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lets-try-some-writing · 15 days

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Emergency Protocols

Cybertronians cannot be alone. To be alone is a death sentence. There is a reason they travel in groups, and with the war in its last gasp, their numbers are dangerously low on both sides.

Faced with a fate far worse than mere death, things are tense. Unfortunately, both sides are forced to endure a rude and horrific wakeup call when the first of many falls victim to the process they had all hoped to escape.

(Big warning for robogore.)

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“I apologize, Mrs. Darby. I am afraid I cannot abide by your wishes.” Optimus stood firmly, his expression dark in a way Jack had never seen before. Next to him, Ratchet watched the scene like a hawk, his eyes bright and intense to such a degree that Jack involuntarily felt himself shuddering. The rest of the Autobots also seemed frozen as they observed in quiet grimness that was so unlike them that it was almost frightening.

Something had changed over the last few months. Ever since the Darkmount incident, the team had been… off. Jack didn’t claim to be any sort of expert, but it didn’t take a degree to see that the bots were more somber. Even Smokescreen, the most excitable of the group, spent more and more of his time pacing. Every single bot was out of sorts, always hanging around the main part of the hangar and never wandering far unless directly ordered by Optimus. Arcee wouldn’t even drive Jack home anymore. Jack, Miko, and Raf were almost always taken home by his Mom or by Fowler.

The worst part, at least in Jack’s opinion, was the way the bots always stopped to stare whenever he and his friends left. Whatever they were doing halted immediately and they all paused, watching critically as they left the hangar to get a ride back into Jasper with Fowler more often than not. It was a small detail, but oftentimes they seemed twitchy when it came time for Jack, Miko, and Raf to head to and from school.

They were almost upset by it, if Jack had to guess.

“You are NOT taking the kids to go talk to Megatron of all people! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Jack wanted to flinch as his Mom screamed, her face contorted in rage so bright it almost had Jack wishing he could shuffle away. But of course, he knew that wasn’t an option. The situation was tense enough that even Miko was quiet as she held Raf’s arm, trying to find some comfort as the scene unfolded.

“You already keep them here overnight whenever you can! And now you want to bring them out to face the giant metal beacon of DEATH that almost took over the world?!” His Mom’s voice echoed in the base, but not a single one of the bots moved. They all stood quietly, stiffly, even as they observed. All that could possibly be picked up from them was the faint sounds of their engines running and the ever-so-slight twitching of their eyes.

The bots had always been clingy. Jack had never been able to figure out why they’d tried to shoo him and his friends away only to then refuse to let them go anywhere when they had a say in things. Looking back, it was like a switch had been flipped. The bots never let him or the others wander far. They were always observed and always requested that they stay at base longer whenever it was feasible. It almost seemed desperate now that Jack thought about it. The way Arcee seemed reluctant to let him go when she drove him home. The look Bulkhead shared with Bumblebee when Miko and Rafael were similarly ordered to be brought back to their families. The strange expression of terror on Smokescreen’s face whenever Jack and his friends left for the evening…

Whatever was going on was finally about to reach its peak. Jack could feel it.

“I apologize, Mrs. Darby. We need the children. We cannot allow them to leave unless they are traveling with us.” Optimus’s voice was surprisingly quiet as he finally spoke up. Almost too quiet. A faint rattle in his words left Jack nervous more than anything else. How often had he ever seen Optimus upset? Once maybe? Even then, it was moreso a look of surprise.

“What in heaven’s name could you possibly need my son and two innocent kids for? Bait?” His Mom’s retort was venomous, so much so that Raf stepped close to Jack on instinct. He didn’t think too hard about holding the younger boy’s hand and pulling Miko slightly behind him as Optimus’s eyes shrank down, the tiny pinpricks of glowing blue becoming smaller than ever before.

“We need the children. They are of us now. We cannot allow even one of our number to leave our sight, not like this, not right now.” Optimus twitched violently. His entire body seemed to lurch as he gripped the railing of the platform, putting Jack and the rest on the Prime’s level. The metal creaked, groaning under his strength as Optimus’s head tilted ever so slowly, his antennae drawn back in an almost aggressive manner.

Jack fought back the urge to run as he watched the rest of the bots crowd around, each of them staring quietly and in obvious agreement with their leader’s words. What was going on?

“Optimus, what’s going on?” Miko finally spoke up, her voice shaking with a hint of a whine as she looked between the Prime, Jack’s Mom, and the rest of the bots. He almost wanted to smack her for speaking up and possibly drawing more attention to them, but he couldn’t find the strength to do anything other than pull Miko closer to himself proactively. Whatever was going on here was beyond them.

“Miko, Jack, Rafael… I am sorry you were the ones wrapped up into this… but I will not risk my people dying. I refuse to condemn one of my own to the fate that awaits us if we are left alone.” Optimus twitched again, this time so violently that a crack echoed in the base. Jack winced but didn’t dare to move as Ratchet pulled Optimus back, his eyes never once leaving Jack and his friends.

“June, give them to us now. We aren’t asking, this is a demand.” Jack’s heart beat faster in his chest as Ratchet took Optimus’s place, holding out a hand and glaring at all of them like they’d personally offended him. Jack paused, too afraid to move, until Rafael tugged on his arm, gesturing toward Ratchet’s waiting hand. Miko seemed hesitant, but she was the first to obey and hurry over to the team medic. Jack didn’t have enough courage to tell her not to.

“Jack, Miko, Raf, don’t you three dare.” His Mom’s eyes were wide and filled with fear. Jack wanted to run, he wanted to scream. But what was he supposed to do? The bots were all so much stronger than them, and from the looks of it, they were willing to do just about anything to get their way.

“Mom, calm down. The bots have always brought us back from dangerous situations safely. This is pretty much the same, right?” Jack tried to soothe his Mom, but he felt a deep dread settle in his stomach as he finally got onto Ratchet’s hand, soon sitting with Raf and Miko pressed up against his sides as the tower giant that called himself a medic began to step toward the rest of the bots.

Jack was only given a moment to see his Mom’s terrified face before Ratchet’s fingers curled enough that he couldn’t see. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Jack, do you think we are going to be alright? The bots… aren’t going to hurt us, are they?” Rafael clung to Jack’s side like a little kid, which he arguably was. Jack wrapped an arm around him in what he hoped was a comforting manner as he felt Ratchet begin to walk.

