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theflyingfeeling · 10 months

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Twelfth Day of Gift-Giving: Gift Ideas

Prompt(s): jewelry + polaroid camera

We can have a little Christmassy angst & pining. As a treat 🖤 (another standalone, the main story will be continued...later this week 😌)

“Janne told me he’s buying Joel a dildo."

Olli snorted the mouthful of coffee he had just sipped back into his paper cup.

“What?!”

“For that stupid Secret Santa thing," Tommi explained. "He got Joel. Said he’s gonna write him a card saying ‘Merry Christmas, go fuck yourself’.”

With his mouth now empty – and provided with proper context for the anecdote – Olli was now able to laugh at it.

“Just what he needs, really.”

“D’you mind if we pop down to some stores on our way? I still need to buy mine for Porko.”

“Yeah, sure. Haven’t bought mine either.” Olli didn’t have much else scheduled for his Tuesday than a coffeeshop slash passport picture date with Tommi, so he might as well try to get the whole Secret Santa gift exchange fuss over and done with in time before the band Christmas party on Saturday.

“Who did you get?” Tommi asked and bit into his Christmas star pastry.

“I ain’t telling you. It’s Secret Santa, if I may remind you.”

“So Aleksi?”

Olli brought his cup back to his mouth, hoping it might at least partially hide the sudden blush creeping on his cheeks.

“When are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what,” Olli said laconically. Somehow, playing dumb was much easier than facing the truth. That was why it annoyed Olli to no end how he never stood a chance when Tommi as much as raised his eyebrow at him.

“Why should I tell him?”

“Don’t you think he deserves to know?”

The question made Olli sigh heavily, out of sheer frustration.

What right does Aleksi have to know, huh? How does he deserve to know that I can’t stop fucking thinking about him any more than I deserve this bullshit misery I’ve dug myself into? Or perhaps I do deserve it, in fact, just as a punishment for having fallen for him in the first place. Aleksi, on the other hand? All he's done has been just being his amazing, funny, sexy self to deserve nothing but blissful ignorance.

“Dunno.”

The creases on Tommi’s forehead softened.

“You’ll make your own decisions of course, but just… consider it. It might help you… you know…”

To get over him? To move on and forget about him, because it’s not like he’s ever gonna feel the same about me, and even if he did, by some goddamn miracle, it wouldn’t change a thing because he’s engaged to be married next spring? If anything, it would only make matters worse, thank you very much.

“Sure, I’ll think about it.” Olli chucked down the rest of his coffee, still so hot it almost burned his throat. “Well, let’s go then?” Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair he was sat on and headed towards the shopping mall escalator, not stopping to see if Tommi was keeping up with him. He did hear the long sigh with a beaten undertone to it but hoped that would be the end of that conversation.

~*~

Still empty-handed after visiting a number of stores at the mall, Tommi pulled on Olli’s sleeve as they passed a jeweller’s.

“I wonder if they have something under twenty euros there?”

“Worth a shot,” Olli shrugged, although he had already more or less given up on finding anything he’d want to give Aleksi for Christmas that wouldn’t scream either ‘I’m crushing on you so fucking bad that I will go insane if you look at me like the way you did that night in Berlin one more time’ or ‘hey, bro, have this stupid boob-shaped flower pot as a token of my brotherly affection, because I’m totally cool with the fact you’re getting married to someone that’s not me and that I’ll never get to have you the way I want you… bro’.

As soon as they entered a shop, Tommi’s face lit up when he spotted a display of cheap children’s earrings.

“Hell yeah, now we’re talking. Oh, look, Little My ones!” Tommi picked up a box with a pair of stud earrings inside, a poorly-painted Moomin character as decoration.

“They sure would fit Porko’s new stage fit,” Olli smiled wryly.

“Yep, that’s my gift for Porko settled,” Tommi agreed, checking the bottom of the box for the price. “Have you found anything for Aleksi yet?”

Olli then pretended to look around the selection of jewellery and shrugged.

“How’s about one of those fake septum rings? Since he seems to like the one he already has.” Tommi nodded towards a shelf displaying a collection of fake piercings in various colours and styles.

Olli swallowed. He did not need a reminder of Aleksi’s new-found love for piercings, not after that one night Olli had, lying in his bed at night going out of his mind missing Aleksi’s stupid face, been browsing Aleksi’s social media accounts until a picture of the man Olli had never seen before, with his neck and eyelids painted black and a ring decorating his septum, appeared on his phone screen. Promptly Olli had ignored the other piece of jewellery Aleksi had been wearing on his left ring finger and had begun grinding against the mattress with his eyes nailed to Aleksi’s face until he had come inside his boxers, his moans and gasps muffled by a pillow.

He hadn’t felt proud of himself afterwards, even though it was hardly the first time he had masturbated to the thought of Aleksi.

“That one looks cool,” Tommi pointed at a septum ring with decorations imitating brass knuckles. “I think Aleksi might like it,” Tommi pointed out helpfully before heading towards the check-out counter, a self-satisfied smile on his face as he admired the perfect gift he had found for Porko.

Aleksi would like it for sure, but what about Olli’s own sanity?

Fuck it, he thought nevertheless and grabbed the damned ring before walking after Tommi.

~*~

So far, Olli had succeeded in keeping a sensible distance to Aleksi without seeming like he was avoiding him, while also holding on to the last bits of his mental health. At least Aleksi wasn’t wearing that ridiculous(ly hot) fake piercing, even if Olli did have to restrain himself from staring at Aleksi's unruly hair and the front of his tight black t-shirt for too long, or else he might have actually begun to weep by Aleksi’s feet.

Joonas loved the Little My earrings Tommi had bought him, and Janne did, indeed, gift Joel a large, pink dildo just as he had threatened, which resulted in a round of immature laughter as the silicone sex toy was passed around. When it came to Aleksi’s turn to open his present, Olli made sure to look everywhere else except at him.

“Oh, wow, this is cool.” Aleksi brought the little box almost to his nose for a closer inspection. “Really cool, actually.”

In his moment of weakness, Olli dared a glance at Aleksi, only to find he was looking straight back at him in return.

“Thanks,” Aleksi said. Olli wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what had blown his cover.

Not exactly in his best Christmas spirits, and even less in the mood of being everyone’s centre of attention, Olli dawdled unwrapping his present until everyone else was already gawking at the silly knick-knacks and tacky accessories they had been gifted by fellow bandmates or members of the crew. Luckily his was hidden inside a simple paper bag, so he could easily sneak a look in without making a show of tearing it open from wrapping paper.

When he saw what was inside, he swore his heart stopped for a second or two.

He was looking at a polaroid camera, but instead of a brand-new, never-before-used one, he had been given his own polaroid camera, the one he had lost during their European tour in the fall. It had been broken that night, dropped on the floor one too many times, and on top of that someone had stolen it right from their table towards the end of their afterparty in a crowded local bar. He had pretended not to be bothered by the loss, even though snapping random, aesthetic shots at their tour locations had been his favourite pastime during those weeks; at least it had given him something else to do and think about than drowning himself in his heartache.

Aleksi was the only one who would’ve known how upset he actually had been about the stolen camera, for Olli had (literally) cried about it to him afterwards in their hotel room, too tipsy on cheap German beer to care how Aleksi might have perceived him. It was Olli’s best and worst memory from that tour; falling asleep with his face buried in the crook of Aleksi’s neck, waking up with a throbbing headache and his yearning for the man stronger than ever.

Although Olli had immediately recognized the camera from the slight dent on its side, he still reached for it to pick it up in his hands, just to make sure it really was the same one he had lost – or thought he had, it now seemed. With a trembling finger he turned the camera on and couldn’t help the soft gasp that left his mouth when he saw the device coming to life, which had not happened the last time Olli had held it in his hands. Then he proceeded to take a picture of the pile of torn wrapping paper on the table in front of him and watched as a still blacked-out picture slid out of the machine.

Suddenly the private room they had rented for the night at a downtown Oulu restaurant felt too small and suffocating around him, so he set the picture and the camera on the table and stormed outside.

The frigid coldness of the outdoors punched the air out of Olli’s lungs, forcing him lean against the brick wall by the back door of the restaurant to catch his breath. At least it was winter and the terrace was empty; he didn’t exactly need witnesses for his little meltdown.

He wasn’t granted the privilege of privacy for too long, however, because a moment later, the back door opened, letting out the cheerful chitter-chatter of the restaurant for a couple of seconds before muffling it again.

“Everything okay?” Aleksi asked him. Olli could only bring himself to nod.

“I, ummm… I had your camera fixed.”

“I noticed."

“Sorry I had to steal it first though. I didn’t meant to, in fact I was just trying to make sure you wouldn’t lose it, but then I just… then you… fuck, nevermind.”

A small cloud erupted in the cold winter air as Aleksi sighed heavily.

“It’s fucking cold in here,” he said when the cloud had disappeared and stroke his bare arms. “Let’s go back inside?”

“Yeah, you go, I’m just gonna… I need another breath of fresh air, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Aleksi said quietly, but showed no other signs of leaving his side.

Olli wondered if the silence between them was as deafening to Aleksi as it was to him.

“Thanks for the piercing, by the way. It’s fucking cool.”

“How did you know it was from me?” Olli couldn’t help himself any longer and blurted out the question or else he’d go mute for good.

Aleksi chuckled. “Christmas magic, I guess.”

Olli almost felt like telling Aleksi to shove his ‘Christmas magic’ to you-know-where for giving him such an annoyingly vague answer instead of a serious one, and he supposed Aleksi understood his passive-aggressive silence as the man continued a moment later:

“I, uhhh…” he paused to chuckle, “I may have gone through everyone to figure out who was your Secret Santa and then switched with them. And now I sort of regret it, I mean… I should’ve just given the camera to you weeks ago. I’m sure Niko would’ve gifted you something that wasn’t as… creepy.”

“It’s not creepy,” Olli shook his head. “It’s very thoughtful, actually. Thank you. I… god, I hadn’t even thanked you yet,” he groaned, hiding his face in his hands for lack of anything better to do with himself. Aleksi had just given him the sweetest, most unbelievable Christmas gift Olli could have dared to wish from the ridiculous Secret Santa humbug Joonas made them do every single year, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be thankful from all his pining and grief? Such a friend he was.

(Aleksi did deserve better.)

“So you’re not mad at me for taking your camera and not telling you?”

Olli shook his head again.

“No.”

How could I ever?

“Good,” Aleksi nodded. His teeth had begun clattering. “Fuck, it’s freezing tonight. I could never live this up north.”

Please don’t remind me.

“You should go back inside. I’ll be right behind you.”

“No, I can wait. Keep you company.” Aleksi shoved his hands in his jean pockets, casually as if he wasn’t literally shivering from the cold. “I mean. Unless you want me to go.”

If Olli had been even half as strong as he would’ve liked to be, he would’ve ordered Aleksi to leave him alone so he could dwell in his misery in peace. Tragically, the part of him that craved to be near Aleksi always trumped any other feeling.

“Just stay. If you want to. Although I’m afraid I’m not the best company right now.”

He could feel Aleksi look at him, patiently waiting for him to elaborate.

“Is there anything I can do to help that?”

Is there? Let’s see. You could throw that ring of yours in the Bay of Bothnia and call off the wedding for starters, or if you can't do that, then at least cross my name off the guest list, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to witness your happiness next May, as selfish as it sounds. Or then I guess you could pull me in your arms like you did when I cried to about how grief-stricken I was about having my camera stolen and maybe even let me fall asleep on your chest one last time, for old times’ sake, before I’ll pack my bags and move to the North Pole perhaps, or some place else that’s too cold for these thoughts of you to follow me.

“Not much, I’m afraid.”

Next to him in the dark, Aleksi nodded. Yet, he made no effort to leave his side, although by then he must have been struggling to appear unbothered by the cold in just a thin t-shirt and jeans.

After a while, when Olli himself was starting to feel the effect of the minus degrees, Aleksi shuffled closer to him; not quite touching him, but close enough to easily rest his chin on Olli’s shoulder if he wished to; close enough for Olli to hear his shivering breaths in his ear.

“Olli, I… I should tell you. While I still can.”

It was laughable how just one sentence was all it took to bring Olli’s hopes back up from the gutter. Not awfully high, but on the surface, as if to make sure they'd still be alive to maximise the pain on the way back down to the depths of his agony.

Because there were times Olli had asked himself if the lingering looks or touches they shared meant as much to Aleksi as they meant to him. He had spent many a sleepless night wondering if there really had been something other than friendly fooleries going on in between them when Aleksi had pinned him against the backstage couch in Berlin or whether Olli had only imagined the thirst he had seen Aleksi’s his eyes. Sometimes he stayed up until morning, trying to come up with a rational explanation to why Aleksi had been texting with him throughout the night instead of being asleep next to his fiancée.

Maybe he was just bored. Maybe he couldn’t sleep for whatever reason; literally any other reason than what Olli hoped would be the truth.

“Tell me what?” His voice was shaking, but not because of the cold.

“That I, ummm… that I’m… Oh.”

Instead of finishing what he was about to say, Aleksi reached for his back pocket and took out his phone, a soft buzz sounding from it. Another cold silence fell on them as Aleksi stared at the screen, studying the notification that had popped. Only then Olli could dare a look at the man, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the phone screen.

Olli decided he’d be better off not asking who it was that was missing him, afraid he knew the answer already.

“Ummmm… Nevermind.” Aleksi sighed at the phone before putting it away. Then he reached his hand to brush the back of Olli’s palm lightly. Aleksi’s touch was surprisingly warm and gentle, yet it sent shivers down Olli’s spine.

“Don’t freeze yourself to death, okay? I’mma head back inside.”

Olli was left staring at Aleksi’s back before it disappeared inside the restaurant, leaving him to voice his response to the pitch-black wintery night instead.

I might as well, he said in his mind, as I’m sure it would be less painful a way to go than dying from this torture of being in love with you.

#blind channel fanfiction #blind channel rpf #24 days of gift-giving by theflyingfeeling #ollixallu #this is awful actually. like. downright mean even and i'm sorry (no i'm not <3)#but at least this was inspired by /those/ pictures of aleksi 👀#shame about the septum being a fake one tho :\#ironically this is also the only one that's a little more christmassy #in the sense that there's christmas shopping and a pre-christmas party (pikkujoulut) involved #i promise tomorrow we'll be back to funsies again 😇#i've just been writing one sappy story after another lol i needed a break 😮‍💨

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conherofrost · 10 months

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Frieza: Ha! Seems I’m not the only one with a copy cat.

Frost: What the- who the hell is pretending to be me?!

Frieza: No idea. Perhaps it’s another you from a parallel dimension. I understand the multiverse is complicated in that matter.

Frost: Ugh, whatever. They can do what they want, I don’t care. Just don’t taint my name.

(OOC: You’re blog inspired me to do my own with Frieza and Frost. I hope it’s okay I use Frost as well. Personally though, I think you do better role playing as Frost)

-frostyduo

Huh... This is quite peculiar. Another Frieza and another me? Or at least some attempt at pretending to be such?

Finding out the sheer scope of the multiverse, discovering that we're only a mere twelfth of the whole picture, was one thing, now I have parallel dimensions to worry about?!

...I'm just going to keep telling myself that this is some kind of joke and not let it keep me up at night.

Also, my "alternate self", if you really exist, don't worry about me tainting your name, we've already done that to ourselves, remember?

