#to ‘not washing my mugs’ (which weren’t mine) to ‘noise’ (YOU’RE one to talk miss ‘why not rearrange furniture at 3am’)

[fingertipsmp3]

Going to play the sims high, will report back

[elles-writing]

When the worlds collide - Kili x reader

gif not mine

Pairing: Kili x reader

Requested: No

warnings: scared reader

A/N: Sooo, a new series!! Inspired by this series (Out of Goodwill) by @bluebellhairpin​. I hope ya’ll going to like it! I am writting a lot for Kili, I think he deserves more attention.

message me if you want to be added to taglist!!

feedback highly appreciated!!

masterlist   part two  part three 

tags: @moony-artnstuff​

 You should’ve known better. Better than to just watch Coraline in TV during a heavy rain.

You were in your house alone, sick with cold for past few days, and now really, really scared. It was a bad idea to watch that movie. You hated anything horror-related, and you didn’t even counted that time when you thought that some boyfriend or even any of your friends would come handy right now.

A sharp lightning crossed the sky and heavy thunder shaked you a bit. You screamed and jumped up.

Maybe I should turn the TV off. I’ve had enough, you thought.

But you knew you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.

You got up when an add break was there, turned on a few other lights, so you would find your way to kitchen, and took your mug with you to make another tea.

When your water was boiling, you were about to fill that mug with teabag, but a weird noise upstairs cought your attention. You shook it off when it stopped.

It was maybe some wind.

You looked outside and noticed that it almost stopped raining. You sighed by relief and opened your back doors and stepped out in your backyard.

It wasn’t too long before it started raining a lot again, so you quickly made your way inside.

A weird noises from your backyard and upstairs cought your attention. It was as if someone was walking here, and you were sure you noticed a few shadows outside. You decided to take a look at it, even if you were scared. So you took your phone to call the police if emergency, putted it safely to your pocket, and a baseball bat.

You’ve decided to look upstairs, since you locked your back doors, so you were feeling a bit more safe.

You were quietly tip toing upstairs, and furrowed your brows when you’ve noticed voices, and then recognized what they were saying.

“...not sure how we ended up here...”

“...stop doing that...”

You covered your mouth with one hand. You couldn’t belive that. No. You ears and mind had to be playing a tricks on you.

They sounded exactely like Balin and Thranduil.

You followed their voices. They were in one of your guest rooms. You peeked inside and almost gasped. For the lack of light you couldn’t really see how many of them was there, but they were at least three. One of them turned around and let out a gasp. Others turned to you and you firmly clunched the bat in your hands.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” You said and one of them came a bit closer.

“We-we mean no harm to you, we’re sorry miss we scared you, but we have no idea how we got in here.” You gasped when Bilbo’s voice told you all of that. 

“That’s impossible!” You cried out. Your bat fell down to the ground and you quickly switched on the light. There was a groaning when the light hit their eyes, and you quickly recognized Balin, Bilbo, Thranduil, Legolas, Dwalin, Bard and Gandalf.

You got out and runned away. You tried to calm down.

It’s nothing, Y/N. You’ve watched that movie ealier today. It’s just a fever, nothing else- Your thoughts have been interrupted when Bilbo’s voice came to your ears.

“Miss, we’re sorry if we scared you, are-are you okay?” He looked at you, worried. You carefully touched his hair and face.

“You-you’re...real.” You whispered. He flinched a bit.

“Well, yes, of course I am, well, I can imagine you are in shock, uhm...would you like to sit down?” He offered as if it would be you who was the visitor.

„I-I think better yes, thank you.“ You carefully sat down, closing your eyes and placing your index fingers on your temples. A loud knock made you jump up and open up your eyes. It came from your back door.

You carefully went there and overheard a voices you’d recognized immediatelly.

„...maybe we should just barge in, you know, it’s locked anyway.“ Kili.

„Perhaps you’re right,“ suggested another voice. Fili. You unlocked the door and opened them up only for you to see three dwarves a bit shorter than you, soaking wet. You opened the doors. You voice was chatched in your throat. You couldn’t believe what was happening.

„Come in.“ They looked at each other suspiciously, and you turned around to go to sit somewhere, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself if you’d fell uncoucious. Your legs were giving up pretty quickly.

„Miss-?“ Bard noticed your pale face and helped you to get onto the couch. Bilbo handed you your mug with a hot tea and you gratefully smiled at him. You sipped a bit and noticed how your hands were shaking and you were beginning to sweat. You needed to calm down.

„You have it nice here, I really like it-miss, are you alright?“ Kili said when he noticed that you were trying to stand, but almost fell down back. You creaked out a weak smile.

„It-it’s okay, Kili. It’s just-I am a bit dizzy-Bilbo, I can stand on my own,“ You mourmured when the hobbit took your arm to help you stand. You looked up and noticed all of them were quiet and Kili’s mouth and eyes were wide open, Bilbo’s face held also a huge surprise. You muttered under your breath,

„Oh shit.“ You straightened you back and tried your best not to get scared by Dwalin and Thorin, both glaring at you. Instead, you looked over to Gandalf and Balin.

„I-I think we will go to kitchen and-talk about this.“ You looked to still stunned Kili, whom Fili nudged to ribs so he would close his mouth, and Thorin.

„I’ll bring you some dry clothes. Just...don’t move.“ You murmed and sneaked to your dad’s closet to get some clothes that would fit them. He would always forget some of them here when he needed to wash them in the washing mashine.

You found only two shirts, with trousers there was a better situation – you owned a men’s jeans in size that would fit you plus some larger ones for tucking swaters in them and men trousers, because you liked their silhouette and wore them sometimes. You looked through your closet and found a few oversized t-shirts, mostly black and dark blue. You quickly gathered them and made your way down the stairs.

You came back and noticed they were walking around and looking at everything. Bilbo and Gandalf were trying to stop them (Bilbo felt very sorry for you, because he knew how it felt like), the Mirkwood elves sitting on the couch and flipping through your books. You tried to find the Durins, and it was not that hard. You had to follow the wet paths they left. You sighed in relief and you found them in the kitchen, unsurprisingly.

„Hey, you three!“ They all turned to you. You sighed and handed the clothes to the Durins.

„Go and change. Don’t protest, it’s comfortable and dry. Then come back here.“ You noticed the untrust in Thorin’s eyes and sighed.

„You have to believe me. Just-please-go and change. I’ll show you where.“ Thorin looked like he wanted to argue, but something in your voice made him to only nod and follow you with his nephews.

While they were changing in the bathroom, you took a few chairs to your table, which was quite big. You sat into the head of the table with your tea, slowly sipping the almost cold liquid, and watching them. You gave them some food, but knowing how much dwarves could eat, you weren’t quite sure if it was a good idea.

When the Durins came back, Kili was curious and wanted to know where you knew his name from. He sat by your left and you had to admit, all of them three looked good in jeans and a shirt and t-shirts. His brother sat down next to him and Thorin, eyeing Thranduil, sat down next to his older nephew and Dwalin. You looked to your left, where was sitting Bilbo, then there was Balin, Legolas, Bard and Thranduil. Opposite to Thranduil has seated down Gandalf, so if some argument would come up, he’d be there to calm them down. You smiled at him and stood up.

„Well, I don’t exactely know how to start this...unexpected meeting.“ You started and all eyes were on you. You blushed when you noticed Kili’s intense gaze.

„I am aware you don’t know how did you got in here, so I-I want to help you to find your way home.“ You started playing with your hands nervously and looked over all of them. They looked exactely like in the movies, only their clothes looked more worn and wrinkled than in the movies. You were thinking if you should tell them or not that they were characters from the book and in the movies. It would be easier to explain, maybe even for them of how did they came to your world, you thought.

„Do you know us? I mean, you obviously know me and Master Baggins,“ Kili said and looked at you. You slightely blushed under his curious gaze.

„I don’t know how to explain it,“ you sighed.

„It’s quite complicated, but yes, I know all of you and more from your world.“ You said and someone gasped in surprise. Only Gandalf looked not that surprised.

„How do we know it’s true?“ Dwalin said and you shivered. He was always scaring you.

„For example, I know that you are Dwalin, then there’s Thorin, Fili, Kili, Thranduil, Legolas, Balin, Bard, Bilbo and Gandalf. In your world, there, for example, I know about Lord Elrond, Bofur, Gloin, Gimli, Lindir-“ You stopped. You realized you didn’t knew in which part of book, or even series they were. Dwalin looked over to Kili and snorted.

„What about your elf maid, huh?“ You started laughing with the dwarves and even Gandalf looked he was having a good time, when you noticed Kili’s face and ears reddening and his gaze quickly averted to table. You stopped laughing, but there was still a smile on your face, when you carefully touched his shoulder. He sleepishly and shyly looked up to you and you offered him a smile.

„I’m sorry, Kee. But it’s funny.“ A thought came to you. You didn’t knew if it was a good idea, but you decided it would be good to perhaps give it a try.

„Well, I think that this...will perhaps explain why do I know all of you.“

[psychadelickate]

NCIS - Gibbs: New Year’s Eve

Imagine: New Year’s Eve Word Count: 1733 Fandom: NCIS Pairing: Gibbs x Reader Gif: Not Mine Requested: Prompt: New Year’s Eve

“Gibbs would never agree to it,” McGee says. Yes, Gibbs has apparently softened in the last few years, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay with having more than four people in his house at a time, more so when he’s there as well. “Oh, come on McGee, how bad can it really be?” you’d asked. The look he shared with Bishop and Torres was more than you needed to know. “Fine, if you’re so sure he’s not going to blow a gasket, go ahead and plan it,” he tells you. “Then again he does seem more into you than he does on the rest of the team,” Jimmy adds and you turn to glare at him. Yes, Gibbs hasn’t head slapped you yet, or reamed you out as he did the others at times, but giving you more leeway… you weren’t sure. “You’re crazy,” you reply. There’s no way Gibbs is interested in you. Sure, you flirt and joke around, but there has never been a time where you’d thought it would go beyond that. “Besided, he has Rule 12. Remember?” Still, there was nothing lost in trying and so you’d went and planned the dinner anyway… reeling in Palmer and Kasie as well. For all his protesting and arguing, you’re almost sure Gibbs has enjoyed hosting New Year’s dinner at his home this year. Normally, Dr Mallard would host, but you had decided to make a change this year. Gibbs had looked murderously at you when you’d come up with the idea, but you’d ignored him and went ahead anyway. The worst he could do was stay in his basement the entire evening.

