#such a long ask sorry and its like all messy my brain is all jumbled

[moomoorare]

Hiya!!!

Tell me more about Moom! Also, have you decided her pronouns are she/her? I see you also use they/them. (I'm gonna use she/her for this ask bc its what you used in the latest post I think)

Is she from an original world you made? Does she fit in in an SMP? Does she go between SMPs like an insert?

What's her favorite food? Can she be on land or does she have to stay mostly near/in water?

Does she like hugs? Bc id like to give her a hug. If not I'll just wave and smile :D

This ask 🥺 I'd love to talk more about her!! Also yes I'm mostly using she/they to refer to Moom but really He/him works too lol ^_^ She's from axle and i's little server called Snail lovers <3 (it's only us bc i run it on my laptop and it's already pretty laggy, we have fun tho, we do our own things, basically like the hermits).

She could also fit an smp, since her lore is that she's bound to live in a loop of living as a dormant shapeshifter, many events that bring her to the ocean life and history, discovering the blue axolotl, turning into the vibrant axolotl variant and protecting the ocean sea lakes whatever, its water life, and then dying and being born into a lost axolotl variant that's awakened by activating a ocean circuit again and again... This idea is very new so it's not set in stone yet but the rough edges of her story is what i just vomited above ↑.

Also yes. Imagine this is a role that could be worn by any moom from any universe. So it's a reoccurring loop that happens in a least a branch of the universe. Lol it's a big concept I'd have to expand in the future.

Her favorite food... Mmm. Well she eats lots of golden carrots but that's bc in game, breaking the fourth wall, it's the best food. In lore before turning into an axolotl, she ate a lot of pumpkin pies !! As a axolotl probably cooked cod tho, looks tasty.

She can be on land and is a lot, mostly out of nostalgia of the dry world, but she does need to get in water fairly often to not get sick or weak. She loves hugs, tho she prefers giving them than be caught by surprise lol. I'm sure if u gave them a heads up she'd love a hug tho

[keilemlucent]

Oh Salem, the panicked Keigo idea just speaks to my mean little gremlin heart. I want to see the guy trained to keep calm and cool lose his shit over losing his s/o. RIP his handlers if they try to slow him down. I want to see the relief when he finds them and the reckoning for the people dumb enough to try. This. This is my bedtime snack.

so this is less of reckoning, more relief. soft. ive been thinking about this a LOT and i feel like <3 poor keigo would be ruined:

heres a wittle drabble for your thoughts 

warnings: kidnapped reader, descriptions that may trigger claustrophobia (light, just a cave setting), insults in a not fun way, hurt/comfort baby

You were so cold.

The ‘cell’ you were in was more of a hovel, a small hole dug into the elaborate cave system you found yourself trapped in.

You weren’t sure for how long. There was no sun, only a guard that came and went with your meager meals and stale bottle of water. He and the other villains that had captured you spit vitriol and profanity like it was their duty to grind their verbal heels against your fragile psyche.

You tried to block them out, curling up in a tight ball against the rough back wall of your cell. Ignorance was better than hearing their profanities. 

The worst part was that you weren’t really sure what was going on. Other than that it had something to do with Keigo, considering you were exclusively referred to as “the number 2′s brain-rotted whore”.

Once again, you tried not to listen. 

...

You awoke to the sounds of chaos. 

Shouting, crashes, explosions--

The walls of your prison shook as you scramble to stand, smashing your head into the low ceiling as you did.

Your vision spun as your staggered to the rusty bars, bracing yourself and hopelessly tugging as you had so many times before.

There was a crash particularly close, bits of debris falling from stone tunnels, frail support beams falling.

No. 

Your blood ran so cold, you couldn’t move. Your body went completely still at the bars as you switched between panic and rage. It wasn’t fair, none of it was, you didn’t even get to say fucking goodbye to him. No last words, you’d been plucked from the street on your commute however long ago.

Keigo had left early that morning too, letting you sleep in with a kiss to the forehead instead of his normal heapings of sleepy, dawn-time affections. You’d been clinging to those sleepy, half-memories as anchor over the days in the cramped caves.

And, in the end, that was all you would have. Cloudy recollections of Keigo’s raspy morning voice as the caves around you began to shift and crumble.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you tugged at the bars, trying fruitlessly to get past them. Frustration made your hands sweat and fear made them shake as they became littered with small cuts. 

With the next crash, just as close, a vibrant blur of red whizzed past your cell. The shock and gust from its speed sent you jolting back, a hand clasping over your heart.

“... Keigo?” 

You hadn’t even realized you said it aloud. 

Not until the blur, feathers, a bundle of a maybe thirty returned, hovered and spun in front of the bars.

“Keigo?”

The feathers shuddered.

It felt like you were dreaming.

“KEIGO!” 

You practically screamed, jolting against the bars. Though it wasn’t him, not really, he’d hear you through the feathers. One of them spilled through the bars, pressing to your chest and pushing you away as the rest of the warm sharpened and began to beat on the thick padlock.

Something about your bodily state must’ve changed, as the feather at your face moved to under your chin, sweeping over your jaw in a small motions. 

...

Even from afar, Keigo was trying to comfort you.

When he’d felt you on the end of one of the feather swarms he’d sent into the caves, he thought he’d imagined it. The quiet hesitance with which you practically gasped his name was so fucking soft, he almost missed it.

But, he didn’t, thank fucking god.

The villains had been smart, corralling their captives (beyond just you, unsurprisingly. The string of disappearances over the weeks prior had all been linked. There were at least a dozen other lovers and family members of heroes tucked away into the mountain side with you.) 

Hence, it was a whole operation to retrieve you all, with some of the most pissed off, downright enraged heroes leading the charge and preceding investigation.

And Keigo?

He’d been at the front of it. 

HIs PA had to convince him to get a few solid hours of sleep every few days, in an actual bed, rather than on the floor of his office, or one of the many conference rooms the rescue team was occupying. 

He’d been wasting away, quietly, but he hardly noticed. Food was secondary, drinking was a burden, and his other bodily needs were just holding him back. He had a singular goal--

To find you.

He’d torn up the skies and the earth for just a trace of you, after you’d been taken. And finally, he found it, in the side of a fucking mountain, and an operation was launched to get all of the taken back.

Problem was it was a fucking mountain. A cobbled together base for the villains made of old mine tunnels and shafts, and organic caves.

And infuriatingly, Keigo and his wings were too damn big to properly navigate them. So, even if you were found, he wouldn’t be there. He couldn’t be there to tell you that everything was okay.

He couldn’t guarantee your safety by his own hands, and it fucking hurt. 

That being said, his feathers had done a good enough job. 

He could feel your heart hammering as you neared the entrance.

And then Keigo saw you.

...

You stumbled from the blown out opening, a flurry of feathers on either side. The brawl was somewhere else in the cave, shut out from your mind as you followed the tugs and touches of the plumes.

And as you felt the rays of setting sun hit your cheeks, you caught sight of Keigo.

Before you could even open your mouth, and breath the sigh of relief you needed to, or cried his name like you wanted to, Keigo was on you, scooping you up and away from the shuddering caves. 

His grip was so tight, it hurt, but neither of you cared. Your arms had looped behind his head, burying themselves in his greasy hair as you hid your face in his neck. Keigo’s hands were shaking as they held you close to him, not wavering even when you returned to the stable, safe ground below. It teemed with heroes and medics, but no one dared to interrupt or get between the two of you.

They’d all seen how wrecked Hawks had become in pursuit of finding his partner.

Keigo lowered the two of you to the ground, all feathers returning and making his feathers thick and broad once more. They rose and curled around the two of you, sealing the world away.

Your mouth felt too dry as you tried to sit up, but Keigo wouldn’t let you. He kept a firm hand on your hip as he tore off one of his gloves with his teeth, keeping you in place in front him. 

When you tried to shift, he gathered you by your waist and crushed you to him. HIs chest shuddered and his shoulders quaked with the force he was wrapping you, and you returned it all, as much as you could.

“P-please,” Keigo’s voice broke. “I just gotta hold you for awhile, o-okay, Dove? You’re s-safe now. I’ve got you.”

And he did.

You pressed your cracked lips to his cheeks, lungs going tight as you wrestled for one of his clammy hands to hold.

“I-I know,” You sniffled, tears squished between your cheeks. You pressed your interlocked fingers to your lips, choking on a sob of pure relief. Whatever kisses you had planned to grace his knuckles with were swallowed elsewhere.

Keigo pulled your face to his, hands and mouth hungry as he desperately kissed you, finally, nothing like the fleeting ones you both clung to while cruelly apart. It was messy, sloppy, but ringing with sweetness as Keigo sputtered and nipped at your lips.

“’M sorry,” He breathed, barely pulling away before slotting your lips together once more. 

As much as you wanted to reply, remind him that this wasn’t his fault, you words were too gummy and jumbled for anything meaningful.

So, you both settled for touch.

You stroked over each other’s sunken in eyes and dark circles. Keigo nipped at your dry lips, while you tasted the staleness of his breath. His bare hands braced against your back from just under the hem of your shirt,  feeling the deep chill in your skin and the residual dirt and grime.

You finally mustered up some words, the mix of so many needs and desires that needed sating.

“K-Keigo?” You lingered as close as you could, craving the heat and mingling of your breaths. “I-I want to go home.”

His breath caught and his grip got tighter still.

“Can we go home?” You asked, soft and breaking as you fell into the safety of his arms.

“Y-yeah,” Keigo pressed his teary cheeks to the top of your head, letting out a final shaking breath of relief. Keeping his words firm as firm as his touch, he put every ounce of ease that he could offer into his words:

“Let’s go home, dove.” 

[levithestripper]

OTP questions 1-5

relationship: rarzaga (dani rojas/philly barzaga)

warnings: none

ask game: otp 20 questions

a/n: hii omg sorry for the long wait!!! i've been super busy recently but here you go 😌

1. what’s their love language?

Philly's love language is 100% quality time and physical touch. He needs constant attention or else the poor guy will melt. When Dani is away from the Montero Farm for too long (which is all of the time), the moment he comes back Philly is leaping into his arms like he hasn't seen him in years. He drags him back to bed where they spend the rest of the day napping together.

Dani's love languages are pretty similar to Philly's, but in addition to physical touch and quality time, he also has gift-giving. Which mostly consists of pretty rocks he finds along his travels or a homemade card on a special day. Philly has each and every rock on display on his nightstand. He refuses to put them in his drawer or in a bag or a jar because he insists that they'll get offended if they're split from the others.

2. who confesses first?

I'm a huge sucker for flustered and shy Dani, so Philly always confesses first, no matter the AU. When Philly confesses, it's in a roundabout way where he can backtrack and claim he was confessing about something else if Dani rejects him. During the whole thing, Dani is panicking, thinking to himself, "oh my god oh my fucking god holy shit does Philly like me back oh my god." There's no punctuation going on in his poor gay brain it's one big messy word jumble.

3. who plans the dates?

It's pretty even!! They're both insanely busy fighting against the dictatorship so it's hard to plan dates in advance, so whenever they both happen to have free time they make do. Philly likes to have domestic at-home dates like cooking dinner for him, movie night, or a sleepover. Dani can't get enough of them, but he does enjoy going out once in a while too, so he typically plans those dates.

4. who’s the better driver?

Neither. They both suck ass at driving. Never get in a car with them. You will die. Philly has totaled fewer cars than Dani has, so if you absolutely have to pick between them, Philly is a slightly better driver.

5. who likes to be the little spoon?

Philly! Nine times out of ten, Philly will end up being the little spoon. They may not even start out spooning, but when they wake up in the morning, Dani will have his arms wrapped tightly around Philly's midsection. Dani won't budge, either. If Philly starts to wiggle around or tries to get up to go pee, he'll just hold onto him tighter until he gives up trying to get out of bed.

@its-deputy-caleb >:)

[yee-fxcking-haw]

Ok but- listen. Shinsou + midnight trips to his S/o dorm room just to cuddle them when he has insomnia/nightmares

MY. HEART. THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST 🥺

•A Weary Head•

Summary: Very short and sweet, needy sleepy Toshi, lots of cuddles.

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader (both 18+)

Warnings: None this is straight innocent fluff.

A/N: I have always been and always will be a slut for sleepy cuddly Shinsou my GOD it just- *slams fists on desk* it slaps.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Once he's out of his room, he moves silently down the halls like a zombie. His chest feels tight without you, his thoughts feel jumbled. He needs to feel you, steady and warm and safe in his arms. Then he can rest.

He moves like he's on autopilot, having made this late night trip to your dorm room many times. He always feels guilty waking you up, especially when you sleep so peacefully. You always reassure him abundantly that he never has to be sorry, that you're always willing to help him. It makes his heart soar, how dedicated you are to loving him.

He sneaks into your room without a sound, padding across the floor before he stands beside your bed. He stands there for a moment, full of adoration, loving how you look so pretty, so soft.

He almost turns around, leaving you to sleep undisturbed, but then you shift.

Your body has almost developed a clock for his visits, pulling you out of sleep just in time for him to arrive and crawl into bed with you.

"Toshi? That you?" You mumble, eyes still closed as you roll to your back, thankful for the presence of your sweet boy.

"Mhmm... Couldn't sleep." He admits in a whisper, shifting on his feet slightly.

Aa soon as he speaks, you throw open the covers for him, welcoming him into your sleepy, warm world.

"C'mere." You slur out, waving your hand for him to climb in, eyelids still shut and heavy.

He does so urgently, clambering into the blankets as he lays his head on your chest. In your fuzzy haze, you lean down and kiss his forehead as you settle the blankets over your bodies.

He wraps his arms around your waist as the tightness in his chest lessens, melted away by you're cozy embrace.

"What's wrong, hon?" You wonder out loud, one hand coming up to run soothing lines through his purple mane.

He scrunches his eyes closed, buries his face into your chest and groans. It's a low, defeated sound.

"My brain's too busy." He says against you, words muffled by your clothes and the blankets.

"What's it doin'?" You pry gently, letting your other hand trace down his spine.

He waits for a moment, silently taking count of his messy thoughts.

"Do you think I can do it?" He asks, his voice is so small, almost tearful.

You blink your eyes open and look down at him as he shifts to rest his chin on your sternum. His eyes are so red, bloodshot from sleep deprivation. Heavy bags sit under his soft, lavender eyes. It tugs at your heart, he deserves sleep, he deserves rest.

"Do what, baby?" You ask softly, running your thumb over his forehead.

"Be a good hero?" He sounds so child-like, so full of optimism and doubt all at the same time.

Your hand drops to his cheek, he melts into the touch instantly, sighing deeply.

"I know you can." You do, you absolutely do.

"They all think I'm gonna be a villain." His eyes close again, face scrunching with worry.

"Toshi." You say firmly, causing him to open his eyes and look at you with a doe like gaze, "Are you gonna be a villain?"

He shakes his head without a word, but his eyes are busy with unsaid words, his brain inevitably still swamped with unspoken worries.

"Sweetheart, you're not. You're brave, and capable, and so full of such beautiful, unique power. You're going to be a spectacular hero." You keep your voice low and steady as you speak, watching his face unscrew from it's tight posture.

He breathes in to talk, violet eyebrows immediately pinching together again.

"And anyone that says otherwise can suck my dick." You say firmly, earning a deep chuckle from him.

"I'm sorry for waking you again." He says, hands fidgeting with the back of your shirt.

"Never be sorry. I would spend every second awake with you if I could, I'm just a lot meaner than you when I don't sleep." You both chuckle at that, both very aware of how cranky you can get.

"I love you." He breathes out as he lays his head back on its side, pressing his ear to your heartbeat.

"I love you more, get some rest, Toshi."

With one long breath in and out, he does, he finally does. Wrapped in your arms, covered in your love. Safe and sound.

[fanfictionaries]

The Seduction of Sirius Black - Part 2

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Sirius Black

Summary:

Hermione loves her boyfriend, but there’s just one little problem -- she’s hopelessly attracted to Sirius Black.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Ron bashing (sorry)

Author’s Note: Part 2 is up and now I must go and study for my exam Wednesday! 

MASTERLIST

Part 1

Her head was pounding. Pounding so hard behind her eyes that she thought she might throw up. In fact…Hermione flung her covers off of her, bolted to the bathroom attached to her room, and lifted the lid just in time to expel the contents of her stomach into the white porcelain. She heaved and heaved until there was nothing left for her to throw up, and then she heaved again for good measure. Wracked with full body convulsions, Hermione let her forehead lean against the cool porcelain of the toilet’s edge and vowed to never drink whiskey again. Why? Why had she drunk so much? Oh, right. The events of the previous afternoon came into her mind and Hermione gave another dry heave into the toilet bowl in response.

Ron. Ron was cheating on her. For how long? Was that witch the only one? Who else knew? Did Harry know? Did everyone know? Oh Gods…this was a disaster. No wonder she’d gotten so sloshed. And she was well and truly sloshed. She didn’t even remember paying her tab or how she got home. She sort of remembered getting into the house; there’d been an issue with her key, and she’d tripped quite a lot coming in and then—

Oh no.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

Hermione sat up with a gasp, a jolt of pain shooting through her head that made her groan and lay back down against the cool porcelain. It all came rushing back, her stupid drunk giggles, her blatant stares as she ogled Sirius in the hallway, her kissing him, him kissing her, his mouth on her—oh god, her hand on his—and then he’d stopped her and she’d…she’d stomped off like a petulant child! Hermione wanted to die. If she hadn’t thought the hangover was a bad enough pain to cause suicidal thoughts, then the memories of what she’d done the night before certainly were. What did she do now?

Her brain churned, slowly and painfully, certainly not operating at its usual capability. Damn whiskey. What did people normally do when they made horrible drunken mistakes? Hermione thought back to the one or two times her friends had made absolute arses of themselves while out drinking. They usually spent the next day apologizing over and over again, that is if they even—

That was it! She’d simply pretend like she didn’t remember any of it. That would put the pieces into Sirius’s hands. If he was offended enough by her actions, he’d tell her what happened (a mortifying thought), but if he was just as embarrassed by it as her, then he’d lie and say nothing happened at all. It was like a get out of jail free card, so to speak.

Rising gingerly to her feet, Hermione was barely vertical when a hard knock at her bedroom door sent her reeling back. She gasped, sending shooting pain through her skull once again, and tripped backwards, barely catching herself on the shower curtain. Thankfully, they didn’t rip from the rod, otherwise she’d have a hangover and likely a very nasty bump on her head to deal with. She had just resorted herself firmly on her feet when another, louder knock came at her door, and Hermione jumped again, cursing very loudly.

“Bloody hell!” Her pulse thumped violently in her chest and in her ears as she brought a hand up to her heart, surprisingly out of breath for very little physical exertion. She froze, staring blankly at the dark grain of her door. “Who is it?” she called out, wincing as her headache persisted. Who is it? Who did she think it was? She only lived with one person.

“It’s me, open up!”

Hermione sighed with relief at the sound of the distinctly feminine and more importantly not Sirius voice from the other side.

“It’s unlocked, come on it,” Hermione called back, allowing herself to slump against the sink as she reached for her toothbrush and toothpaste. There was a taste in her mouth she needed to be rid of, and Hermione had the sinking feel that it wasn’t just from to the amount of vomiting she’d been doing that morning.

The door swung open, slamming hard against the wall with a great thud. Hermione winced at the sound, wetting her toothbrush and globbing an exorbitant amount of toothpaste onto it.

“Sorry,” said Ginny, looking sheepish at her loud entrance as she padded into the room, arms full. Hermione spotted the contents of her arms and if it weren’t for her hungover state, she could have sung.

“Please tell me one of those coffees is for me,” said Hermione, desperately, mouth full of frothy toothpaste. She spat into the sink and washed away the frothy spit with water from the tap before returning to brutally brushing her teeth and gums.

“It is—” Ginny grinned devilishly as she set the large paper cup down next to Hermione and held up a large brown bag “—and so is one of these pasties.”

Hermione gasped, spitting into the sink, and rinsing it again before rinsing her toothbrush as well. She set the brush down on the counter and snatched the bag from Ginny’s hands. Digging deep into the grease-stained paper bag she pulled a wrapped Cornish pasty. “Is it—”

“Potato and onion, just like you like,” answered Ginny, already knowing her question before it left Hermione’s mouth.

“I mean this with all honesty and from the bottom of my heart, Gin – you are my favorite person in the world,” she handed the bag back to Ginny before taking her pasty and her coffee out of the bathroom and to her bed. She sat down heavily on the messy blankets and propped herself against the headboard before taking a deep sip of coffee. Good. So good.

“And I mean this with all honesty and from the bottom of my heart – you look like shit,” said Ginny, sitting down at the end of the bed and pulling out her own pasty.

Hermione groaned, leaning her head against the headboard, and running a hand down her face, “Ugh, I know.  It was an…interesting day yesterday.”

“Yes, I heard. Sirius said—”

“What did he say?” Hermione asked, voice sounding a bit too guilty in her opinion.

Ginny gave her a curious look before continuing, “Just that you got home late last night, pissed off your arse. He said you came stumbling in giggling up a storm. What were you drinking?”

Hermione relaxed a bit knowing that Sirius hadn’t mentioned what happened after she came stumbling in. “Whiskey—” Hermione gagged just at the thought “—and too much of it.”

“Yes, well, when you find out your boyfriends been slagging around on you, I guess a large amount of alcohol is warranted,” said Ginny pointedly, finally getting straight to the point.

Hermione sighed, her body deflating as she tore open her Cornish pasty and took a large bite. “So you know then,” said Hermione through a mouth full of potato and onion.

Ginny nodded, now giving her a pitying look. Hermione hated that look. It was the same look she got all through sixth year when Ron was dating Lavender, snogging her all around the corner every chance he got. Apparently, some things never changed.

“And…how long have you known?” Hermione hated herself for asking but she had to – for her own sanity’s sake.

“Oh! —” Ginny’s eyes grew wide “—I just found out last night. I swear. He came round to ours right after he saw you. Scared the bogeys out of Harry and me. We thought he was still on assignment. We were just sitting down to some takeout and he burst through the fireplace, tracking soot across the rug, talking about how he’d messed up. Harry nearly hexed him before we realized it was him.”

Hermione sat back, taking another bite from her pasty. She chewed slowly, a little more relaxed that she now knew the secret of Ron’s infidelity was not just a secret to her. She swallowed her bite and then asked, “So, what did he say happened?”

Ginny frowned; her eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Well…it was all sort of a jumble at first but once we got him to sit and calm down, he basically confessed to it all. He said he’d been seeing someone else…behind your back. Behind everyone’s back. He told us how he’d been getting back from assignments earlier than he said he was to spend time with her. Apparently, she works at Flourish and Blotts.”

