.

He started roaring, swearing loudly in that Liverpool accent of his. And rained down on her harder than anyone else ever had. Thump after thump. She screamed, cried, wailed. Pleading loudly now, loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear. So how could he not?

But we all knew he could, he just didn’t care. To him she was merely a toy.

“Steven!”

I hadn’t even realised I was up and out of my bed, let alone standing on the landing, before I was staring up into a face full of fury. 

The door to their bedroom had been wrenched open, my fingers pale and tight around the handle, though I could hardly feel the metal beneath them now.

“The fuck do you want?”

I had no time to even answer him, my eyes locked on my mum’s bloody form when a fist came flying at me. It sent me back, knocked me into the banister hard enough to welt my spine, and I whimpered but made no other noise, keeping my jaw locked tight and my bleary eyes trained on him even as he approached. Stomping like the child he was.

“Fuckin’ miserable little thing you. Yer mother never teach you to mind yer business- yer manners?” He spat at me, and I took it as well as the next thump when he propelled my head off the wooden railing behind me. “Breathe another word and you’ll be in for worse next time. Now fuck off, would ya.”

I slid by him as fast as I could without looking like I was about to piss myself, my mum stood in the bedroom doorway now, lip and face bloodied around a lazy smile. “Night, sweetheart.” She said, like nothing was the matter. 

I forced a lump of bile back down my throat and nodded, knowing if I ignored her I’d only be in for another blow- or a shove down the stairs.

She and Steven went back inside, him thundering as he went and shouting some more. I let go of the shaky breath I'd been clinging on to before I tiptoed as quickly as I could into my own room. I grabbed my mobile and my trainers, brain practically working on autopilot, then I was down the stairs and out the front door before I could second guess it.

I don’t know how far I walked or what time it was but I remember calling Matty. I called a few times actually, each time it went straight to voicemail. His phone was off.

I debated phoning Adam or Ross, maybe even Vicky. But I couldn’t bring myself to do so.

Instead I wrapped my arms around my chest, shivering without really feeling the cold that swept past me and letting my feet lead me wherever they pleased. My body seemed to collapse somewhere between the bridge on Brook Street and the little playground a couple blocks over from mine though. I curled up on the bench there, dragged my knees up towards my shoulders and clung to them tightly.

I stared off into the darkness for a little while. Not caring what I looked like or who might find me come sunrise. Just staring ahead at the squeaking swings in the distance and the grassy fields that surrounded the nearby estate.

“Y/n?”

I blinked at the sound of my name, but had to hear it a few more times before I finally pulled myself out of the daze I’d fallen into and looked away.

I was stunned to see George stood there towering above me, clad in a grey hoodie and a pair of jogging shorts. His face was one of complete shock, something that would’ve made me laugh any other day, seeing as he was always so stoic looking. But I couldn’t. Not then. I didn’t even know how I was still breathing.

“Fucking hell, what, what h-”

George stopped himself short and approached me with a wary caution, I was thankful he hadn’t finished that sentence and didn’t stop him when he took the seat beside me on the wearing wooden bench.

He must’ve tugged his hoodie off at some point because I felt him drape it around me in the next moment. It was warm, a stark and sudden contrast to the numbness I’d been feeling since I’d left my bed.

“What are you doing here?” I croaked out, once the panic had become too much to bare and I felt as though every nerve-ending in my body was slowly igniting. I had to fill the silence with something. I didn’t want to think any longer. I couldn’t. Not with questions like ‘Was she even still alive?’ and ‘Did she even care?’ on my mind. 

“I,” George started, drawing my focus, and seemed to take a deep breath before he continued on, “I like going on walks, when I can’t sleep. Helps clear my head.”

I let that lie between us and then asked, “Why?” 

I stared blankly ahead again, too scared to face him. Or rather, him face me. To see the damaged goods I really was. 

“My mum’s home.” He told me quietly, wind whistling around us. I found it comforting that he knew instantly what question I’d really been asking. 

I hummed. My mum was home too, but I wished she wasn’t.

“She works a lot. Abroad mostly, ’s why we move around so much.” George explained to me, and I knew why he was telling me all this when he’d never let a word slip about his home life before. 

It was an eye for an eye situation. He’d seen me like this, battered and bruised. And wanted to make sure it was clear that he didn’t have the upper hand here, that I wouldn’t think he had something he could use against me.