You’d organised everything with the rest of the team with each of them bringing a dish or two, whatever they fancied. There were no rules, though you were thankful when Jack had offered to make the turkey. You’d decided to stick with making dessert, it was what you were good at. Granted, you weren’t bad at cooking, but you didn’t want to risk it. Gibbs had wondered just how everyone would fit in the small area, but you assured him there was enough space for the entire team. You’d procured a round table, with chairs, that seated twelve and actually fitted in Gibb’s dining room space, and you’d found a rotating serving board that would make it easier for everyone to help themselves. Soon enough there were sounds of screeching and shrieking laughter. Victoria, Morgan and John McGee Jr were having the time of their lives. Yes, their parents were horrified at their behaviour, but kids were kids and they weren’t breaking things, they were merely having fun. You did remember the safety gates to cordon off the staircases though and the fireplace. Dinner had been lively and fun with everything being grateful for everything they had. Sure, it wasn’t their own families, but this dysfunctional one worked for some odd reason. Gibbs’ house had been transformed at evening; from the quietest, darkest house on the street to one where warm soft light and gentle laughter had escaped through the windows. The roaring fire in the fireplace had added to the cosiness of an intimate family dinner. Jack had been the first to start clearing up, informing everyone she had no intention of spending the countdown wiping and packing dishes. There was certainly more to life than that! “You really need to get a dishwasher, Gibbs,” Jack informs him though he simply shakes his head. “Not happenin,” he responds. “Well if you did, (Y/N) wouldn’t have to be using elbow grease to wash everything,” Jack continues. “I’m almost done, Jack. Just wiping down the counters,” you inform her. “Well in that case, I’m going to get a drink and join the rest of the team on the porch,” she says as she grabs a mug filled with one-part scotch and two rocks. You hear the click of the closing door a few seconds later. By the time you’re done with the counters and sink Gibbs is leaning against the doorframe, shirtsleeves folded halfway up his forearm. You have to remember to breathe… After all the noise and talking, Gibb’s house seems uncharacteristically quiet now, save for the iPod and speakers in the corner softly playing Christmas songs. “All done,” you tell him and turns to look at you. You see something flit in his eyes, but its too quick to call him on it. “(Y/N),” he says, and you meet his gaze. “Thanks.” You frown at his words. He has no reason to be thanking you, if anything, you should be thanking him for allowing you to use his home to entertain the team. “Gibbs -,” you start, but he stops you as takes a step closer to you. “No (Y/N), my house hasn’t felt like a home in years and this today… Thank you.” “Well there was only two ways this would go. You could have spent the evening holed up alone in your basement, or you could’ve joined us. I’m glad you chose to join us,” you tell him. “I know people don’t do New Year gifts, but I got you something, just to say thanks for allowing us to use your home tonight. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it, but I thought it was an apt gift for you.” You can see he wants to protest but you don’t let him, instead holding the bag out for him to take. “Aren’t you going to open it?” you ask, your enthusiasm bubbling out. He shrugs his shoulders and then proceeds to open it. There’s a fair amount of tissue paper, light blue, which he places on the counter and proceeds to pull out the gift from the bag. It’s a plush toy. A teddy bear, to be exact. A medium sized, soft, plush, white teddy bear, clothed in a red sweater, with the Eagle, Globe and Anchor emblems on it.  You’d also managed to get it personalised with Gibb’s name on the back of the sweater. It’s a marine bear… You’d thought of him as soon as you’d seen it. Sure, he was gruff and stoic on the outside, but once you got to know him, he was a total softie on the inside… A genuine laugh escapes him. “I’ll take that as approval,” you tell him. “Yeah,” he says, still examining the bear. “I’m glad you like it.” He straightens from the doorframe and takes a step closer to you. “Thank You, (Y/N),” he says again, this time with a kiss to your cheek. “Happy New Year, Gibbs,” you say in reply. He’s cheek is still pressed against yours, neither of you ready to move. You breathe him in. He smells like wood and Cool Water, and something essentially Gibbs. And then you feel his hands on your back, pulling you into him. You don’t resist. You know this is a turning point in your relationship with him. Yes, you’ve flirted, but he’d never asked you out, officially. But this… this feels completely different. “That’s not how you give a New Year’s Kiss,” he deadpans, lazy smirk gracing his mouth. Your heart starts racing… You feel him move against you, his cheek brushing yours until his mouth is almost touching yours, just a few millimetres separating you. He whispers your name and you look up at him, giving him permission to kiss you. He’s about to do so when you hear McGee calling out for the two of you. “Hey guys, the countdown’s started, you’re going to miss the fireworks,” he says and the moment is broken. Gibbs is the first to break away and you internally cuss at the disruption. “Don’t wanna miss the fireworks,” you tell Gibbs as you grab a coffee mug and head outside, Gibbs two steps behind you. Everyone’s out on the porch, kids included, and you come to a stop at the wooden railing. The countdown is at six already. You feel heat behind you and then a body come into contact with your back. Five… You don’t need to check who it is, you’re already intimately aware of Gibbs’ scent. Sawdust, and something innately Gibbs and for some odd reason Cool Water perfume; even though he claims not to use the stuff. Four… He places a hand on your hip, warm and heavy and you know nothing is going to be the same after this. Three… You’re so surprised at his next action that you lose focus of everything else but the feeling of him placing open mouthed kisses on your neck. Your hands squeeze into fists. Two… “Gibbs,” you whisper when the world comes exploding back, wanting to ask him if he’s sure about this. One… You don’t get the chance to because the countdown has stopped and the ball has dropped and everyone’s cheering and the next thing you feel his Gibb’s mouth pressed to yours, his lips brushing gently over yours, waiting for you to give him access. You do. And then he’s deepening the kiss, putting his everything into it. It’s hard and fiery and passionate and you really can’t get enough of him. You pull him closer to you, one hand on the back of his neck making sure he can’t pull away from you while the other cards through his hair. You don’t want to stop kissing this man… And then the need for oxygen overrides everything, and you pull away from him, but he doesn’t let you go. He allows you just enough space to note that he’s panting, his pupils are blown and his cheeks tinged pink with the cold. He keeps you in his space and as soon as he gets some semblance of his breath back, kisses you again. This time it’s hot and heady and it makes your toes curl, and you cling to him afraid if you let go, you’ll fall, your knees weakened by the intensity of his kiss. “That’s how you do a new year kiss,” Gibbs tells you and this time you’re the one that can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Nick looks confused, Jack, Bishop and McGee less so, but Jimmy, Jimmy is the one to voice it. “Took you long enough, Agent Gibbs,” he says and Gibbs fixes the medical examiner with a glare, but it doesn’t scare Jimmy. Not tonight when there’s promise of new things to come.

tag list: @cameronmonaghantrashaf​ @pinturicchio13​ @diaryofafan17​ @iwritetoavoidmyproblems​ @ladyzombiielove​ @stanathanxoox​ @mahc1562​ @evy-lyn​ @anycsirp​ @kitty-kat2018 @mackenziepart2 @kittenlittle24​ @manicmarsupial​ @fullmoonshadowwrites​ @nocturnalherb16​ @countrygirl17​a 

If you’d like to be tagged, let me know.  Happy New Years to everyone out there, Hope this year brings you all you want and need

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Family Matters (Zelda Spellman/Reader) - Part 4

Synopsis: Your first morning in the Spellman house could have been smoother.

Words:1537

Warnings: none

AN: So I’m about to go away for a week on holiday with some friends. I’ll try to keep updating regularly but it may have to wait until I’m home again. If you’d like to be tagged in this series just drop me a message.

**GIF not mine**

Waking up in the huge bed was a luxury you weren’t quite sure how to approach. The bed was comfortable, the room lavish, the air warm. You lay in the bed, staring up at the canopy above you. You had no idea what was waiting for you downstairs. You didn’t know what Zelda had told the rest of the family about your new living arrangement. It made you want to continue hiding in your room.

A sharp knock sounded on your door. You sat up, wondering if you ignored it it would go away. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had such a good nights sleep and that was with all you’re tossing and turning. The knock sounded again. You sighed and sat up, crawling out of the bed.

Zelda was standing outside your door. She was fully dressed, completely put together, and you became acutely aware of your bed hair. You tried to smooth it down.

“May I come in?”

You held the  door open for her, hurriedly taking a step back to keep her from bumping into you. The same scent of wet dirt and smoke stroked across your skin. You held your breath, not needing to be distracted for the conversation to come.

“How did you sleep?” she asked, turning to watch you close the door.

“Well, thank you,” you replied, more hesitant than you would like.

“I have informed my sister of your circumstances and we have agreed to allow you to stay here,” she said, “Sabrina and Ambrose are aware you are here but I think it would be better to not talk about the reasons.”

“May I ask why?”

“There are some unpleasantries that need not be discussed over the breakfast table,” she replied.

“My living situation is not an unpleasantry,” you snapped then immediately flushed, “sorry.”

“I have opened my home to you. I will not accept insolence from my employee,” she snapped.

“I’m sorry Miss Spellman,” you said, looking down at your feet.

“I have already asked you to call me Zelda. I will not ask again. If you cannot follow simple instructions I may have to rethink your employment,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“And stop apologising.”

You looked up at the annoyance in her voice. She was looking at you, glaring at you, and you felt small and childlike. You hadn’t been admonished in a long time.

“Get dressed,” she said, “breakfast is on the table.”

She swept past you, leaving little more than the shame in your gut and the lingering scent of her cigarettes. You hurried into the bathroom connected to your room. You needed to wash the Zelda from your skin before you could face the rest of her family. No one made you as unsteady as much as she did.

Walking down the stairs felt different. Usually you were hurrying to answer the phone or greet a customer after looking for one of your employers. This time the house was quiet, the only noise coming from the kitchen. You smoothed down your skirt and took a deep breath.

Conversation paused as you entered the kitchen but was quickly took up again by Sabrina, smoothing over the moment of awkwardness. The table was really only able to accommodate four people so you hovered for a moment until Hilda stood up, offering you her chair.

“How did you sleep, dear?” she asked, pushing you down onto the seat while you considered declining the kindness. She was doing enough without giving you her seat as well.

“Really well, thank you,” you said, your voice quiet.

She placed a plate in front of you. You looked down at the bacon and eggs, wondering if you could avoid eating. Your stomach was in turmoil, sitting amongst the family. You listened to Sabrina argue with Zelda about school. Or at least you thought it was about school. It wasn’t easy to tell.

“How’d you find your bed?” Ambrose asked, leaning towards you.

“It’s very comfortable,” you replied, “and massive.”

“Yes, our guest bed are intended to fit many people,” he said to which you found you had no reply.

He went back to contemplating the contents of his mug. You hoped it was just tea or coffee but given his general demeanour over the weeks you’d known him you couldn’t be sure. He seemed to be as broken as you felt. Your heart went out to him. No one deserved to feel this way.

You scooped a forkful of eggs into your mouth, assuming it would be more rude to refuse any than to try and force down something. It was as delicious as everything else you’d ever tasted in this house, presumably due to the skilful hands of Hilda. You’d yet to see Zelda take to the stove in the few weeks you’d been working in the house. You took another forkful into your mouth, catching Hilda’s eye. You gave her a closed lip smile.

“You agree, right Luna?”

You blinked, looking over at Sabrina. She was looking at you expectantly. You looked to Zelda who was also watching you, assessing the answer you would give. You turned your head to Ambrose, who was pushing food around his plate, avoiding looking at anyone at the table.

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening,” you replied.

“That does not bode well for the rest of the day,” Zelda snipped.

“I’m not on the clock yet,” you snapped, “I shouldn’t be expected to be the perfect employee when I’m not working.”

“Someone is in a mood today,” Zelda said, disappearing behind her paper once again.

You let out a long breath, expecting to be chewed up and spit back out by Zelda. She’d already threatened to throw you out for attitude. This response was far too calm for what you’d come to expect from the matriarch of the Spellman family. And yet you still felt like a dismissed teenager.

You pushed your plate away from you, standing up. You gave Hilda a tight smile and walked out of the kitchen. You hurried up the stairs, back into your bedroom. You closed the door, leaning back against it and let out a sigh. You should have never come here.

A soft knock sounded on your door. You turned around, pulling it open. Sabrina was standing on your threshold, looking concerned.

“I’m sorry about Auntie Zee,” she said, “she can be a bit of a hardass.”

“She scares me,” you said, not voicing the fact that she held your life in her hands. If she threw you out now, if she fired you, you’d be dead. Literally.

“The rest of us won’t let her fire you,” she said, “we all love having you here.”

“You barely know me,” you said, shaking your head.

“You’re kind and you work hard and you seem to really care,” she said.

“I can’t lose this job, Sabrina,” you said.

“You won’t.”