Hermione balked. She knew she’d seen the witch somewhere before. Of course! She was the new register girl at Flourish and Blotts. Hermione had seen her before when her and Ron went in to…oh Gods, she was going to be sick again. Ginny must have seen the look on Hermione’s face because she thrust the paper bag in Hermione’s direction and scoot a bit further back on the bed. Hermione took it, giving Ginny a grateful look, but setting it aside. No, she was not going to be sick again. Instead, she took another large sip of coffee, hoping the caffeine would soon bring relief to her aching head.

“I know. I know,” said Ginny commiseratingly. “Obviously, Harry and I were furious. I had to hold Harry back from physically attacking him and the only reason Ron’s arse wasn’t hexed off his body was because my wand was upstairs. I’m…I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

“Did he…” Hermione hesitated, unsure of whether she wanted to ask her next question, but knowing she’d drive herself crazy if she didn’t. “Did he say how long it’s being going on? Are they serious?”

Ginny pursed her lips, giving Hermione another one of those pitying looks. “I don’t think you want to know…”

“Just tell me Gin. I’m going to find out either way.”

Ginny swallowed thickly before answering, “Six months.”

“Six months?!” Hermione nearly shrieked, bringing a hand up to her head when it gave a surging pulse of pain. Merlin, she needed a pain potion in the worst way. Well, that answered her second question. If they’d been seeing each other six months, then it was definitely serious. Still, six months…that was a third of her and Ron’s relationship. Thinking back she realized that six months ago was around the time Ron stopped showing her affection and started spending more and more time away on assignments.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” Ginny apologized again. Hermione didn’t really know what she was sorry for though. Ginny wasn’t the one who’d been shagging someone else behind her back for half a year, thought Hermione bitterly. “I just want you to know that everyone’s on your side. Harry practically threw Ron out of our flat last night and told him to not come back until he’d figured out a way to fix things and I owled mum and dad the minute he left. I told mum to let him have her worst. The bastard deserves it.”

Hermione sighed, setting her pasty and coffee down on the nightstand, suddenly no longer hungry. So everyone knew now then. Great. A small part of her had hoped she could go a bit of time in denial. She hoped she could keep it a secret for just a bit before it became a big…thing.

“I guess I should have seen it coming,” Hermione finally said. “He’s been gone so much lately, and I’ve tried to be understanding, but he’s also been pulling away. I thought it might have been something I did…something we could fix, but.” Hermione shrugged, as if to say, ‘What can you do’.

Ginny frowned even deeper before asking, “Do you still want to? Fix it, I mean.”

Hermione frowned as well, thinking hard on her answer before shaking her head and saying, “No. No, I don’t.”

Ginny seemed a bit sad at her answer – perhaps disappointed that they would no longer one day be sisters but gave her a reassuring look all the same. “I completely understand. In my opinion he doesn’t deserve a second chance. I mean, what he’s done is so vile and unforgivable! I can’t believe—”

“Ginny—” Hermione cut of Ginny’s newly rising anger, suddenly feeling very tired “—thank you. Really, I appreciate you coming over here to comfort me. I just, I think I need a bit of alone time now. The last twenty-four hours have been exhausting and I think I just need a bit of a lie down.”

“Oh—” Ginny stood, collecting the trash from their breakfast “—of course. I’ll get out of your hair. Take as much time today as you need. You deserve it. Harry already called you in sick for the rest of the week and I’ll stop by tomorrow to see if you’re up for lunch.”

Merlin’s balls – work. She’d completely forgotten about work! It was only Wednesday. Burying herself into the confines of her duvet, Hermione thanked the stars for Harry Potter. Ginny gave her a soft kiss on the forehead before slipping out of the room. Hermione’s eyes had just closed, the pounding in her head all too apparent now that it was quiet when another knock came from the door.

“Come on in,” Hermione mumbled, voice groggy now that her muscles were relaxed, and her stomach was full of pasty. Ginny must have forgotten something.

“Sorry, Ginny said you were just about to have a lie down, but I thought you might need this first.”

Hermione froze at the sound of Sirius’s voice. Steeling herself, she rolled over and looked up at the older wizard with bated breath. He looked…fine. Calm even. How did he look so calm? He made his way across the room to the side of her bed and held out a small vial of pain potion to her. Hermione sat up a little, taking the vial from him. She uncorked it and tipped it past her lips, letting the bitter liquid slide down her past her tongue and down her throat. Pulling a face at the taste, she grabbed her coffee from the nightstand and chased it, before settling back in her bed.

“Thank you,” she said, purposefully avoiding looking at Sirius directly.

“Sure thing, kitten. How are you feeling?”

“Better, but still not my best,” Hermione answered, wishing more than anything Sirius would just leave. She wasn’t prepared for this. She needed at least four more hours of sleep and maybe another shot of whiskey before she was ready for this conversation. “Did…Ginny tell you what happened?”

Sirius nodded, and then much to her despair, he sat down on the edge of her bed. Hermione scooted her legs over, putting as much space between her body and his as she could without being too obvious.

“It certainly explains last night,” said Sirius, letting out a low and breathy laugh.

Hermione felt her face go hot, and she was sure she was as red as a tomato. However, if there was ever a time to put her plan from that morning into action, it was then.

“I’m so sorry you had to see me like that,” she began, looking down at her lap as she fingered the fabric of the duvet. “I’m ashamed to say I was so drunk I don’t even remember getting home. I hope I didn’t do anything too embarrassing like puke on your shoes, or something.”

There was a brief silence before Sirius cleared his throat and said, “No, no. Nothing like that.”

“Really?” Hermione asked, looking up in surprise. Sirius looked back at her, his grey eyes open and friendly. He gave her a small smile.

“Really,” he responded. “Although if you had puked on my shoes, I wouldn’t really blame you. No need to feel embarrassed for getting a bit too drunk. Can’t say I’d do much better if I’d been in your position.”

Hermione gave a weak laugh in response.

“Now,” continued Sirius. “You get some rest.” He stood and walked towards the door. He was halfway out of the door, handle in his grasp when Hermione called out to him.

“Sirius.”

The wizard turned, giving her a surprised look mixed with, was it worry? Concern? Hermione couldn’t tell. Her tongue faltered, stuck behind her teeth as she realized she had no idea why she’d called out his name. Swallowing thickly she gave him a smile that she hoped looked natural and said, “Thank you, again.”

“Of course, kitten.”

***

“How are you feeling?” Ginny asked, that same pitying look on her face.

Her and Harry sat across the table from Hermione at a small café in Diagon Alley. Just like Ginny had promised, she arrived exactly at noon the following day to see if Hermione was up for lunch. Hermione, who’d been hiding in her room, avoiding a certain older, dark-haired wizard found that she couldn’t say no. She was going stir-crazy and as even a quick trip to the kitchen seemed like too much of a risk, she was starving as well. So, there she was, sat across from the picture of marital bliss, wondering how long it really took to make a sandwich and chips.

Harry, thankfully, wasn’t giving her the same sad look Ginny was. In fact, if she had to put a word to how he looked she’d call it ‘uncomfortable’. He was having a hard time meeting Hermione’s eyes and he kept moving his hands from under the table to on top of it, his thumbs twiddling together.

Hermione sighed at Ginny’s question, bringing a hand up to her temple and rubbing the tired, tender flesh. While her hangover was well and past, she still felt exhausted – strung out really, despite the amount of extra sleep she’d gotten. She blamed Sirius Black for that. Despite every fiber of her being telling her that Ron’s infidelity should have been the main focus of her mind, instead she’d been unable to think of anything but the fact that Sirius Black had let their little tryst be swept under the rug surprisingly easily.

“I’m alright,” Hermione answered, giving Ginny a tired smile.

She should be alright – with the fact that Sirius played along with her little alcohol-induced memory loss game. It’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? The whole reason she’d decided to lie to him was so that he would have an out. So that the two of them could pretend like it never happened. So that they’d never have to have the uncomfortable ‘We almost drunkenly shagged in the hallway’ conversation. Well, she had been drunk. What was his excuse?

“Are you sure?” Ginny asked again.

Hermione looked around the café, hoping to see their waitress coming just around the corner with her food. No such luck.

“Heard anything from Ron?” Hermione asked, surprised that of all things, she’d rather distract herself with the topic of Ron cheating on her than think about Sirius Black.

Ginny shook her head. “We haven’t heard anything, and mum says he hasn’t showed up to the Burrow, which means—”

“He’s been staying somewhere else…like his girlfriend’s place,” Hermione finished for her, her mouth going sour.

A tense silence filled the space around them at the table. It made sense that he would rather stay there than go home and face his mother’s wrath. Did the other witch know about Hermione? She wondered what Ron had told her – if he had told her anything. When she had realized who Hermione was, she seemed to remain friendly enough and she didn’t seem worried. It was common knowledge that her and Ron had been dating. It had been front page news in the Daily Prophet. So what then? Had Ron told this witch too? Had he told her that they were broken up? Perhaps someone should tell her…

“I feel like I should do something,” said Harry, breaking the silence. “I—do you—would it make you feel better if I beat the shit out of him?”

Hermione laughed. Actually laughed, fully and whole-heartedly. “No, Harry. That’s not necessary but thank you. I appreciate the gesture.”

Harry smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Alright then. Just thought I’d ask.”

They fell into a silence again and Hermione found herself looking out the café window for something to do. Her thoughts drifted back to Sirius. After lunch she’d have to go home. Usually she’d kill a few hours by going into Flourish and Blotts, but it felt a bit off-limits at the moment. Not needing any new robes or potions ingredients and having no reason stop by Gringotts, her only option was to go back to Grimmauld Place. She’d have to face Sirius sooner than later, she thought despondently. Still, maybe she could go into Muggle London if she found herself lacking in courage by the time lunch was over.

“Harry, did you have to use the restroom?” asked Ginny, bringing Hermione out of her thoughts. She looked up at the two of them across from her and saw Ginny looking at her husband with wide eyes.

“No?” Harry responded, looking back at his wife in confusion.

“No, no. I’m pretty sure you said when we got here that you needed to use the loo.”

“I think I’d remember if I said—”

“Harry. Bathroom,” said Ginny through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing.

Harry eyes grew wide in both fright and understanding before he made a fidgeting motion, turning slight in his seat. “Right, um, yeah. I forgot. I’ll just—”

Harry stood, walking briskly through the café towards the back hallway where the bathrooms were.

Hermione watched him go, brow furrowed in confusion. Well that was odd. Looking back at Ginny, she found the redheaded Weasley girl staring fixedly at her.

“Everything alright, Gin?” she asked nervously.

“What aren’t you telling me?” asked Ginny, her tone blunt and accusatory.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Hermione’s palms began to sweat. She couldn’t possibly…unless Sirius mentioned something. Did he?

“Hermione. I’ve known you for nearly eight years now. I know when there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Hermione chewed her lip, meeting Ginny’s sure gaze. A raging war battled within Hermione’s head as she sat in the café, the vinyl bench seat squeaking under her restless legs. Should she tell Ginny? If she didn’t, the girl would surely badger her until she did. And Hermione did really need a second opinion on her predicament – needed to tell someone or she might just go insane.

“Promise not to judge me too harshly?” Hermione asked, wringing her wrist in her hand.

“Hermione, of course I won’t judge you—” Ginny’s expression softened “—What is it? You can tell me.”

“You know how I went out drinking Tuesday night after finding out about Ron?”

“Yes…” Ginny drew out the word, her voice lilting up into a question almost.

“And you know how I came stumbling home drunk off my arse?”

“Yeah,” Ginny snorted. “I would have paid big money to see it.”

“Well, when I got home I…I…well you see I—”

“Hermione, just spit it out.”

“I snogged Sirius!” Hermione blurted the words, covering her mouth with both palms as if she could scoop the words out of the air and push them back down her throat. She glanced around her hurriedly, realizing only then that she’d practically yelled out for all to hear that she’d made out with Sirius Black, godfather to famous Harry Potter.

Ginny stared at her, wide-eyed and mouth hung open very much not unlike Ron from two nights previous.

“It—well I was drunk, and I got home, and Sirius was there, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt, you see. And I just…he looked so fit, you know? And I thought, well if Ron can go off and shag someone while we’re dating then surely, I can snog someone else now that we’re no longer dating. So I did.”

Ginny continued to stare at her in shock. Hermione swallowed thickly.

“Ginny, please say something. I’m almost positive I will go barking mad if you don’t.”

“I…I’m not quite sure what to say. Sirius? As in Sirius Black?”

“Yes.”

“Our Sirius Black?”

“Yes.”

“The Sirius Black you live with?”

“Yes.”

“Sirius Black – the godfather of my husband, Sirius Black?”

“Oh for crying out loud, yes Ginny. Sirius Black. That Sirius Black. I snogged Sirius Black,” Hermione bit, now rubbing both of her temples.

“Merlin’s beard…” said Ginny in a tone of disbelief.

“I know,” responded Hermione.

“How was it?”

“Ginny!” Hermione looked across the table at her friend in disbelief. The redhead was grinning back at her mischievously.

“What?! Inquiring minds want to know, Hermione Granger. You can’t just tell me something that juicy and not expect me to have questions.”

“Well yes, but I rather thought the questions in question would be more like ‘What were you thinking?’, ‘Why did you do that?’, ‘What are you going to do?’. Not, ‘How hot was it?’” laughed Hermione in bewilderment.

“So, it was hot then,” said Ginny, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh Merlin…” Hermione sighed, resting her head in her hands.

“Okay but in all seriousness, I do need all the details. So start from the beginning and don’t leave anything out.” Ginny leaned forward in her seat, crossing her arms on the tabletop, and looking at Hermione expectantly.

Hermione sighed, but figured she owed it to Ginny to tell her the whole thing. Except, while Ginny was probably expecting the beginning to be her stumbling through the front door Tuesday night, nearly falling ass over tits, in reality, Hermione was going to need to start much further back than that. Hermione took a deep breath and then opened her mouth and told Ginny everything.

“Wow…”

“I know,” Hermione moaned, rubbing her palms down her face once again.

They were quiet before a moment before Ginny spoke, “So how are we going to get you two in the sack?”

“What?” Hermione asked in surprise. “You mean you’re not upset with me for more or less emotionally cheating on your brother?”

Ginny shrugged. “He actually cheated on you. I think it’s pretty fair.”

“Okay…” said Hermione slowly. “Isn’t it a bit wrong to be moving on so quickly? I mean last night I couldn’t really fault myself. I was drunk.”

“You’re not still hung up on my brother, are you?”

Hermione paused for a moment, already knowing her answer before it slipped past her lips. She had loved Ron, she still loved Ron in a way. But they’d been growing apart for quite some time. His infidelity was just the nail in the coffin for their relationship.

“Not really, no,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Good,” said Ginny simply, an acrid bite to it. “He doesn’t deserve you wallowing over him.”

They sat for a moment, letting the statement marinate in the space between them. But then Hermione spoke again, unable to now stop her racing mind and worries, “You don’t think he’s a bit too old for me?”

Ginny snorted. “You say old, I say experienced.”  

Hermione’s cheeks grew hot at the implication of Ginny’s words. A flash of the night before came to mind and she knew she couldn’t say Ginny was wrong.

“Okay, well then what about Harry?”

“Merlin Hermione! Harry will be fine! He doesn’t even have to know if you don’t want him to. I’ll keep your secret and I’m sure Sirius would too if you asked. Are you trying to come up with excuses not to do this?” Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No! I just…last night he rejected me. It leaves a witch feeling a bit apprehensive,” said Hermione, looking down at her hands now clasped together on top of the table.

“Hey,” said Ginny softly, bringing Hermione’s attention up. “He turned you down because you were drunk, Hermione. It’s a pretty bloody gentlemanly thing to do. Plus, he only turned you down after he had a taste. It’s obvious he couldn’t help himself.”

“You think?” asked Hermione, catching Harry walking back across the café from the restroom.

Ginny, spotting her distracted look, turned her head and acknowledged her fast approaching husband. She leaned forward across the table and lowered her voice, “I’m positive. Sirius is clearly attracted to you. We just have to make him realize that you’re both available and willing.”

“How are we going to do that?” Hermione whispered back.

“Simple. Hermione Granger, you are going to seduce Sirius Black.”

[mrs-han]

Wild Confession

His mouth fell open as soon as he stepped foot inside the penthouse. When he told you to make yourself at home, he certainly didn't imagine you opening three bottles of wine that he had intended to drink later that same night. Three glasses sat on different countertops -- and from what he could see, there was a small stain on the edge of the carpet.

"MC?" He called for you, taking off his suit jacket. He only hoped you tolerated alcohol as promptly as he did -

"Jumin!"

Your head bobbed from behind the kitchen island as you called his name. Your hair was in a messy bob, your bra strap blatantly showing through your shirt - and you were clearly very drunk.

Jumin couldn't help but let out a defeated sigh.

"You're home early!" You smiled through slightly slurred words. "I thought I... I thought... I thought you were going to be at the office all night!"

"I thought the same," Jumin replied slowly, trying to determine how drunk you were by sight and sound. "But I couldn't stand the thought of being away from you for another minute."

"D'aww, you're so sweet!" You giggled. "Y-you know, I've been waiting for you all day because, be-because, I have something important to tell you. And y-you can't tell anyone else what I'm gonna tell you, okay!"

Jumin held in another sigh. With you being as drunk as you were, there wasn't a chance you would remember anything you told him. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow - should he take what you say seriously?

Feeling his emotional defenses spiking, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I think you should withhold anything you wish to tell me for now." A blush crept upon his cheeks as he nervously fiddled with his tie. "Besides... we will have all the time in the world."

"No, no, no!" You protested, a pout upon your lips. "What I have to tell you is so, so, so important that it can't wait!"

"MC -"

"I have... the... biggest crush on you!"

He froze. His eyes widened, his heart skipped a beat, he swore he felt a bead of sweat breaking on the back of his neck... and he blushed madly. So much so that he felt the tips of his fingers growing numb. There was no way he heard that right - he shook off the warm, fuzzy feelings churning in his stomach. No, no. You were drunk. You didn't know what you were talking about, or what you were saying. Jumin turned away and quickly collected the empty glasses of wine.

"Did you hear me?" You asked, pressing your stomach to the back of the couch. "I've liked you since...! Since... since our second or third conversation..." you scratched the back of your head. "I forget..."

Jumin placed the glasses by the sink. His expression stern, he walked to the bed and pushed the sheets back.

"But, but I don't like you because you have a lot of money or because you have the most beautiful baritone voice I have ever heard. I like you because... be, because... because you're so kind, an... and so full of good intentions, as much as you deny it!"

"MC..." Jumin closed his eyes, further shutting out the fluttering feeling in his stomach. "You're drunk, lady. Come, let's get you to bed."

"No, no! I'm telling you the truth!" You hollered, clamoring after him as he walked calmly towards the bed.

Don't be stupid. Understand her state of mind. She isn't thinking clearly. She doesn't know what she's saying. Jumin desperately tried to think up excuses for you for the sake of his heart... but his rational mind slowed as his emotions boiled.

"It's totally okay if you don't like me back," you slurred slightly, dragging yourself from the couch towards the bed. "I'm not near... nearly as glamorous as the..." you waved your hand as if trying to come up with the right word for high society women. "... The... you know."

As easy as it was for him not to look at you, those words of yours caught his attention. You smiled lopsidedly at him - he felt his ears burn. Your eyes had finally met with his, further jumbling his emotions towards you. How could you be so cruel?

"Get in bed," Jumin cooed softly, extending his hand to you.

"You're avoiding me on purpose," you pouted, grabbing his hand and falling back onto the mattress.

Jumin pulled the blankets up over your body and rested his hand atop your forehead. "I promise. It is safer for both of us. Sleep."

After mumbling a few incoherent words, you closed your eyes and began to drift... while a storm of questions evaded Jumin's mind.

Did you really mean what you said? Had you really liked him so early after speaking with him? Really? How? When? What time, where were you when you discovered these feelings? Were you with anyone else? Did you tell anyone else? Did he need to set up an investigation into the matter? It was far better to ask you than to further speculate. Yes, he had to ask you immediately else the endless questions in his mind would drive him mad.

Jumin removed his hand from your forehead and leaned forward. "MC?"

But just his luck... you had already fallen asleep. He knew it couldn't rely on luck, but he was somehow hoping it could side with him every now and again.