“My dad reckons she means well, but…” He just shrugged, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts. I took note of the thin white tee he wore and the way he tried not to shiver. “We don’t get on.”

“She ever hurt you?”

I don’t know why I asked it. But I did. I wanted to pry, to cut him open and see if he bled the same way I had. 

“Slapped me twice. First time, she cried. Second, was tonight.” 

I let that sink in.

“My mum’s boyfriend did this.” I let slip quietly, hoping that the wind around us was strong enough to howl over my words. But I’d never been that lucky. George tensed beside me. Rigid as a rock. He’d heard.

In and out. I repeated the motion, the words on a loop in my head.

“You know that coffee shop over on Durham?” He asked me next, catching me off guard. Confused, I nodded. “You reckon you can get there?”

I nodded again, though I was still unsure. On whether I could make it, and if I should trust him here. It wouldn’t be the first time someone close to me let me down.

George seemed to sense my uncertainty and merely waited me out.

I took a deep breath after a long moment had passed and stood on shaky legs. He came to a stand next to me but kept his hands firmly in his pockets, making sure I noticed that fact too. A gesture that eased a fraction of my anxiety.

Slowly we walked together over to the small coffee shop that was open all hours, not uttering a single word the entire way. My body ached but I carried on, slipping his hoodie on properly once we’d finally neared the shops flickering ‘open’ sign. I tugged the hood up too to hide some of my face before we entered, unsure of what I might’ve looked like.

George went in first and held the door open for me, making sure to stay in my line of sight at all times, even when he offered to go order whilst I found us a table.

I grunted to myself when my tender skin brushed against the back of the booth I’d chosen in the far corner, one where I could watch the door and have no one at my back.

I sat there, waiting, and attempted to occupy my mind with the quiet song which was playing overhead, fingers fidgeting with the salt shaker all the while. 

George returned a few minutes afterwards, tray in hand. He motioned towards it once he’d sat down opposite. “Got a couple warm drinks- you like tea right?” He asked me, and I nodded, surprised that he’d remembered, before he carried on, “Got a cup of water too, to clean your face up if you wanted.”

I swallowed thickly at the kind thought and carefully guided one of the warm mugs he’d purchased towards me, wrapping my hands around it and savouring its steaming heat.

“I can’t really see it, so there’s no point.” I murmured, staring down into the milky brew.

He was quiet for a few seconds, shaking a sugar packet before pouring it into his coffee. “I can do it if you want.”

I peered up at him and tried to hide my wariness. The way my body immediately stilled and pulled away. George didn’t say anything about it though, just continued to stir his overly sweetened cup.

I licked at my lip and tasted the thick metal that then coated my tongue. It was that which drove me to nod at him. George didn’t smile or acknowledge my nervousness, merely took a napkin and dipped it into the water. We both leant in further across the table at the same time. I forced myself to stay frozen when he begun to dab at my broken skin.

After a few napkins had been stained a crimson red, I finally relaxed a tad, glancing up at George’s own face whilst he worked deftly on mine.

It was then that I noticed the mark he’d mentioned having received earlier. A scatter of faint red dots in the shape of fingers sat alongside a fine welt that rested on his cheekbone. It made me wonder what had happened. If he’d been asking for it or if she’d done it out of anger.

Had I been asking for it? I wondered, drawing back into myself a tad. But stopped when I hissed outwardly, snapping my eyes up to meet his.

“Sorry.”  George murmured, trying to be gentler when he wiped at my lip again.

“It’s okay. Just, didn’t expect it.”

He nodded in quiet understanding but said nothing further, and soon enough he tossed the final napkin onto the pile he’d made and simply went back to his coffee. I couldn’t help my tiny smile. Thankful, for once, to have him there.

…

After that night I started to lean on George a little bit more. More than I should’ve, in truth. 

I was hardly even aware of though, until it was much too late. ’Til I realised I was looking at him in a whole other light. One I’d taken to avoiding since the day I’d met him. 

We walked to school together every morning, met the guys at the gates and then separated from them at first bell. We hauled up in the music room at break, talking and telling one another quiet truths. Spent lunchtime smoking behind the bike shed, sometimes with Vicky, other times with one or two of the boys. We went to practice together and then walked home together. Met up when either one of us ‘couldn’t sleep’ and got far too familiar with the staff in Bru, that coffee shop we’d ventured into that first night. Even took to exploring the city I’d lived in my whole life. Travelling down to the yard, and wasting days in the park and arcade. 