#answers #frostyduo #((hello! so glad I was able to inspire you))#((it may be tricky to get the whole parallel dimension thing working; a bit of a mind boggle))#((so Frost might not really interact with his parallel self just to avoid confusion))#((but I still look forward to seeing content on your end))

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bugsonatugboat · 2 years

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Sometimes, just sometimes, in the late hours of night, Todd and Neil will stay up and just talk. The nights when it’s just a little too quiet and they both know that neither of them are asleep. They’ll just stare at the ceiling and talk and talk until one of them closes their eyes and sleep finally takes hold.

“What do you think you’ll do?” Todd asks, arms crossed over his chest. “When you get out of here.”

It’s a question that avoids the truth. They’re aware of the things Neil is expected to do. They know the path ahead of him, laid out meticulously by his father. But he’s felt so free lately that maybe just once, it’s not a crime to imagine what could be.

So he rambles. He thinks about Shakespeare productions he’d love to be in, The Tempest, Twelfth Night. People he wishes he could meet. He wants to talk to actors, writers, directors, just to be in their presence. To know what it’s like to succeed in what you love. He talks about the places he’d like to visit, maybe Greece, or France, maybe even London. Mr. Keating talks about London a lot. Talks about his wife. He loves hearing about it, thinking of the vastness of the world, how much broader it is than the rust colored walls of Welton. Worlds that could swallow him up. Worlds where he could be insignificant, for once, and it would feel like relief.

“We’d go everywhere. It’d be amazing.”

“We, huh?”

Neil is taken aback by that. He thinks back to Greece, back to France, London. When did he start picturing Todd next to him? No, in his head, not once was he alone. There Todd is, waiting to crush Neil in a hug after his shows. There he is, eyes gleaming as Neil introduces him to his favorite writers. There he is gazing at landmarks and breathing in the lack of stuffy classrooms or exam papers. Why is it that Neil can’t picture a future without Todd?

“Yeah,” is all Neil can whisper back. The ceiling refocuses above him, the visions of faraway blue skies fading into obscurity. The only thing in his vision that stays is Todd. Next to him, always. He ventures a look towards the other side of the room.

Todd is staring dreamily at the ceiling still. Neil’s vision is beautiful. He wants to be caught in it forever.

“I can’t wait,” Todd says quietly.

Neil’s heart aches. He looks back to the ceiling. He sees Todd knelt down in the Notre Dame square, laughing at the endlessly cooing pigeons at their feet. They’re happy. Our future, Neil thinks, letting his eyelids drift closed. I can’t wait to take you with me.

#an idea :]#the moment that you realize your life is no longer complete without that one person in it #anderperry #dead poets society #dps #neil perry #todd anderson #neil x todd #dps fic #dps headcanons #short fic #fanfic

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isthisthingeven0n · 4 years

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darkest truths : s.r

returning from his time in prison, spencer joins you and the team on a mission that takes a darker turn than you could’ve imagined. (2k)

darkest truths / brightest lies

all my links

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Everyone was a tad nervous for Spencer to return, yet despite the team's anticipation to watch him walk through the glass doors to the bullpen, a few kept a close eye on you.

“Todays the day, huh?” Penelope nudges you, snapping you from your deep thought about the situation in hand.

Spinning in your chair, you hum in response. “Yeah, today is the big day.” You laugh lightly, but Penelope as always can see straight through you.

Tutting under her breath, she perches herself on the edge of your desk. “What is it? You didn’t have a fight or something last night?” Penelope asks, but you shake your head.

“No, we, we’re good, I promise you.” You reach out, resting your hand on her arm as you listen to a long sigh of relief from Penelope. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, but nothing I can’t handle.” You assure her, wanting to move the topic onward.

“Thank the heavens for that,” She rises to her feet happily. “I can’t have my forbidden lovers at a loss.” Penelope dramatically claims before a gasp sounds from her.

Leaning back, you catch sight of the reason for her gasp; Doctor Spencer Reid returning to the bullpen, something no one thought was a possibility for a short while.

“You’re back!” Penelope yells as she rushes over, enveloping Spencer into a tight hug.

Spencer hugs Penelope back, patting her back as he looks over at you with a small smile. You knew he was nervous about returning, he’d been up half the night talking to you over the phone as he rearranged his book collection for the twelfth time.

Quickly, everyone welcomed Spencer back with open arms. JJ was the last to greet him, having a quiet word before glancing over to you. “Don’t leave her waiting any longer, Spence.” JJ mutters to Spencer, patting his arm as she smiles your way.

Rising to your feet, Spencer hovers in front of you. “Welcome back, Doctor Reid.” You chuckle, even after all these years, some things never do change.

“It’s good to be back, Y/l/n.” He tells you, his hand reaching out for yours as he squeezes it lightly. “Thank you for last night, and staying on the phone.” Spencer mutters, feeling you squeeze his hand back for a moment.

“Anytime, Spence. You know that.” You whisper back, hugging him briefly just as Emily emerges from her office.

“I hate to say it now, but we’ve got a case.” She announces, and you all quickly file into the conference room.

Taking your seats, Spencer sits beside you as Penelope places all your files down. “Can’t say this is the warm welcome I expected to be giving to the good Doctor himself but seems serial killers refuse to take a day off.” Penelope states as she picks up her remote.

Shuffling forward in your seat, you watch closely, oblivious to Spencer glancing out of the corner of his eye. Yet, despite your lack of knowledge, Rossi could see it clearly. Spencer could barely take his eyes off of you, admiring the concentration as your brows furrow together, the determination and focus in your gaze as you listen intently to Penelope. Truth be told, Spencer missed it, more than he allows to let on.

“Today you’ll be heading to Beavercreek, Ohio. Within the past week, there have been three separate homicides. All three victims have yet to be identified and were found with eight gunshot wounds, one of which in the head, killing them.” Penelope shudders as you all look through the case files.

“Shot execution-style, efficient.” You comment, looking at the photos of the two male victims found on the outskirts of town, dumped with their ankles and wrists bound.

“Do we have any leads?” Tara asks, and Emily steps in.

“Since we have yet to identify our John and Jane Does, we’re going based on missing person reports within the past twelve months. These victims were all taken and killed recently, so our unsub isn’t keeping them long. Wheels up in thirty.” Emily explains. “Oh, Y/n, mind if I have a word?” She asks, exiting the room as she heads to her office.

“Someones in trouble.” Luke jokes as you roll your eyes, but Spencer glances over as a look of concern crosses his expression.

“It’s fine, Spence.” You assure him. “You go ahead, I’ll be right behind.” You smile to him as he exits the conference room with JJ whilst you make your way over to Emily’s office.

“I know this is Spencer’s first day back, but I wanted to ask how you are.” Emily states as she gathers her things whilst you hover in the doorway.

Smiling softly, you nod. “I, I’m good.” You tell her, but Emily raises a brow, clearly unconvinced. “I promise, Em. I’m doing fine.”

“Okay,” She sighs, walking toward you. “but if there’s any change, you have to let me know, alright?”

“You got it, boss.” You salute to her as you both exit her office, catching up with the rest of the team as you enter the elevator.

Standing in the ME’s office, the sight before you made your stomach churn.

Usually, these sort of sights never had an effect on you, but something this time is different.

“Hey, you okay in there?” JJ asks, resting her hand on your arm as you snap from your daze as you stare at the bullet hole in the centre of the forehead, wishing that it was the only bullet hole on the John Doe.

“Sorry,” You mumble. “lost in thought for a second.” You clear your throat, stepping closer to the John Doe as you bend over, taking a closer look at the bruising on the wrists from the ropes. “So these victims were tied up, restrained and then shot seven times in the torso and once in the head?”

JJ walks over with the ME’s report in hand. “Actually,” JJ trails off and you stand up now, looking at her as her brows furrow. “it says seven shots were fired post mortem.”

“Why would the unsub shoot seven times after their victim was already dead? Seems like severe overkill.” You reason, and JJ hums. “Sometimes not adding up, we better let the others know.”

“Hold on,” JJ pauses, reading further into the report. “it says there’s something on each victim's mastoids.”

Turning around, you walk over and glance down. “It’s the letter T.” You tell JJ as she bends down beside you, taking a look for herself. “Could it be a signature?”

“I’m not sure.” She states. “Let me get the report for our first Jane Doe, see if there’s anything different for hers.”

As JJ exits the room, you exhale deeply and take a seat. “It’s fine, Y/n.” You tell yourself as you rest your hands against the cool metal cabinet behind you as you try to recompose yourself.

“Y/n,” JJ calls out. “we gotta talk to the team, look.”

Passing you the file, you sigh at the sight of what is on the Jane Doe’s ear.

“T & D?” You speak up, and JJ nods. “Let’s go.”

“Truth or Dare.” Spencer states as he stands in front of the boards. “Our unsub is playing truth or dare with our Jane and John Does. Answer truthfully, avoid being shot. Lie, and well.” He trails off as he motions to the pictures behind him.

“Any update on who our Does might be?” JJ asks as Penelope remains connected and the sound of her typing echoes through the line.

“I’ve found a potential match for our Jane Doe. Lucia Hanes, 24, went missing six months ago. On her way home from work but never arrived, reported missing since and never found.” Penelope explains.

“Garcia, can you-”

“I’ve sent you her families details to your tablets.” Penelope finishes before Emily could even ask.

Chuckling to yourself, you open your tablet, looking at the information. “Thanks, Pen.” You call out as you all split up, you and Luke heading to Lucia’s mother's house.

“So, how does it feel?” Luke asks as you pull up outside Marie Jakings house.

“How does what feel?” You question as you walk up the driveway, Luke behind you.

“Having Reid back?” He nudges you playfully. “Come on, he’s your guy, or whatever you two call it.”

Rolling your eyes, you knock on Marie’s door. “He’s my boyfriend, technically.” You comment, knowing Spencer has spent more time in jail than you have officially dating. “But my best friend first and foremost.” You add as the door opens.

“Hello?” Marie answers, crossing her arms as she looks between you and Luke.

“Ms Jakings?” Luke asks as he holds his badge out. “I’m Agent Alvez and this is Agent Y/L/N. We’re here regarding the disappearance of your daughter, Lucia Hanes.”

Marie’s hand rises as she covers her mouth, muffling a sob. “Ms Jakings, I understand this has been hard for you, but we’re only asking for a few minutes if that’s alright?” Your voice softens as Marie straightens up and stifles her sob, allowing you both inside.

Sitting in her living room, you can’t help but notice the pictures of Lucia covering the mantelpiece and as you blink, you can’t help but vision Lucia lying on that metal table, lifeless.

“Thank you for your time, Ms Jakings,” Luke speaks up as Marie sits opposite you, her hands shaking as she picks up her mug of coffee.

“Do you have kids?” She questions, looking between you both.

“I, no.” You stumble over your words as she simply nods.

“So you have no idea how hard this is? Your daughter goes to work and never comes home, and has potentially been a victim of, of a serial killer?” Marie’s voice cracks as tears fall from her eyes.

“Ms Jakings, I’m sorry, I truly am. But right now, we’re just trying to find any connection between your daughter and our unsub.” Luke explains, leaning forward whilst you swallow the vomit rising in your throat. “Was there anyone who would’ve wanted to hurt Lucia? Or had a problem with her?”

Marie hums to herself for a moment before glancing towards you. “No, she, she was a kind person. She studied hard, she was saving up to go travelling. I, I’ve never had an issue with her.” Marie states. “But, there was this incident in High School,” Marie mutters.

“An incident?” You ask. “What, what sort of incident?”

“Well, Lucia and her classmates took part in an online game. She told me it was something everyone was doing all around town.” Marie glances over to the framed photo of Lucia and herself on Lucia’s graduation. “I didn’t think much of it, none of the parents did.”

“What game was this?” Luke speaks up, now taking his phone out to record the conversation between the three of you.

“Truth or dare.” Marie tells you both, noticing the look shared between you and Luke.

“Ms Jakings, I think it’s best if we bring you into the station, for your own safety and we can continue the conversation there.” You explain as you rise to your feet, Marie complying.

“I’ll call Garcia, have her check into the history of this game in the school.” Luke comments as you walk out to the SUV with Marie.

As you all sit in the SUV, Luke pulls away whilst you sit in the back with Marie. “It’s to do with that game, isn’t it?” Marie asks, her voice shaking now as you remain silent. “I knew it would catch up with them.” She mutters.

“Ms Jakings, what do you-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Luke yells as a force collides with the car. Immediately you’re knocked to the side, slamming your head against the window as you faintly hear Luke calling your name until everything becomes black.

PART TWO

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Hobbies

Phic phight! @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy

A series of vignettes about Danny having various hobbies.

(Master the Orb)

Danny exhaled slowly as the ice built up between his hands. Each new layer glittered in the ghostlight cast by the overhead ambient ectoplasm, embedding complex patterns in the overall piece as new layers built up over it.

“Very good, Great One,” rumbled Frostbite behind his shoulder. “Your control has improved immensely.”

Danny inhaled equally slowly, examining his work so far but not adding to it quite yet. “I don’t know. It looks a little lopsided.��

“Mmm, it looks fine to me. Especially for such an early attempt.”

Danny sighed, exhaling the ice he had built up with his breath. “So, it is lopsided.”

“Consider it practice,” said Frostbite, encouragingly. “It takes time to master art of any kind.”

“Humans do ice sculpture, too,” mumbled Danny. “They get really good, too. I’ve seen pictures. And videos. They don’t even have ice powers.” He rubbed his thumb over the surface, smoothing over a slightly rougher patch.

“That may be true,” said Frostbite, “but, again, you just started, Great One. You have only had your powers for a little while. Give yourself some support.”

Danny shrugged. “I guess it isn’t something my life depends on, so I can relax about it.” He built up another layer of ice. “This is oddly therapeutic, and I don’t say therapeutic lightly. You know Jazz.”

“I do indeed,” said Frostbite, somewhat ruefully, head half-bowed.

Jazz could be a force of nature, even more so than ice powers.

He held the ice orb up to the light. It caught on the patterns he had placed there. Fractals were the easiest. He was hoping that if he got better, he’d be able to make real sculptures with patterns in them, instead of just orbs.

But, first, he had to master the orb. Just like how when drawing you had to do circles first. Circle. Orb.

Ooorb. Yep.

The controlled application of ice. The evenness of the internal patterns. The solidity, density, and durability.

His orb was… not very orblike, despite what Frostbite said. Frostbite probably thought he was making so flat on purpose.

Yeah. He was terrible at this.

He was having fun, though.

(Furnace)

“You’re taking up glass blowing?” asked Tucker, surprised.

“Yeah? Is there a problem?” asked Danny, reaching over to stop his friend from accidentally drawing a line of orange sharpie across his poster on the themes in Macbeth.

“No!” said Tucker, quickly. “But, like, why? It just seems… unlike you.”

“Exactly,” said Danny, nodding sharply. “It has absolutely nothing to do with my powers and nothing to do with my family. Plus, I had a coupon.”

“For glass blowing?”

“It was a groupon,” said Danny. “For making Christmas tree ornaments. I’m going to do it with Jazz.”

“But, Danny,” said Sam, looking over from where she was working on her own poster about Twelfth Night, “glass blowing, uh, involves a lot of heat.”

“Sure?”

“Danny, you have an ice core.”

“Ah,” said Danny. “Well. I’ve got to use that groupon. If it doesn’t work out, it’s only the once, right?”

“Oh my gosh,” said Danny, wringing sweat out of his t-shirt. “That was awesome!” He giggled to himself and peaked into the annealer again. “So awesome!”

“Uh huh,” said Jazz. Her attempts had been… rather less successful than Danny’s, partially because she was trying so hard to make them perfect. But she had managed a few little baubles, nonetheless. “I think these’ll all be good for the tree. Assuming we get one.”