She gave you a hug. You stiffened, not used to any kind of physical affection anymore. She gave you another squeeze and drew away, giving you a comforting smile.

“Hilda’s worried you didn’t eat breakfast,” she said, as a parting statement.

You watched her walk down the long hall. She disappeared around the corner, not looking back at you. You missed being that age, when things were simpler. You missed living in a house full of love and a family around you to support you. You missed not being filled with this kind of anxiety. You missed when every single one of your actions weren’t life or death.

“Oh, there you are, dear,” Hilda said, coming around the corner, “Zelda was looking for you.”

Anxiety clenched around your heart in a vice like grip and you were worried you might faint. You clutched the door frame, trying to keep yourself upright. Hilda rushed towards you, grabbing your elbow to steady you.

“Let’s sit you down.”

She led you back into your room, settling you on the bed. She pressed the back of her hand to your forehead. You pressed your hands to your stomach, trying to ease the pressure in your head and in your heart.

“You haven’t eaten enough, my dear,” Hilda said.

“What did Zelda want?” you asked.

“She only wanted to know where that handy diary of yours is,” Hilda replied, “she wanted to check on the meetings scheduled for today.”

The pressure loosened and you let out a sigh of relief. You hung your head, letting the relief wash over you. You weren’t about to be fired for your impertinence. You had to get a better grasp on your attitude, biting your tongue better. This wasn’t like it once was. You couldn’t say whatever was on your mind. More was at stake than an exasperated eye roll and a verbal telling off.

“I’ll get it for her right now,” you said with a smile.

“Are you sure, love? If you’re not feeling well I’m sure we could manage one day without you. After all, we managed for years before.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

You hopped off the bed, scurrying out of the room before Hilda could argue further. You would do better. You must do better.

You couldn’t afford to fail now.

Tags: @theenglishwizard​ @eyesofanangeltongueofadevil​ @hallospaceboyy​

[smallmediumproblems]

It was surprisingly easy to find a pet shop in the Arcade. The difficult part was finding the one they were looking for. Almost as soon as they’d left Spider Empire, they turned a corner to find a neat looking storefront with a sign that read Petland over the door. Nick headed straight for the entrance, but stopped when he heard Jon make an uncertain noise behind him.

“Not that one,” said Jon.

“Is it dangerous?” Nick asked. He took a preemptive step back from the store.

“Well, since none of you are allergic to cats, not especially,” said Jon, “But it won't have what you need.”

“Of course not,” Nick sighed. “Alright. Lead the way.”

They continued to wind through the halls of the Arcade apparently at random. Jon paused every now and then to get his bearings as the layout of the place changed, once or twice turning around completely with a frustrated little scowl. The longer they walked, the more pet stores they passed. Fish ‘n More had a tank that spanned the front of the store, and which, upon closer inspection, seemed to make up the entire interior as well. Static Man insisted that they stop at Too Many Legs to admire several six-legged golden retriever puppies pawing at the window. There was one store that had a gaudy assortment of crystals, medieval weapons, and gold coins littering the front display, under a sign that read DRAGONS! in a friendly cartoon font. To everyone’s dismay, it was closed.

“Should we be worried about this?” prompted Morgan as they passed a store labeled One Big Snake. “Maybe it’s trying to throw us off.”

“No, this is good,” Nick said. “I think it’s more like targeted advertising. We’ve already made a couple purchases, so the Arcade knows we’re not here to cause trouble. If it’s overheard what we’re looking for, it could be trying to help.”

“Boy, it sure is important that we get a frappucino for this ritual, huh Nicholas?” Static Man added loudly. A couple of turns later, a cozy-looking Starbucks appeared on their right.

“Considering the fact that it moved a whole city block to get here, I’d say that’s a pretty sound theory,” said Jon. “Mind you, that added a substantial detour to our walk.”

“Relaaax, drinks on me,” said Static Man, leading them inside.

“Do I want to know where you got money from?” Nick asked doubtfully. “Or where you’re keeping it?”

“It’s cool, Starbucks usually takes teeth,” said Static Man. “So, y’know. Ka-ching! Pop ‘em right out like a pez dispenser.” To demonstrate, he rummaged around in his face and pulled out a tooth with a small click. He held it out to Jon, who wished for the second time in his life that his career involved fewer people trying to hand him teeth.

Nick cornered Jon as they were waiting for their coffees. “Round two?” he suggested. Jon could taste the start of his statement already, a treacherous door and a maddening landscape behind it.

“You sound like you’re enjoying these as much as I am,” said Jon, settling in at one of the rickety tables.

Nick gave a short laugh as he sat across from him, then another more uncomfortable one as he mulled this over. “It’s weird, it almost feels familiar. You… feel familiar. Is that normal?”

“It’s certainly not good,” said Jon. “I don’t think it’s me so much as the Eye. You’ve probably stumbled across it before. I’m genuinely surprised you haven’t been caught up in one of the Fears by now. Mine in particular would be too easy for you to fall into, I think.”

Jon was struck with the sharp, warm sensation of being realized. He could feel Nick starting to put together that his rumpled blazer and secondhand mug weren’t just an affectation to make his supernatural nature seem human. That, if anything, the opposite was closer to the truth. Nick wanted to ask him how it had happened; whether it had crept up on him slowly, or if it was something he’d done to himself. Jon didn’t quite know how to explain that it had been both.

“So there’s more of these things,” Nick asked instead.

“Each one more terrible than the last,” said Jon. “That place belonged to one of them. I told you, spiders are a problem where I’m from.”

“And they’re all, what, fighting each other? Working together?” Nick pressed.

Jon laughed mirthlessly. “Depends on the person. Some of us are almost palatable. Others will tear your skin off just to say hello.”

Nick went very still for a moment. He seemed to come to some conclusion as to which kind Jon was. Jon was very aware of his eyes shifting across his scars. “Do you need help?” Nick asked gently.

“Probably.” Jon followed the statement with a very tired smile. “I can’t have it too bad if I’ve survived this long.”

“I mean it,” said Nick, “I don’t know if you’re trapped, or being blackmailed, or what, but whatever it is, I’m sure we can help. That’s kind of what we do.”

Jon didn’t need to look up at Morgan and Static Man to know what he was being offered. He wondered how many other people Nick had spirited away like this, with promises of freedom or adventure or just plain companionship. It didn’t take much effort for him to picture a scenario where he would have said yes. It wasn’t even too different from his current one.

“Thank you,” he said. “Really, I- You have no idea how many of my problems that would solve. But I have people I need to get back to. There’s someone I’d very much like to see again.”

Nick nodded. “I understand. Still, we’ve got two more stops- offer’s on the table if you change your mind.”

The Arcade had shifted again by the time they left, and Jon led them back in the direction they came from. To no one’s surprise, the shops had all changed as well, though they maintained the same ratio of pet stores.

“If this place is so intent on bringing you what you want,” said Jon, sloshing his macchiato around the flower mug. “That does raise the question of why you actually need me. I’m sure it would figure out where you need to go eventually.”

“Intent is what I’m worried about,” said Nick. “We haven’t had the best track record with sentient landscapes. And ‘eventually’ could take years. We did our research. Plenty of people come to shop in the Arcade. Not a lot of them get back out.”

“After we heard that this place would have what we needed, the first thing we did was try and figure out why so many people went missing,” Morgan chimed in. “I thought people were dying of starvation, but there’s no shortage of resources. None of the survivors talked about roving monsters, or rules you have to stick to to avoid being punished. By all accounts, it’s just an infinite maze of stores.”

“Maze being the operative word,” Jon realized aloud.

“It’s dead simple, when you think about it,” Morgan continued after a sip of her coffee. “It’ll bring you anything you could ask for in a shopping mall, except an exit.”

Jon stopped to concentrate on the layout in a moment of panic. “But it does have an exit. I know where it is.”

“And that’s why you’re rolling with the cool kids,” said Static Man, shooting Jon a finger-gun with his free, un-frappuccino’d hand. “The shops will come to us. We just need you to get us out of here when it’s time to leave. Plus, we can give you a makeover on the way out, right Nick?”

“That’s between you two,” said Nick. “Assuming we can find a JC Penny that accepts teeth. How close are we to this place?”

Jon turned to face the other side of the Arcade hall. “Here, actually,” he said. Across from them was a small storefront done up in pastel, with a display painted onto the front window that read Advanced Pets. His head buzzed with little details about the interior, a wash of comfortingly mundane facts. "It looks quite safe."

“Sick. Hey, you think there’s a Beginner’s Pets?” Static Man asked no one in particular as they crossed the hall. “Or maybe Simple Pets.”

“Band name,” Nick said immediately.

“Band na- dammit!” Morgan swore, half a second too late. Nick laughed, pulling out a cheap notebook and adding the phrase “Simple Pets” to a column under his name. There were matching columns for both Morgan and Static Man. Static Man’s was as long as the other two combined. Jon was struck with an image of Tim, Martin, and Sasha gathered in the Archive breakroom, joking about some piece of office drama over lunch. The sound of Sasha kicking her legs off the countertop she was perched on. Tim sitting backwards in a chair, tipping forward so it balanced on two legs, then back down to safety. Martin’s hands gesturing wildly, careless and mesmerizing.

“Everything alright?”

Jon blinked the memory away. Morgan and Static Man had already gone inside, and Nick was waiting for him in the doorway.

“It’s fine,” said Jon.

It was as fine as it was ever going to be.

The interior of the shop was an orderly mosaic of mint green and orange, soothing after the Arcade’s dim lighting. It was laid out more like a book store than a pet shop, with little alcoves lining the room and a few islands down the center aisle with clear plastic walls and no lids. The instrumental break of a motown song played distantly over the speakers. Most of the pets were recognizable; Morgan was hunched in front of a tank full of axolotls, watching them follow her finger as she traced it across the glass. The closest center island was a roomy enclosure of rabbits. Jon could make out guinea pigs and leopard geckos in the islands further back. As he drifted towards a stack of cat cages, he picked out a few specimens that were less familiar. The next alcove over had terrariums full of something that looked like a turtle with incredibly furry limbs. A section of the store towards the back was blocked off with thick velvet curtains, and had a standing sign in front that read Quiet area! Please do not disturb the ghosts. The music congealed into Patti LaBelle singing Danny Boy.

“You folks let me know if you want me to introduce you to anyone,” Jon heard from the middle of the store. He leaned around a metal rack of squeaky toys to see a late middle-aged woman wearing a pair of chunky plastic earrings and a romper that looked like it had been made from a bowling alley carpet. She was lounging against the register countertop, staring openly at Static Man. When he looked up at the sound of her voice, she gave him a coy smirk and pretended to be preoccupied with a ferret that was draped over her shoulders. This seemed to catch him off guard, but he quickly recovered, striking what Jon could only assume was supposed to be a casual pose next to an iguana enclosure. Jon shuddered.

“We’re looking to buy a pet rock,” said Nick.

The shopkeeper glanced between the four of them. When she looked at Jon, he noticed that her name was Nellie. “You all gonna share just the one?” she asked, the hint of a smile lingering in her voice.

“We’re not what you’d call a conventional household,” Nick replied.

Nellie bounced up from the countertop with a laugh. "Thank goodness! Those things give me the heebie-jeebies. What kind of rock are you interested in?”

“What kinds do you have?” Nick asked hesitantly. It seemed like the appropriate thing to say. Nellie led the party to an alcove lined with shelves, each one bearing at least a dozen rocks in all different shapes, sizes, treatments, and colorations. Most of them were wonky river rocks in varying shades of black and gray. A few towards the back of the shelves were glowing faintly. Some seemed quite valuable, including part of an amethyst geode and something that Jon identified as an absolutely massive uncut diamond. There was a little standing desk off to one side littered with googly eyes and Sharpie markers.