I depended on him always being there, I realised after a short while, and didn’t really seem to mind it. Which was as much strange as it was terrifying. George quickly became my person, a truth in a world full of lies. It was hard to comprehend most days.

—

“Oi, you’re definitely coming to Jamie’s party tonight right?” Vicky called out to me from across the worktop, we were currently in food tech and she was trying her very hardest to save the burnt sponge she’d made to no avail.

My eyes darted over to where George was stood working on the table over, then nodded at her. “Should be.”

“Great.” She grinned at me, “You bringing your boys along with you?”

I cocked an amused brow at her. She’d taken to calling them that. My boys.

“Don’t own them.”

Vic rolled her eyes at my answer then turned to shout over her shoulder at George before I could think to stop her, “You coming tonight then, Daniels?”

George’s head swivelled around towards us but it took him a second to stop working on his white icing before he answered. He glanced towards me first, a question dancing in his eyes. I gave a subtle nod, not even thinking about it. He mimicked it. “Should be.” He told her, wiping his dirty hands on a damp tea towel.

Vicky groaned loudly in return, “You two, I swear! You drive me insane.”

George’s forehead furrowed, obviously confused by her obvious irritation.

“She said the exact same thing!” Vicky huffed in explanation before she turned on him once more, “Just do me a favour and make sure she’s there, alright? It’s important.”

I released a light air of laughter whilst George’s mouth just quirked upwards into a small smile, he saluted her like a soldier would a general. “Yes, mam.”

“Ooh, I like the sound of that.” Vicky mentioned, a devious smile liming her lips.

I snorted. 

“At ease, soldier.” I said to George before he wandered over to join me, swiping a finger through my freshly sifted icing. “Oi!”

“What?” George questioned me innocently, as though he hadn’t just put his grubby fingers in my food.

“I swear if Hanson marks me down ‘cause of that, I will string you up by the balls and dangle you from the school’s roof.” I warned him seriously.

Vicky giggled to herself, “Kinky.”

I rolled my eyes at her, whilst George just smirked, taking claim of my seat.

“You finished with yours then?” I asked him, still working on the roses I’d sculpted for the top of my dessert.

He hummed a quiet confirmation and begun to play with the string of my apron. I peered over at his station and was a tad bit impressed by the cake I saw. Vicky followed and whistled at the sight of it.

“Wow, Daniels. If drumming doesn’t work out for you, baking just might.”

“A man of many talents, our Georgie.” I teased, bopping his nose and staining the tip of it with a print of icing sugar. Vic giggled again and George scrunched his face up at me.

“George Daniel, in your seat please!” Miss Hanson interrupted as she looped back round and George gave me a ‘what can you do?” sort of look, before he sighed and went back to his assigned seat, wiping a hand full of icing across my cheek as he did so. I gasped. 

“Prick!”

“Miss Y/l/n, language! Might I remind you that we are in a classroom not a zoo.”

I gifted the woman a strained smile and felt my left eye twitch. “Yes, Miss Hanson. Sorry, Miss Hanson.”

She merely harrumphed and plodded away, I made a face at her back. Vic snorted behind a crumb covered hand.

“That woman will be the death of me, I swear.” I grumbled unhappily.

Vicky was smirking when I glanced back up at her though, doing little to hide her ever rising amusement. I knew right then what was coming just by the look on her face.

“Detention, Miss Y/l/n. Lunchtime.” Miss Hanson grunted out and instantly my face fell. Vicky continued to snicker away at my expense. 

“You’ll pay for that.” I mouthed to her, only to receive a feigned blameless smile in response. It was in that next moment that Miss Hanson shouted out again.

“Mr Daniel, same goes to you! Lunchtime detention. What on earth has gotten into all of you?”

Both Vicky and I snapped our attention in the direction of George’s table to find that he’d upturned a bowl full of flour onto the counter and drawn a leaking appendage into it. Both of our eyes widened before we burst out laughing. 

“Miss Taylor, do you wish to join them both?” Miss Hanson threatened and Vicky was quick to quieten down, shaking her head at the older woman. 

“No, miss.”

“Good, then I advise you to continue with your work.”

Miss Hanson moved on after that and whilst I struggled to get ahold of my chuckles, I saw Vicky waggle her brows at me before she jerked her chin over towards George, who was cleaning up his powdery mess. Confused, I shot her a bewildered look. But she merely smirked in turn, shaking her head at me.