“They haven’t hurt us before. I don’t think they are going to start now. Besides, this whole thing seems off. They seem to just want us around like some sort of good luck charm.” He attempted to comfort the younger boy, but Raf didn’t seem all that at ease. Jack couldn’t blame him, especially when Miko was sitting quietly for once, her eyes glued on the light of the groundbridge.

“They will be returned safely once talks with Megatron have concluded.” Optimus reassured Jack’s Mom again, but it did little to ease her. Jack could still hear her crying out as the team stepped through the groundbridge, Ratchet still holding all three of them protectively.

The moment they arrived on the other side, Ratchet’s fingers parted just enough that Jack could see through the gaps.

“Prime! You’ve finally arrived.” Megatron stood on top of the nearest rock formation, a legion of Vehicons all around and on the ground beneath him. Soundwave and Starscream stood at his sides, both watching with grim expressions. What happened to all the vicious eagerness Jack had witnessed time and time again when he’d gotten wrapped up in the bots war?

“Megatron, I appreciate your cooperation.” Optimus stepped forward, speaking for the entire group. Oddly enough, the entire team of Autobots huddled close together, each of them looking a second away from surging into action or having a panic attack. Smokescreen and Bumblebee seemed especially stressed, both hovering near one of the bigger bots for support. Ultra Magnus became a bit of a beacon as Optimus left the group. Arcee, Bulkhead, Bee, Smokescreen, and even Wheeljack all crowded around the Commander.

Ratchet remained about a foot or two away from the Autobot huddle pile, for which Jack was grateful since it gave him a good view of whatever was going on.

“Doc, what’s happening?” Miko called up to Ratchet, looking far more terrified than Jack had ever seen her. Miko was always one for battle and excitement, but the strange, unsettling aura of trepidation was evidently getting to her. Rafael wasn’t much better as he clung to Jack’s side, not even adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose.

Ratchet did not see fit to answer Miko’s question.

“Have you come to surrender at last?” Megatron cackled, his evil grin on full display. Jack personally wanted to cringe at the sheer ego expressed in Warlord’s tone, but he was more worried about how the bots were reacting. There was no anger, not even a hint of combat readiness. They just… huddled.

“No. But I come to bargain for peace.” Optimus raised his hands, not in surrender, but something more… friendly? Jack didn’t really have another way to describe it as the Prime kept his back to the team, watching Megatron like a hawk.

“There is no bargaining to be done here, Prime. I will accept nothing less than complete and total surrender.” Megatron raised his blaster, his grin unwavering. Again, Jack wanted to cringe or scowl, maybe both. But looking at Starscream and Soundwave had him even more concerned. They seemed nervous, and looking at the Vehicons, they also huddled together in a very similar fashion to the team.

This was wrong. Something about all of this was wrong.

“Megatronus, enough. You and I both know that we are out of time. There are too few of us left. We cannot continue as we are. Sooner or later, one of us will succumb.” Succumb? Jack felt a hint of fear begin to seep into his body as he looked up at Ratchet, then at his friends, and then back to Optimus. All of them were afraid, at least to his eyes. Ratchet’s expression was sharp, his eyes wide and glowing in a way he’d never seen before. Optimus was unnaturally twitchy, scratching at his armor periodically as he spoke. Rafael and Miko were unusually silent, seemingly copying the team as they huddled against Jack’s side.

He didn’t stop them, instead holding them close as things continued to play out.

“You underestimate the fortitude of the Decepticons. We do not need your Autobots to ensure our survival.” Megatron hissed, anger blazing in his eyes. Those around him flinched, even Soundwave. Survival. This was about survival. That meant that something serious was on the line that Jack did not yet know about.

Why would the Autobots want to ally with the Decepticons for the sake of survival? They’d only ever done that when Unicron woke up. And even then, that was just Megatron, not the entire faction.

“You lost most of your Vehicons to the virus that plagued your ship, and many more fell during the battle at Darkmount. You know as well as I do that your numbers are dangerously low.” Optimus’s voice continued to rattle, his fingers digging into his shoulders as he clawed at his armor. The team made worried noises, but they didn’t dare move. Ratchet’s eyes widened even further as Jack momentarily looked up at him.

Numbers. Was this about the survival of the species? Last time he’d checked, Optimus had said Cybertronians were on the verge of extinction. But again, why ally with the Decepticons? Had Optimus finally cracked? But if that was the case, why did the Decepticons, minus Megatron, look so eager to accept the offer. The Vehicons kept edging closer, their weapons lowered as they fidgeted in fear.

“They’re scared. The bots and the cons are scared of something.” Rafael’s voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief in his tone. He hugged Jack’s arm tighter, prompting Miko to do the same. They were way out of their territory here.

“Not low enough to bring us to our knees. We will never bow before a Prime.” Megtron’s retort came spitefully. His words turned into a strange mess of sounds Jack couldn’t pick out as he ranted for a while longer. Jack assumed he must have been talking in Cybertronian, but it certainly still seemed to make Optimus more and more agitated.

“You are a fool! We are out of time, Megatronus! None of us are safe! Not you, not me, and not any of those under our command!” Something seemed to snap in Optimus as he threw his arms up, gesturing to everyone and everything with such energy that Jack had to blink a few times to see if he was seeing things right. Miko and Rafael physically recoiled as they watched Optimus start to claw at his armor again, creating deep indents as he grunted, bordering on a growl.

“Would you like to see Soundwave succumb? Do you really want to potentially lose your last loyal ally? What about the rest of your troops? Do you want to watch them suffer as base coding takes over?” Again, Optimus spoke, his voice shaking in a way that was previously unimaginable. His movements were almost desperate as he continued tugging on and scratching his plating, almost like he had an insatiable itch. Jack couldn’t see much from where he was, but Optimus turned ever so slightly, letting him get a glimpse of the wild and crazed look in his eyes before he refocused.

The bots shifted all around him, huddling even closer and even going so far as to hold onto one another. Even Ratchet shuffled closer to the team, cradling Jack and his friends but not once tearing his gaze away from the scene.

“Your ridiculous chattering aggravates me. I need none of your Autobots to keep my troops secure. But you need us.” Megatron's tone was mocking, almost like he’d won some great battle. Optimus responded in short order, even more frantic than the first time, but in a quieter way.

“We need each other. This war has gone on too long, and if it continues as it has, we are going to fall.” Jack found himself more and more afraid just listening to the sheer amount of defeat in the Prime’s tone. He looked… scared. Well and truly scared as he started to hunch over a bit.