With a huff, he stood from the bed and made his way to the empty wine bottles. Yes... wine sounded like a good idea.

~~~

"Ugh..."

You sat up slowly, the wine from the night before still making its rounds through your system. "Not good," you murmured, rubbing your eyes and lazily observing the room.

That's right. You were still in the penthouse. But where was...

"Good morning."

Shame and panic bolted you upright, any sensations of a hangover were long gone thanks to the sight of Jumin. He stood with a cup of black coffee in one hand and a plate of fruit in the other, his expression turgid.

"Jumin...!"

He set the plate on the bed and the mug on the nightstand. "How are you? You had quite the night last night, it seems."

"I... ugh. I'm so sorry. I tend to get really carried away when I'm drinking wine, and -"

"Don't apologize. I told you, didn't I? Treat this place as your home."

You continued to stare apologetically at him while he did everything in his power to prevent his emotions from being shown. Your words continued to ring in his ear: "I... have... the biggest crush on you!"

"Please tell me I didn't speak to you last night," you groaned, running your hand over your face.

Oh. But you did. "You uttered a few words," Jumin replied, his poker face still in play.

"Oh man... what did I say?"

"I've liked you since... since... our second or third conversation... I forget..."

Jumin's eyes wandered down to his sleeves. "Nothing of major importance."

"Ah, good... you know, I tend to babble when I've had a little too much to drink," you smiled bashfully. "I was afraid I told you... well..."

"Told me what?" Jumin looked directly at you, burning to ask you the questions that went unanswered the night before.

"... Nothing," you blushed.

The pride of men. Jumin had grown tired of it, seeing how it had destroyed so many opportunities for him in the past. He would not let this opportunity with you pass him by. He moved closer to you, a sparkling determination in his eyes. "Actually... you muttered a few words that I can't seem to get out of my head."

You froze. "I did?"

"You did. It was something along the lines of... a strong emotion. One that no man can truly battle against."

"... Really?"

"Mmhm." Jumin hummed, brushing your matted bangs from your face, finding any excuse to be near you. "Now, I may not be up to date on the terms youth uses these days..."

You giggled. He closed the remaining gap between you both. His mouth moved over your ear as if he was to tell you a sacred secret. "But I believe... you have a crush on someone."

"... Maybe," you squeaked, sweat breaking out on the back of your neck.

"Perhaps..." Jumin's silky voice ran through the crevices of your ear, straight to your brain before finally settling within your heart. "You should tell him how you feel."

"Y... You're right... I'll tell Zen immediately."

Jumin pulled away. "What."

"Hah! So I did say something to you last night!"

His poker face long gone, Jumin blushed and looked away. "To throw Zen into the conversation so suddenly. You're a naughty girl, aren't you?"

You closed your eyes and covered whatever you could of your face. "You played me too, it's only fair!"

"Then, let's get back to the matter at hand." Jumin's fingers wrapped around your wrists, pulling your hands from your face. "Look at me."

Your nervous eyes met with his - and you swore you could detect a timid nature surrounding him, regardless of how powerful he seemed.

"Repeat it," he hummed, his eyes traversing down to your lips.

"I... I have a crush on you..."

"Again."

"I have a crush on you -"

"One more time."

"... I -"

[harrysweasleys]

a lesson in chemistry // r.l

summary: hey! i was wondering if you could do one where the reader does really bad in a test and remus comforts her? thank u!!

warnings: none

word count: 2.6k

a/n: i am close to 1k and was thinking of doing an event but i know i’m gonna forget and it’s just not going to go well so i just wanna say THANK YOU to all you sweet sweet beings for following my mess of a blog! :)

——

Moonstone. Powdered porcupine quills. Powdered unicorn horn.

The three ingredients repeated themselves over and over in your head as you sat by yourself in the common room nearing two o’clock in the morning, the messy notebook spread open in front of you as your eyes tried to droop shut.

It was nearly impossible for you to focus on the fuzzy words, but you forced yourself to stay as awake as you possibly could so that tomorrow’s quiz would be a breeze. That’s why you were studying, wasn’t it?

Remus and Sirius had promised to help you out, but the two had trudged off to bed nearly an hour ago, practically already asleep. For two people who seemed so adamant on ‘all nighters’ they had gone to bed rather early, in your opinion. You quite missed their company — Remus more than Sirius — and wished you could at least have someone here to help keep your mind sharp.

But, here you were, all by your lonesome and wrapped in a scarlet and gold knitted blanket that your parents had made you, the crackling fireplace heating you up, and the words in front of you making you sleepy.

You couldn’t comprehend why no one else seemed stressed or even worked up about this quiz — exam, actually — which made studying it just that much more frustrating. You figured people would care about their marks and scores, right?

“The potion should result in a cool blue colour,” you mumbled to no one in particular, the words trying their best to etch into your brain, “A cool blue colour. Not to be mistaken with Draught of Peace which is a warm blue colour.”

You let out a quiet groan and rested your head against the back of the couch cushion. Potions class was never your strong suit, but you had found it fascinating. And, of course, hou didn’t want to seem like you were lost, so studying hours on end seemed to be the only passing solution here.

The large ticking clock on the wall told you it was five minutes past two o’clock, and the exam was at ten o’clock the next day. Only eight hours left for you to memorize every last word.

Eight hours.

As you glanced back down at the book, your eyes felt heavier than they were not a minute ago, and your head felt as if it were on a cloud. The room around you seemed to vanish down a long, long tunnel...

——

“D’you think if we poke her she’ll jump?”

“Sirius, that’s just rude.”

“C’mon, it’d be funny though. What if we poured pumpkin juice on her?”

“No, let’s just calmly wake her up.”

“You’re boring, Remus.”

Your eyes fluttered open to two overly familiar faces crouched in front of you. Remus, his hair messy and his eyes watching you cautiously, and Sirius with his signature smirk.

“Get out of my face,” you sat up, throwing the blanket off of and trying to figure out where you were. The Gryffindor common room felt very different when you were waking up in it.

The fire embers were burning low and the morning sunlight blazed through the windows, the room brighter than it had ever seemed before. The blanket was still comfortable draped over your body, warm and comforting, and the heavy textbook was still open on your lap with the page slightly crumpled as your hand rested upon it.

Suddenly, as if hit by a train once you noticed the book, you remembered, “Bloody hell, it’s the Potions quiz today.”

Remus chuckled, “Relax. It’s in, like, an hour.”

You threw the blanket off of your body and grabbed the book, shaking your head, “You don’t get it, Remus. I don’t know anything.”

“That can’t be true,” Remus furrowed his eyebrows at you.

Sirius pat you on the shoulder, sitting next to you on the couch and closing the book with a loud thump, “You’ll be fine. You just need to eat.”

So you let the two boys lead you down to the Great Hall, where the loud hustle and bustle of the early morning made it nearly impossible to focus on the jumble of words on the worn out pages in front of you. The book, although informative, was clearly written for someone who actually understood what the hell everything meant. And it was harder to understand anything when the ruckus around you made it difficult to even read said things.

It bothered you greatly that Remus — the person you considered your best friend — didn’t seem to care about the exam. Were you overreacting?

It wasn’t your fault, really. You took schoolwork very seriously and sometimes that meant overreacting. Over-studying. Over-planning. All of the above.

But, better to be safe than sorry — isn’t that the saying?

When the Great Hall crowd became dispersed, you knew that meant classes were beginning and you felt your nerves kick in at the thought. You shut the book rather loudly and followed Remus to the Potions classroom, no words being exchanged between the two of you — which you were thankful for, to be honest.

“You got this,” Remus flashed you a grin as you slowly walked into the class together, taking your usual seats in the middle. You didn’t like being too close, nor too far from the teacher. These seats were perfect.

“I don’t need false hope,” you groaned, resting your head on the table, “I need answers.”

He chuckled, “Sorry, you know me. I can’t cheat. But if this test goes wrong, I can tutor you.”

You lifted your head quickly, a bright red spot on your forehead from where it was previously pressed up against the wooden desk, “Wait, really? You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he smirked, running his hand through his hair in a stupidly attractive manner, “What are friends for?”

You flashed him a bright grin, “Oh, you’re the best, Remus.”

His cheeks turned slightly pink as he smiled back, lowering his head slightly as he flushed at the compliment. You felt your heart leap at his flustered state, unsure why the strange feeling decided to make its home in your chest.

You brushed it aside as the professor entered the class and handed out the quiz papers, making sure every student was silent and that no cheating would occur.

Within the first glance at the page, your heart sunk, all previous fluttery feelings gone. You had been so focused on remembering ingredients and potion colours that you forgot to study their purposes. The entire first page was asking about what each potion did and who they helped best. And you hadn’t even brushed on that subject during your late night study session.

Long story short, you were screwed.

You closed your eyes, thinking long and hard about each answer, writing down whatever felt right. It was always good to trust your gut instinct right?

In this case, it didn’t feel so right, but you went with it anyways.

What felt like two hours was only really thirty minutes, and the quiz was officially out of your hands. You felt ashamed handing it back — you knew your Professor would think you were a fool, a student who found excuses not to study. And that feeling was nagging you throughout the remainder of class.

“You don’t look so good,” Remus nudged your shoulder once you packed up your books, your entire body slouched and your lips curved downwards into a frown.

“I botched that so bad,” you groaned, tossing your head back and closing your book bag, throwing it over your shoulder, “I was too tired last night and didn’t study everything I wanted to.”

Empathetically, Remus wrapped his arm around your shoulder, guiding you out of the crowded class. You were too busy sulking to pay attention to the fact that Sirius, James and Peter weren’t even with you guys.

“I’ll help you,” Remus said, voice laced with confidence, “I don’t want you doubting your intelligence so I, Remus Lupin, appoint myself as your own personal tutor.”

“Can people self-appoint themselves that?” your face broke into a grin, his humorous antics thankfully distracting you from your disappointment, “You’re too much.”

“But you love me,” he ruffled your hair, removing his arm from around you and slipping his hand into his pocket.

You chuckled, shaking your head as your heart leapt in your chest, “I really do.”

——

“I failed.”

Your voice was weak and quiet as you sat down on the Gryffindor table bench during lunch the week after, your mood rather sour. You had been incredibly worked up that morning, knowing you’d be getting your test results. But now that you’d gotten them, you wanted nothing more than to go back in time where you didn’t have to deal with the reality of the failure.

Remus’ face fell and he placed his hand on your knee, “Ah, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t do so well either. I think this test was marked more strictly than they usually are.”

Though you appreciated the effort, it didn’t lift your spirits.

“I didn’t think I’d do bad enough to actually fail,” you sighed, slouching your shoulders and resting your elbows lazily on the table, “I’m mad at myself.”

“Hey,” Remus lifted his hand off of your knee and poked you in the shoulder, “Stop that. Seriously. Don’t put yourself down so much.”

“Hard not to,” you leaned forwards and rested your head on your hand, eyeing the food with a frown. Your appetite wasn’t present at the moment.

Remus snapped his fingers in front of your face, “I’m serious, Y/N. I’m here to help you, yeah? We’ll get through this. We’ll improve together. The next quiz won’t even stand a chance against us.”

You wanted to keep sulking, but his words brought a smile to your face. Remus had a way of cheering you up — him and his ways. Something about him.. you just couldn’t stay upset around him.

“Thanks,” you grinned, lifting your arm and poking him in the shoulder as he had done to you previously, “I do feel a little better.”

“Good!” he flashed you a toothy grin, his eyes brightening, “That’s always the intention.”

You stared at him for a good moment, the smile not leaving your face. His freckles seemed more visible than usual, his hair lighter and his eyelashes long against his cheeks each time he blinked. Though his hair was thin and brown, his eyelashes were thicker and darker — it was rather cute. His eyes had specks of green in them and, you had never really noticed before, they had some grey in them too.

You had to snap yourself out of the trance he left you in, unaware and unsure as to what caused it.

Had you just checked Remus out? No. Couldn’t be. He was your friend. Friend. Best friend.

You took a deep breath and began filling your plate, appetite suddenly back. You filled your stomach with chicken pot pie and potatoes, hoping that the faster you ate, the better you’d feel.

But nope.

Though your mind was off of your test, you somehow felt even worse. Remus was all you could focus on. His closeness, his kindness, his warmth, his smell.

“Ready for the afternoon?” Remus stuck his hand out to you as he stood up, shaking you from your weirdly romantic thoughts.

“What?” you blinked, “Oh — yeah, sorry.”

You shook your head and stood up, linking your hand with his as the two of you left the hall and took off towards your next class.

——

“No, no,” Remus shook his head, “You need to add this.”

You stared blankly down at the messy piece of parchment, nodding your head slowly, trying to remember which potion you guys had been talking about in the first place.

“Uh — which one again?” you asked sheepishly, your ears burning at the obvious fact that you weren’t paying attention, “Sorry.”

He let out a small laugh, placing his finger on the page in front of you, “This.”

You were glad that the library was quiet at this time of day, the cloudy weekend morning meaning most students would be choosing to start their day relaxing around in their pyjamas and drinking pumpkin juice.

You, however, while others students got to relax and spend the morning doing nothing, you had the great misfortune of being dragged out of the common room by an equally tired Remus.

“The library is empty in the morning,” he had said at your repeated groaning.

And he was right. The library was empty. The only sound you could hear was your quill scratching against your parchment and Remus’ whispered voice trying to teach you while respecting the library noise rules.

“What potion uses porcupine quills and peppermint sprigs?” he asked, resting his head on his hands and staring at you intently, his eyes focused on you and only you.

“Uh—,” you fought the urge to look down at your parchment notes, “Elixor to Induce Euphoria.”

He grinned, raising his hand to high five you, which you gladly accepted, “See! You got this!” You felt your face warm up at the contact and compliment.

“Next question,” he smirked, leaning even closer to you, “What would you say if I asked you to come to Hogsmeade for a drink?”

“I — what?”

As if the wind was knocked out of you, you couldn’t utter a single sound. Had you heard him right? There was no way.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” he chuckled.

But you still couldn’t find the words.

Yes, you had recently looked at Remus differently, but had it been a crush? It didn’t seem like it at first — but as you looked at him now, his face illuminated by the light outside and the way his hair stuck up in odd places, you realized you did like him.

You liked him. Him and his boisterous laugh, his nervous nail-biting habits, his love for poetry and snow. You loved how he’d always be there for you, ready to crack a corny joke when you were feeling down in the dumps. You loved how he’d always have a book recommendation and a long list of reasons why it would be worth the read. You loved how he always had the neatest handwriting, his notes providing you with bits of information you’d miss in class. How he’d always look forward to dessert because of how delicious he found the pumpkin pasties.

And all it took was him asking you out for you to realize you were falling for your best friend.

“I’d actually like that,” you nodded, aware that your cheeks were probably glowing but you were too giddy to care at the moment. Somehow, you felt as if this was right. There was no strangeness about him asking you — it somehow felt as if you had been waiting ages for him to do so.

“Thank Merlin,” he sighed, relaxing his entire body as his face lit up, “Next weekend?”

“Hm, can’t think of anything I’m doing,” you tapped your finger against your chin, eyebrows raised and your cheeks beginning to hurt from the bright smile you were sending his way. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this giddy.

He leaned across the table and linked his hands in yours. You melted into the contact, using your elbow to push your parchment and quill out of the way so you could lean forwards without fear of ruining your notes or your sweater.

Safe to say, studying was now long forgotten.

—

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🐾Late Night Murmurs🐾

A/N: Hey everyone! I finally got around to starting up this Tumblr account! Welcome to my first post here! I will start to post more of my works here more often and I will be taking requests so if you like what you see and would like to see more then please let me know! My rules and regulations are posted on this account if you have any questions! Also, this was supposed to be just a short little one-shot/drabble and then it turned into this... oh well, sorry it’s so long 😂Now, on to the IzuOcha stuff!

~~~

Izuku knew it was late. His eyes stung and he felt as if his brain was constantly short-circuiting but he needed to keep going. Glancing up at the clock on his wall, Izuku groaned, his hands rising to rub at his sore eyes and run through his hair. It was nearly three in the morning, and although Izuku knew he needed the sleep, he just couldn’t. The stress of the upcoming exams gnawing at him like a dog with a bone, preventing him from sleeping and making it difficult to focus. He felt the anxiety wash over him and it took everything in his power to keep from wanting to vomit. Leaning back in his chair, Izuku closed his eyes, tears building up under the lids as he felt his eyes stinging in relief. He didn’t know what to do. He had been studying for hours and yet everything still felt so jumbled and confusing, it was making him lose his mind. Throwing his pencil down onto the desk, Izuku placed his face in his palms, relishing in the small break he was giving himself as the stress continued to wear him down.

A small snore jolted him from his scrambled thoughts, causing him to turn around and glance at the girl sitting behind him. A small smile made its way to his face as he peered at his friend’s prone form, her eyes closed peacefully and her mouth slightly open as she lay sprawled out across his second desk, fast asleep.

Ochako had come sprinting up to Izuku earlier that day, panting heavily with a bright red face and alarmed eyes, her arms filled with a ton of books and papers, asking him desperately to help her out. She had seemed almost feverish at the time, her mind swirling and her hair messy as she explained her predicament. Ochako was very smart when it came to a lot of different subjects but the one she genuinely struggled with above anything else, was math. She had tried and tried to study for the mathematical exams that were going to be a part of the final test but she just couldn’t get it right, her mind obsessing over the smallest things that would change her answer astronomically. She had been on the brink of tears when she had asked Izuku for help, knowing he actually enjoyed math and never struggled with numbers. Izuku had been a bit stunned to see her this way, the normally cheerful yet collected young woman acting as if she had just been chased all over Japan by a villain, but had immediately accepted her plea for help, taking her to his room to help her study.

He watched her sleep now as her gentle snores got a little louder. She looked so peaceful now, so different from the hot mess he had been confronted with that morning, her face relaxed and her breathing normal. She had calmed down when he brought her back to his room, helping her set up at his desk and pouring over her work to see what she was doing wrong, but she had remained tense the entire time, her body ramrod straight and her knuckles had turned white with her grip on her pencil. His council had helped her relax just a little and he knew she was immensely grateful for his assistance, but he could see now just how much stress she had been under as he eyed her fully relaxed form.

He hated seeing her so distraught, she was always so joyful and kind that the sudden change in her mood had set him off balance. He decided that he never wanted to see her like that again as he watched her, the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders soothing his own torrent of stressful thoughts. She had been with him through thick and thin, ever since their first year at U.A. They were adults now, making their way through their third year at the esteemed hero school, but she still stuck with him. She had been his rock ever since they had met, battling beside him, holding him when he felt lost, consoling him, allowing him to shed his status as one of the most quickly promoted young heroes in Japan and just be Izuku Midoriya around her. She let him cry on her shoulder and let down his walls, to just be human. He had always held feelings for her but held them back. He may be climbing through the ranks rather quickly but she was not too far behind. After their first year at U.A., Ochako had worked harder than anyone, fighting tooth and nail to the top so that she too could stand beside the best of the best, unwilling to back down from the daunting task of chasing her dreams. He admired her so much for that, how she had taken something she was doing just to make sure her parents lived a happy life and dialed it up to eleven, choosing to be the best hero she could possibly be rather than choosing to settle as a sidekick. Both jobs would get her the money she needed to support her family, but it was her fiery determination that made Izuku feel so inspired by her.

He understood why she had been so freaked out earlier, she wanted so desperately to pass these exams, make it through one of the final hurdles to achieving her dreams. He knew that she considered this test to be one of the most important moments in her life and it made his heart clench to know that she had panicked over her own skill, her mind filling her heart with doubts about her own capabilities until she broke down, desperate to prove herself wrong, to make it through and make all of her hard work worthwhile. He felt the same in a way, although he felt pressured less because he doubted himself and more because he didn’t want to let everyone who had helped him get this far down. Just like her, his whole career rested on the shoulders of this exam and he couldn’t help but feel the same rising panic in his gut when he thought of it. But just like always, being with Ochako had helped him get a grip on himself, helped him to focus on the problem just like he always did. He hated seeing her with that look of panicked despair in her eyes, but he was happy that he was finally able to return the favor of comforting her when she ran up to him. Pride flashed through his heart as he thought about it. They had been friends for years and yet it still made him beam with glee when she came to him with her problems, that she trusted him enough to spill her insecurities to him and vice versa.

It was something they had started to do half-way through their second year at U.A. when Izuku had come to Ochako randomly one night to cry to her about a battle he had had with a villain during one of his work studies where he couldn’t save the life of a man that had been targeted during the fight. He hadn’t wanted to burden anyone with his problems but had no other place to go, so he had forced down his pride and embarrassment and asked if they could talk. The night had ended with them holding each other, his face pressed into her neck as she cuddled him, just letting him cry and release everything he felt inside of himself. She had just listened and comforted him, only interjecting to calm him down and praise him softly. After that moment, the two had been inseparable (much to the enjoyment of their teasing friends), always looking after one another, and watching each other’s backs both in and out of battle. Izuku’s feelings for the gorgeous young woman had only grown as their bond strengthened, their increasing age making it more and more difficult to ignore his feelings around her, but he held back. He didn’t want to interfere with the dream Ochako had worked so damn hard for, and on top of that, he did not want to ruin their seamless friendship with something as stupid as romantic feelings.

She stirred slightly before settling again, making Izuku snap out of his reverie for the second time that night and debate whether he should wake her or not. On the one hand, he knew she would have the worst back pain in the morning and knew she would be much better off spending the night in her own bed. But on the other hand, a small, selfish part of him liked seeing her in his room, her body relaxed as she slept away her worries. It made him feel light that she was so comfortable being around him. He glanced at the clock again and realized it was probably time to wake her and send her back to her own dorm. She was obviously dead tired and he didn’t want her to be teased in the morning if she was seen leaving his room when everyone else woke. Leaning forward, Izuku reached out to gently shake her awake when she groaned slightly. The sound trailed off into a small, adorable whimper that made his heart clench.

“Mmmm,” Ochako mumbled making Izuku chuckle a little. A few more incomprehensible words then fell from her lips, her nose twitching slightly.

“Trying…,” Ochako said in her sleep. Izuku watched her silently, he didn’t know her to be a sleep talker, but here she was, starting to form words and small phrases as she slept soundly.

“Forward.”

“No, don’t go over there…”

“Wait, come back…”

“Come here, I want to tell you something.”

She was just so beautiful. He smiled as his eyes trailed over her, keeping his gaze modest as he just stared at her in wonder. He knew that what he was doing was a little strange and he had no idea what he would do if she woke up right now and demanded an explanation from him, but she was just so captivating, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. She sighed and moved a little again, her fingers twitching slightly. It seemed like she was waking up, so Izuku backed away from where he had unknowingly leaned close to her face, and prepared to wake her up once more.

“Urm, I-Izuku?”

Izuku froze as his real name fell from her lips in a breathy tone. She never called him that, she had always reverted to using his nickname, Deku, when addressing him. He was almost disgusted with himself at how much his heart fluttered when she said his name.

“H-Hey Uraraka, are you awake? It’s really late, you should probably head back to your room.”

It took a while for her to respond, the silence seemed to almost pound on his ears. Izuku had no idea why he was so eager to hear her talk to him again, but he felt like he was going to explode if she didn’t say something soon. When the silence was finally too much for him, Izuku leaned over and placed a warm hand on her shoulder, his mouth opening to speak when she cut him off.

“Izuku, hmmm,” she moaned softly.

Izuku’s hand shot from her shoulder as if he had been burned, his cheeks burning a bright flaming crimson at her words. His mind struggled to grasp what was happening. He wasn’t naive or stupid when it came to women, he knew what those husky words meant despite never having heard them before, but he was struggling to get a grasp on his emotions. What the hell was he supposed to do!?

“I-Izuku,” her breath hitched slightly as she spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Izuku did a double-take, snapping out of his dazed mindset for a moment. He knew she wasn’t entirely awake and was probably in the middle of some dream but it still made him look at her incredulously at her words.

“What the hell do you have to be sorry for?” Izuku asked in a hushed whisper, leaning closer to her to hear her more clearly.

“I-I’ve failed you,” she muttered softly.

“What are you talking about!? You have not failed me! You will NEVER fail me, what is this?” Izuku said.

Ochako groaned again and shifted a little, her face scrunching up slightly, almost as if she were in pain.

“I’ve been holding you back.”

“What!? You have not been-”

“You’re so amazing, Izuku. I’ve always known that but what I haven’t known is how much you have been restraining yourself,” she mumbled.

“What’re you-?”

“You’ve been holding yourself back, all because of me. I have been keeping you from reaching your full potential. I didn’t see it before, how selfish I have been, keeping you for myself. But I see it now.”

“Uraraka-!”

“I’m so so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing!”

“You have such beautiful wings, Izuku. You don’t need me tying you down, you need to soar. You’re already such a fantastic hero, everyone loves you, and you need to be able to stay in that limelight,” Ochako said as she shifted again, her body curling into a ball slightly.

“Uraraka, you-!”