I frowned but continued on rolling my roses, mind lingering on what she could’ve possibly meant. 

…

Jamie Taylor’s parties were always something to remember.

The first one I’d ever gone to was for J’s birthday, he’d gone all out for it, decorated a bit, even had one of his mate’s older brothers supply a couple crates and bottles for us all. 

Originally it’d been his mum that had forced him to invite Vicky and I along, which had put a bit of a downer on the whole thing, but the pair of us had been far too excited to have the chance to hang ‘round with the older kids at school and dress up a bit to care. 

In truth, it’d been the first proper party I’d ever attended- if you didn’t count the one Sarah Whelts had thrown back in primary school, though that had been just as sick seeing as she’d had it in the local Maccies. 

But yeah, that party was also the first time I snogged a lad. Like properly. It’d actually been with one of Jamie’s friends- his best mate, if we were being dead honest here- and it’d had my head spinning. Vicky had caught the two of us in the upstairs loo though and hadn’t shut up about it for weeks afterwards. To say she’d put me off wanting to get with him again was a massive understatement, she’d hung it over my head for ages, threatening to let it slip to J whenever she was in one of her annoying moods.

This time around though, all I wanted was to have a good time. After the shit day I’d had, I figured I deserved the chance to drown my sorrows.

“Hey, hey! There she is!” 

I glanced up just as I made it through the front door and gave a smile when I spotted the man of the hour headed my way.

“Alright, Jaim.” I greeted as he roped an arm around me to pull me into a tight hug, he smelt of his usual aftershave and the lingering tinge of smoke.

“I’m grand, babe.” Jamie grinned back, looking down at me now as he pulled away a tad, arm still hanging off my shoulders. “Glad you made it though, ain’t seen you in ages. Vic said it was like pullin’ teeth tryna get an answer out of you.”

I rolled my eyes at the theatrics and laughed lightly. “Yeah, well she’s a drama queen.”

“Don’t I know it.” Jamie sighed, all put-upon before he chuckled.

We were interrupted then by a hoard full of boys. My boys as a matter of fact.

“Well hello, don’t you look stunnin’! Been looking all over for you.” Matty greeted merrily, beer already in hand as he accosted me in the hallway. I released a happy laugh of my own when he smacked a big kiss to my cheek and took my hand in his. “You only just get here?”

I nodded in faint reply before I pulled away from Jamie’s embrace to envelope both Ross and Hann into a hug, giving them my hello’s too. “Yeah, had stuff to do first. How long you lot been here?” I asked, but my eyes darted behind them in search of George. “And where’s G?”

The nickname was relatively new, but I’d always said that his name felt far too long. G seemed to be sticking anywho.

Matty kissed his teeth as his eyes scanned the room, fingers still attached to mine. “He was here a while ago- came with us, didn’t he.”

“Think he went out for a fag.” Ross mentioned to me before his eye caught Stacey Donahue dancing away in the corner. Hann and I shared a knowing smile before the giant made his excuses and dipped away. 

“How you lads enjoyin’ the party then?”

I startled slightly at Jamie’s voice, having completely forgotten he’d been stood there with us. Although it did look like he’d just been quietly welcoming people as they arrived, whilst I’d been caught up.

Matty beamed at the question and raised the neck of his drink at him, “Great time, mate. As always.”

Jamie chuckled, “Cheers. Um, you two mind if I have a word with this lady ‘ere though?”

The lazy grin Matty wore grew at Jamie’s ask and Hann was smirking to himself as he nodded. “‘Course.” He replied for the both of them, before sparing a glance at me, “Come find us soon, yeah?”

My brow pinched and I could only nod at his request, ignoring Matty’s drunken snickering before Jamie gestured his head over to the right and begun leading me away, through the kitchen and its rowdy partygoers, out into the garden.

The air outside was a bit chilly, but I was still wearing the denim jacket George had lent me earlier that afternoon, so I didn’t feel it so much. I peered around at a few of the people who’d decided to gather in the garden, some of them smoking around the fire-pit, others sprawled out on the grass beneath the gazebo.

“What’s up?” I asked Jamie once he’d finished saying hello to a couple of his mates that had decided to head back inside just as we came out. He looked over at me.

Jamie had always been a good looking lad. You know, the typical pretty boy type. With his light eyes and cheeky smile. I remembered how much I used to fancy him growing up, not just ‘cause he was nice to look at, but because he’d always looked out for me, never made me feel stupid or less than. He was just a decent guy.