“Then so be it! I will never succumb! I am Megatron of Kaon!” The leader of the Decepticons cackled, likely preparing to go on into another rant. But he was cut off by a choked sound from Optimus, one that left Jack fighting back the urge to close his eyes.

“You cannot-” Optimus lurched, his limbs twitching erratically as he continued to make an unsettling gagging sound. His antennae moved in unsteady motions, his armor rattled, and his fans blew open as he clutched his abdomen.

“Prime? Are you alright?” Bulkhead hesitantly called out, prompting Optimus to turn around for a brief moment. Miko looked like she wanted to say something, but she shut up the moment the Prime faced them. His optics were wider than wheels, and his jaw hung open in what looked to be a silent, horrifying realization.

“Sir, step back. A retreat may be in order-” Ultra Magnus also tried to offer a comment, but Optimus just twitched again, his erratic movements turning into fullbody shaking as his voice became pure static for a long agonizing moment. He clawed at his arms, tearing off pieces of armor in terrified, desperate motions, almost like he was too hot.

“N-no…. This… this cannot be my end.” Optimus’s words were choppy and frantic, so much so that Megatron’s smile was wiped from his face. Jack felt his own expression fall as he pulled Miko and Rafael back, his hand coming to rest on their heads as he felt the instinctual need to prepare to cover their eyes.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

“Everyone! Get back!” Ratchet all but shoved Jack and his friends into Arcee’s waiting hands. They all yelped, clutching Arcee’s fingers as Ratchet stood in front of the team, urging them back. Between the gaps in Arcee’s fingers, Jack saw a sight that would horrify him until the end of his days.

Optimus was still standing, but he was contorted in such a way that Jack wanted to feel sick. He was bent over, almost like he was trying to perform a gymnastics maneuver only to be stuck halfway. Metal-looking structures jutted out of his spine, possibly his version of ribs. They shone with a sticky substance that hung in strands, still connecting them to the Prime’s body. His expression was pulled taut in what Jack could only assume was pain as Megatron all but screeched for his soldiers to step back.

“Get away from him!” The Vehicons didn’t need to be told twice before booking it back to Megatron’s side. Jack took the chance to cover Rafael and Miko’s eyes as Optimus, usually so composed, fell to crying out in agony.

“H-Help me! I-it hurts-!” Optimus clawed at his armor, wailing as he grasped his head, pulling on his antennae and scratching at his face and neck like it would help him escape whatever was happening. He looked almost feverish as his armor flared and his fans roared.

“M-my spark! Hurts-!” Optimus’s words faded into a scream as he frantically tore off his own armor in a spray of energon. Anywhere he could reach, he dug his fingers under plating and ripped them off. It looked agonizing, almost like he was skinning himself to try and release some deep pain Jack couldn’t even comprehend. Wires were exposed, bright and scarred gray skin like surfaces bleeding as the Prime continued to tear at himself. Miko and Rafael shook against his sides, reminding Jack to keep his hands over their eyes even as he watched on, unable to look away.

“What’s happening!?” Miko whimpered into Jack’s shirt, but he didn’t answer her. Instead, he held her tighter, fighting back the urge building in his gut to vomit.

“PRIMUS HAVE MERCY! MERCY UPON ME!” Optimus screamed like a dying man, twisting like he didn’t know where he was. He flailed before falling to his knees, energon leaking from his mouth, his audials, his eyes, and his vents. He choked and gagged, trying to scream as his spine tore itself out of him, extending and spreading as small rib-like protrusions rose like wings, making room for strange bulbous masses to form all over Optimus’s back.

All over his body, the things Jack assumed were bones ripped themselves out of Optimus’s body in jagged, terrifying snaps. Any remaining armor started to melt, especially around his arms and legs, as more masses developed there. The masses were gray but had a strange hue-shifting look to them that made them glimmer like the world’s most messed-up rainbow, all accompanied by the agonized wail of the ever-stoic leader of the Autobots.

The whole scene looked like it crawled straight from hell, especially as gray looking sludge started to form around him as his armor continued to melt right off and pieces of what looked to be his version of skin began to warp.

“I knew one of us was going to bud!” Smokescream shrieked, covering his face with a sob as he stepped back, only stopped by Arcee who barked at him loud enough for Jack to wince as her voice rang in his ears.

“Shut up!” Jack only tore his eyes away from Optimus’s torture long enough to watch the team start to panic. Wheeljack and Bulkhead clung to each other like the Rapture was on the horizon. Bumblebee had fallen to the ground, watching in shocked horror as Optimus continued to wail. Smokescreen was only held up by Ratchet, who clutched his arm so tightly there had to be dents.

Only Ultra Magnus remained firm, but even that looked like a fragile façade.

“There’s nothing we can do now. Remain clear of the containment area.” Magnus stood firmly, placing a hand over his chest in what looked to be a salute of sorts as the horrific scene continued to unfold.

Megatron and his Decepticons just watched. They didn’t even try to fire as they watched Optimus cry out in agony, the masses all over him growing like tumors combined with the world’s worst allergic reaction. His face split like dried and cracked earth, letting energon pour from the wounds. The same happened all over his frame, internals falling onto the floor as his very body melted from the inside out. The grows just kept getting bigger, cracking and shattering whatever remained of Optimus’s skeleton.

Jack had to swallow the bile building in his throat as Optimus’s limbs snapped, bending backwards and at odd angles the shouldn’t have been possible. His jetpack had long since been torn to shreds, clinging to the mass on his back like some sort of thorn. The Prime had another growth on his chest that left him breathing frantically as he choked on what Jack could only assume were his own fluids. Two more hung off his arms, each creeping along him like mold. Two others infested his legs, popping off Optimus’s tires and consuming whatever mass was there.

He never stopped screaming.

“By the Unmaker…” Megatron’s curse was just loud enough to hear over the cacophony of sobs mixed with howls of torment coming from the Prime. Jack hardly registered his friends shaking against him, crying softly as they listened. He was glad they couldn’t see. Good lord, he was so glad.

Optimus desperately tried to move with his shattered body, the Matrix shining through a gap in his chest where the growth had not yet infested. The thing shocked him relentlessly as he pulled himself along, trying to get to help. His eyes exploded like light bulbs, leaving him blind and in even more agony as his very jaw began to melt right off, unhinging as if someone had knocked the screws holding it in place clean off. His fingers swelled like grotesque sausages, the armor on them distending until they snapped and the fingers turned into nothing more than good and bits of wire.

