#I nearly screamed and woke my sisters up this morning when I saw

[skyward-floored]

Castletown wedding is closer to being canon than it ever has been before

[yandere-fics]

Ok so just from 5 minutes of pondering I've had to ideas plop into my head

1: Little sister who Bibi has provided for her entire life, you both grew up in really hard times and Bibi has always wanted to protect you, but you wanted to join the royal guard so she wouldn't have to steal anymore to keep you two fed, and she hated that idea because it was sooooo dangerous (there were so many hot women that would steal you away from her). The two of you have a fight and you join the guard, you go a while without seeing eachother before you're reunited. All the time away from you has made her much, much worse. She's gone borderline insane, she's always had a few screws loose but now she's downright terrifying. But she's kind of sweet. In a weird way. I kind of like the fiancè idea with this, maybe you were due to be wedded, when you meet Bibi again you tell her this and she silently loses her shit. Only for your fiancè to be convicted of treason and due for execution. But Bibi will be there to be a shoulder to cry on! It'll be okay, you nearly made a mistake and married the wrong person! You're so distraught you may as well drop out of the royal guard to grieve, she earns enough to support the both of you now anyway. You can even move into her quaters, just like old times!!

2: Manipulative younger sister who always gets what she wants. Ever since you were little Bibi would steal for you if you kicked and screamed enough, that habit slowly turned into subtle manipulation as you got older, knowing which buttons to push to make her obey your every whim. However one day the idiot goes and gets arrested. Maybe you don't even visit her in prison and assume she's been executed, until you wake up in the cells yourself to your delirious sister staring back at you. You left her ALL alone!! She was so worried about you!! But now she has a fancy new job, and the princess in her back pocket. So now she's gonna get what SHE wants. (I'm fishing for some gross noncon revenge fucking here. Bibi kinda snapping and realising you have been so mean to her for so long. But now everything is gonna be perfect, you'll see!)

-girlfailure

♡ Bibi With A Manipulative Sister Who Tried To Abandon Her ♡

(Already did number 1 a while ago so today I will do number 2)

You cursed the world for giving you such a terrible failure of a sister who clung to you every second of the day, she was basically useless to you which made going through life extremely difficult which is why from a very young age you learned to put your useless older sister to work, she couldn't hold a stable job to provide for you and she spent her days telling awful jokes, none of which you ever really found funny, but at least she could steal and at long as she could do that for you, you would humor her and laugh at her jokes on occasion, still the moment she got arrested you saw your opportunity and booked it along with all the money she had been saving under the floorboard at your room in the inn, selfish girl had been putting away money instead of just giving you everything she had, well that didn't matter now, she was gone and you had all the money you would need to hire a carriage and start a life outside the capital, and your useless sister would be dead by the morning finally. Your luck would finally turn around.

She really was useless for everything, it was only a matter of time before the bitch got caught stealing, oh well now you wouldn't have to act nice to her just so she'd steal a necklace for you, maybe in the next town you could find someone who would actually do what you wanted and not fail so you miserably. But that bitch just had to drag you down with her, maybe she was pissed you didn't even visit her before her execution and decided to accuse you of being her accomplice, stupid spiteful bitch. Either way you woke up in a cell with Bibi's stupid face hovering above you, pushing your hair out of your face and acting like she loved you just like she always did.

"Pookie, it really wasn't a funny joke to pretend you were going to ditch town, my joke is much funnier, don'tcha think?" You glared at her, what part of getting you arrested did she think was a joke and- how did she known you were going to ditch town, why would the guards have told her that? Or did she just suspect that because you didn't visit her jail cell? Honestly you still couldn't believe they didn't just execute her already, you were sure she was supposed to die this morning yet here she was petting your hair in a jail cell.

"Hehe it's really funny when you pretend to be mad pookie but I'd like that joke to be over now." She gripped your hair, tugging on it until it hurt as a way to tell you she was sick of the joke, she always did that when she wanted you to stop your 'jokes' as she called them, they weren't jokes though, you really did find her completely useless and hated every moment you spent with her.

"Anyways, I know you always said we had bad luck," You said you had bad luck but I guess she assumed you were including her, "But look! I got a job! The princess hired me to be her court jester!" You laughed, god the princess must be so stupid to ever hire this dud to be the jester, your sister can't do a damn thing right.

"The princess must be a dumb ass to hire you, you're such a failure, you can't do a single thing correctly and I'm so unlucky to be fucking stuck with you." Bibi yanked on your hair, now getting on top of you, one hand wrapping around your throat.

"Pookie, I already told you, your jokes aren't funny, leave the jokes to me you bitch." You froze a bit when she called you that, she'd never been anything but nice to you but you guessed you'd pushed her past her limits finally, still she was a weakling, it's not like she could actually do anything to you. "Here's a much better joke, you're going to fuck me."

"...w-what? Eww no that's not funny Bibi." You tried to push her off you but she stayed firmly in place already grinding her small bulge against your leg, her other hand moving away from your hair and starting to try to pry your pants off you.

"I think it would be really funny to pretend I'm forcing myself on you even though we both love each other so much, that's way funnier than you pretending to abandon me, now get to work."

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

@emen-98 @1lostsoul0fishbowl @vulpixsworld

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chrissy was running through the woods, the trees changing with quickly transitioning seasons: red, yellow, green, and the whiteness of snow. Suddenly, she was falling with the leaves, and she was in the Upside Down. The vines slid around her wrists and ankles, pining her to her knees. Eddie stood in front of her, his eyes red.

"You failed to save Barb," he said, his cold voice echoing in the darkness as Barb's body appeared before her.

"You failed to save Will." Will's body appeared next to Barb.

"You failed to save your mom. Your brother. Your friends. My friends. How can I love someone so heartless. . . So fat. . . Little Piggy?"

Eddie plunged his hand into Chrissy's chest and pulled it out of her chest, revealing her very own beating heart. Suddenly, it was switched, and Eddie was on his knees with Chrissy holding his heart in her hands.

"Either way, I'm dead. . . Either way, you killed me. . ."

Eddie lay dead at her feet with her friends and family while a demogorgon stood over them, blood dripping from its open face. Chrissy screamed.

"Little Piggy, Little Piggy. . .let me in. . ."

Chrissy woke up with a gasp. She was twisted up in her sheets and covered in sweat. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She looked at her clock on her bedside table. Ugh. 4:30 in the morning. Yeah, there was no way that she was going to get back to sleep. She scribbled in her journal as she sat by her window and wrote until the sun started to come up. Chrissy sighed as she watched the sunrise. It was a little warmer now and getting closer to spring, but it was also the end of the month, which meant that she was going to go to the lab for a check-up with Will. She hated going there. . .well, Dr. Owens was nice enough, but the place still gave her the creeps. She got up and walked over to her dresser, looking at her pig figurine.

"Well, Wilbur, now what?" Chrissy asked as she poked Wilbur's snout.

Her eyes landed on the framed photo of her and Eddie locking eyes with her while he was on stage. He looked so good in that picture, and Chrissy smiled. Now, would be a perfect time for a shower.

"I'm just saying you took a long time in the shower!" Dustin said as she pushed him into Steve’s car.

"Shut up!" Chrissy hissed. "It was early. No one else was supposed to be up."

"Tell that to my bladder!" Dustin exclaimed.

"What's happening?" Steve asked.

"Nothing! Nothing!" She said quickly, blushing.

"Chrissy was trying to take the hot water away from the other people living in the house," Dustin said.

"I was not!" Chrissy exclaimed. "I was just - I just got lost in thought."

"Who wants to guess what she was thinking about?" Steve asked with a grin, and Robin snickered.

"What?! Oh! But Mike said women don't do that," Dustin said.

"Don't listen to Mike," Robin and Nancy said in unison.

Chrissy put her hands on her face and groaned.

"Don't worry, Chrissy, you're not the only one," Nancy laughed. "Robin takes long showers too."

"Nance!" Robin exclaimed. "You're a terrible sister. I was going to be the one to educate our idiot brother, but I think I'm going to leave it up to you."

Chrissy moved away from them as quickly possible. She was terribly embarrassed. Maybe she could avoid them all today. Maybe Eddie and the others wouldn't be sitting with them at lunch today because they had Hellfire business. Chrissy smiled and breathed a sigh of relief as she walked into school. Maybe he wasn't even here today. She was quickly proven wrong, however, when she saw Eddie leaning against her locker.

"Did you get here early this morning?" Chrissy asked.

"For once, I did," Eddie grinned.

Robin and Nancy were walking by at that moment. They laughed and wiggled their eyebrows at her.

"You should ask her if she had a good shower this morning," Robin said teasingly as she walked away.

"Uh, did you have a good shower this morning?" Eddie asked nervously.

Chrissy sighed loudly and pressed her face against the cool metal of the locker. It actually helped cool her warm face down.

"I hate Robin," Chrissy muttered.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of falling in the shower. It happens to the best of us. I do it all the time," Eddie said. "Uncle Wayne keeps telling me that it's a terrible place to air guitar and to use the showerhead as a microphone."

Chrissy felt her face grow warmer as she tried to beat that image out of her head.

"Shut up!" She exclaimed. "I didn't fall in the shower."

"Oh, did you piss? Yeah, sometimes that happens," Eddie said.

"You don't have to keep guessing, Eddie," Chrissy laughed, her forehead still pressed to the locker.

"Oh, was it the other thing?" Eddie whispered.

"NO!"

"Oh. Oh! OH! Fuck, Stan told me women don't do that," Eddie said.

"Do I need to educate you on the female body?" Chrissy asked, her head snapping to look at him.

"Hm, a little forward there, Henderson," Eddie grinned, and she rolled her eyes. "But you should know that I've only slept with one woman, so you're going to have to be gentle with me."

"Fuck off," Chrissy said with a laugh and then paused. "So, only one woman?"

"Yeah, pretty sure she was daring herself to sleep with me," Eddie sighed. "But that's okay, I'm not heartbroken over it. I'm not looking to be anyone's boyfriend."

"Oh, you're not?" Chrissy asked, trying not to sound disappointed.

"Yeah, I'm not exactly boyfriend material, not for anyone," Eddie said, shrugging.

"Oh, well, that's too bad," Chrissy said, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach. "I'm sure you would make an excellent boyfriend."

"Yeah, right," Eddie said with a snort. "That's about as likely as the basketball team winning the championship this year."

"They're working really hard this year!" Chrissy exclaimed, trying not to laugh.

Chrissy let Eddie walk her to class as she tried not to think about what he told her. She didn't want to be one of those girls who thought she should change a boy. If Eddie doesn't want to be a boyfriend, then that's his right, and if he ever decided to change his mind, then it should be up to him. Still, it didn't stop her from being disappointed. She pouted all day, and when she got to lunch, she was glad to see that Hellfire wasn't going to be eating with them for once.

"Hellfire business?" Chrissy asked Robin.

"Hellfire business," Robin replied. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," Chrissy huffed as she dove into her food.

"Is it because of this evening? Will gets antsy when he has to go too," Jonathan said. "But you know that."

"I mean, yeah, I hate going, and I get that it's necessary or whatever, but it's not just that," Chrissy said with a sigh. "Eddie doesn't want to be my boyfriend."

"What? That's crazy!" Steve exclaimed. "I've seen the way he looks at you."

"I'm sorry, Chrissy," Nancy said softly.

"I mean, he actually doesn't want to be anyone's boyfriend which I guess includes being my boyfriend," Chrissy said.

"So, he didn't actually tell you that he didn't want to be your boyfriend?" Robin asked.

"No, not directly," Chrissy said. "He says he's not boyfriend material."

"Maybe he was hurt in the past, wounded, and he's not ready to be in a relationship with anyone yet," Robin said.

"Has he dated anyone?" Jonathan asked.

"Not really. He said he slept with one woman before, and he said it was like she was daring herself. That's when he said he wasn't exactly heartbroken over it because he wasn't looking to be anyone's boyfriend," Chrissy said.

"Maybe it hurt him a lot more than he thought it did," Nancy said. "And maybe in his own way without knowing, he was telling you that he wasn't ready for a relationship yet."

"Maybe," she said. "Okay, can we talk about something else? I'm not even sure I should have told you all of that."

Chrissy tried not to get her hopes up about what Nancy told her. If he wasn't ready yet, Chrissy was patient enough and understanding to wait for him. She wasn't going to wait forever, though. She didn't pay attention to any of her other classes because now she was thinking about how this evening was going to go. When the bell rang, signaling the end of school, she wandered out into the parking lot to find Hopper waiting to pick her up. Just as she was about to head toward his vehicle, Eddie stopped her.

"Hey, do you need a ride?" Eddie asked.

"Hop is picking me up for my therapy session," Chrissy said.

"Therapy session?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, to talk about what happened in the woods, you know," Chrissy said. "Sorry, I didn't tell you. I don't really like talking about it."

"I get it," he said softly. "Are you okay?"

Chrissy smiled but didn't say anything. She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Eddie froze for a moment before hugging her back. She stood in his arms for a moment, her head buzzing as she enjoyed the feeling of his arms around her. Chrissy pulled back and pressed a hard kiss to his cheek. She pulled away and watched his stunned reaction. He let out a quick burst of laughter and twirled around way too fast, which caused him to run right into a pole. She caught him before he hit the ground and stood him up right.

"Eddie!" Chrissy exclaimed, looking worried.

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" Eddie said quickly, rubbing his forehead. "Go on!"

Chrissy giggled as she walked over to the car. Hopper was struggling not to laugh.

"Your boyfriend is a goddamn idiot," Hopper finally laughed.

"Not my boyfriend," Chrissy said, grinning and pausing. "So, you're not worried?"

"He's more likely to hurt himself than he is you," Hopper said.

Hopper spent the rest of the car ride teasing Chrissy about Eddie until she blasted the radio and glared heavily at him. He turned it off with a laugh. She rolled her eye as he pulled into the parking lot of the lab. She knew what he was doing, trying to take her mind off of where she was going. She climbed out of the car and smiled at the sight of Joyce's car. She was prepared this time when Will threw himself into her stomach.

"Oh, thank God, my savior," Chrissy said, hugging him tightly.

"Uh oh, what'd Hop do now?" Joyce asked in amusement.

"It's not what I did," Hopper said laughing.

"It's not that funny, Hop," Chrissy rolled her eyes.

"She gave her boyfriend a kiss on the cheek. He got this goofy looking grin on his face, turned around, and ran right into the pole," Hopper said. "Smacked his head pretty good."

"Oh no!" Joyce laughed.

"That's hilarious," Will grinned.

"He's not my boyfriend," Chrissy rolled her eyes.

"Right," Will grinned as he took her hand. "Dustin said he runs a D&D Club at the high school. Do you think it's going to still be there when we get to high school?"

"For your sake, I hope so," Chrissy said.

"Do you think we could meet him? He sounds so cool," Will said.

"He'd be up for it," Chrissy grinned.

"Jonathan says he plays guitar," Will said. "He said he could be better though."

"What?! That's crazy. Eddie's really good already, I don't know how he could possibly need to get any better," Chrissy said furiously. "And I guess he was lying when he that he loved the way he played."

"He actually never said that, but Jonathan did say you really liked him," Will said slyly.

"You shithead," Chrissy laughed and ruffled his head.

With her arm held tightly around him, their laughter stopped as they entered the building. Chrissy and Will shivered. They both liked Dr. Owens well enough, but it was the building itself that unnerved them. It was what it represented: all the pain that was inflected because of one man and his need to play God. Barb was dead because of this place. . .because of Dr. Brenner. They reassured them that he was gone now, but she had this feeling on the back of her neck that made her think otherwise.

"Thanks for being my friend," Barb's voice whispered in her mind.

Benny was dead because of them, too, and despite the fact that the woman who put a bullet in his head was dead, it still didn't feel like enough. Chrissy felt a tug on her hand, and she looked down at Will. He looked encouragingly at her before pulling her inside with him. They dealt with the tests together and separately. They dealt with constant questioning, and they talked with them about what happened in the Upside Down, what they both went through. They even talked about their nightmares, and Chrissy talked about the voice in the darkness that kept calling to her. She rolled her eyes openly when the doctor told her it was perfectly normal after everything she went through. It certainly didn't feel like it. Chrissy knew they were doing the best with what they were working with, though, because she had a feeling like they were out of their element. Chrissy and Will walked out of there with both of their arms wrapped around each other. Then they just stood in the parking lot, hugging each other.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me today?" Chrissy asked.

"No, that's for you and Dustin," Will smiled. "But thank you."

Chrissy hugged Joyce goodbye before hopping into the other vehicle.

"Same thing?" Hopper asked her as he drove off.

"Yeah," Chrissy replied.

They picked up Dustin and went to the baseball field. Chrissy always told Hopper that it wasn't necessary to wait, but there was a part of her who appreciated it. Chrissy put on a helmet and stood at the plate with a bat. Dustin threw the first softball, and she hit it with the most satisfying sound that always came with hitting the first ball.

"You know, you have a really good throwing arm. You should really think about playing," Chrissy told her brother.

"Yeah, not a chance," Dustin said. "I told you before that the game isn't for me, I just like playing with you. I know how much you need this."

"Thanks, Dusty," Chrissy said.

She hit the softballs again and again, getting all of her frustrations out. She imagined them as Dr. Brenner's face on every single one of them. She hit the last one out of the park. Chrissy was quick to run around the bases, jumping onto the home plate with an excited yell. Dustin hollered as he ran over to her and hugged her. Chrissy hugged him tightly, kissing the top of his head. God, pretty soon, he was going to be the same height as her, maybe even taller than her. She didn't want this moment to end. All of a sudden, she heard a familiar wolf whistle. Chrissy broke away from the hug and looked to find Eddie sitting in the bleachers with Hopper.

"I called him," Dustin said with a shrug. "Are you mad?"

Chrissy grinned wickedly for a moment before wandering over to the fence. Eddie met her there, sliding his fingers through the holes.

"You make sports look good, Henderson," Eddie said.

"Come around here, and I'll show you just how good they are," Chrissy said.

"That would ruin my image of being a complete and utter nerd," Eddie said.

"Don't you know?" Chrissy gasped.

"What?" Eddie asked.

"You mean, you haven't heard?" She asked.

"Heard what?" He asked.

"Jocks are nerds. Every single one of them, it's just that they don't realize it," Chrissy said.

"They're closeted nerds," Eddie said in confusion.

"Well, they obsess over the games rather enthusiastically in ways I have seen Dustin do. Some of them memorize statistics like no one's buisness. They gather together in convention like places while wearing costumes. Don't get me started on the fantasy leagues," Chrissy said. "Also, equipments like the bat. . . It's almost like wielding a sword."

"Oh my God," Dustin said in realization, standing behind her.

"Shit, those poor closeted bastards," Eddie cursed. "Do you think they take it out people like me because they don't want to admit we're the same?"

"Hm, their hate is learned behavior, passed down from people who believe their interests are better when in reality they're equal," Chrissy said. "Different interests, equally important to the people that care about it."

"Alright, you convinced me, but only because you said it's like wielding a sword," Eddie said.

He walked onto the field and plopped the helmet off of her head before sitting it on his head.

"Georgous," she said, and he cackled before getting into position. "Don't hold the bat like that!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, there's a wrong way to hold a bat?" Eddie asked.

"Yes, especially if you're pretending it's a sword. You're touching the blade," Chrissy laughed. "Unless you decided that it's an ax, then yes, that's exactly how you hold it."

Chrissy grabbed his hand and slid it a little closer to the other hand. Eddie grinned.

"How am I standing?" He asked as he slid his legs further apart in a very ridiculous way. "Is this good?"

"Close your legs, you slut," Chrissy laughed.

"Hey, are we going to play ball, or are you going to continue to flirt with my sister?!" Dustin asked.

"Is this a trick question?!" Eddie yelled back.

"Eye on the ball, Edward!" Dustin shrieked.

"Throw it, you shrimp!" Eddie exclaimed.

He hit the plate with the back and wiggled his hips wildly, squating while jutting his butt out. Chrissy snorted with laughter and held up a hand to tell Dustin to wait. She pressed her other hand to her stomach as she almost bent over laughing. Once she got control of herself, she stood behind Eddie and kicked his legs a little closer together. She pushed his butt back in a little bit before placing her hands on his hips and stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

"You're standing on the battlefield. You're facing a fiercesome beast. On the other side of the beast are your friends. Do you run and hide or face the beast to save your friends? What do you say, Eddie the Banished?" Chrissy asked.

"Ugh, what are you doing to me, Chrissy Henderson?" Eddie said.

Chrissy giggled as Dustin tossed him the ball, and when he missed, Eddie yelled in frustration. Eddie managed to finally hit the ball on the third try, knocking it out of the park. Eddie whooped and started running the wrong way. He winked at Chrissy as he ran back and ran around the field. He skidded into home plate with a wide grin. He grabbed Chrissy from behind and twirled her around.

"Unhand my sister, you scoundrel!" Dustin shrieked.

"I shan't! Do you think you can defeat me?!" Eddie exclaimed as Chrissy giggled.

Dustin picked up the bat and held it out like a sword. Eddie gasped and set Chrissy down. He quickly grabbed the bat out of Dustin's hands and tossed it. Dustin shrieked and rammed into his stomach. Eddie laughed as they wrestled. Chrissy bit her lip as she watched him with her brother. She was going to do everything in her power not to hurt this man. It was days like this that having her friends, her family. . .having Eddie made things feel all better.

Chapter Eight

[kiddoryder]

Inner Demons

Hey guys! Sorry it’s been a while since I wrote a helluva boss fanfic. Been busy with life. But I’m back! 

This story will be about @loli-momo1908 OC Blitz facing his inner demons 

So, relax and enjoy the story! 

“Stop!”

“Monster!”

“Run away!”

Blitz was in his final demon form. He was stomping, roaring, and destroying the city left to right. Demons were running away, screaming in fear, or even getting killed. Blitz was in his blind rage not caring about hurting anybody.

“Blitzy stop!”

He turned around and saw his baby sister Sophie. Next to her was Angel Dust holding her hand.

Sophie - “Please stop this!”

Angel - “This isn’t you, Blitz! You’re not a monster!”

Sophie - *tearfully* “Please! I want my brother back!”

Angel - “Come back to us Blitz! *cries* I love you!!”

Blitz just let out a huge roar. Just before he can raise his giant wing up-

Blitz woke up panting and sweating. He looked around and saw that he was in his room and in his bed. He looked at his hands and was relieved that he wasn’t in his final demon form. He looked at his clock and it was 3:00am. Blitz got up from his bed and quietly walked to Sophie’s room. 

Good thing it was only across from him. He quietly opened the door, and saw Sophie in her bed peacefully asleep hugging her favorite stuffed dog Fluffy. Blitz smiles and closes the door. Then he quietly went to Angel’s room and opened the door. Angel was also asleep with Fat Nuggets next to him on the bed sleeping as well. Blitz smiles and closes the door.  

“Can’t sleep? I couldn’t imagine you as a peeping Tom.”

Blitz turned around and saw Alastor. Unlike the people in the hotel, Alastor was wide awake and doing his usual smile. 

Blitz - *annoyed* “What do you want? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Alastor - “Oh I don’t need sleep. I can do fine without it. I was just planning to go out and get some fresh chops.”

Blitz - “In the middle of the night?”

Alastor - “Why yes, my good man. I do enjoy eating a light snack. I would use Angel’s pet for a snack, but Charlie and Angel tell him not to harm that little swine. So, Bradley, why are you up?”

Blitz - *annoyed* “First of all, it’s Blitz. Second, it’s none of your business.”

Alastor - “Hmm. I can see your dreams are keeping you awake.”

Blitz - *surprised* “How did you know?”

Alastor - “I can tell the way you breathe. Clearly your dreams are causing you some kind of distress.”

Blitz - “Why do you care?”

Alastor - “Cause my dear boy, I am quite fond of you and your sister. After all, I am a friend of your parents.”

Blitz - “Look, just because your friends with my parents doesn’t mean you got my trust. I candle it myself. Goodnight.”

Alastor - “Alright my boy.”

Blitz went back to his room and tried to go back to sleep. Trying to ignore how Alastor knew about his nightmares.

()()()()()()()()()

The next morning Blitz groggily woke up. He once again didn’t sleep well. He groggily went downstairs to make himself breakfast. As he was cooking him and Sophie’s pancakes, he slowly closed his eyes feeling so tired. Then all of a sudden, he heard somebody said:

“Blitz! Blitz, wake up!”

“You’re on fucking fire!”

That’s when Blitz opened his eyes and they were widen in horror: the pancakes were burning up, the fire and smoke was getting bigger and the flames almost moved to his arm. 

Blitz - *horrified* “Oh shit!!”

Blitz quickly put the pan in the sink and used his magic to summon a fire extinguisher. He used it to put out the fire and cool down the pan. After that, the fire was out and the pancakes were now black and hard. 

Angel - “So man covers for breakfast?”

()()()()()()()()()

After the fire, Niffty made pancakes for everyone. She was busy washing the dishes. Blitz was quietly and slowly eating his breakfast. He was feeling guilty for nearly causing a fire to the hotel. Charlie had a concerned look on her face. 

Charlie - *concerned* “You okay Blitz?”

Blitz - *sighs* “No…I almost put you guys and the hotel in danger.”

Vaggie - “It was an accident, Blitz.”

Angel - “Yeah. I mean it’s not the first time the hotel nearly got messed up. It always gets messed up. *Vaggie glares at him* Well it’s true.”

Blitz - “But still: It was reckless of me to cook despite being tired.”

Sophie - “Did you had a bad dream Blitzy?”

Blitz - “Yeah. It was kind of scary…”

Vaggie - “How long has this been going on?”

Blitz - “Honestly? A couple of days.”

Charlie - “Oh man no wonder you are tired. Those nightmares are messing with your head.”

Angel - “Geez Blitz! Ya gotta do something. Next ya think you know, you would go outside thinking you have clothes on, but you would be naked. Although that does sound kind of sexy.”

Blitz’s face grew red as a tomato and slap Angel on the back of the head. 

Blitz - “Don’t even think about that you horny dumbass!”

Husk - “In that kinky bastard weird way, he’s actually right. If ya don’t get enough sleep, you will do some worst shit. You wouldn’t be able to tell what’s real or not.”

Charlie - “Yeah. You need some way to confront your dreams.”

Blitz - “But how?”

Niffty - “Ooh you can go to Alastor! He’s good with mind stuff! I mean he always know that men are always on my mind.”

Vaggie - “No! I don’t trust that radio talking shit lord. Knowing him, he would mess with Blitz’s head.”

Sophie - *scared* “I don’t want Alastor to mess with Blitz’s head!”

Blitz - *comforting* “Don’t worry Sophie, he’s not going to mess with my head. I don’t trust him to do that kind of stuff.”

Charlie - “I wish I can help but I don’t know how to do those kinds of things.”

Angel - “What about Sonya and her Ma?

Charlie - “They went to the Sloth ring for vacation.”

Sophie - *gasps and cutely jump* “Ooh! Ooh! I know who Big Brother should see!”

Vaggie - *confused* “Really who?”

Sophie - “The Star Owl!”

Husk - *confused* “The Star Owl?”

Angel - “You’re gonna have to fill us in on that one sweetie.”

Sophie - “He’s the prince of the Glowetia and he’s an owl. He got magic powers of seeing the sky. We saw him in the harvest moon festival.”

Charlie - *eyes widen* “Oh! Sophie, do you mean Stolas?”

Sophie - *nodding* “He is Blitzy’s teacher. And he got magic! Maybe he can help Blitz with his bad dreams.”

Blitz - “That’s…Actually a good idea Sophie. *Pets her head and she giggled* I do trust him WAY more than I trust Alastor.”

Angel - “What ya think he can do?”

Blitz - “I honestly don’t know. But I do know that with his magic, it can be strong enough to help.” 

Charlie - “You do whatever you think is right and we will support it.”

Blitz - *smiles* “Thanks Charlie.”

()()()()()()()()

After breakfast, Blitz got ready to go to Stolas's mansion. He was about to leave the hotel until he heard: 

“Wait Blitz!”

Blitz turned around and saw Sophie and Angel. 

Angel - “Sophie wanna give you something before you go.”

Sophie took it out of her pocket and gave it to Blitz. It was a cute drawing of him and Sophie together inside of a heart. It also said: “I love you, Blitz!” 

Sophie - “I made it for you. I thought it can also help you feel better.”

Blitz - *smiles warmly* “Aww thank you Sophie.”

Then Angel gave Blitz a kiss on the cheek. This made Blitz wildly blush as Sophie giggled. 

Angel - “Good luck Blitz. I know you can do it.”

Blitz - *smiles* “Thank you Angel.”

Blitz gave a kiss back at Angel. He left the hotel, put the drawing in his pocket, and began to fly to Stolas’s mansion. 

()()()()()()()()()

After flying for almost 30 minutes, Blitz landed in front of Stolas’s door. He rang the doorbell and then the door opened. It was one of Stolas’s butler Pringles. 

Blitz - “Uh hi. Is Stolas here?”

Pringles - “Oh yes. He’s in his greenhouse. I'll fetch him for you. You can wait in the kitchen.”

Blitz - “Thank you.”

Blitz went to the kitchen and sat down in one of the chairs. He looked around and noticed Stella wasn’t there. Which was surprising because Stella would be on the phone gossiping to her friends or her brother. Or she would be yelling at Stolas over something stupid or keep bringing up that he slept with an imp. Then Blitz saw footsteps and saw Stolas in regular gardening clothes. 

Stolas - “Oh! Bradley how nice to see you.”

Blitz - “It ‘s nice to see you.”

Normally, Blitz dislikes it when people call him by his real name. Even overlords like Alastor. He would only allow his parents or somebody high class like Charlie’s father to call him Bradley. But with Stolas, Blitz made an exception since Stolas is also a friend of his mother and helps her with her powers and isn’t a royal snob. Plus, it also to avoid confusion with the imp Blitzo. 

Stolas - “What brings you here? You know we don’t have lessons until next week.”

Blitz - “Well yes but I need your help with something. Is it okay? I mean I don’t want you to get in the way if you’re busy or have to do something with your wife.”

Stolas - “Oh don’t worry about her my dear boy, Stella and I officially divorce. I don’t have to worry about her cruelty anymore.” 

Blitz - *eyes widen* “Wow! Really?”

Stolas - “It was for the better for Via and I. We don’t need that toxic woman in our life.”

Blitz - “Well that’s good that you guys are divorce and don’t have to deal with her.”

Stolas - “Thank you. Now let me just change and we can discuss the problem in the library.”

()()()()()()()()()

After changing his clothes, Stolas took Blitz to his library. After Blitz told Stolas about his nightmares, Stolas said:

Stolas - “It’s sound like you’re having fears of your final demon form.”

Blitz - “Well…It was kind of terrifying. I felt like I couldn’t control myself.”

Stolas - “I know. Since you crashed half the city.”

Blitz - “How did you know?”

Stolas - “I was one of the witnesses who saw it.”

Blitz - *embarrassed* “Oh great…”

Stolas - “My dear boy there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It actually shows your final demon is powerful enough. Almost to the point of overlord level. You just need to learn how to control it.”

Blitz - “I don’t know how.”

Stolas - “To control your final demon form, you need to confront your past. I got something that can help.”

()()()()()()()()()

Stolas took Blitzo to a different room. This time, this room was like a chamber but yet a comfortable bedroom. 

Stolas - “I was sent here before when I had trouble with my powers.” 

Blitz - *unease* “So…Locking me up here is gonna help?

Stolas - *chuckles* “I’m not gonna lock you up here my boy. What the room does is help you face your past.”

Blitz - “Really?”

Stolas - “Yep. I made some special herbal tea that can help you sleep and face your past.”

Stolas handed Blitz the cup of tea. It smelled sweet and Blitz started to drink the tea. It tasted really good and sweet at the same time. After finishing drinking it, Blitz started to feel tired. 

Stolas - “The tea should put you to sleep any minute. You ready to face your past?”

Blitz - *tired* “I-I’m ready.”

The tea started to overwhelm Blitz and before he knew it, he fell asleep on the bed.

()()()()()()()()()

Blitz opened his eyes and the first thing he saw he was alone. The area he was at was just pitch black. 

Blitz - “Hello? Anybody here?”

There was nothing but silence. But then he heard a giggle. He turned around and saw himself as a little kid. He was holding two hands which belong to his parents: Arthur and Josephine McKnight who was walking by his side. Blitz eyes tear up a little, and was about to touch them but his hand just went through like water. 

Blitz - dismayed “Oh right…They are just my memories…”

Then he heard mean laughter. He saw his younger past self getting bullied, two imp like demons were pulling his wings. Young Blitz was getting angry and was struggling to get free. 

Imp bully - Look at these stupid wings!”

Imp bully 2 - “I bet he got these from his parents.”

Imp bully - “I guess that makes them stupid too!”

The imp bullies laugh but young Blitz’s eyes turn red and he growls. He broke free, and began to beat up the bully. Young Blitz was beating him up so bad that the teacher came to pull him off and kids ran away in fear. Blitz’s eyes widened and looked uncomfortable. 

Blitz - “Man even as a kid I had anger issues…”

But then his eyes widen when then saw his teenage self playing with a little Sophie. Blitz, Sophie and their parents looked so happy. But then Ryan O’Grady came with an evil smile on his face and broke into their house.

Blitz - “No!”

But the memories played of Ryan O’Grady attacking and destroying his home. Killing his parents, hurting him, and Blitz running off with Sophie in his arms. Then the memories change to his current age of the memory of him turning into his final demon form, and destroying cities. 

Blitz - *fearful* “No stop!”

Then the memories stop, much to Blitz’s relief. But then all of a sudden, he heard a loud roar. He turned around and eyes widened in horror; it was his final demon form. His final demon form tried to attack Blitz by stomping on him, Blitz quickly dodges it. Blitz tried to use his witchcraft, but it wasn’t strong enough to defeat his final demon form. 

Blitz - *scared* “W-Why isn’t it working?!”

The final demon form smacked him in the air and Blitz crashed down. Blitz tried to use his powers again, but they were getting weaker to the point they just bounced off his final demon like if he was throwing toys at them. His final demon form breathes fire, and Blitz dodge the fire. But then even his flying started to feel weak as well. 

Not knowing what else to do, Blitz decided to just run with his final demon form chasing him. Blitz didn’t know where to run but he kept running far away. He feels stop and clutch his hands into his head and cover himself with his wings.

Blitz - *scared* “Why…Why can’t I do this?!”

“It’s because you are afraid.”