But it was a surprise to me then though to see him looking so sheepish, scratching at the jut of his jaw whilst his eyes skirted around me. Jamie was anything but shy, even when he was getting a good hiding he was still smirking away.

“You alright?” I asked him around a light chuckle, unsure on what he’d even wanted me for.

“Yeah, yeah.” He was quick to assure me, fighting to dampen his growing grin when he finally met my mirthful eyes. “Just needed a breather, you know. Mental in there.”

“What, and you just decided you’d use me as an excuse?” I teased, unable to help myself and fighting back a laugh when his eyes widened.

“Nah, no, nothing like that.” Jamie hurried out.

I just shook my head my head in return with a sweet smile, hands tucked in the pockets of my jacket. “I’m messing, J. What’s up? You seem on edge.”

He heaved out a big breath and left me waiting on a real reply, he was honestly starting to worry me a tad but now, never had I heard him go so long without speaking. He was almost as bad as Vic herself- maybe it was a family thing.

“Jaim?”

“Sorry.” Jamie sighed and dragged a frustrated hand down across his face. “Sorry just- reckon I need another drink.” 

He laughed lightly, clearly trying to ease some of the tension he felt, and I joined but only for something to do. Still so confused.

“You gonna hold me hostage out here all night?” I prodded, raising my eyebrows at him with a soft smile when he peered my way.

He rolled his eyes with an amused grin, before he cut to it. “Listen, we’ve been mates for ages, right?”

Slowly I nodded at him. I’d call Jamie a friend, but it felt weird him acknowledging it, in my eyes, to him, I’d always just be his little sister’s tagalong.

“Right. Exactly.” Jamie barrelled on, not sensing my bewilderment. “And you probably know me best, innit? Like out of everyone- aside from me mum and me dad, probably Vic too.”

I wouldn’t say that but, “I ‘spose.”

“Good.” He dipped his head in a jerky nod and, honestly, I would’ve thought he was on something, the way he was acting, if I hadn’t been looking up into his eyes. “Yeah, so what I’m basically tryna say here is that-”

Jamie’s little tangent was promptly cut short by the arm that engulfed me. “B, ‘ve been lookin’ all over for you.”

Immediately I grinned, already knowing just who it’d been by the freckles that dotted their wrist and the familiar scent that wrapped its way around me. I lifted my head up to stare into George Daniel’s familiar eyes, their brown blown wide and hidden slightly by the squint of his smile.

“You made it!” I exclaimed happily, my hand reaching up to meet his at my shoulder, I gave it a quick squeeze and he nodded down at me.

“Said I would.” He replied and we shared another smile.

It was then that George seemed to realise he’d interrupted the conversation I’d just been having, his brows jumped upwards as he turned to look at Jamie.

“Oh sorry, mate. Didn’t mean to barge in.” George apologised with a smaller smile, glancing between us, “Just spotted her as I was headin’ back in.”

“You’re alright.” I assured George, “J was just having a quick word.”

“I’ll leave you to it then. Meet you inside?” George offered and I wanted so badly to wave it off, yank him back over to the side of the house where I knew he’d been hiding, and share a joint or two. But Jamie…

“If you don’t mind, mate.” Jamie nodded, his smile a little tight. I frowned, but glanced back up at George to make sure he was really okay with it.

“‘Course.” He smiled easily, squeezing my hand and pressing his nose into my hair as he pressed a quick peck to my temple. Something that was relatively new to us. Though I couldn’t help the butterflies it seems to erupt. “Bye bye Birdie.”

I snorted softly as he untangled himself, smirking all the while. Hating having ever let it slip that I loved that film. 

He saluted me before slipping through the back door and I turned back to Jamie with a fond smile I didn’t even realise I was wearing.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” I asked him now that he finally had my full focus again.

Jamie stared at me long and hard, before a strange look crossed over his face. Almost one of realisation, or maybe resignation? It baffled me but I didn’t have the chance to question it. 

“You know what-” Jamie breathed out, his smile small now but still genuine as he reached a hand out to brush against my shoulder. I glanced down at it briefly before he was speaking again. “Don’t worry about it. I can tell you another time, yeah?”

Forehead pinched in utter confusion, I wanted to prod at him further but he was shutting down before my very eyes by putting up a loud and extraverted bravado. One he usually let slip around those he was comfortable with. I wondered what I’d possibly done wrong.