The Prime kept crying, trying to reach but ultimately being forced onto his stomach as he weakly pleaded for aid.

“Help… me… please… brother…” Optimus lifted an arm, one almost entirely overtaken by the growth. He reached in Megatron’s direction, but the warlord merely shook his head in horror and disbelief. Not a soul moved, and even Smokescreen’s sobs when quiet as Optimus whimpered one final time before his throat caved in.

Jack wasn’t sure if he was dead or not, but he certainly hoped so, if only for Optimus’s sake, as his body continued to twist and be devoured by whatever was on him. The growths consumed almost everything, bulking and breaking off of Optimus’s mutilated husk once they’d eaten almost all of him. Jack couldn’t bear to look at the corpse as the growths started to squirm, warping and changing.

Forming limbs.

“Is… is Optimus dead?” Raf’s voice was soft, almost a sniffle. Jack didn’t dare move his hands away from his friend’s eyes, decidedly not acknowledging the way his hands shook or how sick he felt.

“I don’t know Raf.” Jack’s words were surprisingly calm, but he chalked that up to shock as each of the masses continued to shift and change, forming into... their own entities. One by one they came online, their eyes lighting up a brilliant blue as they stood on unsteady legs. There were six, five of which appeared to be of similar design. Only the largest stood out, its armor sharp and its body built with a degree of elegance in mind.

All six of the new entities assessed themselves, looking over their bodies. The five smaller entities all had wings, but more startlingly, they all had Optimus’s eyes, albeit with slightly different takes on the design. It was almost like they were related somehow.

Jack wasn’t given time to think much about it as the biggest of the six quietly moved to Optimus’s body, or at least what remained of it. The five followed, the whole group staring at the Prime’s body for a long moment before the biggest reached down, and pulled out the Matrix. The relic was covered in energon, and yet it still somehow looked innocent as the largest one held the relic up, presenting it to Autobot and Decepticon alike.

“Hot Rod of Optimus Prime.” The biggest one, Hot Rod, announced themselves with a stoic expression that rivaled the fallen Prime. The rest of the five soon joined in the chorus.

“Silverbolt.” One of the five presented themselves with a proud salute, their frame blocky and obviously still developing.

“Air Raid.” Another followed in their lead, copying the first.

“Fireflight.” Again, another of the five spoke out, and each voice that rang out seemed to make the bots and cons shrink in on themselves.

“Skydive.”

“Slingshot.”

The last two exclaimed their names with both glee and a degree of solemn understanding. Jack finally released his hands from where they’d covered Miko and Raf’s faces, letting them see these new bots. They gasped, and Miko began to cry the moment she saw Optimus’s corpse. Jack didn’t try to comfort her. It was useless.

The six stood there, as if waiting for orders. They were without color, and their armor was still shifting like goo. However, they all looked up to Megatron; their actions synchronized as they spoke in unison, leaving Jack’s skin crawling.

“We are of Optimus Prime, and we desire peace.” They all spoke, but Megatron wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head, terror etched onto his features as he threw himself into the sky.

“Decepticons! Retreat to the Nemesis!” Without hesitation, all the Decepticons flew back toward the warship looming overhead, not even trying to take advantage of the situation.

The six, for their part, turned to stare at the team, Jack and his friends included. He could feel their eyes raking over him, assessing him like he was some interesting subject in a lab. He hated it. He wanted to be sick, to sob, and then to never emerge from his room again.

“We will continue our originator’s work in his stead. We will not allow his death to be in vain.” Silverbolt, or at least the one Jack assumed was Silverbolt, collected the battered remains of Optimus’s corpse. The broken thing was little more than a few pieces of melted metal smelted together into an unflattering slab. The only reason it could even be tied to Optimus at all was because of the cracked remnants of a face that stuck to it.

Jack wasn’t sure he would be able to hold back the bile any longer as the six all smiled, the biggest one who still held the Matrix, stepping forward like they were always part of the team.

“Shall we return to base?”

212 notes · View notes

fkinavocado · 5 months

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a very indulgent exploration of what could've, should've been...

Don't Worry Darling (SPIN-OFF) - Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings / alternatively, read on wattpad

Part One (word count: 6.2k)

“... Jack? Excuse me, Jack? Is that really you?”

The man reluctantly stopped in his tracks and turned around, recognizing the woman but having forgotten her name. “Oh… hi there, uhm…?”

“Emma. It’s Emma. You remember me, right?”

“Yeah, you’re, uhm… you used to work at the hospital…”

Emma approached him, noting he wasn’t keen on breaching the gap himself. Poor fellow, she thought. He looked a mess. She was surprised she’d even recognized him. “Oh, I’m still at the hospital! How are you, Jack? You know, we’re all worried about you. Why didn’t you take us up on our offer, hm? We’d have loved to help you any way we could… It can’t have been easy. Gloria told us she came over once with a home cooked casserole but no one answered the door. She assumed you’d moved. Which is good, we thought. But we couldn’t get a hold of you, you must’ve also changed your number…”

Jack wasn’t really making eye contact. His gaze downcast, a hoodie atop of a beanie on his head and an oversized, worn out puffer jacket that almost swallowed him up. He looked very poorly even hidden behind all that. His facial hair unkempt, as was his hair tucked underneath his beanie, seemingly longer strands of it all messy and straw-like peeking out. His glasses loose at his temples. His face was hollow cheeked and she really feared he wasn’t looking after himself properly at all. But what really stood out to her was the bouquet of flowers he was carrying.

“Yeah… I moved out of there. Too many memories.”

“Those were her favourite… pink roses,” she mused. “You miss her so, don’t you, Jack? You can’t even bear talking to me about her, you poor man, even after all this time… What must you be going through… do you– agh. This is so insensible of me to even ask. Forgive me. But if it’s any consolation, us at the hospital haven’t given up hope. We still think she’s out there, somewhere, our Alice…”

Jack cleared his throat and took a step back. “I should get going…”

“Of course. Do take care of yourself, Jack. And if you ever want to reach out, you know where to find us. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,...” he stammered a bit, not knowing what else to say. He walked for a while in the wrong direction, just in case the nosy woman decided to follow him.