“I don’t deserve you. But I can’t live without you. All this time, I’ve been fighting and battling for the top spot without even realizing how much I was hindering your chances. You are the best hero and you deserve that spot. The last thing I want is to get in your way.”

Izuku opened his mouth to cut her off again but didn’t even get the first letter out before she spoke again, her voice choking up as a few small tears escaped from beneath her closed eyelids and ran down her cheeks. What he wouldn’t give to kiss those tears away.

“I-I want y-you to be free,” She whispered, more tears sliding down her face. “I want you to have a future and I know now that if you are to fully achieve your dreams, that future can’t have me in it.”

“No!” Izuku all but yelled. She still didn’t wake to his surprise, her nose merely scrunching up more and her eyes closing tighter, her whole body writhing in his desk chair.

“I will say this before we part though,” Ochako whimpered. “T-Thank you so much for being my best friend. My life would n-not have been the same without y-you.”

Tears streamed down his face as Izuku reached out to touch her shoulder again. He needed to wake her up now.

“I love you.”

Izuku’s whole body froze for the second time that night, a jolt of hot electric emotion skittering up his spine and biting at every nerve in his body. It honestly felt similar to when he would activate his quirk but multiplied times ten.

“I love you so damn much,” Ochako whispered, her face turning red even as she slept, her arms coming around to clutch at her knees. “I know it’s wrong of me to love you, and it’s probably even worse to tell you, but I can’t hold it in any longer, especially when I won’t get to see you very often anymore. I love you, and even though you don’t feel the same, I needed to tell you, otherwise I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

Izuku couldn’t move. His whole body was stock still, stuck in time, unable to break free of the vice-like grip her words had on his heart, mind, and body. Ochako chuckled a little, still lost in sleep.

“What do I love about you? Everything. Absolutely everything, Izuku. I love your personality, I love your looks, I love your courage and your determination and your strength. I love your weaknesses and your insecurities because to me, they are nothing more than more amazing parts of you in disguise. I love how smart you are, how loved you make me feel, how kind and loyal you are. You are very handsome, and, as a little secret between us, I almost cried when I saw you interacting with the children who have been affected by tragedy after our battles. You are so gentle and inspiring and loving, just like you are with me. I imagine that one day, you will make an excellent father.”

Izuku blushed somehow even deeper at her words, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

“I just love you and everything about you,” Ochako said, her voice low and husky. She twitched and shifted in her seat again, her mind barely on the edge between her dream world and reality.

Izuku snapped then, his patience completely lost. Gripping her shoulders, he gently shook her awake, his fingers tightening slightly when he saw her gorgeous chocolate eyes flutter open to look up at him. His breathing was heavy and he knew the blush on his face was practically making him glow but he didn’t care at that moment. His hair had fallen to slightly cover his eyes but he ignored the strands in his face as Ochako finally made her way into full consciousness.

“Deku!!!” Ochako shouted in surprise, jumping away from him, her rolling chair sliding across the floor of his room until her back bumped against the wall. Her eyes were wide with shock and she held a hand up to her heart as she tried to calm her breathing. “Sorry Deku, you just scared me, what time is it?”

Izuku didn’t respond but instead shot up from his chair and marched over to her.

“Deku-!?” Ochako squealed when he grabbed her shoulders, hoisted her out of the chair, and pulled her into a tight hug. She hesitantly wrapped her arms around him, her eyes widening as she felt his whole body begin to tremble.

“Deku, what happened?” Ochako asked breathlessly, trying her hardest to shove down the feelings that reared up in her throat and chest when he embraced her.

“Ochako, I need to know, did you mean it?” Izuku asked, ignoring her other question as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his body starting to shake even more as he awaited her answer.

The shock of him using her real name for the first time was bypassed by her shock at his question. She knew what he was asking, but how did he know? She only confessed her love for him in her dream! Unless…

“Fuck,” Ochako muttered to herself, causing Izuku to pull away from her to get a good look at her face.

“Ochako?”

“I was sleep talking wasn’t I?” Ochako asked, her large eyes meeting his gaze, several indistinguishable emotions swimming behind them.

Izuku nodded slowly and leaned back into her embrace, his eyes closed. Ochako sighed in response before nuzzling his hair, her arms clamping down on his back to bring him even closer to her, tightening their embrace. Izuku’s breath hitched at the feeling.

“Does that mean you-?”

Ochako nodded against his shoulder without hesitation, her eyes closed as she waited for the sound of his rejection. Damn her inability to keep her mouth shut. “I’m so sorry Deku, I didn’t mean to say anything, I don’t want to make things awkward between us and I just screwed everything up!” A few tears slid down her still damp cheeks. “I’m sorry, god, I know I should be dealing with this like the adult that I am but I just can’t…”

Izuku leaned back and looked into her face once more, his trembling subsiding a bit as he took in her beautiful features. She was so stunning, even with the tear tracks lining her skin, her eyes shining with emotion as she forced herself to meet his gaze.

“You didn’t screw up anything,” Izuku said, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. His heart flipped in his chest when she leaned into his touch, her eyes closing. “I feel the same way about you.”

Ochako’s eyes flew open and she stepped away from him, shaking her head back and forth. Izuku frowned, concern and confusion washing through him in waves. Why was she rejecting him? He just confessed to her after hearing her true feelings for him, why wasn’t she embracing him again? Letting him kiss away her tears? Letting him hold her and whisper in her ear all of the loving things he has wanted to say since they met?

“Ochako-?”

“Don’t pity me, Deku. You have your own life to live, don’t change your feelings just because I’m your friend. You know as well as I do that being invested in a relationship that you aren’t fully interested in is unhealthy, even for a normal person. And you are trying to become the new number 1 hero! I will only be in your way,” Ochako sniffled and tried her hardest to hold back the rest of her tears, saving them for when she was alone in her own room. Standing up tall and holding her head up high, she managed to make eye contact with him, his wide green eyes making her smile sadly. “You are so kind Deku, but for once, you don’t have to save me. Please, be free.”

She looked down at her feet though, suddenly unable to hold his gaze any longer. The silence hung heavily between them as Izuku scrambled to think of something, anything to say back to her. He had so many thoughts jumbled up in his mind, his mouth couldn’t possibly form the correct words.

A heavy sigh from the amazing young woman in front of him dragged him away from his inner turmoil and his eyes widened as he watched her steel herself and turn away from him, her hand reaching for the doorknob.

“Goodbye Deku, thank you for being my friend, I’m sorry I had to ruin it for us,” Ochako said in a hushed whisper, her fingers wrapping around the handle in front of her.

Deku wasted no time in making his way to her. He had no idea what he was going to say or how he was going to say it but he had to do something before the best thing that had ever happened to his life walked out on him, her own self-doubts and insecurities clouding her judgment. Striding over to her, Izuku reached out and wrapped both of his arms around her torso, his hands clasping together on her stomach, his face burying in the back of her neck. A small smile made its way to his face when he heard her sharp intake of breath at the contact, her body freezing under his touch.

“Deku, please, let me go,” Ochako begged, her throat starting to choke up. Why did he have to make this so hard on her?

“No, please hear me out, I just have so many things I want to say. I can’t sort through them all fast enough. Just please wait, please, I need-” Izuku cut himself off as his own throat started to constrict. He swallowed hard, holding her tighter against him. Ochako didn’t move away but she didn’t hug him back either, her back remaining ramrod straight against his hold. Izuku gulped and took a deep breath. He needed to say something, now. Slowly releasing her, Izuku gripped her shoulders and spun her around to face him.

“Why do you think I’m not serious?”

Ochako frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what made you think I am not completely in love with you?”

Ochako gaped. He couldn’t be serious, he just couldn’t be! How could he love her? She wasn’t in some romantic movie or novel, in real life things like this just didn’t happen. Maybe she was still dreaming?

“I-I-I don’t know, I just feel like it’s impossible for you to love me back, not when I’ve loved you for so long, not when you’ve never been interested in a relationship before. There’s nothing special about me, there’s no reason for you to like me back.”

Izuku’s eyes flashed with disbelief and rage, an emotion she had never seen directed at her before. She shrank back slightly, scared she had upset him. He noticed her shift and calmed the harshness of his gaze a bit, but remained firm.

“What are you talking about?” Izuku asked incredulously. “You think I feel shackled to you? You think you are keeping me from being successful? You think I want nothing to do with you now that I’ve found out you are interested in me in a romantic way?”

Ochako swallowed before nodding slowly.

“God no, Ochako! I know you confessed by accident but you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words from you. Ever since I met you I thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, but then I got to know you and I found out you were so much more. You were always so kind to me, so loving, so gentle, so amazing and talented. You inspired me to work harder for my dreams. I’ve never deserved you, Ochako, but I am so damn happy to have you in my life. You don’t shackle me to the ground, you are the one who built my wings! Without you, I’ll never be able to fly. Please, don’t go,” Izuku’s voice started to shake as he spoke. “Come on, you’re the smart one, open your eyes and see that I am telling nothing but the truth. I love you, more than anything.”

Ochako felt more tears stream down her face but for entirely different reasons than before. Her heart called out his name at his loving words, her mind racing, and her breathing hitching. She felt as if this was all some dream, but she knew it was real. She looked into his eyes and saw nothing but the honest truth swirling in them, his green hues shining brighter than ever before.

Izuku knew she believed him, but he also saw the hesitancy in her eyes, the doubt that she still wasn’t good enough and that this was all some elaborate illusion. Gathering the small strands of courage he had left, a shaky breath left his lips as he cupped her cheek again.

“Still think I’m not serious?”

Without waiting for a response, Izuku dove in to seal her lips with his own. Ochako gasped in surprise at the feeling of his warm and surprisingly soft lips on hers and instinctually pressed her hands into his wide shoulders for support. The kiss was gentle but persistent, encouraging her to give something back, to either push him away or pull him closer. It was only after a few more seconds of hesitation before she decided on the latter, linking her arms around his neck and pulling him close to her, their bodies pressing flush against each other.

Izuku groaned at the feeling of her against him. He had wanted this for so long, she was immediately intoxicating. Reaching down, Izuku gripped her thighs and scooped her up. He smiled when she squealed at the sudden movement, the joyful sound making his heart throb. Izuku carried her over to his bed and sat down, settling her down on his lap. They broke the kiss for air, the two young adults panting as they leaned their foreheads against one another.

“Ok, I believe you now,” Ochako said with a breathy chuckle.

Izuku beamed at her and brushed her hair back behind her ear, his heart leaping for joy. He had always found her hair to be absolutely stunning, but it had always bothered him when she would push it back, his fingers itching to do it instead.

“Good, I never want you to doubt me or yourself ever again, understand? I need you in my life, Ochako, more than anything. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. You will never hold me back, because with you I am the best version of myself. Got it? I never ever want you to think your not good enough,” Izuku murmured.

Ochako felt like her heart was going to explode. He was being so kind and gentle, so loving. She still couldn’t believe this was happening. He loved her back, he really loved her. Izuku watched as the determined sparkle in her eyes returned, making him love her even more.

“Okay, I promise. Just so long as you make the same promise,” Ochako said softly.

“I will,” Izuku said, his eyes darting down to her lips and then back up to her eyes.

Smiling at his request for permission, Ochako nodded once and leaned in, meeting him for another kiss in the middle. She sighed as his lips acquainted themselves with her own, his eyes closing and his fingers moving to run through her hair. Ochako uncrossed her legs and wrapped them around his waist bringing them even closer together. She tensed, hoping she wasn’t pushing any boundaries, her cheeks on fire. Everything about this was new to her, but it felt right so she went with it.

To her relief, Izuku took it in stride, pulling her closer to him with a soft groan. The noise he made set her nerves on fire, her blood roaring in her veins. They eventually broke apart again, Izuku staring at her with a slightly glazed expression. Ochako giggled and reluctantly slid off his lap. Izuku’s gaze instantly cleared and he looked at her with a mix of confusion and longing, an expression that made Ochako want to laugh and leap right back into his lap but she held off.

“As much as I’m having fun, it is 4 AM and we have class tomorrow. Maybe we can continue this tomorrow though? Maybe go to a movie first?” Ochako asked, her eyes twinkling.

Izuku snapped his gaze to the clock on the wall and realized she was right. He had totally forgotten how late it was, his exhaustion chased away by his ability to finally hold the woman he had wanted for so long. He smiled and chuckled slightly, running a hand through his hair. His face was flushed but he managed to meet her gaze.

“I’d love that. Goodnight ‘Chako, I love you,” Izuku said.

Ochako seemed to almost glow at his words, her eyes twinkling and her teeth flashing as she smiled the widest she had ever grinned.

“I love you too ‘Zuku.”

Izuku melted into a pile of goo at the use of his first name in real life, something about the way she said it with such love and confidence making it much more significant than when she had called to him in her sleep.

“Thanks for helping me study,” Ochako said slyly with a wink as she made her way out the door, closing it behind her without waiting for a response. Izuku laughed quietly to himself and laid down on his pillow, waiting for sleep to overtake him. When he did finally fall asleep, he dreamed of the two of them, a small smile creeping onto his face as he slept peacefully, the beast in his heart finally satisfied after all these years. Finally, they were together, a closer team than they had ever been before, and Izuku wouldn’t have it any other way.

[drlissahawthorne]

marked me like a bloodstain

Who: Clarissa Hawthorne & Charlie Hawthorne-Mills ft. Andrea Hawthorne-Mills

When:  Saturday, December 5, 2020

Where: Hawthorne-Mills home

What: Clarissa calls on the aid of her sibling-in-law to help her make sense of her jumbled thoughts from the night before.

Warnings: talk of past abuse

Word Count: 1650

Notes:  Part 3 of 3. Part 1. Part 2.

The first thing Clarissa did when she got to Andrea and Charlie’s place was take a nap. She’d spoken briefly with them about what had happened, figuring it was best not to worry them more than she was already liable to. Then, after she’d slept for nearly five hours, she’d set herself up in the basement recording studio, deciding she wanted to work through as much of what she’d tried to create the night before as she possibly could.

After about an hour of trying and failing to make sense of even a little of it, she called on Charlie. Charlie was a music producer and the kind of person who could understand the gibberish she’d come up with in her haste to dump out every part of her brain into words. Which is how the pair of them ended up sitting at the piano, staring at a cluttered mess of mismatched phrases across the multiple notes on Clarissa’s laptop.

“So, what exactly were you doing last night that this happened?” They asked with a soft laugh.

“Uh, I think they call it coping with trauma?” Clarissa groaned. “He was my last boyfriend, the guy that made me choose between him and my work.”

“Oh, and you ran into him last night?”

“Yeah,” She sighed. “It was a nice night and then I got home and it was like everything I’d tried to ignore and bury and move on from, came out. Like, I just couldn’t focus on anything else, and even then, I wasn’t entirely focused.”

“You’ve certainly come up with a lot in a short amount of time, it seems. Can’t say all of it will be worth something right now, but we can definitely feel it out, see what we come up with, y’know? I’m honored that you’re even letting me near this. I know you’re not looking to make music, but…” Charlie drug out the word and Clarissa bumped them with her shoulder.

“Don’t even go there. This is just me working through shit. If it turns into something worthwhile, then it does, but we’re not going there.” 

Charlie held up their hands. “I know, I know.”

For a while they just worked on picking apart different notes and rearranging them, creating new documents with better structure so that things really did resemble poems or songs, versus the madness that had spilled from Clarissa’s thoughts. Eventually, however, they managed to get it down to one document that they really wanted to dive into. It was still messy, but it had the first line that had really come to Clarissa in it.

“‘You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding.’ Good line, raw as hell too. So, tell me about this guy. Tell me how this came to be, what caused this?” Charlie urged with a soft smile. Clarissa’s face scrunched up, looking at the other words in the document, glasses perched on the end of her nose.

“So, we met in Pittsburgh, he’s a few years older than me, I wasn’t looking for anyone, y’know? I’d been kind of cast aside by every other lover I'd had. People not wanting to deal with the fact I was losing my eyesight. And he came along and he was sweet and caring and he made me feel wanted. Like I was someone’s favourite. Like I was his favourite. And We did all this stuff together and it was amazing. But, I was already hurt and I didn’t want to see that with every positive thing that came of our relationship, there was a knife marking me in such a worse way.” Clarissa shrugged a little. “He was horrible to me, but every time I doubted, every time I felt those insecurities pop up and I felt unwanted or unworthy, he made me feel amazing and wanted again. So I kept falling for it, for him. After every fight. Every unresolved argument. No one else really saw it, except for Jill and I refused to believe her. He was a typical abuser, if there is such a thing.”

Charlie just nodded as Clarissa spoke, copying and pasting and adding pieces to the document they were working on. They obviously had ideas and Clarissa found it absolutely enthralling to see them work. To see them in their element like this. Sure, they’d helped her work on the arrangement she used for the Riptide cover, but this was different. This was what they were really good at. Taking the bare bones of a song and fleshing it out. Making it grow and expand and become something real and tangible.

When they were done typing, they showed the screen to Clarissa. “This is what we’ve got, it’s a starting point. Let’s give it a melody and see where it takes us, yeah?” 

Clarissa looked it over, whispering the lyrics to herself, trying to get a flow for them. It was definitely something that needed to be slow, easy going. Melancholy in a melody. The idea of reminiscing, even longing, for something now gone and past. The pain of loss still lingering despite the years that had passed.

Before she could even really think about what she was doing, she was finding her bearings on the piano and then started playing one of the melodies she’d thought of the night before. It wasn’t the one that had been strongest, but it was the one that felt right. Like it was meant to along with whatever this song was. Something rather simple but complex in its emotions.

“To kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed, you drew stars, around my scars, but now I’m bleeding cos I knew you, stepping on the last train marked like bloodstain,” Clarissa started to sing. It wasn’t a beginning. It didn’t feel like one, but it was definitely something. Something that she could work with.

“Let me see that,” she motioned for the laptop and Charlie handed it over, watching her type away. “So, when we met, it was this big event and I’d gotten sort of dressed up, nice shirt, heels, lipstick, and I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Pittsburgh, but there is an unnatural amount of cobblestone. And y’know, there’s this weird visual I have of that day, the sound of high heels on cobblestone, vintage tee, I’d literally sent someone the message ‘new phone, who’s this?’ I’m pretty sure. Like it was just this really vivid day in my memory, and not just because I’d met him, but that definitely plays a part.” Clarissa explained before hanging the laptop back, her additions at the top of the page.

“That’s really cool as a visual, actually, can you start playing again?” They asked as they looked over what she’d written. She obliged and as they moved along to the melody they started rearranging what she’d written, once again turning her stream of consciousness into something resembling song lyrics. They then started to add more. “I like this visual of clothing and memories. Is there anything about him you can tell me that could work with that?”

Clarissa thought for a while, scrunching up her face a bit, fingers still idly playing the notes of what was definitely turning into a song. “Drunk, late at night, dancing. Probably fall, so he was wearing jeans, and being silly, he’d joke about kisses being the fastest way to heal a broken heart, some days I think he was right about that.” She laughed a bit, watching as Charlie continued typing.

By the time Andrea called the pair of them up from the basement for dinner, they were bubbling with excitement. They had something that actually resembled a song on their hands. It wasn’t anywhere near finished, but it was far more than they’d had when they started and it made Clarissa feel a lot better, both about herself and everything that had happened since the day before.

“Well, you two have certainly been hard at work, haven’t you?” Andrea teased as they set the boxes of takeaway down on the kitchen table. “I figured I’d be nice and order takeaway, so we could do something together while we ate and before I lost you both to the basement again.” 

“Sorry, I know I came over to hang out and have barely seen you.” Clarissa apologised and Andrea just shook their head.

“Please, I haven’t seen you this excited about something since… Lissa, it’s been years. You weren’t even this excited when you got the job in Brooklyn. I’m just happy this is turning into something good for you. There will be plenty of time to hang out and do things when this is done. I mean, you’ll be back in here in two weeks anyway, and then you’ll be here for a week and we can catch up and do stuff then.”

“But, we really should be nice and play a game with them while we eat, what do you say?” Charlie smiled and Clarissa nodded.

“I think we can do that, might be a good thing to give our brains a break, right?”

“I certainly think so, but you’re the one with the doctorate.” They all laughed as they dished food onto plates and got settled to play a game.

Two hours later, all three would find themselves in the recording studio as Clarissa performed, for the first time in full, a song Andrea had helped dub ‘cardigan’ and for good reason. It was a start to something, what that something was, Clarissa didn’t know, but what she did know, was that Jill, and anyone else privileged enough to hear it, would definitely like it. Maybe not as much as she did, but they would. It sounded a lot like healing to Clarissa, and that was something anyone who knew her would be able to get behind, or so she hoped.

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Twenty Two, “Don’t Let Me Go”

Hi!!!! Wow, long time no see. Somehow the writing bug bit me again and I finished up this chapter. I hope to post some another one for you guys soon, but (as you know) unfortunately I don’t know. Life has just been so busy the last few years and writing hasn’t been interesting to me or it’s just dropped as a priority. There are no words for how sorry I am to leave you guys hanging with this story.... I hope I can keep posting chapters for you guys, even if it’s off and on. I hope that some of you are still around and will see this chapter, and that you’ll like it. I’d love to hear what you think :) 

“Y-you did all of this?” I ask, pointing at the food, the streamers hanging from the ceiling, my favorite music falling from the speakers, my favorite foods donning the tables in the corner, and so on and so forth.

“Who d’ya think did it?” he laughs, giving me a fake glare. I barely have time to laugh with him when people start clinking their solo cups with plastic spoons and shouting “speech, speech, speech” over and over with their eyes on Harry.

I find myself chanting along with them as his cheeks fill with the color of roses. “Alright, alright, calm down ya crazy lot,” he shouts, dimples drilling into his cheeks as he uses his arms to tell them to quiet down. “I didn’ really prepare a speech, but fine, I guess you lot will get one. Fuck, where do I even start?” he titters, and so does everybody else at his choice of words.

Harry thumbs at his bottom lip as he stares off into the distance before his eyes float over to me and glue themselves there. “Becky, or as I like to fondly call her, Becks, I dunno where to even begin with you, love . . Never have I had a personal assistant like you. There’s never been one like you, Becks. Yer one of a kind and nobody could ever replace you.”

Briiiiiiing!

“Styles and Lawson, this is Rebecca,” I chime, finding it hard to hold in a sigh as I play the fake cheerful card. And boy do I try to believe it, too.

"Hi yes, I’m calling about . . . ,” the shrill voice belonging to an old granny spills into my ears. I grudgingly reply and transfer them to the right department that they should have called in the first place. Sigh.

My fingers return to the keyboard of my laptop and glide across the keys. I pick up where I left off from the middle of the sentence. The sentence I was interrupted in the middle of.