“And it isn’t set on fire.”

“Oh, yeah, that was a bad year.”

He squeaked open the annealer again, only closing it when the instructor lightly scolded him. “They’re so terrible and lopsided,” said Danny.

“Hey,” said Jazz. “Mine are fine.”

“I know! I was talking about mine.”

“Ah, okay then. I agree.”

“You aren’t supposed to agree.”

“What, you want me to lie? And after you said it first?”

“No,” said Danny. “But you could be nicer about it.”

“I’m your sister, what do you expect?”

(Lung Capacity)

Danny let the last note trail off to complete silence. He stared apprehensively at the assembled student body. Curse Mr. Lancer’s extra credit talent show assignment. Any minute now, they’d start laughing at him.

What was he thinking? He’d just watched a few YouTube tutorials on breath control, and he thought he could come up here and sing in front of people? He was a moron, and—

Sam and Tucker started cheering wildly, followed rapidly by everyone else in the gym.

Okay. What?

Sam and Tucker, following impulses known only to overexcited teenagers, swarmed up the stage and attacking Danny.

“Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that?” demanded Sam.

“When did you learn?” asked Tucker, doing his level best to noogie Danny. “Why did you learn?”

“I wanted to improve my, you know, wail,” muttered Danny, “and all the breath control YouTube videos either had to do with diving or singing, so…” He did a little head wiggle to illustrate his point and also dislodge Tucker.

“I just can’t believe you kept this a secret from us,” said Sam.

Danny snorted and took a sort of half bow before attempting to leave the stage. “My dudes, I am basically made of secrets.”

“Encore!” screamed someone who clearly hated him.

“Oh, no,” said Danny, bracing himself against Sam and Tucker who were pushing him back into the middle of the stage. “No encore. I don’t do encores.”

But now people were chanting. Chanting.

“Come on, Danny,” said Tucker. “Just once!”

“Yeah, these are your fifteen minutes of fame!”

“I had those already! Multiple times!”

“That was Poindexter.”

“And now it can be you.”

Danny reluctantly took the microphone back off the stand.

(Letterhead)

The ink was thick, almost creamy, and paint-like. It was the ectoplasm mix, which also gave it a rich, rosy glow.

Danny was practicing ghost calligraphy. Well, one particular subset of ghost calligraphy, one which put special emphasis on the color of the letters as well as how they fit together.

It was a totally useless hobby. But it was… not exactly calming. No. He’d gotten way too angry about poorly formed arcs and crooked lines a couple of times. So. Yeah. Not calming. But… meditative. Meditative. And there was something satisfying about seeing the finished product.

Plus, if he framed his better finished work, they made for good presents for weirdo ghosts.

“You misspelled this,” drawled Ghost Writer.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Keuwii only has one kei.”

“This is only one kei.”

“What’s this, then?”

“It’s a flourish.”

“A flourish.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s a critic. If you don’t want it—”

“I didn’t say that.”

Danny raised an eyebrow.

Ghost Writer made a show of rolling his eyes. “Very well. Do you have one for my half-brother Randy. Perhaps one that says something along the lines of ‘idiot?’”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

(Babies on Fire)

“Danny,” said Jazz. “What are you doing up at three in the morning with a lighter? And… yarn? Is that yarn?”

“Dad wanted me to learn how to sew,” said Danny, “but I don’t like needles, not the sharp ones, anyway.”

“You get stitches every other week,” pointed out Jazz.

“Exactly,” said Danny, gesturing with the lighter. “So, I decided to look into, you know, knitting. And I was on knitting websites, and having, you know, a pretty good time with that, but then I found out about the babies.”

“The babies.”

“The babies,” said Danny, seriously. “And the blankets that are on fire. It depends on the yarn, you see. If the yarn is the wrong kind of yarn, if it catches on fire, the blanket can melt onto the baby. It’s terrible. Just terrible.”

“I kind of think that if the blanket is on fire you have bigger problems,” said Jazz. She took a step closer to her obviously insane younger brother. “Are you… testing the yarn?”

“I have to, Jazz. It’s for the babies.”

“Alright,” said Jazz. “You are going to limit it to just the yarn in our house, right?”

“But we don’t have any babies.”

“Okay, that didn’t answer my question, but, like…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Since we don’t have any babies here, why are you testing the yarn?”

“Because we might have babies here in the future,” said Danny. “Or I might knit something and give it to someone as a gift and then they give it to their baby. Oh my gosh, I’d feel so guilty.”

“I’d be more worried about the toxic waste in our basement,” said Jazz, which was exactly the wrong thing to say to a sleep-deprived half-ghost on the edge of an Obsession-fueled breakdown. Danny vanished in a blur, trailing yarn behind him. Jazz, who had only gotten up for a glass of water, cursed under her breath.

(Before the Ball)

“I’m so, so sorry, Dora,” said Danny, holding back something adjacent to laughter.

Dora laughed, more openly. “It is fine, Sir Phantom. Even now, you are better than my brother.”

“Am I really? Your brother? Who was raised to do this?”

“Well,” said Dora, letting go and stepping back out of the range of Danny’s feet. Which were, evidently, both left feet. “No, I’m afraid, but it is amusing to say, isn’t it?” She pressed her fingers to her lips, suppressing more laughter.

“Yeah, it is,” admitted Danny.

“In any case, you are far more graceful concerning your mistakes than he ever was. More gallant. A better representative of chivalry altogether.” She patted the shoulders of his shirt.

“Thanks,” said Danny. “Do you think that I’ll be, uh, ready in time for the party?”

“It’s more than a party,” said Dora. “You’re being officially knighted. You’ll be a peer of the realm.”

“Aha,” said Danny. “Yeah. I don’t… what? Really? That’s a thing?”

“You thought I was joking?”

“No,” said Danny, drawing out the word. He had, in fact, thought she was joking and only accepted her offer to teach him how to dance because he thought it sounded like fun and like it might take his mind off his problems. “Of course not. So. Dancing. Important. For first impressions?”

“Everyone already knows you, Phantom,” said the knight assigned as Dora’s bodyguard. “But dancing is surprisingly useful for swordplay. Which you need all the help you can get at.”

“You said I was getting better.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Ouch.”

(Time)

“I don’t have time for a hobby,” complained Danny through the Fenton Phones. “Maybe if the ghosts let up a bit—” He zapped one of said ghosts.

“Danny, are you fighting ghosts right now?”

“Yeah. That’s my point.”

“Oh my god, get off the phone.”

“No way! This is the only time I can call you, what with all of your classes.”

“Danny…” said Jazz, clearly exasperated. He took advantage of the lull in the conversation to blast a few more ghosts.

“I’m fine Jazz.”

“You are not fine. You are, like, ten thousand miles away from fine. When was the last time you even slept through the night?”

“Eh,” said Danny. “Recently?”

“You need to take more time for yourself.”

Danny sighed and captured the last ghost. “Maybe catching ghosts is my hobby.”

“Catching ghosts is your self-imposed penance for doing something that isn’t even your fault. Not a hobby.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to you on Wednesday, same time.”

“Danny, don’t—”

He hung up.

“Ugh,” said Danny. “I guess I need to find a hobby. Have to find time to find a hobby.”

“Perhaps I could be of help.”

“Ah!” Danny jolted forward, dropping his phone.

Clockwork gestured with one hand, and the phone dropped back into Danny’s hands from above.

“Ohhh my ghost, why are you here?”

“You were just talking about finding time. And now I’m here.”

“Good timing, I guess?”

“Only the best,” said Clockwork, evenly. “But we were speaking of hobbies. Might I suggest ice sculpture? Your friends in the Far Frozen would be more than happy to teach you...”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021

250 notes · View notes

kythed · 4 years

Text

circus mirrors & stereo hearts

sugawara koushi x reader

this one goes out to my new friend, @twat-101 :) it’s a bit long, but I hope you still like it ! sending lotsa love your way <3

synopsis: (y/n) is struggling with her mental health so her best friend suga-san invites her over to study. general chaos and dumbassery ensues.

warnings: some swearing, mentions of mental health struggles, suga’s tone deaf singing.

word count: 4,226

Koushi always kept his windows open. Always.

In the winter, this transformed his room into a tiny Antarctica, replete with stray snowflakes, but in the summer, it meant cool tradewinds cutting through the typically stifling heat, creating a little pocket of the ideal climate. You often found yourself there in these warmer months, perched on the corner of his bed, contently listening to him blithely gossip about his teammates or playing a giggly game of Connect Four rife with not so subtle cheating.

Today, a sunny August Saturday, was no different. Koushi sat cross legged on the carpet. Sprawled out across his pale blue comforter, which smelled of fresh linen and that familiar Old Spice he’d been wearing since the eighth grade, you listened to him recite a chapter from your history book, something about post World War II foreign policy. Struggling to remain attentive, however, you found yourself spiraling into those cheerless resignations of hopelessness that had been far too frequent for you lately.

“--which resulted in Europe’s economic recovery chiefly in terms of raw materials, food, and fuel. The Soviet Union soon attempted to replicate a similar plan but ultimately-- hey, (Y/N)?”

You blinked hard and sunk back into reality, turning onto your cheek to look Koushi in his big brown eyes full of rather matronly concern. “Hmm?”

“Do you know what we’re learning about right now?” he asked, sounding both amused and disapproving. A strand of grey fell in front of his face and he quickly blew it away, smiling slightly. “Because it seems like you’ve been zoning out for the last ten or so minutes. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but Mr. Shishido specifically said this chapter was going to be on the test.”

“Uh… something about muzzer Roosia?” you joked with an exaggerated accent.

Koushi rolled his eyes and flicked your forehead. You yelped and glared at him reproachfully. “We were talking about the Marshall Plan. The United States’ recovery aid program for Western Europe after wartime devastation.”

“Right, right, I knew that,” you protested as Koushi tugged on your forearms and you toppled off the bed, nearly landing right on top of him. With a soft laugh, he extracted his limbs from yours and plopped his head into your lap like he used to when you were kids, resting beneath the boughs of that little oak tree in his backyard, listening to a choir of cicadas croon under a late afternoon sun. The ghost of a grin flitted over your face as you looked back on those halcyon days of your childhood. Usually Koushi’s mom would come out onto the porch with a couple of already-melting lemon popsicles in hand, and the two of you would scramble out of each other’s embrace and tear towards her, breathlessly racing for a priceless reward of sweet smiles and sticky hands.

What you wouldn’t give to go back to that time of gleeful oblivion, before your world became characterized by that all too persistent self-consciousness and excruciating anxiety. What you wouldn’t give to once again feel worthy of Koushi’s innocent adoration…

“--(Y/N)!”

For the second time today, you shook yourself awake. Koushi gazed up at you, brows furrowed. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was asking if you needed to take a little study break. Obviously, you do. I swear, your attention span gets shorter every day.” He pointed somewhere behind you. “Mind grabbing my phone? It’s on the bed.”

You leaned over as far as you could without disturbing Koushi’s position, head still nestled in your lap, and swept your hand over the covers before it bumped into his phone, which you promptly snatched and dropped onto his stomach. He gave a soft “oomph” at the impact before pulling up his Spotify and selecting a playlist, the cover of which was a selfie of the two of you at last year’s spring carnival. A blurred sakura tree provided the perfect backdrop for your smiling faces pressed cheek-to-cheek to fit in the frame. Sugar dusted the corners of Koushi’s mouth, the last trace of the powdered donut you’d shared right before.

“What’s that? I don’t think I’ve listened to that one before.” You reached for the phone, but Koushi held it out just out of reach as music began to play, batting your hand away. “I look awful in that picture; you could’ve chosen something a little more flattering.”

“Oh, shush. You looked pretty that day, wearing that blue sundress with the little flowers on the hem… blue really suits you, you know.” Koushi smiled fondly at his screen, and you blushed despite yourself. “It’s a compilation of all our songs. I listened to this a lot last summer when you were in France with your family for a month. Whenever I missed you. You were off climbing the Eiffel Tower or making croissants and I was lounging around here, bored out of my mind and wishing you were home so we could be bored together.”

“You sappy bastard,” you said, though you really felt quite touched. “I didn’t even realize we had a song.”

“Not just a song,” he corrected. “Songs. Plural. Most of the songs we’ve ever listened to together, I reckon. Anything that reminds me of you, I put on here.”

“Why in the world would you do that?” you asked, aghast at his effort.

Koushi laughed at your surprise. “You’re my best friend, (Y/N). And believe or not, you mean a lot to me. I just like remembering the stuff we’ve done together.”

You nodded slowly, letting your fingers rest on his forehead and gently play with his grey locks. His eyes closed as you settled into a brief, comfortable almost-silence, tainted only by the soft, muffled melody trickling from tiny phone speakers. You cocked your head. “What song is this?”

“You don’t remember?” Koushi asked, sounding almost offended. He turned the volume up a few notches and held the phone closer to your ear.

Let's Marvin Gaye and get it on

You got the healing that I want

Just like they say it in the song

Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on

“I don’t know if--” you cut off as it dawned on you. “Wait… no way. This isn’t…?”

“It is.” Koushi laughed as your face flushed a vivid crimson. “Uchimura’s party.”

Though embarrassed, you grinned, remembering that night. “The song that played at her twelfth birthday while we were in the closet during seven minutes in heaven.”

“We were way too young for that dumb game,” Koushi said with a smile, shaking his head. “God, I was so nervous. That was my first kiss, you know.”

“It was mine too,” you admitted. You remembered sitting on the carpeted floor of Uchimura’s rather cramped closet, knees touching, just barely able to see the outline of Koushi’s face illuminated by the smallest sliver of light shining through a crack in the door. He’d leaned forward, taking your hand in his own small clammy one. “It was really just a peck, though. It might not have counted.”

“It counted,” said Koushi firmly. “Whenever I get asked about my first kiss, I say it was ours. I say it was the best one I’ve ever had, too.”

You shook your head with a soft laugh. “Now, I know that’s a lie. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”

“Neither did I,” agreed Koushi. He caught your eye, crinkling his nose cutely. “That’s what made it so sweet. It was innocent. I tasted your bubblegum chapstick on my lips afterwards.”

“Bubblegum chapstick, huh?” You rolled your eyes and poked him softly in the ribs. “I couldn’t look you straight in the eyes for like three weeks after that.”

“I remember. You kept running away whenever I tried to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not sure we would’ve even stayed friends if Ms. Miyato hadn’t partnered us up for the volcano project at the end of that month.” You recalled those afternoons spent in Koushi’s kitchen, newspapers covering every visible surface and a huge, paper-mache volcano resting on the dining table, splattered with orange and yellow paint and smelling strongly of Elmer’s glue and vinegar. Oftentimes, work sessions would dissolve into paint fights, staining your school uniforms with small, colorful hand prints.

“Nah,” said Koushi confidently. “I wouldn’t have let you go that easily.”

“Maybe you should’ve,” you said under your breath.

Koushi stared at you for a second, sighing. Then he reached up to grasp your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and softly stroking his thumb across your palm. “You know, it was Uchimura’s eighteenth last weekend. You didn’t come.”

“Yeah. I had to study.” That was a lie. You just hadn’t thought anyone really wanted you there. Uchimura had been a friend of yours for years, but she had plenty of other friends to celebrate with. Probably didn’t even notice you weren’t there…

“She asked me where you were,” Koushi continued. “I said I didn’t know because you didn’t answer my texts that night.”

“Sorry,” you said quietly, avoiding eye contact. “Studying.”