Blitz looked up and turned around.

Blitz - “Stolas? Is that you? My powers aren’t working!”

“Bradley, your powers aren’t working because of your fears.”

Blitz - *terrified* “Please wake me up! I can’t do this!” 

“Yes, you can! These are your memories, your final demon form is base on your pain and regrets. But they don’t control you, YOU control them.”

Blitz - “B-But- “

Blitz turned around and saw his final demon form. It roared and swatted Blitz away. Blitz landed on his back until a piece of paper was on his face. He removed the paper and saw it was Sophie’s drawing of him and her together. Blitz’s eyes widen and realize something: the picture also represent the good memories he has: playing and caring for Sophie, living at the hotel, making new friends, being with Angel, protecting them, etc. 

No longer feeling afraid, Blitz had a determined look on his face. He turned and just when his final demon form was about to crush him under its foot, a blue shield was around Blitz and the final demon form lost its balance and fell on the ground. When it got up, Blitz raises his left hand, and the demon form left hand was raised up as well. Blitz began to control his final demon like if it was a puppet. 

Blitz - “You controlled me slowly for years! You made me hurt people, nearly hurt the ones I care about, made me blind with rage. But I’m not going to let you do that anymore! For now, on, I CONTROL YOU!” 

Blitz also summons a very powerful blue witchcraft beam and aims at his final demon form. It screamed in pain and then there was smoke. Blitz took a deep breath and sighs in relief as the smoke disappears. Then Blitz saw that his final demon was now a weak tired baby bat who was panting in pain. Feeling sympathetic, Blitz walked up to it and gently picked it up with his hands. 

Blitz - “You didn’t mean to do those things did you? You just had a lot of anger and regrets and didn’t know how to let out those feelings. *The final demon form squeaks* But I’ll admit you’re a part of me. You also made me a survivor and helped me get strong. So, I actually do need you.”

The final demon form smiles and gave Blitz a hug. Blitz smiled and his final demon a hug back. Then there was a glowing light. 

()()()()()()()()()

Blitz opened his eyes and saw that the chambers was slightly messy. Some things were destroyed. He turned to Stolas who had a few cuts and bruises. But he looked concerned over Blitz. 

Stolas - “Are you alright Bradley?”

Blitz - *nodding* “Y-Yeah. *Looks around and cringe* I made the mess, didn't I?”

Stolas - “I’m afraid so. Your powers were coming out during your slumber request. It took a little while to control you before you went haywire.”

Blitz - *sad* “Oh man…I’m really sorry.”

Stolas - “But it was okay. You didn’t do serious damage to me or the place. The important part is you managed to control your final demon. Take a look in the mirror.”

Blitz - *confused* “What do you mean?”

Stolas summons a mirror and Blitz eyes widen in shock. He was in his final demon form but this time, he was still the same height, actually able to focus, not feeling anger or blind with rage. He touched the mirror and also realized it’s not a trick or a dream. 

Blitz - shocked “I-It that really me?”

Stolas - *nodding* “Yes, my dear boy. You managed to perfect and accept your final demon form. But you still need some training on the powers. I would be glad to train you on them.”

Blitz smiled and did the one thing he rarely does: he gave Stolas a hug. Stolas was a bit surprised but he hugged Blitz back. 

Blitz - “Thank you Stolas. For everything.”

Stolas - “You’re welcome my dear boy.”

Blitz also took a deep breath, focus, and turned back to his regular self. He gave Stolas a smile and began to fly back home. 

()()()()()()()()

Angel - “So that's how you managed to control your final demon form?”

Blitz - *nodding* “Shocking, isn’t it?”

After flying back to Stolas, it was late at night and Sophie was already asleep. But Angel was awake and decided to tell him about his adventure. 

Angel - “I’ll admit: it took me a while to control my final demon form, but I’m glad you managed to control yours.” 

Blitz - “I know…Angel, do you think of me as a monster?”

Angel - *shocked* “No way! What made you think that?”

Blitz - “It’s just…*sighs* when I turned into my final demon the first time, I was like a total monster. I wasn’t myself at all and I almost hurt you and the others.”

Angel - “But Blitz, you didn’t mean it. It not like you decided to turn into your final demon form and destroy everything.”

Blitz - “Yeah that’s true.”

Angel - “Besides, I know who you really are: a kind caring and even sexy demon bat.”

Blitz - “You really think so?

Angel - “Hey babe, I've been in Hell for a REALLY long time. I seen worst monsters. I mean have ya met Val?”

Blitz - *chuckles* “That’s so true. *smiles* thanks Angel.”

Angel - “No problem. *flirty* You know there’s always room for one more in bed.”

Blitz threw a pillow at Angel’s face. 

Blitz - *annoyed* “Don’t push your luck you dumbass!”

Angel - “Alright. See ya tomorrow, Blitz. Sweet dreams.”

Angel left to his room to sleep. After switching to his pajamas, Blitz went to his bed and cover himself with the blanket. For the first time in a few days, Blitz finally got some sleep. Also, for the first time in forever, Blitz finally felt peace with himself. 

Hope you like it!

[forestcat222]

chapter 1 + base info

I decided to post my fanfiction on tumblr so it'll be exposed to more people.

before the chapter starts here's the base info:

this au is where none of the Targaryen's die, Rhaella, Aerys, Rhaegar, Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys survive. This is different from my other book “what if the Targaryen's won” because this book and it’s chapters will only be from Targaryens point of view, The first part of the story will be in Kings Landing with the occasional visit to Dragonstone and Dorne. The characters with povs will be Aerys, Rhaegar, Elia, Rhaella, Aegon, Rhaenys, Viserys, Daenerys and Jon/Aemon. 

this book will start around the same time as the cannon first book

Daenerys is 13

Viserys is 22

Jon/Aemon is 14

Aegon is 16

Rhaenys is 18.

in this au when Aerys won the rebellion and killed the rebels, House Baratheon, House Stark, House Tully and House Arryn were whipped out. Because of this there are new people in charge.

The new Warden of the North is Roose Bolton of house Bolton

The new warden of the east is the lord of House Egen

The new lord Paramount of the trident is Walter Frey of house Frey

The new lord of the Stormlands is Jon Connington of house Connington

i apologize for killing house Stark but i had to.

now its time for the actual chapter to start:

Chapter 1 Elia

Elia slowly opened her eyes and sighed, just like usual she woke up to screaming coming from the king, her dear Father in law. Though Elia could not hear what he was screaming about she knew it was something cruel most likely directed at poor Queen Rhaella. Elia got out of bed and got ready for the day ahead. 

After Elia bathed and dressed she went to the dining room to have breakfast, When she walked into the room she saw her sweet Rhaenys reading a book with Balerion on her lap. Rhaenys looked up at Elia and smiled. “Good morning mother, How are you on this day?” Elia took a seat across from Rhaenys before replying. “I am well but tired, I was unfortunately kept up nearly the entire night by the king and Rhaellas…..’conversation’.”  Rhaenys nodded sympathetically. “Yes, their ‘conversations’ can be quite disturbing at times.” 

The doors of the room opened and Aegon walked in, as always Aegon was followed by Aemon. Aegon and Aemon seemed to always be near each other, When Aegon trained Aemon also trained, when Aegon ate, Aemon ate, when Aegon studied, Aemon studied as well, it seemed no matter where Aegon went Aemon followed after him. “Good morning, mother, sister.” Aegon spoke with a smile. “Good morning Egg, Mon.” Rhaenys patted the two seats next to her. Aegon and Aemon sat down. 

After a few minutes Viserys and Daenerys walked into the room and took their seats. “Good morning, how is everyone today?” Daenerys questioned. “I am well, Aemon and I were in the library all morning.” Aegon smiled, Aemon nodded silently. “I am also well, I have been reading fire and blood all morning.” Rhaenys held up the book to show Daenerys. “Rha, haven't you read it before?” Aegon questioned. “Yes five times by now.” Rhaenys answered. “Then why are you reading it again?” Viserys raised an eyebrow. “because it’s important, if we don’t know history we may be doomed to repeat it.” Viserys rolled his eyes. “Viserys, she is right, history is very important, we all should learn as much as we can about it.” Elia spoke. Viserys sighed before nodding. “Yes, you are right, Apologies, I meant no disrespect.” It was clear Viserys was not genuine about his statement but Everyone let it go and continued talking. For the next forty minutes everyone just talked while they waited for their remaining family members to either enter or send someone to say they wouldn’t be coming for breakfast. 

There was a rule that no one could start meals without everyone in the family being there or else the king would get upset since he viewed eating without him as a sign of disrespect and since disrespect made him very, very mad so everyone just tried to do as he said to avoid any trouble. After a while Rhaegar entered the room with Jon Connington behind him, Aegon smiled at Jon Connington and Connington smiled back. Rhaegar sat at the end of the table away from the rest of his family. Things got a bit quieter than before as usual when Rhaegar entered the room but everyone continued to talk. After about 30 more minutes King Aerys and Rhaella entered. 

heres the book on ao3

[leiasp0rg]

HELAEMOND ONE-SHOT (1/2)

Hey guys!! I just wrote my first fic and well I’m so excited that you actually gonna read it. English is my foreign language so if there’s any mistake of my usage, I’m sorry in advance ^^

Although it’s a one-shot fic, I divided it in two chapters and only chapter 2 will include SMUT.

Contains mature themes and violence. So read it at your own risk (chapter 2)

Helaena sat silently on ground of her merciless, tyrannic husband, Aegon’s prison. Just like any other usual day of hers, she was humming some melodies she didn’t know where she heard from and brushing her long platinum blonde hair in front of the window. She, somehow, wanted to be in their own chamber where they only change clothes, fuck and sleep. Well, maybe not sleep since she can’t sleep next to her worst nightmare. And damn her that she decided to be in their shared chamber while doing all these.

She was focused on one of her dreams she’d seen recently when a frenzied aegon came in their chamber thunderously. She couldn’t remember the moment when he strided through the room to reach her and wrap her silky hair in his hand and crash her head to the nearest wall. Also she couldn’t remember when he threw her stunned, petite body to the ground and beated her until she lost her consciousness.

Now, here, in this place which reeks of blood and other sickening things she didn’t even want to know what they are, she was sitting wounded by all the whips the guards used on her. Her skin is burning like they set fire on it. Helaena didn’t know what came to him all suddenly and he decided to punish her. But for what? She wasn’t doing anything special that day that would cause him to be mad. Huh, it was ironic that he was the one who thinks she is delusional. Well, in that case, someone had to remind him of the truth. Nevertheless, the last time helaena saw that brainsick sod, they were at their chamber. He even let his guardsmen do the punishment, not giving a shit about informing why he wanted to do this.

Her body was exhausted and aching everywhere posssible. When she woke up and found herself lying at the stinky ground of one of the prisons, they didn’t even spend another seconds of her torturing. They went down on her and kicked her as if she was one of their enemy. Her lungs felt like they were gonna explode from her bruised chest. Now, she didn’t remember how many days passed after she found herself in this hellhole. She stopped counting when the pain was unbearable and all she wanted to do was resting. But one morning, when they woke her up by groping her breasts, pinching them painfully, she started to scream so loudly that they had to cover her mouth firmly. No matter how violently helaena thrashed against them to free herself of their abusing, they got the upper hand eventually. She was not a fucking whore they shared to satisfy themselves. Even if she couldn’t stop them, she would not stay still while they do what they were gonna do. She would fight to the end even if it meant her death. Some of them held her down tightly on her ankles and wrists while the others kept touching nearly every part of her body. She never stopped her struggling against their hold.

“Stop fucking moving, you lunatic bitch.” One of the guards who’s holding her barked.

“Nothing you do can work. Also, can you believe that the king actually let us have our way with you. I knew that he is as wacky as her sister, but fuck.”

The blond guard who was driving his hand down her belly looked at the others and snickered. What did she do to deserve all this? That was the only thing she wanted to know before she would lose her only pride, her innocence. When that guard finally reached her underwear and started to pull it down slowly, a very unpredictable thing happened for helaena. Her sobbing came to a sudden halt when all the blood splashed to her face and upper body in a flash.

      She felt his presence. She didn’t even have to open her tightly closed eyes to acknowledge him. But still, she fluttered her eyes open to actually see him. Oozing with power and enigma no one possibly can solve, his solid body was standing right in front of her, His massive chest is heaving from the force he’d just used on the knight when cutting his head off. His incomparable rage could be felt all around inside the cell. If someone would dare just a one step toward him, gods save them from his wrath. Helaena was staring at her brother who miraculously came to her rescue. She didn’t care to give a look at decapitated body of blond guard who tried to rape her minutes ago. Aemond, now standing so still that every living thing in that cell held their breath, swayed his gaze to the guards who were failing to hide their obvious shaking. He slowly started to take a step toward one of the guards who stepped back unintentionally. He forced the guard to step back until his back hit the wall. He was trembling so visibly now, even unable to stop clattering his teeth. Aemond stood so closly to the man, He almost occupied his private space. Then he looked down on his blade that still covered with blood and started to talk in a menacingly calm manner. 

        “If you don’t want your head impaled on stake, I suggest you leave in three seconds.”

        All remained guards didn’t hesitate for a second and left the cell with hurried steps. Aemond wiped the blood on his blade to his black leather tunic and turned his body to his sister who’s still looking at him bewildered and with a blush on her soft voice. He sighed relievedly and approached to her injured sister. Her posture was more untroubled now but her eyes showed how she was hurt and tired. He crouched next to her leaned body and checked over for any serious injury. After finding none, he looked her in the eyes.

        “He crossed the line, Helaena. And he will pay for this. I promise you, sister.”

      A panic rising inside of her is now visible. She tried to move toward him and held his hands tightly.

       “Don’t Aemond,” Her eyes now are glistening with the tears formed beacuse of her panic. “Please don’t kill him. His downfall only will trigger yours. I can’t endure it. No.”

        Her body started to tremble. She was shaking her head hysterically. “I can’t endure your death, Aemond. Please don’t do this.”

Aemond clenched his jaw. He hate to see her like this. He hate to see her hurt and sorrowful. He would nearly go and take revenge on that motherfucker for what he made her go through but he couldn’t make her more sad than she was now. So He took her in his arms and carried her away from his brother’s dungeons. She smiled faintly to his brother while he was taking her to his own chamber. When they finally arrived, he laid her to his bed and took a look at her filthy body.

“You need a bath. I will prepare it for you. Just don’t move too much.”

Helaena didn’t say any word. Oh how she needed it to relax her aching muscles and get rid of that disgusting smell on her. Two minutes passed when Aemond came back to her. He picked her up and carried to near side of his bathing tub. He just stood still there before speaking.

“Um… can you undress and clean yourself up in your own or do you need me to help you?”

Helaena bit her lower lip indecisively and Aemond’s gaze slipped down on them for a second before he just stared the wall in front of them. Helaena looked up tentatively and spoke.

“I will call for you if I need it.”

Aemond only nodded before setting her down on the ground slowly. He made towards the door but stopped right before leaving when he heard a word.

“Thank you, Aemond.”

Aemond swallowed the lump formed in his throat. His heartbeat increased for a reason he didn’t understand. He turned his head over his shoulder.

“I will be in the room waiting for you.” Then He left the bathroom of his chamber. Helaena took off her dirty clothes, while doing that she paid attention not to do any sudden moves that would cause her pain. When she was all naked, she sank into water in the tub. Slowly calming her nerves, she lied her head on the straight edge of the tub and moaned. All parts of her body that was hurting are now nearly felt like healed with lukewarm water. Minutes later, she was already fast asleep, not caring anything or anyone for a little while this time.

[lavenderlitanies]

i passed out today. i didn’t eat anything aside from a bowl of cereal in the morning and then took a hot bath. i genuinely feel so stupid for neglecting eating and i know i was avoiding it. the rot that this body image issue is doing to my brain is actually hurting me. i scared my mom and dad to pieces and i cried over how terrified they were. as i was fading in and out of consciousness i could hear my moms frail shrieks on the phone with 911 and her frantically running around. my dad saved me with how he kept pouring freezing water on my head and keeping me upright. he never let me go and was there for me every step. i just feel so stupid. when i passed out the first time i felt like i was dreaming. i genuinely heard my friends laugh and i felt good. it was fuzzy and warm. i woke up to my parents screaming in my face and begging me to stay awake. i felt stupid for wanting to go back to sleep. i was so confused. my cheek and lip burned as i tried to make sense of everything. my mom told me later that my teeth had clamped down and my tongue clogged up my throat so i wasn’t breathing. she had to pry open my mouth with a fork and had cut the side of my lips in order to give me cpr. i woke up apologizing. she said i was snoring like someone who was overdosing on drugs. i’ve never done drugs. she said my teeth clamped down on her finger and she couldn’t pull it out. she said i turned white as a sheet. she had never seen me like this. i cried hard watching her retell it. she was so scared. i kept passing in and out of consciousness. the blackness kept fading in and out of my vision. i couldn’t do anything except cling to my tato. he kept pouring water down my face and legs to keep me awake. i held on to him with everything i had and i just felt so stupid. i feel stupid for not eating, for wanting to be thin, for not doing anything at all today. my dad didn’t say anything but he ran to get me water, to make me soup, and he sat with me on the opposite couch while im here trying to recover. he never says much during these kind of situations but he always knows what to do. he’s always there. he helped my mom put on clothes for me as i was just in a towel. she put my hair up. he rubbed my back and encouraged me to eat. when the ambulance arrived and the EMTs came in to our living room, i was only just feeling better. they said i was incredibly pale and went in to action. there were three of them. one was checking my vitals, placing something on my finger and arm which i was barely aware of. another crouched next to me and was so gentle. she asked me my name and birthday and made me laugh as the color in my face started coming back. i was embarrassed at my state of dress and my dripping hair. she had a radiant smile and beautiful blush application. another EMT stood with a tablet and asked me questions. my parents sat there, coming down from the scare and talked with them. they asked me to stand. made sure everything checked out before they left. i didn’t stop trembling. my mom came back and changed me out of my wet clothes in to a pair of her own soft pajamas. my dad gave me more tea. i felt so stupid, i cried.

my sisters came home and were so scared for me as they saw the ambulance leave. one of them hugged me too tight and i shook in her arms as my eyes filled with tears. the other one lightly scolded me for not eating and rushed off to buy me a high-calorie, nutrient-dense, and expensive smoothie bowl. i ate all of 300 calories all day and i feel like an idiot. my sister called my body dramatic as she sat close to me with glossy eyes. i laughed and felt normal, sitting with her.

i’m alone now, sitting with water and tea and crackers surrounding me. my hair is drying and i run my hand down my arm to feel my mothers pajamas against my skin. my dad laid on the couch next to me for nearly an hour and then walked to his room to nap- just a couple feet away. i hear my mom in the kitchen with my younger sister, cleaning the fridge and doing the dishes. my other sister hasn’t returned yet with the smoothie bowl. tears are still running down my face as i recount everything. the stress and fear i caused everyone makes me want to crawl up in a little ball and cry forever. i hate seeing my parents in such a state of worry and panic. especially my mother with her injured hands and weak heart. as she had sat with me while i slowly nibbled on crackers, she cried while she told me how lovely it was when we were all kids and this worry she has now as we all are getting older is weighing on her. i wish i could give her peace. i wish i could take all her stress away. i just feel so stupid.

[epaily]

i got her in april 2012. i was in third grade. she was a year old. she was only meant to stay a week and then she never left. oh i hated her at first. i hated her so much. i didnt want a cat, i'd always wanted a dog and instead i got this awful hissy thing that wouldnt go near any of us. i think i may of kicked her a couple times, i really dont remember. if i did, i was a child and i was hurting and i didnt understand and if i did i've already regretted it for years. i locked myself in my parents room and screamed that i wasnt coming out until they got rid of her.

that obviously didnt happen

we just existed in tandem for years and years

she didnt come to me on her own for so long. so long. i always had to chase and scoop her up myself. i wanted a teddy bear and she refused to cooperate. i wrapped her in a blanket but it never lasted long.

i barely even remember anything before 2018. i remember old cat trees, and her falling. i remember my sister got her a catnip stick and i had never seen her with so much energy. i remember she got outside a couple of times. i remember she loved toys on the end of a peice of string

we always cuddled, but i always initiated, and she rarely stayed more then a few minutes

i dont remember when it happened. some time during the deep throes of covid. i was sat pretending to do online classes and she came up and sat on me. put her little front paws up on my leg. with no coaxing. for the very first time

fuck me i felt so lucky

it happened with more and more frequency after that. after that she just became my girl. i got up earlier and planned my mornings around cuddle time because she'd come to me as soon as i got up in the morning.

i had no friends so i would come home from school and it would just be me and her for cuddle time.

in the evenings i would eventually get up and bring her to my room and she'd just sit with me. i didnt need anyone else because i had her beside me.

eventually, i started to show her off. it went from "my family has 2 cats" to "this is MY cat". parents be damned.

i got a job. she figured out i got ready at 1:30 and would come jump up at 1:20 every day like clockwork. i would come home 10 after 11 and she would be at the door. she'd follow me to the bathroom as i changed and downstsirs and back when i got food.

every day. for nearly 2 years

every meaningful event in my life, good or bad, anything at all, i could turn around and she'd be there whether i noticed her or not. one day, something clicked, and i noticed her. and suddenly i needed her. i needed her alot.

most times, it felt like she was my only real companion. the only thing that loved me.

in the nights when i needed something, she would hear my footsteps and follow my every movement until i go back to bed. if i havent picked her up by now i'll leave the door open and she'll join me herself when shes ready. it was never a long wait.

in the evenings, i dont need to bring her in anymore. she looks for me herself. i hear my door creak open and tiny meows and i call 'cmere buddy" and within 10 seconds shes purring in my lap.

eventually there became a time when it became routine to go to the couch first thing in the morning because as soon as i sat down she'd walk over from anywhere in the house to jump up and go to sleep on my lap. on weekends she would come over mid afternoon and sit for hours and hours, long after my switch or phone died or i finished my book and all i had for entertainment was petting her and i was happy like nothing else.

(when my parents saw her come, like a trained dog they only rolled their eyes and muttered unbelievable. i could only laugh.)

i had her trained not to come up until i had a blanket thrown over my lap. sharp little kitty claws.

its mid august. dad asks "what are you gonna do when (i) go away for school and you dont get cuddles anymore?" and all she did was chirp

i started uni. i woke up too early to spare time for cuddles, instead, she twines her way around my feet as i get ready and then meows at me when i open the door from her bed in the entryway.

i get home from uni. i drop my bag, take off my shoes, and pick her up. and we cuddle. sometimes for hours, or atleast until my mom gets a bag of crisps and my cat thinks shes getting treats.

it gets cold. i get home from uni, i add the extra step of taking my sweater off before i pick her up because i cant wear it if its covered in fur and she yells at me every second of the way until im finally able to bring her into my arms.

thats nearly what i did december 5th. i took her outside, took her downstairs, then sat her on my lap. she didnt stay as long as she normally did. i wish she would of. we laid together instead. i got my teddy bear in the end. she allowed this lots the last 2 years.

8 hours later she'd be gone

i can barely walk around at night. its too quiet. i keep my door shut. always shut. theres no reason to leave it ajar anymore. i dont sit on the couch anymore. theres no point. no one to greet me good morning in ways of pitter patters or headbutts or purrs

theres no nice way to end this. she didnt have a nice end either

i miss her so fucking much. for someone who never wanted a cat, who screamed that i wanted her gone. i would do absolutely anything to have her back now. my best friend. my buddy. my girl. my soulmate in the form of a bitchy 8 pound cat.

[falling-feuilles]

Chapter 8

a/n okay so i had a couple chapters already written from a while ago so i’m just gonna slowly post those also sorry for the tiny lil cliffhanger i left y’all on that’s my bad, i hope you like it :)

Y/N didn't remember falling asleep. Lifting her head from the pillow, she noticed the lack of sunlight through her window, cracked slightly to allow the cool air in. The room faced East, catching even the slightest rays of early sun. Sitting up, she paused, a sudden, debilitating pain in her head stopped her in her tracks. Looking around the room, she noticed the figure sitting to her right, sleeping on a rigid, wooden chair.

His glasses sat askew on his nose, nearly falling from his face. His coat, discarded on the back of the chair, brushed the floor, swaying slightly beneath the breeze seeping from the open window.

Y/N made to stand again, this time prepared for the ache in her head. She stepped lightly on the floor, gently removing Pierre's spectacles, setting them on the wooden top of the nearby nightstand. After observing him for a moment, she moved to quietly retrieve a set of clothing from her dresser. She changed quickly in the washroom, skillfully maneuvering her hair into a presentable fashion.

With the staff out of the house, it was deadly silent. After determining the time as around four in the morning, she decided to make her way down to the kitchen and prepare some tea.

Humming quietly under her breath, she portioned out the leaves, moving to open the clasped window on the far side of the room.

The early morning air was wet with moisture, cool on her face. It reminded her of her night riding with Emil, the night before-

"No." she refused to indulge the thought. By no means was she over her grief, but she could not be seen as weak; with her father and sister gone, she would have to become an even greater presence in society. If high society caught even a whiff of frailty from a young, unmarried matriarch, they would pounce like a group of starving wolves.

Carrying a tray set for two, she looked into the room; Pierre was nowhere to be seen. Listening carefully, she heard the creaking of floorboards in her drawing room. Peering through the crack of the door, she saw him pacing, running his hand through his disheveled locks. If she quieted her breathing, she could make out a handful of the words he muttered under his breath.

"... saw her... should've been there... could've done something..."

Even with that handful of phrases, she had a good grasp on his state. He blamed himself. Not for Lise or her father's deaths, but for not being there for her.

She knocked. "Pierre?"

He started, head whipping toward Y/N; she stood in the doorway, tired, but much improved from yesterday.

"I-yes? Oh thank god, I woke up and you weren't there, I thought I had offended you, I'm so sorry-"

"Pierre," she moved forward, shaking her head. "You've done nothing to offend me. If anything, I should be apologizing to you."

"Whatever for?" his eyes narrowed in confusion, watching her carefully as she poured the tea, placing herself delicately on the edge of the chaise.

"You were forced to take care of me, that is not your responsibility. I'm deeply sorry to have been any sort of nuisance to you."

"Are you serious? Y/N don't be ridiculous. You didn't force me to do anything and you are most certainly not a nuisance."

She smiled, looking down at her hands. Pierre sat next to her, taking the small, porcelain cup she offered to him.

"I never asked; why did you come last night?" Y/N had been wondering that since her mind had fully blown away the fog of the last few days. A light, scarlet tint rose on his cheeks, hidden in the dim light of the candles.

"I found out about... about what happened yesterday and, when I heard people had seen you arrive, I wanted to see you, to... to help you, anything. But when I finally arrived, there was no one answering the door. I was going to leave but I heard a scream—your scream—and I thought something was happening."

"Oh... I see... well, still, I'm sorry you had to see me like... well, like that..." Y/N thought back to the crying, quivering mess she was just a handful of hours ago.

"You don't need to apologize for grieving. If anything I... I should have been there; If I'd known, I would've come to the funeral, I should've..." he stopped, looking down, "I should've been there..."

Y/N shook her head, placing her hand on his arm, "Pierre, you had no way of knowing. I'm not upset with you, you know that don't you?"

He met her gaze, laying his hand on her own. It was warm, lightly callused.

"I... yes, I just wish there was something I could have done."

"You've already done it Pierre. Last night I... I don't know what I would have done had you not been there, so... thank you, you are truly a wonderful friend."

"As are you."

"Well," she adjusted herself to be sitting more comfortably, sipping from her tea, "How is the great Count Bezukhov adjusting? It's been far too long since we've spoken."

Pierre laughed and, with the previous tension resolved, the two fell back into the habits of long-standing friendship.

_____

After nearly twenty minutes of Y/N convincing Pierre she was perfectly capable of living by herself for the next few days, he left, catching a cab at the end of the now sunlit street.

Now, it was time to plan. With her being the only remaining presence the Zhudov's had in high society, she would have to attend more fetes than she had previously. The next, conspicuously, was occurring in two days' time, hosted by the one and only Princess Helene Bezhukova. Under normal circumstances, Y/N would have observed the appropriate mourning period and returned to society in some months' time. However, if she was to be seen as the true head of the household, she would have to attend any upcoming parties. If she didn't establish herself as a prominent member of the aristocracy, she would be weak to the influence of other families.

Slowly, she made her way to the study, prepared to take on the enormous piles of paperwork her father had been too unwell to review.

Piled on his desk were countless bills, letters, and invitations, all covered in a thin layer of dust. They hadn't been disturbed since they'd been placed there, they were too neatly stacked to have been placed there by her father's arthritic fingers. In fact, most of the room was covered in a dusty film, showing its disuse.

After turning the gas for the lamps on, she began to sort through the piles. While they were neatly stacked, they were in no semblance of logical order.

The next several hours were occupied with all sorts of clerical work. Struggling tenants, business expenses, anything and everything her father failed to manage. She couldn't truly blame him of course; it wasn't his fault his health had declined so severely, but he had refused to hire any advisors who could take care of such issues in his stead.

It was mid evening by the time everything was sorted. She had taken a short break during the day for a small meal of grain bread with pear preserves. Now, with the sun setting, the ache of hunger began to set in.

Rising from her chair, Y/N left for the kitchen, peering into the pantry and the jars lining the counters. While the kitchen was well stocked with flour, sugar, and the like, there weren't really any heartier foods more fit for a meal. So, she improvised. The kitchen garden was stocked with squash, full and ripe, along with a number of other summer vegetables. The basket in her hands soon carried a small squash, a few stalks of celery, and a small number of other root vegetables.

With no sense of urgency, she began to cube them, humming an old folk rhyme under her breath. The words eluded her, but the melody was familiar. Her mother used to sing it to her when she had been ill, working herself to the bone for the sake of her child. Mother had been sick often in Y/N's youth; her body had never been particularly strong, ravaged by years of hunger and bitter winters.

But she was beautiful; long hair tied beneath her patched scarves, plump lips, and the bearing of royalty. She was kind, excessively so, always willing to help a neighbor, give what she could; she never turned a hungry soul away, even if it meant she'd have to starve herself. In the end, it was her kindness that killed her; at least, that's what the other villagers said. And, in a sense, they were right. She gave so much and, in her time of need, no one gave anything back. She'd died a starving, broken woman, forced to send her child to the man who abandoned them both.

Y/N had always held resentment towards her father. He hadn't known she'd existed. Not until she turned up at his door, dressed in rags, clutching an envelope containing her father's old seal ring as well as a letter from her mother, begging him to look after her. His wife, Lise's mother, was determined to turn her away, claiming she'd bring 'filthy blood' into the household but her father had insisted.

The first few months of her new life had been rough. Adjusting from a peasant girl living off of scraps and gruel to life as a Princess, one who was set for life.

Lise’s mother, Alyona Petrovich Meinena, was an angry woman. Angry at her husband, at her daughter, and herself. Lise, bless her heart, never quite measured up to Y/N, not where it counted, in her mother’s eyes, at least. Lise was incredibly kind, quite a gifted writer, and excellent on horseback. Her embroidery was average, at best, but still good, her musical abilities the same, her art, below average but still passable. Y/N’s wasn’t. She excelled in all those fields, not out of an abundance of natural talent, but out of fear. Fear that, if she failed to become the perfect child, the perfect heir, the perfect wife for a perfect match, she would be sent away, back to those cold forests and fields, spending hours digging at the frozen ground with her hands and a stick, wasting to nothingness just like her mother. But Lise’s mother didn’t know that, how could she? That woman had never done a hard days’ work in her life, unless you counted beating her ward, that is. The first two years weren’t terrible. The occasional slap on the cheek, ruler to the back of her hand, standard things. But then, as Y/N’s father began to travel more and more on business, leaving the girls alone with her, it got worse. While Lise sat in the music room, playing soft, little lullabies, Y/N sat on the floor of her room, denied dinner and locked inside. It was only when Alyona became sick that the beatings stopped. Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn't relieved when she'd heard the news of Alyona’s death.

After the stew had finished, she sat, cross-legged on the back steps, staring up into the vast expanse of the sky. The stars were bright, spread across the night's inky veil like dew on the morning grass. Densely packed, they shone like diamonds, illuminating the earth with the help of the waning moon. If she looked carefully, she could see familiar constellations, ones her mother would tell her stories of. They weren't the real stories, her mother would have had no way of knowing the real ones, but they still brought comfort to her on lonely nights; nights such as this.

Tomorrow, she would have to appear utterly regal and unbothered. It was going to be a long, arduous day.

[toonjazzy]

Enmendar

Just a scene from the Dystopia AU. Obviously I am not close to this part in my actual writing yet but I can’t get this out of my head…

May 29th, 2019, Scorching Sandpaper Desert

Young Devon ran and ran through the desert, she was lucky it was late and not boiling hot. She had barely escaped from the Trippy Dimension not too long ago and was already back at it again with her little adventures. This time she went by herself to stop the bad guys, she would’ve taken someone with her to help but she couldn’t, not after what happened last year. She was lucky it was just two people and not a large group, but she almost died. There was a bomb in the building, she doesn’t know how but she somehow escaped just in time. She continued to run, it was the adrenaline rush pumping through her veins. She knew nobody was after her but she just felt like she needed to run. And luck wasn’t on her side, it began drizzling on her as she ran. “No…Not now…” she mumbled. She tried to run faster, just looking for somewhere to go, she remembered Lyra’s house was around her close by. “I have no choice…I’d have to talk to her sooner or later…” she said to herself, after 3 more minutes she could feel her legs getting ready to give out. She was exhausted, but still she continued to move. “I have…to get there…” she said running out of breath.

Lyra Oler walked outside with her umbrella, she loved the days when it would rain in the desert, the way it got colder and she could feel a nice breeze. She walked around in the light drizzle and smiled. However, her smile faded when she noticed a figure stumbling a few feet away from her. She got closer and recognized who it was, “Devon! What are you doing out here, are you okay?” She said in concern. Devon tried to look at her, “Lyra…Help me…” she said as she collapsed, Lyra quickly caught her. “Devon!” She shouted. She set her umbrella down and carried Devon into her house. She called out for her mothers to help, their heart broke as they saw Devon look so messed up. They carefully cleaned up her cuts and set her down in Lyra’s room to rest as Lyra tried to come in contact with Devon’s older sister.