He hadn’t moved. That would’ve been near impossible, and since he managed to dodge the bullet while the police were sniffing around for the longest time, he figured there wasn’t any reason to do so anymore. But he couldn’t have her know that, which is why he never answered the door to the other woman with the casserole either.

After making sure she wasn’t following him, he resumed his walk home. He wished he could find some type of work from home. He’d be saving so much time and money on the commute, plus he’d always be there, which was quite imperative, all things considered.

What if there was a power outage? The one time that’d happened, there’d been dire consequences. Consequences he hadn’t had to endure. And he simply couldn’t allow that to happen again.

There were so many things that could go wrong while he wasn’t home.

Plus, if he worked remote he could take on a full shift. As it was, he had to work part-time, which wasn’t nearly enough to make ends meet. But the commute and all the prep he had to do were taking up too much time, time he didn’t want to waste here.

Finally arriving home, he made sure to secure the front door- the lock and all 3 of the bolts.

Checking the computer screen, he only had 40 minutes left. The woman had made him late, what with all the detours he had to make to be sure she wasn’t following him.

Canned tuna it was, then. Again. No time for cooking. Not that he had much in the fridge anyway.

He always felt antsy between the time he got back home and logging in. He wanted to get everything done and out of the way as soon as possible- cooking, laundry, cleaning (more like tidying up, the apartment was far from clean even by his standards), everything on autopilot, peeking at the computer screen every now and then to make sure he didn’t miss his log-in window.

With 20 minutes to spare, that was his que.

“Oh!” He rushed back to the kitchen to retrieve the flowers, then using the keys that he wore on a chain around his neck for safekeeping, he unbolted yet another set of locks on the bedroom door.

There she was.

His heart always swelled in his chest seeing her there, safe and sound. Everyday day, without fail, a sigh of relief escaped his lips once he entered the bedroom. He’d probably never stop worrying while he was away for work.

“Darling, I… miss you all the time…” he hummed the lyrics to a song he used to sing to her often, placing the flowers in a vase by the bed. “Got you flowers, your favourite! Even that pesky Emma from the hospital remembers they’re your favourite. You’re so loved, hm? My precious girl.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached to caress her supple cheek. “But I love you the most.”

Jack knew he did. Who else would do all this for her? Nobody! He tended after her, emptied out her waste bags as well as checked the respective connecting catheters were secure in place, cleaned her up, all without so much as wrinkling his nose. He replaced the IV, taking note that there was some bruising on that arm so he made sure to switch, he removed her compressive socks and massaged her limbs thoroughly before putting them back on, even made sure to hydrate her lips though she was getting all her nutrients through her IV, hell- he thought of everything. He did it all for her happily, and would do much more if needed.

She’d done so much for them, too.

She still did!

But long gone were the days where he’d see her come home from back to back shifts at the hospital, with barely any time to get some sleep in before she had to head back, all because she had to support the both of them all while paying off her student loans.

Medschool was so expensive. Had he met her before he’d have talked her out of that career path. He’d have talked her out of any career! No. That was his job. He was the caretaker. He was the breadwinner. It’d been like that since the beginning of time. It was only natural for the man to provide. The fact that she’d had to for all that time had been killing him, every day that he had to sit at home and wait for her to get back from the hospital only to see her defeated, exhausted, drained beyond belief.

Resident doctors were paid shit but strung out to the max. Especially surgeons.

Meanwhile, Jack had struggled to find a job for the longest time. Unlike her, he hadn’t gone to college, let alone university. His parents couldn’t afford it at the time and he knew better than to tie himself up in student loans. He’d had odd jobs but nothing really ever stuck. He had no real skills, and every entry job demanded some form of higher education nowadays.

Plus, someone had to do house chores, cook and clean. And they couldn’t afford help.

It’d been eating him up inside. It was all backwards!

All up until he’d met someone online and got to talking over a game of World of Warcraft. This guy swore up and down about this dark web programme he’d found, but it was all very hush-hush, and Jack had to put in some serious gameplay time until he managed to extricate the info out of him.

The guy was very paranoid about telling him and even used a code system for what to look up. Jack took the lead and before long, he fell down the rabbit hole of what he now knew to be the Victory Project.

He got so immersed trying to digest all this new info being thrown his way all of a sudden that he nearly got caught listening to one of the podcasts when she’d gotten home from the hospital one day. He’d even forgotten to call the plumber. Boy- had that pissed her off.

She was already on edge all the time. Never had any time for him anyway- but if she got upset over silly little things she shut him out completely.

He felt emasculated. Rejected. Reduced to a housewife.

Jack smirked to himself, as he tended to her whilst pondering all that. Securing the straps back around her wrists he mused at how things had changed. “I fixed it for us, I told you I would. Now you’re the one who’s waiting for me just as we speak. And I don’t even come home to you in scrubs, do I? No, I come home to you all handsome, suit and tie and ready to get my fill of you. Never too tired for you, am I darling? You’re such a great cook, god knows my mouth waters just thinking of all you’ve slaved over for us to feast on, but all I wanna do is feast on you instead. Aren’t you lucky?”

Jack watched her expressionless eyes for a moment as if waiting for her to answer him back, and promptly remembered to apply her eye drops, noticing they looked extra blood-shot than normal. He then finally got comfy in bed next to her. He couldn’t wait a moment longer. He was hard already just in anticipation of the way she’d excitedly open the door for him. The door to their lavish home, and their extravagant life together that he’d earned for the two of them. Him.

He fixed the device around his own eyes and turned it on, taking her hand in his.

“Welcome to the Victory Project. There are currently 72 active users.”

Nothing beat this. The pleasant, warm afternoon air sweeping through his perfectly coiffed hair as he rushed to get home to her from the Victory Headquarters. Here, the weather was always perfect… whereas, in the apartment, he had to keep the heating on a lower setting, the bill was ridiculous during the colder months. He always had to wear layers and layers, but not in the bedroom- no, he kept a radiator in there. All for her. He had to switch it off for safety reasons while he was away at work but it wasn’t like she was aware of her surroundings anyway! All the more reasons why he had to find something remote so he could work from home and clear up all these little things that bugged him about the whole arrangement.

But he didn’t want to think about all that, not while he was here. No, here, those problems didn’t exist. This was his preferred reality, this was what he chose to believe was real. All the rest was just a means to an end.

He could feel all his exhaustment leave his body the closer he got to the house. He seldom wondered why she couldn’t have done the same for him coming back from the hospital. Why she couldn’t just leave all that baggage at the door and be glad to be home, back to him, where he waited for her like a lovesick puppy with separation anxiety.