“Take a look around, they’re not shy,” said Nellie.

Nick looked between her and the rocks, and plucked a specimen from the nearest shelf. It was large and gray, with pockmarks that made it look volcanic. “I guess, this one?” he said.

“Hmmmm,” said Nellie. She scratched under the ferret’s chin and squinted at Nick suspiciously. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Ok,” said Nick, forcing a patient tone, “Which one would you suggest?”

Nellie shrugged. “It’s not my rock. But I do know a bad match when I see one. Pick one that speaks to you. These fellas are looking for a forever home, just like everyone in the store.” At this, she looked pointedly at Static Man, batting her eyelashes. Static Man did something horrifying with the multitudes of teeth that protruded from his face like shrapnel. Nellie smiled back.

“Right. Little help, guys?” Nick asked, turning to the others.

Jon tilted his head slightly at Nellie with a small, concerned frown. “Do you want me to…?”

Nick looked panicked. “Help me pick one out,” he clarified quickly. “Please.” The four of them went to work inspecting the rocks and presenting them to Nellie, progressively less and less sure of what they were looking for as each offering was dismissed. More accurately, three of them went through this process while Static Man flirted with her. Jon eventually found himself turning the same rock over and over in his hands, listening in idly on their conversation.

“You didn’t have anywhere to be today, right?” Morgan commented, reaching across him for a small black rock that was keening pleasantly.

“That’s a good question,” said Jon, half to himself. His watch - which he’d neglected to take off while he was dozing in the breakroom - read 5:17. Still a couple hours before anyone might notice he was gone. “Does time work the same way, here?”

Morgan made an unworried noise. “Who knows. That’s one hazard we don’t usually worry too much about. One of the perks of not having someplace to get back to.”

“Not… Not at all?” said Jon, “You just do this all the time?”

“Pretty much,” said Morgan. “We’re not homeless, we do crash on Nick’s couch whenever we need a day off. But mostly, yeah, we just do stuff like this.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Jon marveled.

“It can be,” said Morgan. “Better than being trapped in one place.”

Jon wasn’t sure what kind of expression his reaction had translated to, but whatever it was drew a long, sympathetic look from Morgan. “Mmmh,” she hummed gently. She set her rock down and leaned on a shelf. “You too?”

Jon paused. He nodded.

“You mentioned an archive,” said Morgan, “Is it just you, back home?”

“No,” said Jon, “No, I’ve got… well, not friends, exactly. I know, that sounds bad, it’s… Well, it kind of is. The Archive, not the people. They’re the only thing worth staying for.”

“Always are,” said Morgan.

“You were all alone, weren’t you?” Jon asked. The parts of his situation that Morgan found familiar were painting a clear, bleak picture of what she’d escaped to be here. The dark places in here eyes were filled with more long, quiet nights than she cared to count.

Morgan studied him with the same serious appraisal she’d been giving the rocks. “Watch out for that. I hope you find your way out. But until you do? Don’t be alone.”

They both turned their attention to the other side of the alcove, where Static Man had dragged Nick in as a reluctant wingman. Nick was desperately trying to focus on the rocks while still making the appropriate comments on whatever Static Man was saying.

“Even if you end up stuck with dorks like these,” Morgan said fondly.

She turned back to the shelves as Static Man continued recounting the time he and Nick had fought a tribe of cyborg motorcycle centaurs.

“And then I was like, ‘Hands off my friend, you gas-guzzling son of a bitch!’” he exclaimed, and grabbed Nick’s shoulder for emphasis.

“That still doesn’t make sense,” Nick complained, holding a rock with a vein of crystal through it up to the light. “They didn’t even use gas, they had biofuel. It’s the whole reason we were there, remember? Those bugs were eating all their crops.”

“It was a drought,” Jon corrected him. Nick and Static Man looked over in surprise. “The bugs were just there looking for water. The sonic generator you used to drive them away shook loose an underground spring that saved the plants. Sort of an adjacent solution, I suppose.”

Jon tensed, waiting for the inevitable backlash. Instead, Nick rounded on Static Man with a triumphant fist upheld. “I knew it!” he crowed, looking between him and Morgan. "And you were worried it would cause structural damage!"

"Uhh because it did?" she said, "That's one step away from a sinkhole, in my limited knowledge of dirt things."

"Hey, Archivist? New rule," Static Man grumbled, "You only get to use your psychic powers to help me win arguments, got it?"

 "I'll take that under advisement," said Jon, offering him an awkward smile. He tapped on the rock he was holding, and held it out to Nellie. “How’s this one?”

“Ohh, look at that,” she cooed. “It likes you!”

Jon stared down at the rock. It was not pretty, an unremarkable brown with a large black spot on one corner. The surface was smooth but not glossy, as if from wear rather than polish. It had an oddly comforting weight to it. Somehow it felt solid and dependable in a way that nothing else in the Arcade had. He could feel his own warmth reflected back towards him from how long he’d been holding it, magnified and radiating up his arm. My Girl by the Temptations had started playing over the store speakers.

“It does,” Jon said incredulously. “I don’t- how? Why?”

“How much is it?” asked Morgan.

“For him?” said Nellie. She studied Jon, eyes flicking between him and the rock. “I’d settle for one of those scars.”

Jon looked up. “Excuse me?”

Nellie traced a little crescent on her cheek where Jon had a scar from Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Institute. The ferret crawled up to nuzzle her fingers as she did so. “They’ve got a real arte povera vibe,” she explained, “I know a fella on the collector’s circuit who’d trade something good for one like that.”

“Riiiight,” said Jon, more a signal of acknowledgement than understanding. “If we’re ignoring the obvious questions as usual, am I allowed to haggle? There’s one on my leg that I’d like to be rid of.”

With an appraising sort of hum, Nellie leaned down and inspected the leg in question from a respectful distance. Jon clutched his rock a little closer.

“What’s wrong with that one?” asked Static Man, “Like, as opposed to the ones all over your face. And your hand. Man, you have a lot of scars, how did I not notice that before?”

“It’s a reminder,” explained Jon. “I suppose they all are, but this one’s different. It... hurts differently.”

“I gotta stop asking you questions, because every time you answer one I have, like, five million more,” said Static Man, a distinct tone of admiration in his voice.

“Nice to see that I’m not the only one,” Jon said dryly.

Nellie straightened to face Jon again. “I’m sorry, but I can’t budge on the price,” she said. “That one’s in deep. Now, the ones up top, you’ve got a few to spare.”

“Worth a shot,” said Jon, shrugging. “I’ll take it.”

He resisted the urge to squirm away as Nellie tugged down the neck of his shirt, revealing a scar just under his collarbone. She scrubbed at the edges of it gently until a sliver curled up into itself, then took the edge between two fingers and pulled. It came away to reveal smooth, unblemished skin underneath, as if it had never been there. Jon rubbed the spot with his free hand. He’d expected it to hurt. It just felt like peeling off an old band-aid.

“Thank you for that,” he said.

“My pleasure, dear,” Nellie said with a smile. She rolled up her sleeve around the ferret and carefully placed the scar on her shoulder, smoothing it down until it stuck in place.

“It looks good on you,” Morgan commented.

“Yeah, you look like a badass,” said Static Man appreciatively.

Nellie laughed. “What sweet young people you are! Are you sure there’s nothing else I can help you with before you go?”

“Actually,” said Nick, “There was one other thing. I was hoping to buy some pet food. We need birdseed and something for rats, mice maybe.”

Nellie gave him a knowing look. “The tailors. I thought it might be that one. You’ll want some fish food as well, everyone forgets to feed the fish. Tell you what, mister magic man. I’ll give it to you for free on the condition that you make sure that rock has a home after you’ve used it.”

“You’re familiar with the ritual, then,” said Nick. “You understand what I have to do to it?”

“It’ll survive,” said Nellie, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s a rock, not a champagne glass. I’ve just seen too many of the poor things thrown in the gutter after some hooligan has their way with them.”

Nick nodded. “I don’t see that being a problem. The Archivist seems pretty attached already.”

“Its name is Shirley,” Jon interjected. He was now clutching his rock in both hands and brushing his thumb absently back and forth over its spot. “And I’ll take good care of it.”

[lethargichockeybois]

how would you like it | a. burakovsky

a/n here’s my first real imagine. hope you like it. also, this is based on the song how would you like it by lauren aquilina, highly recommend listening to it while reading this.

word count: 2,135

(the gif is not mine)

• • • • • •

It had bugged you the entire movie but you didn't say anything, you were able to deal with it. But Patrick Swayze had just delivered his most iconic line and was about to do the finale dance with Jennifer Grey and Cameron wasn't even paying attention.

You glanced at his phone for what was probably the eighth time to see him texting someone. The Time of My Life was background noise as you reached up kissed him in an attempt to grab his attention. He kissed back and for a moment you think you have his attention, he surely has yours. You've always loved kissing him. And even though they haven't had the same spark recently, a smile always managed to tug at the corners of your lips after each kiss. But instead of him grabbing your chin with his fingers to keep you there like he usually does, he pulls back, gives you a brief smile and goes right back to his phone.

The sense of confusion is small at first, but by the end of the movie, it seems as if you're evaluating every little thing trying to understand what just happened. But no matter what you come up, nothing seems to be a satisfactory answer.

It was almost painful how obvious you two were in the back of the Uber. Luckily your driver wasn't the talking type. Your legs found themselves draped over his lap and his mouth found a home at your earlobe. The couple of drinks you had tonight were barely responsible for the buzz you felt. Most of it was Andre. Six months later and he still managed to make you feel like royalty.

You two probably could've stayed there in the back seat. But the car stopped, Andre paid, escorted you out of the car, and leads you up to his apartment. You stop in front of the elevator. There are distant dings for each floor it passes and impatience settles over the two of you. Andre leads you to the stairs around the corner and up you go. After each floor Andre has you against a wall, kissing you a couple more times before going up the next set of stairs. One hand was kept over your mouth to stifle your giggles.

You didn't even drink that much. But you don't need alcohol when you're with him. The button-up shirt, tousled curls, and his smooth talking's are enough to make you drunk. He keeps one hand laced with yours and you try to remember the last time you felt this type of excitement.

He's grinning like an idiot when you get to the door of his apartment. He uses his free hand to fish his key out of his pocket. You know he's slightly intoxicated, just like you, and getting the key into the lock takes a couple tries. But you don't care. You're smiling and his laugh sets your veins on fire. The door swings open, both of you stumbling in. You hear him toss the key onto a table and you close the door with your heel.

You can sense the fear in the back of your mind. A year ago that fear would’ve made you stop dead in your tracks. But not now, not here. Not with Andre because for some reason… it’s almost like he keeps the fear at bay. And even though a year ago you wouldn’t have even been able to make it to the cab, you realize you could stay there for a while.

Kissing him with your hands in his hair has never felt so good.

Friday night was date night. At least it used to be. It was a cliché method you and Cameron agreed on just so you could still dedicate time to each other. But there you were on a Friday night at home… all alone.

Earlier this week you two decided on staying in this weekend to watch classic 80's films and order take out from a new Vietnamese shop that had piqued your interest. You texted Cameron that morning to make sure those plans were still happening. He assured you they were and he’d be home right after work at 5:30.

But now it’s 10:30 and you’re home alone still sitting on the couch with an empty tea mug on the coffee table. Friends has been playing on the TV since early this afternoon, just white noise at this point. Around six, half an hour after he said he’d be home, you started tuning it out. All the thoughts in your head were enough of a distraction. You check your phone again, for what seems like the millionth time in the past couple hours, to see if you’ve missed a message from him. Still no new or missed messages.