The next morning arrived, Devon woke up being confused as to where she was. She looked around and recognized the photographs on the wall across from her and realized she knew whose room this was. She jumped out of bed and nearly screamed. “It wasn’t part of my dream!” She said. She heard the door open, Lyra walked in with a tray of breakfast. “Hey sleepyhead.” She said. Devon simply stared at her as she reached for her shades, “What the Hell happened?” She asked. Lyra shrugged, “I don’t know, you just showed up to my house and collapsed.” She said so gently. Devon’s memories flooded back in, “Oh…Oh how embarrassing!” She said as she flopped back onto Lyra’s bed. “You were badly shaken up, Devi…You had me so worried.” The shorter girl said. “It was just me going on another adventure to stop evil…” Devon replied unamused. “Why were you alone?” Lyra asked. Devon looked down feeling guilt, “You know why…” she said sadly. Lyra was confused for a moment before finally realizing, “Oh…….Devi…That wasn’t your fault. It was my choice.” She said. Devon almost snapped, “You almost fucking died because of me! You were in a coma! And then you woke up and I didn’t go see you, I avoided you like a coward! I didn’t talk to you for almost a year! And then what did I do next!? I fucking begged you to help me when I was trapped in the Trippy Dimension and now here I am, sitting in your house! I’m a horrible fucking friend, why are you being so nice to me!?” She ranted, her face was red, she had tears streaming down her cheeks. Lyra stared for a few seconds before she also cried and hugged Devon, “I know how hard it was for you…But nobody blames you, it was my choice! I hope you know, I chose to go with you, I chose to fight, and I chose to take the hit for you. Nobody forced me to. It hurt more when you were avoiding me than when I almost died…” she said so soothingly. Devon cried again, “I’m sorry, I really am! That was the worst mistake, I shouldn’t have avoided you like that. But I was so scared that would hate me!” The young teen said. “It’s okay, what matters is that we learn from this, Devi.” Said Lyra. Lyra leaned over and gave Devon a kiss on the cheek, Devon blushed a bit. “Now eat your breakfast, it’s getting cold!” Lyra said laughing. Devon smiled, she missed having her best friend around and hearing her laugh.

[ajwinter-is-a-nerd]

Le Chat Et Le Serpent - Chapter 54

Please note that the entirety of this story is a ****TRIGGER WARNING***** - mentions of child abuse, graphic violence, alcohol use, mental health, suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm - basically a constant blow of pain towards the characters - as well as some "steamier" moments.

This is an additional trigger warning - this chapter goes over Luka's past which includes self-harm, overdose, suicide attempts/ideation, and additional mental illness facets.

Chapter Summary:

Our boys are starting to fall apart.

The chapter song is Nightmares by All Time Low (included in body)

Digging up old memories

Always used to be the one to let it go

Got my fears in a suitcase

I locked them away

In a place they wouldn't find

They still haunt me

Nightmares by All Time Low

-

Siren’s reflected off Luka’s glasses as he watched the sparking of his lighter. It kept spitting thin lines of fire, refusing to flame against the tip of his cigarette. 

“Here,” Jagged cupped his hand around his lighter as he brought it to Luka’s smoke. 

Inhaling, Luka stared into the bright light that offered him solace.

The fire didn’t feel hot as it crackled before his eyes. He set his hand out, inches from it, the fire was erasing what had happened. Never again would he be strangled in his sleep from the memories of his blood stained sheets. 

Screams were distant in the background. 

What if he went into the fire? Would it take the rest of it away? 

They sounded like they were yelling his name, but he couldn’t tell for certain. 

Anarka’s screams surrounded Luka as she picked the boy off the ground. 

Even within her embrace, she still felt distant.

-

Luka rubbed his temple as he backed away from the flame, taking a deep inhale. 

“I’m sorry, Luka. I really am.” Jagged stared at his own smoke in his hand. He hated that the boy was following in his steps. He had such a light in him, and Jagged knew he helped to ruin it. 

“Whatever. Just don’t tell the Captain.” Luka bit his nicotine stained thumb, the irony not lost on him. 

-

“Dad?” Luka didn’t like this house. Everyone was falling and the music was too loud. “Jagged Stone?” 

He continued to push through the crowd. 

“Hey, Little Man!” A strange woman kneeled in front of Luka. “What are you doing here?” 

“My dad brought me.” Little Luka rubbed his arm as he stared down to his feet. The floor was sticky with liquor and ash. 

“Oh shit, you’re Jagged’s kid, aren’t you?” Her lilac lips grinned at him.

“Y-yeah. Have you seen him?” His baby blue eyes were watering.

“How old are you?” She scanned the party. A group was around a table sharing a bag of coke, at least three different women wore nothing but a thong, and the room was thick with smoke.

“Almost seven.” His voice croaked. 

“ALMOST SEVEN! Oh, you’re nearly a man! We need to find your dad, Little man.” She grabbed his hand. She’d known Jagged for a bit now, but she never thought he could do something like this. Why the fuck did he bring his kid here? “YO! ANYONE KNOW WHERE JAGGED IS?” 

The only thing the room could agree on was that no one knew. 

“Is your sister here, too?” The woman turned towards him, worried there could be another seven year old running around in this cesspool. 

“No, she’s sick.” Luka tightened his grip around her hand. 

“Thank god.” She mumbled as she scribbled along a piece of paper. “Let’s get out of here, Little Man. Are you hungry?” 

-

Luka’s face was covered in chocolate ice cream as he snored along the booth. But when morning came, she had to leave; she had her own emergencies to attend to. Gazing back towards the sleeping boy, she prayed that Jagged saw her note. The boy would be so heartbroken if he woke up all alone. 

His stomach hurt as he woke up, the unfamiliar girl was gone. He sat there with no idea what to do, so he waited. The waitstaff kept bringing him little activities and snacks, but he stayed nearly completely still. He stared out the window and watched people pass. 

“Luka, my boy!” The restaurant clamoured around the rock idol. 

Luka watched as he gave every guest more individual attention than he’d ever received from his father. Finally, Jagged made it to his table, gaining a temporary girlfriend. 

“Who’s the kid?” She asked as she bit at his neck.

“That’s my kid!” Jagged smiled in pride as Luka stared out the window. 

“What’s wrong with him?” She grimaced at the kid with dark hair and oversized cerulean eyes. 

His teeth clenched at his mention, but he watched as a woman in a peacoat walked past the diner. It was easier to do that than to acknowledge he was coherent to the fact that the fan girl was sliding under the table. 

Jagged was terrible at saying no. 

The whole ride home, Luka kept his head straight. He never wanted to say anything to his father again. 

“Listen, I know I messed up. How can I make it up to you?” 

The boy’s face didn’t even flinch. 

“Please, we can do anything! The sky’s the limit!” 

The silence grew thicker between them. 

“Why don’t I take you and Juleka for a week to LA? They have the best amusement parks and you guys can go to bed whenever you want!” 

“I don’t want you ever near me again.” Luka finally spoke. 

“Luka, I know I’m lame, but-,” 

Flame burst from the boy’s steeled eyes as he screamed. “NO. YOU CARE MORE ABOUT SEX AND DRUGS THAN MY LIFE. DON'T EVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN!” 

“Wh-what about Juleka? What about your mom?” Jagged stuttered, the fear of completely losing his family palatable. 

Luka resumed his cold stare. 

“Please, Luka. Please don’t tell the Captain.” 

He never did. 

Jagged never reached out to him again.

Anarka started to realise something was seriously awry with Luka when he started asking who his Dad was. His father had never been a large presence in their life, but this was the first time she saw the broken look in his eyes. 

When she took him back home from the hospital after he set the fire around his eleventh birthday, she stood outside his door, listening to him play. It was a joyous and upbeat tune. He had an elated energy. Over his playing, she could hear Luka laughing. The psychiatrists said he’d been talking about strange dreams. 

“Can you believe I had a dream that our dad was Jagged Stone?” Luka’s laugh was sweet, but the reality that Anarka had tried to ignore was devastating. 

-

Jagged lowered his head at the comment. He was certainly no longer the boy he’d lost at a party. 

“Did they give you anything in there?” Jagged asked, not realising that his sentiment of concern wasn’t going to be taken that way. 

“What? Jagged Stone can’t get his own shit?” Luka snorted before taking another drag.

“That’s not what I meant! For your head, kid!” Jagged aggressively tapped at his own head. 

“Our ride’s here.” Luka pointed towards the blacked out vehicle driving towards them. 

“Listen,” Jagged stomped out his smoke before seizing the collar of Luka’s leather jacket, “I know I fucked up as a parent. Royally fucked up. And I had no fucking idea how bad you were struggling. I wasn’t there. But we were getting better. You were getting better. You had a better head on your shoulders than anyone your age when fucking Butterfly Demon guy brought you back to me. We were talking. If I set up the same therapy session we had back home, will you come? I hate seeing you like this. You might not believe it, but I love you Luka. We’ve come so far in the past seven years and it fucking kills me to see you killing yourself like this.” 

“Fucking Gabriel.” Luka shook his head as he opened the door to the car, still sliding over for Jagged. 

“You know, you might not remember it, but I did still try to be there! I,” Jagged reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, “I always kept every birthday photo from you two. I made sure you guys got into the good schools. I was on the phone with Anarka every time you tried to kill yourself, Luka. I didn’t know what to fucking do. The moment you asked me if I was your dad, my whole life changed. It meant I finally got to actually be here for your hard moments! I love you Luka. Please. Don’t follow my shitty lead.” 

Against what his angry heart wanted to do, Luka shifted his eyes towards the pictures. He’d forgotten how much Juleka loved her red hair. He tried to remember why she ever switched to purple, but the memory was just out of reach. 

-

Everything felt light. He knew he was dreaming. Juleka was crying as she was tying a dishcloth over his wrist. Didn’t she know it was only a dream? It was amazing, how the blood so elegantly spiralled down his finger.

He lifted his arm, watching the material around the knot seep scarlet. 

“Jules,” Luka smiled towards her, “it matches your hair.” 

Juleka’s face faded to white as Luka held it next to her head. 

“Luka, come on.” Juleka tried to tug at his unmarred arm while balancing bile and terror. 

“Don’t worry Juleka, I’ll wake up soon.

-

“What is your lead? I’m here because I fucking need to be. You didn’t have to leave us. You wrote about how awesome it is to be without your family. I write about how much I miss him.” Luka pulled another smoke out of his pack and pushed down the mini ashtray between him and Jagged. 

“Luka, you’ve always loved with your whole heart. You took after your mom in that way. I remember her calling me when that fucking older guy broke your heart. I wanted to break his goddamn legs.” Jagged lit Luka’s smoke once again. “Do I need to break Adrien’s legs?” 

The trouble, with no one knowing the whole story, is that Luka was merely a boy who had his heart broken, and was running around the world to forget him. It infuriated him. That people would tell him that ‘whoever broke his heart must be an idiot’. He would shrug it off. Jagged, however, was not just anyone. 

Adrenaline surged as Luka’s fist collided into Jagged’s face. “NO - I AM FUCKING DOING EVERYTHING I CAN TO KEEP HIM ALIVE!” 

His fist barely hurt as he recoiled it, even though the flesh around his knuckles were raw. He’d left a sickeningly dark purple mark that already started to crawl up Jagged’s cheek. 

“Jesus! You have a hell of a right hook m’boy!” Jagged rubbed the point where his jaw and skull met, trying to make sure it was still intact. 

Jagged looked back towards Luka, seeing his own reflection both in the glasses and the seething boy behind them. “How is overdosing keeping him alive, Luka? Do you die and then he gets to live? Made a deal with the devil?” 

-

“What do you say?” He ran a pill across his lips. 

The man aptly called the pill ‘the brick’, both because of its ashy red shade and the way it nearly knocked you out. Luka hadn't quite listened to the explanation, he didn’t fully understand the strength of the drug that was running against the man’s lips. Besides prescriptions, Luka had always managed to steer clear of narcotics; he knew from his dad how much they could tear lives apart. But he didn’t hear the warnings, he couldn’t think of his dad, all he could think of was the fact that there was something that could take his pain away rubbing against thin pink lips in front of him. 

Luka ran his hands through the man’s thin bleached hair. His eyes were a forest green as they glimmered to Luka, waiting for his answer. Instead of vocalising it, Luka brought his lips to his. They were dry, but at least something sweet came from them. Relaxation. 

Falling onto the bed, Luka pulled him closer. “Adrien,” he whispered towards the man. 

“Oh, um,” Luka pressed his lips against the fake Adrien’s so that he wouldn’t have to hear him correct his namesake. 

Stretching back, it was still too clear. His eyes were too dark. Luka swung his hand off the side of the bed, reaching for the neck of his Jamesons bottle. “Give me another one.” 

“Luka, you need to be careful oh well, you’re just really going for it aren’t you?” Fake Adrien watched as Luka slid three more pills past his lips. Maybe if Fake Adrien had said it was ‘oxycodone’, or if Luka had asked, he would have been more cautious. 

Instead of words, Fake Adrien opened his mouth to ask for more. Luka passed back the ziplock bag housing the discontinued pills, waiting for the pain to stop. He’d taken entire bottles of pills and still came out the other side before… surely a few red pills could not do more. 

Nathalie had requested Sass’s presence on her current mission, leaving him completely alone. He thought that he’d be fine. But all he could think about was Adrien, about seeing him again. He’d done everything he was supposed to, so whenever he finally got his chance to go back, Adrien was going to hate him. What made it worse, is that Luka didn’t have a cure for him. He was going to see the rage and hurt in Adrien’s eyes, and then it will all be over. 

The lines of reality continued to blur, but it didn’t feel any stronger than anything Luka had experienced from his own neurodivergent rollercoaster. 

With an inebriated smile, Nearly Adrien passed back the baggie. Luka bent over the edge of the bed, seemingly putting his bottle down, while he grabbed another two pills. Just a couple more and maybe he could truly believe this was Adrien. 

His body started to warm as his face went numb. He looked over at the blonde boy. A surge of contentment pulsed through his body. 

“You okay, baby?” Fake Adrien ran his hands along Luka’s face. 

Tears trickled against Luka’s cheeks as he nodded, “Now that you’re here.” He kissed the man’s wrist before holding it back against his own face. “I missed you.” 

Luka pulled the man against his chest and ran his fingers through his hair. 

-

“I didn’t fucking mean to.” Luka just wanted to feel like Adrien was back. That everything was going to be okay. How did he end up being the damn Bella Swan out of the two of them? 

“Luka, don’t take fucking pills you know nothing about! And I thought this,” Jagged waved his smoke in the air, “was the vice you took over opioids, isn’t that what you said?” 

“I KNOW! I KNOW!” Luka took off his glasses as he pulled himself into a ball. “I just, I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know why. I don’t understand. It just never stops.” 

“Hey,” Jagged took the smoke that was quivering from Luka’s hand and, along with his own, put it out. He soothed his hand on Luka’s back. “I’ve been there. Don’t let it ruin you like it ruined me. Please.” 

-

I gotta say it’s hard to be brave

When you’re alone in the dark

I told myself that I wouldn’t be scared

But I’m still having nightmares 

(I’m wide awake, I’m wide awake)

Nightmares by All Time Low

-

The buzzer of the intercom rang through the apartment. Adrien hated it. He hated that she forced him to reinstall it. He wanted that noise to stop. Every time the buzzer went off he was at the hospital. Every time the buzzer went off, Luka left him all over again. 

It can’t be her. Adrien thought. If it was her, I wouldn’t be able to control myself from letting her in. 

“Who do you think it is?” Plagg asked from his perch on Adrien’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know. But I want that noise to stop.” Adrien’s chest heaved as he stared at the intercom. “Plagg, what the fuck magic is this?” Adrien grit his teeth watching the Kwami out of the corner of his eye.

“Are - are you sure it’s not just a little bit of trauma from the hospital? Maybe seeing your parents rings triggered something?” Plagg hated lying like this to the boy, but he was worried what a fight against Marinette would look like with only him. It seems no matter what it would end in damnation, in the form of death or servitude. 

Infuriated, Adrien walked to the medicine cabinet and stuffed one of the small circular pills in his mouth. He may not believe that they were the proper medication for him, but at least they numbed the torture of constantly living under Marinette’s control. 

The buzzer kept going. Over and over. Adrien tore a mug from the cabinet and whipped it against the wall. 

Plagg turned to the intercom and pressed it himself. He couldn’t ask who was there, but he could let them in. 

When the elevator dinged, Adrien was clasping to the counter. If he didn’t have to let them in, would it work as a loophole? 

Alya came out of the elevator, slowly treading through the doors Plagg had propped open for her. She gasped at the state of the house before turning to Adrien. It appeared as if a tornado ran through it. If anything was breakable, it was littered over Adrien’s floor. However, the most horrific was the blood stains that had been left to crust along the walls.

“What’s up, Alya?” The friendly phrase was raspy. 

She slowly stepped forward, her hormones making the fight to not break down into tears considerably more challenging. She wanted to brush Adrien’s face, but the degree that his cheeks had sunken was too terrifying to touch. His face was a powder white with imperial purple bags under his eyes. 

Forcing herself to stay strong, she pushed out the words she’d been looking for. “I came… I came to ask you for help.” 

“What do you need?” His movements were languid as he rested his elbows on the counter to help support his weight. 

“I.. Um… I want to talk to Felix for the Ladyblog, but they’re only letting family see him. Will you come with me?” 

Before agreeing, Adrien stepped forward, testing to see if there was anything preventing him from this excursion. “Yeah, let’s go.” Adrien immediately started walking towards the door, scared that if Marinette found out before he went, he wouldn’t be able to go. 

“Right now? Oh, okay!” Alya scampered after him, trying her best to ignore the haunting state of his house. 

-

Adrien pressed his head against the window as he longingly watched as cars drove past. He wanted that back, that feeling of freedom he felt the first time when he got out of the hospital and drove his Mini. 

“Are you nervous?” Alya watched him out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t know what she was allowed to say.

“Something like that.” Adrien tousled his hair. He hated its current state. Marinette suggested that he get the same one from high school, and of course, he couldn’t resist. It was a far messier version, especially since the sides were still about half an inch shorter than the hair on the top. 

As Adrien fidgeted, Alya could see the various shades of pink along his palm. 

“What happened to your hand, Adrien?” Alya debated slowing down even more, just to make their trip a little longer. 

Adrien gripped his fist shut. Some scars were from his nails, some were from whatever thing he broke in his hand while he tried to resist whatever order Marinette gave him. 

“The speed’s 110, Alya.” Adrien ignored her question, getting irritated at how slowly she drove. He always drove fast. 

“Does Marinette live with you now?” Alya couldn’t imagine how bad it would be for him if she lived there all the time. 

“She comes over twice a week.” Adrien’s bit his lip in frustration that she came over at all. 

Sensing Adrien’s unease, Alya decided to divert topics. “So, do you think Lila ever actually watched Felix Akumatize someone?” 

His face was so ashen it somehow looked dirty as he laughed. “It is hard to believe! Felix had a rough patch for sure, but she was there ! I don’t know how she’s so much worse!” 

“I mean, you’d think since she can basically piss anyone off that she’d be the perfect replacement!” Alya snorted as they turned into the prison parking lot. 

“I think it’s because we need traits that match with our Kwamis to actually be strong. Being able to understand and influence emotions, besides solely anger, is something I don’t think Lila has.” Adrien theorised as they made their way to the entry.

-

Felix and Adrien had never perfectly mirrored each other so much in their life. They were both dishevelled and exhausted beyond comprehension. 

Felix’s eyes glimmered as he saw his guests, immediately bringing a bounce to his step.

“Ugh, this is gonna be rough.” Adrien dropped his forehead in his hands. “It’s never good when he has that look.” 

Felix dropped to the table in front of them as his grin grew. “You look gorgeous , Adrien. Bet you’re regretting not taking my deal now.” He tapped his fingers along the table between them. 

“That’s not what we’re here to talk about.” Adrien leaned back in his chair, unsettled by Felix’s joy. 

“It’s what she’s here to talk about.” Felix’s eyes turned to Alya and lowly whispered, “I won’t tell you shit about the rings unless he’s not at the table.” 

The hairs on the back of Alya’s neck prickled. She wasn’t sure what she had been anticipating, but it definitely wasn’t hearing those words. 

“Adrien,” Alya turned towards him, “can you give us a minute?” 

Scoffing, Adrien stood from the table. “It’s fine, I needed to go to the bathroom anyway.” 

“Pretty ballsy still letting him hold that Miraculous. Before you know it, we’ll have an entirely new super villain duo.” Felix raised an eyebrow to Alya, as if inviting her to play a game. 

-

“Kid, are you okay?” Plagg hovered by Adrien’s face as he clung onto the edges of the sink. 

“Do I look okay, Plagg? I must be fine, I’ve been taking my meds haven’t I? That’s the magical solution to all my made up , insane fucking problems.” Adrien seethed as his arms started to buckle under his rage. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sure that we can work stuff out. You know, maybe you could ask Alya to take you back to the hospital?” Plagg thought at least he wouldn’t have to follow her orders there.

“One evil for another. Either way I’m being controlled, away from the people I love, a fucking living breathing ghost.” 

“I love you, Adrien.” Plagg smoothed some of the hair out of Adrien’s face; his attempts did not stay considering he was working against gravity.

“There will always be someone ready to destroy themselves. I’m sure you’ll find a new holder without a damn problem.” Adrien’s knuckles whitened as his anger flowed through his fingers onto the ceramic. 

“Not one like you.” Plagg nuzzled into the crook of Adrien’s neck. Snake Boy better come back soon. 

“Thanks, Plagg.” Adrien forced himself to say as tears fell to the sink. “Why- why doesn’t it ever stop?” 

Still clinging to the edge, Adrien squatted to the ground, heaving through sobs.

-

Adrien had barely sat down before the buzzer acknowledging the end of visitor time went off. 

Fucking god damn buzzers. Go to hell.

“Sorry we didn’t get a chance to chat, cousin . I really do wish you the best.” Felix clicked his tongue as he was lifted from his seat. As one final piece of discomfort, Felix winked towards Alya as he said, “Give me a call if you ever get tired of your Turtle.” 

Alya’s blood chilled, Adrien’s brother had done his homework. She had a feeling, this wouldn’t be the last they saw of Felix, especially with the Miraculous still missing. 

“What did you two talk about?” Adrien dragged his feet as they walked towards the exit, not wanting to go back ‘home’.

“Oh, pretty much just said everything we already thought. He went on about how you guys would have been an amazing power wielding duo.” A truth hidden within a lie. Both her and Felix agreed until Alya was told otherwise, it was best to follow Bunnyx’s ruling. Until Luka came back, they wouldn’t risk trying to get Adrien to sneak off his own ring; if he erred in any way it could quickly lead to his death. 

Author's Notes:

This chapter literally meant so much to me. Out of all the chapter's this is the one that speaks the most from the heart. I have written Luka as experiencing BPD the way that I experience BPD. It may be important to note that there are some crossovers within myself (such as possible schizotypal). No one's experience with any mental illness will be the same. Through Luka, though, I get to show how this stuff feels and looks to me.

-

If we were to pull out the DSM-5 and determine why Luka has BPD...

Borderline personality is often associated with abandonment at a young age. There are a lot of other factors and disorders that derive from childhood trauma, but BPD is often associated with abandonment.

It is something that will never be fully “cured” but you can continue to treat it to make it manageable. Ex. Sass is the “stress case”, but the calmest, because he had to learn it.

BPD can include blurring of reality and disassociation/depersonalization; impulsive and risky behaviour; lack of self regard; depersonalization; the need to be loved while siamotainously, neverendingly, working to fuck up your life.

The opioids were an important one to mention because it’s not that Luka suddenly decides, “heroin sounds like a great idea.” It’s the not fully considering or understanding the weight of your actions. Myself, and other people close to me, have dealt with similar situations of impulse control. When you come out of that current swing you’re looking at yourself like, “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

This kind of works as an awareness to others and to the actions of characters. We are always responsible for the havoc we cause, but understanding why is important.

Also - trauma blocking is pretty common for all humans (to my understanding). I don’t think it would be quite the level of forgetting your dad was related to you, but it is a defence mechanism your brain will pop up to help you get through shit.

I did a lot of research to make sure I found a red pill. Just happened to be ‘lucky’ that it was oxycodone. Luka did take a lethal amount, and the pills were (according to the website I was on, anyway) discontinued. It is important to also understand that, in regards to opioids, Luka is showing abuse instead of addiction. The addiction is taking form in alcohol.

-

And Adrien continues to fall further. His weight? When Adrien gets overly stressed he has problems eating. Since he’s freaking the eff out, he’s really not doing well in every form of health.

- We also see the dramatic irony from the last chapter come into play, we know that the ring came off Gabriel’s finger … buuuuut…. ‘Twas Felix grabbing his own ring.

-

What did you guys think? Luka’s was a newer addition, but the prison visit has been there since the initial storyboard. Im interested to hear what this walk down “everybody is fucking falling apart” lane has been life for everyone!

-

Oh - random little point. Fake Adrien gives Luka a pill in his mouth. Luka refuses to give a pill directly to him, but will only pass the bag. Just a little, very deliberate, tid bit there.

-

Another fun little piece- I did want to find a red pill for Luka, because the pills Adrien takes different red pills Adrien takes are also red. Very different , but both red.

Hope everyone is doing well! Thank you for reading!!!

[midsummereve1993]

@youlightmeupfinn @la-undercover-latina @appetite4savage @ali-r3n

A/n so after reading a story I got the ideal and boom here it is, I definitely laughed when I started this because I had so many ideas in my head lol. Also I thought this would be funny to write and I laughed the whole time.

Warnings childbirth

We have a what

July 10 2022 5:00 am

Karly woke to a sharp pain running down her stomach and hissed at the sudden discomfort she felt, since yesterday she had be having sharp pains running down her stomach and knew her period was due any day now so she wasn't really worry. She looked Over to her husband tommy who was soundly sleeping next to her and smiled at the sight, she had be on tour with tommy since last mouth and tonight the show was in Detroit Michigan and she couldn’t he happier.

Her neice stormy lived near by and had planned to met up with her later this afternoon to spend her some time with her, she thought back to when she and tommy and the trouble it started. Her elder brother by nine years was mick mars and when she first met tommmy she was 21 and they instantly hit it off, they kept it a secret for a couple of mouths until they finally come clean and at first mick wasn't thrilled but he got used to the ideal.

She knew mick only wanted what was best for her especially since she helped him when he would get the kids when they were younger and watched them while he went out and made some money so they didn't end up on the streets. Now here they were tommy and her have be together for 41 years and she sure enjoyed every minute of it.

She hissed again at the pain and tried to get yo quietly before she felt a hand on her arm stopping her from leaving and a voiced asking if she was ok, "yes baby I'm fine just the discomfort of the pains in my stomach she said as his hands begin to rub her stomach. "Maybe I should take you to the hopsital baby just to check you out because mick will never forgive me if I allowed something to happen to you.

"Haha true but tommy there isn't anything anybody can do, "it is just my period about to begin and that Is all nothing to worry about and plus the pain is gone now so why don't we just go back to bed for a little while she said sinking down into the bed as she curled up to her husband. "Sounds he said as they dosed off.

July 10 200 12:00 pm

"Ow karly hissed at the very sharp pain she felt and a lot more sharper then this morning that she was beginning to think this was something else then her period, she had started having them at 9 this morning and kept comming. She tried to make her way to her cellphone that laid on the kitchen but a very huge pain hit her and she went down to the ground crying out as she held her stomach. She freaked when she realized they were contractions and nearly fainted because there is no way she could be pregnant.

She and tommy had tired for years to have a third child especially after having there two boys bit sadly nothing ever happen which broke her heart but maybe it was for the best and now here she was aong on the floor probably about to give birth by herself, suddenly she heard the door opened and heard her brother and neice calling her name so she did the only thing she could could and that was screamed.

Mick upon hearing his sister scream rushed unto the kitchen and saw her on the floor with her legs spread wide as she cried and he rushed over to her, "mick please make it stop make it stop she screamed as mick looked bewteen her legs and his daughter who was holding her hand. His face suddenly turned pale when he saw the top of blonde hair peeking through making him nearly faint as he placed his hands on the head to support it and make sure she didn't tear.

Mick had no ideal how he got into this situations, he delivered one of his grandchildren and his neice and her son and had decided to get his midwife license as a joke but never thought they would actually come in handy, "ok sis I need you to breathe with Me said as she watched the top of his neice or Nephew hand appear more and more making karly scream at the discomfort. "It hurts mick it hurts so bad she said crying and begging for tommy which only made mick and stormy worry more.

"I knew Karly but tommy is nearly here stormy said hoping to ease her aunt's pain but she knew nothing could ease it and her heart broke, "ok karly I need you to give me a great big push to get the hand out ok mick said as his sister curled into the contraction and pushed with all her might. "Ughhhhhhhhhh karly said panting as she fell back on the ground and scream at the sudden burning sensation in bewteen her legs.

"Karly where you at tommy yelled comming into the house frantically searching around before he heard mick voice comming from the kitchen and rushed in there to see his wife laying on the floor with his neice beside her and mick in bewteen her legs, dropping down beside his wife he looked into her eyes and saw the pain, "Drummer come here beween her legs and catch your baby mick said pulling tommg In bewteen her legs and him geting beside his sister.

"My what no way dude I think I would know if my wife was giving birth, "Drummer shut up and listen there is a head crowing and you need to place your hands on the head to help ease the baby out do she dosn’t teat mick said turning back to his sister and helping her Breath. "I.... bang he heard and saw his brother-in-law passed out on the ground forcing his daughter to go bewteen his sister legs and help deliver the baby.

"Stuipd drummer seen a lot of stuff but the slight of his wife giving birth makes him go down mick said turning back to his sister, "ok sis listen to me I need you to take a deep breath and push mick said helping his sister curl into a ball and helped her push. "Perfect mick said as he watched the baby head pop out making his sister screamed. "Please mick no more, "please no more I can't she said crying harder then mick has ever seen her.

"I know honey but listen to me, "you had be waiting on this for a long time and now your almost there you just need one more push. "I know your scared and trust me we are too but your baby is ready to meet you and you need to pushed. Karly nodded her head and curl up again to push screaming before she felt the pressure disappeared and the cry of a baby, "it's a girl stormy said placing the baby on her aunt chest and watching as the baby let out it vocals at being taken out of a warm place.

"Hi baby hi karly said crying mick helped her get into a laying position so her back was on the wall of the counter, "ow my head tommy said geting up before he felt a smack across his head making him wince. "Ow dude my head is already hurting and why did you do that. "Because you fainted when your wife needed you and making us deliver your child mick said seeing his eyes widen as he looked toward his wife.

"Tommy meet your daughter Olivia Claire karly said as Tommy come near to her, oh my gosh we never knew and now we have a little girl he said bending down to kiss his wife on the lips, "the boys are going to flip out because they have a little sister. "I know baby but oh my gosh we have no clothes or a crib or anything she said freaking out before Tommy placed a hand on her arm.

"Sweetheart it is ok let’s just get you cleaned up and checked out before we do anything else. After being taken to the hospital and both of his girls was checked out they were released with a clean bill of health and they headed back to the house where he saw his bandmates there along with the wife's.

"What are yall guys doing here, "I mean I know mick is staying here but the rest of yall, "well shortly after everything happend mick called us and told us what happen so we all went to the store and brought some stuff and got things settled in come inside and see Vince leading his then into the house and upstairs.

Opening the door they were greeted by bears on the floor and a bear rug and right in the middle of the room is a bear crib and bed sheets making her tear up, "guys yall didn't have to do this at all she said looking at all of them as each of them give her a kiss on the cheek. "Yes but we wanted to because in the past you helped all of us and all the crap we all put you through we wanted to make up for it.

"Well this definitely makes up for it she said heading into the room and placed her daughter into the crib and stood back, she was so glad that she had a family who loved her and would do anything to help her.

Later that night during thr show nikki Come up to the Mike and told everybody that tommy and his wife welcome there daughter into the world that they had no idea they were even excepting, she stood backstage with the wife's holding there daughter she hoped that this would last forever but just four mouths later her brother announced he was retiring from touring which sadden her but she knows he needed that and now he would get a chance to spend with her and his family.

[weirdmorefics]

Hi! Your last Bridgerton reader was so cute! Could you do one where young reader (like 4 or 5) has bad speech(but it’s cute) and she sees Anthony with Kate one day and runs up to him stealing him away because Anthony Is ‘her papa’ and Kate can’t have him and she gets upset when he tells her he wants to marry Kate because she knows he’ll have kids and forget about her, but Kate finds it cute and Anthony just adores his youngest sister who he sees as a daughter.

A/N- Thank you! I hope you like it!!

Warning- None

Pronouns- She/Her

Word Count- 372

Summary- The youngest Bridgerton sibling Y/N, is scared Anthony will leave her for Kate.

Two Is Better Than One

I did not like it when Anthony started the courting season he was away nearly every night! I would have to go to bed every night without a bedtime story it was awful! I am so happy today is the last day of the season, everything will go back to normal. 

I woke up very early so I could be the first one at the table. Then I saw Anthony with Kate in the dining room.

“Hello, Kate... why are you here?”

Anthony quickly stood up and smiled “Good morning Y/N”

“The season done why Kate here!” I throw my hands up.

Anthony bends down to my level “I have good news Y/N” he smiles. “Kate and I are getting married.”

I wrap my arms around Anthony “NO! You are my Papa! You can’t leave me!” I cried.

Anthony assured me nobody could pry him away from me and hugged me tightly.

Kate smiled and leaned down to me “I would never take your Papa away nobody could. He talks about you all the time! To be honest I think you’re his favorite sibling. Shh, do not tell the others.” She said whispering the last part

I smile and nod then look at Anthony seriously “Bedtime stories are still a must!”

Anthony tries to hold back a laugh he picks me up and spins me. “Of course princess and you know what! I bet Kate will join us and it will be even better! We will finally have someone to do the girl voices.”

“Yeah, you are pretty bad at doing the character's voices” I giggle.

“Oh am I?” Anthony asks proceeding to start tickling me.

I start to scream and laugh. I try to squirm away from Anthony but he just grasps me harder. 

“Anthony! I’m S-s-sorry y-you are great at voices” I can barely gasp out in between laughing fits.

“Kate did you hear that I think Y/N said she wants to be tickled more. I think I need your help then because after all two are better than one.”

“Of course, I will help you Anthony if that's what my dear new sister wants” Kate smiles joining the tickling war. 

I can’t stop giggling maybe Kate isn’t that bad.