He knew the answer to that now, of course, and that was all Frank’s merit- the brain behind this whole thing. He’d listened to his podcasts for a long while before he enrolled into the program. There was no way she could ever respect him within their given dynamic at the time. The roles were reversed and she couldn’t allow herself to be a woman to her man.

He’d fixed it, though, and boy, had Frank been right.

Every day, without fail, he knocked on the door coming home from work and there she was- all smiles and carefree and so eager to please him, in any way he saw fit. All because she respected him now. He was the man of the house, he was the breadwinner, he put a roof over her head, he got her all her little heart desired and kept her satisfied and happy.

Which is why when nobody answered the door he was a bit taken aback.

Using his key that he’d rarely ever had to use himself to unlock the door, he let himself in and carefully inspected the silent house.

He knew, realistically, that there was no way something could’ve gone wrong- there was no crime in Victory. No one had broken into their home. But still, he searched the house tentatively. “Alice?”

Everything was spotless, and most striking of all, he couldn’t smell a trace of the homecooked meal he’d so been looking forward to. That tuna was enough to sustain his physical body, but not his large appetite.

Reaching the bedroom, he furrowed his brows with worry upon finding her… sleeping. Passed out on the bed, clad in her street clothes. She’d seemingly come back home from town exhausted and must’ve stretched her bones a bit by the looks of it.

He contemplated waking her up. Maybe crawling between her thighs and having her gasp awake at the feel of him lapping languidly at her folds. He loved waking her up like that, and she did too. She loved being loved on, and Jack absolutely loved pleasuring her. She was so much more responsive, so much more sensitive to his touch, he could pleasure her over and over for hours on end. Probably ‘cause of all the practice he was having on a regular basis. And maybe he adjusted some settings regarding his stamina while creating his profile too, but at the end of the day, why not? He did it for her. All of this was for her!

Jack grunted to himself before closing the door to the bedroom so he wouldn’t perturb her sleep, deciding last minute to forgo his initial plans. Funny he’d been reminiscing about how things used to be just in time for this to happen all of a sudden.

It must’ve been a glitch in the system or something. This wasn’t in line with what he’d designed for themselves. Here, they were never tired, ill or imperfect in any way. Jack made a mental note to look into this after he logged out.

In the meanwhile- he’d never tried his hand at cooking here, where presumably he’d be a lot better at it than he was in reality.

Just like with everything else.

Alice blinked her eyes awake. She took in her surroundings and hesitantly stood up on the bed in the dark room, letting her sight adjust.

How did she get back here? Not here, here. She had an inkling of how she’d managed that- but back to the house, from the Headquarters. She couldn’t remember making the trek back.

Maybe she didn’t have to.

Maybe this was the default setting she woke up to everytime after entering… the simulation. Because, what else was this if not that?!

How long was she out of it? Judging by the darkness surrounding her, a good few hours. Perking her ears up, she could hear music- so Jack was home too.

She cradled her knees to her chest, trying to let it all sink in. She hadn’t had time to properly digest what had happened, in her unconscious state.

Hell, she was surprised she could even remember.

But this explained it… explained all the fuzzy deja vu-like flashbacks she kept having. Explained her brain fog and all the things she just couldn’t follow through in her train of thought. Explained why she sometimes couldn’t account for most of her day until Jack came home from work, almost as if she’d been on auto-pilot.

Explained all the vivid “dreams”.

They weren’t fanciful dreams, idealistic wishes of a progressive feminist world for which she’d gotten shock therapy at the Victory’s doctor’s orders.

They were her memories.

Waking up tied down to that bed… her own bed, from another life, had been traumatic, but she clearly was still in shock to be so calm about it.

She hadn’t been calm initially of course- not when she couldn’t move her arms or blink her eyes shut.

She’d managed to slip out of the confines, her wrists weak and frail and barely recognizable, yanking her IV out of her vein by accident- she hadn’t even known it was there!, all in an effort to get those things that forced her eyes open off of her face.

She’d been hysteric. Tried to muffle her own screams, because she didn’t know who was around to hear them. Tried to calm herself down, but the more she noticed, the more she hyperventilated. Like the fact that had both urinary and rectal catheters sticking out of her. Then she noticed how emaciated she looked, almost like she couldn’t even recognize her own body. She couldn’t feel her limbs, she felt numb and achy all over, bruises all across her skin from sitting still for so long. Her throat was hoarse, she couldn’t really scream that loud even if she wanted to.

She’d fumbled out of bed and immediately collapsed to the floor. She was too weak to stand, and she prayed she hadn’t broken any bones in her fall. She sat there crying in a fetal position for god knows how long, thinking of all the fractures she’d fixed in the OR, and all her knowledge that had gone to waste.

All her life that had gone to waste!

This room, this bedroom- her old life came back to her in a flash, flooding all her senses. It felt like everything was finally clicking into place, and despite how miserable and utterly devastated she felt, it was a relief to finally figure it out.

With the way nobody came rushing into the bedroom, she knew she was alone. Unless Jack was at this computer, headphones on– oh god. She felt her mind split into two trying to reconcile the fact that these two very different men were one and the same!

She was alone strapped to the bed- which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t constrained like she was. He hadn’t been forced into this. Unless they were being kept separate… both victims of this sick mindfuck.

Because… surely– surely Jack couldn’t be behind this.

… Could he?

Scrambling for the door, determined to get some answers, she reached for the doorknob.

When she couldn’t get it to open, she mustered up all her strength to stand up- but still- it was no use. It was locked. And with the way it felt it looked like the door had been tampered with, bolted shut from the outside, not just locked.

She was trapped. A prisoner in her own home. She eyed the windows next and even if by some miracle they weren’t bolted shut too- she knew she was too weak to try and use the fire escape. She’d surely succumb to her death trying to evade. She needed a plan- a better plan.

Her brain was scurrying to come up with something-anything, all the while dry heaving at the sight of her waste bags still attached to her by those catheters and the overall stale smell of the room, but she knew that with how dehydrated she was, vomiting would take her out completely at that point. She head to keep it together, had to–

She’d heard what she recognized to be the front door. Her blood froze in her veins. She didn’t know who it was, she had no idea who was behind all this. She had no clue where Jack was, if he even was part of this– her heart told her no, he couldn’t have, but at this point she had no way of knowing what was real or not, let alone what this all meant.