You weren’t hungry anymore. Which is a shame because you were looking forward to pho all week. With a sigh you turn off the argument between Monica and Chandler, pick up the blanket you were snuggled under, and head to your bedroom. Sleep had been looming over you for the past little bit so you decided to call it an early night.

You expect to crash the minute your head hits the pillow but your mind is still racing and your thoughts too loud for you to actually be able to sleep.

The door creaks open, after who knows how long. You open one eye to check the clock on your bedside table. It’s a little after midnight. Cameron kicks his shoes off and then you hear him toss his pants into the hamper in the corner. Although knowing him he probably missed. Then the drawer opens, probably to grab his sweats, before sliding into bed next to you.

Cameron has to think you’re asleep you tell yourself. Otherwise, he would’ve been apologizing because he cares. He has to care. But while your brain won’t shut up trying to make sense of everything, you hear Cameron’s breathe settle into a pattern telling you he’s fallen asleep. Something inside you breaks and deflates all at once. Your eyes, tired and heavy, close again and you find yourself falling asleep.

One moment you're kissing Andre by the front door and the next you're propped up on the kitchen counter. It's easy to forget little things when you're with him. Things like where your shoes are or where you tossed your bag or how you two stumbling messes managed to make it to the kitchen without tripping over something, or each other.

Your legs find a home wrapped around his waist, your already short dress inching up your thighs. And as his mouth works wonders on your collarbone a warm hand grips your thigh. You find yourself breathing out his name.

If you weren’t struggling to remember your own name, you would’ve rolled your eyes at the cocky smile you could feel against your skin.

For a quick moment you see him, even though you swore to yourself months ago he wasn’t worth a second thought. He’s like a ghost to you. Haunting you, wanting to ruin any good thing that comes into your life. Hurt replaces the euphoria in your blood. You almost pull back but then you remember who you’re with.

Andre.

Andre and his gentle hands (or soft hands as you’ve heard countless hockey commentators say). Andre and his kind smile that actually lights up an entire room. With his patience and understanding, who says sweet nothings that fill you with a warmth you haven’t felt in a long time.

It’s Andre who makes you feel safe again. He gives you a sense of security that you weren’t sure you were ever going to get back.

Andre’s lips find their way back to yours as his grip on you tightens. When he knows your secure the support of the counter beneath you leaves and you find yourself being led down the hall. Hands rake through his hair, mouths clashing with each other.

Usually, you have music playing as you get ready but not this morning. The only sounds are the shower as Cameron gets ready for his day and you brushing your teeth. Things haven't been good recently, you've regrettably accepted that. But you don't know why or what to do about it. Maybe it's just a distance that comes with time, maybe all you need to do is figure out a way to get the spark back.

The ding from Cameron's phone snaps you out of the thoughts that could potentially send you spiraling. Instinctively you go to check it for him. You've been together long enough it's what you do. You start to call his name to get his attention from the shower until you see the text.

The name of a girl you don't know pops up with a message asking if they're still on for tonight.

You swear your heart drops to your stomach and some invisible being squeezes a hand around your throat. Every suspicion you've had for months attack at once. Maybe it's not what you think it is…

Spitting your toothpaste out you bite on your bottom lip, hating you're about to become that girlfriend. You put in his password, the idiot never changed it. A little voice in the back of your head tells you it's not the worst case scenario, that it is just distance and everything can be fixed. He wouldn't do this to you. No way. Not after everything you've been through, not after everything you've done for him.

But that little voice was wrong. You scroll through the messages realizing it's been going on for a while. There's a pit in your stomach as nausea rolls over you.

You drop his phone back on the counter and head to the room you share with him. The room you shared while he… You tell yourself not to think about it as you pack a bag with enough stuff to get you through the weekend. You have a friend you can stay with, and eventually, you'll come back to get the rest of your things.

The shower is still running when you leave. You don't remember walking down the three flights of stairs to the parking garage but you find yourself in your car, key already in the ignition. Maybe you were too busy feeling sick to feel anything else but when the nausea washes away it's replaced with pain. The crushing pain of betrayal, and that's when you finally cry.

The pair of you end up in his room, your kisses still a little messy but it doesn't matter. You unwrap your legs from around his waist, finding your footing on the ground. On your tiptoes, you pull back to look at him.

You pray Andre can't sense the doubt in the back of your mind. The doubt that ruins everything. And no matter how hard you've tried to get rid of it in the past it's still there. But you don't want this to get ruined. You want this. You want him and everything that comes along with it.

You don't know if he senses the uncertainty but the look he gives you, soft brown eyes and a faint smile on his lips, makes everything seem okay. And for a moment it really is just you and him.

No messed up past overflowing with empty promises and broken trust. No unrequited love and seemingly innocent excuses. None of that because it's you and a boy who has never broken a promise or made up pathetic excuses. A boy who never lets you forget how stunning or intelligent you are. A boy who has helped your cautious heart open up again.

So you kiss him. Because he's the boy who's taught you to love again. And as terrifying as it is to trust again, to hand over the most fragile pieces of yourself and trust that they will take care of you, you do it. You hand him your war-torn heart as you pull on his collar to bring him closer to you because you're craving the closeness.

In the second it takes the grab his hand and guide it to the zipper of your dress, it seems every worst-case scenario runs through your head. But at the end of every disastrous possibility of something going wrong, you see Andre. And you see his smile and the lazy mornings and the late night, post-game celebrations and the off days wandering through a part of the city you've never been to, and you're happy. Not broken or tired or sad. But happy.

Soon the zipper is undone and your dress is sliding off your shoulders. And you are no longer haunted by past heartbreaks, but rather seeing images of a hopeful, safe future.

[looselucy]

Childhood friends / 6244 words

Catch up

March 2017

Part One

To say I skipped downstairs merrily would be an alarming understatement. All I could think about was the fact that Harry was my boyfriend. All I could think about was how ridiculously happy we’d been the night before, the initial beginnings of our rekindling seeming to wash away and be replaced by this new commencement, which was so innocent and sweet that I almost felt like we were kids again. Just two teenagers who were trying to figure out their feelings as the same time as knowing that it was something special, like you’d do anything for them because you were foolish and young and smitten. It hit me directly in the chest to walk into the kitchen and see my mother sat there looking so miserable.

“Morning.” I greeted, trying to keep my chipper mood. “Kettles just boiled.” She said, almost no emotion in her voice. I tried not to roll my eyes as I sulked over to the cupboards and grabbed a mug, hoping that our conversation wouldn’t be a sour one even though I was absolutely sure it would be. “Are you really mad at me?” I sighed, preparing my cup of tea. “No.” “Well, you’re acting like you are.” “I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me!” She got straight to the point. “There was nothing to tell, mum!” I groaned. “It’s been… complicated. I didn’t even know it was a… thing. It wasn’t that I was withholding anything from you, it was just that I didn’t even know if there was anything to tell you about.” She remained quiet until my drink was made and I’d pulled up a chair across from her, staring her out until she finally spoke again, because I knew she had a lot to say, and I was practically going to force her to say it. I wanted to get everything out in the open again before I went back to Swanage. “Is he your boyfriend?” “He is, yeah. It happened last night.” “Which means that more has been happening before last night and you never told me!” “Okay, yes… We’ve been meeting but it wasn’t serious. And then suddenly it was but… Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It genuinely was pretty complicated until last night and… we decided we want to figure it out together. I mean… it’s Harry. He has a lot going on and… it’s not going to be easy but that’s what we’re doing. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, but do you understand why I wouldn’t?” “I do, yes. I’m not mad at you, Sweetie. I miss you a lot and I like it when we share.” “I know. I’m sorry.” “Is that why he was asking me about you last month?” “Yeah. See, we weren’t even speaking then!” I told her, wide-eyed. “A month ago, we literally weren’t speaking. There was nothing to say.” She seemed like she was easing with the more she was learning, suddenly lifting her mug and her eyelids, and it was nice to feel like we were just having a bit of a gossip rather than her interrogating me. That was how I’d wanted it to be. That was how I had planned it being before her nose had lead her outside the evening before and she’d seen us backed up against the garden wall. I was still cringing. “Why weren’t you talking?” She asked before taking a big sip. “He said he was going to be too busy, and I was… reluctant to tell him how I was feeling about anything.” Suddenly, her face dropped again, and I could tell what I’d just said had bothered her for a few reasons. It wasn’t hard to figure out, because it probably bothered her for the same reasons those words had been bothering me. Harry telling me how busy he was going to be in order to end our original agreement was something that had played on my mind a lot. It was what had almost stopped me from trying things with him on a serious level. “So what changed?” She asked uncomfortably. “Nothing changed. I mean… our attitudes towards it, I guess. We decided… not to care.” I shrugged. “We’re gunna try anyway.” “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” “No.” I managed to chuckle. “But it’s happening.” I think it was in that moment that I realised that my mother had actually been happy that I’d grown up shutting out emotions, shutting out people. We’d both reacted so similarly when my father passed away, dealt with it in perfect unison. I guess a part of me had always predicted that my mother would hate that fact that I’d blocked people out since it happened. I thought she would despise that I’d let it get to me so much that I became physically terrified of allowing people into my life that way. But it was in that very moment that I realised that a huge part of her had wanted me to be that way, hoping that my refusal to let people close would save me from getting hurt. She wanted to keep me from harm in one of the most harmful ways imaginable, and I was just realising. “Lulu, the likeliness of that working is so slim. You’re going to end up… getting hurt, and I don’t-” “Mum, please don’t.” There were tears in my eyes. “It’s taken me eight fucking months… to come to terms with my feelings rather than just… fucking ignoring them like we do. Please don’t make me take any steps backwards now. Mum don’t make me overthink this, please.” “Losing people hurts so much, Lulu!” “I know, mum. I fucking know. I lost someone too!” “But I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially not my daughter!” “But that’s life, mum!” I squealed. “I can’t keep avoiding this! I just can’t! If it’s not Harry then it’s going be someone else! I’m scared enough as it is, but I need… I need you on my side, please!” “I just can’t see you get hurt. I can’t.” “I know it’s scary mum… I’m scared. This whole thing is freaking me out, but I can’t… avoid people because of what ifs. People avoid amazing things because of what ifs, and I’ve been told not to be one of those people and I don’t want to be.” She nodded, clearly upset by the entire thing, but she knew she had to accept it. She didn’t want to, not really, but she had to. She must have been waiting for this day, and she would have struggled with it no matter the circumstances. The fact that the boy I’d found myself falling for was Harry just made it even worse. “It doesn’t matter what you say,” I sighed, reaching out and taking her hand in mine. “I’m going to try this with Harry. I just need you there being supportive of it. And I need to know that if it does all go wrong, you’ll be there to help pick up the pieces without saying I told you so.” “Of course I’ll support you.” She trembled, sounding somewhat defeated. “I’m sorry. I know I’m hard work but-” “You’re not hard work, mum. I can’t judge because my attitude was exactly the same as yours until recently, but… we have to try and break down these walls we’ve built. They’re not doing us any good.” She nodded again, and she looked so sad, it killed me. Unlike me, I think my mum had been totally aware of the way she held people at arm’s length, avoided situations that could result in her losing someone and getting hurt. She knew that about herself, always had, whereas for me, I was only just beginning to realise and wrap my head around it. She knew, and she knew she needed to change. We both did. “So, you like him?” “So much.” I sighed, like even talking about it removed a weight from my shoulders. “I mean… I always did but then obviously he fucked off and got famous and like… I dunno. I never thought I’d even see him again properly. He’s so great, mum.” “I know he is! He always has been. I always pinch his little cheeks. He’s very cute.” “He’s insanely cute.” I groaned. “I like him so much. I really think if we try hard enough, we could make this work. We both really want to.” We sat and spoke all morning. I caught her up on what had happened between myself and Harry, she caught me up on the general, extremely uninteresting, happenings of Holmes Chapel, and things seemed to return to normal. I knew she was struggling with it, and maybe she would struggle for a long time to try and be okay with me putting myself in a vulnerable position, but I was glad she was trying.