“On a Friday night?” You didn’t answer, and Koushi squeezed your hand. “I had to choose Daichi for my charades partner… do you have any idea how shit he is at charades? He flopped on the ground and started convulsing, so I guessed ‘epilepsy.’ Guess what the word really was.”

“What?”

“Orgasm. The word was orgasm. You’d think he could just execute a simple pelvic thrust and make a face, but no, he had to go ahead and act like my great uncle Kaito when he had that heart attack at his ninety-fifth birthday last year.”

You cracked a small smile, imagining Daichi violently wiggling on the floor like a fish out of water. “Sounds like I missed out, then.”

“You really did,” said Koushi, eyes twinkling. He suddenly got solemn. “I missed you. Would’ve been a million times more fun with you there.”

“I doubt it.” You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, smile fading. “I can be a real killjoy sometimes.”

“Not to me,” said Koushi. “Whenever you walk into the room, suddenly that’s the only room I wanna be in.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you swallowed thickly. “Koushi… why are you telling me this?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said simply. He took your hand again, the one that had been playing with his hair, and held it to his chest. You felt his heart beat erratically beneath your palm. “You’ve been avoiding all our friends in general.”

“That’s not true,” you protested, though your heart sank. He had noticed. You wished you didn’t have to drag him into all your problems. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy with what, (Y/N)? Homework? Our physics teacher came and talked to me at my locker after school, asking if you’ve been struggling with any personal issues, because apparently you haven’t been turning in your assignments.” Koushi glanced up at you. “It seems like you’ve just been locked away in your room whenever you’re not in class. Not doing work, not going out. Remember a couple weeks ago, when I asked if you wanted to go see that movie with me at the drive-in? You said you had a family dinner in town, but later I passed by on my bike and your bedroom light was on. And today, it took four separate phone calls before you finally picked up and I managed to invite you over… I’ve been worried.”

“Maybe I’m just changing,” you protested weakly. “That’s a thing that happens. People change.”

“I agree, you have been changing. Just not for the better.” Koushi squeezed your hand again, his skin warm on your own. “I haven’t seen you smile, really smile, for ages. You’re always faking these days. What’s going on?”

“I…” you trailed off, trying to think of some excuse. The last thing you wanted was for Koushi to see what was really going on inside your head.

“The truth, (Y/N).”

You relented, shoulders sagging. “Just been tired, I guess.”

“Tired of what?”

“Tired of…” Your eyes grew moist despite your best efforts and you fought to keep from choking on the sob rising up your throat.

“Tired of…?” he pressed on, eyebrow raised.

Your next words tumbled out in a rush. “Just tired of being me, okay? It’s like… it’s just like, whenever I look in the mirror… I don’t like what I see. I don’t like myself, so I don’t want to be me anymore. I’m so tired of it. And I feel like everyone else is, too. Everyone is tired of my shit, so I thought I’d just do you all a favor and disappear.”

Your words stunned Koushi into silence. He remained resting in your lap for a few long seconds before he felt something hot and wet roll down his cheek. A tear. But not his own.

He looked up just in time for another one of your tears to land on his face, right underneath his eye. Quickly, he sat up and tenderly cupped your face in his hands, gently brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “Oh, (Y/N)... c’mere. That’s such bullshit.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you hiccupped as he pulled you into his lap by your waist-- facing him-- and gingerly tucked your head into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this. It’s gross, I know.”

“It’s not gross,” said Koushi, fiercely hugging you to his chest. “It’s much better than watching you try to pretend like you’re fine. I don’t care if your snot gets on my shirt-- that’s a small price to pay. So long as I can be there for you right now.”

You cried harder, immense guilt racking your body at his inexplicable kindness. “I’ve been treating you terribly these past few months, but you’re still so good to me. Goddamnit, Koushi. I don’t deserve you.”

Koushi pulled you back by the shoulders, narrowed eyes searching your face, though tears continued to stream down your cheeks. “(Y/N). You don’t have to earn my love.”

“I-- love?” you asked, eyes wide. You snatched a tissue from Koushi’s bedside table and blew your nose loudly.

“Yeah,” he said firmly, without missing a beat. “I said it. I love you. And don’t ask if I mean in a friend way or a girlfriend way, because the answer is neither. I love you like you’re the person I wanna spend the rest of my life with. I don’t care if that means as, like, your husband or just as your best friend. Whatever I can get, I’m happy with, because I love you like you’re a part of me. Unconditionally. I thought you knew that.”

“Please, don’t say that,” you sobbed, covering your face with your hands. “I’m not good enough for you. I’m really not.”

Koushi pulled your hands away so he could look you in the eye. “What don't you understand about the term ‘unconditional love’? It’s unconditional. There is literally nothing you nor anyone else can say or do to change that. Unconditional love is not a feeling, it’s a choice, and I’ve made that choice. I’ve had nearly two decades to think about it, so now I’m telling you I will love you no matter what. I always have, alright? This isn’t exactly how I wanted to say it, but it’s true.”

You stared at him, disbelieving. You hadn’t known he’d felt this way. Of course, you two had been partners-in-crime your entire lives, and you couldn’t count the number of times he’d materialized at your side as soon as you were in the slightest bit of trouble. Whenever you were a dollar short at the canteen, he’d stuff a five in your hand and push you towards the front of the line. That time you went camping with his family and you forgot your sleeping bag, he’d given you his and spent the night shivering. He always carried an extra pen for you because yours often inexplicably ran out of ink in the middle of a test. He’d been there for every crush, boyfriend, and breakup, cheering you on and drying your tears when the time came. He’d been there when your pet dog died and you planned a funeral in your backyard, complete with a little cardboard headstone, holding an umbrella above your head when it began to rain but you weren’t done mourning. He’d just always been there when you needed him.

You’d tried to be there for him, too, because, as you had begun to realize, his pain was your pain and vice versa. That time when you were six and he’d lost his favorite stuffed animal (a giraffe) it had felt like you’d lost yours too. That day in junior high when he fell out of the oak tree trying to retrieve a stray frisbee and broke his arm, you swore you felt the same pain in yours. Last year when he got dumped outside the gym on Valentine’s Day and you found him sitting in a corner, trying to hide the fact he’d obviously been crying-- you’d stayed late to crack stupid jokes and eat the chocolate he meant to give to his girlfriend, because he deserved a girl who would eat the damn chocolate. Not stomp on his heart and leave it to bleed. I love you like you’re a part of me. You understood.

“It’s okay to not be okay sometimes, but it’s not okay to bundle it all up and bury it deep inside when you have someone right next to you wanting to help you bear that burden.” Koushi’s voice shook just slightly. “It just… it hurts to see you like this, okay? (Y/N), if you love me back, then let me help you. Let me be there for you. Please.”

You were silent for a moment, staring into his pleading eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes.

Then you took a deep breath and started laughing through the tears. You were sure you looked insane, puffy eyes, red nose, and mascara running down your cheeks, but it didn’t matter. “I do. I love you, too. I love you. I didn’t know I loved you before, but now I do, because if you were torn away from me that heartbreak would probably kill me. No, it would definitely kill me. And it would hurt like a motherfucker while it did.”

Koushi let out the breath he’d been holding then, after a brief pause, began to laugh with you as you laced your arms around the back of your neck. “Oh, yeah? Well, losing you would probably hurt like a father-fucker to me.”

“Is that worse than a motherfucker?” you asked, giggling at the ridiculousness of it all. Here you were, bawling on the floor of your best friend’s room while you confessed your love to one another and cussed each other out at the same time.

“For sure. It’s a million times worse than a motherfucker. It’s like, if something hurting like a motherfucker is the equivalent of getting shot by a Nerf gun, something hurting like a fatherfucker probably feels like getting run over by a tank.” Koushi intertwined his fingers with yours yet again and smiled.

“You’re a dumbass,” you said, but you laughed anyways as Koushi looked proud of himself.

“I know,” he said softly, affectionately. “But I’m your dumbass.”

You sighed and shook your head. “I’d love you to be. But you could still do so much better than me--”

“Will you stop saying that, already?” Koushi took your face in his hand, stroking his thumb right beneath your eye. “You’re the most radiant person I’ve ever met. Notice how I didn’t say ‘beautiful’ because the word beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it. Although you are that, too.”

“Oh, goodness. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again-- you’re so sappy.”

Koushi rolled his eyes with a smile. “Yeah, I am. You like it though.”

“You caught me,” you said as he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You leaned into it, savoring the warmth of his lips on your skin. “I do.”

“But really, (Y/N),” he said seriously. “It astounds me that you don’t realize that.”

“Don’t realize what?”

“That you’re cool! You’re so cool and fun and awesome. And a zillion other adjectives I could sit here and list out for hours. You’re the only person who can make me laugh when I cry, and you make the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted, and you’re a literal god at Mario Kart, and you’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever had the privilege to look into.” You flushed as Koushi thought for a moment, chewing on his lip before his eyes widened. “It’s kinda like a circus mirror, I think.”

“What?” You furrowed your brow.

“The way you see yourself is like someone looking into one of those circus mirrors. It makes you look too tall, or really squished, or just bent out of shape in general. And if that was the only mirror you’d ever looked into, you’d probably think that ugly, distorted reflection is how you actually look in real life. You can’t see yourself for how amazing you really are-- but everyone else can.”

“Well, aren’t you just full of relevant analogies today?” you teased. A circus mirror. Now that was something new. You had to give Koushi credit for the comparison-- it actually did kind of make sense.

“What can I say?” he said, puffing out his chest. “I’m a poet.”

“So I guess that would make you my real mirror then?” you offered shyly. Koushi looked confused for a second. “If the way I see myself is supposedly ‘distorted,’ then you can reflect to me how I supposedly really am.”

“Oh, yes!” he said happily. “I’m the mirror. I like that. Quit talking like you don’t believe me, though. You’re incredible. A little thick-skulled sometimes, yes, but incredible nonetheless.”

“It’s going to be hard for me,” you said quietly, gently running a hand through his hair. “Really hard. I haven’t liked myself for a long time.”

“I know. I know. But someday, you’ll be able to understand what a beautiful human being you are. I’m sure of it. I need you to promise you won’t give up until that happens.”

He held out his pinky for a pinky swear, something you two did frequently as children. You smiled and laced your pinky with his. “Alright. I promise.”

“Good.” Koushi stood up, brushed the wrinkles from his pants, and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you up. “Listen. Do you remember this song?”

His little playlist had been playing this entire time. You hadn’t noticed. You strained to catch the lyrics. “Turn it up a little, I can’t quite hear.”

...a stereo

It beats for you, so listen close

Hear my thoughts in every note

“Koushi.” A slow smile spread across your face. “Tell me this isn’t Stereo Hearts.”

“Oh, this is Stereo Hearts alright!” he responded gleefully. He took your hand and spun you around like a ballroom dancer, catching you before you tripped over his bedside table. “You remember when we--”

“When we performed it at the junior high talent show and got booed off the stage?” You giggled, remembering that awful night that was somehow hilarious in retrospect. “I still have nightmares about that.”

Koushi continued to swing you around in some sort of clumsy dance, pulling you this way and that while you laughed wildly. “It’s ‘cause you were such a shit singer.”

You gasped in mock offense. “No way! You’re a much worse singer than I am. At least I can carry a tune.”

Koushi just rolled his eyes and grabbed a hairbrush from his shelf, using it like a microphone. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and began to serenade you in his terrible, tone-deaf manner.

Make me your radio

Turn me up when you feel low

This melody was meant for you

Just sing along to my stereo

“God, you really do suck at this,” you said, but he just smiled and kept singing. You had to admit, it was sweet. As silly as the memory associated with the song was, it remained a nostalgic favorite even now. You had to join in a few times, just for memory’s sake.

I only pray you never leave me behind

Because good music can be so hard to find

Koushi sat down next to you and wound one arm around your waist, leaning close.

I take your hand and pull it closer to mine

Thought love was dead, but now you're changing my mind

You turned and leaned in too, nearly touching noses.

“Hey,” he said in an almost whisper. “(Y/N) (L/N), I love you.”

“Hey,” you whispered back, gaze flitting down to his lips and back up again. “I love you, too, you sappy bastard.”

...so sing along to my stereo

“I know.” He closed the remaining inch of distance. Your hand tangled itself in his hair while his tugged your body a little closer.

The kiss was almost as good as the one in Uchimura’s closet all those years ago. Almost.

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #anime #sugawara #sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader

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linzeyzarcone · 3 years

Text

Till the End of the Line: Chapter 1: My Crazy Messed Up Family

A/N: Okay guys, I’ve decided to post chapter 1 of the Fanfiction I’m currently writing. I hope you guys like it. I haven’t written anything in a very long time and this is the first thing I’ve made in years and I’m proud of it, so enjoy and if you want to let me know what you think, I always love to hear it!

I do not own any characters I just use them for fun and the story is my original idea. Picture was found on Pinterest. I don’t know who made it, but all rights go to them.

Matilda watched the puffy cloud closely through the oven door. She had just spent the last three hours trying to perfect her soufflé recipe. After the twelfth time trying, she finally got it down to the point of baking. She watched it intently, trying not to breathe too hard as she was scared it would fall on her.

“Tilly? Are you in here?”

She heard the voice of her best friend, before she saw who it was. “I swear to god Steve, if you do one thing and make this soufflé fall, I will kill you.”

Steve laughed at her as she turned her attention back to her baking soufflé. “Easy Till, I won’t do anything drastic. I promise.”

“Good, because I’ve been trying to get this for hours now, and it’s almost done. If it doesn’t come out right, I’m going to be so mad.”

Steve grinned and leaned against the kitchen counter watching her stare through the oven door. Matilda was a perfectionist when it came to her baking and cooking, and when she was trying out a new recipe, she did it till she got it right. A timer dinged and Matilda slowly backed away from the oven door to grab the oven mitts. She cautiously opened the door and took out the metal baking tray that held the eight ceramic molds with her precious souffles. She placed them on the counter in front of Steve and smiled.

“I did it!” She beamed from ear to ear as she looked from the pan to Steve, back to the pan.

“Good job, Till.” Steve said, pushing himself off of the counter and throwing an arm over her shoulders. “So, when do we get to try it?’

Matilda hit Steve playfully in the side as she went to grab some silverware. “Since you managed to not let my soufflés fall, I guess I can let you have the first try.”

She handed a fork to Steve and she pulled a white mold from the sheet pan. Steve dug in first and took a bite. “Let me know what you think. I’m making them for Tony’s party next weekend so they need to be exact.”

Steve moaned in delight as he took another bite. “Till, this is amazingly good!”

She felt herself blush at the compliment as a small smile graced her lips. She looked down and took a bite for herself. “It’s good, but I think my bechamel needs more nutmeg in it. It’s lacking that humph that it needs.”

Steve rolled his eyes and smirked. “Matilda, take a compliment. These are amazing and everyone at the party is going to love them!”

“I can so take a compliment! That doesn’t mean that I won’t obsess over it though.” She smirked at Steve as he gave her a look.

“Your food is exquisite, trust me. You’ve made most of the team work extra-long in training most nights just to work off your food. You feed us too well.”

Matilda smiled. “Yeah, yeah. I guess that’s why Tony keeps me around.”

Steve gave her a small shove. “Come on Till, you know your food is good.”

“I know. Thanks, Steve.” She took another bite of soufflé. “Was there something you needed when you came in here? I kind of distracted you with my baking.”

“Mhmm.” He agreed, finishing the mouth of food that he was chewing. “We're being called on a mission, and Tony wanted me to come find you for a small debriefing between the two of you.”

“Another mission, huh? Where to this time?”