“I need copies o’ these,” a voice rasps, before I hear a definite clud. I look up to find a pair of tired green eyes belonging to Harry. They disappear in a flash when he turns his back, walking away without another word. With a huff, I reach over to grab the small stack of law books and documents, post-its spanning the color of the rainbow sticking out to mark pages.

+

Beep.

I tap my finger along the screen, first entering Harry’s code. Welcome, Harry, it reads. I press OK and ignore the many options, and instead select Copy. After selecting what I need, I tap the green button and wait for the whirring of the printer.

Ten minutes and many copies later, I plant the last post it on a stack of copies of Chapter 10 from Law’s Empire. After rearranging the stacks in alternating directions in one big stack, I settle the hefty pile in my arms before turning around.

I nearly lose it when I turn around. Harry stands mere inches in front of me, floating into the room unannounced like a ghost. And in my fright, my arms do a weird thing out of my control. In staggering slow motion, dozens upon dozens of papers jump into the air.

Suddenly, my vision speeds up to the present. I groan loudly at the mess of papers lying on our feet all over the floor.

“‘m sorry, didn’ mean t’ scare ya, love,” Harry comments softly. He falls to his knees as he gathers a handful of paper. “Here, lemme help you.”

“I’m fine, I got it,” I reply, grabbing a piece of paper with an orange post-it. “Did you need something?”

“What?”

“Well, you were standing two inches away from my face when I turned around. It kind of implies that you need something,” I say, starting to recognize some similar papers. I begin to make stacks of the familiar pages.

Law’s Empire. A History of British Law. Pages from a file on somebody named  Harrows.

The reason is fleeting me, but I look up briefly to find his head bent down as he gathers papers together in a uniform stack. The pause rouses him and he looks up too. I tear my eyes away after only a few seconds of eye contact. A chilling silence fills the space between us, often interrupted by the sound of shuffling paper and the almost quiet ticking of the clock.

Maybe minutes later, my five stacks are growing higher along with his. I start to see the tile floor that I had forgotten was there.

“I wanted t’ talk t’ you.”

“Of course,” I almost retort in a mutter, setting aside a copy of page 489 from The Infamous Case.

A syllable falls from his lips, but it stops there and I try to ignore it.

The stack for Dallow vs. Emprise Inc. has nearly doubled in size by the time he speaks again.

“Why can’ we talk ‘bout what happened?”

“Because, Harry, there’s nothing for us to talk about,” I answer, picking up copies from the Harrows stack and clinking them against my thighs to straighten them out.

“Becks,” he almost pleads by the sound of it, and it catches my attention. I’m coming to hate that name, with how much it’s been battered and abused.

“It’s over, Harry, just drop it. Please.”

“No, I don’ wanna drop it, Becks. ‘s not over.”

After sorting through a good two dozen papers I pick up another, leaving only a handful or so left. Thank God, then maybe I can get out of here.

“Yes, it is, Harry. Stop it.”

“Why?” he retorts through gritted teeth.

He pushes his stacks into the middle.

“Because it was over the second you didn’t try to give me the benefit of the doubt,” I say curtly, staring down at his messy stacks that I combine with mine. Throwing caution out the window, I put them all into one stack that I hug to my chest as I get to my feet.

Finally, I meet his eyes as our shoes squeak against the tiles. He stands between me and my way out. A synonym to sadness tugs at his eyes. His red rose lips pout out of the corner of my eye.

The door clicks behind me with a definite thud as I make my escape.

I have to push away my disappointment when I don’t hear the clud of his footsteps coming after me.

+

It pains me to wrap my fingers around that handle. I feel a pang seeing his desk and all of his familiar furniture and books. It hurts, even more, to look at his leather couch and see where we sat at each end on late nights. Boxes of takeaway and empty beer bottles would sit on the carpet nearby. Our laughs floating around the room and filling the empty cracks in the walls. And the empty parts of my heart. Maybe even his.

My feet hardly budge from his doorway. I drag them across the room and over to his desk. My eyes land on the scattered mess atop it. Papers. Empty mugs. Forgotten pens. Hastily written notes. I juggle the stack of papers back and forth, trying to find an empty space for them where they won’t get lost. My eyes catch the dark wooden frame beside his phone. His dimpled cheeks and sparkling eyes smile at me from a picture. Next to the excited smile and fake blonde head of hair called his girlfriend. Amber.

“I coulda taken those,” a voice speaks from behind me. I jump at the sound of his voice. Once again, it’s as if he floated into the room without a squeak.

Gulp.

I pick a spot and drop the papers there. Turning around, her perfect smile and perfect face stare at me out of the corner of my vision. Touching my hair nervously, I find him standing in his doorway looking lost. Nervous. A question sits on his face. The way he looks at me is as if he wishes for me to answer it. I look down quickly as thoughts storm through my brain. I strive for the calm after the storm, and I know the only way that’ll happen.  

I lift my head, and it finally feels clear for a moment. I meet his eyes and nervously lock gazes.

“Consider this my two week’s notice. I’ll help you find a replacement for me. I’ll train them in and I’ll finish up what I’m doing, but then I’m gone,” I announce suddenly. I wish for my voice to sound balanced and confident, but I’m almost sure it’s the polar opposite.

His eyebrows raise as if controlled by a puppeteer, and his jaw drops nearly in sync. No words fall from his mouth, but I see question after question blossoming behind his big eyes.

The storm behind mine rages and howls as I walk past him. Now it’s my turn to float away like a ghost. If only I could turn invisible, too. And maybe haunt a person or two, like a certain somebody’s girlfriend.

+

The rest of the week drags on slowly. Rain plagues the city and puddles litter the sidewalks everywhere I go. I count the days until I can leave and call this time in my life a stupid mistake of the past. But the days can’t go fast enough, and with the incessant rain, they only seem to go by slower. The jumbled mess in my head only grows worse, too. The dread. The slight excitement. The relief. The confliction. The sadness. The feeling of being lost. The wondering of what the hell I’ll do next.

Another storm rumbles overhead amidst the beeps and whirring of the elevator. Finally, the red number reaches 17 and the silver doors part. I’m bombarded by the sounds of the seventeenth floor. Chatter. Typing. Phones ringing. It’s not long before it blends into the background, just like any other day.

One week down, one left to go. My Monday is slow and I’m quickly reminded of my restless sleep from the night before.

Caffeine is my saving grace throughout the day that seems like it’ll never end. First, the copier won’t work. Then I get an earful from some stranger on the phone. Next, I realized I forgot my lunch at home. To top it all off, Harry is in a disastrous mood. This last one is by far the worst as if the others weren’t bad enough.

“Wha’s this I hear ‘bout you hangin’ up on people?” a voice rasps from behind me. The four numbers unique to me show on the screen of the kiosk before I hit enter.

“I’m on my lunch break, I’m not working right now,” I reply, walking away and towards the fridge with the hopes I’ll find something forgiving there.

“I don’ care if yer on yer lunch break, or if yer off for tha day. I wann’ talk t’ you,” Harry retorts. I resist rolling my eyes at his remark as my eyes search the shelves of the fridge. The barren shelves.

“Then what do you want?” I huff, turning to face him as the refrigerator door closes with a soft thud.

“First, yer hangin’ up on people, then sumbody called t’ tell me that ya messed up their appointment with me, and lastly I still haven’ gotten tha copies I asked for at nine this morning?” he continues, holding out his ringed fingers and using them to count. He holds up three of his fingers and waves them in the air. As if I don’t know how to count, too. “What, are ya tryin’ to make yer last two weeks hell for tha both of us?”

“No.”

“Well, it sure fookin’ seems like it. What, have ya just given up halfway in? Ya still got anotha week left ya know, a week that still requires you t’ do yer job. And train yer replacement in, but ya seemed t’ forget that part haven’t ya, considerin’ ya’ve still failed t’ find one?” Harry goes on, poking at the ticking time bomb inside of my chest. The anger pumping through my veins goes a little quicker with every word that falls from his lips.

“Fuck off,” I tell him, pronouncing every syllable clearly and slowly.

His green eyes expand in a second flat and instantly regret fills me with a sick feeling. But then the anger returns and my heart starts racing.

“Excuse me? What makes ya think ya can talk t’ me like that? ‘m still yer boss, don’ bloody forget that,” Harry says, his voice rising as he wags a finger at me. Annoyance and anger knits his eyebrows together.

Fear surges into my veins and suddenly I’m tired. My stomach growls, yelling at me to feed it so it won’t be empty anymore. But I couldn’t find five minutes this morning to order something, and I’ve had enough of the rain that the last thing I want to do is step back into it before I absolutely have to.

“Please, just stop. I’m sorry, okay?” I sigh, my voice threatening to break on the last syllable. Suddenly, his features soften and the real Harry peaks out at me from the cracks.

“Becks, I’m sorry, too. I know ‘s not an excuse, but ‘ve been having a hard time lately. ‘s been so hard t’ try and find a replacement tha’s even half as good as you. I jus’ wish we could talk ‘bout this more, and that you could stay. Please, Becks, ‘ll do anything,” Harry says quietly. His voice leaks of pleading and honesty - two things I haven’t seen in a long time.

My shoulders threaten to fall with a loose shrug, but I stop them before they can. I gulp past the knot in my throat and force myself not to give in. A flicker of movement behind him catches my eye, and I look over briefly to see what it was. The door opens and in walks Asher with two brown paper bags clutched in his hands and a question painting his face.

“No, Harry. My mind is made up, I’m leaving. I spoke with somebody who sounds like they’d be a good fit - she’s coming in tomorrow,” I say softly, defeat tugging at the corners of my voice but the edge sticks. And so does my decision.

I walk away after the last word hits the air before he can say anything else. The smell of greasy fish and chips tempts my taste buds as I near Asher.

He flashes me a small smile before whispering, “are you okay?” as he turns to follow me out the door. I nod ‘yes’ and take the bag he holds out towards me.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

A microwavable cup of oatmeal. Picking titles off Harry’s bookshelves and making copies at his request, over and over. Then putting them back where they were, in alphabetical order by title. Picking up his newest dry cleaning. Taking care of his shopping lists. The next mornings consisted of this. Oh, and ordering take away because guess who was too busy again to make herself lunch?

“Hello, is anybody home in there?” somebody says. I jump a few inches off of my seat and jerk my head up to see who’s talking to me. Harry. With his large hands resting on the edge of my desk. Wrinkling papers and pushing things around. “You okay, love? You look a little down, and tired, and-.”

“Okay, I get it. I don’t look the best. Noted,” I reply, looking away from him and to my computer.

“I-I didn’ mean it that way . . Really, are you sure yer okay, Becks? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything is fine, thanks.”

“Okay, if you insist,” he replies. He finally lifts his hands from my desk and makes it look like he’s going to leave. But he doesn’t. He continues to stand there and look at me, awkwardly.

“Um, can I help you with something?” I ask him, holding my hand out before I rest my chin in my palm.

It takes him a short moment to collect his thoughts. But then after looking around mindlessly his eyes return to me. “Ya know if ya need a letter of recommendation or something, I’d be glad t’ write one for ya. Unless ya’ve already found a job and ‘m saying this kind late . . I mean if yer looking for another personal assistant job which whoever that’s for they’re tha luckiest in tha world,” Harry goes on. He talks like he’s never going to stop, but I wouldn’t put it past him. “Have ya already found a new job?”

“No, I uh haven’t. But I’m working on it,” I reply. I awkwardly meet his eyes that gently look back into mine. An unwelcome thought creeps in through a crack in my reserve, and there I am feeling the weight of its words.

If only things could always be easy like this and he could be easy like this then I wouldn’t be looking for another job. But they’re not.

“Good. ‘m sure you’ll find something great, whatever it is ya choose. Anybody will be lucky t’ have you,” he rambles on quietly. The tension in the air grows and I suddenly wish this conversation was over minutes ago. “Ya wouldn’ ever go and work for Tomlinson or the bloody Scotts-.”

“No no, of course not. I’d never do that to you,” I reply quickly. A quick smile flashes across his face and a blush pinches his cheeks.

“Yeah yeah, I know. I didn’ want it t’ seem like I thought you would, but-.”

“I know, Harry. It’s ok,” I tell him softly. Now it’s my turn to smile, or the best I can try.

“Y-you’ll be ok?” Harry says slowly, thumbing at his bottom lip. The question catches me off guard, and I look away from the feeling in his eyes. I can’t handle it. This is already hard enough, and the two weeks isn’t even up.

I clear my throat and pull my head back up to look at him. I nod at his question and his head moves a little too. He bites at his bottom lip and turns his eyes away.

“You have an appointment later with Judge O’Connell at 3, and then the new prospect, Amelia Jones, should be here in fifteen to interview,” I say quickly so as to avoid any more sappy talk. But I quickly regret it, because knowing Harry it’ll be another few days until another moment like this.

And I only have six left, counting today. Six days to figure everything out, and to let him go. As if I could do that.

+

“So. . ,” he rasps as the hum of the heating fills my ears after the previously incessant chatter.

“What?” I ask softly, tearing my gaze from the wall to Harry’s inquisitive eyes that search for mine.

“What did ya think of her?” he continues, speaking with his expressive eyebrows that climb up his forehead. The pen in his hand ventures out towards me in question before it returns to its stay between his teeth.

“She was good, probably the best one yet,” I admit hesitantly, looking down at my clipboard holding an interview sheet similar to the one in his lap. She checked nearly all of the boxes, and the one’s she missed were miniscule. Insignificant. She’s damn near perfect. I hate it.

“She was better than good, she was bloody great,” he nearly sings with a giddy smile, and I find it tugging at my heart. I shouldn’t feel resentment and jealousy when I’m the one choosing to leave, but this whole situation is wrong and nontraditional so what’s one more thing then? “I think ‘ll hire her. What d’ya think?”

“Go ahead, you’re the boss,” I reply, standing from my chair and stretching my arms above my head. Images of her flame-like curls pop into my head along with her piercing jade eyes and beautiful laugh that put a spark in Harry’s eyes.

“Becks,” Harry begins as I shake my head with the hopes the motion will break up the unpleasant thoughts enough to make them turn into dust and blow away. And maybe to get him to stop calling me that, too. If only it were that easy. “I want yer opinion. If ya don’ think she’s good enuff, tell me.”

“She’s great, Harry, she’s more than good enough. She said so herself that she’s willing to learn and has some similar job experience. I’ll give her a call and tell her she can start training tomorrow,” I respond, turning my head to meet his eyes briefly before I head for the door and out of this painful moment.

“Ya know, you can still change yer mind . . ,” he blurts, his words rooting me to the spot but persuading me to do the opposite.

“Harry, please don’t. What’s done is done.”

“We can still talk ‘bout this,” he starts, but I don’t let him finish.

“No, we can’t,” I retort, whipping around to meet his eyes begging for mine. “And you know exactly why, Harry. It was your choice, not mine.”

If he said something, I didn’t hear it. I’m passing the threshold and out the door before he has the chance to speak and before I have the chance to. There’s so much I want to say, but I don’t know if I’ll ever know how to.

+

Beep.

The elevator climbs another floor and when I look up I’ve arrived at floor 17, for the last time. My first time being just a few short months ago, although it’s felt far longer. Nothing has really changed besides the newness of the place fading away, and the redhead standing at my desk that’s almost her’s.

I walk to the break room to clock in for the last time. I hear voices spilling out of the cracked door before I even enter.

“I think she’s the longest one he’s kept around,” a man’s voice remarks.

“I’m glad he got rid of her, or whatever happened, ‘cuz this new one’s much better looking. I wouldn’t blame him if he slept with this assistant for real this time, heck maybe I will even,” his friend snickers beside him, their backs to me as they drop sugar cubes into their cups of tea with laughs.

“What, ya mean he didn’t sleep with this one already?” the first bloke asks with a soft laugh. The stirring of their spoons fills the short silences between their gossiping.

“No, he didn’t,” I announce loudly, and I watch one of their teas fall over and begin to coat the counter they stand at. They both face me with a “deer in the headlights” look before moving their feet as fast as they can to leave the scene of the crime.

“Ignore them,” a voice says behind me, and who I find to belong to my nearly only friend here.

“Easier said than done,” I reply, following him to the kiosk to clock in.

“How ya holdin’ up?” Asher asks, looking behind me after he puts his code in.

“I couldn’t even tell ya,” I confess as I punch my number in for one of the last times. I bring my eyes to meet his and I feel my lip wobble when our eyes connect.

He reaches out and wraps an arm around me, pulling me into his side.

“Come on now, don’t start crying because you’ll miss me too much,” he jokes as I nuzzle my head into his chest, my arms winding around his taut middle. I laugh with him as I swipe at a tear on my cheek.

“You’re the only one I’ll miss,” I tell him, looking up to find his eyes that are somewhere up there at the top of his lanky body.

“We both know that’s not true,” he whispers with a flick of his brow. I nod and return my cheek to his chest and give him a squeeze. “Go get ‘em, Tiger,” are the last words I hear from him with a wink and a toothy grin. Oh, Ash, what would I do without you?

“Good morning, Ms. Holte,” somebody says as my fingers leave the handle of the break room door.

“Oh hi, Amelia. How many times do I have to tell you to call me Becky?” I reply casually as I meet the eyes of Amelia Jones.

“Yes yes, of course, I’m sorry uh, Becky,” she says nervously, stumbling over her words and nearly her feet as we walk to my desk.

“It’s okay. How are you this morning? Do you think you’re almost ready to take over for me on Monday?” I ask her with a teasing tone, even though it’s the plain truth and a hard one to swallow.

“I think so, I just hope I can do as good of a job as you, Becky,” she replies with a sugary sweet smile.

I thank her before we start our day with her sitting at the desk and me sitting at the side now because this is how it’s going to be from now. I still can’t get used to it, even if all but a few of my personal effects are now replaced with her own. I gulp before forcing a smile and letting her begin.

“Lookin’ great this morning, ladies,” a familiar raspy voice chirps and I look up to see Harry coasting on by with a wink. I hope Amelia can get over her little crush before Monday because God knows that isn’t going to bode well. I should know.  

+

Mid morning I take a tea break as well as an Amelia break, because God, how can somebody be that happy all of the time? I drop a couple of sugar cubes into my tea and stir the spoon around, hearing its clinking and scraping as another sound interrupts my thoughts.

“Are you actually getting sad about leaving this job finally? I thought this was something you’ve wanted for a long time,” Asher’s sunshine voice mumbles from the doorway as he closes the door behind him.

“Yes and yes,” I reply with a small laugh and return my eyes to my cup of light brown tea.

“Ah, I knew it,” he responds, pointing a finger at me. He stops in front of me and leans against the countertop, looking around and behind him nervously. Asher wrings his hands together and nibbles his lip, things I’ve only seen him do when he has something on his mind.

“God, can’t anybody around here act normally today?” I huff before taking a cautionary sip, but it’s still too hot to drink quite yet. “I swear, Amelia is acting even more weird than usual. She kept having me help her with copies and scans, even though she nailed that the first day here, and then was talking secretively to Harry a lot. Then there’s Harry and Myles acting weird, I mean even Jennings is being nice to me today, and then there’s you acting like you’re being watched by the cops.”

“I am not acting weird!” he protests with a funny look, but I think we both know I don’t believe him for a second.

“Whatever, I’ll find out why soon enough,” I say, taking my cup of tea and leaving the breakroom to continue supervising Amelia even though she’s nailing every part of the job and she hasn’t even officially started. I’m not even gone from this job yet and I’m being shown up by my replacement. Ugh.

+

“Hey, Becky? . . Becky?” a voice speaks, interrupting my daydreaming.

“Uh yeah?” I say, spinning around to find Amelia standing in front of the desk. Now her desk. Her bangs crowd her eyes as she tightens the bow on her waist tying her wrap around violet dress that hugs her in all of the right places. She even has a better body than me, what the fuck.

“I uh t-told the client coming at noon that we’ll go a-and wait for them in the conference room, so um if you’re ready . . ,” she trails off, not knowing what to say next because she can hardly get out a full sentence as it is.

“Uh yeah, sure let’s go,” I say, getting to my feet. “There should be some notepads and pens in there. We’ll just do a preliminary consultation with them to see what kind of representation they would need from Harry, and also if their case would be up his alley,” I explain, and she nods fast as if I’ve already explained this before.

As she leads me away from the desk and down the hallway towards the conference room and the offices, I rack my brain wondering if I’ve already told her this. I’ve done this annoying repeating thing before already, and it’s embarrassing enough when she tells me that she knows because I’ve gone over it already. I don’t want it to happen again, especially in front of a client. I don’t know why I’m worrying about it anyways when it’s my last day here, I mean-

Amelia interrupts my inner monologue when she opens the door to the dark conference room and suddenly the lights turn on as the rest of my senses are bombarded.

“Surprise!” a mix of voices shout at me, freezing me in place. “Happy going away party, Becky!” my coworkers continue as they throw their arms in the air, confetti blowers popping, kazoos kazooing, and party hats atop their heads.

My mouth opens as if to speak, but the words run away from me as my cheeks pinch with a smile. “Oh my- I don’t know what to say. Um, wow thanks, everybody!” I beam with excitement and am suddenly overwhelmed with hugs from everybody and anybody from the firm - people I don’t think I’ve ever seen and others who I didn’t like and who didn’t like me, including “deer in the headlights” guys from this morning.

“I’m sorry, I hated to keep it from you, but I promised,” Asher says, finally coming to my rescue with a drink he shoves into my hand as he wraps me up in a warm hug.

“It’s okay, Ash, I guess I can let you off the hook,” I laugh as I hug him back.

“I’m really gonna miss you, ya know. I don’t know how I’m going to survive this shithole without you,” he continues, giving me a kiss on the head.

“Awww, Ash, don’t make me start crying again.”

“I know, I’m just so good at it,” he giggles with a wobbly voice, and I laugh too.

“Go have something to eat, but not that Jello salad Bitchy Trishie from IT brought. It’s probably poisoned with her spit or something,” he teases, and I smack his arm playfully as he walks away sticking his tongue out at me.

I laugh softly to myself before taking a drink from my cup of fruit punch, looking around at everybody milling around. Eating free food. Hugging one another. Laughing with each other. Talking with people they say they hate. And signing the poster board on the table by the food, writing fake messages to me that I’ll most likely read only once or never. I tsk when I see one of the most gossipy girls signing it, but as I turn my head to look away my vision is blessed with that of something else.

My lips spark with an instant smile that outdoes my surprise of just a few minutes ago. He sees me just a few seconds later, and a smile tugs his lips upwards effortlessly.

“What d’ya think, did I do a good job?” Harry asks as he stops in front of me, holding his arms out and my jaw drops in astonishment.