Part Two

“What did she say?” Harry asked for what felt like the millionth time. “Nothing noteworthy, I promise.” “She was off with me.” “That’s because you had me up against a wall, Harry.” “It’s nothing to do with that and I know it’s not, Little Lulu Lamb. She’s usually overly sweet with me. Is she… Is she not happy, that we’re… y’know?” “It’s fine, Harry. Please drop it.” I felt like my mother had come around, just slightly, but I still didn’t really want to tell Harry about how she’d reacted to the news that I was in a relationship with him. I didn’t want him to think we had anything else going against us. He could tell I was lying, that much was clear, but he finally accepted that I wasn’t going to explain my mother’s worry to him. With a slight eye roll, he sunk into the sofa a little more, flicking through channels, indecisive and sulking like a child. I moved myself, balancing my chin on his shoulder and staring at him awkwardly until it was impossible for him not to smile. “The fuck do you want?��� He chuckled. “She’ll come round, I promise. She’s just… She’s like me.” “I get that.” He sighed, turning his head and kissing the tip of my nose. “I just… I hope I can prove to both of you that… you don’t have anything to worry about. M’not gunna hurt you… Okay?” “Okay.” I whispered, fluttering my eyes closed as he kissed the tip of my nose again. “We’re slow learners though, okay? Give us time.” “Got plenty of it.” He cooed, lowering his lips to press against mine. I was living out a fantasy I’d had in my younger years. I was in Harry’s house, lazily kissing him on his sofa, the TV a dull drone of background noise because my lips were his entire focus. It felt so strange. Even when we’d started meeting again, started sleeping together, I had never thought we’d end up there, back in Holmes Chapel in his mum’s house, just innocently kissing one another. It didn’t feel like it could possibly be my life. The feeling was only amplified when he checked over my shoulder to see if he mother was about before he dove back in, his kiss intensifying. “Calm down.” I giggled against his lips, gently trying to push him away from me. “Can’t.” He mumbled, beginning to hitch himself from his side of the sofa, his body smothering mine. “Lulu… I haven’t felt you for almost… two months.” He groaned between kisses. “I’m getting desperate.” “It’s really not the time.” “You’re killing me, Lamb.” “Can’t you have a little patience?” “No.” He replied bluntly, fingers becoming lost in my hair as he yanked on the strands ever so sweetly. “Just… Let’s just…” Almost like she had sensed us getting far too carried away, and probably thinking she would have none of that under her roof, his mother loudly entered the room as though to give Harry enough warning so he could leap off me and the two of us could pretend we were being innocent and she could pretend we were too. “Hello, you two.” She greeted knowingly. “Hi!” I replied shyly, Harry groaning as quietly as he could, not impressed. “Lulu, are you staying for food?” “I wish I could, but I need to get home pretty soon. Thank you, though.” A think a small part of me wanted to get away sooner rather than later, because suddenly I wasn’t just spending time with Anne, a woman I’d known since I was small, a woman who I knew how to talk to. Suddenly I was very aware that she was my boyfriend’s mother, and I was slightly terrified that she would hate me. There was a pressure there that hadn’t been there previously. “Are you sure? You’re more than welcome to.” “Another time.” I smiled. “Saying that,” Harry saved me. “I’m gunna go pack. We’ll set off in ten.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before he was bouncing his way upstairs, as energetic as always, and leaving the two of us alone. I got up, approaching her and trying my best not to be nervous. “You look so tense!” She giggled kindly, making me very aware that my efforts were falling flat. “I feel tense!” I admitted. “That’s absolutely ridiculous.” “I know, I know.” I groaned, leaning onto the kitchen counter beside her as she began washing the copious amounts of glasses that had been used the evening before. “I’m sorry.” “I like that you two are figuring things out, despite the delay.” She smiled. “It’s nice to see him looking so… settled with someone. There’ve been a few people he’s liked and introduced us to, but he never seemed… as comfortable as he does with you.” “You serious?” I gawped. “We pick up on these things, us mothers.” “Hm.” I looked downwards, letting out a big swell of air. “Think you might need to have a few words with our Susan then.” My bitter disappointment was loud within my quiet voice, forcing Anne’s once happy face to lower, watching me carefully. “What happened?” She asked quietly, as though nervous of what she could and couldn’t ask me. Anne had a warmth in her tone, whereas my mother’s voice had been cold and hesitant. I wished my mum could see it the way Harry’s was. I wish she could be happy seeing me settled and opening up and finally accepting my feelings rather than shunning them. Anne was making it as clear as she could that she was happy for the two of us, and it would have been amazing to see the same thing from the only family I had. I swallowed thickly before I spoke. “You remember when my dad died?” I was shaking. “I do.” She nodded. “She… She broke down.” I gasped, like the words were released from me rather than spoken. “She just… completely broke down and shut off and… things got easier but I’m not sure she ever fully… I dunno. I’m not sure she ever fully got better, y’know?” “Well, he was a wonderful man.” “I know he was. He was amazing. And I struggled with it too, like… I’m not saying I handled it any better than she did, but… she’s just so cautious about me getting myself into situations where I could get hurt. She hated it when I went to uni. She hates that I don’t live at home. And… this morning I spoke to her about me and Harry and… she came round a little but I can tell she’s not too happy with it. She worries about me all the time and it’s exhausting.” Anne nodded confidently, and I couldn’t gather whether that was because she completely understood my side of things, or if she completely understood my mother’s side of things. Or maybe it was both. “I’ll talk to her about it.” “Anne, you don’t-” “When you moved to university, she came to speak to me about how I coped when Harry flew the nest. We talk to each other about these things, Lulu. I promise I’ll be able to talk a bit of sense into her, and make her open up a bit. I’ve done it before.” I gave her a soft smile, trying to show that I appreciated her efforts even though I wasn’t sure she’d be able to get through to her fully, but that warmth in her voice was infectious, something she’d managed to pass down to Harry too, and I hoped that she could talk some sense into Susan Lambert, because it was long overdue. And I knew if anyone was up for the job, it would be her. “Thank you.” I whispered. “I think you’ll both need this ride to be as easy as it can be.” I nodded, already alarmingly aware that it wasn’t likely things would be easy for us, but hearing other people acknowledging that only a day into our relationship wasn’t really easy. But I knew that mentally, there wasn’t anything that could make me change my mind or turn around and give up at that stage. All that mattered to me, deep down, was me and Harry, and how we were feeling. Everyone else’s thoughts and feelings were just background noise to me. Harry hopped downstairs just a few seconds later, myself and Anne dropping the conversation quickly. She shot me a wink that confirmed to me that our conversation would remain private, and I was very quickly reminded of how wonderful the woman was, and that I should stop worrying. “Ready when you are.” Harry said, with a quick kiss to my cheek.

Part Three

The two of us were in relatively high spirits to say we couldn’t really find a way to cram one another into our schedules for the foreseeable future as we cruised down the motorway. I guess we both knew it would be so common, it probably wasn’t worth getting upset over. That was just how things were going to be. “So what are your plans then?” I quizzed. “Um, well, we’re kinda in the process of deciding the album cover and stuff. Did this really sick shoot the other week and I think we’ll use one of those. We’ve gone with this really cool pink theme.” “Pink?” I squealed excitedly. “Yeah. Kinda reminded me of the colour your cheeks go when I say the right thing.” He smirked, turning to look at me. “IT’S HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!” “FUCK OFF!” I cried, slapping away his pointed finger. “Leave me be.” “It’s a brilliant colour. Possibly my favourite.” “Stop!” I shrieked. “Moving on, what are your plans when the single comes out?” “Uhhh… got some pretty hectic… schedules. Just, loads of promo stuff. Gunna be in London to start but then I’ve got a lot happening in the US too, so… Yeah. It’s exciting.” “I’m excited for you! Excited to hear your stuff. Hope it’s not shit.” “Hey!” “Well I do hope it’s not shit! I’m a terrible liar. I wouldn’t know how to bullshit my way through it.” He started nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, biting his bottom lip and shooting me a stare that I couldn’t quite figure out. “Okay, let’s put that to the test.” He nodded, relatively confident. “Look in the glove compartment.” “Huh?” I baffled. “Just look!” He whelped. “There’s a blank CD in there. Get it out.” “Are you serious?” My eyes went wide as it dawned on me. “Deadly.” My eyes remained wide as I reached in front of me and pulled open the compartment, an abundance of unorganised CD cases falling outwards, and one blank CD nestled nicely on the top of them. I held it in my hands like it was the most delicate thing my fingertips had ever had the honour of caressing. “Is this-” “It’s my single.” “Oh my god, no, Harry, I can’t! I’m too nervous.” “You’re too nervous? Are you kidding me? How do you think I feel?” “Oh god. Oh god. Do you really trust me enough for this?” “How many times do I need to tell you that I trust you more than… fucking most people in my life before you believe me?” “Most? But not all? I’m offended.” “WOULD YOU STOP BEING A KNOB AND JUST PUT THE CD IN?” I bit my bottom lip to hold back my giggles as I finally plucked up the courage to insert the blank CD into the spot, nerves punching at my stomach and forcing me to steady my breathing.I'm not too sure why I was so nervous. Harry had kept extremely quiet about his career, for a few reasons. He was scared, for one, I knew that. His career was also one of the main things that had kept us from being together a little sooner, so maybe we avoided talking about it on some level.And then on top of that, he was incredibly private about what it was he was doing. I think only a handful of people knew about what his plans were, in full at least. All I knew was that he had a single coming out, and the film, and that the whole thing terrified him so much that he tried not to think about it too often.To think I was just about to hear something that I knew he'd poured his entire soul into, was putting me on edge. “If you genuinely do hate it,” He shuddered. “Just… humour me. Lie to the best of your ability.” “I don’t wanna lie to you!” “Then I guess you’ll just have to like it!” “WHY IS IT TAKING SO LONG TO START?” “THERE’S A GAP IN THE SHIT RECORDING WE’VE GOT! WE’RE TRYING TO MAKE SURE IT’S NOT LEAKED! FOR FUCK SAKE, LULU, JUST WAIT!” So I did. I went completely silent, and still the track didn’t start.I felt like I wasn’t fucking breathing, and it dragged on and on to the point where I thought he might have been joking with me the whole time. And then it happened, these incredibly soft piano keys that I hadn’t been expecting, soaring through the car, haunting me. I ejected the CD almost immediately. We fell back into another short silence before Harry spoke. “Um… I have to say… that’s my worst reaction so far, out of anyone who I’ve let listen to it.” “No no no Harry holy shit no.” I slapped my hands against my mouth, making my jumbled words even less clear than they already were. “I was expecting guitars! I was expecting something heavy like… what the fuck am I about to listen to?” “Will you please just put the fucking CD back in? This is killing me.” I did as I was told, and this time we stayed silent the entire time, waiting that ridiculous amount of time once more before the track started to play again, and I was just as overwhelmed the second time around, like I still wasn’t fully expecting it. I covered my mouth again, physically shaking, and I somehow knew I was going to cry. I was bound to. It was my boyfriend, singing, on his own track. The pianos alone had been enough. His opening line was an instruction to stop crying, and I found myself doing the opposite. It was beautiful. It was so fucking beautiful and visceral and consuming that I couldn’t find the words. I thought I’d end up screaming at him throughout the whole thing, pointing out bits I liked and lyrics I thought were good, notes that he’d hit perfectly, but I couldn’t. I just sat perfectly still, perfectly quiet, streams of tears rolling down my cheeks. When the song started lifting, I felt like my heart was going to burst. All before Harry decided to fucking kill me by singing along. Singing at the top of his lungs, a beautiful rasp in his voice and his jaw so tight he could cut glass, we got to get away, over and over, loud and beautiful and perfect. He sang to it so perfectly it was like the words and the rhythm and the soul of the song had been etched into his being his whole life. Like it was just a part of him. Like it meant everything to him. He sang along beautifully until it ended, as softly as it had begun, and then he turned to look at me, a shy smile on his lips. “So?” “I don’t know what to say.” “Am I naive to think the tears are a good sign?” “Not at all.” I finally moved my hands. “Haz, it’s amazing!” “If you are lying, you’re good at it.” “I promise I’m not lying! It’s beautiful. It’s just… not what I was expecting. At all! I think I’ve just fallen a little bit more in love with you.” Even though he was looking out at the endless road ahead of us, I could see the sparkle in his eyes after I’d said that, and the relief he felt that I’d enjoyed it. Truly. “Good.” He chuckled lightly. “S’about time you catch up, Little Lulu Lamb. Pretty sure I’ve fallen the whole way down.”