Support Me Here

[meetmymouth]

the intimacy of little things: II

PART ONE

au ⌕ florist!harry x photographer!ofc

notes for this chapter: mature content, smoking and alcohol consumption, dysfunctional families, a wedding that goes wrong, past child abuse (mentions of burning) right after the two plus signs (++)

WORD COUNT: 32k | PINTEREST BOARD | PLAYLIST 

“Guys–” Harry sighs for the umpteenth time that morning, fingers fumbling with the buttons on the printer. “Which one of you used the printer last? I need another copy of the invoices but nothing’s coming out.”

“It wasn’t me,” Jo’s voice comes from behind him as she walks towards where Harry is standing behind the front desk with a blue folder.

“Well, just– fix it. I need it before I leave.”

“Excuse me, do I look like I have time to fix a printer? Now, get out of my way– this is bleach water and you’re wearing nice clothes today.”

February is just around the corner, and Harry thinks he would be miserable, dreading turning thirty in a few weeks if it weren’t for Taluah. Yes, this very thought might come off as unhealthy, but every day spent with her, she was making sure to leave behind a very permanent mark. It was merely a mark, maybe more like air, he reckons. Yes, an air, fresh– maybe smelling of easy peelers and jasmine, or something very springlike; apple cider or the refreshing smell of watermelon. She was good. She was so good to him, for him.

If he were to describe his previous relationships, ‘a never-ending rollercoaster’ would be an appropriate choice of words. When he left home and started making money and renting, Harry felt content living alone. In his first home–a tiny studio flat above a kebab shop–he couldn’t even fit a double bed let alone another human being to share his space with. He remembers the back pain he’d suffered for months before he could afford a somewhat decent mattress, or the nights where the four walls became so suffocating that he had to spend the night roaming the streets until he was nearly robbed at a knife point.

The thing was, after that storm in the shape of his dad, Harry thought living alone would bring him an incredible amount of joy. And it did, it certainly did in the beginning, but as he grew up, got into a relationship here and there, he found that he preferred waking up to a sweet presence rather than waking up alone. Sure, he enjoyed being alone, the solitude and stillness it brought him, but at the end of the day, he would love to have someone there with him, someone who shared the same views on life, and someone who preferred to be left alone from time to time, just like Harry did; but, just someone, someone he knew was around the corner, under the same roof.

He remembers the days –almost everyday– he woke up to screaming matches, cupboards slamming shut and fists slamming on the table or any surface his dad saw fit at the time. It was painful, to live and exist with him breathing down his neck, judging his every move, and when his mother passed away, Harry recalls an incredible amount of emptiness, as vast as the space itself, consuming him, making it harder to breathe each passing day. It was most improbable, the loss of her, and despite the man being intolerable, awful and an abusive piece of crap even when she was present in their lives, Harry feels as though she was his shelter, someone he looked up to every single day. Perhaps, the void came when Harry realised he would no longer be able to help his mother get away from the trainwreck that was their house –and life–, and look after her just like she did to him and his sister, when she was alive despite the circumstances. He felt guilty… inadequate.

At that very moment, inside his new shelter, a place full of hope and colours he’d never dreamed of seeing again, Harry turns his face to the sun. With the wind shaking the trees outside, it comes as a surprise when the gleaming ball of light remains put, warming up Harry’s face for a moment longer before it puts a tiny, barely there smile on his face and disappears behind a cloud, yet Harry’s cheeks stay warm and his smile is still present before he turns to the voice calling his name.

“Y’all right, mate?”

Harry turns to Finn, taking in his creased apron and wonky glasses sliding off his nose. He looks tired, and sweaty despite the early hours of the morning, and when Harry looks down, it all makes sense considering the dirt on his trousers and the mud under his wellies. He smiles at him first, then his eyes slowly dart back at Finn’s dark green wellies, eyebrows furrowing and he thinks it’s enough for him to read the expression on Harry’s face.

Finn gives him a sheepish smile. “I’ll clean it up, I promise.”

“That’s okay, mate,” Harry touches his pockets, just to check if he’s got his phone. “Are you still okay with covering the workshop for me today?”

“Yes. You can trust me.”

“I do, mate, I do and– thank you. Really.”

“Harry,” Finn calls behind him. “I got what you asked for, it’s in the back– in the kitchen.”

“Oh. I forgot about that,” he scratches the growing stubble before giving him a smile. “Tell Peter I said ‘hi’ and thanks for letting us knick a rose– I know they’re pretty hard to get,” he bites his lip, then fishes his phone out of his pocket to check the time.

“No worries, man. I won’t keep you,” he waves his hand and smiles, both men already walking opposite ways.

Harry meets up with Jeanette –the name, now a new pronoun; Talulah’s mother– at Sibton Park Estate in Suffolk, where the wedding would be held, and as soon as he parks his car, he is filled with all sorts of emotions, varying from excitement to anxiety. He’s excited, thrilled, because it’s work– it’s what he loves the best, adding colour to a couple’s most special day. And he’s also anxious, because, well– this is Jeanette, Talulah’s mother. She’s someone Talulah almost despises, someone who broke beautiful, kind Talulah in so many ways Harry couldn’t even fathom.

Before Talulah, Jeanette was just a client.

But now, Harry thinks, he can’t look at her face without thinking about Talulah when she was younger, broken and unimaginably alone when she decided to leave her behind. Of course, she still is a client, Harry knew how to separate his work from his private life. But as always, when Talulah was the subject in question, Harry’s thoughts– and judgment seemed to become clouded and he wanted nothing more than to put her somewhere so deep and special inside him, to protect and cherish her if she allowed him to.

Walking through the gate, it’s only greens and browns, and the birds tweeting in the sky that welcome Harry. Sibton Park seemed to represent some sort of holism, a representation of organic unity in which a Georgian estate found life in the midst of nature. Harry wonders if it’s always sunny and green in this realm –for some foolish reason, Harry seems to find that word appropriate for this particular location–.

“Harry, you’re here– hi,” comes a chirpy voice from his right.

It’s Jeanette, her auburn hair perfectly styled and blowing in the wind as if each strand have rehearsed that same movement over and over again, and Harry thinks it’s unbelievable how put together and perfect she looks giving the very uncomfortable looking high heels her feet are supporting. She’s got her sunglasses on, a designer tote on her shoulder from what Harry can tell, and she adjusts her blazer while walking towards him without any trouble despite the pebbled path crunching underneath her feet.

“Hi, Jeanette. How are you?”

“I’m great! Wonderful, even. Happy you’re here,” she sends her sunglasses back, and gives him a bright smile, and a tiny, almost-there dimple appears on her upper cheek. “Lewis and I are so grateful– so, so grateful that you’re helping us, Harry. I appreciate it so much,” she nods, but opens her mouth again when she notices Harry looking around. “Lewis will be a bit late. He’s working today– he’ll join us shortly…”

It feels like a question, as if her tongue is twisting and burning with hesitation, but Harry gives her his best smile as he tries to get the image of little Talulah crying out of his head.

“Shall we go in?” He motions at the manor behind them with his head and smiles, his feet working before his brain as they carry him up the stairs with Jeanette following.

Freya, Jeanette’s wedding planner whom Harry spoke on the phone and emailed back and forth so many times, meets them in front of the estate’s beautiful orangery with a bright smile on her wrinkled face. They shake hands, and the short woman introduces them with Jon, who is in charge of the manor, the orangery in particular. The tour lasts for about thirty minutes as Freya talks about what goes where and Harry agrees with most of it.

“So just to confirm,” Harry writes down a few notes for himself and turns to Jeanette and Freya. “White lilies, limonium and cocculus for the tables. Same lilies and salal for your bouquet.”

“I feel like a pop of colour would be nice for your bouquet, Jen,” Freya chimes in, lifting her own head from the notebook in her hand. “What do you think, Harry?”

“Up to you, Jeanette.”

“I wish we could’ve done the wedding in summertime. I would’ve gone for–” Harry notices her eyes sparkling. “I would’ve gone for sunflowers. My– my oldest… loves sunflowers.”

“Niam?”

“No, not Lewis’ son,” Jeanette turns to Freya, a frown appearing on her face. “No, my daughter. Ah,” she ponders for a minute, a minute too long. “Talulah.”

There, Harry thinks. It feels strange, so strange and unfamiliar, almost shameful and overdramatised. He doesn’t like her name in her mouth, he finds himself thinking, it doesn’t suit Jeanette. It feels distant, and deep down, he knows it’s not in the way she said it and perhaps, it’s the grandness the name holds in Harry’s heart. It’s an important name, full of meaning, and whenever Harry says it– or thinks of it, his heart only expands more and more, and his insides grow, filling with an incredible amount of happiness and light. Talulah was all that. Happiness, light, all the good and bright things. But here, in this moment, the name only brings sorrow and shame, at least in Jeanette’s case. It feels that way.

Harry can’t help but swallow once, twice, until the lump in his throat goes away, leaving behind a heavy feeling in his chest.

“That’s nice,” he hears himself saying before he can control his mouth. He feels brave. “How old is she?”

The purse in her lips returns, and her eyes become smaller. The only sound in the grand room is Freya’s keyboard clicking and the bubbles in Jeanette’s drink fizzing away.

“She’s… she’s twenty-six.”

‘Twenty-five!’ Harry wants to chime in. But he leaves it alone. For now.

“She really is your oldest one, isn’t she,” Freya chuckles, eyes still on her phone screen.

“Yeah. Yeah, she is. She’s a bright one. Very smart. Knows what she wants. Gets whatever she wants.”

“She will be here, won’t she,” the other woman chimes in again, her thick accent detectable.

Another pause fills the room, with Harry and Freya both buried in their laptops and iPads. Harry’s fingers work the keyboard like clockwork, but his mind is somewhere else, still hooked on the fat, meaningful pause. He shakes his head and looks at the words he’s been typing, and can’t help but smile in defeat when he realises what he’s been typing has been nothing but nonsense, incorrect letters and mispronounced words.

He looks up at Jeanette, now more assertive waiting for her much anticipated –in his case– response. The lines on her face now seem deeper, more noticeable, especially on her forehead. 

Before the woman can say anything, all three of them turn their heads to their left, where the loud footsteps are being heard. Harry first notices his shoes, Oxfords, and shinier than anything Harry’s ever seen that day. They’re awfully clean, considering the mud outside, then his eyes move upwards, to the tall man’s trousers. They look expensive, sharp, carefully ironed so that each line in the middle of his trousers looks as if they’re straight out of a catalogue. Paired with are a white, crisp shirt and a suit jacket.

“Lewis,” Jeanette basically cheers, her features relaxing now as opposed to her worried expression prior to Lewis’ arrival.

Though it’s relaxed, she recovers quickly, the frown returning as quickly as it disappeared. As the man walks towards them, two phones in hand, Jeanette stands up.

“You’re late,” she quips, but not before she leans in for a kiss. “Hi, honey. Come, I’ll introduce you to Harry.”

It feels weird, unsettling, watching Talulah’s mother kissing a man. It shouldn’t, seeing how they’re adults, taking that step to marry soon, but nevertheless, it still feels off considering what Harry knows about her.

“I know, I’m sorry, darling. Traffic– hi,” he walks towards Harry, ignoring Freya, and Harry figures they’ve met before. “Lewis. Nice to meet you.”

He shakes the hand that’s being offered. “Harry. Nice to meet you as well.”

“Hi, Freya.”

“Hi, nice of you to join us.”

This makes the man shrug, and he lifts his arm in the air as if he’s surrendering. His smile is blinding, teeth pearly-white, and he notices a dimple forming with the smile he’s giving the petite woman. He has broad shoulders, clearly works out, Harry thinks, and when he walks closer to give Freya a hug, he notices a scar on his cheek. He’s handsome, hair perfectly styled, and he can’t help but wonder what his own hair looks like at the moment. Probably greasy, and messy.

“We were just talking about my bouquet.”

“Oh? Nice.”

“And the… ah, the plants– what are they called again, Harry?”

“Foliage.”

“Yes– that. For the tables, honey.”

Lewis quirks an eyebrow. “Tables will have plants?”

“Foliage,” Harry chimes in, voice quiet, and Lewis turns his attention to him. “I’m sure you guys went over all that together but–” he looks down at his notes. “White lilies, limonium and cocculus for the tables. They’re very beautiful– all year around. It’s going to look beautiful but still simple, as per Jeanette’s request.”

“Right,” Lewis nods, and touches Jeanette’s shoulder, rubbing it there before he turns to Harry again. “You know the best. I won’t interfere.”

“Is there anything you would like to add? I’m in touch with both Freya and the lighting crew as you all are, you can trust us, it’s going to be a beautiful wedding.”

“Dreamy!” Jeanette cheers. “Thank you, Harry. Freya. You guys have been the best, getting all this done in such short notice.”

“Not a problem at all, Jeanette.”

Lewis’ phone goes off and he excuses himself, walking away from them to take the call but before he does, Harry can’t help but notice the frown on Jeanette’s face, eyes watching like a hawk as Lewis walks off.

When Harry finally gets back to his car, it’s around four o’clock, and the warmth of his car makes him sigh in content as soon as he closes the door. It doesn’t take him long before he’s taking his phone out of his back pocket, finding Talulah’s contact name, contemplating whether to call or text. His eyes find the clock on the radio once again, and decides a text would suffice for now, knowing she’d be at work still. He doesn’t hesitate as his fingers move swiftly and confidently, and a smile takes over his whole face when her face pops up in his mind, and how good it was the last time they were together.

For Harry, Talulah was like… she was his April. That time around when the weather got warmer and warmer to the point where the only thing people seemed to consume was either Fabs or Calippos. That was exactly it, Harry thought, she tasted like the first ice-cream of the summer, the first beer at your favourite beer garden as the wind blew out your hair, and she was like the cold grass under the April sun, and the shade under a willow tree. Harry found himself smiling whenever he saw sunflowers, remembering the way her eyes gleamed when she noticed the sunflowers outside the shop, or when he got her her own in a pretty bouquet. From there, whenever new sunflowers were delivered from a local farm in Essex, Harry would fill with such joy, the vibrant petals looking as if they were smiling, reminding him of Talulah and her beautiful face.

It doesn’t take Talulah long to get back to Harry. He’s just turning right onto A12 when his phone goes off, signalling a message from Talulah. He knows, because he was so whipped that his ears could pick up her special text tone no matter what. He knows he can’t really look at the text, with his navigation still on, so he waits patiently until he finds the nearest petrol station. When he finally arrives back to London, he finds himself humming along to Delegation’s ‘Heartache No. 9’ drifting from the radio, heart full and feeling all fuzzy inside.

After about twenty minutes that seemed oh-so-long to him, he’s parked in front of her flat, legs shaking and palms sweating as he tries to shake the feeling off, wiping his palms on his trousers while he lets the breeze caress his flushed cheeks. Forgetting about the outside world for a minute, Harry misses Talulah leaving her flat, still trying to fix the collars of her borg jacket, but seems to be struggling with the strap of her bag catching on her hair and the zipper. When she finally makes it to the car, she’s all smiles, eyes twinkling under the soft hue of pinks and oranges from the setting sun somewhere behind the trees.

“Hi,” she chuckles, seemingly noticing Harry staring longer than necessary, but still, her voice is silky, soft, and beautiful. “How are you, did you wait long?”

Harry leans into her touch when she leans forward to kiss him on his cheek, then presses her hand where she kissed him.

“No, not at all. I’m good, how are you? You look lovely.”

“Thank you, I’m good. Wasn’t expecting you to text, thought you said you’d be busy all day.”

“Change of plans,” he smiles. His hand reaches out and brushes the soft flesh of her nose, then her cheekbone, smiling at the way she looks down at her lap, crinkles appearing by her beautiful eyes. “I wanted to see you. Thanks for meeting up with me.”

“Ah,” another smile, but this time, her eyes are focused on him. “I’m glad you texted. Where are we going? I hope I’m not too… dressed up. Or down?”

He turns the key, the car coming back to life. “You look perfect. And, it’s a surprise.”

“No, I hate surprises!”

“Well, too bad, babe. You’ll see. Seatbelt on.”

London evenings in March were no different than January and February– it’s still pretty chilly, and some would argue that the nights in March were even frosty. It wouldn’t matter how cold you felt –even wrapped up in warm layers of clothes and a scarf to match– because the view as soon as you reached Tower Bridge was simply breathtaking. It didn’t matter whether you were a local or were only visiting– it never ceased to amaze people even though most Londoners found it in themselves to hide the very fact. The sunrise, pinks and blues and oranges, the sunsets, big, fluffy clouds peeking out from in between the big chunk of metal as it turned round and round in the air; everything seemed magical in London, even something as simple as a sunset. He didn’t know if London was just a consumerist paradise where everything seemed picture-perfect. For the time being, though, Harry didn’t care about the enchanted fantasy that was London but Talulah.

Talulah in her cosy winter coat and her blinding smile.

The two reach the stairs leading up to the bridge hand in hand, the bridge illuminated by a string of lights and the buildings around them, and Harry finds himself staring at their intertwined hands. Despite the cold and the breeze, her hands were now warm as opposed to Harry’s cold, dry, and calloused hands. For a moment, he feels bad for her, having to hold onto a work-roughened hand, but when he looks up to her smiling face, the worry fades away.

“So,” she says, thumb stroking his skin, but he doesn’t think she’s doing it consciously. “What’s the plan?”

At her question, he remembers the plan, and feels the weight of his backpack. “Night picnic.”

“You’re crazy. It’s freezing!”

“Was that– is that bad? Should’ve thought this through–”

“–No, don’t be silly,” she squeezes his hand. “I fucking love that. I’ve never had a night picnic.”

“Really?” Harry asks with eyebrows raised. They’re now standing right where the Jubilee Gardens is sat on a large, very large land.

“Why is that surprising?”

“I don’t know, you just seem the type to like spontaneous, quirky shit.”

“Oh, shut up,” she says, but the smile never leaves her face.

“I’m just teasing.”

“What are we eating, what’d you bring? Should’ve told me, I���d bring us some food… I could’ve baked us cupcakes… people always say that, right? I actually don’t know how to make cupcakes.”

“So sweet, aren’t you,” he mumbles, and places his hand on the back of her neck, bringing her into a sweet kiss. It’s short, but it’s the sweetest. “It’s okay. I… I didn’t bring much,” the well-mowed grass swishes underneath their feet as they walk further into the park. “Nothing fancy. Popped down to Tesco, got wine and a cheese platter too.”

“Happy days,” she looks around before turning back to him. “Thanks for this, you’re a dream.”

“Taste the cheap Tesco cheese first before you put a ring on my finger. Come on, I even brought a blanket. Just let me know if you’re too cold and we’ll leave.”

With a nod, she once again reaches for his hand as they both stare into the large expanse of damp grass, eyes searching for a decent enough spot for the both of them to perch on. There’s not many people on the grass, only a group of friends laughing as they chat, cheap plastic champagne glasses in their hands. Harry guides them to a spot he’s got his eyes on, and he reaches for his backpack. It’s packed full, so full that the zipper looks all wonky when closed, and as soon as the bag is fully open, the contents of it spill, nearly falling to the grass by Talulah’s feet. He recovers quickly, and she helps take everything out one by one carefully.

There’s a decent-sized blanket, food, and a glass of red accompanied by two red party cups. He lays the navy blanket on the grass, hoping there aren’t any rocks, and extends his hand for Talulah to hold as she kneels down, then tries to find a comfortable position on the blanket. It’s when she finally lets out a satisfied hum that Harry finds the opportunity to take a look at what she’s wearing.

Of course, Harry knows he complimented her when she first got in the car, because yes, she looked lovely. Perfect, even. But he didn’t need to see her clothes to compliment her. And yes, that sounds extremely cliche, lame even, but Harry thought Talulah would look good in whatever she was wearing. First, she had the most beautiful smile, and the most gorgeous face that lit up whenever she smiled and laughed, which made Harry swoon. That was all it took for Harry to think she looked good. Just her smile, her adorable laugh, and her soul, warm, friendly, these were all the things that made her pretty.

As he sits down, trying to find a comfortable spot for his arse, he notices her jeans, pink with hearts embroidered in every inch of the fabric. He thinks it’s the perfect choice for someone as lovely as Talulah. He’s glad she’s got a thick, cosy jumper underneath her coat so hopefully, he thinks, she wasn’t going to get too cold.

“Ooh,” she hums, bringing Harry back from his thoughts, and she reaches for the plastic package laid on the blanket. “Is this bacon sarnie?”

“I got two of each, bacon and… chicken and mayo.”

“I’m eating this one. Hey,” her delicate fingers, adorned with rings work the plastic as she speaks. “You got meal deal? I hope you got Pom Bears.”

“So you like Pom Bears,” Harry’s lips turn upwards into a knowing smile. “Noted. Though… I didn’t get Pom Bears, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Here, let me open yours.”

He watches as she opens it, fingers tearing apart the material as if she’s trying to be as gentle as she can while trying to save the bread from the awful object. She opens it at last, and she looks up at him with a beaming smile as if to say, I did it, I did it for you, and Harry looks down at his knees, trying not to turn into a puddle of love-sauce, eyes teary and face a grinning mess because, how could he not– she was perfect. Under the dim lights of London and the sweet breeze, she was nothing but a perfect companion for Harry.

She hands her his now-open sandwich with a smile, and he takes it from her, thumb stroking her skin briefly before he retracts his hand, bringing the sandwich up to his mouth.

He takes a bite, then meets her gaze. “How’s your day been,” he asks after a beat, foregoing the obvious statement he was about to make; telling Talulah about his day which of course included none other than her mother.

“It was all right.”

“Work all right?”

“Yeah,” she takes a moment to swallow, then gives him a smile. “Same old. Hey– how’s Bo?” The smile only gets wider as soon as she asks about Bo.

Harry smiles at her enthusiasm and watches her wipe the corners of her mouth with her napkin that he’d hand her moments ago.

“He’s great. Probably on the sofa, enjoying his freedom.”

“Do you think he’s hungry? What time do you usually feed him?” She frets with a crease between her eyebrows.

“He’s grand, don’t worry. I’ll feed him as soon as I get back…” he reaches for the plastic cups. “Wine?”

She nods, and extends the cup. He ends up filling half the cup, the size considered, and they take a tiny sip at the same time while the gentle wind blows, occasionally entering through their thick layers of clothing and making them shiver briefly before it’s gone. It’s silent, except for the other group chit-chatting quietly, and Harry thinks this is one of the best nights he’s ever had in a long, long time. It wasn’t uncomfortable, the silence. Quite the opposite really.

Harry realised how much Talulah appreciated the quiet hum of their movements and the silence around them as opposed to when they actually talked. Don’t get him wrong, he knew Talulah liked talking, she liked talking to and with Harry and it was wonderful when you mentioned something she was extremely passionate about: he noticed when he did, her lips would part, and eyes would get bigger. There appeared crinkles by her eyes briefly before she began talking about whatever it was that made her this awe-struck and excited. She was expressive; she loved using her hands while talking, Harry realised. But when the subject was one that interested and inspired her a great amount, he noticed the hand movements significantly increasing as she waved them around and let out a giggle here and there whilst talking. It was amazing, and heartwarming.

But silence.

She seemed to treasure it when it fell upon them, which was exactly what she was doing at this moment.

“What’s on your mind,” Harry drawls before bringing the cup back to his lips.

Talulah doesn’t look startled when his voice pierce through the silence. Instead, she lets her mouth turn upwards into a lazy smile, her cup pressed against the corner of her lips as her other hand holds onto her food. For a while, she doesn’t speak. She just watches the green grass just exist under their bodies. Before she speaks, she takes a moment to sniff once, then takes a big gulp of her wine which makes her wince a little at the sour taste.

“Jeanette,” she breathes out. “Do I go to the wedding, or do I just ignore the whole thing like I always do?”

Harry thinks the question isn’t necessarily directed at him; it sort of sounds like a question Talulah is asking to herself. Thus, he doesn’t jump to answer it and instead, he watches her for a while as her gaze, once again, is focused on the grass.

“Do you want to go?”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. I mean, even if I wanted to go, I wouldn’t want to go because I wanted to go.”

“I,” Harry starts, but can’t go on before a laugh escapes his mouth. It’s loud, and he’s certain that a few heads turn their way, though he can’t seem to give a fuck considering the smirk on Talulah’s beautiful face.

“Okay,” she laughs along with him. “I know that was weird–”

“No… no– is it weird that I know exactly what you meant by that?”

“Well, yeah, a little but– you really know what I mean? Like,” she clears her throat, the half-eaten sandwich long forgotten by her feet. “Even if I did go, it would be just to… just to have closure, kind of. Or maybe ruin her wedding day, I don’t know, I’ve yet to decide.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not worth it.”

“Well, I don’t care. Plus, I would get to dress up, right?”

Harry recognises the tone. He does, because it’s the exact same tone his sister used to use when she wanted to change the subject. So, he lets her. And goes along.

“What would you wear,” he entertains the idea. He smiles when she smiles at the question, clearly feeling grateful.

“I don’t know really, but something extravagant. Something she would probably hate. Something… orange?”

He chuckles, and looks down for a moment. “Orange?”

“Orange,” Talulah confirms with a shrug. “I feel like that’s a colour not everybody likes. She hated it, though, she might like it now that she has a new life.”

They sit in silence for a minute, both of their half-eaten sandwiches now discarded on the ground, in the middle of their bodies. He chuckles, more to himself, and she looks at him with raised eyebrows, though a grin follows close behind.

“What?”

“She doesn’t like orange.”

Talulah’s brows furrow, lips becoming a thin line. “How d’you know?” She asks, clearly protective and weirded out.

“You know how I’m working with her… she created a Google Doc for us of colours and flowers, fabrics she didn’t like. For the wedding…”

“That sounds like her.”

He takes a deep breath, then extends his arm so he can touch her cheek with his free hand. He strokes her cold, but soft cheek, smiling when she leans into the warmth of his touch.

“You would look absolutely breathtaking in orange.”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“I hate when you use that– that voice and compliment me!”

“Why,” he’s laughing now, and he pinches her ear playfully before retracting his hand. “I like seeing you all hot and bothered. Get shy on me at the smallest compliment… so sweet.”

“You’re doing it again!”

It’s another thirty minutes when Harry mumbles quietly, ‘come back to mine’, and they walk to his car, bellies full not only with food but also butterflies, and Harry feels the imaginary weight of the framed rose in his bag. Despite the nerves, he keeps walking, hand in hers while the other is gripping the empty wine bottle in his hand. It’s silly, how he’s carrying it around instead of stuffing it inside his backpack, but he doesn’t want to stop walking with her hand in his, and wants to keep walking as much as they can before they finally stop and their hands break apart. When they reach his car at the car park near Waterloo Station, they stop and Talulah watches Harry stuff the bottle into his bag, careful not to break the glass of the photo frame. Once in the car, they both can’t help but smile at nothing in particular.

Harry finally pulls the car out of the car park, both their cheeks hot with both bliss and the sudden warmth that comes as a surprise when they enter the car. For a while, neither of them speak, and from the corner of his eye, Harry sees Talulah reach for the radio. It comes on, and Harry has to hold himself back from singing along to the advertisement. Feared by the bad, loved by the good, Robot Hood. He doesn’t though and instead, takes a deep breath while waiting for a song to come on.

“I love this song,” Talulah’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “Is it okay that I turned the radio on?” She stops swaying gently in her seat and looks at him, even though he can’t turn his head her way.

He smiles. “Of course it is,” he pays attention to the song, but he doesn’t recall ever hearing it.

For a brief moment, he catches the text on the screen of the radio, only making out ‘Something Good Can Work by Young–’.

“Thanks for tonight,” Talulah turns the volume down a little. “No one’s really done anything like that for me before, it was very sweet.”

She places her hand on his thigh, and Harry feels his skin burn despite the layer in between. It’s sweet, her touch, and it sends chills down his spine that travel all the way to his tummy. He smiles, because of course he does, and places his free hand on hers on his thigh.

It’s ridiculous, he thinks, how Talulah thinks this is something big, something so important, what Harry did tonight. It was the least he could do, really. How could anyone not cherish and spoil someone as sweet and precious as her? It’s bizarre, and as foolish as it sounds, it annoys him.

He squeezes her hand, and turns his whole face to her when they conveniently stop at a red light.

“You deserve it. You deserve picnics, and you deserve everything good and beautiful, Talulah. You really don’t have to thank me,” he insists when he senses an objection coming. “You do. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Well,” her thumb strokes the back of Harry’s warm hand. “Thank you, anyway. It was really sweet, and I loved it.”

“I love spending time with you.”

“I do too… you’re just– something else,” she looks down, a breathless chuckle escaping her mouth.

It makes him smile, because all he seems to do whenever she is near, seems to smile and giggle like a lunatic. Like, someone who is–

Harry doesn’t know how to carry on that particular stream of consciousness, so he brings the hand up to his lips and presses a long kiss there. Her hands smell like grass, and leftover perfume. Something spicy, yet relaxing, and he can’t help but press another peck, making her sigh, and hold onto her seatbelt tighter.

When they arrive at his, Harry has to park a few cars down from where the entrance door is, and has to stop himself from cursing out loud at whoever decided to park in his space. The fog is beginning to show itself, and he watches with squinted eyes as Talulah wraps her arms around herself in hopes of protecting herself from the sharp, cold air. She waits for him to catch up to her as they walk to the entrance, and when they’re side by side, she reaches and interlocks their fingers despite the short distance they’re about to make. It makes him smile regardless, and they look at each other with beaming smiles before Harry uses his fob to open the main door, hand still in hers as he ushers her inside the building.

“So glad there’s a lift,” Harry hears her mumble when he presses the button, and it’s so cute that he wants to reach and pull her into a mouth-bruising kiss.

Once inside the lift, Harry realises how long it actually has been since he last kissed her properly save for a few pecks here and there. Too bloody long. He thinks it would be too pathetic if he just grabbed her right then and there, and pressed their lips together as the lift took them up. It would be worth it, well worth it, seeing how cosy she looks in her big coat and hair a little disheveled from the ruthless wind. He would have to wait.

When the robotic voice announces his floor, they get out, still hand in hand, and Harry guides her through another door before they’re finally in front of his door. As the key turns, he can already hear Bo’s breathing on the other side of the door, and he knows he’s probably sat there, tail wagging, waiting for Harry to enter and give him a cuddle. And he’s right. Because as soon as the door unlocks, they’re met with Bo, a ball in his mouth as he sits proudly, but eyes so big and telling that Harry knows he’s hungry.

“Oh my god– hi, Bo,” much to his dismay, Talulah lets go of his hand, already on one knee as she pets the Labrador.

“Great, once again, my dog steals my thunder.”

“Oh shush… hi darling, hi!” she keeps stroking the matte fur of the dog, then scratches his head as if giving him a massage.

Of course, Bo looks absolutely smitten and in love, which, Harry thinks, is no surprise.

He smiles at the sight, because it looks so natural. As if Talulah fits in with the flat, and Bo, and ultimately, Harry’s life. She looks like she belongs there, as if it’s an ordinary thing for them, coming from outside and finding their dog waiting for them. And Harry thinks he wouldn’t mind having her here whenever she liked. He would certainly love that, he thinks.

He walks closer to them and strokes the exposed skin of her neck, making her gasp at the sudden touch. She’s ticklish, Harry notes.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he moves his hand to her shoulder. “May I take your coat? Would you like a cuppa?”

“Oh,” Talulah gets up on her feet, and gives him an appreciative smile, letting him take her coat and bag. “Thank you and– yes, please.”

“Of course, darling. Come on, Bo. Dinner time, mate.”

They walk to the living room, Bo already catching up to them with tongue hanging out of his mouth, clearly excited at the mention of dinner.

“He must be so hungry, poor lovey.”

“Do you want to give him his food?” Harry asks.

“You sure?”

“Of course! If you want to, that is.”

“I would love to.”

Harry nods, guiding her towards his kitchen as he opens one of the cupboards and takes out a large bag of dog food. Talulah watches as he measures the smelly food with a cup and hands it to her with a smile.

“His bowl is right there,” he points to the porcelain bowl by the kitchen table, earning a nod from her, and he watches with arms crossed as she calls for Bo to follow her.

He doesn’t need to be told, though, seeing how he was so alert as soon as he saw Harry open the familiar cabinet and take out the measuring cup. He still watches with a smile as Talulah pours the food into his bowl, and sing-songs ‘Bon appétit’ which makes him bite his bottom lip because could she get any more precious than that?

“Did you just say ‘bon appétit’ to a dog?” he quips, but the smile never leaves his face.

“What,” Talulah shrugs, already standing in front of him by the oven. “You don’t?”

“Not really… should I?”

“‘Course you bloody should.”

He finds himself erupting into a laugh, the laugh leaving behind a soft smile as he tries to locate the teabags.

“You’re a very weird girl, Talulah.”

“Thanks. Look who’s making tea for that weirdo, though, eh?”

“I suppose it’s the least I could do, hm?”

As soon as the teabags are placed in their mugs, Harry takes a step closer into Talulah’s space, and his hands find her waist, pulling her into him. He squeezes there, eyes locked in hers, looking for an answer to his silent question. It’s her who pulls him in by the neck, fingers tickling the skin there, making goosebumps appear on his skin, and she finally presses their lips together like they have been hungry for each other for centuries. It’s as if they haven’t been touched in years, lips moving in harmony as if they’re citing a heartfelt poem. Instead of words leaving their mouth, it’s silent pleas and pleased sighs, mixing in together with saliva and the beat of their hearts.

She’s holding onto him for dear life, hands travelling every direction, from his neck to his chest, and he pulls her into him even closer, pressing their fronts together as he parts his mouth and lets her take whatever she wants. What she wants, it seems, is to invade Harry’s mouth, and his tongue, and she does so by slipping her tongue into his mouth. If Harry wasn’t too far gone, he would have a laugh at the way their hums and wet noises are accompanied by Bo’s chewing at their feet. 

Instead, he refuses to acknowledge anything but her and the sweet, velvety sounds she’s making while they kiss. He lets her have her way, wrapping her warm, wet mouth around Harry’s tongue as she sucks on it before Harry places his hand on the back of her neck, pressing their mouths closer and it doesn’t make much difference, given the distance between them.

Though, as Harry brings his kisses down to her neck, kissing and grazing his teeth across her pulse, right below her ear where he knows she’s sensitive, Talulah decides to pull away, hand coming up to his chest as if to distance themselves. A gargled, throaty groan leaves his mouth, clearly frustrated considering the tingly feeling at the tip of his cock, and he stops his kisses.

He looks at her, her shy gaze focused on their feet, and presses his thumb on the corner of her mouth, wiping off the remnants of their kiss.