“Somewhere in Europe. I think Tony said Sokovia? They think they have a hit on Loki’s scepter.”

“Oh, goody.”

She didn’t like talking about what happened to New York. Thor’s ‘adopted’ younger brother was a touchy subject for her. Though she barely knew the god of mischief, she seemed to feel like something was off. She listened to the reports of what happened, and accidentally overheard the encounter between him and Tony in the main living room, what happened to him just didn’t seem right. Natasha teased her for weeks after, claiming that she was only sticking up for him because Loki winked and smirked at her on his way out of Stark tower. Matilda denied it, but at the end of the day, she did sort of harbor a crush for Loki, though that crush had nothing to do with her stance on the matter. Since Matilda could remember she always had this sort of gift where she could tell if something wasn’t right or true. Her father used to say that it's what made her special.

“The sooner we get to the scepter, the quicker it's out of the hands of Hydra.”

“Agreed. Alright, I’ll go see what Tony needs.” Matilda threw her fork in the sink and untied her apron. “Steve, please make sure everyone can get to try them. I know you’re a growing super soldier, but sharing is caring.”

Steve chuckled and put his hands up in defense as he slowly backed away from the counter. Matilda smiled, threw her apron onto a nearby chair, and walked out of the kitchen. She headed down a long hall to the elevator. She pressed the up arrow on the door and waited for the ding. When the elevator doors opened, she got inside and pushed the 90 button on the panel. She would try Tony’s main lab first.

The Stark Tower had 94 floors all together, not including the two underground garages. The first 50 were just his normal, everyday operational work that supported his company. The next 44 floors were kept separate for him and the Avengers. The main kitchen where Matilda liked to work was on the 51st floor. Tony’s party rooms were the 68th and 69th floors, both floors being completely open and the 69th floor having a full bar which stretched almost the entire length of the room. The floor right below, 67, was where the jets usually landed from missions. His entertainment room was located on the 84th floor, and bedrooms for all Avengers, Tony, Pepper, and herself were located on floors 80 through 82. Lastly, the training rooms and gym were located on the 63rd floor, but she was never allowed on the actual training part of the floor, thanks to Tony. The other 17 floors were still a mystery to her. She recalled Tony mentioning a floor being his “beach” floor, for when the New York winters were just too wintery for him. Matilda chuckled at the thought of Tony pretending to be somewhere warm, when he could so easily jump in one of his jets and go.

The door dinged again and Matilda got off. She walked down a short hallway and turned. A wall of glass overlooking Tony’s lab was on full display. There was a set of small stairs at the end of the hallway that led down to the doors of the lab. Tables which held holographic computers were everywhere around the enormous lab. Displayed on these computers were everything from new suit ideas to a game of chees he hadn’t finished playing with Jarvis. Cases filled with all of Tony’s latest and greatest suits lined the walls. ACDC was blaring through the speakers as she knocked on the door.

“Tony!” Matilda called, waving her hands trying to get Stark’s attention.

She entered the lab as Tony turned around to greet her with one of his famous Tony Stark smiles. “Hey there, kiddo!”

“Hey, Tony. Steve said you wanted to see me?”

Tony nodded his head and went to look for the remote that controlled the stereo. Once he found it, he pressed a button and the lab went silent.

“Glad to see the old man followed instructions for once. Fury informed us that there’s a hit on Loki’s scepter. We’re going in two days to try and receive it.”

“Okay, and you wanted to tell me this because you want me to come with you as back up?” she joked, knowing full well that Tony would never let that happen.

“Ha, you're funny, kid. Nice try. No, it’s because we might be gone a few days, and I need you here to take care of things. Start to decorate, make party arrangements, I don’t know, plan the menu, but you are staying here, capisce?” He pointed a screwdriver at her, eyebrows raising in anticipation of her answer.

“Yes, Tony, I will stay here and defend the fort.” She rolled her eyes.

“Good. Everyone is meeting here tomorrow night so we can leave early the next day. You’re going to be my welcome host.” He smirked as he leaned back against one of the tables.

She scoffed and threw her arms up in defeat. “Fine, I can do that. Anything else you need to debrief me on?”

“No, you are free to continue whatever you and Capsicle were doing before.”

Matilda laughed and turned to leave. “I swear, Tony, you have nicknames for everyone.”

“Yup!” She heard him call back, as Highway to Hell started to blast through the speakers again.

The next day, Matilda did as she was told and spent most of her day sitting on the couch in the main hall waiting for the team to show up. Clint was the first one to arrive. He hugged her immediately and asked how she was doing. When she had caught him up on all the latest he went on his way to his room to put his things down. Next was Bruce. Tony welcomed him when he arrived and quickly rushed him over to his lab. Bruce attempted to wave at Matilda as he left. Then came Thor. Tony had installed a “landing pad” for Thor out on the balcony so he wouldn’t destroy anything else when he came through the Bifrost.

“Ahh, Lady Matilda, how wonderful to see you.”

“Hello, Thor. How are you this evening?” He made her feel like she was five years old again playing princess. The formalities exchanged between the two felt natural.

Thor stomped in through the balcony door and down a few stairs into the main room where the few couches were. He placed Mjolnir down on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch next to Matilda. “I am quite well, thank you for asking.”

“I thought I heard a noise.” Steve appeared from the elevator and strolled over to where Thor and Matilda were sitting.

“Ahh, Rogers, good to see you,” Thor said, standing up to give him a brief hug.

“You too, Thor. How is everything on Asgard?” Steve asked, both men sitting back down on the couch.

“Well, my mother and brother are dead, and I think Jane is breaking up with me after I gave up the throne for her. Other than that, just fine.” Thor blurted out rather quickly. Matilda thought she could hear Thor begin to choke up towards the end.

Steve and Matilda shared a look and then turned back to Thor, who was starting to rock back and forth. “I’m uh…sorry to hear that.” Steve’s hand went to rub the back of his neck, eyes darting around the room avoiding Thor’s.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you are going through. Do you need anything?” Matilda asked, placing a hand on Thor’s knee.

“Oh no, I’m fine. Thank you though, Lady Matilda, it’s very kind of you. I think I need a drink.” Thor got up from the couch and headed up to the bar, leaving the two of them alone.

“Okay then,” Steve said with a laugh, rubbing his palms on the top of his thighs.

They heard a ding of the elevator and looked to see who it was. Natasha stepped out of the elevator in a dark green T-shirt and dark-wash jeans.

“Hey guys, what did I miss?” Natasha said, seeing the look on Steve’s face.

Matilda smiled and got up from the couch to go hug Natasha. “Nat, you’re finally here!”

Natasha placed her bags down and pulled Matilda into her “Hey Tilly, how’s my favorite girl doing?” To get a better look at her, Natasha held her out at arms length, hands running up and down her upper arms.

“I’m good, excited to see you and have the team all back together again. I’ve missed you guys.”

“I know, I’ve missed you too.”

They hugged again, and when Matilda pulled away, she focused her attention back on Steve, who was openly staring at Natasha. Matilda smirked to herself at the dumb look on his face. Ever since the mission Natasha and Steve had shared, right as S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, the two were always so flirty around each other. Steve, being the cool, laid back person he was, seemed to revert back to that small boy from Brooklyn.

“Hey, Steve.” Natasha said slowly, pronouncing every syllable in his name.

“Hey, Nat.”

Matilda noticed the drop in Steve’s voice, and the slight color that was creeping up his neck and cheeks.

The three of them stayed in an awkward silence for what felt like forever, until Matilda couldn’t take it anymore, “Well, I think I’m going to go check on Thor.”

Matilda started to head for the stairs that lead up to the bar.

“What’s wrong with Thor?” Natasha asked, walking towards the couches.

“Family problems.” Steve and Matilda said in unison, as they both pointed finger guns at one another.

“Oh, sorry to hear.” Natasha brushed past Steve and sat down on the couch beside him, seductively crossing her legs. Matilda could see Steve swallow hard.

“Uh…Till, you want me to come with you?”

Matilda felt bad for the guy, she knew how much he liked Natasha. All he needed was a boost. So, what better time than the present to do so?

“No, I'm okay Steve. Stay here and catch up with Nat.” She gave him a suggestive wink as she hurried up the stairs to go check on the depressed god.

When she got to the top, Thor was sitting at the bar, glass bottles scattered around him. She could see he was working on one of Tony’s more expensive rums.

“Lady Matilda, have you come to have a drink with me?” Thor's voice was slightly slurred.

Matilda chuckled lightly. She looked just to the right of him and saw a six pack of the Scotch Ale Tony always kept on hand gone, and a bottle of rum empty too. Thor was currently working on a second bottle. She said a silent prayer that he had only grabbed the rum and not Tony’s good Scotch because she never would have heard the end of it..

“Yeah, I guess I will.” She leaned over the bar and grabbed a shot glass. “It beats being a third wheel on the awkward train that is happening downstairs.”

Thor nodded in agreement and poured the amber liquid into her shot glass. She clinked her glass against the bottle Thor was holding and downed the rum.

“Love sucks.” Thor said.

Matilda thought about all the love she had lost over the years; first her mother at an age where she couldn’t even remember, then her father only a few years ago. She also thought of what all the love had gotten her too. Tony, her fathers life long friend, had taken her in after her father had passed and because of that she gained a new family with him and Pepper and the Avengers. It did come with cons too though. How many boys had she fallen head over heels for, that in the end were just using her to get to Tony and their favorite Avenger? After the fourth time it happened, she swore that she would never put her heart through that again. Poor Tony was always there to help her pick up the pieces. For all that it was worth, she had to agree with Thor, love did indeed suck.

“Yes, Thor, yes it does.” With that she took the bottle out of Thor's hand and poured herself another shot, downing it with a wince.

Later that night, Tony had called a meeting with everyone to debrief on what was expected the following day for the mission. Everyone gathered in the living room, Matilda claiming the armchair that let her see the room perfectly. Thor stood over by the wall, refusing to sit along with Banner. Clint sat alone on one of the couches, and Steve and Nat took the other one opposite him. Matilda noticed that they were sitting a bit closer together than they normally would have, and Natasha's crossed legs kept bumping into Steve's knee. She snickered to herself over the subtle gestures that the two were doing, trying to hide what was clearly going on between the two of them.

Tony sat on the arm of her chair as he started on the debrief of what was expected the next day. They would land in an unmarked location just East of Sokovia. There they would head towards the fort where a man named Striker was hiding, who was last seen experimenting on Loki's scepter. After that, Matilda tuned out most of the tactical plan, instead, concentrating on the subtle actions between Nat and Steve.

“Everyone got it?” Tony asked, clapping his hands together.

Matilda jumped, and everyone nodded in agreement. Tony laughed at her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You got the party details in order yet, kid?”

“Uh...yeah. I’m just finishing up on the menu, and I need a drink menu made. Then I can hand both over to the kitchen staff.” She looked up at Tony, hopeful that he would help her out with the kind of refreshments he wanted to serve his almost 70 guests.

“You can ask Pepper, I’m sure she has a wine and spirits list for the other parties that we’ve thrown.”

“What’s on the menu, Till?” Natasha asked, her hand slipping to Steve's shoulder as she threw her arm over the back of the couch.

“Well, I’m working on a soufflé recipe that I was hoping to have served as an h'orderve, along with prosciutto wrapped figs, an antipasto skewer and my favorite, pigs in a blanket. I’m still working on a desert round.”

Everyone laughed. “I just love how you go from five star foods, to small cocktail weenies in crescent dough.” Clint was beaming at the thought of it.

Matilda loved Clint for that reason, he was the most laid back, cool guy that she knew. She was one of the few people who knew about his wife and kids, outside of Natasha, and she was very proud of the fact that he trusted her with that knowledge.

“I can attest to the soufflé thing. Till, let me try one earlier, and it was amazing.” Steve was like a proud dad or brother when it came to Matilda’s cooking. Since she first came to live with Tony, Steve was the first person she really got close too. He was one of her best friends and she honestly didn’t know what she would do without him in her life.

“Alright, so everything is settled then. Till finishes the party details, and we go get Loki's scepter.”

“Go team!” Matilda said, throwing a fist up in the air.

Everyone laughed as they started to disperse. Matilda figured that everyone would either go do some last minute training or go to bed. She stayed in the chair for a few more minutes as she watched the room empty until the only ones left were her and Tony.

“Go get some sleep, kid. You look tired.” He stroked the top of her hair, making Matilda's eyes close at the comforting feeling.

“Yeah, I think I’m heading there now. If I can even sleep.”

“We’ll be fine Till, we always are. Now go.” Tony leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Matilda got up and did as she was told, heading toward her room. Once there, she changed into an old T-shirt and sleeping shorts and crawled in bed. She was always worried the night before a mission. Tony and everyone had a likely possibility of not coming home, and she didn’t know if she could handle losing any of them. Tony and her father had been best friends growing up. When Tony took over the Stark company after his parents died, he hired her dad to work for him. In the early days of his career as Iron Man, he was rarely in the labs of his business, having Pepper run everything. She mostly ran it from her office, and Matilda’s dad was left in charge of the everyday work. One day, a test went wrong and her father was caught in the crossfire of it. After hearing the news of what happened, Tony felt horrible. She was thirteen when she came to live with him . Tony swore to her that he would take care of her, no matter what happened. She loved Tony for all that he had done and was still doing for her. When she was sixteen years old, Tony had asked her if it was okay for him to adopt her. That was one of the happiest times in her life.

Five years later, she had gained more of a family then she would have ever guessed she would get. She was so blessed to have Tony and the Avengers in her life that it didn’t even matter how much of misfits they were. A god, a scientist, an archer, an assassin, a frozen 90-year- old captain, and a playboy genius. They were her family and she wouldn’t trade them for the world.

#bucky x female reader #buckybarnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #steve rogers #mcu #tony stark #black widow #fanfic #fanfiction #winter solider fanfiction #i'm with you till the end of the line

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

What a Time to be Alive - Diego x reader

Chapter 4- The Majestic 12

Summary: Although, your wounds are able to heal instantaneously, Diego’s are not and for that he payed the price. In the aftermath of getting shanked, you give Diego some much needed TLC. Now you, Diego, and Five, are on the hunt at some gala for any valuable information, regarding the activities of Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

If you want tagged just hit me up. Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @fandomoverlord221 @la-vie-en-amour1 @2cuteforyourlies @thatfandombitcch

Sitting next to Diego on the couch, you rip off his bandage, intently listening to Five ramble on about the Vanya situation as you attend to his healing injury.

“So what you just let her go.” Asks Diego surprised.

“Well, Vanya had a lot to process.” He says matter-of-factly. “She’ll come around. I know she will.”

“What about the guys that went after her?” You ask him, while ripping off some medical tape for Diego’s new bandage.

“The Swedes?”

“Yeah, how do you know they won��t go after her again?” You question, taking a cup of hot coffee from Elliot.

“We don’t.”

“Do you have any idea who sent them?” Lila asks Five, taking a sip of coffee from her own cup.

With a knowing smile, Five answers her, “Oh, I have my suspicions.” You guessing it probably has to do with Five’s colorful background coming back to bite him. “But right now, our priority is finding Dad and getting answers, cause everything else depends on it.”

“Which for the record, I found him already.” Diego adds, you hold in a chuckle at how well that interaction went.

“And then let him go before we could have a meaningful conversation.” Sasses Five with that stupid I-know-more-then-you smirk.

“He stabbed me.” Says Diego bluntly, trying to make a point as to why things didn’t go well.

“I’m surprised he waited this long, Diego. We’ve all had the urge.” Jabs Five yet again. Causing you to snort and start laughing out loud along with Lila and Elliot. Getting an offended look from Diego, you turn you face to give him a kiss on his cheek in an attempt at lessening his hurt pride.