Part Four

There was something tender and yet strong in the way that Harry held my hand. Softly, rubbing his thumb over my skin in a marvellously soothing way. And yet his grip was tight, like I couldn’t physically pull my hand from his even if I really tried. It was lovely. We wandered down the hallways of my building, and the second that my door came into sight, I felt a little sick. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. “Thank you for coming home for my… little reveal.” He smiled down to me, my bag slung over his shoulder. “I really appreciate it.” “It was great. Thanks for having me.” “And thanks for asking me out! I appreciate that too.” “Well, don’t bloody make me regret it.” I warned. “I’ll try my best not to.” He sniggered. We stopped outside my front door, Harry quickly dropping my bag down to the floor and then gazing down to me, letting out this huge sigh, like he didn’t really know what to say. I grabbed at his t-shirt, pulling him a little closer to me as I pressed my back to the door. “Stay in touch, okay?” I requested. “Mm. I will. Promise.” “And don’t miss me too much.” “Now that, I can’t promise.” He began to play with my hair. “Always miss you when you’re not around. But… I went six years without seeing you. Think I can… Think I can get through this.” “You weren’t missing me then.” I shook my head. “I was.” He said confidently. I could only look up to him for a second before he’d slammed his lips onto mine, gripping his hands against my jaw and banging his hips so that I was trapped against the door, moaning into his mouth and gripping at his sides. “Lulu, I need you.” He grunted, lips still lavishing mine. “If you don’t open this door and let us in, right now, I’m gunna bend you over in this fucking hallway and-” The sound of a door opening down the corridor forced him to pull his lips fully away from mine and put hand his head down instantly, the two of us distancing, but once again it was almost impossible to look innocent. We were a little dishevelled. Thankfully, Harry’s back was turned to my nosy neighbour as I watched him eye us up suspiciously whilst he locked his door, shooting me an awkward smile before he left, leaving the two of us to gather ourselves. I straightened my hair a little, reaching down to my bag and finding my keys. “I kinda wanted to make you wait.” I had been totally unaware of how breathless I was until I spoke. “Kinda wanted to test you a little.” “I hate that idea.” “I thought you might.” “You still wanna go through with it?” “I’m thinking about it.” I had kind of loved the idea of us entering a stage in our relationship where sex wasn’t really involved. We’d started that way. There had been a while where we pretended that was all we were, there for sex and nothing else. I’d had this ridiculous idea that we could at least try to hold off it for a while, prove to myself that things were different now. It wasn’t so easy to stick to that plan when he looked at me the way he was doing then, like he wanted to consume me in every single way he could. He knew exactly how to make me weak, and flustered, and it seemed like he’d known it from the first time he appeared at my door, still covered in dirt from shooting the film and etching this achingly gorgeous smirk across his lips. He fucking knew how to do it then, and his knowledge had only grown over time. I opened the door and went inside, turning around to look at him. So much had changed, and at the same time, everything felt the same. “I’m not gunna force you to do anything.” He swallowed. “But… I’ll fucking beg if I have to.” I tried to restrain my smile, biting at my bottom lip and seeing the look on his face, and he was deadly serious. “Okay.” I nodded. “Beg me.” “Let me in.” He began immediately, like he knew I was going to make him beg. “I’m desperate to feel you again. I feel like I’ve been starved of you over the past few months. I’m fucking… obsessed with your mind, but your body… that little freckle beside your bellybutton… the way you feel when I’m inside you. I’m craving it. I wanna remember every single inch of you. I’m begging you to let me in. I’m begging you to let me fuck you.” It was no surprise that I couldn’t find the words to reply to him, because I didn’t have the same equilibrium as Harry did. The only thing I could do was grab at the hem of my dress, and lift it swiftly up and over my head. By the time the material was off my body, and I could see him again, the smug little grin on his face only made me more eager for what was coming. He stormed inside and slammed the door shut, throwing himself at me, and we fell backwards, uncomfortably onto my sofa, his hand scraping up my body and then grasping at my breast, shuffling slightly so that we could find some kind of comfort in the position we’d landed. Everything felt so rushed, so in the moment and hot as Harry reached his hand down, unbuckling his belt with little to no effort, still kissing me as he sorted himself out, pulling down his pants as soon as he could, and only to the exact amount he needed to do what he wanted. It was only seconds later that he rushed to push my underwear to the side, and jolt his hips forward with a hard thud, and then he was inside me, my neck snapping back and curse words falling out of me. It felt like fucking years since I’d been with him that way. I’d almost forgotten how good he felt. His body seemed to shiver from head to toe as he pulsed a little further into me and pushed up on the sofa, letting out a throaty moan as he did, lips so plump it felt as though they were wasted when they weren’t exploring my skin. “Kiss me.” I gasped. “Look who’s begging now.” He continued to get cockier. “Just fucking kiss me, Styles.” He licked his lips before moving his mouth back to mine and bucking his hips up to my body, the harsh jolt sending bolts of bliss spiralling through me like lighting. He tugged harshly on my hair so that my neck was more revealed to him as he lowered his lips down over my jaw and then kissing from my collarbone upwards, thrusting into me beautifully, and then beginning to bite at my neck. His body was heavy on mine, hands harsh against my body, obviously eager and desperate. I loved the way he made me feel. I loved how sexual he was, like when we were together that way, nothing else mattered other than the two of us, how we felt when we were together, the way our bodies worked together like they were made me meet. I knew there would probably come a time where we would be tender with one another. I could tell in the way he kissed me. Touched me. Looked at me. I could even tell from the time that he’d gotten his cuffs and his collar. He had this incredibly tender and vulnerable side to him when it came to sex, it just wasn’t something he revealed too often. I wanted to experience every single side of him. I hoped I would, no matter how rare our meetings would be. “Love it when I fuck you like this, don’t you, Baby?” He moved his lips back up to my ear before he spoke, his short fingernails digging into the top of my leg. “M’always so hard for you.” “H-Harry… fuck-” “Put your hands round my throat.” “Fuck, what?” He lifted his body again, still driving into me, the muscles in his arms tense as he hovered his body over mine, biting his lip and moving so quickly I could literally feel my body getting weaker, all that happening whilst I was still trying to wrap my head around what he’d just asked me to do. “Lulu, put your hands round my throat. C’mon. Please.” “Fuck. Fuck.” I slowly started raising my hands upwards, clasping the two of them around his neck as gently as I physically could even though I knew that wasn’t what he wanted. I just felt a little overwhelmed in that moment, not necessarily surprised, just overwhelmed. His bite on his bottom lip intensified, and with it, I let my hands tighten, and the noise that came from within his throat, vibrating so much that I could feel his pleasure in the palm of my hand, proved I was finally holding hard enough. He somehow started pushing even harder into me, his eyes gripped shut so tightly that his laughter lines creased the skin beside his eyes, his dimples digging into his cheeks he was biting down so hard. Passion and pleasure appeared bright red across his skin, random blotches of the beautiful colour introducing itself to him, and I knew he was on the edge. All I had to do was lick my lips and grip that little bit tighter, and he came, letting out this high pitched, hoarse noise. I loved that it was obvious how desperate he’d been for us to fuck just in the short amount of time he’d managed to last. I knew he wouldn’t have the strength to keep his body upright, so when he dropped, his body landing on top of mine with an endearing thud, my hands went from being around his throat, to my arms being around his body, cuddling him. I loved that we could go from one extreme to other in literally seconds. I kissed his cheek over and over again as he calmed down, becoming limp inside of me. “You’re a dirty fucker.” I eventually giggled before kissing him again. “Fuck, I know.” He groaned, turning his head so that my lips would catch his. “Please still love me.” “I kinda love it.” I stroked my fingers through his hair. “You bring out… this side of me I didn’t know I had.” The tiniest smile introduced itself to his lips, somewhere between flattered and relieved. “I fucking love you.” He spoke with zeal. “Harry-” “No, Lulu, I mean. I’m not falling! That part’s over!” He lifted as much as his weak body would allow, looking down to me. “I’ve been… falling in love with you since I was thirteen years old. I love you. I’m in love with you.” There was a huge lump in my throat as I looked up to him, and again it was like I needed more time to process what he’d said to me than he was allowing. It was different to him saying he was falling. That had felt hopeful. When he’d said that, it had felt like it was just the beginning of something, like maybe one day he’d love me fully. It had come around much quicker than I’d thought it would. And what scared me the most was that it wasn’t just his words that felt a little pre-emptive, but it was how I felt. Because I felt exactly the same way. It was probably hard for him to see that, since I hadn’t said a word. “Lulu?” “You’re in love with me?” “Madly.” He nodded, and I was quiet again. “You don’t have to say-” “I love you too.” I spat out, quivering. “Yeah?” Fuck, the smile on his face was perfect. “Yeah, I… Yeah. I love you. I fucking love you.” I trembled, and he kissed me again, to soothe the shakes.

[cooperjones2020]

Second City, chp. 9

Summary: Sometimes she worries she’s settling �� for a smaller job, a smaller city, a smaller life than she’d promised herself — but that was before she found out Jughead Jones lives in Chicago. That was before she found out the final secret of Jason Blossom’s murder.

ao3–>http://archiveofourown.org/works/11409360/chapters/26199753

Second City one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight (ao3)

Nobodies Nobody Knows one / two / three / four / five (ao3)

In which Betty finds out where the bodies are buried

It’s almost impressive how the universe has decided to screw with her. It’s also just sick. She realizes, looking at the date stamp on the printout, that it has been 12 years to the day since Jughead left her, one year and seventeen days after Jason’s death.

She feels him enter the room behind her. And (she might be imagining it, but) she feels the air pressure change when he realizes what she’s holding.

“Betty—”

“What is this, Jughead?”

She turns and he’s leaning against the doorway, wearing only the towel from earlier wrapped around his waist. His arms are crossed so tightly the tattoo on his chest bulges and she can see all the veins in his forearms.

“Security footage.” She glares at him and he sighs, his whole body sagging, before scrubbing his hands over his face.

“You remember the tape?”

“Of fucking course I remember the tape.”