“Sorry,” he decides to say, voice coming out quiet and croaky as if he doesn’t want to startle her. “Sorry. Got way ahead of myself there, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay,” hands find the side of his neck, stroking the now-flushed skin of his with her thumb before she gives her a lopsided smile. “I did, too… oh! Tea.”

Harry follows her gaze, and finds the kettle, the steam now going up and up until it reaches the ceiling, then disappears downwards almost like a volcanic eruption.

“I’ll pour the water– can you get the milk?” Harry points at the fridge with a smile. He tries to ignore the ache in his pants.

Talulah reaches for the milk that was hiding behind a large tub of greek yoghurt, and opens the lid. Despite knowing how Harry takes his tea by now, Harry can sympathise seeing how big of a responsibility it seems to get someone’s tea preferences right. As he watches her pour the milk with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, he smiles, and Talulah’s eyes find his as if to ask if she’s doing it right. It doesn’t last long of course, her pouring the milk, seeing how Harry likes only a dash of milk. But still, she’s doing it with such concentration that it makes him bite his lip so he doesn’t let out a delighted chuckle.

They pass Bo with mugs in their hands, the dog never once lifting his head from his water bowl, and Harry tells Talulah to sit wherever she wants. It sounds funny, he realises, after it leaves his mouth because there is only so much space she can choose to sit. As he tries to find the second coaster for his tea, Talulah takes a seat on the far left of Harry’s soft, white sofa, knowing full well he would join her on the other end of it. It reminds him so much of the day he visited her in her home, and the way her lips looked wrapped around a blunt. When he recalls the events that followed, Talulah on her knees, Talulah’s hands all over him… he feels his cheeks flush and a tiny, barely-there smile paints his features. He seems to be caught red handed when his gaze catches hers, and the smile on his lips seem to get wider and prouder.

“What? Why do you look so smug for?” A giggle leaves her mouth, eyes travelling across his face as she does so, and he locks their gaze for a moment, not wanting to take his eyes off of her.

“Nothing– nothing at all.”

“Now, that’s bullshit.”

Harry smiles. “It’s really nothing. Just remembered something, ‘s all,” his gaze wanders to Bo for a moment when he enters the living room, and goes straight to his bed by the window. “The time when�� we were at your place.”

She smiles, clearly recalling the events. She doesn’t say anything for a while, and Harry feels anxious that he’s gone and cocked it up, and made her angry by bringing it up. Perhaps, he finds himself thinking, she didn’t want to remember the time they were so close, so intimate. Maybe Harry was making a big deal out of it and maybe, Talulah didn’t like Harry as much as he did her. But, that would be mental, surely, considering the way she pressed their mouths together just a moment ago, and the date they had near the Eye… it surely wasn’t nothing to her. Harry surely wasn’t just a random guy for Talulah.

Then, Harry senses her blush. He does, because she looks down with a tight-lipped smile, then it turns into her biting her bottom lip just like she seemed to do when she was deep in thought.

She hums in agreement. “I remember,” she says, eyes still on her lap. “Yeah. And…” after the mug finds its place on the coffee table, she locks her gaze with Harrys, a grin appearing on her face. “I feel like you owe me something.”

“I do, don’t I…”

“Mhm,” Talulah wrinkles her nose in an adorable manner.

Neither of them make a move, and Harry drops his gaze to Talulah’s lap. The smile never leaves his face though, and it’s good to see Talulah smiling as well. He doesn’t want to initiate anything. But, Talulah doesn't seem to share that thought when she begins scooting over to where Harry is sitting. He can see the sweat glistening her forehead and her chest keeps rising up and down, as if she’s harbouring a bird in there, and that bird is now trying to break free and fly away.

Harry finally makes a move, and places one hand on her neck, stroking the delicate skin there as Talulah tilts her head, leaning into his touch. He brings her closer by the neck, the movement harsher than his previous ones, and he feels himself sigh when she gives in to the touch so willingly; head tilted, mouth parted and eyes closed. So, of course, it doesn’t come as a surprise when she ever so gently licks the calloused skin when she feels Harry’s thumb pressing down on her bottom lip. It’s a hesitant lick, like she’s tasting the waters, so Harry presses harder to let her know.

She gets the memo, she does because she takes his thumb into her mouth so willingly and in such fervour, teeth grazing the skin as she sucks on it briefly, eyes never leaving his while she does so. Harry can’t help but blink slowly, mouth parted just like hers was a moment ago, and watches as she devours his finger like it’s her last meal. It shouldn’t be this hot and arousing, someone sucking on your finger, but God, the feeling of her warm mouth around his finger, the skin getting pulled with her sucking which immediately sends shivers down his spine and the tingly sensation is back in his stomach, later travelling to the tip of his cock as he feels himself twitch in his underwear.

“Fuck, baby” is all he can muster out, and as soon as he finishes his sentence, the pet name makes her perk up, and Harry doesn’t know if it’s possible for her pupils to grow any larger than they already were.

She looks ethereal, is all Harry can think of. It’s almost as if they’ve switched the roles, and Harry is now behind the lens, capturing such beauty, feeling enraptured at the fact that he’s now in a moment where he can enjoy her to the fullest, just like Talulah had mentioned on their first date while talking about why she loved being a photographer. It’s silly, how he can think back to such pure moments while she’s here, right in front of her, looking all obscene with her mouth wrapped around his finger. At that, he closes his eyes for a moment and his lips turn upwards in a grin, completely fine with the fact that she’s the one who’s got him wrapped around her finger.

She pulls away from his fingers for a minute, just so she can look him up and down, taking in Harry’s enlarged pupils and sweaty face, with his stance weak as he watches her with eyes unblinking. He catches as the corners of her mouth lift in a smirk, eyes full of mischief, and she finally brings him closer by his neck, pressing their lips together in a bruising, filthy kiss. It’s wet and with every breath, their chests rise and touch each other softly before she moans into his mouth, then bites his bottom lip, sucking on it before she pulls apart without even letting Harry have any say.

With fiery eyes and shaking hands, Harry whispers. “No, come back,” he says, eyes squinted and forehead chasing hers, but she doesn’t.

“I need something,” she whispers back, and lets him press their sweaty foreheads together.

Her breath hitches when Harry places his hands on her waist underneath her top, and brings them up until he reaches the side of her boob. He can feel the shape of it, and it makes his mouth water at the thought of feeling her hard nipples grazing against his skin, his hands, and he finds himself fantasising about them in his mouth as he licks them and bites them, and finds himself groaning at the image in his head, her boobs painted with reds and pinks, marked and bruised, just the way he knew she would like.

“Harry,” she repeats herself when he doesn’t answer her. “I need you to touch me– please, I need it. So bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, please.”

Harry clears his throat, hoping to get rid of the grogginess, and places a hand around her neck. He doesn’t make any effort to tighten his hold, only strokes where he knows the vein is with his thumb before he leans in, and presses a gentle kiss on her forehead. The sweat burns his lips, then tongue, but he doesn’t mind it. He would never. He looks up at her, and smiles because she is too, her eyes basically shining and she finds herself leaning into his touch.

“Come here, sweet girl,” he decides to take her hand, knowing her patience is wearing thin. “Bedroom.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees her stumble over her own feet but she recovers quickly, and grabs the offered hand before following him to the bedroom. It’s small, the flat, so luckily, they reach his room in no time as Harry guides her to the bed, and gets on his knees before her without bothering to close the door. It takes her a few seconds before she’s comfortable on the bed, and Harry watches as she sits up on her elbows, eyebrows raised as she waits for him to do something. She’s wearing too many layers, Harry finds himself thinking, but one look at her parted mouth and fiery gaze watching him, he decides to place his hands on her hips and help her get out of her jeans.

Her baby pink underwear comes into his view, and he wants nothing more than to just rip it off of her body, and devour her right then and there. With his heart in his mouth, he leans forward and presses his lips to where her skin meets the side of her underwear, and leaves a gentle kiss before he looks up at her. When he’s satisfied with the fact that she’s watching his every move without even blinking, he presses another kiss to her soft skin, humming at the lovely smell of her body wash and a smell that is so Talulah. 

He can’t get enough of her, so he allows himself to part his mouth and graze the area with his teeth, then sinks into the flesh, earning a throaty moan from her. At the sound, Harry feels his cock twitch and pulse in his underwear, and he needs to rid himself of the restraints of his clothes as soon as possible so he doesn’t cum as soon as something as faint as a moan leaves Talulah’s mouth.

“Harry,” she says, and Harry can see her struggling to hold herself up any longer with the added pressure of his hot breath hitting her skin. “I need you, please.”

“Yeah? You’re wet?”

She doesn’t answer though, and instead, she thrusts her hips so that Harry can linger his gaze on her clothed pussy. He notices a darker spot in the middle, in such perfect hue with the light pink colour, and it makes him crazy, knowing how wet and needy she is under the fabric.

He groans, forehead resting on her inner thigh before he moves up and up, until he can practically smell her; not exactly sweet, a smell so comforting and Talulah, mixed with sweat but intoxicating nevertheless. It’s hot, the sight of her wetness coating the fabric, so it’s not exactly surprising when he leans forward and gets his mouth on the material, teeth grazing her pussy ever so softly over her underwear and she finally breaks, a startling moan leaving her mouth as she thrusts into his mouth. Without wasting any longer, he begins sliding down her underwear and she tries to help to the best of her ability, and as soon as the tiny underwear is on the floor, Harry launches forward to get his mouth on her.

He can see a bit of her wetness coating between the lips of her cunt, and it’s such a filthy sight that he feels a painful tingle at the tip of his cock, begging to be touched. Though, before he can even think of pressing down at his cock, or even unzipping his trousers, Talulah’s hand finds his hair and pulls harshly. He hisses, knowing there’s no time for him to do anything but get his mouth on her. Her skin is warm against his mouth, and he allows his tongue to lick around the skin, before he remembers to use his fingers to part her cunt and finally get his mouth on where she needs him the most.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he can’t help but mutter into her wetness, tongue darting out to lick the slippery mess she made.

“Just, please– fuck…”

“You made a mess, baby,” he blows on her cunt, and she whines at the unexpected feeling.

He licks her cunt like it’s his last meal, devouring her salty skin, and he opens his mouth wider, sucking on the lips of her cunt before he sinks his teeth in, grazing the area while she keeps writhing under his touch. Harry can feel her wetness coating his chin and all over his mouth, and the thought of her making such a filthy mess of his mouth makes him lose it all, and he flattens his tongue on her cunt, hand finding its place on her belly as he starts moving his head, hoping she takes the hint and finally moves to the rhythm Harry has created. She gets it, of course she does, and starts moving her hips, helping Harry fuck into her cunt better with his tongue.

His small bedroom fills with profanities and filthy sounds that they’re both making, and Harry’s tongue begins to feel worn out at the friction, but he never once dares to stop his licks because he knows it’s all about her, and he wants to give her everything.

After a moment though, her hips stop moving and she retracts her hand from his hair, leaving him confused and frustrated in return.

“What– are you okay?”

“I am… I just– I need more.”

At that, Harry feels like someone’s just ripped his heart out, and stepped on it numerous times before it stopped beating. He can’t help but frown, gaze focusing on a stain on the carpeted floor because he doesn’t think he can make eye contact with her. The pain in his cock, one that he loves feeling, disappears, and he can feel himself get softer and softer as the seconds pass, thinking he’s done something– something bad or… worse; he’s been doing a shit job at making her feel good.

Talulah’s hand on his shoulder interrupts the cursed thoughts running through his head, and he dares to look up, finding her looking at him with sweaty face, disheveled hair and chest rising up and down as if she’s been running a marathon.

“Hey,” her hand presses on his cheek, and he leans into the touch. It’s warm, a bit sweaty. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I swear. You’re so good… so good, Harry.”

The words, as if wrapped in silk and honey, reach his ears first, then his cock, and he practically preens under the complement.

“Can you– can we take these off?” She strokes the side of his neck, then touches his shoulder softly. “Then, you lay on the bed… I want to try something, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah… yes. Anything you want.”

He stands up with her, and lets her take his top off, along with his trousers. They pool around his ankles, along with his briefs, and he can’t help the hiss that leaves his mouth as soon as he feels the air on his cock. It hurts, just like it did before, and he looks down at it pathetically, waiting for her to just do something. He’s selfish, he knows, but he would love it if she took him in her hand and gave it a good stroke before she opened that beautiful mouth of hers to take him in her warm mouth, and sucked until Harry was a moaning mess, spurting thick stripes into her mouth. 

But he waits. He waits for her to take his hand, and guides him to the bed, lets him sit before she motions at him to lay down. He’s not entirely lost, knows where this is going, so he can’t help but look down at his lap again, at his nearly-leaking cock before he presses his palm against himself, trying to take the edge off as pathetic as it sounds.

“You good with that?” She asks, and he wants to shout, you’re not even telling me what you want! Though, he only nods, and watches her smile briefly because concentration washes over her features, and she goes to straddle his hips.

He sends his head back with a groan at the contact of her wet ass cheeks with his hard cock, and he senses her relax, trying hard not to touch him any more because if she did, he would explode. But, she seems to have changed her mind when she moves her hips back and forth once, very slowly, and it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad that he has to grab her hips with a bruising hold, and she looks down at him, lips wet and bitten, trapped between her teeth.

“You’re so pretty,” she whispers, and strokes his chin, then travels her fingers to his nipple. “So, so pretty, I don’t know how you’re real,” the pad of her finger circles the brown nipple that is now hardening under her touch, and she grins when Harry grits his teeth, clearly enjoying the attention on his nipples. “I want to make a mess on your face. Can you– please, can I?”

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum…”

“Hey,” without hesitation, she slaps his chest, and it takes only a second for goosebumps to appear on his skin. “No. You’re gonna make me cum first, aren’t you? It’s my turn… stop being so greedy,” beautiful fingers tweak one of his nipples, smiling at the reaction before she goes and pinches it, hard, and watches as it gets harder and darker.

“Fuck. Yes– yeah, okay– okay, just– please, come up here.”

She nods briefly, though Harry thinks it’s more to herself than anything, and she begins her body up. With each movement, he can feel her wetness leaving tiny and barely-there trails on his body, belly, chest, and with Harry almost panting now due to adrenaline, she finally reaches his face and straddles it, her cunt now covering his mouth and nose much to Harry’s satisfaction. It’s like she’s everywhere, and she really is, at least her pussy, and Harry feels his cock twitch up, and he knows precum is already oozing from the little slit. His hands, now shaking, find her hips and adjust her lower body so she’s completely pressed down on his face, his mouth already parted as he mouths at the little hairs there, wanting to taste her more because he just didn’t get to do that properly before.

She moves a little, cunt stroking against the stubble and his mouth, and a melodious moan escapes her mouth.

“I’m gonna,” she mutters, and Harry sees her eyes close, clearly as frustrated as Harry. “Make me feel good, please,” a whisper reaches his ears, and he knows she’s not directly talking to him.

It’s exactly what she wants, and it’s so hot how she’s so far gone and wet that she’s willing to tell him what exactly it is that she’s expecting from him. He doesn’t want to disappoint, so with fingers bruising her hips, he begins licking her cunt, getting his tongue in there so he can find her clit where he knows she needs him the most. It’s so hot, having her overpower him at this moment, and Harry goes in to suck the slippery skin into his mouth as much as he can and her hips buck up in surprise. As he sucks and licks her wetness into his mouth, she begins sliding up and down his mouth, using him like a toy to fuck herself, clearly wanting more and more with each passing minute and he thinks he’s about to pass out.

“Go on,” he manages to say, words coming out muffled. “Fuck yourself on my tongue. Get what you want.”

And she does. Oh, she does.

Harry feels the blood rush to his cock every time he hears her moan and thrust her hips faster, and with eyes closed and mouth wide open, he lets her move up and down. He can feel her warmth on his tongue, and a beautiful pain shoots through his body when he feels the soft nub of her clit against his tongue, and from there, her movements increase and they become more erratic. She’s a sight. She’s so beautiful and fucked out of her mind it makes Harry whine, and he finally retracts one hand from her meaty hips and finds his needy, leaking cock. He can’t help but moan into her cunt when he feels just how hard and hot his skin is, veins feeling like they’re ready to pop any minute now.

He can’t exactly reach for the lube or his mouth, so he makes do with fondling with his balls, a pathetic excuse of a groan leaving his mouth at the touch. He’s sensitive, and if he keeps touching himself, he’s going to finish. But he can’t seem to care. So, he keeps squeezing his balls, then drags one finger up to the leaking tip before he smears the precum all over his slippery tip, then begins thumbing at it, squeezing gently as he strokes his tip.

He takes his mouth off of her for a second, and murmurs something about being almost there which she responds similarly, hips never stopping their movement as she keeps fucking his tongue like her life is depending on it. It happens too fast, and he knows Talulah is feeling the knotting in her stomach too from the way her upper torso seems to lean forward in an attempt to hold something together. Harry thinks it’s to hold the feeling in, not wanting this to end, and he can sympathise, as he cums, the thick, white stripes of cum paints a crude, messy picture on his stomach and he’s almost certain that some of it manages to land on the lower part of her ass.

They’re quiet except for their quickened breaths filling the room, chests rising up and down frantically as they try to come down, and come to their senses. His thumb stroking her back and waist, Harry helps her move lower until she’s sitting on his chest, eyes almost shut, her face an embodiment of bliss and ecstasy.

“You good,” he whispers, and tries to make eye contact.

She finds his gaze, and a tired smile appears on her face. She just hums, and her hand finds his on her waist, thumb stroking the back of Harry’s hand while her other hand wipes the sweat off of her face, then neck.

“D’ya want to clean up? I’ll bring you some towels and you can also take a shower?”

She knits her eyebrows, and bites her lip. “I’ll be fine… though, I wouldn’t say no to a towel.”

“Of course, love. You good to stand up?”

“Yeah,” she begins working her legs, and sits in the middle of the bed, waiting for him to bring her a towel.

She’s still very much naked, and Harry can’t help but let his eyes wander for a second before he leans forward, without even thinking, and he presses his lips to her damp forehead, then the corner of her mouth, smiling so wide when he hears her sigh.

It smells awfully like vanilla and canned peaches in the room, accompanied by a continuous snoring coming from the living room. Steam is coming out of the freshly made tea sat on Harry’s bedside table, disappearing after a second, leaving behind a lovely smell. With a lazy smile on his face, Harry turns to his side, finding Talulah, back pressed against fluffy pillows, now dressed in only her jumper while the bottom half is still naked except for her underwear and a yellow throw blanket covering her feet.

She cracks her knuckles and turns to Harry, copying the smile on his face before she reaches for the mug on her side carefully, and takes a big gulp. Even though the bedroom is dark, except for the floor lamp in the corner, Harry can make out a tiny, barely-there frown, and he fills with worry despite the fits of laughter and a packet of bourbon biscuits they shared half an hour ago.

He watches as she takes another sip, then places her mug back on the bedside table, hands reaching for Harry’s. She grabs it, and turns to him, lips turned upwards in a smile where a frown painted them a moment ago, and she offers it to him. It’s sweet, and it makes his insides hurt in the best way possible.

He grins, and lets the hot beverage warm him up. “Ta,” it comes out quiet, and muffled with the way the brim of the mug is pressed to his bottom lip. He takes a big gulp, just like her, and sighs as the warm drink leaves him cosy, and satisfied. “I’ll make us some food,” he says, and begins straightening up in bed, extra careful not to spill his tea, but is stopped by Talulah.

“You don’t have to, I’ll go anyway.”

“What? No,” he finds his phone under one of the pillows, and taps the screen a few times until it lights up. “It’s nearly dinner time. I’m cooking something for us.”

“Harry, you really don’t have to. We can order takeaway.”

“I’ll cook, it’s fine,” he chuckles at her puzzled expression. “I know how to cook, don’t worry, you’re safe.”

“Well, if you say so.”

“Stir-fry? I have some chicken breast in the fridge. And veg. What d’ya think?”

“Sounds lush.”

They walk to the kitchen, mugs in hand, and it’s surprising how Bo doesn’t even stir in his sleep when Harry hits the table with his hip and Talulah lets out a snort.

“You eat chicken, right?” He opens the fridge, and rummages through the vegetables. He turns to her with some spring onions and three sweet peppers in hand. “Or… onions?”

“I’m not picky. Hey,” she spots the JBL speaker on his counter. “Can we put some music on?”

He’s now putting the pan on the hobs, and goes to open a cabinet, presumably searching for the oil.

“Sure.”

Once she’s got her phone from the living room, she comes back in the kitchen with Spotify already open, and fingers scroll through numerous playlists before she finally taps on one. She thinks of scrolling more, selfishly wants to find a song she likes, but is interrupted when Harry’s speaker comes on, so she exits the app to connect her device. It doesn’t take long for it to connect so she’s on Spotify again, finger already hovering over the shuffle button.

Aretha Franklin’s ‘You Send Me’ comes on, and she smiles, Harry abruptly abandoning the task before him to turn his head to where she’s standing beside the fridge, and he chuckles, sending her a private smile.

“Good song,” his fingers are back to what he was doing before, dicing the onions into perfect shapes while the oil is sizzling in the pan.

“I love it.”

“I do, too. A legend.”

A moment passes, the chopping sounds increasing when he places the peppers on the chopping board. He’s careful, she can see that much, and she wonders if cooking is as therapeutic to him as it seems from where she’s standing. She steps closer to him, just so she can watch him in a better light, watch his long, ring-free fingers work the colourful vegetables as if he’s performing, like painting or something as delicate and mesmerising as that. He’s got his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, and she feels her neck and cheeks warm up at the images from before, how good his mouth felt on her burning body as he fed on her like it was an earned prize, his last meal.

“So you like cooking then,” she muses, and watches as his lips turn upwards in a sheepish smile, dimple forming on his cheek, and she wishes she could just lean forward and press a kiss there.

He begins chopping the mushrooms that he’s gotten out presumably when she was searching for her phone.

“I do. Went through lots of mud cake phases. Then uncooked spaghetti because obviously, I wasn’t allowed near the stove. I love cooking but I think,” the mushrooms are spared into a separate bowl, then he starts working the chilli. “I love watching my friends enjoy the food I cooked for them. If that makes sense.”

“It does! Can I also just say, it’s so fun watching this. I’m really enjoying it.”

Harry looks up at her, messy strands of hair framing his beautiful face, and he grins. “You like watching people cook or you like watching me cook for you?”

“Oh, stop being so self centred!”

Standing while doing nothing, she starts feeling weird, so she gets closer to him, leaning forward to get a closer look at what he’s doing. At the lack of distance between them, he looks up again, lips drawing into a small smile as he watches her inspect his work. Her head now in Harry’s way, he closes the small gap between them and she feels his lips on the back of her head. He presses a series of kisses there, making her tilt her head in surprise.

She straightens up again, and a bashed smile paints her features. “Kissing the student… highly inappropriate,” she bumps their shoulders, earning a laugh from the curly man whose focus now seems to be on the vegetables.

“Didn’t know you were trying to learn. Wait,” he rubs his temple with his knuckles, and Talulah holds her breath when she notices he’s still holding the knife. “I forgot about your Sunday roast fiasco.”

“Hey, I trusted you!”

“Watch and learn–”

“–No, that’s–” she watches as he tears the plastic with two large chicken breasts inside, and purses her lips as he places them on the chopping board. “You have to wash the chicken first– let me do it.”

Harry looks up with a smirk. “You sure?”

She knew how to cook chicken. She did, and she might even be a bit cocky about it considering how you would rarely catch Talulah in her kitchen with an apron on, cooking a proper meal. Her repertoire was limited to chicken, potatoes, and of course, all thanks to her dad, chicken haleem. Her dad being an amazing cook, it would always come as a shock to some people that she didn’t have the same culinary skills as him, and really, had no desire to learn more than what was necessary to survive.

Her lack of involvement in the kitchen had always been the subject matter with Dan, ending up with him complaining about how she only knew a handful of meals to cook and that she should try and learn more, because ‘what are you going to do once you have kids, Talulah?’. Of course, at the time, they would both laugh at how unskilled she was next to Dan, or anybody for that matter, and it would always end up with Dan making her sit on the counter and watch while he cooked her favourites. She didn’t mind his teasings back then, it was all banter. But now, every little comment he made back then made her skin crawl with anger and it would give her the ick, thinking back to his arrogant comments.

She doesn’t realise she’s already by the sink, one large chicken breast in hand as she tries to take all the tendons off while Harry watches, hand placed under his chin with his gaze intense.

She lets the white bits fall to the sink, into a dirty plate, and turns to Harry. “Do you by chance have any fresh lemons?”

“Oh,” Harry looks up at her, as if he was too caught up in a daydream, and nods, walking towards the fridge.

He comes back with half of a lemon and Talulah thinks it’s good enough. The large lemon is being rubbed all over the chicken breast, coating every area before she repeats each step all over again on the other chicken, and finishes off with placing them on the chopping board before she walks back to the sink and grabs the sponge.

“You don’t have to wash it, T, leave it.”

“It’s fine, it’s just one plate.”

“Didn’t know you were so passionate about chicken,” he waits for her to look at him before he sends her a smile, and turns to the chicken again.

He looks so relaxed in the kitchen, and it’s a weird thing to say because she’s known him for only a minute it seems, but Harry somehow looked relaxed and content in every situation. That one time aside, Harry looked incredibly happy around his flowers and his shop. Then the cafes they’d been at, Harry had always fit in, looking happy and thrilled to be there. Then she thinks back to when Harry visited her in her flat, when they shared a blunt while drinking cold tea. He looked right at home. Always smiling, always making eye contact so he can catch you off guard and smile at you as if you’ve given him the whole world.

If she were to close her eyes right now, or any time Harry was in her space, a never ending line, much like the one on a heart monitor, would appear before her eyes; stable and never changing. It was nerve wracking for Talulah. It made her anxious, knowing things were stable. It was just the fact that she didn’t know what would come after that. How would things go wrong from there, or, how would or could she make things worse? She waits, and anticipates the worst. That’s the way it always has been for her.

For weeks, she would watch Jeanette get her treats, and things she so desperately wanted for years but could never make her voice heard to her mother. But, one day, Talulah would wake up to a massive dollhouse in the middle of her room. Then a breakfast on the table –rather than having it on the sofa with feet up on their beat up coffee table–, with a special guest that was her mum. She would pour her milk for her, and give her a tiny squeeze on the shoulder as she took her seat in front of her, and stirred her plain black tea with nothing but sweetener. Instead of burying her face to her phone, her free hand would itch on the table as they made eye contact while Talulah bit into her cold toast. A week would go on like that and Talulah wouldn’t notice the screaming coming from downstairs as she watched her dolls with a smile on her face with her new shoes on her feet and her usually messy hair now in two sloppy braids.

“You do that a lot,” Harry’s deep voice cuts through her thoughts, and she startles.

She looks down, then looks up at him, and a surprised gasp leaves her mouth when she realises he’s already put everything in the pan, noodles boiling in a separate pot. So she walks up to him, and gets a closer look at the contents of the pan. The peppers look wrinkled and soft already, and the noodles look like they need to take things slow with the way the water has already risen to the brim.

“Do what?” She tilts her head, and turns the heat down, watching the water surrender.

“Get lost in your pretty head. Go to places, it seems.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” he grabs her by the wrist until she stops fiddling with the buttons, and when she looks at him, he brings the hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss on her wrist. “Don’t apologise. Just wanted to make sure you’re all right, you know?”

“I am. I’m okay. Just a little sleepy.”

Once the food is ready, they bring their plates to the living room and Harry tells Talulah to get comfortable on the sofa when he sees her sit uptight, shoulders tense and eyes darting from place to place. They sit next to each other, feet up on his coffee table, and eat while Bo snores underneath Harry’s legs. Family Guy plays in the background while they make small talk about the food, work, and Harry’s loud neighbours, and they pass the time until it’s nearing midnight, which is when Talulah starts to become jittery.

At Harry’s request, they leave their dishes in the sink to soak, and Talulah is stripped away from the kitchen as he tells her she doesn’t need to do tidying up or clean their messes. He watches with a smile while Talulah gets her clothes back on in his bedroom, and suddenly, it feels very unfamiliar to her, the scenery and the atmosphere. She’s hit by a wave of sadness, and she can’t recall anything upsetting that had happened that night to cause her to feel that way. The opposite, really, she finds herself thinking as she gets her socks on. Tonight was good, fantastic even. She had fun, so much fun that even the thought of what’d happen on that bed makes her cheeks heat up, suddenly feeling nauseous at the happy feelings.

Once at the door downstairs, her Uber waiting close by, Harry looks hesitant, deep in thought, though when she reaches and grabs him by the strings of his hoodie, he seems to relax and give in at her touch, lips already on hers as they share a peck, then another one, and then another one. It’s sweet, he’s sweet, and Talulah can’t help but smile so big at his red cheeks, presumably both from the sudden temperature change from warm to cold and the kiss they just shared.

“Thank you for tonight…” she mumbles into his neck, and Harry squeezes her waist tighter. “Thank you for the picnic… thank you for everything, and the food. It was delicious… I don’t deserve all this.”

“Hey,” Harry nips at her clothed shoulder. “None of that. You deserve more than a picnic and a mediocre stir-fry. Thank you,” he squeezes again, and pulls them apart so that he can look her in the eye. “Thank you for coming, I enjoyed spending time with you. So much.”

“I did too.”

They both look at the sound of a window being rolled down, the driver leaning across the seat to give them a stare.

“I should go.”

“Okay… good night. Text when you get home, yeah?”

She smiles, and strokes his chin. “Will do. Night. Thanks again, H.”

It was simply idiotic, to feel this nervous, his stomach tied in knots, when today was just an ordinary work day for Harry. He starts his day with a cold press from the bakery down the road, and he sips the green juice all throughout his morning while he gets ready. It’s embarrassing really, how he makes sure to look his best, hair almost rigorously styled with each strand carefully placed over each other, and he takes longer in front of his bathroom mirror plucking a few unruly eyebrows here and there, then a few peeking from inside his nose he’d attempted but failed miserably when tears began rolling down his face.

His hands, almost shaking, apply his moisturiser which he usually forgets most days, and then reaches for his SPF. Once back in his bedroom, his fingers tap on his phone, double-checking the time before his gaze darts from jewelry to jewelry placed neatly on the dresser, and once he finds what he’s looking for, his hands unclasp the cross necklace around his neck and replaces it with a jade cross, then takes his appearance in in the mirror. Jeans and a jumper would do. As he’s adjusting the red, knit jumper, Bo comes in, head low and tongue out as he struts. The labrador sits at Harry’s socked feet and looks up at him, eyes unblinking as if he’s trying to let his disappointment known.

“Sorry, Bo, I’ll feed you in sec,” Harry mutters. Bo whines.

When Bo’s kibbles make a satisfying noise as Harry fills the dog’s bowl, he feels the rumbling noise echoing in his chest, his heart, and it reminds him so much of how he feels whenever Talulah is near, whether it be a thought away or at arm’s length. As cliche as it sounds, Talulah consumed all his thoughts, from the time he closed his eyes to the first cuppa of the morning. Harry was needy. He wanted her all to himself, and he wanted to constantly see her, be near her. He wanted to hold hands, press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth in public or stroke her cheek, and he wanted to read to her, wanted her to read to him, prepare breakfast side by side in the kitchen and blow into their hot teas with gleaming eyes as they checked each other out on the kitchen table.

Sure, he’s only known her for such a short period of time, and they didn’t have the chance to share a lot in that timespan, only a few dates here and there, but Harry already felt himself letting all his guard down once again, and fall uncontrollably without knowing when and where he would land. It was scary, and Harry would much rather die than make Talulah uncomfortable or make her feel trapped under his fondness. Fondness, Harry finds himself dwelling on that word, shaking his head in disbelief as a snort leaves his mouth. Was it only fondness, or was he actually scared of using a better word?

When the large manor of Sibton Park comes into Harry’s view, the clock on the radio shows 3:02PM. The sky is a gloomy shade of grey, the sun teasing the earthlings with its mere existence from behind a cloud, barely shining in pastel yellow hue, and it’s so not a wedding weather for him despite knowing the unreliable English weather, though he thinks it must be a sign; a mere symbol of today, not for him, but for Talulah. If it were his wedding, Harry would have found it annoying, having to marry the love of his life a couple of kilometres away from mud as wet leaves decorated the ground.

He sighs loudly, as if he’s trying to prove someone something despite being alone in the car, and thinks it’s time to finally make a move, go inside and, as much as he found it absurd and had his opinions on Jeanette, do his job– which is what he’s here for in the first place. He looks down at his Gucci knockoff boots for a minute, deeming himself somewhat lucky considering the mud on the ground, and it takes him a couple of minutes until he finally gathers all his things from the car and swiftly walks to the entrance of the manor.

He takes a few seconds to admire the simple arrangement at the entrance of the manor, white lilies surrounded by cocculus decorating the stairs, and they look extremely pretty even under the grey skies while the wet cement serves as a podium for Harry’s beautiful plants. Once inside, the low melody coming from somewhere not far away doesn’t come as a surprise, considering the few hours until the ceremony, and Harry continues walking with eyes searching for Freya the wedding planner’s small frame and a few others in charge of today.

“Harry,” he makes eye contact with Gale, another person in charge of the day, and Gale keeps waving his hands in the air despite the little-to-no distance between them. “All right, mate? Here, drink?”

Harry accepts the champagne glass with a smile. “Thanks, mate. Hi guys. How’s everything so far?”

“Perfect. Oh,” Freya pauses, like she’s remembered something. “Finn just went to check the orangery. Band’s doing their last rehearsal and Jeanette and Lewis are upstairs, getting ready– Jeanette in the yellow room and Lewis, I believe, is in the red room.”

“Okay, I’ll just find Finn and we’ll go over everything. Has Jeanette seen the final arrangement?” Harry takes a small sip of the drink, and leaves it on the small table next to the fireplace.

“She has, she’s really happy with everything. Lewis…” Freya seems to hesitate for a moment. “He’s very easy to please and he trusts Jeanette so, I think he will like everything.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, lips pursing in thought. Though, he doesn’t say anything and merely nods at her before he starts walking in the direction of the orangery, to find Finn and also see the place with his own eyes, to check if everything’s perfect as planned. As he walks closer to the orangery, the chatter and music get louder, and he finds himself humming to the oddly familiar song, but before he can make out where he’s heard it before, he sees Finn’s tall frame hovering over the arrangement on the table. When he feels his presence, Finn looks up and gives him a smile, a quick hello, and makes way for Harry to see everything himself, eyes watching him patiently as if he’s waiting for his teacher to give him his next task.