She couldn’t risk being found conscious. She was clearly being kept in a comatose state, treated as one such patient at least, and the fact that she’d woken up from that induced state was definitely not intended to happen.

She remembered what had happened before she woke up like this- she’d reached the infamous, off limits Victory Headquarters. Because a plane had crashed in that direction, and the trolley driver didn’t believe her nor wanted to take her there!

She’d made the trek all the way there… it’d taken her ages, in the scorching sun- and finally, finally, she’d reached the imposing building, in hopes of finding some help or at least some answers at that point!

Next thing she knew, she’d woken up strapped to this bed. Her bed, in her old bedroom, from her old life that had been stolen away from her!

She needed to gather as much information as possible, and the only way she could do that was to get back into that bed and pretend she never came to.

There was no other way.

She hurried as best she could, barely making it back to the bed, made sure she was laid out in the same outstretched position. By some miracle, the catheters were still in place, their respective bags on the floor by the foot of the bed. The hardest part was fixing whatever that contraption was over her face and around her eyes. It dug deep into her flesh and she remembered to wipe any traces of tears from her face when new ones began rolling down her face. She was surprised her body could even produce them with how parched she felt. She then inserted the needle back into her bruised vein– which was sure to get infected at this rate, whoever was doing this to her was amateur at best, or they didn’t much care to keep her alive. She didn’t know which prospect was worse. She slipped her wrists back through the strap loops, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious she’d gotten them a bit loose when she struggled her way out of them.

And then she’d waited. And waited. And waited. All the while a bright red light scanned her eyeballs systematically, no doubt whatever was used to induce her into that trance or whatever it was that created the optimal parameters for the alternate reality to take place. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around it. She couldn’t even begin to understand how it worked- all she knew was that it was all too real to be just a dream. No. That was a controlled environment. The world simulation came to her again.

Her whole body froze as she’d heard the lock, then what she counted to be 3 other bolts on the bedroom door. She could only see directly above her, and that barely- but she could hear him when he came in.

Smell him, even.

And it wasn’t the smell of expensive cologne she’d grown used to, but a more familiar smell. A smell that felt more real, more ingrained in her subconscious- that of clothes he’d dug out of the laundry hamper to wear a few more times when everything else was too dirty even for his own standards, mixed with canned tuna and the faintest amount of deodorant that did nothing to mask the fact that he’d skipped showering for a day or two.

Her heart sank when she heard him hum to himself the song that had been stuck in her mind for ages- the one she’d been humming herself but couldn’t remember where she knew it from. This is where she knew it from. It’d been their song, in a way, a song he’d made up just for her.

“Darling, I… miss you all the time… Got you flowers, your favourite! Even that pesky Emma from the hospital remembers they’re your favourite. You’re so loved, hm? My precious girl.” She felt him sit on the edge of the bed and tried her best not to flinch when he leaned in to caress her cheek. “But I love you the most.”

She could feel her eyes well up with tears. Tears she couldn’t even blink away.

He then started tending to her and she mustered up all of her willpower not to lurch at him when he’d gotten her out of her restraints- she knew she was no match for him, not in her weakened state by any means.

He was doing this to her. It was him! All while declaring his love for her. She felt her heart break into a million pieces, all the while forcing herself not to make any movements and break her cover. Not even when he cleaned her with wet wipes up and checked the catheters, emptying the waste bags. God- she wished she was dead. For a while she zoned out completely, much like rape victims. She just let it happen to her, dissociating from her body completely, mentally checking out.

He’d eventually poured what must’ve been eyedrops into her sockets and that brought her back to reality. Whatever reality was anymore…

And then… to her utter shock, she felt him get in bed next to her. The familiar clank of the device she’d placed back onto herself could be heard and she realized he was putting on the same headgear.

He was… joining her? He was willingly putting himself through this? Sure, he wasn’t forced into it against his will, there was nobody strapping himself to the bed, nobody feeding him through an IV and treating him like a comatose patient.

But he was entering the simulation the same way she was. Through that headgear.

Is this what he did everyday while he was “at work”? Was this the infamously secret Victory Project that she couldn’t even ask him about- exiting that alternate reality and coming back here?

She heard him switch it on and then the whole room went dark before a projector of sorts played a familiar black and white scene on the ceiling, above the bed. She felt him interlace his fingers with hers and she was done for- she couldn’t fight it. Whatever this was, it was working fast, making her slip into unconsciousness almost immediately.

Followed directly after by her waking up in her other bedroom. Unrestrained. Nothing to force her eyes open. Clean. Rejuvenated even.

But scared shitless.

Traumatised.

Heartbroken.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, trying to make sense of it all in the darkness. Thankful to be able to move freely, thankful to feel like her old self, but well aware that it was all an illusion, that her real self was held hostage somewhere god knows where. Helpless, frail and alone.

She felt conflicted. Why was he doing this?! Why had he done this to her? She’d heard him say he loved her most. Heard he’d brought her flowers, even though she couldn’t even see them. Felt him tend to her, he was doing a lousy job at it but was keeping her alive and she could tell he was trying his best, being gentle, careful, thoughtful even when the reality was he didn’t have to. Not when, for all he knew, she was unconscious.

This was insanity.

There was no other explanation. No other justification. She understood the nuances- could see why this was- on paper- a better life. But it was fake! And most of all, it wasn’t her choice!

She’d been forced into it, against her will, without her even being aware of it! Her life had been robbed away from her. Her family, her friends, her hard work. The only common denominator… was Jack.

She didn’t know how to go about it, but if there was any chance of her escaping, she had to play dumb and pretend she knew nothing.

She wasn’t sure how she could face him knowing what she did, but she had to. She had to buy time, enough time until she could put her plan into motion.

She didn’t know if she’d succeed, but she had to try. She had to. She had to escape, claim her life back, good or bad.

She got off the bed, marvelling at how strong and healthy she felt, as opposed to how she’d collapsed on the floor in her real body. That alone emboldened her, she had to go face the music.

And face the music she did. Jack had put a record on, blasting it at high volume with little consideration to her being asleep. No surprises there.

But as she approached the kitchen, she took in the sight of him… cooking. Or, trying to cook.

Apparently, you couldn’t tweak everything in this alternate reality. Or maybe he didn’t care to fumble with his cooking skills. Because he’d definitely perfected some of his other skills–

“You’re awake!... I didn’t have time to set the table.”