“Good thing I know where Dad’s gonna be tonight.” Five says, handing Diego a piece of folded paper.

Reaching across the small coffee table to grab it, he sits down next to you again, holding up the parchment for you to both read. Leaning in, you look at its contents, as Five continues to talk. “Found it at his office while he was busy stabbing you.” Five says sarcastically, as Diego fake laughs.

“Hoyt Hillenkoetter and the Consultant General of Mexico in Dallas cordially invite you to a gala.” Diego reads.

“Whoa, wait. Hoyt Hillenkoetter? Are you serious?” Questions Elliot, apparently knowing something none of you four do.

“You know him?” You ask curious.

“We should go, says there’s gonna be a seafood tower.” Lila adds randomly, having looked it over before, when Five wasn’t looking. You nod to her, looking at Diego. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a suite.” You wink, earning a warm smile from him.

“No, Hillenkoetter is...is one of the Majestic Twelve.” Elliot says slightly nervously.

“The hell are the Majestic Twelve?” Questions Diego. As you quickly throw an orange slice in his mouth.

“It’s a...a secret committee. Uh, scientists, militarily, uh, deep state.” Rambles Elliot, walking over to his desk looking for something he continues. “No one really knows what they do.”

Scoffing you add, “Huh, they sound like a blast.”

“Wait, so they’re government?” Diego grunts, trying to sit up better.

“Shadow Government. Yeah, Kennedy was the first President to try to push ‘em into the light, but these guys are not to be trifled with. Oh, here we go. Ah, right here.” Elliot says bringing a photograph over to the four of you. “That’s Hoyt right there.” He points.

Examining the picture you notice only 11 men. “Weird there’s only 11 of them.”

“Well, that’s because they’ve only identified 11 so far.” Adds Elliot.

“Who’s the twelfth?” Diego asks looking at the photograph. You look to Five, raising your eyebrow in that you-thinking-what-I’m-thinking mutual understanding, him doing the same. Oh boy, here we go.

——

Arriving at the gala dressed in your best attire, a slightly uncomfortable dark blue dress and flats. You, Diego, Five, and Lila, hide behind a short brick wall type structure. Each of you peaking your heads over the edge to get a better view of the place full of richly dressed people. Quickly Diego climbs up and over the stones, you three following suit and crouching close to the nearby parked cars.

“So, what’s the plan guys?” Asks Lila quietly.

“Don’t answer that.” You warn Diego. Who ignores you, trying to be the smart tough guy once again. “We infiltrate, we identify, we extract. Double time.”

“I feel like I’m in a spy movie.” You whisper to yourself.

“What the hell’s he talking about.” Lila asks from behind you turning her question to Five, who’s crouched at the rear of the pack.

“Find the old man and get out fast.” He says smartly.

“That’s what I said.” Diego looks back at them, like what he said before wasn’t obvious enough.

“Alright 007, lets go.” You say, touching is shoulder and pushing ever so slightly for emphasis. Turning forward he crouch walks to the next car, you trailing him. Suddenly your ears catch the conversation between Lila and Five a couple cars over. You raise your eyebrow at Five’s untrustworthiness towards Lila, amused by their little conversation. Now that you think about it, you have assumed some odd shit could be up with her, but you’ve been playing along this whole time. Not wanting to state the obvious yet, you needed more time and suspicious proof first of any false behavior.

——

Walking into the wealthy looking establishment, you take a drink off a waiters tray. Giving it a sniff, before taking a small sip enjoying the fizzy liquid sliding down your throat. “I don’t see Dad anywhere.” Diego says, looking around the room full of wealthy strangers.

“Just keep an eye out for the Majestic Twelve. I got the upstairs.” Five tells you three, alcoholic beverage already in hand. “Diego, try not to do anything stupid. Y/N, watch him.” He adds, walking away. As Lila walks off towards the seafood table.

You sniff the air, trying to catch a familiar scent, maybe if old Reggie really is here, you’d be able to smell his stupid suffocating cologne. A second later trumpets start to play to a well known tune. You suddenly feel the urge to dance, excited now that your old dance partner’s back. Walking through the crowd while pulling on Diego’s tie, you lead him to the dance floor.

Diego pulls you to him, trying to gain control of the situation unfolding before is very eyes. The two of you are almost eye to eye with each other, as you hold onto one another closely. As the mariachi band continues to play, Diego twists you around, your back now to him. He lets his hands trail down your sides without so much as single protest from you, you’re enjoying this way to much. You twirl grabbing his hands before he can go any lower. Your hands wander up to rest on his shoulders, his comfortably caressing your lower back. “Someone’s got moves.” You look up at him stating the obvious.

“Well the old man did insist on making us take those ballroom dancing lessons.” He looks at you lovingly before continuing, now mimicking Sir Reginald’s voice. “One never knows when the paso doble will be the difference between life and death...” “children” You both smile, saying the last part together as Diego dips you.

“My turn.” You say while giving him a mischievous grin. Pulling yourself up with Diego still holding you close, you take the lead. Surprising him in the process, much to your amusement.

“What are you doing?” He asks, taken aback at your sudden dominance.

“Just follow my lead.” You saying smiling sweetly at him.

“Uh, Y/N, no. I’m the man here.” Diego says dazed by the abrupt change in the dance positioning, you smirk at him, thoroughly enjoying how you’ve taken him off guard.

Grabbing his hands you smoothly twist him around so his back is now to you. Using your left hand you touch his cheek, hastily bringing his undivided attention straight to your own beaming face. Quickly giving him a kiss before pushing his face away once more, twirling him around, and positioning yourself back to how you two first began. With his right hand on your hip and your left on his shoulder, you two holding hands and swaying to the music. He pulls you in closer to his chest, your faces inches apart as you turn your head to laugh into his broad shoulder. You can feel him kiss the side of your face as he smoothly sways you to the music, he follows your gaze as you adjust yourself to look up into his chocolate eyes.

“You have no idea how glad I am to have found you again.” He gives you another chaste kiss in reply.

“Sorry you had to wait for my ass for so long, if I would have known you were in Dallas.” You let out a small laugh, biting your lip to hold in a smile as he continues to sway you around to the festive music.

“Instead you got yourself arrested within the first day of being here. I don’t know if I should be impressed or not....Diego Hargreeves you are truly...something.” His face breaks out into an embarrassed smile as he leans his head down onto your shoulder to hide his redness, only you would be able to make him lose his cool, and so easily at that. He picks his head up once again to stare adoringly into you bright eyes, his eyes flickering down to your parted lips for a fraction of a second. Your face breaks out into a Cheshire Cat-like grin at the absolute wonderful cuteness of Diego.

“So how’d I do last night? Since you know, it’s been awhile for you. I think I still got it Y/N.” He says with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, you roll your eyes at his implication of last nights love-making, he’s so bold.

“Satisfactory.”

“Just satisfactory? Babe I think I was really doing a great job. You sure looked like you agreed at the time.”

“Okay fine. You were incredibly stunningly marvelous, a perfect 10 out of 10. The review says she would do it again.” He smiles in deep satisfaction at your praising of his more intimate talents. You just give him a slight half annoyed eye roll, only you two would be scoring each other on how well your I-missed-you sex was.

When you look up at his face again, he isn’t smiling anymore, attention now snagged by some shinier fish. You twist your neck right, following his distracted gaze. “It can’t be.” He whispers in disbelief, breaking away from you to go see... Grace. Letting him go, you silently follow him, hiding behind a white pillar as you eves drop onto their conversation. Holy shit, Grace was a real person and she was Sir Reginald’s frickin date, you thought to yourself almost as shocked as Diego probably is. You listen more intently, and cackle at the comment Grace gives Diego about being a little odd. You’re definitely not wrong about that, you’d like to tell her.

Watching Grace walk past you and towards who knows where, you come out from behind the pillar to face Diego, who’s standing there with his arms folded, looking rather lost. “Well that went swimmingly.” You quip.

Diego breaks from his thoughtful trance, rolling his eyes as he walks on over to you, taking your bent arm in his. “I guess we should probably find Lila, huh.” He adds. “Perhaps we shall.” You say in a posh English accent, giving him a wink as he lets out a breathy laugh at your theatrics.

——

Leaning against the wall, watching as the other party-goers make boring conversation with each other. You push yourself off the marble surface and begin walking towards Diego, who’s obliviously looking at a chandelier like an intrigued child. Right on cue, you hear a thud coming from up above you and then aggressive shuffling around. Five is the strongest guess most likely, and someone else. Hearing a quiet “Oh, shit.” Coming from Five you decide it’s probably best to not leave him hanging.

Turning to Diego, while also unknowingly gaining the attention of Lila. You whisper yell for him to follow you up the stairs to Five’s rescue. Racing up the steps in record time with Diego not far behind you. You look to your right, noticing in surprise that Five’s in a bit of a scuffle with one of the blonde Swedes that tried shooting you, Diego, and Lila earlier. Stopping for a brief moment, not entirely sure what to do as this is indeed very odd. You hear footsteps quickly approaching from behind you, smelling the scent of sweat and anger in its wake.

A second later you hear Diego yell out your name in distress as your hair is pulled back and a belt is tightly wrapped around your windpipe. Getting dragged back down the hallway, completely taken off guard, you struggle to breath as your eyes go wide in astonishment. Your gaze shifts to Diego, as he angrily sprints to you, charging at the taller Swede who’s about to gut punch you with brass knuckles. Fuck.

Bracing yourself, ready to get the wind knocked out of you. Diego heroically pushes the guy into the wall, punching him hard in the face. Your throat is suddenly released, only for the shorter Swede to turn you around and crack you across the side of your head with his belt. Kicking you out of the way and across the floor you tumble, your head stinging in pain. Dazed, from the not even 20 second violent actions you just got shoved into. You get up from the floor feeling a hot liquid running down the side of your face. Touching your temple, you pull your hand away to unveil deep red blood coating your fingers. This bitch is dead.

You look up instantly to watch in dismay as Diego is currently getting his ass whooped by the two pissed off Swedes. The one that was previously choking you, is now suffocating Diego with that fucking leather belt. After getting punched in the stomach by brass knuckle Swede, Diego kicks him to the ground, still struggling with the first who’s still doing his damn best to suffocate him. Grabbing a knife previously hidden in his pocket, he throws it with his free hand. Missing his target in the heat of the moment, which was intended to hit the other large Swede that’s beating the shit out of Five further down the hallway.

Fuming, with the rage of a bull at the manhandling you just unwillingly received. You rush forward throwing your right arm around the blonds throat that’s currently choking Diego. Pulling down hard, the Swede releases him, now struggling to breath from your own violent attack. The tables have turned, bitch. You aggressively throw him into the wall, kicking him hard in the stomach as you send him thrashing onto the carpeted floor.

Turning quickly to the sound of pained grunts, you watch as Diego gets punched in the stomach with the brass knuckles you so marvelously avoided. You catch sight of Lila, who looks to both of you before turning to Five and running to his aid. Alright then.

Only letting yourself get distracted for a moment, you turn back to your new little fighting buddy, who’s now standing and looking very enraged.

“Let’s dance.” You hiss at him with a bitter smirk, clenching your fists.

Hearing the sound of glass breaking behind you, you ignore it. As you face the blonde Swedish assassin, dodging a heated swing, you bring your left arm up to sucker punch him right in the guts. You turn around swiftly to face him again, only to receive a hard blow to your shoulder. He’s good, but not good enough. He goes to kick you in the legs, missing by an inch as you pull back just in time. Realizing he still has his belt clutched in his right hand, he cracks it at you with lightning speed. Time slows for a second as your senses begin to take over, giving you better reaction time. You turn to the right and watch as the shining silver of the belt buckle shows you your own distorted reflection. Catching the makeshift weapon mid-throw, you grab it tightly with your left fist. Pulling him towards you in the process, you then reach out and tightly seize his throat with your right hand. Throwing the leather belt off to the side and growling fiercely at his surprised face, you lift him up an inch or two off the ground. Struggling to breath and find his footing again, he suddenly shoots his arms up directly into your right one, that’s currently strangling him. You drop him, yelping in surprise at the sudden pain. Quickly gaining his bearings back, he jumps up on the wall for support, as he speedily throws himself at you, sucker punching you right in the cheekbone. Fucking ouch. Stumbling back from the aggressive hit to your face, you both begin intensely throwing punches at each other, getting a hit in here and there, while also managing to block most of his advances. Who knew you’d be reuniting with your lost lover and fighting Swedish assassins at a gala this week. Things have been weirder, you think, focusing back on the task at hand, literally. Grimacing in pain at the hit you just received to your shoulder, you jump up, kicking him into the wall and leaving a small dent. Slightly disoriented, he gets up again, blocking another one of your knee thrusts heading straight for his junk. Sometimes you fight dirty, okay. Throwing your left arm up to block a hit, you take this opportunity to twist yourself around to the right in a quick circle. Jutting your right elbow directly into the Swedes temple, knocking him unconscious. That’s right fucker, nighty night.

Your ears tune promptly to the sound of broken glass yet again, and the sound of Diego’s grunts mixed with that of the angry Swede he is currently fighting. You watch as they fight dirty, picking up whatever objects they could get their hands on as they continue to beat each other up down the hallway. Knocking blondie out with an impressive hit to his head, Diego looks out the window spotting Reginald and Grace standing outside ready to go home. You catch where his eyes are looking, observing the scene of them together for yourself.

You hear Diego whisper a soft, “Dad” before turning to you, worriedly looking at the stream of blood coming from the side of your hairline.

Pointing to the bloody spot you flash him a small smile. “You should see the other guy.”

Smiling briefly, he nods at you while turning towards the stairs and walking quickly down them, you right behind him. As the two of you make your way through the bustling crowd, right out the doors, and through the grass to the front entrance where Five is shouting something in another language at a retreating car.

“Was that him?” Diego questions.

“Yeah.” Five says, sounding like he’s out of breath.

“Jesus, it’s just one thing after the other” You add irritated. Fed up with all this Hargreeves nonsense. Especially those fucking Swedes.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x you #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #what a time to be alive fic #falcor the luck dragon stories

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owl-with-a-pen · 4 years

Note

Hi! I just read the fanfic about Brainy and Nia going to the future and meeting their daughter, I know you posted it a long time ago, I'm just new to tumblr, so if you can I want you to do a fic about the future, where Brainy's daughter and Nia is 5 years old. And it would be cool to see the antics that her daughter does.XD

- Sorry this took so long to fulfil, but yes! I’m sure she’d get into all sorts and this story probably only scrapes the surface! Thank you for the prompt x

Nia had always preferred the night over the day; maybe it was just her Naltorian side talking, but she’d always felt there was a certain peacefulness about the night-time that just couldn’t be replicated in daylight.

That definitely hadn’t changed since Nova had come into the picture.

The daytime had always been busy for a number of reasons. Balancing work and family life, balancing family and hero life - balancing work, family and hero life. But, now that Nova had reached an age where she was starting to explore her natural curiosities, Nia and Brainy hadn’t had the luxury of focusing on anything else. At five years old, they couldn’t let their daughter out of their sight for one second of the day.

The second the sun went down, though?

Nova’s sleeping pattern had always been pretty steady, and once she was out - she was out. She’d definitely gotten that from Nia’s side of the family. After all, Brainy didn’t really need all that much sleep, although he had admitted to her on more than one occasion that he enjoyed resting at her side, retreating to his inner network at hours Nia would otherwise be sleeping, working on small tasks and calculations reminiscent of an actual dream-state. In that way, he could still be close with her during the night, and Nia valued that time together immensely.