“It’s a party, ain’t it? Lemme grab you a beer- you just enjoy yourself!”

Then he was squeezing my arm and breezing past me before I could get a word in edgeways.

I stood there on the patio, lost. Head so busy just trying to work out what the hell had happened that I didn’t even notice Vicky until she was there hanging off my arm.

“Did he tell you? Did he tell you?” She questioned me in her tipsy state, not even giving me the time to answer before she was pestering me with a dozen other confusing questions, “What d’ya say? Did you say you it back? Did you let him kiss you? Wait, don’t answer that one- don’t think I want to know.” 

My brain short-circuited. 

Only half aware, I felt myself glance through the window into the kitchen, to where Jamie now stood pouring a couple drinks, surrounded by people. His eyes met mine through the glass, before they trailed over to where his sister was now jumping about excitedly beside me, his face paled at the realisation. 

Shit. Jamie liked me.

—

Jamie kept his distance after that night. Didn’t try to bring it up again or actually admit what, I was now afraid, he’d been about to. 

Though the whole thing did confuse me- if it had been that that he’d been so close to admitting to, then what had stopped him? Was it because of George’s interruption, or had he just thought better of it?

They nibbled away at me, all these thoughts. But I tried to keep them at bay, ignore them as best I could. Because I could honestly have the entirely wrong end of the stick here, and maybe, just maybe Jamie wasn't actually avoiding me, maybe he was just busy with exams, and school, footie…

I groaned to myself, feeling a headache brewing. So much for ignoring the topic.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, cupcake?”

I scowled at the tap I received to the side of my skull and swatted halfheartedly when Ross dropped himself down onto the grass beside me.

The rest of lads, plus Vicky, were all up at the ice-cream van that’d pulled up at the curb by the entrance to the park. I hadn’t wanted anything when they’d all started to wander over, having heard the whining tune, whilst Ross had called in his winnings with Matty (the two of them were always betting on something or other) and asked for ‘a 99 with a flake and sprinkles, please!’

I’d been glad to have it just be me and him for a short while, I’d been feeling off all day and he was usually the one who didn’t ever mind my moods. 

“Nothing.” I told him, picking at daisies that had just begun to litter the grass.

“What not even a cymbal-banging monkey?”

I breathed out an airy chuckle. “Why, is that all you’re used to?”

“Yup. That and tits.” He shrugged and I snorted an unexpected laugh.

“Pig.”

Ross merely grinned before he nudged me again. “Come on, get it off your mind before them lot come barging back over.”

I glanced out across the field, saw Matty pissing about with Vicky by the roadside and the way Hann struggled to keep his ice-cream from dripping down his hand. Then looked back to Ross. He’d kicked his legs out wide, palms splayed out behind him whilst his skateboard rested beside his foot.

“It’s nothing, stupid really.” I told him and watched the way he quirked an encouraging brow at me, obviously wanting me to carry on. I released a heavy sigh, “Can’t really talk to anyone about it, you know? Or it feels that way.”

“Well, I’m sat here asking, so tell me. You know I don’t care- could tell me you just bleached your armpits and I’d only ask to see.”

I smiled, shaking my head at his strange reply. But that was just Ross, he made you feel so at ease. Like you really could tell him anything.

“Fine. Just, you know Jamie?” I ventured carefully, gaze on the tiny flowers I was fiddling with in my lap. 

“‘Course. Vicky’s brother- plays striker, don’t he?”

I hummed, “Yeah, him.”

“Alright, what about him?” Ross prompted and I could feel his eyes lingering on my hands, watching as I made holes in the stems of the daisies I’d collected. 

“Something happened with him the other night, at his party.”

“Did he do something?” Ross’s hardened tone made me blink and so I was quick to snap my head up to reassure him.

“No, no. Nothing bad. Just something he said, or well, something Vic mentioned after we’d spoke.”

“You’re being pretty vague here.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “I know, sorry. I just- it’s strange to say out loud. I feel like I’ve got it all turned around in my head.”

“Alright well, just tell me what happened and I’ll see if you have or not.”

I wet my lower lip in thought then ultimately decided that it couldn’t hurt. The worst Ross would do is poke fun at me, and I knew wholeheartedly he wouldn’t say a word to the others.

“It started when I left you lot, he wanted to have a word and took me outside.” I started to explain, “He was acting right weird. Just not himself, you know? A bit nervous, I ‘spose.”

Ross hummed when I paused for a breath.