“What’s going on?” She watched him scurry around the kitchen, trying to do a dozen things at once and failing.

“Well, I’m making you dinner. Now, we were supposed to have five courses. Unfortunately, I think we’re down to about three.”

She took note of the mess, especially the way something was about to catch on fire on the stove.

“That– don’t look at that. That course is officially off the menu.”

That’s when it clicked in her brain– the fucker had switched up his accent! He had a British accent here! Oh, she could laugh if she didn’t feel like murdering him. She reminded herself it wouldn’t be the real him she’d be murdering, though. No, for all she knew if she harmed him in any way here, she might end up trapped inside this simulation forever if her plan failed. Or until her real body died, with no one to tend for it, even as poorly as he was, in the real world.

She had to thread carefully. “What happened?”

“I got a little aggressive with the seasoning.”

“How long have you been home?”

“Uh, a few hours.” He proceeded to make even more of a mess in his attempt to jump from one dish to the next. “Okaaay. Nope. Don’t look at that. That’s– Okay, so I’m making that roast, you know the one you made for my birthday? Only with a few changes…”

“I was here when you got here?”

“Yeah. Asleep in the bedroom. Do you put carrots in a roast?”

“How did I get home?” That was a reasonable question. Last thing she knew of this reality was she’d reached the Headquarters. She needed to know if anyone knew about it.

“Trolley, I think.”

“Wait, so he came out and got me?!”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Jack, I got off the trolley. I saw a plane crash.”

“Alice, I think I would’ve heard if there was a plane crash.”

“No, Jack, I saw it…”

“They tend to be rather loud…”

“... and I started walking–”

“–and hard to miss.”

It was dawning on her that she wasn’t going to milk any info on this out of him. He was going to pretend the plane never crashed, of course, whatever that even meant for this simulation. Or maybe the plane crashing was only visible to her version of this altered reality. She couldn’t know for sure. But he seemed unconcerned otherwise. She didn’t think he knew she’d gone there. She really must’ve re-entered right back into the bedroom, after all, she, along with all the other women, were never meant to go up there, the Headquarters were off-limits.

Meaning that was probably from where the men entered. Since they were the only ones who came and left. The women were probably all bound to their own respective beds back in the real world, they were never meant to leave the simulation. It made sense why she’d found herself back in the house- where she belonged. And it made sense if that was where the man entered and exited since that’s where they all allegedly went everyday for “work”.

Her heart sank at the realization that it was highly probable that all the other women were victims, just like her. Unless everything and everyone else was a simulation around them.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

She tried not to flinch when Jack finally noticed she’d zoned out whilst trying to process all of this, and touched her shoulder, taking a better look at her.

“No…I don’t know–I’m not…”

Before she could react, he pulled her into his arms. That smell of expensive cologne hit her again, overriding the smell of stale clothes and canned tuna from her recent memory. And his embrace felt so familiar, so comforting, that for a moment she allowed herself to pretend like this was the person she knew to love her. The person she couldn’t wait to come back home from work everyday. The person that made her smile and laugh and moan and cry tears of happiness. She knew him well, she loved him with all her heart. And she was reluctant to accept that this man was the same that was keeping her strapped against the bed. Because that was the reality of it.

But this version of Jack that was holding her felt so real as well…

“I had a really weird dream. A really weird dream…”

“I’m sorry.”

Her heart sank. Was he, sorry? She buried her face deeper into his chest and held her breath, stifling a sob as tears flooded her eyes immediately. She wanted to break down in his arms and ask him why he’d done this. She wanted to give him a chance to explain himself. Wanted for him to somehow, magically, make it all better.

But she knew there was no way for him to do it. There was nothing he could say or do to justify what he’d done to her, even if his intentions didn’t seem as evil as they truly were to him.

Because she knew Jack. She knew he’d probably convinced himself somehow that this was the only way out of the miserable life they were living- and be it as it were, it was her life! He’d had no right to steal it from her like that.

“Do you know what weird dreams make me? Hungry.” He fed her a carrot he was holding jokingly then turned her around as she chewed absentmindedly, her mind racing, still taking in the reality of what her life was. Or the alternate reality, more like it.

Jack cupped her face, searching her eyes and declared solemnly, “Alice, I want to be honest with you about something.”

She almost choked on the carrot she was chewing on. Was he–

“I don’t think these mashed potatoes are gonna work.”

She swallowed, a bitter taste in her mouth at her naivete. “That’s because you need to boil them first, baby…”

“I knew it… I knew there was a step missing. Such an idiot,” he smiled bashfully.

She laughed at that. A manic laugh, but he didn’t seem to notice. Not at how incompetent he was at such a basic life skill- who the hell tries to mash raw potatoes?!- but at how hopeful she’d been for a moment there, believing he was about to confess everything just like that, out of the blue.

“Let me put a pot on…”

“No, no, no–”

“Come on, let me–”

“Make us some drinks. Relax.” He pulled her out of the kitchen and into the lounge, declaring “I am your chef tonight!”

Lord knew she desperately needed a drink at this point, so she sighed heavily, getting to it, when he stopped her in her tracks, “hey!”

“Hm?”

“You love me?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. She replied like she used to, back in the real world. Something she didn’t remember ever doing here, but it just came to her by reflex now that her memory of her past life had come back to her fully. And for some reason that she couldn’t explain, she meant it, still. “The most.”

Jack seemed pleased with her answer, and resumed his ‘cooking’. Alice turned to the whiskey bottle and downed two doubles, one after the other.

How was she ever going to get free when her stupid heart had meant what she said?

She couldn’t allow herself to be fooled by this false reality any longer. Couldn’t allow to slip into his arms again and pretend he loved her when this was anything but love.

So she waited. Waited until he fell asleep that night (thankfully all the “cooking” had seemingly tired him out and he didn’t try anything)- praying this meant he was truly asleep.

Got dressed, tiptoed out of the house and geared up for a long journey to the Headquarters. She couldn’t risk taking the car and waking him or the neighbours up, alerting them with this unusual behaviour. There weren't any trolleys late at night by any means- everyone was sound asleep.

Everyone but her.

She was no longer asleep.

A/N: i've been meaning to get to this for the longest while! hopefully it scratches some itches we've been left with. i had fun writing this first part. more to come 👀

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#dwd #don't worry darling #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #jack chambers #florence pugh

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