Of course, the fact Brainy didn’t actually need those extra hours had made him the best dad ever when it came to late-night wake-up calls courtesy of one baby Nova.

She still wasn’t old enough for them to know for certain the extent of her abilities; Brainy had predicted they wouldn’t fully develop fully until her teen years. Honestly, though? Nia didn’t care what powers Nova had; she was perfect no matter what.

Nia watched from the doorway that evening as Nova cuddled against Brainy on the bed. Her blonde hair was getting so long now, falling in relaxed waves down to her elbows, and the light green tone of her skin was almost washed out entirely by the soft purple of her nightlight on the bedside table. She was curled into Brainy’s chest, chewing idly on her thumbnail, her dark eyes scanning along inquisitively to the passages he was reading aloud to her. Nia smiled privately to herself; Brainy really got into character when reading Nova to sleep, making a big show with grand gesticulations and silly voices, even when the book of choice for tonight was an account on quantum mechanics from Carlo Rovelli’s collection.

Nova had a unique taste in literature, that was for sure and, while she was definitely getting a taste for mathematics and physics, she also still enjoyed simpler story telling. Nia and Brainy had decided to switch up who read to her each night. Sometimes, they’d choose something on Brainy’s bookshelf, and other times they would go for stories catered for a younger – human - mind, like The Far Away Tree, or even folk stories like Little Red Riding Hood or Goldilocks.

Nova really liked Goldilocks; Nia must have read it to her at least twelve times this month alone.

As Nova let out a big yawn, relaxing further into her dad’s side, Nia caught Brainy’s eye, jerking her chin towards the door.

He nodded his understanding, continuing his narration as Nia ducked out of the room, heading towards the living room where Alex was waiting for her, already working open a bottle of red.

“How is she?” Alex asked, sizing up her wine glass as she began to fill it up generously.

“She should be asleep soon,” Nia said. “But, uh, Brainy sometimes runs Q and A sessions with her if she stays awake through a whole chapter.”

Alex snorted. “Only for Nova would I find that concept adorable.”

Nia collapsed onto the sofa, snatching her wine glass immediately. She reached out expectantly to Alex, grinning when she rolled her eyes, ditching her own wine glass to fill up Nia’s.

“Why, thank you,” Nia said, tucking her legs up beneath her.

Alex tipped her own glass with a wry smile. “It’s my pleasure, really.”

Nia took a long sip, savouring the rich taste. They couldn’t exactly go off the walls with a toddler sleeping next door, but right now, anything that could offer her a brief period of relaxation, Nia was more than eager to accept. She swirled her glass thoughtfully. “You know,” she murmured, “Brainy’ll probably need something a little stronger to take the edge off.”

“Oh, way ahead of you,” Alex said, shifting to the edge of her respective sofa to grab a bottle she had stowed away inside her backpack. She placed it on the coffee table with a flourish, giving Nia the opportunity to try and decipher the alien script scrawled across the label. “Kara recommended this,” Alex said, raising a finger. “Please do not ask me what it’s called, because I will not be able to pronounce it.”

Nia snorted, taking another sip of her own regular alcohol. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“He better, this stuff wasn’t cheap.” Alex smirked, leaning back into the sofa. “How have you guys been, anyway? I feel like this is the first time we’ve seen each other in months.”

Nia opened her mouth, only to frown. Had it really been that long? All the days had been blurring together recently, and yet each one seemed to be separated by something inexplicably unique in its own right – courtesy of one overly curious toddler.

Nia wasn’t even sure she could remember the last time she’d visited the Tower, and going out for patrol or even something as simple as date night was so far off the table right now, it might as well have been in another galaxy. There wasn’t a sitter in the city willing to take on a genius, alien five-year-old with a penchant for mischief.

To Alex, Nia only shrugged. “Nova’s just been needing a lot of our attention lately. Well, all of it, actually. Or else she’ll burn the apartment down.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Wait, like seriously burn the apartment down?” When Nia pursed her lips, Alex’s mouth fell open. “Is that normal?”

Nia rolled her eyes, leaning back into the cushions. “According to Brainy, yeah. Coluans express themselves through their intellect, and Nova’s been flexing that muscle a lot lately. Brainy thinks it’s a good sign, that she’ll probably rise to the twelfth-level, but we don’t exactly have much for a frame of reference, y’know?”

“Well, you have Brainy,” Alex considered. “How was he raised?”

Nia shifted uncomfortably, averting her gaze. She took a long sip of her wine to fill the silence. “Uh,” she said softly. “That’s sort of a… sore topic, actually.” She bit her lip, running her thumb along her glass’s neck. “He had robot caregivers for the most part.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

By the subdued look on Alex’s face, Nia knew she didn’t want to butt in with any more questions on the subject of Brainy’s upbringing. Brainy had certainly shared a portion of his childhood with his friends, at least enough for them to know that his parents were not a topic up for discussion if he could help it.

Even with Brainy occupied with Nova in the other room, Alex didn’t appear comfortable to continue the direction of their conversation.

Nia chuckled softly, trying to clear the air. “Anyway,” she said quickly, steering them back on topic, “there isn’t an earth-equivalent to a robot nanny here; well… except for…” She stopped herself suddenly, resisting the urge to grin.

Alex narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Except for what?”

Nia shook her head, pressing a finger to her lips to keep from laughing outright. The wine was definitely starting to do its job - not thirty minutes ago, thinking about this would have only stressed her out. She reached for the wine bottle, eager to keep this high going for as long as humanly possible, topping up her glass. As soon as it was full, Nia took another long swig, breathing deeply as the wine warmed her chest. “Kelex,” she said on her next exhale, unable to keep the smile from her voice.

Alex laughed incredulously. “Wait, what? Kel- Kelex? From the Fortress?” She shuffled to the edge of her seat, almost conspiratorially. “Doesn’t Brainy hate that thing?”

Nia shrugged half-heartedly.

Alex’s eyes widened. “Why does he hate that thing?”

That question seemed to ground her, at least. Nia winced. She was pretty sure they were skirting back along unsavoury territory. “He was never totally clear with me,” she admitted, staring down into her glass, “but I’m pretty sure Kelex reminds him of his own caregivers. They – uh – didn’t exactly get along.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it doesn’t even matter. Brainy was happy to entertain the idea, but the second Kara brought Kelex over, Nova was obsessed with the thing. She rewired it in like… twenty minutes.”

Alex stared. “She’s five, right?”

“She’s also half Coluan,” Nia reminded her, toasting her glass in Alex’s direction. “Dismantling machinery is better than any toy I could buy her.” She closed her eyes at that, pulling a face. “I left her in the bathroom for ten minutes today to shower and by the time I got out, she’d turned my hairdryer into a blowtorch.”

Alex winced into her wine glass. “Oof.”

“She’s just curious,” Nia said quickly, rubbing idly at her forehead. Was she really getting a wine headache already? God, she was really out of practice. “She’s exploring her intellect,” Nia said eventually. “It’s healthy for her and I wanna encourage that, I do—” She sighed heavily. “It’s just…”

“Exhausting?”

Nia smiled bleakly. “That obvious, huh?”

“Then, take a break,” Alex insisted.

Nia stared at her levelly. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Hey,” Alex said with a smirk, pushing the wine bottle over to Nia’s side of the table. “Start with this. Finish the whole thing. Trust me, I have more.”

When Nia laughed, Alex glanced up at her, eyes flashing with a smile. “And, if you guys need a real break, you know that Kelly and I would be happy to help out.”

“You sure about that?” Nia asked warily. “Remember what I just said about the blowtorch?”

“You think a bit of fire’s going to scare me off?” Alex challenged. She leant back, gesturing to herself with relaxed emphasis. “Don’t forget, I shared a bathroom with an incredibly overpowered alien for years. Hell, I used to work for a super-secret government organisation that kept alien prisoners.” She placed her glass back onto the coffee table, folding her arms with a confident nod. “I’m pretty sure Kelly and I can handle a five-year-old super genius.” She winked. “And, if we can’t, we can always rely on Auntie Kara.”

Nia nearly snorted into her glass. She remembered a few choice stories from Auntie Kara revolving her valiant attempt at babysitting for Cat Grant’s son when she’d still been a PA. Something about him ending up on a train that had had a bomb strapped to it? Considering Nova already knew her Auntie Kara was Supergirl, the novelty of being saved from a near death experience would probably still hinge on traumatic, rather than invigorating.

Although, Nia had to admit, the idea of a break – however small – sounded pretty great right about now. She loved Nova with all of her heart, but having even just a few hours with Brainy to herself where she was actually conscious enough to enjoy them would have been amazing.

Still, she couldn’t help but picture Alex and Kelly struggling to figure out how to appease Nova’s more unique interests.

She smirked to herself, pressing her lips against the rim of her glass. “It’s your funeral,” she murmured.

Alex’s cheeks were already a little rosy from the wine and Nia knew she probably wasn’t faring much better. Still, before Alex could promise away any more of her free time, Nova’s door opened and, a moment later, out crept one very dishevelled looking Coluan.

Nia beamed from ear-to-ear. She stood, pausing when the world pitched a little around her. Wine drunk. There was no denying it, she was definitely wine drunk.

After carefully placing her glass on the coffee table, Nia made her way over to the bedroom door. She ran her hand down Brainy’s arm, squeezing gently. “Is she asleep?” she whispered.

Brainy’s expression was warm. He smiled softly, bowing his head. “I believe her excitement today tired her out more than she anticipated.”

Nia chuckled. That was the least surprising statement she’d heard all day. She turned towards the door, peeking inside. Nova’s nightlight was still on, enough to illuminate the profile of her round face snuggled against her pillow where she’d half cocooned herself in blankets only seconds after Brainy had no doubt tucked her in.

Her little mouth hung open slightly, silent breaths escaping her lips. Nia could spy the ears of her own childhood teddy bear poking out from beneath the blankets, hugged tightly to Nova’s chest.

Nia squeezed Brainy’s arm once more before sneaking into the room, summoning a swell of dream energy in her fist to keep from tripping over any mislaid toys or, more likely now she thought about it, machine parts.

Nia smiled; Brainy had promised to fix Kelex for Kara tomorrow. Despite his grievances towards the robot, he still felt guilty over the extent to which Nova had indulged her curiosities. They’d already sat her down to explain to her why what she had done wasn’t appropriate behaviour, and Nova had seemed to understand. Enough that she’d pouted when they’d told her she wouldn’t be able to go with Brainy to the Fortress to help fix Kelex in the morning. The last thing Nia wanted was for Nova to get her hands on the kinds of weapons Kara and Clark had hidden there. Nia had nearly blasted a hole through the wall on accident in controlled conditions when Brainy had been training her, she could only imagine what kind of destruction Nova could cause if she was set loose in there.

It was strange to think all of that had only been a few hours ago. Now, Nova slept peacefully, odd ends of blonde hair strewn across her face.

Nia reached out, tucking those strands behind Nova’s ears. She perched herself on the edge of the bed, pressing a kiss against her daughter’s forehead. Nova scrunched her nose slightly before relaxing again, and Nia had to bite her lip hard to keep from making any sound.

She was perfect. Even with the chaos today had brought, Nia wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“Sleep tight, Firestarter,” she murmured fondly.

When Nia returned to the doorway, she found Brainy waiting for her. She grinned, linking her hand with his. “Come with me,” she said, tugging him along towards the living room. “We have alien wine.” She raised her voice enough for Alex to hear. “And guess who just offered to babysit?”

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #brainia #nia nal #brainiac 5 #alex danvers #oc: nova #my prompts #anon #i'm basically breaking through my writer's block with force of will #i really liked the idea of alex just being like i know exactly what brainy and nia need: alcohol #honestly what a legend

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 6 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: hi hello hey. how did this happen? I actually wrote this way quicker than I expected. thank u so much for ur patience during the rewrites fam, hopefully i won’t have to do any more!!!! so so so hope u like the new chapter :)))))

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

11th October 2020

As it turns out, Vanessa meets Monique and Akeria for lunch earlier than she’d expected. Okay, it’s at her flat instead of a cafe and it’s dinner instead of lunch, the three of them all easily agreeing to go back to Vanessa’s after the pro dance rehearsal on Sunday evening. Akeria had wanted to go to The Ivy but Vanessa had decided to make pernil in the slow cooker that morning after a facetime with her Tia had made her particularly homesick, and there was enough for the three of them anyway. Monique had been glad of the fact that they would be safe from any rogue journalists at Vanessa’s, and Vanessa had laughed and objected to the idea that any journalists would be interested in what was going on in their lives anyway.

Then again, that hadn’t appeared to be the case last year when everything kicked off with-

“V!” Akeria shouts over to her and interrupts her from the dreamlike state in which she’s fluffing up the rice. “You got any more wine?”

Vanessa laughs at her friend as she tips the pan over three bowls consecutively. “You’re rehearsin’ tomorrow morning, calm the fuck down.”

“Aw, let a bitch live! I did good last night, I deserve to celebrate.”

Vanessa thinks about how Akeria ended up fourth on the leaderboard with Asia and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, rub it in, girl. It’s fourth place, not Vicks.”

“Stop bein’ salty,” Akeria scolds her as Vanessa carries their dinner over to the huge sofa they’ve chosen to sit on instead of her tiny dining table. “You had a couple bum weeks, so what? This week’ll be the one.”

Vanessa wants to point out that it was really only one bum week and the other she was undermarked for, but she doesn’t. She lets it drop and instead turns her attention to Monique. “Right, bitch, let’s break bread and spill tea. What’s goin’ on?”

As Monique lets out a heavy sigh while she stabs at her food, Akeria claps her hands together and threatens to spill her dinner. “Yes! Thank God you said it, ‘cause I didn’t want to seem rude, but that’s the reason we’re all here, right?”

“God, I beg you both shut up,” Monique groans. “Okay so…me and Monet. You know we did that Waltz, right? And it was very…romantic, very intense.”

Vanessa and Akeria bob their heads like nodding dogs in response. Monique gives another heavy sigh and Vanessa is on the edge of her seat. “Well, it was like…our last full run before we finished up on Thursday. An’ we were both very much like…well, final run, let’s just give it all our energy. And it just got so intense, like, all the eye contact and the moments where we were all like…close, the bit where she picks me up and spins me-”

“Oh my God…did you kiss?” Akeria blurts out excitedly. Monique rubs both her temples with her hands.

“Akeria,” she raises her eyebrows. “We had sex.”

Vanessa lets out a scream. Akeria almost spills the entire bowl of pernil over herself as she reacts, waving her arms about so much Vanessa thinks she might give herself whiplash. “Sorry, sorry, sorry…WHAT?!”

“You cannot tell a single fucking soul on God’s green earth!” Monique groans, and Vanessa still isn’t sure if she’s over the information she’s just been given.

“HOW?!” Vanessa screeches out, ignoring Monique’s plea but promising her internally.

“It was my own damn fault-”

“FAULT?! How is this in any way a negative situation?” Akeria teases her friend with a shit-eating grin on her face.

Monique pouts in self-pity as she carries on with her sentence. “I kissed her. At the very end. I just got so caught up in everything, Jesus, I don’t know.”

“Tell me it was like the musical where there’s all the fuckin’ horn section and everything goin’ off in the background,” Vanessa butts in, remembering when she saw The Bodyguard on the West End last year. Monique knows the exact bit in I Have Nothing she’s talking about, because she nods her head.

“It was exactly that part.”