“And he was trying to tell me something. Thought it was gonna be something bad- what with they way he was acting- and he was just about to finally spit it out when G wandered over. We’d spoken for a few minutes, just normal shit, said hi and whatnot. Introduced him to Jamie. Then he headed inside, but when he’d gone Jamie lost his nerve. Put up this front and told me to forget about whatever he’d been about to say. Acted as though it was nothing important.”

“Right…”

“Then he shot off before I could say another word! I was so fucking confused, Ross. Beyond it actually. And then Vic came over, drunk and spewing a whole load of crap. Asking question after question. She-” I couldn’t say it for a moment, scared if I voiced it that it would sound stupid. But I inhaled and just forced the words out anyway. “She asked if he’d finally told me, if I felt the same way… if he’d kissed me.”

“Oh.” Ross said and I shot him a strained look.

“Oh. That’s really all you have to say?”

Ross’s eyes widened as he chuckled, “Sorry! Just, I mean, it was sort of obvious.”

I frowned. “What was?”

“Jamie. Matt and I have been betting on him asking you out since the week after we met you.”

“Ross!” I exclaimed, in utter disbelief.

“What?” He squawked in retort, mimicking as he withheld a laugh.

“Don’t what me, you knob! You knew he liked me and said nothing??”

“Yeah. I had ten quid on him bricking it whilst Matty reckoned he’d do it before Christmas. Then Christmas passed and we changed the terms to that he’d just ask you out.”

I stared back at him.

“You didn’t tell me because there was money at stake?”

“That, and we both knew it’d drive a wedge between your friendship with Vic. Then she finally caught on to it as well and we were gonna say something, but by then G had come along.”

My brow furrowed, “The fuck has George got to do with it?”

Ross levelled me with a look. I gave him one straight back. And it was then that he blinked and seemed to realise I really had no idea what he was on about.

“Wow. You’re so fucking oblivious, cupcake.”

I smacked his chest. “Ross. I’m not playing about here.”

“Christ.” He hissed, rubbing at his shirt. “Really got some power behind you. Who would’ve thought.”

Scowling, I prodded him again. “Ross, just tell me, would you? You’re driving me mad.”

He huffed but relented, looking me dead in the eye, “George has got everything to do with it, Y/n. I mean, he’s half fucking in love with you.”

I gaped for a short moment, eyes darting between Ross’s own when they never faltered, just waiting for him to tell me it was all a big joke. 

“What?”

“You really have no idea, do you?” Ross chuckled, shaking his head at me like I was some sad little puppy. “But that’s alright, I guess. Seeing as he has no clue that you like him too.”

My eyes widened at the sureness in his voice but before I could even defend myself, the rest of our little group were swanning their way back over, completely unaware of the way my heart was currently deafening my eardrums. Or how it only seemed to pound harder when George handed me a milk lolly I hadn’t asked for, knowing that they were my favourite.

Ross shot me another look, smirking all the while.

Oh, shit.

Part B>

[keelsforreals]

creek - prologue

nishinoya x f!reader

𓇢𓆸 prologue - creek masterlist

!!!- no smau elements, ittiest bit of angst

☏...

"hello?"

"oh hello sweetie, how have you been?"

"hi grandma! i've been good, what about you?" it was the summer of your 3rd year at of college. classes were over, weather getting was getting warmer, you could do whatever you want. the process of moving out of your dorm was harder than you thought, but some friends had offered to help later. sitting in a pile of clothes, you listened to your grandma.

"well i am doing just fine. i do have some good news though"

"oh? what is it?" you hadn't spoken to your grandma in a while, school always getting in the way. you secretly hoped it was an opportunity to see her.

"your grandpa and i were planning on going on a trip all summer long with some of our friends, hit some casinos, go to the beach, you know, all that stuff." you laughed and agreed, she had always been an adventurous woman.

"well anyways, we thought that if you wanted, you could stay at our house this summer. take care of ernie, watch my plants, invite any of your little boyfriends over." you rolled your eyes and sighed. any friend you ever brought up was automatically a boyfriend in her eyes.

"my friends are not my boyfriends, grandma. and i have yachi too! remember her?"

"oh you're right! i love that girl." sometimes you thought she liked yachi even more than you.

"so.. you're saying you're leaving the whole house to me and my friends? for the whole summer?" that house had been your whole childhood. going to creek barefoot, playing hide and seek in around the house, helping your grandma bake, it was all coming back to you. you remembered constantly asking your parents to go back, practically spending more time there than your real home. no, that house was your real home.