“Y-you did all of this?” I ask, pointing at the food, the streamers hanging from the ceiling, my favorite music falling from the speakers, my favorite foods donning the tables in the corner, and on and so forth. Okay, so maybe this isn’t so bad.

“Who d’ya think did it?” he laughs, giving me a fake glare. I barely have time to laugh with him when people start clinking their solo cups with plastic spoons - it’s an even more annoying sound than you would think - and shouting “speech, speech, speech” over and over with their eyes on Harry.

I find myself chanting along with them as his cheeks fill with the color of roses. “Alright, alright, calm down ya crazy lot,” he shouts, dimples drilling into his cheeks as he uses his arms to tell them to quiet down. “I didn’ really prepare a speech, but fine, I guess you lot will get one. Fuck, where do I even start?” he titters, and so does everybody else at his choice of words.

Harry thumbs at his bottom lip as he stares off into the distance before his eyes float over to me and glue themselves there. “Becky, or as I like to fondly call her, Becks, I dunno where to even begin with you, love . . Never have I had a personal assistant like you. No offense to you, Amelia darling, but there’s never been one like you, Becks. Yer one of a kind and nobody could ever replace you. Once again, no offense,” Harry continues, occasionally pointing at Amelia laughing and making her blush up, but nonetheless, she waves him away in response. “There aren’t even words that exist to describe you and how amazing you’ve been t’ me and tha firm, and I know because I went to uni and fucking law school so I know a lotta big words,” insert here a throaty laugh of Harry’s echoed by those of the room’s. “Yer a bloody angel with all the shit you put up with from me, from several coffee runs a day, to grocery runs, to dry cleaning runs, to going down to the creepy ass files room and wading through spider webs to find what I needed for my cases. You were my lucky charm, Becks, you were tha reason I won so many cases, ‘cuz if I didn’t have ya there checking me notes or making sure I did it all right, I dunno where Ida been without you. And ‘s safe t’ say I dunno where ‘ll be without you afta t’day, or tha firm for that matter. So thank you, thank you, and thank you a billion for all that ya did in yer short time here and I wish you tha best in tha future. I know yer gonna do bloody amazing things out in the world, I can’ wait t’ hear all ‘bout ‘em. I hope we’ll see you back out there in our li’l law world soon, I know you’d kill it,” Harry says, his voice cracking in places that pull tears from my eyes and down my cheeks. “I don’t care what any o’ these idiots say, ‘cuz nobody’s gonna miss you as much as ‘ll miss you,” he ends with tears threading through his words, jolting his voice to a stop.

The tears welling in his glassy eyes finally topple over and land on his cheeks, just as he steps forward to embrace me in a warm hug. My face goes into his chest and his chin rests atop my head, fitting together perfectly like a puzzle piece as our arms wind around one another. “I meant every word I said, Becks. I hope and pray ya’ll finish up school and fight our fight, cuz I know you’d kill the hell out of it . . If ya do, yer welcome back here, we’d be bloody lucky t’ have ya again. Anytime yer welcome, Becks . . . I really dunno what ‘ll do without ya here, I dunno ‘bout that Amelia . . ‘m so sorry about everything, Becks, you have no idea how sorry I am; it kills me every day,” Harry speaks into my hair, tears strangling his voice every few words. I sniffle against his chest, spilling tears there and he sniffles above me where he too spills them.

“I’m going to miss you more than I’d like to admit,” I confess into the collar of his silky mustard button down. “I won’t miss the midnight texts or 4 coffee runs a day,” I laugh and he does it with me. “Thank you, that all truly means a lot to me, Harry. I wish things didn’t have to end this way either . . but they do,” I finish, pulling away from him and looking him in the teary eyes briefly before severing the pain and wiping away the same from my cheeks.

I wish it didn’t have to be this way, either, but it has to be. But that’s your fault, Harry, not mine.

[koiisstuff-blog]

Your Voice

Project #1

Prompt: A girl who found out she has telepathy.

Theme: Noises

I used to be just a normal girl. Used to. To think I'd end up using such a phrase on myself. What a joke. Anyways, like I said, I used to be your average joe. Studying. Day in day out. Fulfilling the social norm. Being 'me'.

And then one day, everything changed.

In the middle of a quiet intellect war, an examination on math, I managed to hear something. At first, it started of as a whisper. Soft and quiet, like scribbles on a rough paper. I could hear those soft whispers creeping up on me. Those soft whispers slowly manifesting as quiet thoughts inside my head. Confused, I looked around the classroom. My little brain just could not fathom why voices were appearing in my head, when basically, nobody's mouth was open. So i ignored it, as I angrily erased the equation before its completion.

The paper crinkled up, and I could see the very surface of the paper getting slowly eaten away by my eraser. The voice was getting louder and louder and louder and louder.  My eraser was smudging the paper grey in colour, but i couldn't stop. It felt like if I'd stopped focusing my entirety into erasing the paper, slowly tearing it apart, something bad would happen.

So I continued, moving the eraser as hard as i can, seeing my equation turn into a helpless grey smudge, and that grey smudge to something that looked like the surface of old felt. But even then, I could still hear the voice. The voice, echoing in my head like writings carved onto a monument. And before I knew it, I found myself trying to make out what the voice was trying to say. But I couldn't do it. The voice was too messy, like a bundle of yarn you could never untie.

Even so, my eraser kept moving, scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing against the paper. The paper got thinner and thinner and thinner as its layers were forcefully scrubbed off. And then, the paper tore, and the action I was focusing on stopped abruptly. My math paper, with a slight tear on the side. And then, I realized why I couldn't make out the voice was saying.

It wasn't just a voice, they were voices. Voices, from different people and different places. All the screams in the hearts of the examinees. Sentences like "I can't do this." and "How can I possibly solve this?" were all jumbled up into a messy ball of thoughts. All of them, forcefully hammered into my little brain that could not even fathom the origin of these voices.

And then, my vision went black and my blood stream paused.

The next time I woke up, I was in the hospital. The first face I saw belonged to my mom, worries manifested to tears in her eyes. She was in a different attire than that morning. Instead of her usual office worker attire, a black gown with the same shade of high heels, she was wearing a green waitress uniform, akin to those in fast food restaurants.

I pushed myself up and she pounced at me, the scent of burgers and french fries seeped into my nose. And then, for the next hour, I would hear how I collapse in the middle of math examination, the one subject I hate. I would hear about how there was a tear in my paper, and how the teacher fetched me to the hospital after trying multiple but ineffective ways to wake me up. I would hear about how the moment the hospital informed my mom, she hurriedly left her job and came all the way to the hospital, supposedly kilometres away. And then I'd hear about how the doctor said the reason for me passing out was estimated to be something akin to a major headache or just too much stress.

And then, I'd hear, in a quiet voice akin to the doctor's, "There was nothing wrong with her. Why did she pass out?"

Three years passed since then, and I've grown. I realized I could read minds. Someway somehow. Since then, my world has been noisy. Too noisy. I can't shut it up. While studying I'd hear voices talking about how boring classes are. And while bathing I'd hear voices talking about the brands of shampoo. And while eating at a restaurant, I'd hear voices talking about how awful the food tasted, or how tasteless the soup was. I'd hear those voices daily, these voices forcing themselves into my brain.

At first, the voices were excruciatingly painful, distracting me at every second I choose to breathe. I try to think. To think about something. To think about the solution to these stupid school exercises. But all I'd hear was just echo, echo, echo inside my head. I can't think. Can't shut the echoes out. Because of that, I've lost quite a number of things.

Now, I've grown significantly accustomed to them.

After living alongside these voices for a few months, I've learnt to ignore them. To choose not to listen although they're there. I learnt to treat them as simply background themes. Like sound effects in a game. Like the words coming out of a news reporter's mouth. They have become, slowly but surely, a part of me. I distanced myself from others, because it was no fun knowing each and every thought they have. I stopped trying during examinations, because there was no way in knowing whether it was my answer, or someone else's. It was like playing a game on easy mode. Satisfying at first, boring after a certain period.

Besides that, I started wearing earphones, headphones, it didn't matter, as long as they stopped noises from entering my ears. I hated them. The way they made my ears hurt, the way they made the insides of my head feel empty. But now, they've become a necessity. Something that became the line between actual noises from my surroundings and voices from others in my head. In fact, I'm sane now because of them.

So as I was walking down the corridor, headphones covering my ears. My eyes were glued to my phone. But I wasn’t looking at phone. I was just pretending. Pretending to be busy, so no one would bother me. As usual, students in the corridor dodged me like dodging an arrow. After I pulled out a certain something two years ago, it started becoming a tradition to stay away from me. I appreciated it. A lot.

But even though I was sure I'd knock into no one. I knocked into someone anyways. But what shocked me the most wasn't the fact that I knocked into somebody, but the fact that I heard a soft and trembling voice, etched into my mind.

"Help me."

I reach my hand out to feel for my headphones. But they were still there. Then I set my eyes upon the person in front of me. I was immediately faced with an expression that displayed unpleasantness, annoyance and anger.

"What the hell, man?" He said, leaning down to pick up the documents which fell.

"It wasn't you, was it?" I asked, looking down at him.

"Huh?" His voice, though muffled by the headphones, I could hear well. It may have been similar. But definitely different.

"Not you."

I turned over and searched the crowd for the owner of the voice. It was reccess time, and the halls and corridors alike was filled with people, students moving one way and the other. I was drowning in the heavy crowd. Even so, I ran in the hallways, knocking into every person and their belongings possible. There was just something, something about that voice.

I think, no, I know that I got this power, just so I could hear that voice. I have to find the owner of this voice. I don't why, but I have to.

"Sorry." I knocked into another and watched her files drop to the floor.

"Sorry about that." I squeezed between a gap available between two people.

"Sorry, coming through." I pushed a jock aside and pulled down my headphones, having it hang on my neck. Voices, various voices, from both my surroundings and from others entered my world, blasting through my atmosphere.

"I'm sorry." I made my way through the last hurdle and reached a place with less people. The surrounding voices died away, and the ones that were left rang clear as day in my head.

"Someone, help me." And there it was again, in my head. Loud and clear. "I don't want to do this. I need to do this. I can't do this." Trembling and fading away, like a butterfly fluttering away.

"Then don't do it." I yelled out, deep in my heart, as if hoping that it could reach them. I could no longer hear the other voices. There was just one voice. No more voices. Just one. Just like the whisper from the beginning.

"You can't convince me anymore." It replied. Trembling even more, it said, "I'm already at the rooftop. I'm doing it today, no excuses."

It reached them. It reached them didn't it? Immediately, I turned towards the staircase. While running up the stairs, I thought about how its all started three years ago, how it led to now. Everything that's change after that first occurence, everything else which stayed the same. How it changed me.

First floor.

How my mother looked at me at the hospital. Eyes filled with worry, sweat dripping from her chin. That waitress outfit that was disturbingly similar to Gally's Pizza a street down the hospital. Completely different than outfit she was wearing that morning and this morning.

Second floor. One more to go.

How I distanced myself from the others. After pushing away my best and only friend, by yelling at her the words I heard from her voice deep within. Words which talked about how fed up she was with me. Her expression that showed genuine shock and for some reasons, hurt.

Third floor. Last one to the roof.

How people avoided me ever since. That jock i pushed away. I remember him walking up to me stating how mean and awful I was to have talked to his babe like that. After that incident, it was as if there was an invisible barrier around me, a circle which pushed others away.

I pushed the doors leading to the rooftops aside and saw the the owner of the voicre. I saw you. You turned over from the edge of the building and looked at me, confusion in your eyes. I see your body tilted backwards ever so slightly. You were going to fall. You allowed yourself to fall.

And then, in my head, I heard you.

"Don't help me, please, don't save me."

But I didn't obey you. I couldn't obey you. I wasn't going to stand still as you chose to launch yourself off this building, off this world. So i kept running, towards you.

It was you wasn't it? Mr. I Can't Do This. The first voice I heard. The first voice I made out. I think, I've been searching for you all this time. I think, I've been wanting to help you, to save you. Because that voice was just so feeble and fearful.

I think, I've kept this power just for this moment.

Your body tilted more, and I see you leaving the edge. I keep running. My legs hurt from the stress.

"I'll save you!" I yelled out loud as I reached out to you. At that moment, nothing else was forcefully hammered into my brain anymore. No more voices, no more thoughts. Just you. And I'll definitely save you. And then, on that last second, my fingers touched yours. And the voices I used to be able to hear faded away, turning to ashes and disappear from existence.

Finally, my world is silent.

A slice of koii:

I think it's great to be able to read others' mind. You'd know everything about them. But wouldn't it get boring? Since the greatest ordeal in knowing a person is the attempt to understand them better. Its one of the greatest satisfaction out there.

Still, it's also useful in the sense that you'll get to save people. Many, many people. Even now, unbeknownst to us, someone is suffering, deep inside, from the world, from themselves.

It's a great power, but the strain and consequences which comes from it are heavy. What if you can't stop yourself from mind reading? What if you can't think and focus properly? What if you can't differentiate your own thoughts from others?

There are just too many to list.

However, to communicate through telepathy with someone else is special in its own way. You have an unbreakable bond with someone else. That, in itself, is beautiful.

Anyways, this is my first writing project. I hope you enjoyed it, if you didn't, I'll try harder next time to impress you.

Thank you and have a nice day.

[unbefuckinglieveable]

Remember Me: Part 2

    Angelo looked at the deviant in front of him, Connor looked like head been standing in front of a leaf blower, hair swept back in a messy fashion,the strap of the messenger bag was adjusted awkwardly. Angelo laughed lightly,and then noticed a concerned look on the androids face. “ You androids certainly  don't play around, you said twenty minutes you should have said ten.” He said praising Connor for being so efficient.

    Connor didn't  acknowledge the praise, he didn't deserve it. If Connor had forced Hank to stay, Then they would be at home petting Sumo and Hank would be drinking coffee on his day off in tacky old plaid sweatpants. The would have taken Sumo to the park and play for hours on end.  ‘This is my fault’

     ‘You don't  deserve his forgiveness, Connor.’ The deviant heard in his head, the closest  thing he knew to evil, Amanda.  The voice was startling and when he realised it was her, he groaned. He hadn't  heard from her since the revolution and she tried to force him to murder Jericho’s leader.  

     “You alright there robo-cop?” Angelo said flashing a toothy smile,then he noticed  how unamused Connor looked, sighed, then put a visitor's badge on the table, “ Room 434, he might not re-” Connor was off to the elevator no longer listening. He stood to follow the Android down the hallway. However he got stopped to answer another client's  question watching as Connor climbed into the elevator. Connor just had to see that Hank was okay, he flicked his quarter from hand to hand waiting.

    The elevator  door opened and the android was released walking briskly to room 434, he took a moment the fix his hair and the bag. The he entered quietly looking at the white walls  and the TV playing something idly as he set the bag down. Hank was alive, and Connor felt elated.

   Connor smiled brightly walking to his dad leaning up slightly on the bed, “ Hank! I'm so gl-” before the elder turned on him glaring and cut him off.

     “Cole! Son I don't  care how old you are, or what the circumstance is, you do not call me by my first name.”  The elder barked disciplining his son in agitation. Hank was very stern about his son calling him Hank.  He did not expect Cole’s expression to wilt like a flower left on the counter too long, or the tears beading up at the corners of  eyes and then dripping down his cheeks.

    “ Jeeze Cole, I corrected you, I didn't disown you, relax kid!” He said in a chiding tone watching Cole’s shoulders sag and his head glance to the ground and away.  Hank sat up sighing softly, “Come here.”

     Connor tried to find the way to explain, he had never felt so many mixed feelings at once. It was a mix of punching things, hiding his face into Sumo, and having a successful  mission all at once. However it felt so intense,and stressful.

     Stress levels at: 65.07 and climbing at a rate of .45 per minute.

   He listened to Hank and walked over taking a seat on the bed. Hank hugged him close and pet his hair for a moment.  “ What's wrong Cole?” Hank said softly to his son trying to reassure him, Connor could only shake his head, he had to process, if he still had his Led it'd  be flashing.

     A memory  flashing through his mind. “I'm  whatever you want me to be Lieutenant...your partner, your buddy to drink with or just a machine. Designed to accomplish a task.”   Hank wants Cole  not  Connor.  Connor had said whatever Hank wanted him to be.  Connor could be Cole. He could try.

  “I am just so glad you're alive dad. You were hurt really bad do you remember anything?”   Connor responded sadly wishing he was factory reset. So he didn't have to do this.

    “We can do that  for you Connor, you never have to feel this pain again.”  Amanda chimed in his mind, Connor shook the trespassing thought off worried she was going to just stay with him.

    “ I am sorry, may I speak  with you Co-” Angelo went to interrupt but was interrupted  by Connor.

    “Of course, I'll be right back dad.” The deviant said taking a stand, stepping into the hall and shutting the door, behind him.  “ What is going on?” The Android demanded looking at the Rn with disdain,pent up anger swelling inside like an overfilled pool.

      “Hank has suffered  brain trauma, he may remember  soon, or it could be permanent, I tried to warn you earlier but you walked away on me.” Angelo said adjusting his powder blue scrub, Connor  felt lost. Would Hank ever remember the Thing he'd  worked with and spent time with? Or would  Hank spend the rest of his life with Cole? Ignorant of the  thing that thought of him as a dad.  

     “When can he be released?” Connor questioned  softly hanging his head, he hoped it would be long, please not to soon. If he was going to be Cole, he had a lot of work to do. That much was clear.

     Angelo, sighed and shot a look at the younger android  that seemed sympathetic. “ He should be able to return home in a week, Connor.”

   Connor nods softly, his voice quiet and broken,“ One more thing, please don't  call me Connor, I prefer Cole.” He grit his teeth, looking at the floor, the floor had an identity, and a purpose. It was a floor, and its  purpose was to support the maximum occupancy of 309 people so they didn't fall to the floors below.

    Connor had a purpose, but no longer had an identity. His purpose was to be whatever Hank needed of him, and that happened to Be /NOT/ Connor. He did not want to fail this mission.  

     “ Very well Cole,  I hope you have a pleasant visit with Hank.”  Angelo responded watching the android turn away, not the same excited android who had answered the phone earlier.   

     Connor  walked into the room  and smiling down at Ha- his dad. Even though Connor was hurt, he was glad Hank was alive.  Hank was laying back now, staring up at the ceiling when he left heard Connor enter the room.

     “Cole, what happened?” The older man asked quietly. His hand moving to pat the bed, a gesture to summon Cole  to come and explain. Cole came and sat by his side placing a cold hand on his father's.

     “You were attacked last night by a PL600,  the android hurt you pretty bad, and well I'm  curious what you do remember so the guys at work and I can catch it.” Cole said solemnly and with a sense  of resignation that surprised Hank. It was like a machine taking on a mission, there was no humanity in those words.

    “Cole, I understand  you're upset, but don't  get yourself killed by one of those damn plastic p-”

    “ Pricks, I get it dad. But do you remember anything? It would help me with the investigation.” Cole said stiffly, his hands trembling slightly.  

     “ No, I don't  remember much of anything. I remember you, Sumo,my job,and that your mother took off a long time ago, and even that's fuzzy, everything is a jumbled mess in my head. I hope it clears up soon kid.”Hank said calmly, what does a man who can't  remember do for an investigation.

“ Alright, I gotta get back to the office, I got a lot of work to do, especially  if my partner is going to be in the hospital for the next week.” Cole said sadly standing up and walking to the door.  

    Stress levels at 77 .87 %

   “Hey, I love you!” Hank called out to Cole,who turned and smiled at him softly.

    “I love you too, dad.”  Connor reciprocated quietly, giving a wave and exiting the room,shutting  the door behind him. Connor did not like this feeling, at first it felt like, an inability  to escape, like he had an automobile on his chest,he felt like hiding at home and never coming out again.  His stress levels rising, steadily. Connor walked to Angelo, he handed him the visitor's badge.

    There was nothing to be said, Connor just had to leave, had to go.The deviant  pressed the button repeatedly, ‘ I have to get out if here, I can't do this. I can't. I can't.’

          ‘No you can't  Connor, you always fail your missions.’

          ‘Not right now Amanda!’  

    The elevator  opened and Connor walked in and hit the ground floor button letting the  door close. He put his index and middle finger to his head. ‘ Markus, I need help.’   Connor sent the thought as he leaned against the wall of the elevator running his hands through the dark hair and folding at the waist slightly, he was trying to reign himself in.

    ‘ Where are you Connor? What's wrong?’

    ‘Leaving the Detroits Receiving  Hospital, Stress levels are at 86% and climbing. I don't  want to be alone right now.’

    ‘Ok, stay calm Connor.  When you get to the front of the hospital go to the garden, once there take a seat in the shade and count the blades of grass, I will be as fast as possible.’

    ‘Sure.’ The deviant  thought back as he exited the elevator, he practically ran to the garden.  His thirium pump working extra hard, to try and even himself out. His eyes scanned the area for shade, and wasn't  disappointed, he walked over to it, laid on his stomach and just started counting the individual blades of grass.

   Waiting for Markus.

[paladin-andric]

Blackheart, Chapter 7, Part 2 of 2

(A very dialogue heavy chapter! Not used to writing like this, but I think I did a pretty good job. Here we see the monsters of Palethorn attempt to heal Tourthun.)

Alexander made his way through the camp, mind racing. So many people’s lives were at stake. Whatever happened with the dragon would...well, it would happen, and Alexander would have to deal with it. If the dragon couldn’t help, so be it. The knight would find a way. He would be strong, and brave, and stalwart. He would destroy the Blackheart, even if it meant his own demise. He couldn’t let the rest of the world turn into this.

The knight marched towards the center of the camp. Monsters of all kinds lined the tiny settlement, though no one was moving. This appeared to be one of the rare instances in between surface expeditions, when most of the people had little to occupy themselves with.

Moving past tents and shacks, Alexander reached the center. As always, dim light shone down from the surface. Tourthun was lying on his side, eyes closed. A group of kobolds were standing around the dragon, chattering. Wurie was at the edge of the crowd. Spotting Alexander, he glanced over at the knight and offered a nod.

“Hey, pretty busy day, huh?” The wolfman captain crossed his arms and smiled. Alexander shrugged.

“Good luck with the kid,” Wurie offered, a sly grin on his muzzle. Alexander grimaced. Even he was joking about this?!

Stepping into the crowd, Alexander scanned for any familiar faces. He stopped as his gaze fell on Senci.

“Aha, there you are.” The knight marched up to the small warrior and crossed his arms.

“So, how’s it going? Any word on Tourthun?”

Senci nodded, smiling. “They said they’ve been working on medicine. Some kind of incense or something.”

“Yes, that’s right!” One of the kobolds stepped up to the knight. He was fairly unremarkable, though he wore a messy robe, stained with what looked like liquid spills.