“Looks pretty good, eh?” Harry nods in the direction of the white lilies arranged beautifully on the long table, cocculuses wrapped around and underneath each flower.

“Perfect, boss.”

The next time Harry hears the same song again is when he and the other staff are all in a separate room inside the manor, all with drinks and some of them supporting a plate full of treats while they chatter away. Harry, though, can’t seem to stop thinking about Talulah, how she’s feeling and if she’s actually here like she said she would in her text a few minutes ago.

The last time they texted, Talulah informed Harry of her whereabouts, telling him how she –and a friend– were in her Uber at last and on their way to the venue, and she even made a joke about the driver being too pouty as if he too was annoyed by the event taking place today. Underneath the text, she’d included a photo of her in front of her mirror, in her dress, looking as though she was ready to steal hearts and make everyone everywhere swoon at her presence and the eye-catching, heart-wrenching orange dress that hugged her figure so beautifully.

He knew by now that all the jokes were told to make Talulah herself feel better, to hide the very fact that she was, in fact, upset or rather, angry at the whole thing. He knew she felt let down, more than ever, and he knew her overly enthusiastic mood about the whole thing; her dress, her new earrings, and the ‘surprisingly comfortable’ shoes, were just a cover up for how she actually felt inside. He was afraid she would break soon, actually break down, and that the whole nonchalant way of treating today would come biting her in the arse. Her words, not his.

Now seated in an uncomfortable armchair, Harry feels himself actually itching with the need to go down there, find her amongst all those ordinary faces and take her by the hand, and throw her in his car and drive away where no one would find them. Or maybe he could just silently walk down there, find her, and keep an eye on her the whole evening, because he knew things were only going to get worse from there. As terrible as it sounded, it was true.

When the Uber drove down the country lane, roads she knew like the back of her hand, Talulah felt herself grow nervous, suddenly feeling ill at the realisation that she was actually going through with this. It was mad, and uncalled for.

But, as she stands in front of the large estate with Ben on her side, she tries to focus on why she’s here in the first place. It certainly wasn’t because she wanted to be there for Jeanette, it was simply because, and as sadistic as it sounded, to see it for herself, see Jeanette and the love of her life with her own eyes because it was hard going through something without knowing what it looked like.

Ben touches her elbow in an attempt to make his presence known, to silently tell her that he’s there, and she’s thankful, so thankful that she can’t help but turn to him and pull him into a hug. She tries her best not to look around, despite knowing the arrangement was Harry’s own work, and they walk up the stairs that lead them inside the manor. They’re late, she knows, because there’s no one there to guide them through the large hallway, to where the wedding would be held, but they keep walking until she comes face to face with Harry’s tall figure, red jumper catching her attention before anything else, and she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding at the sight of his beautiful face, letting him engulf her in a warm hug as his hands rest on her waist, thumb stroking her over the fabric in an attempt to soothe her.

“I was worried,” he murmurs into her neck, then places a kiss on her shoulder over the dress. “Are you… do you still want to go in?”

“I… think so.”

“Lulah, we’re already late so if you’re not sure about this,” Ben calls from behind her, and Harry perks up at the sound of his voice. “We can just leave– hi, Harry, I’m Ben.”

It makes her laugh, how he’s being polite whilst also trying to help her out, and she watches both men shake hands. As soon as she hears the distant melody, she feels her knees shake, everything now becoming too real.

This was a wedding, and her mother was the bride. There were guests, and everyone would smile and laugh as they watched two people who were most likely in love tie the knot and kiss each other. The thought suddenly becomes too real to handle. She feels her stomach turn upside down, and it feels like she’s going to start heaving but before she gives up on her knees and stomach, Harry pulls her into another hug.

She can feel them share a look, and Harry is the first one to break their silence.

“Let’s find a quiet place, hm?”

“I’m fine, I’m good– I’ll just go in–”

Harry stops her, hand grabbing her by the waist. “No, T. Let’s just find a quiet place to sit down. I’ll get you water and something to eat, yeah? You’re not going in there. I’m sorry but I can’t let you do that to yourself.”

“Come on,” Ben walks up to her, and holds out his hand for her to take.

She lets them both guide her somewhere she can just sit down, and she doesn’t even realise Harry’s gone until he comes back with a bottle of water. When the bottle is handed to her, she can’t help but look up at him, and if it weren’t for her fried brain, she would smile at him, or perhaps utter a ‘thank you’, but she remains silent as he opens the lid and hands it to her. She takes a few sips, feeling the coldness against her teeth, and she places it on the step next to her, hands going up to her dress to fix the skirt mindlessly.

She doesn’t want to cry. She was not going to. But her chest suddenly feels heavy, and her spine almost gives up, sending her backwards, but she’s quick enough to recover, hands coming up to hug herself as she tries to ignore the song being heard in the distance.

“Do you want me to call an Uber?”

She turns to Ben, and shakes her head slowly. She then turns to Harry– Harry who’s still on his feet, watching her with a frown on his face.

“I’m okay. Harry,” she looks up. “I– you’re working. Go. I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t worry about me, I just want to make sure you’re okay, yeah? Have you eaten? I can get you something–”

“–I have. Please, don’t worry about me. I’m okay. It was stupid, coming here.”

“No…” he kneels in front of her, and his hand immediately finds her chin, making her look up at him. “Not stupid. I… do you want to leave? We can find a cafe or something close by. I have people here, they could ring if something were to go wrong.”

Talulah purses her lips. “No, Harry, I don’t want you to get into trouble for me. I’ll be fine, Ben’s with me,” she finds Ben watching them with a small smile.

“I won’t. You guys just wait here, I’ll find Finn and let him know something came up. Just,” his hand pauses on her cheek. Then he does something unexpected and presses their foreheads together, eyes closing for a moment before he opens them again. “Just wait here, yeah? Please.”

“Okay.”

Harry walks away from them and Ben sits down next to her, arm now wrapped around her as he presses a kiss on her temple.

“Do you want to go home? I’m sure Harry would understand.”

“No… it’s okay,” she sniffs, and rubs the bridge of her nose. “It’s also his birthday today. I feel horrible.”

“Don’t! There’s nothing to feel horrible for, babe. I promise. Hey,” he nudges her. “He’s hot.”

“Oh, please.”

“What? He is.”

They sit in silence for another minute before she stands up, and starts walking around, eyes darting from painting to painting on the walls, and she comes across a guestbook sign and she knows it’s for today because her mother’s name is printed at the very top, in a sumptuous calligraphy, and her curiosity gets the best of her when her eyes begin searching for the groom’s name. Obviously, it’s at the very top, right next to Jeanette’s name, and she can’t help but purse her lips at the name, suddenly feeling too sick that a man who, in a way, stole her mother from her finally had a name.

She could finally say her name, imagine it whilst thinking of them both– happily in love.

Someone calls her name, but she can’t seem to take her eyes off of the name. She keeps staring at it, face void of any emotion, and she only exhales when someone touches her shoulder.

“What is going on?” Ben asks, words laced with worry. “Talulah?”

She thinks he has to see for himself, so she, surprisingly, moves away from the guestbook, face still emotionless as she merely catches Ben looking at the guestbook himself.

She can’t help but whine, a pathetic noise that leaves her mouth unconsciously, and Ben tightens his hold as they sway slowly in the middle of the grandiose manor. They stay like that until Harry comes back, this time, two water bottles in hand as his backpack is slinging from his back, clearly full and heavy, and he gives them both a bright smile. Though, the smile quickly disappears when he sees them, wrapped in each other’s arms as they sway left and right, Talulah’s face frigid, hidden in the crook of Ben’s neck as his hand massages the small of her back.

“T?” He calls, but she can’t move, can’t break free from Ben’s hold.

Ben, sweet Ben clears his throat. “We better get to the car.”

But of course, Ben’s voice is cut off by footsteps approaching, and Talulah thinks the silence was too good to be true anyway. They all turn their heads to the sound, and she feels her breath hitch in her throat.

It’s Jeanette.

Jeanette dressed in all white, looking expensive and happy– face all dolled up as her auburn hair is up in a messy bun. She looks way younger than she actually is, and the noise her heels are making feels as though they’re both a pair of daggers, swinging themselves in her direction as they enter right into her heart. It hurts– it physically hurts.

“T, let’s go, okay? Come on, let’s go,” he says, thumb still stroking her cold cheek.

“Talulah,” Jeanette calls, trying to walk as swiftly as she can over to them. “Lulah, wait.”

“Jeanette, not the best time,” Ben tries to reason with her, hand in the air as if he’s her personal bodyguard.

Jeanette does not listen.

“Sweetheart, wait a minute.”

She yells as loud as she possibly can.

“Fuck you. Fuck you!”

“Talulah stop screaming, I need to talk to you, come on, give me a minute,” she’s close enough for her to pick out her perfume, and it makes her stomach turn upside down.

“I thought,” she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “I thought I could come here and prove to you that I was stronger than you think. But turns out– turns out you win again. Again.”

It’s surprising, how her voice is so clear, and she spits out the words without stuttering or any hesitation whatsoever. She hears Harry’s breath hitch in his throat, and for a moment, she wants to turn to him and take him into her arms, because at this point, Talulah thinks Harry’s seen and heard too much, and it wouldn't surprise her if he were to run to his car and drive away without looking back. He doesn’t, though.

She also hears Jeanette swear under her breath and turn to check their surroundings. This makes her blood boil even more, so she continues.

“What?” She calls her out. “Why are you looking around, are you embarrassed? Embarrassed of me, once again, mother. I can never win in your eyes, can I? You’re so happy– why– why did you have to come back into my life?”

“I love you– you’re my child! I want you with me,” she places her hands on her chest, almost like she’s taking part in a tragedy.

She shakes her head, tears rolling down her face. “I don’t fucking care.”

“I’m sorry. Please, listen to me for a minute!”

A bitter laugh escapes her mouth, “You’re not sorry. You just want to make things right your way again. So you can sleep better at night.”

It’s Ben who touches her shoulder.

“Come on, T, we’re done here.”

He guides her to the exit, Harry following close behind with water bottles long forgotten on one of the console tables in the hallway. Despite her heavy heart, she finds herself thinking about the water bottles, wishing she could just open her mouth and ask Harry to go back for them, because in all honesty, she thinks the unpleasant taste in her mouth could be subsided with a sip of water. She doesn’t though, and instead, she lets Ben help her into Harry’s car.

It’s quiet. They’re so quiet that she can feel Ben’s breathing and Harry’s watch ticking, and it’s awful, the silence, so she finds herself leaning forward in an awkward manner, to turn the radio on. Harry turns his head in surprise, and opens his mouth as if to say something, but he decides against it as he pulls the car out of the car park. And honestly, she just feels bad for him. Fuck being an empath, she thinks. She ought to be crying, wailing, and screaming that the one thing she promised herself to do, she could not.

She sits back down, and actually proceeds to put her seatbelt on, because it gives her something to focus on. A pop song fills the car as she watches their car outrun the trees on the side of the road, and she doesn’t realise it’s raining until a big, fat raindrop hits her side of the window, the noise startling her as she looks around, then at the two men sitting quietly in the front.

Ben has one hand on the grab handle while the other is resting on his knee, fingers drumming nervously as Harry’s hands, gripping the steering wheel so tightly, look like they’re going to fall to his laps due to how white and fragile they look. His thumb is tapping against the leather cover of the steering wheel, like he’s trying to calm down, and she thinks the rapid movement indicates the state of his thoughts and brain in general. She wants to speak up, tell them off for being so awkward and tense, but it sounds so foolish and hypocritical considering what they all had encountered back at the venue.

Once the car is on the motorway at last, Harry speaks first.

“London? Or should we find somewhere to stop and maybe get you something to eat, or something warm to drink?” His eyes find hers in the rear-view mirror.

“Can we go back to London? I’m sorry for making you leave like that. I hope you won’t get into trouble or anything.”

“Please, don’t apologise– I wanted to leave with you.”

“Just,” she sighs, playing with the neckline of her dress. “We can go back to mine. I just feel horrible–”

Ben cuts her off immediately, head turning to her to give her a stern look. “You did nothing wrong. This is not your fault. Never, you hear me?” He turns his head to the road again, and sighs. “I’m just glad I came with you and… Harry, thank you for giving us a ride, mate. Really.”

“No need to thank me. Ben’s right. What happened back there– it wasn’t your fault. We’re just happy to be with you right now. And,” Harry drives past a VW Minivan and she finds herself watching the van disappear behind Harry’s car. “You can just go home and rest. Take a shower, wear something comfortable. Don’t worry about us.”

She shakes her head, much like a stubborn toddler. “No. Come back to mine, both of you. I insist. Plus, I still have to give you your birthday present.”

“Oh!” Ben lets out a happy shriek, and it makes her smile, grateful to have Ben’s bubbly self back even if it’s only for a moment. “Happy birthday, Harry. How old are you? Twenty-one?”

This makes Harry snort, and he just mumbles out his age, and she feels a warmth in her heart, as if the ice had started to melt at last.

After a long car ride, they all sigh when Harry’s navigation announces that they’re on B450 towards Ladbroke Grove. After that, it only takes about twenty minutes until they’re parked in front of her little flat, the sky now a depressing navy as they slowly get out of the car, Harry in particular with a hunched back, and they all walk up the stairs to her front door. It takes her a few seconds to remember the tiny bag she’d been carrying, so with shaking hands, she finds her keys, and finally, they’re inside.

Despite the heater being turned off, the flat is still warm, enough to warm her insides, her bones as she takes off her shoes, Harry and Ben copying her as their shoes decorate the entrance. Both men are quiet, and if they could, they would walk on their tippy toes, not wanting to disrupt the stillness of the flat. The air is still tense, though Talulah thinks it’s only Harry and Ben who feel that way, not wanting to make a sound just in case it sets her off.

It’s weird, and scary how numb and normal she feels at this moment. She knows by now that this is her ‘calm before the storm’, and that eventually, today’s events– her breaking down in front of Jeanette would come and bite her in the arse.

Though, she can’t seem to care. She would, as always, power through and exist until the enormity of her wounds caught up to her. Remembering today, what had happened and Jeanette in her dress, it was absurd, and it was sick. It was simply wicked, and disgusting to her. As she puts the kettle on, images of Jeanette appear back in her head. Jeanette in her dress, all smiles as she utters the words ‘I do’, but then, as if it weren’t bad enough, Lewis appears on her side, his arm wrapped around her in an overprotective manner as they clink their glasses.

She feels a feathery touch on her waist, and she turns around, finding Harry with kind eyes and a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looks tired, there are bags under his eyes, and his forehead is shinier than usual. Though, she’s not sure if she’s actually seeing herself in front of her, in Harry’s place, and that it’s Talulah with bags under her eyes and a greasy forehead to match. She tries to smile at him, and she thinks she succeeds because the smile on Harry’s face only gets bigger as his gaze falls to their feet, and she knows he doesn’t want to do anything to make her uncomfortable. Like hugging, or kissing.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me being here?” He says, and it makes her frown.

“Of course, I am. Don’t be silly. I’m making us tea…”

“Okay,” his hold on her waist tightens only for a second before he lets go of her, and nods.

Before he walks away from her, Talulah grabs his wrist, making him look up at her expectantly. His arm is warm, and soft, and she wants to touch more of him, but she can’t seem to do anything more than a tiny squeeze on his wrist.

“Happy birthday. Again. And,” her gaze falls to the ground. “I’m sorry for fucking it up. I’m sure you’ve had better plans than witnessing my family drama… once again.”

Harry’s gaze darkens, and his jaw actually clenches. “Don’t ever apologise for that,” soft hands find her cold cheeks. “Ever. You hear me?”

“Harry…”

“No, Talulah. I will not have you think this is your fault or– or you’ve ruined something because you didn’t. You could never.”

His thumbs press into her skin, and he moves his head closer but it’s slow, so slow that she knows he’s testing the waters, asking silently if he can get closer to her. And she wants it, she wants it so fucking bad. He knows, he understands, because he presses their foreheads together, and both their eyes close at the contact. Despite the open plan of the kitchen and Ben sitting on the other side of the kitchen, they stay like that for a moment before she opens her eyes, and smiles briefly before Harry pulls away.

“Happy birthday, Harry.”

He smiles even wider. “Thank you, sweet girl.”

The kettle startles them both, and once they’re sat on the sofa, Ben on the armchair and all with a mug in their hands, Talulah takes a deep breath, though it’s hard, and it feels as though she’s breathing in exhaust. She takes a tentative sip, as if a sip of tea would act as gasoline for her already-burning insides and set her on fire despite already feeling so burnt out somehow.

Her mind is racing with thoughts, all of them only passing through so quickly that she can’t even seem to process any of them, or digest them– make sense of them. Harry still looks hesitant, and sort of on edge, watches her every move with a worried look in his eyes. It’s frustrating really, them being on edge around her, and she can’t even stop to think that yes, they were on edge, but rightly so, considering what had happened back there. They were probably waiting for a big outburst, for Talulah to just come out of her protective shell and yell, scream, and maybe throw them out, having changed her mind, but it doesn’t come; none of it does. Instead, they all sit in silence, the only interruption being the hustling traffic outside and a dog barking in the distance.

They finish their tea, and Ben takes their mugs to the kitchen and later walks to where she’s sitting, bending forward to wrap one arm around her as he places a kiss on her temple. He lets them know that he would be on his way, and insists that Talulah doesn’t get up as he walks to the door by himself, bidding his last goodbye, and just like that, they’re alone.

She sighs, and gets up, Harry looking up with curious eyes.

“I want to give you your present,” she begins walking towards where her bedroom is, waving Harry off when he opens his mouth.

She comes back with a red, fairly big box that’s decorated with little reindeers, and she smiles, sitting next to him as she hands him the box. He looks all shy, and there’s a tint to his cheeks which make her smile even harder. It’s obvious he still feels the weight of today in the air, the tension still following them wherever they went, but when she gives him a reassuring smile and a nod, his movements become more confident. He unlaces the big bow that surrounds the box, and slowly, like a kid on Christmas morning, lifts up the lid. He’s awfully slow, as if he’s scared of the magical moment being ruined.

When the lid is completely off, discarded gently on the sofa, his eyes widen with realisation of what the box holds inside, and he bites harder into his bottom lips and Talulah actually worries that blood is about to run down his mouth with the way he’s biting his lips. It’s another minute before he lifts up his gaze, finding Talulah’s with a sheepish smile to match the look in her eyes, and he lets out a laugh.

“Woah,” he lets out, hands reaching for the clothing item in the box. He lifts it up and opens it, eyes skimming the writing on the jumper.

It’s a fairly simple jumper with colourblocks, supporting a large ‘LOVERBOY’ writing right in the middle.

He looks up again, finding her curious gaze. “This is– I love it, T, you didn’t have to get me anything but this– this is so sweet.”

“You are a loverboy,” she says, smiling down at him.

Harry shakes his head in disbelief, eyes still wide and cheeks now a rosy pink. “Come here, you,” he reaches for her, and he brings her into a hug.

He murmurs yet-another thank you into her skin, lips grazing her warm flesh and it makes her sigh, feeling as content as ever as he keeps murmuring, whispering how good and sweet she is before his lips press to the exposed skin of her neck, now more confident with his kisses as he peppers tiny ones on her skin. He’s too sweet, too fucking sweet, and Talulah thinks that is why she seems to forget everything: whenever Harry’s touching her, or whenever he’s near, for that matter.

Harry leaves after a while, the box clasped tightly under his arm as he gives her a kiss on her forehead, then cheeks, and he tells her how he would wash and dry it as soon as he gets home so he can wear it as soon as possible. She sends him on his way, lips tugged in a tiny smile as she watches him cross the road and walk to his car. When the front door is shut, it’s like another is opened somewhere in her head. The door that acted like a barrier, much like a floodgate, is now open and it catches her off guard when the endless sea of thoughts fills her conscious, and she doesn’t get the chance to stop and acknowledge, or absorb anything that is fleeting inside her head.

She walks to the kitchen anyway, and for whatever reason, she puts the kettle on, waits for it to boil very patiently and once done, she pours the hot water down the sink, coating each and every single dish in there mindlessly as the steam rises, and it’s when some of it rising from inside the sink hits her face that she startles, as if she’s being awakened, and a whine escapes her lips, realising the unnecessary act from putting the kettle on, to pouring it down the sink. Her resistance to her fleeting thoughts proves so futile that she has to surrender at last, and she lets herself feel– really feel.

Like a plate surrendering to gravity, Talulah feels herself give in to the waves of emotion, her heart begins to beat faster than normal and her vision becomes bleak, and she slowly– so slowly kneels on the kitchen floor. Her knees make contact with the cold tiles, and it’s almost as if she’s trying to find a good enough position to break down. Lips begin trembling like a bird in the cold and she lets it take over her, chest rising up and down rapidly and it feels like someone’s choking her, and unless she lets the tears fall down and give in to the pathetic tremble of her lips, they keep tightening their hold on her throat, cutting the oxygen mercilessly.

With legs wide open on the floor, she tries to look around, just to confirm this is real, she is real and as much as this feeling like hell, because if it were a dream, it would come to an end at some point. Though, it doesn’t work. Instead, the breathing quickens as she leans her head back and lets the tears chase each other, dampen every surface on her face, her chin. The ringing in her ear intensifies, as if it’s a dog chasing her, and she gives in, lets it consume her as she sits there.

She’s retyping an email when a mug is placed on her desk, and it startles her, as she’d been too caught up in typing and deleting her email over and over again–was it too formal, or did she sound ridiculous… or too enthusiastic?–. Isabelle looks tired, and it’s funny, coming from Talulah, and with the lack of makeup on her face, eyes now smaller sans the black eyeliner and feathery lashes, she can’t help but copy the frown on her face.

She doesn’t let her speak.

“Made you a fresh cuppa, figured the one you kept drinking had gone cold seeing, you know, the fact that it’s been three hours?”

“Oh,” Talulah raises her eyebrows. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Is it Finance?”

“Yeah,” she looks down at the laptop screen again.

Isabelle sighs, and gets closer to her, then sits next to her. “No use in emailing back and forth. You might want to go and talk to them properly.”

“I know… it’s just. It’s been a stressful week,” she murmurs, not wanting to let out more than she’s supposed to, even though she knows she can trust her. “I’ll go tomorrow. Or the day after–”

Isabelle rolls her eyes. She knows.

“–I will! I’m just. Really busy.”

“Okay… just weird how they’re two floors down but insist on emailing you back and forth,” her long fingers reach for the almonds in Talulah’s lunchbox, and she steals one with a sheepish smile.

Surprisingly, it hasn’t been that hard coming back to work after the wedding fiasco. Sure, Zayn texted to check up on her that night, but Talulah can’t actually remember anything beyond what went down on the kitchen floor and if she actually responded to Zayn or not. But, before she gets the chance to reach her phone on the table to actually check, Zayn enters the break room, his red turtleneck basically blinding her as it contrasts so very beautifully with the dull atmosphere of the room, and he’s nodding along to something Anika is saying, both of them supporting their iPads in their arms which indicate an upcoming project for them.

As Anika walks to the microwave, Zayn’s eyes search the room, finally landing on her as he begins walking towards her and Isabelle.

“Hey,” it comes out clearer on the second try, and Talulah doesn’t really need to smell the cigarette in his breath to figure out the reason why he sounds so gruff all of a sudden.

They smile at him, and both watch Isabelle walk out the break room after she mentions her schedule.

“How was the wedding?”

She nods mindlessly, finger picking at the dry pasta sauce on the keyboard. “Was all right.”

“Just all right?”

It was endearing how willing Zayn seemed to have a chat, considering he wasn’t the one for deep conversations unless he was either high or drunk. And when he seemed to talk more than necessary, everyone knew he’d just switched to his therapist mode, and the switch happened purely because of his desire to make his friends feel better and not because he wanted to satisfy himself. She loved that about him. And for some silly reason, she so randomly finds herself thinking how she should spend more time with Zayn.

Though, she’s not ready to give up.

“What’s going on, you look… defeated.”

She looks up in surprise, and tilts her head to the side. A breathless chuckle escapes her mouth. “Defeated? Thanks very much. I guess.”

“How was the wedding?”

“You’ve asked that before.”

“Well, you’re just bulllshitting me so I wanted to try again.”

“I’m not,” she reaches for her tea. “I’m really not. I’m just– not really in the mood to talk about it,” Talulah gives him a tiny smile, at least she intends it to be a smile, though she can’t be sure if it actually looks like a smile or a wince.

Zayn sighs, and he scratches the back of his neck, and Talulah’s eyes watch the movement of his hand, his bare fingers– free of any rings, and Jules’ face pops up in her mind.

“Hey,” she points at his hand with her chin. “How’s Jules? We didn’t get the chance to talk much after you came to visit that night,” she says. Zayn nods briefly. “So you guys are talking, yeah? That’s good?”

“It just feels like we’re stuck in a limbo,” Zayn sniffs once, and Talulah tries not to stare too much, especially with her gaze so intense and curious. She lets him do his own thing. “Yeah, she’s talking to me, but at times it feels so distant. Forced. I don’t know what to do.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you feel that way– that you think she’s being distant. Your feelings are valid. Feeling lost and confused– and in a limbo in a relationship like you said is never fun. It’s damaging for the both of you. You have to tell her, talk to her about your feelings.”

Silence.

More silence.

She thumbs at another stain on her laptop just so she seems occupied, and when she looks up, Zayn’s gaze is focused on her thumb, his expression so cloudy and distant that Talulah thinks his head’s somewhere else because when she retracts her hand and places it on her lap, Zayn’s gaze remains on the laptop.

“Sorry,” his voice is so quiet, his mumbling barely audible. Though, there seems to be an awakening inside him as he flinches, the movement so muted that she almost misses it. He makes eye contact. “How the fuck do you do that?”

The thing is, the disbelief in his voice makes her chuckle, despite the vague question. So, she lets herself laugh at the expression on his face, despite the fact that she feels two large pinches on her thigh.

“I didn’t do anything,” she says, smile apparent in her voice. Zayn frowns. She laughs again.

“No, you just– I asked you how the wedding was, I could tell it wasn’t exactly the event of the month but then you just made me talk. Again. I don’t talk.”

Talulah raises her eyebrows, and mischief washes over her features. “You are talking now…”

“That’s not– whenever I ask how you’re really feeling, you just ignore it and give me a half-arsed answer. Then,” his voice gets higher, a knowing, barely-there smirk appearing on his face. “Then you just make me talk about what’s bothering me even though I don’t even know what’s really bothering me half the time.”

“Well, I don’t do it on purpose. I don’t have that power,” she lets out a laugh. “But I’m flattered that you think so highly of me, babes.”

“Oh, piss right off, will ya. Anyway, look– I gotta run. What are you doing after work? Up for a pint or two?” Zayn gets up on his feet, and she watches him smoothen out his trousers. “Or five.”

It’s a good day.

Despite the bum-freezing weather outside, the sun comes out from behind the clouds every few seconds before disappearing again, and seeing the pedestrians dressed in colourful jackets and winter hats is just enough for Harry to feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It absolutely has nothing to do with opening his eyes to a ‘good morning’ text from Talulah. But, who was he kidding, really.

She was so lovely. So, so lovely that every time he stopped and thought of her, he felt his chest squeezing his heart, the most welcome squeeze ever, and it certainly didn’t help when he entered the shop and there were dozens of sunflowers at the back, waiting to be unpacked and placed into their respective buckets. He didn’t know what to call it, really. It certainly wasn’t love– it was too early for that. The closest thing, he finds himself thinking, was endearment. Perhaps, he was too afraid to call it something else, too scared to send his brain the wrong impression, afraid that his strong feelings were only one sided. Sure, he knew Talulah liked him, it would be insane to think that she wasn’t interested at all. Though, he couldn’t help but worry. Worry, because he didn’t want to scare her away. Was he idolising her?

He finds himself behind the till after a while, handing a customer her receipt along with her card, his best smile on his face, and he thanks her before he catches a glimpse of yellow on her nails. They’re so bright, but the colour makes his insides feel all warm inside, and he thinks it’s a good thing that she’s left the shop because the creepy smile on his face while he stared down at her nails might’ve been inappropriate.

With yellow in his mind, he cranes his neck to get a glimpse of the outside, eyes searching for a particular bucket that holds big, bright sunflowers. There they were. Some open, some trying their hardest to open. They would, eventually, Harry finds himself thinking, though he’s interrupted when Cam touches him on the shoulder, her hands bearing yet another thick folder of invoices and orders waiting to be processed.

He’s highlighting another ETA when Jo peeks her head into the stuffy office, a smirk appearing on her face as soon as they make eye contact.

“You’re gonna break your neck if you keep looking at me like that.”

She responds with an eye roll, feet already carrying her further into the office. “Come out, someone’s asking for you. On the phone.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You better come with me.”

“Why is it for me? I mean, I don’t think my mobile rang–”

“Oh for goodness sake, just come out.”

“You’re weird,” he mutters under his breath, already on his feet as he follows Jo outside.

It feels good, the atmosphere outside that stuffy and dusty room, so Harry thinks it’s time to finally do a deep clean, seeing how his nostrils are already unclenching at the somewhat-fresh air compared to the office’s air. He looks up, seeing Cam on the till and there’s the phone, just waiting to be picked up from where it’s resting. With a shake of his head, he walks to it, and Cam looks up from the customer, an all-knowing smile appearing on her freckled face upon seeing Harry reach for the telephone.

“You lot are weird,” he can’t help but mutter for the second time, and he presses the phone against his ear.

He’s curious. And perhaps a little weirded out. People wouldn’t normally pick and choose when they were putting in an order through the phone. If anyone wanted to speak to Harry specifically, they would have no problem reaching him on his mobile.

He clears his throat. “Hello?”

“Oh!” someone shrieks on the other end, and Harry doesn’t think he recognises the shrill voice. “Hello. I want to place an order for a bouquet delivery.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, and almost laughs at the overly-posh–and fake–accent.

“Sure, no worries. You can also order through our website, if you’d prefer.”

“No, this is just fine.”

“Oh. Okay, sure,” he looks around for a notepad seeing how the computer seems to be occupied by Cam. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“Well, I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t know much about flowers. What– what do you like the best? For winter.”

The crease between Harry’s eyebrows becomes more prominent. This is weird, he finds himself thinking. Either, this lady is wasting his time, or she’s just crazy.

He takes a deep breath. “Geranium, maybe? Or we could do daisies. I love the gerberas myself, they have such beautiful colours.”

“Yeah perfect, gerberas then.”

“You sure?” He finds himself asking. She agrees. “Anything else in between? I can add some eucalyptus in between to make it look more expensive and well, pretty.”

“Yes, I trust you.”

“Can I get the delivery address, please, and your mobile? We will send you a link for the payment.”

“Okay,” she says, and it’s so familiar it’s driving Harry insane. “07491867949. Delivery address will be Wild at Heart at Liberty.”

His fingers pause on the notepad, the last digit looking as messy as it can be. She must be pulling a leg.

“No, the delivery address? Where do you want them to be delivered?”

“The flowers are for you, idiot.”

“Talulah?”

“Honestly,” she cackles. “I didn’t think it would work. How did you not recognise my voice? I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

Harry looks around, and catches Jo’s eye where she’s mopping a puddle near the exit, but her eyes are still focused on him. She’s smiling, but the mischief in her eyes can’t be mistaken.

“I feel like such a mug right now. I should’ve known when you agreed to eucalyptus with gerberas.”

Talulah gasps on the other end, and it makes him smile. “You’re such a little shit!”

“Look who’s talking!”

“Well,” she says, and he knows she’s smiling even though he can’t see her face. “I’d love to give you your flowers so… when are you free?”

“Oh my god,” he’s sweating, and he’s a hundred percent sure his whole face is red. “Whenever you want me to be. Can’t do tonight, though. I’m meeting up with my sister.”

“Oh! That’s okay, how about Saturday?”

“Works for me. Hey,” he notices the crowd in the shop. “I’ll call you when I get home, yeah?”

“‘Course.”

“Thank you. This was… you’re so sweet, y’know that?”

“Stop flirting with me at work, you dick.”

“Oh my god, you’re brutal. I take it back. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, Harry.”

He’s done for. Harry is fucked.

For the next few hours, he finds it difficult to wipe the smile off of his face, but still manages to get some work done despite the flutter in his chest. The sky begins to get darker and darker with each passing minute, Harry still trying to tidy up and lock up since it was his turn to do so that evening, and when he finally leaves from the backdoor, navy skies and fog welcome him, pushing him to walk faster and faster until he reaches his car. It’s not pleasant, when his arse makes contact with the cold leather, so he shudders and rubs his hands together in hopes of a crumb of warmth, the heater already turned all the way up as he waits for his body to defrost so that he can finally lift his foot from where it’s stuck.

He’s been so busy, both with the shop and the electrifying effect the thought of Talulah seemed to have on him as he every so often found his thoughts drifting to her, her cheery voice and that cheeky smile–one he knew she was supporting while on the phone–so he really didn’t have time to overthink about his reunion with Gemma. See, typically, every time a reunion was due, he felt anxious. Not necessarily because he would see his sister– he did miss her, of course he did. As much as he tried to play the whole “busy” card, trying to kid himself into thinking that because he was so busy, he didn’t have time to miss his family, he still did. When it was Christmas, or his birthday– or his mum or Gemma’s birthday, he found himself feeling unbelievably empty, especially as soon as his head hit the pillow.

So, yes, he was anxious. He knew both him and Gemma had skeletons in their closet, both of them loved hiding and ignoring each other as much as they could, but neither of them could deny that they missed each other. Unbelievably so. He felt anxious though, because Harry despised silence, especially when he knew they had something to say, but were too nervous to do so.

So, when he parks his car in Palomar’s car park, he feels his heart starting to beat faster than usual. He gets out, and spots the familiar white car once again, and his hands suddenly feel extremely clammy at the thought of seeing his sister for the first time in God knows when. He walks to the entrance, eyes already darting from table to table, trying to spot the brunette. His search is interrupted when a waiter approaches him. He gives his sister’s name and he’s being escorted to a table at the far back.

She hears the footsteps and Harry sees her shoulders tense as she tries so hard not to turn her head, though Harry unfortunately doesn’t get the time to stop for a moment to collect himself before he faces her as their waiter insists on accompanying him until he literally sits his arse down. She then proceeds to place two menus in front of him. With shaky fingers touching the edge of the menu, he and Gemma make eye contact, and he hears her order him a glass of red.