"yes darling, i trust you. besides, it'd give you a chance to see that little nishinoya again. i wonder how he's doing." your heartrate increased. nishinoya, a name you had been trying to forget. a face you hadn't seen in years.

"that.. was a long time ago." praying she would change the subject, you tried to not sound so serious but you knew your tone shined through regardless.

"oh but you two used to be attached to the hip! you remember that? always walking over to his house from the creek, you know i heard he was coming back from his little trip, did i tell you about tha-"

"grandma. please, i don't," you paused. you hadn't told her about what had happened between you two, you didn't know how. "i... don't feel so good right now, must've eaten something bad in the dining hall."

"see i told you that food isn't as good as my cooking. well, i guess i'll let you go now. you let me know soon about staying at the house, it'll be all cleaned for you and your friends."

"okay, i'll ask them about it. thank you grandma, i love you!"

"i love you darling, call me soon!"

you got up and laid down on your bed. your friends had been hearing stories about your grandma's house, wondering when they could see the infamous house themselves. but, they had also heard stories about him. his house was a good walk away from your grandma's anyway, it was unlikely you would cross paths.

...

was he really going to be there? no, you couldn't think about him now, you had things to do. you needed to move on.

synopsis: years and years of a "causal" relationship, broken by moving plans and wanting a fresh start. what the two don't know is that they've both been thinking of each other the whole time, through meaningless hookups and new friends. whenever they were alone, their minds always went back to the other.

[ozimagines]

The theater kid in me is about to come out in a way only an English professor could appreciate but

kirk whatshisname always plays minor roles in other shows, a few episodes on The Walking Dead and that one time on White Collar. Both times my man was a grade-A ASSHOLE. My boo thing was stone cold and also??? His voice is so deep like. damn.

He’s almost always an asshole and I love than bc Miguel is just the kindest soul ever. His eyes are so kind I’m 99% sure that makes sense. His accent is so soft and he’s so soft and he’s my lil guy okay leave my man alone

It’s such a drastic contrast and I think it’s proof his actor is just. mwah. Perfection.

also I started watching OZ when I was 14 and my parents told me I couldn’t bc there were penises so being the good child I was I finished s3 within the next week. Now whenever I talk abt it I always say “but I only watched one eps, ofc” and they know I’ve watched the whole thing it’s just so funny to pretend I didn’t.

I’m 16 btw. I regret nothing and everything(good lord there were pee pees everywhere what the fart)

LOL I’m gonna address every part of this but can I just say thank you for making me smile this early in the morning!

First of all, no one ever has to apologize for going full theatre kid on my page. I am, as Funky Frog Bait calls it, “theatre kid syndrome gone terminal”😂.

Second, Kirk Acevedo was the whole reason I watched Oz. I watched Band of Brothers first and fell in love with him as Joe Toye. I searched his IMDB page and this came up. Didn’t think much of it; just wanted to see him. Then I saw Harold Perrineau! And I was like Michael, from Lost! Then I saw Ernie Hudson! And J.K. Simmons! And Dean Winters! And B.D. Wong, Rita Moreno, Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, and so many others. Just a star studded cast. (To say nothing of Luke Perry, Luis Guzman, David Zayas and so on). Then I found people on Oz. Otto Sanchez, Lee Tergeson, Terry Kinney, Eamonn Walker, and others! (I know they were all known but still they were new to me!) Every character feels so real.

Im reminded of a story Kirk Acevedo told about his daughter. He said he was watching TV with her when she asked him why the heroes on TV never looked like them. He told himself he’d play hero characters when he could… even though he admits the villains are fun to play.😂 Love him. Even though Miguel Alvarez is far from your typical hero, he’s not your typical gang banger either. He’s complex. And you’re right, with very kind eyes. Wish he got a better ending. But hey, that’s why fanfiction writers are here!😂

My parents monitored everything I watched until I turned 18. I remember, four months after my eighteenth birthday, I had decided I wanted to watch Oz and I made a whole proposal to my parents about why I should watch the show. (Think Turning Red when she tries to get her parents to let her go to the 4 Town concert🤣). I finished my proposal and my mom was like… “you’re 18 , do what you want, lol”. So it was actually the first show I watched as an adult. That was about six years ago. I’ve been a fan ever since.

Just some fun set and off set pics of our favorite guys❤️❤️❤️