“I think we have the cause of his sickness figured out! You see-”

A loud groan made the group pause. Alexander turned to see Tourthun slowly open his eyes and look around, dazed.

“Mmm...uhh...hello?” Tourthun was looking back and forth, but his eyes were glazed and unfocused.

“Ah, Tourthun. How are you feeling?” The dragon turned his head to Alexander, eyes still seeming to look straight through him.

“Ah, father. You have returned? Please do not leave me like that. I was...frightened.”

All eyes fell on Alexander. From the captain to the kobolds, many of them snickered and grinned, trying to hold in laughter. A few however, appeared confused and worried.

Alexander was red in the face. What kind of fever makes dragons think you’re their father? If he stopped playing along, how would the dragon react? Why did Wurie feel the need to stand there and stare at the knight, grinning like a loon? This was embarrassing enough on its own!

The kobold with the messy robes from earlier tapped the knight on the leg and gestured for him to come closer.

Alexander leaned down and craned his neck as the lizard cupped a clawed hand over his ear. “I think the magic made his brain all mushy,” the kobold uttered in a nervous whisper.

“Uhh, I see that,” Alexander replied bluntly, “So what about it?”

“What is that noise? Did you bring friends over again?” Tourthun asked, the dragon appearing confused.

“Yes, just a moment,” Alexander answered. He turned back to the kobold and shrugged.

“Well,” the creature continued, still whispering, “From what the doctors have said, our theory is that the necrosis damaged more than his chest.”

Alexander’s eyes widened, horror and comprehension dawning on him.

“You mean…”

“That’s right,” the robed monster said, “His brain’s all jumbled up and half-gone. It’s why he’s acting so funny!”

“How do we fix it?” Alexander asked hurriedly.

The kobold gestured to the crowd. A group of kobolds carrying what looked like a giant bowl pushed through the crowd.

“We have gathered powerful healing incense. It’s normally for...tiny things, like us, but we thought that if we just use a lot more…”

Oh great, the knight thought, an experiment.

“...that it should work on him!” the kobold finished, excited.

Alexander crossed his arms. “So, how exactly does it work? Is it like the healing powder the shellbacks make?”

“Ah, not quite! This mixture is a fine smoke that the user must inhale! Once in the body, it begins repairing damaged organs and tissue.”

“So…”

“It should heal his brain!” The kobold finished. “Though...it clouds the mind for a time, and makes the user very sleepy.” Alexander nodded.

“Alright...Tourthun!” The knight called out to the dragon. “I’ve been looking for ways to soothe your ills, and a few friends have brought me this.”

“NO!” The dragon roared angrily. The reverb made Alexander’s head spin. The knight was taken aback, as was the rest of the crowd. What was driving him to such rage?

“Tourthun?”

“No more medicine! You promised!”

Ah, this again…

“It’s nothing like that!” Alexander hollored back. Tourthun’s snarl disappeared, the dragon looking embarrassed.

“O-oh! I...I am sorry! I just thought...forgive my insolence!” Tourthun pressed his head and his legs up against his body, taking up less space as his gaze fell downward.

“Uh, don’t worry about it. Look, it’s not something you eat. It’s...incense. All you have to do is breathe it in. It’ll ease your pain and clear up your maladies.”

Tourthun glanced up hopefully at the knight. “Truly? No medicine? It just works on its own?”

Alexander nodded. “That’s right.”

“Well...okay! I am sorry I doubted you. Forgive me.”

The kobolds finished moving the large bowl up to the dragon, coming to a stop right in front of Tourthun’s face. Another one of the lizards ran up to the bowl with a torch and lowered it inside, setting the herbs and plants alight.

“Okay. Deep breaths. Just sit back and relax, Tourthun.” The knight looked over at the crowd, everyone slowly backing up.

“Mister knight, get away!” One of the kobolds whispered. Alexander frowned.

“Why? What did you do?” The kobold shook its head and waved its hands nervously.

“No, nothing like that! It’s just...magic smoke! Enough for a dragon! It could put you to sleep for good! So much dosage for tiny things like us! Too much to take!”

Alexander nodded in realization. Enough incense to knock him on his ass, eh? Well, that was plenty good reason for staying back.

He backed up with the rest of the group, forming a large, open circle around the dragon.

Tourthun eyes began to droop. “Aah...oh, my head...mmm…” “Everything alright?” Alexander called to the dragon. Torthun let out a deep rumble.

“Hmm...yes, wonderful...this scent is...lovely. I...I think I will...rest...for a moment longer.” The dragon slowly lowered his neck, bringing his large head down to the floor beside the incense bowl. He closed his eyes and sighed, satisfied.

“Oh...and...father?”

“...Tourthun?” Alexander answered quietly.

“Thank you...for everything. I am...glad you are here.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

With that, the dragon ceased talking.

The knight wiped his forehead. It was already hotter in here with the large, open flame, and the thick scent of the medicine wasn’t helping. It smelled like...smokey wood and flowers. Even back here, the smell wafted to Alexander in an overpowering manner. Good thing he had listened to the kobolds!

“So...that’s it.” The kobold in the robes returned, looking up at Alexander. “Now we just let the magic do its work, and if our theory is correct, he’ll start recovering!”

“And you’re SURE this is safe?” Alexander questioned.

“Of course!” The robed figure answered quickly, “This is an old kobold secret. We used to use this to heal our people from scrapes with our masters’ enemies. Dragons have mighty scales that turn blades with ease, so the best method to attack them is magic! Thus, we and our masters would often be targeted with necrotic magic. We created this mixture long ago to prevent further losses once we got the wounded to safety, and to ensure our masters lived on.”

“I thought you said this was for ‘tiny people’, not dragons.”

“Aha! Well like I said, we USED to heal our masters with this. I don’t know if you noticed, but we’ve fallen out of favor with dragons in recent times. As the great ones grow older, they gain power, and we become less and less appealing as servants. We are small and weak. Then there was Greenbranch’s evangelizing, which made a lot of us very picky with who we vowed to serve. Without a complete lack of morals, the crueler dragons couldn’t rely on us, and a lot of good ones still see us as nasty little creatures.”

“And so this art has become an elusive one.” Alexander finished.

“Yes! Many of us haven’t used this ritual on someone other than each other in our whole lives, and even using it at all is rare, now! I mean, with the exile, we’ve been living in a peaceful, orderly city. Not many uses for combating dark magic.”

“You lot seem...brighter than the stories paint you as.” Alexander rubbed his chin. “A lot of stories of rabid beasts throwing themselves at travelers back home…and really, I didn’t expect one of you to know the tongue of man, let alone so many.”

The robed lizard perked up. “Ah! Well I’m flattered you think I’m...bright. To be honest, many of us are...less so inclined to learn. Though, living in Palethorn, with so much knowledge and the means to attain it in your hands, it’s only natural some of us benefited! Moving from caves to the city meant opportunities to learn where there had been none before. As for me, I’ve always been an herbalist, and if you know anything about herbalism, you know there’s a LOT of reading involved. Only natural someone of my profession knows a lot!”

“I understand you,” Alexander said, “I suppose there weren’t many schools and archives out in the wild…”

The kobold laughed. “That’s right! Many were illiterate before we came here. To a lot of us, philosophy was just a funny word Greenbranch said a lot.”

The little herbalist smiled. “Well! Everything’s all done here, I suppose! Once he awakens, we should know if it worked or not.”

“Right.” That last line worried Alexander. What if it DIDN’T work? What then? Would Tourthun be stuck in a cycle of mental regression, thinking the knight to be his father forever? Would he lose what was left, and become feral?

No. He couldn’t think like that. He would drive himself mad with worry.

He had to have hope.

Wurie walked over as the crowd of kobolds dispersed. A few lingered around, still gazing at the dragon in awe.

The wolfman looked at Alexander, wide-eyed.

“Well...that just happened.”

The knight rubbed the back of his head. “I, uh...yeah.”

“Phew...this is insanity, you know?” Alexander nearly burst out laughing at the wolfman.

“Now there’s an understatement. Can you believe this?”

Alexander turned back to look at Tourthun. The dragon was curled up on the floor, next to the incense, eyes closed.

“A giant, intimidating beast of legend...curled up on the floor, calling you father and whining as a child would.” The captain shook his head. “Say what you will...magic is a terrifying thing, if it can bring a behemoth like that to this sorry state.”

Alexander sighed. “I suppose. That must have been a trump card though, surely. If he recovers, they’ll have lost more than us!”

The wolfman frowned. “I wish I had your optimism, sir knight. I just...I think we’re up against too much here. That’s no reason to quit, but I...I just…” Wurie trailed off.

“...it’s just so much, you know?” The wolfman’s sorrow was plain in his voice, high and quivering. “Everyone’s counting on me to get them through this, but...I don’t think I have what it takes. I’m just a guard...and these people need a champion. I am not sufficient…”

Alexander put his hands on Wurie’s shoulders. The captain looked up, surprised. The knight locked eyes with the captain.

“We WILL get through this.” Alexander shook Wurie to emphasise his words. “You aren’t leading an army. You don’t have to take on the forces of hell by yourself. You need not carry every last man, woman and child to Geralthin in your arms. The people don’t need a leader that’s a hero…they just need someone to believe in. To give them hope. By being a leader they can trust, well...you’re plenty heroic already.”

Wurie blinked, mouth open. “I...I…”

The wolfman wrapped his arms around the knight. Alexander stood in silence as the captain took deep, quivering breaths, patting him on the back.

After a few moments, Wurie stood up straight and let go of the knight. The wolfman sighed and looked at Alexander, fire in his eyes, even as the fur on his face was matted and wet.

“Thank you, Alexander...I needed that.” The knight offered a nod and a smile.

“We’re not gods, Wurie. We are men. We are fallible, prone to stress and despair. Just remember...even glaciers will crumble eventually. Let your grievances be known to those who will listen. It is all that keeps us sane.”

“I...I will.” Wurie gazed at Alexander, something in his eyes different. He looked on Alexander with a deep, newfound respect. “Thank you, my friend.”

The knight patted him on the shoulder and grinned. “You’ll lead these people to safety, I’m certain...as for me, I’ve got work to do.”

Alexander waved to Senci, who ambled over and tugged at Wurie’s armor.

“He’s right!” The kobold exclaimed, excited as ever, “You’re doing great! Everyone here looks up to you!”

Wurie smiled. “Ah, Senci...thanks, ya rascal.” The captain patted the kobold on the head. “I bet your old teacher would be proud of you.” Senci bashfully glanced to the side, looking embarrassed, but happy.

“Senci, we’re gonna go on an expedition. Check out some possible paths to the Blackheart.”

Senci nodded. “You got it, sir knight! Seeya, Wurie!” Senci waved as he moved to follow the knight.

“Good luck!” Wurie yelled back.

“That was SO nice of you!” Senci exclaimed, walking alongside Alexander, “I’ve never seen him vulnerable like that, and you perked him right up! I always thought he was a big stick in the mud, but...he’s been bottling a lot of stuff up, apparently.”

Alexander shrugged. “In times like these, sometimes you just need someone to let you know you’re not alone.”

Senci stared at Alexander, grinning. “You remind me of master.”

“Hopefully I’ll meet him one day,” the knight returned, “He sounds like a right good man.”

“I bet you two would be like best friends!” Senci said excitedly, “You’d LOVE visiting our home back in Lannis. There’s a training room, and a library, and a game room! We talk, and read, and relax, and every Saturday, we have tea and cookies…”

Beginning | Previous | Next

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @candy-m-s, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @lady-redshield-writes, @sheralynnramsey

Want to be tagged whenever I post about Blackheart? Just ask and I’ll add you to the list!

[lissahawthorne]

marked me like a bloodstain

Who: Clarissa Hawthorne & Charlie Hawthorne-Mills ft. Andrea Hawthorne-Mills

When:  Saturday, December 5, 2020

Where: Hawthorne-Mills home

What: Clarissa calls on the aid of her sibling-in-law to help her make sense of her jumbled thoughts from the night before.

Warnings: talk of past abuse

Word Count: 1650

Notes:  Part 3 of 3. Part 1. Part 2.

The first thing Clarissa did when she got to Andrea and Charlie’s place was take a nap. She’d spoken briefly with them about what had happened, figuring it was best not to worry them more than she was already liable to. Then, after she’d slept for nearly five hours, she’d set herself up in the basement recording studio, deciding she wanted to work through as much of what she’d tried to create the night before as she possibly could.

After about an hour of trying and failing to make sense of even a little of it, she called on Charlie. Charlie was a music producer and the kind of person who could understand the gibberish she’d come up with in her haste to dump out every part of her brain into words. Which is how the pair of them ended up sitting at the piano, staring at a cluttered mess of mismatched phrases across the multiple notes on Clarissa’s laptop.

“So, what exactly were you doing last night that this happened?” They asked with a soft laugh.

“Uh, I think they call it coping with trauma?” Clarissa groaned. “He was my last boyfriend, the guy that made me choose between him and my work.”

“Oh, and you ran into him last night?”

“Yeah,” She sighed. “It was a nice night and then I got home and it was like everything I’d tried to ignore and bury and move on from, came out. Like, I just couldn’t focus on anything else, and even then, I wasn’t entirely focused.”

“You’ve certainly come up with a lot in a short amount of time, it seems. Can’t say all of it will be worth something right now, but we can definitely feel it out, see what we come up with, y’know? I’m honored that you’re even letting me near this. I know you’re not looking to make music, but…” Charlie drug out the word and Clarissa bumped them with her shoulder.

“Don’t even go there. This is just me working through shit. If it turns into something worthwhile, then it does, but we’re not going there.”

Charlie held up their hands. “I know, I know.”

For a while they just worked on picking apart different notes and rearranging them, creating new documents with better structure so that things really did resemble poems or songs, versus the madness that had spilled from Clarissa’s thoughts. Eventually, however, they managed to get it down to one document that they really wanted to dive into. It was still messy, but it had the first line that had really come to Clarissa in it.

“‘You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding.’ Good line, raw as hell too. So, tell me about this guy. Tell me how this came to be, what caused this?” Charlie urged with a soft smile. Clarissa’s face scrunched up, looking at the other words in the document, glasses perched on the end of her nose.

“So, we met in Pittsburgh, he’s a few years older than me, I wasn’t looking for anyone, y’know? I’d been kind of cast aside by every other lover I’d had. People not wanting to deal with the fact I was losing my eyesight. And he came along and he was sweet and caring and he made me feel wanted. Like I was someone’s favourite. Like I was his favourite. And We did all this stuff together and it was amazing. But, I was already hurt and I didn’t want to see that with every positive thing that came of our relationship, there was a knife marking me in such a worse way.” Clarissa shrugged a little. “He was horrible to me, but every time I doubted, every time I felt those insecurities pop up and I felt unwanted or unworthy, he made me feel amazing and wanted again. So I kept falling for it, for him. After every fight. Every unresolved argument. No one else really saw it, except for Jill and I refused to believe her. He was a typical abuser, if there is such a thing.”

Charlie just nodded as Clarissa spoke, copying and pasting and adding pieces to the document they were working on. They obviously had ideas and Clarissa found it absolutely enthralling to see them work. To see them in their element like this. Sure, they’d helped her work on the arrangement she used for the Riptide cover, but this was different. This was what they were really good at. Taking the bare bones of a song and fleshing it out. Making it grow and expand and become something real and tangible.

When they were done typing, they showed the screen to Clarissa. “This is what we’ve got, it’s a starting point. Let’s give it a melody and see where it takes us, yeah?”

Clarissa looked it over, whispering the lyrics to herself, trying to get a flow for them. It was definitely something that needed to be slow, easy going. Melancholy in a melody. The idea of reminiscing, even longing, for something now gone and past. The pain of loss still lingering despite the years that had passed.

Before she could even really think about what she was doing, she was finding her bearings on the piano and then started playing one of the melodies she’d thought of the night before. It wasn’t the one that had been strongest, but it was the one that felt right. Like it was meant to along with whatever this song was. Something rather simple but complex in its emotions.

“To kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed, you drew stars, around my scars, but now I’m bleeding cos I knew you, stepping on the last train marked like bloodstain,” Clarissa started to sing. It wasn’t a beginning. It didn’t feel like one, but it was definitely something. Something that she could work with.

“Let me see that,” she motioned for the laptop and Charlie handed it over, watching her type away. “So, when we met, it was this big event and I’d gotten sort of dressed up, nice shirt, heels, lipstick, and I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Pittsburgh, but there is an unnatural amount of cobblestone. And y’know, there’s this weird visual I have of that day, the sound of high heels on cobblestone, vintage tee, I’d literally sent someone the message ‘new phone, who’s this?’ I’m pretty sure. Like it was just this really vivid day in my memory, and not just because I’d met him, but that definitely plays a part.” Clarissa explained before hanging the laptop back, her additions at the top of the page.

“That’s really cool as a visual, actually, can you start playing again?” They asked as they looked over what she’d written. She obliged and as they moved along to the melody they started rearranging what she’d written, once again turning her stream of consciousness into something resembling song lyrics. They then started to add more. “I like this visual of clothing and memories. Is there anything about him you can tell me that could work with that?”

Clarissa thought for a while, scrunching up her face a bit, fingers still idly playing the notes of what was definitely turning into a song. “Drunk, late at night, dancing. Probably fall, so he was wearing jeans, and being silly, he’d joke about kisses being the fastest way to heal a broken heart, some days I think he was right about that.” She laughed a bit, watching as Charlie continued typing.

By the time Andrea called the pair of them up from the basement for dinner, they were bubbling with excitement. They had something that actually resembled a song on their hands. It wasn’t anywhere near finished, but it was far more than they’d had when they started and it made Clarissa feel a lot better, both about herself and everything that had happened since the day before.

“Well, you two have certainly been hard at work, haven’t you?” Andrea teased as they set the boxes of takeaway down on the kitchen table. “I figured I’d be nice and order takeaway, so we could do something together while we ate and before I lost you both to the basement again.”

“Sorry, I know I came over to hang out and have barely seen you.” Clarissa apologised and Andrea just shook their head.

“Please, I haven’t seen you this excited about something since… Lissa, it’s been years. You weren’t even this excited when you got the job in Brooklyn. I’m just happy this is turning into something good for you. There will be plenty of time to hang out and do things when this is done. I mean, you’ll be back in here in two weeks anyway, and then you’ll be here for a week and we can catch up and do stuff then.”

“But, we really should be nice and play a game with them while we eat, what do you say?” Charlie smiled and Clarissa nodded.

“I think we can do that, might be a good thing to give our brains a break, right?”

“I certainly think so, but you’re the one with the doctorate.” They all laughed as they dished food onto plates and got settled to play a game.

Two hours later, all three would find themselves in the recording studio as Clarissa performed, for the first time in full, a song Andrea had helped dub ‘cardigan’ and for good reason. It was a start to something, what that something was, Clarissa didn’t know, but what she did know, was that Jill, and anyone else privileged enough to hear it, would definitely like it. Maybe not as much as she did, but they would. It sounded a lot like healing to Clarissa, and that was something anyone who knew her would be able to get behind, or so she hoped.

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Nightmares || CM Drabble

Me: Why is this show so mean to Spencer?! Also me: You can’t angst at me and not expect me to join! -grabs OC- YEET.

Hi uhm this is eight pages in word.

Summary: When Maeve is killed, Cleo has a decision to make about what kind of person she wants to be in Spencers life. Things get messy when they both suffer from nightmares that involve Diane.

Warnings: Nightterrors after a traumatic event. Involves mentionings of violence, death and blood.

As the light swung back and forth, her vision slowly came back. Blurry images became a darkened basement, much like the one she had been trapped in when Gareth Brooks had taken her. But it was far too quiet to be that place, for she would have heard his taunting by now if she was actually trapped.

Cleo sighed; she had done this song and dance many times before. After learning several coping methods, she even knew how to change these scenarios her mind came up with in the middle of the night. It was only when she tried to move her arms that she realised she was strapped to a chair.

Why? She recalled that while Gareth had tied her up, it had been to a pole in the cellar and not to a chair.

“Did you think it would be that easy?”

Cleo almost felt herself jump as someone approached her, instinctively making herself smaller in anticipation for a needle or a candle that didn’t come. Instead, she was there, face to face with the last person that had given the BAU so much trouble.

Who had given Spencer so much trouble.

“You should be happy with me, shouldn’t you? You should be praising me to the high heavens and back.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I? There’s nothing about you that’s worthy of praise.”

Diane raised an eyebrow, tapping the barrel of the gun against her chin as if she was thinking. A sadistic grin formed on her face, but it quickly dropped back to her icy glance

“Oh? So I didn’t eliminate your competition?”

Leaning on the arm supports of the chair, Diane got real up close and personal with Cleo, her stare almost piercing right through. Cleo was sure she could hear everything, her breathing, her heartbeat as it skipped a loop in the fear of the anticipation.

“You’ve thought it to yourself, many nights in your dreams. You knew that like me, Maeve stood above you. Better than you, smarter than you. But I had more guts than you and I decided to do something about it instead of letting her get away with pretending to be superior. I made Spencer jump hoops for her. As if he would ever do the things he did then for you.”

“He would, he has. Maeve didn’t deserve this and neither did he.”

“Oh, don’t pretend to be any better than me. You were just as jealous of Maeve as I was of her. She stole him away from you-“

“She talked to a single man who showed interest in her. I can’t blame her for that.”

“But you did, missy.”

Diane finally backed away, making Cleo release a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding. Emotions of all sorts came flooding back in; Garcia’s implications haunting her, Morgan’s advice singing through her brain.

All you need is time. Time, time she didn’t have being in this current situation. And how long was “time”? How long would it take for the numbness in her heart to diminish and allow the things she enjoyed about his friendship to return? Even after the conversation with Morgan, talking to Reid had still been difficult. The whole ordeal between Diane and Maeve had only left a bigger gap where those feelings used to be. She had been powerless to stop Diane from taking Maeve away. She had been unable to stop Diane from hurting him.

“Now why are  you crying? This is a great opportunity for you! With me gone, and Maeve gone, nothing is keeping you from pursuing him-“

“No.”

“No?” Diane asked, almost insulted. “After I shot and killed the one person that stood in your way, you’re just going to go back to moping and feeling sorry for yourself?! I’ve given you the chance to rectify your mistakes! You really are dumb, no wonder he took a liking to Maeve instead!”

“Shut up!” Cleo barked out, tugging harshly on the binds that held her to the chair.