He keeps staring at her with neither of them talking, and he notices how long her hair’s gotten since the last time he’d seen her. Her cheekbones and jaw seem more prominent now, lips even plumper and her face in general looks shiny– glowing even, like she’s the healthiest she’s ever been. With red cheeks, she places her elbows on the table, and Harry knows she’s ready.

“You look good,” she says, and Harry feels his eyes sting, tears threatening to fall with the way her voice sounds a bit like his mother’s.

Harry nods subconsciously, fingers playing with the corners of the menu as she looks at him with an anticipating gaze.

“You look good, too.”

When he’s got his own glass of wine in front of him and their food is finally ordered, Gemma looks at him a beat longer than necessary, though there’s nothing hostile about it.

“Happy belated birthday, also. I was really looking forward to seeing you,” she says, reaching for her wine, Harry copying her instantly as they both take a sip.

The wine burns Harry’s throat, tongue suddenly feeling like it weighs tons and he wishes for a cold glass of water. “Yeah,” he nods. “Sorry about that. Something came up. Thanks for meeting with me tonight, though.”

Gemma lets out a breathless chuckle, her fringe shaking with the movement. “Oh, of course. You’re my brother. I missed you.”

There, Harry thinks. For the last fifteen minutes, they both seemed to tiptoe around each other, both radiating uncertainty with their hesitant gaze. It seems though Gemma was the first one that found the missing puzzle piece, and as soon as the piece is where it belongs, the conversation seems to pick up, both now seemingly more comfortable around each other.

Harry can’t help but smile. “I did too. What have you been up to?”

“Got a promotion” she says with a glint in her eyes, one Harry hasn’t seen in a while. He watches as she takes another sip. “I’m the logistics manager now.”

“Really? That’s wonderful, congratulations, Gems. You still with the same company?”

She talks about her job, then mentions her boyfriend­–whom she’d been with for three–, then she mentions how she’s looking to move soon, as soon as she possibly can. The conversation flows, of course it does, because she’s his family. She’s his sister, the one who let him sleep in her bed for weeks when things were bad. She held his hand even when she acted all grown-up and carried two different colour lip glosses everywhere because that’s what grown-ups would do.

They were best friends, until they weren’t.

There was no hostility, obviously, but after their mother’s death, they seemed to drift apart, their individual baggage and guilt eating them alive while they mostly ignored each other’s feelings and tiptoed around each other until one of them cracked.

Gemma asks about Harry’s job, the shop and Bo, demands that he shows him a picture, and Harry scrolls through numerous pictures of the Labrador on his phone with one hand as the other is busy with the spoon in his hand while he eats his souffle. Upon seeing a few pictures of Bo–most of them blurry and silly–Gemma begins tearing up, cooing at the screen softly before she looks up at him through long eyelashes and mutters out how much she misses him which of course ends with Harry inviting her over for a cuppa so she can see Bo before she leaves.

They drive separately, with Gemma having to drive home afterwards, and Harry lets her park in his usual space as he parks somewhere else, then ushers them inside the building. As soon as Bo notices Gemma, he perks up, scoffing once before he struts quickly towards her as he ignores Harry completely. It makes him smile, seeing Gemma on her knees as Bo circles around her with happy whines until Gemma lets out a laugh and pinches his face, bringing him closer to her so she can press their foreheads together before she leaves a big kiss on his furry head.

When they finally settle on Harry’s sofa, mugs in hands and bourbon biscuits placed between them, Gemma gives him a look, and Harry knows.

“Go on,” Harry nods, and brings his mug to his lips, though he just lets the steam touch his cold lips.

She looks thirteen again, squirming in the backseat of their car, trying to tell their mother she’d just had her first kiss.

“Dad,” she starts, and the word sends a shiver down his spine. Gemma watches him get his other hand around his mug in hopes of hiding the shake of them. “He’s selling the house.”

“How do you know?”

“He called,” she ignores the disappointment in his eyes. “I didn’t answer at first, then he messaged me. I had to get back to him. That’s not the point, Harry– we’re not best friends just because I answered his phone call,” she takes a deep breath and places the mug on the coffee table. They maintain eye contact for a few more minutes until she says, “I want you to buy it.”

“You– are you out of your mind? You want me to buy a house? His house?”

She shakes her head vigorously and tries to get closer to him on the sofa, as if it would make her point more sensible. “It’s our house, H. He’s once again trying to make money off of us. We can buy it together– get a loan or a mortgage. I have a friend who knows someone. Someone who knows about houses.”

“I don’t know. Why do you want to buy the house? You’ve a house. I have my flat. I don’t have that kind of  money at the moment– I don’t want to have to deal with the bank now that I finally feel secure.”

“I don’t want him to make money!”

“It’s not just about you,” he sighs. “You’re asking me to buy a fucking house. We’re not buying a necklace. It’s a house.”

“Think about it,” Gemma says assertively. It’s the voice she uses whenever she wants to convince you of something, and Harry, now in his twenties, finds it extremely annoying. “Say you'll consider it. I don’t think anyone will make any offers anytime soon which gives us some time.”

“Gemma…”

“Come on, Harry. Does it hurt to consider it– to think about it?”

Harry lets out a laugh, though he’s not happy, not at all. “Yes,” he cries. “Yes, it bloody does. It hurts my brain. You know how much I hate him. You know how hard I try to forget about his existence and yet,” he shakes his head.

“That house is ours, H. I have memories– we have memories there. Part of me is incomplete, because he lives there and now he’s selling it to God knows who. Someone else will have our house–”

“–You don’t get it, do you? That’s not our house anymore. You left before me, Gemma. It’s been years– let it go. Stop fucking with the past, I want nothing to do with that man and that house.”

“Our memories–”

Harry lets out a puff of air. “Mine’s never been good,” his voice gets thicker, hoarse, and low. “Do you think I miss the playroom? Or the bathtub? The tree house we never had? What is it that you miss, Gemma? Do you want to buy the house because of the memories or you want it because you want to get him back?” he stands up, head suddenly feeling too heavy, like he’s not going to be able to carry it longer, and he reaches for her mug without looking at the brunette. “Either way, I won’t be able to help you. I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

When he comes back from the kitchen, Bo following in tow looking for non-existent snacks that might’ve fallen to the floor, Gemma looks like she’s ready to leave. She’s got her signature frown on her face, making her face look even slimmer, and longer, and for the first time in a while, Harry’s gaze focuses on the lines on her face. Ones on her forehead, now more apparent with the way she’s frowning, and the ones by her mouth. They were getting older, they were changing, but Gemma didn’t seem to like that very much. She always wanted to hold onto the past, hold whatever memory she could fit in the palm of her hands, not wanting them to flee before she could take a good look at said memories and spare ones that she liked the most.

With pursed lips, she gets up on her feet. “Right,” she mumbled, though Harry thinks she’s talking more to herself rather than him. “I’m just gonna go… please,” she looks up again, and their eyes meet. “I want you to think about it. Just– say you will. Even if you won’t.”

“Okay, Gemma.”

He doesn’t even follow her. When the door clicks shut, he can’t help but let his legs surrender and plonk him on the sofa, hands coming to rest on his knees as he rubs his temples.

It wasn’t fair. He tries to think back, to see if he was being irrational earlier, shutting her down so easily. Gemma always liked to do things her way. According to her, she knew the best, and her way was exactly it: the best. She put herself first and while that was something Harry admired growing up, she started applying it at any given chance which usually ended up with her coming off as selfish.

He sighs, hand coming to rest atop Bo’s head who’s perched on the sofa, and looks around for his phone. When he’s got it in his hand, he opens the messages, and finds Talulah’s name.

Hey :)

He figures it’s good enough of a text. He doesn’t expect her to respond right away, and he knew she had her ‘read’ receipts off. So, instead of waiting around for her text, he decides to daydream.

He thinks back to their conversation from earlier, when she rang the shop and tried ordering flowers, for Harry, and the way she giggled and laughed whenever Harry said something silly. The way her voice sounded on the phone, so lovely and familiar, warming Harry’s insides and putting a sheepish grin on his face. Though, Harry would be lying if he said he saw it coming.  Talulah was unpredictable; Harry never knew what she was up to, meaning he sometimes felt lost, trying to make sense of Talulah’s emotions. This wasn’t to say that he thought she wasn’t genuine. Far from it. He knew she treasured honesty, considering the landslide that was her mother and the ex, thus he couldn’t imagine Talulah ever being dishonest, or sneaky on purpose. Or perhaps, something in Harry mutters quietly–so quiet that Harry himself doesn’t even hear–he gave her too much credit.

She responds after seven minutes, when Harry’s filling up Bo’s bowl, and he asks if he could ring, to decide on a date for their date they both mentioned earlier when she rang the shop. She tells him she would call in ten, and Harry agrees, hands already shaking with the anticipation of getting to hear her voice for the second time today. They talk. It lasts for five minutes and thirty-two seconds, because Talulah says she needs to do her food shopping before Tesco Express down the road closes so he lets her go, bids her good night, and ‘sweet dreams’. Though, as soon as she mentions her food shopping, Harry, as foolish as it sounds, can’t help but imagine going food shopping with her, wandering around Tesco as they both pick unnecessary items just for the sake of it so they can try them together. He doesn’t know whether the overly-domestic thoughts–daydreams–are reserved only for Talulah or if he’s just touch-starved, begging to be loved and cared for.  

++

Harry tries reaching the top shelf of the freezer, but nothing changes, the ice lolly still chilling next to a bag of frozen peas as his tiny fingers wave in the air as if the ice lolly would relent under his sweet puppy eyes and move towards the edge for his convenience. At last, he gives up and stands in front of the fridge with hands on his hips, a frown on his face, and he hears his mother’s laugh, signalling she’s still on the phone to Nana Doris. Then a bang follows, which lets him know his dad is still trying to fix the hinges on their toilet door.

With one last look at the ice lolly, he shuts the door to the freezer and walks to the living room, then steals a glance at his dad working on the wooden door, a cigarette between his lips and a crease in between his eyebrows. He’s got his phone squished between his cheek and shoulder, and Harry wonders how adults can balance their phones in such position without dropping their phones. Before he can inspect further, his dad’s eyes find his and they hold each other’s gaze for a moment before he hangs up, and puts the bulky device in his back pocket.

“Come here,” he calls from where he’s standing by the toilet door, tools still in hand with an expression Harry can’t quite read on his face. Harry comes closer, hands behind his back, his dad says, “Did you and the boys give Connor a hard time today?”

Harry feels the sweat running down his back, and suddenly, as embarrassing as he knows it is, his bladder feels extremely full. He proceeds to gulp, and he tries to maintain the eye contact despite the fiery look in his dad’s eyes.

He shakes his head, “No,” he mumbles, voice laced with nothing but fear and worry. “No,” he repeats for good measure when his dad takes another hefty drag of his cigarette, then blows the smoke in his face. Harry doesn’t flinch.

“Come closer. Don’t lie to me, you little shit,” he reaches for Harry, and Harry lets him take his arm and drag him closer to him. “Connor’s dad called. He went home with bruises all over him. Told them you little bastards gave him a hard time after school.”

“I didn’t touch him.”

“That’s not what he said.”

“Dad, I swear, I didn’t touch Connor. He’s lying, I didn’t touch him at all, dad– I didn't, I swear.”

He squeezes Harry by the wrist, then he feels a throbbing pain. “I’m so sick of your shit,” he lets go of Harry’s arm, but before he can let out the breath he’s been holding, Harry feels something sharp and stinging on his naked shoulder.

It doesn’t last long– only a mere second before the sharp pain is gone, leaving behind a burning sensation on his shoulder. He looks up with doe eyes, finds his dad’s unforgiving gaze, and when he looks at his hands, he spots the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, winking at him as if to boast about his previous antics being pressed against Harry’s bare shoulder.

Dates are overrated.

Or perhaps, that’s what Harry keeps telling himself because he’s practically shitting himself.

Going on dates with Talulah, it was amazing, spending time with her and talking about nothing and everything… it truly didn’t matter where they chose to go; Harry always had the time of his life whenever he was in her company. It was easy with her– familiar for reasons unknown to him, he just couldn’t put his finger on it, why she seemed so different from anyone he’s ever dated or been with.

As he washes his hair, he thinks back to his last relationship. Loren was lovely. But, to this day, Harry thinks he shouldn’t have let his friend talk him into going on a date with her, who was a friend of a friend of a friend. Sure, she was gorgeous, he would never deny that. And she was funny, she was kind. But the timing was never right. Or perhaps, that’s what he kept telling himself because he was just too afraid of hurting people, and maybe, just maybe, she was the wrong person all along.

Harry was a perfectionist. He liked planning things ahead and knowing his schedule word by word. So, when Loren came around, it meant making sacrifices–as one does in relationships–and Harry thinks, at the time, he was just not ready for that. His priority at the time had been on making Wild at Heart happen, taking an idea in his head and bringing it to life. It was a tough few years, even before Loren, and Harry usually felt on edge, sleepless and head all over the place. And when all Loren wanted to talk about was having a family, Harry couldn’t help but, though selfish, end things between them.

Yes, he finds himself thinking, it was a bit selfish because no one actually forced him to go out with her. He met her at that restaurant, and he said yes to another date. He enjoyed his time with her, and he liked her. But, Harry shakes his head at the thought, that was it.

He looks out the window, now completely dressed and hands in his hair trying to make it look like he didn’t spend much time on it when he knows that’s far from reality. There’s an elderly couple, with their hands intertwined as they walk their dog, and it makes him smile, hands paused in the air. It’s beginning to get dark out despite it being mid-February, so he tries to hurry up, knowing there’s not much time left and that he still needs to pick Talulah up from her flat before driving to their destination and finally meet Ben and his boyfriend there.

When he arrives at Talulah’s flat, parked and all alert as he waits for her to come down, he can’t help but feel a pang of sadness in his chest, knowing how they’ve yet to mention the wedding or talked about it since. He knows they need to mention it, talk about it, but he feels nervous asking as he knows it’s such a delicate topic and it’s something that would upset her. Despite all that, he knows he has to ask when it’s just the two of them and they’re somewhere Talulah feels comfortable and safe.

He notices a splash of colour from the corner of his eye, something vibrant amongst all the grey and brown of the buildings, and it’s Talulah with her green trousers and her big, cosy coat– one that looks as happy and content as Harry would if he too was wrapped around her body. She walks to the other side of the car with a smile on her face when she finally notices Harry staring, and the car fills with the smell of vanilla and citrus as soon as she steps foot inside, taking her place on the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Harry beats her to it, leans forward for a kiss on the cheek. “Y’look very pretty,” the words leave his mouth, every syllable hitting her cheek with the hushed tone of his voice.

She smiles, eyes closing as she does so, and Harry feels her cold hand on his cheek, thumb pressing ever so gently to his dimple. It’s a ‘thank you’, he knows it by now, though the touch, despite her cold fingertips, doesn’t feel any less exciting and exhilarating on his skin, almost burning his flesh and consuming it as her eyes wander across his face.

They arrive, both their cheeks warm with the heat from inside the car as they step out of it, and without thinking, Harry reaches for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers as they walk inside the building. It’s comfortable, and neither of them stop to look at their fingers like they do in the films, though Harry sees Talulah smile from the corner of his eye while she taps on her phone, with one hand, trying to reach Ben to see if they’re around. They wait for them to enter the building with their hands still intertwined, and Harry squeezes once so she turns to him, eyebrows raised but the tiny smile still present on her face.

“What?” She laughs when Harry doesn’t say anything, and squeezes his hand back. “You’re such an attention seeker, you know?”

The challenge makes him smile, as if his mouth did anything other than smiling when she’s around, and he takes a tiny step closer to her body. Foreheads almost touching, he whispers, “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

“All right, we’re in public.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You’re being all–” she waves her free hand around. “–All whisper-y and stuff.”

“And stuff?”

“Har-ry.”

Cheeks hurting from all the smiling, he lifts up his head and he catches two men walking towards them, their hands intertwined just like theirs. “Is that Ben?”

Talulah looks up as well, turning to the direction Harry’s looking at. “Yes,” she nods, hand squeezing Harry’s once more. “Ben and Luke.”

They walk into their comfortable bubble with a smile on their faces, and the first thing Harry notices about Luke is how tall he is compared to Ben, making him look almost pocket-size.

Ben looks between the two, though the smile on his face remains. “Sorry, are we late?” He says, and a chuckle leaves his mouth when Talulah lets go of Harry’s hand and wraps her arms around Ben.

Harry watches as they sway back and forth, and can’t help the smile that appears on his face at the sight. He then remembers Luke.

“I’m Harry.” he smiles at him.

Luke returns it, and they greet each other with a handshake.

“Luke.”

“So,” Ben squeezes Talulah one last time before pushing her into Harry’s side, eyes full of mischief as he looks them up and down. “Bowling?”

As they begin playing, with Ben going first– followed by Talulah, Harry asks about Luke’s job and how long Ben and him had been together. He learns that Luke is a bit shy at first, though when he mentions their new kitten Bobbart –what an interesting name, Harry thinks– Luke seems to get more comfortable around him. He talks about the cat with happiness shining through his eyes and when they sit back down after their turns, they take turns showing each other pictures of their pets.

Ben clears his throat after Luke wins and turns to them with a smug smile. “We’re a team anyway,” he says, eyes never leaving his boyfriend’s tall frame who’s doing a happy dance. “We’re partners. Pardners.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Ben.”

“It is. Gays always win.”

“I hate playing anything with you,” Talulah sighs, throwing herself on the seat next to Harry, their knees touching briefly. “You always do this,” she places her hand on Harry’s knee, squeezing before Harry’s hand finds hers, thumb stroking her warm skin.

“I’m kinda hungry,” Luke comes up from behind Ben, arm wrapping around him like the touch is a routine for them. “Shall we have a bite here or?”

“I’m hungry, too.”

Harry looks at Talulah and without much thought, he places his hand on her cheek, thumb stroking her cheekbone softly as he nods.

“We can eat here if you all want to, I don’t mind.”

“Okay, let’s,” Ben says, gaze lingering on Harry and Talulah a beat longer.

In a bold move, Talulah places her hand on Harry’s leg as she chews, the heat of Harry’s leg–and his presence in general–warming up her own skin; from her hand to the top, the warmth reaching her face, cheeks, and every living cell in her body. Harry responds in his own way, and places his own hand on hers, squeezing once before he turns her way and gives her a smile. It’s so sweet, being in his presence, and not just his but in her friends’ presence– it all means so much to her that she suddenly feels all choked up, eyes tearing up despite the sour smell of food and other fragrances in the air.

As the waiter collects their empty plates, Talulah notices Harry’s attention shifting from their table to somewhere behind where Ben and Luke are seated. Naturally, she follows his gaze, and stops at a blonde and another lady, whose for a short second she feels jealous of, her smooth skin and dark features looking perfect under the fluorescent lights. When they make eye contact, she turns her attention back to the blonde. It’s obvious when the blonde notices them, because a barely-there smile appears on her face, and she lifts up her arm in a poor-attempt of a wave– clearly directed at the man who’s been eyeing her: Harry.

“Do you know her?” Talulah chooses to ask, voice hushed as if she’s letting him in on a secret.

Harry turns to her, clearly unaware of Talulah watching him for a while now, and he nods. Before he can open his mouth though, they both notice the woman standing up, fixing her skirt before she begins walking towards them ever-so-slowly, as if she deliberately wants them–and everyone else in the room–to watch her do it.

“She’s my ex.”

“Oh,” she mutters, eyes falling to her lap. “Okay.”

She doesn’t notice how close the woman is until she feels it. Her tall figure stands at their table, a bashful smile on her face as Talulah watches, growing angry as the seconds pass.

The blonde finally speaks.

“Hi.”

Ben and Luke are clearly confused, though they don’t make a sound as they watch the woman, whose gaze keeps darting between Harry and Talulah, and it makes her feel like a caged animal.

“Hi, Loren,” Harry nods, and smiles–not exactly–. “How are you?”

“I’m good. It’s good to see you again… hi,” she nods at Talulah, then Ben and Luke, though theirs last no longer than a second. She turns to Talulah again. “I’m Loren.”

But before she can do or say anything else, Harry clears his throat, turns to Talulah with a brief smile before looking back up to Loren.

“These are my– friends, Ben, Luke, and Talulah.”

Well, I see.

“Nice meeting you guys,” Loren nods, clearly not feeling the distress and confusion Talulah is feeling at the moment. “Just wanted to say hi. I’ll–” she nods at their drinks. “–Leave you guys to it. See you around… Harry.”

“Yeah– see ya.”

The air shifts around the four of them, Ben’s eyes finding Talulah’s as they make a conversation with their eyes while Luke chooses to focus on his burger. Meanwhile, Talulah notices Harry shift uncomfortably in his seat, clearly trying to find a better position as if he’s sat on something; something sharp, something knifelike. She doesn’t turn to him though. Instead, she reaches for her cocktail, takes a tiny sip before deciding to go all the way, and takes a big gulp of the orange drink, then clears her throat without intending to.

As if on cue, Ben starts talking.

“Did Luke show you Bobbart?” He asks, the question directed at Harry more than Talulah. “He climbs everything now but can’t get down. He’s so stupid.”

“Can we go? I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

The sudden remark makes everyone turn to her, Ben’s lips pursed as Luke crumples yet another napkin into a ball, then leaves it in his now nearly-empty plate. Harry, there’s something so alert and vigilant in the way he’s looking at her, eyes almost too wide while his mouth is turned downwards into a tiny, barely-there frown.

He looks at Ben for a moment, as if he senses the tension as well as the protective glances sent Talulah’s way, then turns back to her and says, “Are you okay?”

Is she, really? No.

“Yes.”

“Okay… we can go if you want–”

“–I want.”

And that’s that.

It’s quarter to eleven when Harry parks his Mini in front of her flat, both their cheeks warm from the AC in the car, and it’s not until Talulah opens the passenger door that her brain fills with fresh air, oxygen finally–whether it be scientifically true or not–reaching the part that needs it the most.

Harry follows her and gets out of the car, locking it before his eyes follow hers, as if to ask if he’s allowed to do that; invite himself in. And he is, he so is, Talulah thinks, though she still feels guilt for letting her guard down even after being friend-zoned by this very charming man. They stand there, on the pavement for a moment before she swallows, and begins walking towards the stairs that lead to her flat. He follows quietly, as if to stop himself from frightening her with his not-so-assertive footsteps, and they’re finally inside, in the warmth of her flat.

He watches as she takes her shoes off and sets them aside, her coat and bag following close behind before she makes her way further inside, not even glancing back at him to see if he’s following. She realises it takes him a bit to take his own shoes off, then his jacket, and he’s finally in her space again as the kettle boils, letting out a shrill sound when it’s done.

“Making tea,” she mumbles. “Milk’s in the fridge, help yourself.”

“Are you–” Harry takes a hesitant step forward, hand somehow in the air as if he’s trying to reach her– both physically, and emotionally. “–What’s wrong?”

It’s funny, she thinks, how he doesn’t even get it, why she’s so hesitant and silent all of a sudden, and deep inside, she wants to be angry– feel it burning inside her and light her up like a campfire.

She takes the kettle off the hob and pours the water into their mugs, then walks away from him, silently offering him the luxury of pouring his own. He follows her after a moment, his own tea in hand, and he stands in the middle of her living room and Talulah thinks he’s trying to decide whether to take the seat closest or further away from her, depending on her. Past memories of her on her knees, in front of him on that sofa–where she’s seated–pops up in Talulah’s head for a second before Harry decides it’d be much safer if he just chose the armchair nearby.

“Talulah,” Harry says, placing his mug on a coaster.

“Yes?”

“What’s going on?”

“Are we friends, Harry?” She asks bitingly.

“What?”

A breath leaves her mouth, one that was intended to be a bitter laugh. “Don’t worry.”

Harry grows nervous, and confused by the look of his raised eyebrows.

“No, tell me. Talk to me.”

“I am. I am talking to you.”

He shakes his head, tea forgotten on the table in front of them while Talulah sips hers. “You’re not, though. You’re not being open–”

“–Oh save me that therapist bullshit, Harry. I’m not in the mood.”

“And what makes you think I am?”

“I didn’t think we were best friends. Buds. Mates. I thought you liked me. I obviously liked you– in a non-friends way. Thought that was clear when I sucked your cock.”

The words almost make him flinch, clearly not expecting such language at this moment, but he recovers quickly.

“I like you. Are you out of your mind? Of course I like you.”

“You told your ex I was a friend. That’s like,” she takes another sip, the warmth reaching her insides as she shakes her head briefly. “The first rule in the book.”

“What book is that?”

“The ‘you like each other and you’re more than friends even though you don’t have a title’ book. Are you embarrassed? Or still hung up on her?”

It’s Harry’s turn to let out a breath. “Are you serious?”

“I am,” and, she thinks, for the first time in my life, I am making that clear.

She doesn’t expect him to get up from where he’s sitting, and walk up to her on the sofa. What she also doesn’t expect is when he sits down, harshly so, and pulls her into him from the back of her head and presses their lips in a both mouth and heart bruising kiss that takes her breath away.

She can’t do anything but respond, pressing harder into his side as they kiss, Harry’s tongue swiping across her lips before he pulls away, then peppers tiny kisses all over her mouth, as if he’s trying to comfort her. She doesn’t need comfort, or maybe she does, but what she mostly needs is another bruising kiss and maybe some more.

He presses their foreheads together.

“You can’t just kiss me and shut me up.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he whispers, his tea-breath hitting her face, but it feels warm– lovely. “And in the most perfect way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re so stubborn, and you’re so lovely. I like you. So much. I told you, didn’t I?”

She’s not giving up easily. “Why did you introduce me as a friend? Especially in front of my friends, making me look like a twat. A joke.”

Harry shakes his head immediately. “You’re never a joke… Loren is– she’s not the type of person I would like to share you with.”

“Again,” Talulah sighs, forehead starting to feel too warm– too fucking warm and damp for her liking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s weird. She’s become weird, I mean, after the breakup. I like you. I don’t eat my friends out–” that makes her cheeks warm up. “–I don’t kiss my friends like this. I don’t want to share you– us, with someone like Loren. She’s not in my life. Don’t want her to be in my life.”

“Still, that made me feel like shit.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry– I didn’t think how that would make you feel and I should have. It was very silly of me to introduce you as my friend.”

“Yeah…”

“I really am, T, I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me?”

“Yes. I can. If you kiss me some more?”

Harry smiles, pressing their foreheads harder before he kisses the tip of her nose, then her cupid’s bow before finally pressing his dampened lips to hers. It’s sweet, and much gentle this time, and it makes something awaken in the pit of her stomach. She brings her palm up to his chin and rubs the stubble there before finding the back of her neck, pressing harder into him as she responds with enthusiasm. Harry stops for a moment just to press tiny kisses all over her mouth, on the same spot once or twice, then they’re kissing again, and again, and again.

She pulls away first, taking a deep breath, then looks him dead in the eye. “I want to suck your cock.”

“You’re killing me.”

“I do. Do you?”

Harry lets out a low whine, hand still on her neck. “Are you for real? Are you even real? Do I– I get hard just thinking about you… your lips, your face…”

“All right, cowboy, save that for our wedding vows. Now,” she takes his hand, and places it on his side. “I’m gonna suck your cock.”

Harry watches her get on her knees with a glint in her eyes, almost teary, and it makes him growl into the comfortable silence of her flat while she bites her lip, trying to unbutton his trousers. He helps her with shaky hands and trembling fingers, sliding both his trousers and underwear down, letting them pool around his ankles as she just sits there, resting on her heels. His cock, half-hard, rests on his hairy thighs as he watches her watch him with hunger in her eyes, and he reaches there, hesitantly, and takes his cock in his hand.

It’s obvious she likes it, likes watching him touch himself, so he continues stroking himself, taking his time to rub his tip and the precum there before he reaches and strokes her neck with his other hand.

“So fucking lovely, you are,” he touches his balls, whining into the still air around them, the feeling making him feel hot all over. “Love watching and sucking, don’t you?”

With her bottom lip trapped behind her teeth, she nods. “Yes.”

“Bet you’re so wet…”

“Please make me suck your cock. I need it– choke me…”

“Fuckin’ hell. You’re so good, how did I get this lucky, hm?”

“Do I deserve it?”

He thumbs at his slit again, the precum still oozing out as his cock and balls begin to feel so tight– so warm, so he comes to the edge of his seat on the sofa, clearly ready for her mouth to just take him in.

He whines at her previous comment nevertheless. “Do you deserve it? Of course, you do, sweet girl. Deserve it so much and I’m gonna give it to you.

And then, “Come,” he whispers. “Take it.”

As if on cue, she opens her mouth, but doesn’t move for a moment, eyes still wide as she watches his hard cock. Tongue darts out first, then she leans forward and takes him into her mouth. It’s warm, the insides of her mouth feeling so fucking nice around his cock that it makes him cry out, a hiss more like, and she suckles at the head, her slippery tongue gliding so perfectly across the pink, wet tip.

She hums around him, taking him deeper and deeper as she begins sucking, head bobbing up and down.

“Y’like it, don’t you?”

“Mhm.”

“God– T. I fucking– oh my God.”

He can’t say anything else after that, other than cries and hisses following close behind his moans as she keeps sucking, teeth coming out to play once or twice, very gently– just the way he likes it. She wraps her hand around him to help suck more efficiently while the other finds his balls, fumbling with them and squeezing, making him groan at the tight feeling. He wants to cum, but he loves the view. Loves watching her saliva drip down her chin, to his thighs as she keeps sucking and licking, and loves seeing her enjoy something as dirty as this– something so private and just for them.

“Can I cum– in your mouth,” he manages to choke out the words, but she shakes her head, letting go of his cock just enough for her to mumble out the sacred words.

“Cum on my face.”

“Fuck. Are you sure?”

“Mmh.”

She takes him into her mouth again, and she goes deeper this time, surprising both herself and him when she doesn’t choke as his tip touches the very end of her throat, making him mumble out a chocked ‘fuck’, eyes beginning to tear up again as she holds him there for a moment longer before she begins sucking again. He grabs her by the chin and helps her take him out, and she watches with eyes glinting under the soft lights as he paints her face with long, white stripes, his cum covering her lips, nose and even her cheekbone while she sits still with tongue out and eyes closed.

It’s a Godly sight, and Harry thinks he might be in love.

“It’s your turn,” Harry says, putting some more rice into his mouth.

She puts her spoon back into her bowl, the metal laying perfectly against the mess of her food–chicken tikka masala–and lets out a ‘mmm’.

“Okay,” she nods. “First celebrity crush? Make it saucy.”

Harry laughs. “Justin Timberlake. Not that saucy I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I love that. Mine was Sandy from SpongeBob. Sorry?” She winces, though Harry laughs still. “Anyway. Your turn again.”

They’re sitting on the floor, on Talulah’s favourite cushions, eating their food as Yellow House’s ‘Love in the Time of Socialism’ plays softly in the background. ‘I am  home whenever you are near’, it sings softly, ‘there’s no life in anything when you’re not here’.

Harry smiles at her softly, not saying anything even after the nod she gave his way. His gaze is soft, so soft and kind that it feels like a warm blanket over her, so she reaches with her spoon and touches the tip of his nose as if he would understand her secret language. From the looks of it, Harry does, dimples deepening and smile becoming even wider at the gesture.

“Okay,” he nods, mumbling softly when she looks at him expectantly. “What would you be if not a photographer?”

“Oh, probably a trophy wife.”

“No way.”

“Or a teacher.”

“Way better. First kiss?” He bites into his chicken, then takes some more rice.

“Hey,” she quips. “It was my turn.”

“You can have two turns after this.”

“Nicholas O’Connell. Aged thirteen. He nearly broke my teeth.”

Her face makes him laugh, and he laughs harder when she winces. “Hope you don’t make that face when thinking about our kisses.”

“Never.”

“Good.”

“What’s your favourite sex positon?” She asks, an all-knowing smile appearing on her face.

She looks younger like that, he thinks, and it makes him smile, despite the cheeky question.

“So it’s like that, huh?”

“Answer my question!”

“Okay, uh… this will make me sound so boring, but, doggy.”

“I knew it,” she reaches and flicks him on the chest. “Ask every guy the same question, they will say the same thing.”

His eyebrows raise in question. “That a bad thing?”

“No. I like doggy.”

He grins into his spoon. “Good to know.”

“Mhm. Okay, it’s still my turn. Into threesomes or not– wait,” she shouts. “Changing my question: ever had a threesome?”

“Nope. And to answer your not-question question, I’m not bothered, I guess. I’m a jealous person– I don’t know if I could share you like that.”

They both stop for a moment, Harry’s spoon still in the air, and he only now realises what he’d just said.

Thinking back to their untitled-relationship, Harry doesn’t think what he said to be odd. Though he doesn’t know, or can pinpoint the exact time he started including Talulah in his future plans, if that.

“I feel the same,” she whispers, a tiny smile appearing on her face.

And it means a lot.

When they’re standing side by side in her tiny kitchen, Harry helping with loading the washing machine, Harry presses a tiny kiss to her dimple, and it’s so warm and lovely it makes them both smile, and Talulah comes closer, forehead pressing to the crook of his neck.

“Have you spoken to your mum,” Harry asks, and he sort of regrets asking, doesn’t want to frighten or make her upset, but she doesn’t seem to care all that much.

She shakes her head. “Don’t really feel like it to be honest. I want to focus on work. And you.”

“And me, yes. I like that.”

“You do, do you…”

“Come here,” he brings his arms around her and engulfs her in a hug, pressing her face in the crook of his neck. “You’re brilliant.”

“Oh, shush,” her hair tickles the side of his neck when she shakes her head. “You’re lovely,” She pulls away. “Bo. How’s Bo?”

“Bo’s splendid. He would love it if you visited sometime.”

“Just him?”

He clears his throat in a joking manner, reaching for yet another glass in the sink as they continue their work. “I myself,” he nods. “And Bo– would love it if you visited.”

“Better.”

“Thank you.”

She nods, and grabs the glass from him. “You’re welcome.”

“Hey, how’s Zayn?”

“Oh. He’s fine. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it but he and his fiance were kinda taking a break–” she nods when he raises his eyebrows. “They’re apparently working on each other, that’s what he said this morning. At least they’re sleeping in the same bed again now.”

“That’s rough.”

“Eh. I think they’ll get through it, you know?”