“Well it didn’t show…all of it. Hal was there.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

She tosses all the photos but the one back onto the desk and moves to push past him, but he grabs her arm. “Where are you going?”

“To get dressed.”

“What?” For just a second, he squeezes her wrist so tightly it hurts. Then he drops it like a hot coal.

“You are going to tell me what this is. But I’m not talking about it while we’re both practically naked.”

She rushes to the kitchen and shoves her jeans back on her body, dropping her bra in the tote still sitting on a chair. When she returns, Jughead’s bedroom door is closed, so she sits on the couch and pulls her hair up into a tight little ponytail on the top of her head.

When he comes back out, he drops his beanie on the coffee table and sits in the armchair to her right. He pulls a comb out of his pocket and proceeds to brush his hair. He does all this while staring at the wall over her shoulder.

She waits silently. Eventually he lets out a deep exhale and stands, throwing the comb down on top of the beanie. He disappears down the hallway and comes back with two mugs, a chemex, and an electric kettle. He leaves and returns with spoons, a jug of milk, and a roll of paper towels.

She lets him fiddle with his props a while. When he’s folded a paper towel into a square and set a steaming mug of coffee—prepared the way she still likes it, only with milk—on top, she lays the photo down on the coffee table between them and says, “What was he doing there, Jughead?”

“I don't know. I've been trying to find out.”

She thinks of the laptop, the notebook, the manuscript. “And you were what? Going to write about it?”

Out of the swirling vortex of emotions her mind is currently unable to process, anger emerges and she clings to it like a buoy. Except for the moment he grabbed her wrist, he has been so calm. She wants a rise out of him. She wants some indication he’s feeling even an iota of what she does. This situation is so unbearably familiar.

“Yes! No. I don’t know.” His hand clenches around the handle of his mug. She watches the tendons pop out then fade again. “I’ve definitely thought about writing about it.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” The look he gives her would be funny if they were in any circumstances but the current ones.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we haven’t exactly been on speaking terms the past dozen years.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Your father’s!”

“What?” Anger gives way to an anxiety that bubbles in her stomach and claws its way up her esophagus. For the first time in a long time, she has difficulty keeping her hands from balling into fists. She snatches up the paper towel Jughead had placed her coffee cup on and commences shredding it into smaller and smaller pieces.

“I’ve been trying to find out what he was doing there—what he knew—since it happened and—”

“What do you mean since it happened?”

He looks confused at her interruption. “Oh. No, not it as in Jason. It as in us. Since my dad’s trial. Do you remember Viper? He started bartending at the Wyrm the fall after we broke up. Told me there was another camera that Keller fucking missed. Helped me and the lawyer pull the footage.”

“Wait the lawyer? What about Mary?”

“She couldn’t represent FP. She doesn’t do criminal law and her bar license had lapsed in New York. The Serpents had their own lawyer, anyway.”

“Okay. But why was my dad there? What does this have to do with us?”

“Can we maybe just focus on the Jason Blossom murder plot for now?”

“Fuck no. You’re not wiggling your way out of this anymore. What. Is. It.”

Jughead stares at her for a moment and at first she can’t tell if he’s angry or annoyed or what. She sees his jaw working back and forth. But then she watches the decision to tell her wash over his face. She couldn’t tell you the moment, couldn’t tell you what individual feature change made it happen, but it’s as if a mask he put on in the parking lot of Pop’s twelve years ago finally comes off. Every plane of his face is etched in pain but the flint in his eyes tells her his fury simmers under the surface.

“You know how Southside got out of school a week before Riverdale that year? Well, one day I was hanging around the Wyrm waiting for it to be time to pick you up from school and your dad showed up. He said—” Jughead laughs but the sound is sharp, bitter. “God, I remember it exactly. He said, ‘Your relationship with my daughter has gone on long enough, don’t you think?’” His eyes cut to hers.

“He told you to break up with me? And you listened to him?”

“Actually, he threatened.” A roaring noise fills her ears and she becomes aware that she’s breathing way too fast. Jughead is staring at her as if he’s either expecting her to start crying or to explode. Thankfully, he doesn’t try to touch her. She’s sure if he did she would cry, she wouldn’t be able to stop the panic tears she’s only barely restraining now. He just waits a minute for her to get herself under control, then picks up the photo.

“He WHAT.”

“Well, he did try bribing me first.”

“What the hell did he trying bribing you with?”

“Nothing I wanted. So he showed up again later that summer. I asked you once how far your dad would go to protect Polly. To protect you. And I found out. Betty, he said — he told me he was there, that night, at the Worm. The night Clifford Blossom shot Jason. He said he was willing to testify that FP was an accomplice. That he didn’t just clean it up but that he helped Daddy Blossom plan it. It would have meant fifteen years, Betts.” His voice cracks on her name.

They argue their way around his apartment. In the kitchen, he gets her a glass of ice then turns to wash the dishes they’d just created. When his back is turned, she pulls out a cube and moves to stand next to the trash so it won’t make a mess as it melts. He tells her about finding the video too late. Two months after she’d stopped calling him. He tells her about the night Sheriff Keller brought her dad in for questioning. He tells her her parents own a stake in the Whyte Wyrm. That that’s why Hal said he was there. That Keller bought his story. That Hal smirked and nodded at him as he left the station. Like they were in cahoots. Like they had a deal.

When they leave the kitchen, she moves her bags with them, if only to keep having something to do with her hands. Then she stands outside the bathroom while he replenishes the store of toilet paper under the sink from the closet. While he refills the hand soap, he tells her about FP’s trial. About her dad’s testimony. He tells her and she hates that she’s not surprised she didn’t know any of this was happening.

He leads her back into the spare bedroom. He gets down on his knees while she tries not to stare at the photos she’d tossed so haphazardly across the desk. They seem indecent now. Like crime scene photos. Which they sort of are. Only the crime isn’t just Jason Blossom’s shot and leaking body, it’s this moment and that moment and all the moments in between in which she wondered what she did wrong.

What she did was be born to the wrong parents. And FP paid for it. Jellybean paid for it. Jughead paid for it.

He slides a banker’s box out from under the desk and sits with his legs spread around it as he lifts off the lid. She drops down beside him. He hands her a manila file folder off the top. It’s FP’s record. Tampering with evidence. Obstruction of justice. Mishandling a body. Perjury. Five years.

They’re details she already knows but it’s as if she’s had the outline sketch and now he’s suddenly filled in the color. “You didn’t put any of this in the book.”

“What? No, no I didn’t.”

“That’s a pretty fucking important thing to leave out, don’t you think? You wrote about everything else. You wrote about Clifford Blossom’s suicide. You even put some of the trial stuff in the afterword. You wrote about…” But her voice cracks and she can finally feel the tears coming, so she stops. She blinks quickly to keep them from falling.

“I didn’t want you to find out that way. I didn’t want you to find out at all, but definitely not that way.”

“So you lost your father so I wouldn’t have to lose mine?”

“I was losing him anyway. FP was guilty, Betty. Keller’s a dick but he was right. FP did let the Serpents kidnap Jason. He did tamper with the evidence. Hell, he tried to toss the body. And I knew I’d get him back if I kept my mouth shut. You couldn’t un-know this. I always knew who FP was. I always knew he wasn’t a good guy. If you knew, you’d lose Hal forever.”

“But I still did. Don’t you get it? I still lost him. I’d already lost him. I lost him when he sent away my sister. And I lost you.”

Betty fights to control her voice, her hands, her tears. The whole time, Jughead keeps his head down, looking at the file on her lap. She didn’t need him to protect her from who her parents were.

“I wouldn’t have judged you for picking FP over me, Juggie. I would have told you to.”

“I know that. But I didn’t want you to have to. It wasn’t a choice you could make for me. It—and the guilt—were mine. I couldn’t let you absolve me of them. By the time the trial was over, you hated me. I hated myself. And I had no cell phone and I was being babysat every fucking second of the day. For months I thought of nothing but coming after you and telling you what I’d done. But then when everything kept coming up roses for your dad—If there was even a chance he could come up with some evidence, they could always try FP again. It’d be a new charge. I couldn’t risk calling his bluff.”

“So you let him bully you. You let me believe you didn’t love me anymore. You let me give up on us.”

“What did you want me to do, Elizabeth?”

In some small corner in the back of her mind, Betty has been marvelling at how incredible this conversation is. She can still hear the picnickers on the boulevard outside. Shafts of sunlight and laughter swing between the billowing curtains. But inside, in the shadows of his apartment, Jughead is quietly and methodically dismantling everything she’s known about her life. Except for the occasional cracks, everything has been measured, calm. Now, though, now his anger begins to bleed through.

“You should have told me.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference! I still would have had to choose.”

“But I deserved to know! It would have made a difference to my life. My dad was the guilty one, Jughead.”

“He was your father.”

“He was guilty. How can you stand there and defend him?” Her anger is feeding on his and all she wants is to whip them both into a storm that will purge them of a dozen years of hurt and anger and betrayal and longing. But he’s right. She can’t un-know. And again, he manages to put the lid back on.

“I’m not. God, believe me I’m not. But I have had a bit more time to process this than you. I hate him. I will always hate him. But I can’t blame him for doing everything in his power to protect you, even though he thought he had to protect you from me. I would have done the same.”

She’s suddenly aware that the wooden floor has been digging into her knees. She shifts and draws them up against her, massaging out the lines the floor has cut. Now, though, they both lean against the wall, nearly shoulder to shoulder.

“You were right.”

“What?”

“I told myself it was for your own good. To protect you. That it was inevitable anyway so I was just setting you free. But that wasn’t it. I don’t know if I was more afraid of taking your dad’s offer or rejecting it. It didn’t matter, I was afraid of screwing up. So I let him choose for me.”

It’s what she’s always known, but somehow it hurts more to hear the words aloud. Somehow the explanation hurts more than the excuse.

“But don’t you get it? I had to. I had to do it, Betty. Even if you’d known. If Hal had come after us. Me. If he’d come after FP and you knew—you would have tried to stop it. We would have done stupid things to try to stop it. This wasn’t just breaking into convents and finding abandoned cars. I couldn’t get through it if I had to be worrying about you every second of the day too.”

“And that’s it, isn’t it?” she says quietly. She’s been fighting it off, but the pain swamps her then. It whooshes through her. Concussive. Massive and totalizing in its intensity. She stands and staggers back into the living room.

“What?”

When he follows her, she continues, “You know, there are a million reasons it didn’t work out with Hunter, but one of them was that no matter what I did or what I achieved, he always treated me like I was something fragile, something to be protected. You didn’t. Or I thought you didn’t, but I guess I was wrong. So I just need a minute—” She squeezes her eyes shut and wills herself, once again, not to cry. Not over him. Not where he can see. But it would take more than a minute to fit the broken pieces of her heart back together again.

He remains in the doorway to the spare bedroom, as if the liminal space, somewhere in between knowledge and memory, past and present, truth and fiction, will somehow protect him.

“When I was deciding to call off my engagement, I thought about all the men I’ve loved in my life. Hunter. Archie. My dad. Kevin. Even Reggie and I were pretty close friends at one point. And I realized, even Archie and Hunter, I loved them like I loved Kevin. Like I loved Reggie. I thought maybe the butterflies and the fireworks were just because we were in high school, that real life, that grown up love didn’t look like that. I thought maybe I didn’t get to have it. But that’s not true. What’s true is that apparently I’ve never been in love with anyone since you. And even you didn’t know me well enough or care about me enough to know that I didn’t need you to protect me. I just needed you to be honest with me. To pick me. To trust me. You should have told me.”

“God, Betty.“

“I have to go.”

“What? Betts, no—”

But she’s already out the door.