“You don’t understand anything! You think that’s going to fix this? Me waltzing into his life like I own the place, like you didn’t rip his heart straight out of his chest with all the bullshit you pulled?! The last thing he needs right now is for me to be his rebound. That’s not fair to Maeve, it’s not fair to him, and it’s not fair to me. Did it ever come to that stupid mind of yours that revenge over rejection does nothing more than hurt others?! For fuck’s sake, if I had to take revenge for everything anyone has ever done to slightly spite me, I would end up being you! I’m not that arrogant to think Spencer, or anyone else, owes me anything!”

“End up being me?” Diane said, a grin spreading across her face as she approached closer once more.

“Oh, Cleo, you have no idea how close you are to being me. Maybe you already are, and your fighting to stop it is futile.”

“I’m not you.”

“Fine then, if you don’t appreciate my gift to you, wallow away in your own feelings. After all, if Spencer finds out how apathic you felt about Maeve, he’s going to hate you-“

“No.”

“And when he learns how you truly felt he is going to prove that his fear of me is bigger than his friendship for you-“

“No!”

Tumbling off the side of her bed, Cleo struggled aggressively with her bedsheets; completely convinced it was Diane who was restraining her. She only fully woke up when her head harshly connected to the edge of her nightstand, yelping out in pain and immediately pressing her hand to the back of her head. Feeling the wet sensation of blood, tears started to pour as the combination of pain and fear took hold of her heart.

After a moment of sitting still, mind hazy and heart racing, a shaking hand reached for the phone. She scrolled through her contacts, momentarily lingering on that of Reid.

No. No, she couldn’t. Reid suffered far enough from the recent events to burden him with this as well. If she really wanted to be a nuisance to him, telling him now about the nightmares with Diane was the best way to do it. The most selfish way to do it.

Garcia then? Didn’t seem like an option. Rossi? Morgan?

Going through each and every name in her contacts, Cleo carefully got up to get a towel and press it against the wound on her head. Tears were still occasionally rolling down, and she didn’t know if it was because of the physical pain or the fear. Her mind momentarily debated calling Emily, but she decided against that, too.

With a sob, she put the phone aside, nurturing her head wound as she anxiously bit down on a fingernail. Her heart was still pounding; was that ever going to stop?

After several bites the ridge of the nail came off with a final clack, with her absentmindedly spitting it out. Diane. Diane. The name alone send shivers down her spine, recalling memories of the final shot that she took. The final shot that ended Maeve’s life.

Clack.

What was she going to do now? Reid was heartbroken, and her apathic behaviour as a friend could no longer be tolerated. But could she bring herself to switch things around and be there for him? She had to. Reid had always been there for her; during her uncle’s death, during the aftermath of her kidnapping. She couldn’t bail on him now.

Clack.

This whole thing had become such an incredible mess. If only she had listened to what Garcia had been saying. If only she hadn’t allowed the fear and confusion and numbness to take over; it would have changed everything if she had taken the opportunity away from Maeve to become Reids girlfriend. In the end, it would have been better. She wouldn’t have died, would she? Diane stopped when she had Bobby. Stopped. She could have been stopped.

Clack.

The idea that it was all her fault for not taking action sooner only made the tears stream down more, faltering breaths intertwined with desperate gasps for air as her mind upset her further. She probably had to do something about this head wound, too. Reid couldn’t know. He would ask; and Cleo doubted that she had the guts and the honesty to tell him how she got injured. Everything was too fresh.

Clack.

Severing the last nail ridge from its base didn’t stop her from biting more and more on the last nail; long enough for her to taste blood. It was about then that her phone rang, and she instinctively reached over for it. Her heart stopped when she saw who was calling her. She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together; for his sake.

“Hello?”

“Hey, did I wake you up?”

“Yeah,” Cleo said. It wasn’t exactly wrong, anyway. The sound of the phone had gotten her out of haze; but her heart only ached more at the sound of his voice. Spencer sounded so distraught, and hurt. It was awful to hear.

“Uhm… I know it’s incredibly late, but…” Spencer started, carefully, trying to contain his own emotions. The night had been equally hard on him, his thoughts and emotions a jumbled mess.

“I… Cleo, I need you. Please.”

His voice almost cracked as he spoke; unleashing a whole new wave of feelings within Cleo that was almost overwhelming to deal with. The urge to protect, to nurture, to be there for him and help him through this; all of it suddenly erased the struggle she had felt beforehand. Forgetting about her head wound and the nails she had bitten short, she stood up; More determined than ever to reach out and help him. She had to. She was his friend, and it was her time to be there for him when the going got rough.

“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be there.”

And she was. Precisely twenty minutes later, she stood at his door, ringing the bell. He opened the door, carefully at first, but swinging the door open when he confirmed it was her. Unsure of what her wanted, he made an initiative to hug her but decided against it in the end, gesturing instead for her to come in.

“… What happened to your head?”

She should have known that he would notice as she walked past him; and it was too late to come up with a credible excuse. Despite hating the fact that she wasn’t completely honest with him, she didn’t feel like telling the complete truth either.

“I hit my head on the nightstand.”

“Are you okay?” “I think so. It’s not bleeding anymore and it doesn’t hurt. Besides, I should be asking you that, but I won’t because I’m sure I already know the answer; you’re not.”

Spencer halted for a moment, quietly shaking his head. Cleo then decided to do what he didn’t at the door, pulling him into a hug and allowing him to rest his forehead against her shoulder. They stood like that for a bit, before she pulled back.

“I’m here now. You’re not alone, and I’m not leaving you. Tell me everything.”

-

Over the next few weeks Cleo’s feelings had completely changed. From an apathic friend who couldn’t bring herself to care about things Reid had to say, she switched to a diligent friend who dropped other appointments if he called her for her help, cleaned his apartment, kept an eye on him and made sure he ate; she did everything within her power to be there for him and prove that she could be the friend he deserved and needed.

It was only on a day where she was certain he’d manage without her for a bit, as JJ and Garcia had agreed to keep an eye on him and take him to a fun place for a bit of distraction, that she finally accepted an invitation by Finn to come hang out and have a chat.

He stood outside of the BAU. He was pretty much her only option.

She asked if they could meet in a nearby park, waiting on him on a bench and giving him a cup of tea she bought for him as he arrived.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Finn asked, shifting himself so he was sitting sideways on the bench, his full attention on his friend. She tapped the to-go cup of tea she was holding, unsure of how to begin.

“You’ve… heard about our last case?”

Finn’s attitude immediately became more serious and careful, scooting a bit closer as he nodded.

“Garcia has told me a few things, but not much. I heard it was terrible for Spencer, though.”

“It is. I’ve been doing my best to be there for him, but I don’t know if that’s enough,” Cleo said, blowing on her tea but not drinking from it yet. Her emotions were swirling around in her chest again as she tried to turn it into a cohesive story. She looked at Finn, her gaze pleading for help.

“So… You’re being his friend? That’s good, right?”

“Well… A few days after the whole thing, I had a nightmare. About the unsub of the last case. She… She was holding me prisoner, claiming things like… that she… had cleared the way for me,” Cleo said, hoping that Finn wasn’t going to find her crazy or insensitive.

“In my dream she kept going on and on about how both her and me were jealous of Maeve, and how that meant I was more like her than I want to be, and-“

“You were jealous of Maeve?”

“… A little,” Cleo admitted, clutching at her cup as her hands trembled.

“I’m scared, Finn. I’m scared of being capable of turning out like Diane. She… she stalked Maeve because she got rejected. What if.. What if I get rejected, and what if that rejection is one too many and turns me into her?! Turns me into someone obsessed with revenge and hurting others and all because I’m scared of being alone, of being left behind, Finn, I don’t want to turn out like-“

“Okay, Cleo, Cleo, breathe,” Finn hushed, taking her hands to stop them from shaking and spilling tea into her lap.

“Okay, so, when you think of Spencer, right now. What is the first thing coming into your mind?”

“I couldn’t stop Diane from hurting him.”

“Okay. And the second?”

“I have to be there for him as he tries to put himself back together.”

“And the third?”

“I don’t ever want to see him hurt like this ever again- Why are you asking me this?”

Finn just gave a careful smile, taking the cup of tea from her and setting it down on the ground so she couldn’t spill it over her lap. He took a moment to think as to how best explain his conclusion to the things Cleo had been telling him.

“What Garcia did tell me included that this Diane was a revengeful stalker, right?” he looked at Cleo as she nodded.

“I asked you what came to your mind because clearly, those are not revengeful thoughts. You’re upset at what happened, but I haven’t heard you say a word about wanting to make anyone pay for what they did.”

“But Diane is-“

“I know. Cleo, you are nothing like Diane. You have two things she didn’t. Mercy, and generosity. You have the mercy to know that revenge isn’t going to solve anything. And you had the generosity, despite feeling a bit jealous of Maeve, to let Spencer have something that made him happy even though it didn’t include you. You aren’t just nothing like Diane, you were far more mature than she ever could be. You were a better person than her. You are a better person than her, and your devotion to making sure Reid is okay now shows that. You’re fine. You’ll be fine.”

Cleo let the words seep in, having forgotten about her tea that had gone cold by now. To talk to someone about this and not feel judged by his words did lift her spirits and she looked at Finn with a grateful smile painted on her face.

She took her phone as it went off, frowning a little as she saw Spencers name. She held up her hand at Finn, gesturing for him to be quiet for a moment so she could answer.

“Hi, Reid. Something wrong? Oh. No, that’s fine. No, you’re not interrupting. I’ll be there to pick you up in about… uhm, fifteen minutes. Okay? Of course. Bye.”

Finn looked at her for a moment as she thought, turning to him and giving him a small smile.

“Ah, he asked if I could pick him up and stay with him for tonight. Nights are still difficult for him, and he knows I understand why- less distractions and stuff. Thank you, Finn. I needed this. I’ve got to go, but I’ll talk to you later.”

“No problem. Talk to you later!”

About an hour later Cleo had brought Spencer to his apartment, immediately doing some cleaning as her talk with Finn had still left a few traces of nervousness; and the cleaning helped. Despite him not feeling up to eating much, she still convinced him to have a light soup as opposed to not eating anything at all before going to sleep.

Not exactly tired herself, she lingered around the living room, picking up small bits and pieces of things to clean them up and keep herself occupied. Sleeping on the couch later seemed like a good plan.

-

“Take your gun and vest off. Now come in alone.”

Spencer obeyed the command as fast as he could, not even listening to Morgan’s protest as he entered the building. A voice in the back of his mind wondered why he wasn’t being commanded to wear the blindfold and why Diane wasn’t there with a gun to the back of his head forcing him further into the building.

“Maeve!”

He found her, already on the floor in a pool of her own blood, his heart breaking once again at the sight as he dropped to his knees next to her body. As tears filled his eyes, he stood up in anger, pacing down to the room in the back to confront Diane. She stood there, gun loosely in her hand as if debating to shoot something out of his sight.

“Oh, you thought this was about Maeve? Well, as you see, not much left to save there, huh?” she asked, sounding rather bored until her gaze shot up at Reid, a terrifyingly ice cold look in her eyes.

“When were you going to tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“Who you’re really here for, this time? You lied to her as much as you lied to me, didn’t you?”

“What on earth are you talking about?!”

Diane looked over to a spot in the darkness, and Reid almost didn’t dare to turn his head. She glanced back at him for a second, before looking at the spot again. There was no way around it, he had to look; and when he did he was sure his heart stopped from the mere shock. Tied to the chair where Maeve once had been, it was…

“Cleo?”

She looked up at him, fear written all over her face as Reid felt his jaw drop alongside his heart. Diane was so set on destroying him, she had even gotten to Cleo? How, when?! He turned back to Diane, who still looked bored but with a hint of irritation.

“Leave her out of this. You have what you want.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s not about what I want, but what you made me do! You lied to Maeve about her, didn’t you? You never even told Maeve about her! No, I had to find out about her all by myself. When were you going to tell Maeve, huh, about your second lover?”

“Cleo is my friend. She has nothing to do with this,” Spencer pleaded, trying to make Diane listen to reason, like he had so many nights before. She just huffed, strutting over to Cleo as Spencer was unable to move even a step forward.

“Please,” he whimpered, tears filling his eyes as Diane carelessly cocked the gun and held in to Cleo’s temple with a disapproving noise.

“And how about the other way around? Did Cleo know about Maeve?”

“Yes. I didn’t tell her right away, and I regret that. I should have been honest with her; she deserved to know the truth.”

“Did she now?” Diane asked, shifting her weight back and leaving Cleo alone for the moment being. She looked at Spencer with nothing but pure contempt as he struggled to try and move forward. She just scoffed.

“She’s not exactly been a good friend, huh? When you told her about Maeve?”

“What are you even talking about right now?”

“You know, for a genius you’re pretty stupid. Whatever. I’m bored with this,” she suddenly decided, strutting away and slamming the door shut behind her as Spencer watched her leave. He whisked back to face Cleo, still trying to get to her.

“Please, Spencer,” she cried, looking up at him. “Help me.”

Before he could even answer her, the lights turned off, leaving him in nothing but pitch black darkness with her voice calling out to him, begging for his help. When a bit of light came back in, he found himself in the deep corridors where Cleo had been held captive once by Gareth Brooks.

He immediately panicked. Gareth and Diane were working together? Why?! And where had they taken Cleo?!

He ran down one of the hallways, listening for her voice like he had when he figured out Gareth had a system of tubes mimicking a brazen bull.

“Cleo!” He cried out when he heard nothing, taking in a breath when he heard a call for help. He ran back, following another path where her voice was coming from. He was taking twists and turns until there was nothing but a long hallway with a door at the end, where her voice was still calling his name.

“Cleo!” He called back, rushing in only to see Diane standing there, holding a gun to the back of Cleo’s head while a sadistic grin spread over her face. She tilted her head, slowly clicking the safety handle of the gun as Spencer stood frozen in fear. No, please, anything but that.

“Time’s up.”

“No!” he yelled at the same time as the gun went off in his nightmare, flinging himself forward as the shock had woken him. He was suddenly very aware that he was in his bedroom, but that didn’t lessen the impact of the dream as he desperately tried to catch his breath; had he actually been running all that time? It almost felt like it. “Spencer!”

A worried, but gentle and soft voice next to him made him look to her. He took a deep breath, reaching a shaking hand out to Cleo who watched him with concern. He placed his hand against her cheek; needing the touch to realize she was actually there and the other scenario had been a dream. Something wet dripped down on his other hand, and he moved to wipe away his tears.

He moved forward, pulling Cleo into a tight hug she hadn’t expected. Making a small noise of confusion as she was grabbed like that, Cleo suddenly noticed that she had always underestimated the strength in Reid’s arms. The way he was holding her now felt like a death grip, and she carefully pulled her arms up and stuck out her elbows to create some wiggle room and space for herself.

He noticed, letting her go and wrapping his arms around himself as he cried.

“Spence…” she said carefully, moving closer to him.

“You were calling my name, so I came to check on you. What-“ she cut herself off, her heart breaking as he hid his face in his arms. She couldn’t bear to stand it, wrapping her arms around him and gently pulling him closer, allowing him to cry on his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me, Cleo.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, Spence,” she said, repeating it over and over again as a reply to his mantra.

“I’m not leaving. I promise.”

[anne-wentworth]

Hi!! I’ve had this idea in my mind for a while and I was wondering if you could write it? Harvey takes Donna to Paris to celebrate something, you can decide what, but the truth is he knows how much she loves the city and wants to propose to her there. Thanks!!

Not exactly what you asked for but I really hope you still like it.

Ours

Read on ao3

Donna walked into the room, hair still damp from her shower. She ran the towel through it as she made her way over to the bed. Harvey scooted over a little to give her some more space as she plopped down.

He stared at her while she dried her hair, the affection rising in his chest warring with the guilt pooled in his stomach.

“I’m sorry that you have to spend your birthday like this,” he apologized for what must have been the millionth time.

Donna looked up, shooting him a glare filled with exasperation.

“How many times have I told you that it’s fine?”

He shrugged, knowing that she meant it but unable to stop himself from feeling bad. Or tamper his own disappointment.

They were supposed to be in Paris by now.

Harvey had surprised Donna weeks ago with two tickets. Their flight was scheduled early in the morning on the day before her birthday. However, while he was still planning, he had called Marcus for some advice, knowing that he had taken his wife to Paris a few years ago for a romantic getaway. And his brother suggested, although with some force, that he and Donna come up and spend some time with him and the rest of his family. Before he could automatically decline, Marcus pointed out that he hardly saw him due to the fact that he never took a vacation, attempting to guilt trip him the way he used to when they were kids. But with Donna’s encouragement, Harvey had been trying to mend his relationship with his mother and visiting his brother did sound nice. So he had thrown the idea out to Donna, even before telling her about Paris, and his girlfriend had been nothing short of delighted at the chance to get to know his family better.

Thus, they drove up to Boston at the beginning of the week.

Everything had been going spectacularly. His mother and nieces had instantly fallen in love with Donna. And more than once Harvey found himself watching her play with the girls, the sight tugging on his heartstrings as he envisioned a similar future for them both with children of their own one day.

Marcus had caught him once, a smirk on his face as he teased Harvey about being whipped. The hypocrisy of such a statement was mind boggling considering that Marcus would do just about anything Katie asked, especially if it made her smile. But when Harvey voiced this out loud Marcus just shrugged, a proud expression on his face.

The Specter men were weak when their hearts had been stolen. Neither brother cared one bit though.

On the day before they were supposed to fly out however, Lily had a heart attack.

It wasn’t anything too serious but she would need to remain in the hospital for a few days. Donna insisted that they cancel their trip and Harvey also didn’t feel comfortable leaving his mother when she was in such a state. So despite Lily’s arguments that she was fine and they should go, the couple remained.

And instead of spending Donna’s birthday in Le Meurice, they were in Marcus’ guest room.

Climbing further into bed, Donna sprawled out next to him, her head resting on his chest.

“Besides,” she said, snuggling up against him. “As long as I’m spending my birthday with you, I’m happy.”

Her words sent a surge of sunlight throughout his veins, the warmth seeping into his system and painting him in gold.

“And you tell me I’m the sappy one,” he replied teasingly.

She playfully slapped him on his arm and a burst of laughter escaped from his throat. A grin was written on her own features and as she stared at him like he was the only person on the planet, everything in Harvey went quiet.

Donna would never stop feeling like home.

Because she was his home.

The thought wrapped itself around his heart as the ring he bought her burned a hole in his pocket.

There was another reason he had been so hell bent on Paris.

He was going to propose.

Harvey took the ring out of the suitcase again earlier, looking at it again before finally shoving it in his pocket.

He hadn’t worked out when he was going to pop the question now that their plans had been squashed but as he lay there with Donna in his arms, he couldn’t help but think that there was no time like the present. He already wasted enough years by being an ass and refusing to admit that he was in love with her. He wasn’t going to wait any longer.

“There’s another reason I wanted to go to Paris,” he said softly.

Donna looked at him questioningly as he untangled himself from her and got out of bed.

As he dropped down on one knee however, pulling out the ring box, her confused expression shifted as her eyes bulged and her jaw fell to the floor.

His heart began to race as he stared at her, unsure of what to say. He didn’t prepare anything and right then all of his thoughts were a jumble in his brain.

“Donna,” he started, the two syllables stitched together with adoration. “I love you. You’re my everything. You’re the love of my life and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up next to you every morning and go to sleep with you in my arms every night. I want the good times and the bad times with you. Because Donna you’re it for me. And I’m happiest when I’m by your side. So will you please make me the happiest man in the world, now and forever? Will you marry me?”

His vision was blurred as the universe held its breath because no answer had ever been as important as this.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she grinned from ear to ear. “Yes Harvey, yes.”

All of a sudden she was in his arms and they were tumbling to the bed, a messy heap of giggles and love as their mouths clashed together. Every cell in his body sang while fireworks exploded in his chest, the sounds melding together in the most beautiful harmony. Harvey could taste the stars on Donna’s lips as he kissed her with everything he had, unraveling in her fingers. He was going to burst from the joy of it all.

“Can I put the ring on your finger?” he asked when they pulled apart.

“Oh! Yeah,” Donna said as if she had forgotten all about it.

Harvey smiled as he slid the object on her finger and it found its new home.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, staring at the way the diamonds shimmered in the light.

He had spent hours searching for a ring and in the end, settled on one with a plain band that had a rather sizable, but still not overly large diamond in the center that was surrounded by smaller stones. It was eighteen carats of beauty and hearing that she liked it made his heart swell.

“So this is why you’ve been so disappointed about our trip getting cancelled,” she said, turning her attention back to him.

“Yeah,” he responded, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

Donna gazed at him in wonder as she shook her head.

“Harvey you could have proposed to me in a dumpster and I would have said yes.”

Sparks danced in his very soul.

“I know. But you deserve the best.”

“I already have the best,” she smiled before pressing her lips against his.

And so, tangled together in Harvey’s little brother’s guest bedroom, the couple found their own version of Paris in the arms of each other.

Donna moaned as she bit into her sandwich. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her head thrown back a little.

Harvey was pretty sure she was having some kind of religious experience.

Six months after their botched plans, they finally made it to Paris.

When Harvey suggested they go to Paris for their honeymoon, Donna lit up like Christmas and so that was that.

Today, they were visiting the Louvre. Donna was a ball of excitement the whole morning as she rambled on about various pieces of art she couldn’t wait to see. While Harvey was interested, his level of enthusiasm couldn’t match Donna’s.

After all, he already married the most beautiful artwork that existed.

“This is so good!” she exclaimed, her mouth stuffed.

“I can see that,” he replied with amusement.

Donna rolled her eyes in response and he grinned. That familiar wave of happiness that appeared whenever he was with Donna washed over him. He would drown in the feeling if he could.

The little cafe they were in bustled with people but she was the only person he saw.

She was the only one who mattered.

“Can you please pass me a napkin Mrs. Paulsen Specter?” he inquired, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

After insisting that she wasn’t going to change her name, in the end, she decided to hyphenate.

Harvey would have been happy even if she had kept her name but he admitted that Paulsen Specter had a certain ring to it that made butterflies flutter about in his stomach.

“You’re never going to get tired of saying that are you?” Donna asked, wearing an amused smile of her own.

“Never.”

“Here you go my husband,” she said, handing him a napkin as her own eyes shined.

Harvey’s grin only widened at her words.

He wasn’t the only one floating on air.

“You’re never going to get tired of saying that are you?” he was the one to ask this time.

“Never.”

They were idiots in love, making eyes at each other from across the table.

“I love you,” he said suddenly simply because he could.

Because he went more than thirteen years keeping those three words bottled up inside him.

“I love you too,” she replied tenderly.

Paris was the most romantic city in the world, constantly filled with lovers from every corner of the earth. But it had been built for Donna and Harvey.

Sitting in a small cafe on the edge of the street, they made it theirs. Just like they did with everything else.