Harry nods, watching as she leans forward to fix a knife in the washing machine. “Yeah, hope so. Zayn’s nice.”

“He is. He thinks you’re nice as well.”

“I can cross that off my checklist then.”

“Freak. Come here,” she places her hands on his hips and brings him into a sweet kiss. “Mmm. You taste like curry.”

It makes him chuckle, but still kisses her lips for the second time anyway. “You do too, freak.”

Silence.

They work in silence, as comfortable as it can in the cramped space, and it’s almost as if their hearts are holding extra space in the small space, though neither of them seem to mind. Harry feels his chest tighten at the stillness of it all, the comfortable silence and the ease of it all. The warmth of their presence in each other’s space feels like the first rays of morning sunshine hitting your cold cheeks through a window as you sip your drink, thinking of nothing but the light that is seeping through the cracks and still shadows of furniture creating the perfect picture of a warm, cosy morning.

Before he can say anything, Talulah turns to him.

“I don’t think I ever want to see my mum. Like,” as the last spoon is placed in the washing machine, she grabs the tea towel by the side and wipes the counter. “Ever.”

“That’s valid,” Harry says, humming. “Very valid.”

“What even is my life? Breaks down at Mother’s wedding.”

Not knowing what to say, he just sighs, and rubs the side of her cheek with his thumb. She nods, at nothing in particular, though stays quiet for another minute as they stand at the sink.

She turns her back to the sink, leaning on the counter. “My ex asked me to marry him once.”

At the revelation–very irrelevant to the topic–, Harry feels himself grow jealous. “Dan?” He says, bitingly.

“Yeah,” pause. “I wasn’t ready. I still am not when it comes to something like that– and he just– yeah.” She turns to him, like breaking the fourth wall, and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I’m dumping all my trauma onto you. I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to do that.”

“Hey, no,” he presses a kiss to her chin, hand wrapping around her waist. “Please. You can talk to me. I’m okay with that.”

“It’s heavy shit. Frustrating.”

“I know– I don’t care. You can talk to me. Talulah– you’re not on your own, you know that right?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think you’re believing in that, when you say ‘yes’.”

“It’s just– I’m sorry.”

Harry shakes his head, despite her not looking at him. He squeezes her waist. “Don’t. You’ve nothing to apologise for. I’m here. With you– for you. Ben is here. Zayn… we all are.”

She looks up with a tiny smile. “And I’m here for you, too.”

“I know.”

“She should’ve just stayed away.”

“I know, baby. It’s not fair, you don’t deserve this.”

“I don’t want to see or talk to her,” she shrugs, like it’s no big deal. He knows it is. To her, it really is.

He sighs into her hair, pressing her body into him closer. “I know and I will try and make sure you never do. Okay?”

They stay like that for another minute, maybe even more before Talulah squeezes out of his embrace, only a little, to look up at him, to see him properly. They hold each other’s gaze until she speaks.

“I found a therapist,” she mumbles, voice low and eyes wavering. “I haven’t called yet. But, I found one.”

Harry nods, as if to let her know he’s listening, and to let her talk at her own pace. “Yeah?” He says after a beat when she doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah. Actually, Ben suggested it. It was something I always considered. Even went once or twice but– yeah.”

“And how do you feel about it now?” He doesn’t want to say anything wrong, or make her upset with the choice of words, so he just hopes it’s enough for now. “That’s really nice of Ben, as well.”

“I feel… I don’t know. Hopeful? For the first time in a while, actually,” she plays with the hem of Harry’s jumper, fingers shaky on the soft material. “I’m looking forward to it, if that makes sense.”

“It does! It makes me happy knowing that,” a kiss is pressed to her ear, making her giggle.

“So, yeah. I’ll try and call her tomorrow. See if I can get an appointment.”

“That’s great, baby.”

“Okay, enough about me–”

Harry places his thumb and index on her lips, squeezing in a joking manner. “–Never enough. Never ever– can never get enough of you.”

She whines. “Let’s put on a film and hope that Bo forgives me for holding you hostage.”

Harry leaves after five episodes of Friends, and Talulah goes to work with an uncontrollable smile on her face the next morning, smiling at nearly everyone who passes by as she sing-songs her ‘good morning’s’. That’s not to say she never talks to people at work, or outside, really. She just doesn’t seem, or look that enthusiastic at nine o’clock in the morning usually. It’s just Olive in the reception when she walks in, and they share a smile as Olive compliments her on her shoes before she’s ushered into the lift by Zayn, who looks like he’d been waiting in there for quite some time.

“Taking your sweet time, aren’t you,” he says, placing a cigarette behind his ear. “What’s going on, then?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. You look like you’ve had sex before you came in.”

That makes her gasp. “I didn’t have sex, stop being so… so nasty.”

“Yesterday, then.”

She doesn’t respond. One, it wasn’t… sex, she wants to quip, though she stays mute. And two, she did have something yesterday, and technically, you could count that as sex...ual.

“None of your business. Get out,” she murmurs, earning a grin from the tall man.

Zayn’s grin only widens when Talulah doesn’t meet his eyes. “You’re so full of shit. This is our floor.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Get out of here. So–”

“Oh my God, leave me alone, it's too early for this– for you,” she makes her way towards the kitchen area, her coffee cup in hand, ready to be prepared.

Zayn follows. “Harry, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Zayn. Now, get out of my way.”

“Okay.”

She rolls her eyes, hands reaching for her tin of instant coffee. “Am I with you today?” She asks, putting the kettle on.

“I have to check.”

“You don’t check your calendar before coming into work?”

“Sometimes.”

“Irresponsible.”

He doesn’t even flinch when he says, “I’ve heard worse. Hey,” he perks up. “Jules and I want to have you over for dinner soon. She insisted. You know how little I like your company.”

She smiles at the mention of Jules. “So, you guys are good?”

“Working on it… she thinks it’ll be nice. Having you around and shit.”

“I’m not playing your therapist, just saying.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Does tomorrow work? Or you’ve got another date planned with Harvey? Sex-date.”

“Harry. You said it right the first time, you muppet. And no. I don’t have a date with Harry tomorrow. I got my fix last night, unlike you… apparently.”

“Fuck off.”

MJ walks in with a large, steaming mug in hand, and gives them a nod. “Morning. I’m glad I found you both here,” he takes a large sip. “Zayn, Billie Piper will be here at ten o’clock instead of eleven. Talulah, I know it’s last minute but can you do Billie at ten, then join Farrah for her shoot with Lila Moss at one o’clock?”

She tries to visualise her timetable for the day. “I think so. I need to edit in a bit so I’ll try to finish until one– I think I can manage.”

“I would appreciate that,” MJ nods. “Sorry, it’s last minute. Greg fell and broke both legs–”

“–Oh my God.”

“He’s in the hospital, he’s fine… other than their legs. We’ll manage. Okay,” he takes a spoon from the rack. “I gotta run. See you guys in a bit.”

Zayn nods while Talulah mutters, “Bye.”

“I don’t even know who Lila Moss is.”

“She’s Kate Moss’ daughter,” Zayn says, taking the cigarette from behind his ear.

“Oh, wow. Okay. Don’t mention any of this to MJ. Or anyone for that matter.”

They make their way to the lifts, and Zayn presses the button to take them up to the roof for a cigarette before they start their work day. They’re both quiet, until Talulah speaks.

“You know,” she says. “I was thinking about getting a mortgage for a while– to buy a house, my flat,” she adds, and it’s all very sudden, the revelation of it all. “I decided against it. I don’t want to move out. I don’t want a big house– I don’t need that in my life right now.”

“Didn’t even know you were thinking about it,” Zayn hums. “What made you realise that?”

“I wanted it because everyone seemed to do so. I thought that was what you needed to do once you– you grew up, you know what I mean? I don’t need to follow in– in anyone’s steps. I earn enough and I’m fine with renting… for now.”

“You’re right,” Zayn nods, placing his hand on her waist, guiding her out of the lift, to the doors leading to the roof. “Mortgage stuff is frustrating. You don’t need that in your life right now. Your flat is nice. You could even rent another place, if you wanted to. Don’t need to buy a fucking house yet, T. Go at your own pace and all that, you know?”

“I know… I know. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Come, roll me one,” he gestures at her tobacco bag. “I’m in the mood for a nicotine coma.”

to be continued.

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[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 21}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Before Nesta even opened her eyes, she knew that she’d gotten some of the best sleep she’d had in months. She knew it was early, since Nyx hadn’t even woken them up for his morning bottle yet. Sighing comfortably, she settled deeper into her pillows, the weight of a heavy arm slung over her waist, pulling her in close.

With sudden clarity, she remembered the events of the night before. She remembered the damn kiss that had started it all. She remembered the orgasms Cassian had given her over and over. She remembered seeing something shining in his eyes that had nothing to do with lust or sex.

She was sure it was reflected in her own, but couldn’t work up the nerve to let herself think about what they’d done last night, what it may have implied. What lines they may have crossed.

And the fact that she really didn’t give a damn.

Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she was this happy, and as much as she tried to pretend it wasn’t thanks to the man sleeping soundly behind her, in her bed, she couldn’t lie to herself.

So she gently rolled over, careful not to wake him, and took in his sleeping face.

It was kind of funny.

Nesta had known Cassian for a while, for five years, and before that in passing, considering Feyre and Rhysand’s relationship. She had watched him age, had watched him grow from a young man into the man that had taken her the night before, but looking at him now…

There was an innocence about him when he slept.

He snored, quietly, completely unaware that she was awake, that she was watching him.

He was cute.

So, so cute.

If he awoke at that very moment and saw her watching him sleep, she would have surely been mortified, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, she couldn’t look away.

Memories from the night before flashed through her mind, and it only made her that much happier. She couldn’t remember the last time she had fallen asleep in a man’s arms, but with Cassian, she had fallen asleep peacefully, nearly instantly, and slept amazingly.

There was something about Cassian that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she knew that she liked it.

She dared to gently brush a kiss over his cheek, before carefully climbing out of bed, his heavy arm making that a much harder endeavor than she was expecting. But he slept on soundly, not even stirring as she slipped from beneath the sheets and hurried into her closet. She wasn’t embarrassed by her nakedness, not after everything that had happened last night, but she knew that if he caught her naked, they were likely to take far longer getting downstairs to start their morning.

Not that she would have minded, but she was pretty sure neglecting Nyx was not a good enough reason for sex.

No, she’d enjoy him again later, as thoroughly as he’d enjoyed her last night, if he was willing. And she had no doubt that he would be.

Tying her robe around her waist, Nesta slipped from the closet into her room, glancing to make sure Cassian was still fast asleep. His snore confirmed he was.

Her chuckle was quiet as she entered the hall, sneaking down a few doors and opening Nyx’s. He was still asleep, as well, and with a smile, Nesta cracked his door and quietly padded down the stairs.

The kitchen was still a mess, his half-smashed cake on the counter and their clothes strewn around the room. Blushing, she picked them up one by one and tossed them into the laundry room, before making Nyx a bottle and starting on some scrambled eggs for his breakfast.

She could hardly focus. She was constantly thinking about the man upstairs, still sleeping soundly in her bed. Mixing a little cheese into the eggs, she stirred the eggs up in the pan before dumping them directly onto Nyx’s high chair tray.

Last time they’d slept together, Cassian had made her breakfast and then they’d both agreed it would never happen again. Regardless of the fact that it very much had happened again, Nesta didn’t like the sinking feeling she felt in her heart when she thought about having to agree to that once more.

Staring at the ingredients she’d pulled out of the fridge, Nesta sighed and braced her hands on the counter in front of her.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that she had feelings for Cassian anymore. At some point, he’d gone from being a pain in her ass to the favorite part of her day. And that terrified her.

Letting him continue to sleep, she crept upstairs and gently woke Nyx up before he could start screaming, and carried him down to the kitchen, his sleepy head resting on her shoulder. He rubbed his eyes as she put him in his high chair, handing him the bottle, and she started working on their breakfast.

The entire time he ate, Nyx watched Nesta curiously, as if he knew something was up.

Maybe it was just her paranoia. Then again, he was Feyre and Rhysand’s kid and they were always snooping into Cassian and Nesta’s business.

Feyre and Rhysand.

Nesta bet they were pretty damn proud of themselves at the moment.

She heard him moving around upstairs and her heart began to beat a little bit faster. This was it, the moment of truth.

She cursed, all the while Nyx kept watching her as he stuffed his mouth with scrambled eggs.

Making herself busy at the stove, she quickly dropped some bacon into the hot skillet, sizzling filling the kitchen. Within seconds, a few pieces of bread were in the toaster, and she was rummaging through the refrigerator for the blackberry jam she knew he preferred.

Nyx’s babbling announced his arrival, and she turned to find Cassian standing behind his high chair, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. He picked up a small clump of eggs and popped it into his mouth, and Nyx angrily began talking at him, though the made up words were unintelligible.

“He doesn’t like to share,” she said, closing the fridge door with a hip.

Cassian grinned. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I worked up an appetite last night.”

Nesta’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “Is that so?”

Cassian nodded and walked toward her, slowly. Nesta remained still until he was standing just in front of her. “I have to confess that I was hoping you’d be there when I woke up this morning.”

Nesta stepped closer to him. “Breakfast and the baby called.”

Cassian scoffed and muttered, “Priorities.”

Nesta laughed quietly, but the sound was muffled by Cassian’s lips against hers.

It was almost instinct to lean into him, to smile against his lips. When she pulled back just a hair, his hazel eyes were bright. She whispered, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he breathed, his mouth still so close to hers.

She blushed, even though she couldn’t figure out why and turned to the stove. “I…wasn’t sure what to expect this morning.”

Cassian hesitated. “What did you think I’d do?”

Nesta sighed, scratching her head. “I don’t know. I thought you might act like it never happened. Or, you’d say it was only a one time thing like last time.”

Cassian cocked his head to the side. “Last time I didn’t sleep in your bed.”

“And that changes things?” Nesta asked, quietly.

“Last night changed things,” Cassian replied, brushing her hair back out of her face. “At least, for me it did.”

“Me too,” Nesta replied, without any hesitation.

Cassian’s eyes softened. “Nesta, I-.”

“NANANANANANANANA!”

They both spun around, where Nyx was watching them with the most precious of pissed off expressions. His tray was empty, practically licked clean, and Nyx was not having it.

Cassian chuckled as he took a banana out of the fruit basket and peeled it before cutting it up into slices. “He’s awfully full of it this morning, isn’t he?”

“I think he knows,” she said, rolling her eyes as she flipped the bacon. “Not specifically what happened, but he knows something is…different between us.”

He paused his cutting and turned back to her, pausing with a hip resting on the counter. “Good different or bad different?”

“Good different,” she said, smiling. She cracked a few eggs into a bowl and mixed them up with some milk. “Definitely good different.”

For a moment, Cassian didn’t say anything, but when she turned he was grinning. “Really good different?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” She turned back around. “But yes.”

“Good,” he breathed, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “What’ve you got going on today?”

“Work,” she said. “Seeing how the bar renovation is going. Looks like you’ll have to hire your replacement soon with how quickly everything is moving.”

Cassian groaned. “That’s the part I’m looking towards the least. I hate interviews. I hate being in them, I hate giving them, they’re awful.”

“But the sooner you give them, the sooner you leave that bar and come work at mine,” she crooned.

“Yours?” he repeated, offended.

Nesta snorted. “Ours.”

He and Kallias had both given their notice to the owner of the dive bar they worked in. He wasn’t thrilled, but he had always been a gruff bastard. He’d informed Cassian he wasn’t going anywhere until he’d hired not only his replacement, but Kal’s, as well.

“Speaking of,” he sighed, glancing at the clock. “I’ve got one scheduled for eleven-thirty. What time are you going to the restaurant?”

She poured the egg mixture into the skillet she’d cooked the crispy bacon in moments before and began laying the bacon on the toast she’d made. “Whenever,” she shrugged. “Helion is opening today. What time can Viviane be here?”

“Ten. I’m not working a shift today, so after the interview I can either come back here and give her the rest of the day off, or I can come to the restaurant.”

Nesta chewed slowly as she thought about it. “I wouldn’t mind if you came to the restaurant.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” Cassian said, placing the cut-up banana in front of a cranky Nyx. “And you, little man, better be good for Viv today. Because you’re grumpy.”

In response, Nyx spit out the piece of banana he had put in his mouth and smushed up the rest on his tray.

After scarfing down the breakfast that Nesta had made, and making a show of thanking her for it, Cassian was cleaning up the kitchen then hurrying upstairs to shower. Nesta was left cleaning up a fussy, banana-covered Nyx.

“I don’t even think you wanted to eat the banana, kiddo,” she muttered, cleaning off his tray, before wiping him down with an ungodly amount of baby wipes. “I think it was just to play in.”

He had plenty to say about that, just nothing Nesta could understand.

A few minutes later, freshly showered and dressed Cassian came downstairs, where Nyx was playing on the living room floor. She was up the stairs a minute later, hurrying to take her own shower. After an hour, she returned, purse and keys in hand. “I’m going to go ahead and head to the restaurant. I’ll see you in a little while?”

He nodded and as she made for the door, Cassian stood, catching her by the elbow and tugging her back to him. She stumbled a step, but he crushed her to his chest and pressed a kiss to her lips. When he pulled back, they were both grinning like fools. “I’ll see you in a little while,” he repeated.

“Okay.” She was backing towards the door, that smile looking like it was a permanent fixture on her face, before slipping out and leaving he and Nyx alone.

Who was watching him again, looking so much like Rhysand with that little eyebrow raised.

Cassian couldn’t help but snort and say, “This is your fault you know.”

A few hours later, right after Nyx had gone down for his mid- morning nap, Cassian heard a knock on the front door. Opening the door, Viviane rushed in. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, shaking her head.

Cass glanced at the clock on the mantle. “It’s barely ten-fifteen,” he chuckled. “No big deal, you’re fine.”

She nodded. “Sorry, just— It’s been a crazy morning.”

“Everything okay?” Cassian asked. Viv was usually steady, so sure of everything she did or said.

“Yeah,” she replied, waving off his question. “I’m fine. Ran into my ex at the coffee shop and— Ugh, ignore me. Don’t worry about it. Is Nyx down for his nap?”

“Yeah, he’s been out for about fifteen minutes. He had a pretty big breakfast, so I doubt he’ll be too hungry when he wakes up.” Cassian gnawed on his lip for a second debating on whether he should ask what was on his mind. After considering how well throwing caution to this wind has worked for him last night, he decided why the hell not. “Does that mean you’re single? Since you bumped into your ex?”

Viviane froze and blinked. “Yes, but I don’t date my employers—”

“No, no,” he quickly said, holding his hands out in placation. “It’s not me. It’s a friend of mine and I think you two might hit it off.”

Viviane raised a brow. “A friend, huh?”

“Guy I’ve worked with for years,” Cassian went on. “Great guy, in fact. You’ll enjoy yourself, guaranteed.”

“Guaranteed?” Viviane chuckled. “Well, I can’t say no to that, can I?”

Cassian grinned. “No, you can’t, and neither can he. Tomorrow night, you free?”

“I suppose I am, if my boss is giving me the night off,” she laughed.

“He is, and it’ll be great, we’ll all go out,” Cassian said. “You and Kal, and me and Nesta.”

“Kal,” she said, the shortened name rolling off her tongue. “Yeah, alright. That sounds fun.”

“Perfect,” Cassian said, patting her on the shoulder as he swept past her. “I’ve got to get going, but we should be home around five or so. Call if you need anything.”

Viviane chuckled. “You say that every time, and have I ever called?”

“It’s a habit!” he called, as he hurried out the door.

When he got to the bar, Kallias had everything under control, which meant Cassian was taking a table in the far corner, waiting for his interviewee to arrive.

Sadly, this wasn’t the interview to replace his own job. That was proving to be far more tedious than he was expecting. But an hour later, after shaking the young man’s hand, Cassian let out a sigh of relief as he left.

“And how’d that go?” Kallias asked, wiping down a few glasses that were drying atop the bar.

“Well, your position is officially filled,” he replied, sitting across from him at the bar. “So congratulations.”

“Cheers,” he chuckled, raising the empty glass towards Cassian. “When are we celebrating?”

“Tomorrow night, actually,” Cassian said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kal snorted. “Seriously? I was kidding.”

“I’m not,” Cassian replied, shrugging. “We’re going out tomorrow night. You, me, Nesta, and Viviane.”

Kallias blinked. “The hot nanny?”

Cassian grinned. “Yeah.”

Kallias looked at Cassian suspiciously. “I thought you were kidding when you said you were setting us up.”

“Oh, I never kid about love,” Cassian said, winking.

Kallias raised a brow. “Love? Who the hell are you?”

Cassian filled his glass and took a gulp of beer. “Just meet us at Rita’s at eight tomorrow.”

Kallilas continued to stare at him for a long while. “You slept with her again, didn’t you?”

Cassian’s grin widened. “Tomorrow. Rita’s. Eight.”

And with that, he chugged his beer and left.

*

The next night, Cassian and Nesta dropped Nyx off at Elain’s before making their way to Rita’s.

“Our first date,” Cassian crooned, reaching his hand across the car to Nesta’s.

She took it fondly. “Our first date? After all we’ve been through, do we even qualify for a first date?”

“Why?” Cassian scoffed. “Just because we’ve been sleeping together and living with each other and raising a kid together?” He snorted. “Of course, we deserve a first date.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but did not protest.

Cassian had slept in her bed last night after another night of lovemaking. Even though it didn’t seem possible, it got better with each time. The more they got to know each other’s bodies, the more familiar with one another they became, the more they became one in intimacy, the more amazing it was.

“You look amazing tonight,” Cassian said, quietly. “In case I haven’t told you that yet tonight.”

He had.

Multiple times.

But, Nesta couldn’t blame him. She did look amazing in her navy blue dress and her blush heels. She looked over at Cassian, in his jeans and button down shirt.

Coincidentally, it wasn’t much different than what he had worn on their actual first date five years before. She chuckled, and he looked over at her, brow raised.

“This is actually our second date,” she said.

Cassian shook his head, amused, before looking back out the window as he turned into the parking lot. “Well, hopefully this date goes better than that one did.”

Nesta agreed.

As soon as Cassian opened Nesta’s door, they spotted Viviane pulling into the parking lot. They knew she was a pretty girl, but she usually showed up to work with a ponytail, jeans, and a t-shirt. Now, she had really dressed to impress.

Cassian whistled as she got out of her car and Vivane blushed as Nesta’ jabbed him in the ribs.

“You look beautiful,” Nesta told Vivane.

“Thanks,” she said, and Nesta could tell the nanny was a little nervous, a little uncomfortable.

“I see Kal’s truck,” Cassian said, gesturing for the women to follow. “I guess he’s already inside.”

Indeed he was and he’d already gotten a table for the four of them and was working on a pitcher of a beer.

“Hey, man,” Cassian greeted him as Kallias stood and shook his hand. “This is Nesta,” he said, placing a hand on her back.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, reaching for his hand as well. They shook hands and Kallias smiled.

“You, too,” he replied. “I guess I should call you boss now, huh?”

“No, no, no,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Please don’t.”

“And this,” Cassian interrupted, rolling his eyes at the two of them, “is Viviane.”

As if he somehow hadn’t noticed the blond beauty behind Cassian until this moment, Kallias looked up at her and blinked. He was about to make some sort of hot nanny joke when Kallias breathed, “Viv?”

She was looking at him with the same dumbfounded look Kallias had on his face. “Kallias… Hey.”

Cassian and Nesta looked between the two, then at each other, and after a moment, Nesta asked, “You two know each other?”

Kallias still looked like he was trying to figure out what planet he was on, so Viviane answered, “We were…childhood friends. But my family moved to Velaris when I started middle school.” She shook her head, but she had been looking at Kallias the whole time. “I had no idea you were in Velaris.”

He finally remembered to speak, though Cassian was beginning to wonder if he’d need to answer for him. “I came out here for college. Loved the city and decided to stay.”

“College?” Viviane repeated. “You’re telling me that you’ve been here since your freshman year, and you’ve never called?”

Kallias chuckled. “I didn’t even know you still lived here!”

“Hmm,” Viviane said, taking a seat across from him. “Well, what a small world, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Kallias repeated, “small world.”

Cassian took a seat by Kallias and Nesta sat across from them as they went a little bit more in depth into their long lost friendship. Apparently they had grown up in the same neighborhood and had always gone to the same elementary school. Kallias was a year older than Viviane, but when he went into the seventh grade and Viviane was going into sixth, her family moved to Velaris for her father’s work.

They had never talked again after that. Their friendship was nothing more than a simple, joyful memory.

Seeing them now, Nesta thought, she just knew the two of them had gotten into trouble when they were little. Between their jokes and sly looks at one another, and the obvious chemistry, they had surely been up to no good and gave both sets of parents a run for their money.

“I’m going to the bar,” Cassian announced, looking at Nesta. “Care to join?”

Nesta had a feeling that it was less about going to the bar and more about giving the newfound couple beside them a few minutes alone. She nodded, and took his hand as they walked toward the bar on the other side of the room.

“They’re cute together,” Nesta said, sitting on a barstool.

Cassian sat on the one next to her. “Oh, I know. You know, I’ve gotta say, I feel pretty damn accomplished right now. I definitely made this happen.”

Nesta couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him, even as she leaned into his embrace. She wanted nothing more than to poke fun at him, to mess with him about his unexpected matchmaking skills, but as she looked at the two happy people laughing at the table across the bar, she couldn’t help but wonder if that’s the gift that Rhysand and Feyre had tried to give them all those years ago.

Even now, Nesta’s chest tightened as she smiled, so thankful for her meddling, baby sister.

[infernalrevenge]

The Greatest Show

Fandom: Resident Evil 8: Village

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: G

Summary: Donna and Angie attempt to cheer Reader up after a bad day.

Notes: A little bit of domesticity and comfort from our resident dollmaker. Yes, Reader is still a servant in the house while also being her partner -- because why not HAHAHA. Just thought this would be a fun silly thing to write.

----------

This day was not going the way you thought it would. Well, that was putting it nicely -- this day was going to shit.

It was bad enough that you had a hard time falling asleep last night and woke up in a sour mood, but then you had an argument with a new vendor at the village who not only exclaimed that there was no new shipment of vegetables that morning, but also had the gall to try and throw you out of the store under virtue that they "didn't want the freak servants of one of the freak lords tainting their good establishment." The fucking nerve!

When you got back to the manor empty-handed, fuming but attempting to prepare lunch (sans vegetables), you accidentally burned your hand on the hot stove. As if that wasn't bad enough, when you jumped back in pain, you knocked over a few plates onto the floor and had to clean all that up too. You had to complete all your other chores with just one usable hand, the other one wrapped in a loose bandage. Fantastic.

You wanted to scream. Just let out a long scream to let the frustration out.

But you didn't. You couldn't. You still had other things to do, and you weren't going to let a few setbacks ruin it all. You went about your day as usual -- or at least you tried to, because you didn't quite notice how you would grip onto cups a little tighter, with your jaw set and locked as your grit your teeth, and had a perpetual furrow in your brow that worried Donna and Angie.

"What's up with them?" the doll muttered as she watched you slam a tray down in the kitchen when you thought no one else was around.

Donna didn't reply, only looking at the tension you held in your posture -- like you were set to burst with just one wrong move.

Your thoughts were consumed with tasks to perform for the rest of the day, chanting "Just get through it, you'll be fine" over and over in your head like a mantra. You didn't want to worry Donna over such trivial matters. This was just one bad day. You were better than this! You could do this. Just get through it. Just push! Just do it!

It was close to evening when you found your last task for the day before supper: Tidying up the library. Maybe you'll see Donna and Angie there and they could help lift your spirits. Finally, something to look forward to! Angie would probably make some quip about your bandaged hand, and Donna would be winding down on the couch and picking out a movie to watch after supper while you could talk about something to take your mind off the stress. But when you were greeted with a dark and empty space, neither of them in sight, you only sighed in disappointment.

Just get through it, you'll be fine.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked away the blurriness in your eyes, picking up the duster in the corner.

Just get through it, you'll be fine.

You looked up at the clock. Half an hour until supper. Right on time. You took a deep breath to calm yourself and headed for the kitchen.

You were already going through the menu in your head when you felt an insistent force collide onto your chest, nearly knocking you over.

"Angie?"

Donna wasn't with her, and didn't seem to be anywhere nearby either. She was merely floating on her own. "Y/N, just the person I'm lookin' for! Come on, I gotta show you something!" She seemed rather urgent and excited at the same time. What was she planning now?

She took your uninjured hand and started pulling.

"Wait, but I have to get ready for supper--”

"Supper schmupper, this is way more important!"

"But--”

Angie dragged you by the pant leg to the living room, leaving you no choice but to hop along and follow. There, you saw a table laying on its side covered in a shiny silky cloth, obscuring your view of what or who could be behind it. You could just barely see a familiar veil-clad head crouching underneath. Before you could ask, she yelled at you to sit down on the short stool in front of the set up.

"Angie, what's going on?"

"You'll see, I promise. Now be quiet, the show's about to start!"

With that, she waddled away behind the table, seemingly greeted by a chorus of soft giggles. You tucked your knees close to your chest and waited for the commotion to settle down... whatever this was. You were used to Angie's antics at this point, but what kind of show was she talking--

Suddenly, three puppets dressed like the lords popped up from behind the table, with another one looking like a smaller replica of Angie. They all had cutesy and somewhat exaggerated features, completely made out of felt, cloth, and stuffing. Like plushies.

What the...?

"Don't be sad, Y/N!" they said in unison, their voices remarkably similar to each respective lord, if not much higher in pitch.

"Welcome to the village, we're so glad you're here! Turn that frown upside down and give us a cheer!" they sang, each of the dolls moving along to the beat they made.

"Donna, Angie, w-what..." you started, but they kept singing. You weren't quite sure who exactly might be providing these voices -- the dolls themselves, maybe even Donna -- but you were getting more and more amused by the second.

After their short number, introducing each lord to you (Big Sister Dimi, Mr. Heisenberg, Moreau the Fish Man, and Angie, as you recall), they proceeded with the show proper. Apparently that song wasn't all the two of them had up their sleeves.

"Okay, everyone! We have something very important to do!" the doll that looked like Angie spoke up (probably played by Angie herself) "How do we cheer up a loved one?"

"A loved one?" Doll-Moreau repeated.

"Yes! When someone we care about is sad, we should help in any way we can to cheer them up, right?"

"Right!" Doll-Dimitrescu agreed.

You felt a small smile start to crack your facade. Was this all for you?

"But how do we do that?" Doll-Heisenberg chimed in.

"Well what are things that they like? What makes them happy?" Doll-Moreau asked, who turned to Doll-Angie.

"They like cookies! Chocolate chip are their favorite!"

As if on cue, you felt something tug on your leg, and you looked down to see a porcelain doll in a sailor suit lifting up a plate of cookies to you, littered with chunks of chocolate in the dough. "Thank you," you said softly, giving the little one a gentle pat on the head before they ran off back behind the table. You placed the plate on your lap and started to nibble on one as the show went on.

"What else can we do to make them happy?"

"They also like tea with their cookies!"

You could just barely hear someone whisper "Tea? Ew, why not milk?" before they were swiftly hushed. On cue again, another doll emerged with a cup of hot tea for you. You whispered another thanks before they went back, taking a sip of your drink.

"We can sing their favorite songs!" Doll-Heisenberg started trying to sing before Doll-Dimitrescu interfered with a swift knock to his head. "Not with your voice, you can't."

That was a little mean, but you couldn't help but laugh anyway. You would've choked on your tea if you had been drinking it still.

"Why don't we ask them?" Doll-Angie said, turning to face the audience -- you. "What would make you happy, Y/N?"

The smile on your face only widened, tapping a finger on your chin as you made a show of thinking deeply. Might as well play along if they put in so much effort. "Well, what would make me happy is to have my lovely girlfriend here to share these cookies with."

"You heard 'em, Donna, get over there!" The real Angie peeped from behind the table, with the puppet lords cheering on as well as she emerged from her hiding place. You didn't even need to see under her veil to know she was blushing madly at the attention, even though it was just you and the dolls in her company right now.

You moved the plate of cookies from your lap to make room for her. "Y/N..." she was about to protest, and you pouted in response, giving your best puppy dog impression and opening your arms. "I thought you wanted to cheer me up, love?"

With a sigh and a shake of her head, she settled herself on your lap, your arms wrapped around her waist to keep her steady. You looked up at her fondly and pulled her against you -- it suddenly felt like the day's worries had melted away, and all that mattered was having the woman you loved so close to you. That in itself was a great comfort.

Angie seemed to have taken the reins now, the show getting louder and more chaotic as it went on -- the dialogue was reminiscent of the banter you had with her, and some jokes were made at the expense of the other lords (and sometimes Donna), much to her embarrassment. You rested your chin on her shoulder and couldn't help but laugh along.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Donna whispered, tilting her head slightly to look at you.

"You... noticed then?" Your shoulders sagged, head weighing heavier onto hers, feeling like you wanted to hide.

"I did. It was a little hard not to." She gently took your bandaged hand in hers, pressing a tender kiss onto it. "But I didn't want to stand by and not do something about it, so... I hope this was okay."

You felt your heart swell with affection for her -- when did you get so lucky to have such a thoughtful woman by your side? "More than okay. This was very sweet of you and Angie."

A moment passed before Donna spoke again, "I just want you to know that... if there's anything you want to talk about, anything at all, know that I'm here for you, love. Always."

You could almost feel a tear come to your eye at that, "I'll keep that in mind."

You caught a glimpse of her smile at this angle, "You know I'd do anything to see you happy."

And she could see yours, "You already do."

.

.

.

(After learning of the existence of these "lord puppets", it became a game between you and Angie to hide them in plain sight whenever each lord would come visit the estate and bet on how long it took for them to notice it.

Lord Heisenberg almost never seemed to see his -- you weren't sure if he just didn't care to look around, or found it once and opted to ignore it, muttering something about it being "creepy".

Lord Moreau took a while to find his too, but when he did, you couldn't forget the look of joy and flattery on his face. It was quite adorable, and it turned to how quickly he could find the doll in a new room instead.

Lady Dimitrescu never visited, but when you and Donna went over to her castle, you always made sure to bring it with you. You would catch her daughters trying to hide their snickers when you would just stand around carrying the doll like Donna did with Angie, but whenever the lady tried to find out why, she never thought to look at you to see the commotion. Your girlfriend sometimes scolded you for it, but Angie always had a high five ready for you at the end of every visit.)