Vanessa lets out a cry identical to Akeria’s. She’s picturing the scene in her head and it sounds like the most romantic kiss that’s ever happened to anyone outside of a fictional setting. “M’nique, that’s adorable, oh my God.”

“What happened after? Well, she obviously liked it,” Akeria shrugs, and Vanessa splutters a laugh. Monique looks vaguely like a babysitter that has to deal with a pair of five year old twins.

“She just kissed me back before I could even break away out of fuckin’ embarrassment. She was just holding me and kissing me for what seemed like ages…and then when I had to get air I was panicking and apologising and she…oh my God. She asked me if she could take me home.”

Akeria raises her eyebrows. “Damn. I have got flutters.”

“So you went back to hers? OH my God. You’ve been to Monet X Change’s house,” Vanessa gasps, impressed. Akeria gives a snort of disbelief, turns to look at her.

“She’s been inside her fuckin’ pussy, never mind her house!!”

They both howl, and Monique rolls her eyes before apparently admitting to herself that what Akeria had said was funny after all and giggling.

Akeria leans forward with intrigue. “And did you…have a nice time?”

Monique now can’t wipe the smile off her face as she puts both hands to her cheeks, an attempt to cover her blush. “Yes. We both did. It was a very nice time.”

“So what’s the problem?” Akeria asks her, blasé and black and white as ever. Monique gives a sigh of exasperation.

“Because we’ve not…spoken about it, we’ve not addressed it!”

“It didn’t seem awkward last night, you did a great job!” Vanessa frowns, spearing a chunk of pulled pork. Monique lets out a tiny helpless whine.

“Yeah, that’s because…” she begins, then trails off. Vanessa knows what she’s going to say already, but Monique finishes her sentence before she can properly connect the dots. “We did it two more times before the actual dance.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Akeria shouts through a mouthful of dinner. “This ain’t fair! How come a God-fearing, good lil’ Christian girl like you can get laid three times in the space of three days an’ I get nothing?”

“Jeez Keeks that’s so far off the mark. Christian? Uh-huh. Good? No way,” Vanessa teases. Monique, for perhaps the twelfth time this evening, looks as if she’s severely regretting telling her friends anything at all, so Vanessa decides to be helpful. “When’d you bang again, then? Thursday night was the first. You stay over?”

“Yeah. We did it again the next morning and then in the studio on Friday.”

“IN the studio!” Akeria screeches. Vanessa wonders if she should apologise to her neighbours the next day. She, herself, has had sex quieter than Akeria’s screeching. “You are nasty as fuck!”

Monique has the good grace to attempt to look embarrassed before a proud smile takes over. “It was Monet’s idea. She told me she couldn’t keep her hands off me.”

“Well she’s nasty too. Y’all are well suited,” Akeria shrugs, and the three of them laugh.

“So why’re you pressed?” Vanessa asks her friend. She draws from her own experience as she follows up. “You in your feelings?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know!” Monique gives an anguished cry, dramatic as ever. “I just want to get to know her a lil’ more. I don’t want her to think I just wanna sleep with her because she’s Monet X Change, y’know? Like sure, I have a crush on her, but it’s not like I ever had sleep-with-my-dream-girl on my bucket list.”

“Maybe on your fuck-it list,” Akeria supplies unhelpfully.

“Why don’t you ask her out?” Vanessa shrugs. It seems so simple when she’s giving it as advice but if anyone had suggested that as a solution to her feelings for Brooke she would’ve laughed them all the way to Oxford Circus.

Monique gives Vanessa a long-suffering stare. “We both know it ain’t that simple, V.”

“Well, why don’t you tell her what you’ve just told us?”

This time Monique pulls a face. “Well, maybe. I don’t know. Monet don’t seem like the type to catch feelings, though.”

“You don’t seem like the type to catch feelings. Shit, you don’t catch feelings,” Akeria reminds her, Vanessa giving a laugh as she remembers every time Monique has had to pry girls off of her at a bar.

“Shut up. To be honest I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’m glad to have vented about it,” Monique shrugs in resignation, takes a sip of her wine. “Anyway Kiki, what’s the story with Miss Asia? Thought you were gonna sweep her off her feet an’ show her your Hitachi or whatever line usually works for you.”

Vanessa snorts as Akeria gives a smirk. “I wish. Nah, we get along great but we’re honestly just better as friends. It’s almost like all the hours spent rehearsing with our bodies pressed up against each other kinda ruined the magic a lil’. She’s great though. Could set her up with you, though, Vanj?”

In any other context, Vanessa would have a smart remark. However, the thought of being set up with someone else when Brooke Lynn seems to fill her every waking thought these days isn’t a desirable one, so she opens her mouth. “Well, uh…I mean, obviously Asia’s cute, but I’m not really…y’know-”

“Oh my God,” Monique cuts in, trying and failing to suppress a laugh. “You’re crushin’ on Brooke Lynn. You are! Oh my God, Kiki, look at that blush.”

Vanessa frantically shakes her head, willing the blood to flow away from her face. “No! No, it ain’t a crush. Shut up.”

“You’ve gone so red. Jeez. I’d hate to see the colour you go when you are in your feelings, then,” Akeria laughs.

“She is so in her feelings! C’mon, deny it, bitch. Try an’ deny it.”

“Jesus Christ will you both shut up!” Vanessa exhales with exasperation, now highly regretting the amount she’d wound Monique up. “Fine! Fine…it’s not a crush, but I just find the girl attractive, an’ it’s nice gettin’ to know her, is all.”

“That’s literally a crush,” Akeria stares incredulously at her. Vanessa rolls her eyes to the ceiling and aquiesces.

“…fine, maybe it’s a crush, god damn.”

The two girls opposite her explode. Vanessa stuffs more pernil and rice into her mouth with a feeling of resignation.

“Don’t tell me you two’ve been bangin’ mid-rehearsals as well?”

Vanessa breathes a laugh. “Stop it. No, just a couple hugs in the corridor after our dances. We went out for lunch together last week.”

Monique gasps. “You went on a date?”

“That’s not a date, Mo, shut up.”

“It is a date! You took a girl you like out for lunch, how’s that not a date?”

“Because she wasn’t aware it was a date. And neither was I! It was honestly the furthest thing from a date. It was a fuckin’…raisin.”

The three girls giggle, and in the conversational lull something occurs to Vanessa. “The only other thing is, uh…well, both weeks we did our dance for the judges, after we finished, she, uh…she kissed me.”

There’s another bomb of screaming from the girls that detonates in Vanessa’s living room. World War Two hasn’t got shit on Akeria and Monique.

“What?!”

Vanessa shrugs. “I mean it ain’t a massive fuckin’ makeout sesh, obviously! It’s just a lil’ cheek kiss, top-of-the-head kiss, that sorta thing. You can see her doin’ it, the camera got it both times.”

(There’s a fan account on Instagram dedicated to her and Brooke’s Strictly journey, and it’s posted the footage of the kiss Brooke gave her last night. Vanessa will not admit to the girls that she has watched it too many times for it to be explained away as normal.)

“So she likes you back,” Akeria states, as if it’s a fact and not something Vanessa’s been wondering about at random intervals throughout the day every day for the past week or so.

“We don’t know that.”

Akeria’s face turns scheming. She’s clearly got an idea. “Well, why don’t you choreograph a big sexy rhumba or something where you gotta grind up on her an’ get all nasty an’ shit? That’ll speed things along.”

Monique points her fork at Akeria in agreement. “Yes! ‘Cuz Jan and Jackie did that in, like, week 1, and they’re already fuckin’.”

Vanessa screws her face up. “Jan and Jackie ain’t sleeping with each other, shut up.”

“Oh my God, girl, I beg you buy a pair of glasses,” Akeria rolls her eyes, causing Monique to let out a laugh.

“Yeah, they absolutely are.”

Vanessa shoves another mouthful of dinner in. She’s hungry, and it doesn’t help when she’s trying to talk and eat. “Well, Strictly curse aside, it’s our Jive week this week, so that’s operation sexy dance out the window for at least another seven days.”

“Ugh. That’s annoyin’,” Akeria consoles her. After that, talk immediately turns to movie week and dances, and the conversation has moved on.

But it’s nice now that she’s admitted her crush on Brooke Lynn to Akeria and Monique. She’s got her girls to vent to when Brooke gives her a smile that comes with an extra added twinkle in her eye that sets Vanessa’s insides on fire, or to squeal to when Brooke brings her a coffee from the cafe they’d visited for brunch last week “just because”. She can’t take her eye off the prize too much though, even in the excitement of movie week. They’re doing their Jive to Runaway Baby from the Madagascar franchise (Brooke insists it’s niche and Vanessa insists it’s not) where they’re dressed as animals breaking out of huge cage props and “running away”. It’s not going to be as iconic as Plastique and Scarlet’s Dirty Dancing-themed Salsa, nor will it be as hot as Crystal and Gigi’s Rhumba (to License to Kill, no less), but it’s theirs, and it’s fun, and it’s hilarious watching Brooke get to grips with the insane amount of kicks needed for a Jive to be a Jive.

“My feet feel like they’re going to fall off,” she groans, lying flat on the floor after a particularly intense Wednesday rehearsal. Vanessa hides a laugh behind her hands, sneakily pulls out her phone to film her.

“What?”

“I said my feet feel like they’re about to fall off,” Brooke repeats louder, for the unknown benefit of the camera.

“You ain’t much of a soldier, are you?” Vanessa scoffs affectionately. Brooke sits up on her elbows, noticing Vanessa’s phone.

“Are you filming this? You’re filming this,” Brooke asks and then confirms without Vanessa even having to say anything. “Well to anyone that follows Vanessa, I’d just like to say that this is human exploitation and you should not be supporting this.”

Vanessa howls with laughter, tries to ignore how good her name sounds in Brooke’s mouth. “She loves me really.”

“I love her really,” Brooke rolls her eyes, and Vanessa’s heart jumps at the words even though they’re part of a joke.

She stops filming, posts the video to her feed and leaves it as they keep practising. When they stop for lunch and they’re sitting scrolling, Vanessa’s eyes widen at the comment Monique has left, her friend taking her stirring to new levels:

moheart: you two are so cute omg branjie 5 ever xxxxx

As Vanessa’s contemplating using the cables that line the floors of Elstree Studios as garotting wire when she sees Monique at the show on Saturday, she taps on the comment’s likes (it’s got 85 so far). Her heart stops when she sees the familiar blue tick of bhytes at the top of the list. Vanessa darts her eyes Brooke’s way as if her face gives anything away, and of course it doesn’t. Brooke’s scrolling casually as if she hadn’t liked a thing, and it manages to mess even more with Vanessa’s head. Vanessa enjoys the feeling though, this experience of having a crush on a cute girl again. She is so used to healing (she’s had to do it for the best part of a year now), and it’s nice to have butterflies in her stomach instead of an endless churning ocean.

Her feelings for Brooke aren’t helped by Cheryl and her ridiculous quiz on It Takes Two on Thursday night after their rehearsal. Okay, Vanessa supposes- every couple has done one, so it’s not exactly as if they’re being singled out. But when they finish their usual interview (how they felt regarding last week’s comments, how rehearsals are going, how they feel about the week ahead) and Cheryl pulls out two sets of glittery pink paddles (one saying me and the other saying her) with an excited grin on her face, Vanessa does a bad job of masking her horror.

“Oh my God. Cheryl, what is this?”

“Welcome to…Mrs and Mrs!” Cheryl announces with a small flourish, and the film crew give a cheer. Brooke snorts beside her, just as dumbfounded. Cheryl continues. “Okay, Brooke and Vanessa, I’m going to ask you both a series of questions and you’ll need to hold up your paddle to show me who you think is the best fit as the answer- you, or your partner. Every time you both give me the same answer, you get a point. For example, if I asked you…who sweats the most in rehearsals?”

Vanessa rushes to hold up the paddle that says her and as soon as she’s done it she cranes her neck to look at the one Brooke’s held up. She squeals when she sees me staring back at her, a blush appearing on Brooke’s face as she giggles.

“I sweat! I’m very sweaty! I never wear grey in rehearsals!” Brooke pouts in anguish, and Vanessa gives a laugh. She leans into her in a show of sympathy, trying to ignore the way her pulse races as she catches the scent of her perfume. It’s not the Flash that she wears at the weekends, but it’s still just as intoxicating.

“Not sure we needed that much detail, love, but you get the idea! You’d get a point, because you both said Brooke,” Cheryl pokes fun at Brooke, before her gaze snaps back to the camera, all charisma and TV-presenter-smile. “Okay, your score to beat is five, that was set by Gigi and Crystal on Monday’s show and none of the other girls have beaten it so far! Ladies- are you ready?”

Vanessa raises her eyebrows, tries not to look at Brooke who she knows will be smiling like an idiot. “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“Okay. Let’s play…Mrs and Mrs!” Cheryl announces dramatically, and immediately holds up a set of glittery cards that the questions are written on. “Question one- who’s the most patient?”

Vanessa laughs and she can feel Brooke being set off beside her. She’s held up her, and Vanessa’s held up me.

“She’s so laid-back she’s horizontal!” Brooke laughs, and Vanessa swats her. She melts a little as Brooke’s gaze turns affectionate. “It’s why she’s such a good teacher. I’ve said it before, but I’m really lucky.”

Cheryl moves on before Vanessa can react to the compliment. “Who’s the best dancer?”

Vanessa hears Brooke scoff. Sure enough, Brooke has once again held up the her paddle, and Vanessa has voted for herself too. Brooke laughs as she looks at Vanessa’s paddles. “Of course it’s her! Has any celebrity voted for themself?!”

“Willam and Yvie both did!” Cheryl giggles, and Brooke rolls her eyes so much that her body tilts back with them. “Okay, next question- who is the better cook?”

Vanessa holds up me, and Brooke’s held up her. It definitely shouldn’t make Vanessa feel as good as it does.

“Brooke is like the kinda person who would struggle to keep a cactus alive, never mind her own damn self,” Vanessa laughs, and Brooke laughs along, agreeing rather than being offended.

“And Vanessa should go on Celebrity Masterchef one year. I swear to God.”

Vanessa looks at Brooke and smiles, happy for the compliment. She’s sure she’s not imagining that Brooke leans into her a tiny bit.

“Three points so far ladies, you’re on a roll!” Cheryl comments, impressed. “Who is more of a perfectionist?”

Vanessa fumbles with the paddles in her haste to hold up her. Brooke has indeed also voted for herself.

“She will make, like, one mistake and she’ll make us run the entire thing through until she gets it right,” Vanessa explains, Brooke giggling beside her in embarrassment. “I thought it was meant to be me that worked her hard, not the other way!”

Cheryl laughs from her interviewer’s chair. She reaches the next card and her eyebrows fly up her face. “Ooh, one for your massive egos here- who’s the most attractive?”

Vanessa’s heart gives a little jump and her brain thinks almost a hundred thoughts at once. She could play things off and vote for herself (because ultimately, she’s well aware of the fact she’s cute, she’s got a mirror), but part of her wants to see how Brooke will react to the compliment. Deciding all this in the space of about two seconds, Vanessa holds up the her paddle. To her surprise and poorly-concealed joy, Brooke is also holding up the her paddle. Vanessa’s trying to hide her smile and Brooke’s expression suggests she’s doing the same.

“I mean, I’m not gonna be big-headed,” Vanessa plays it off. Cheryl is looking at the both of them with a little scheming smile on her face.

“Well, nice to see that the first time you drop a point is because you’re both just too busy trying to compliment each other, in’t that sweet!” she grins. Vanessa wishes she had one of Cheryl’s cards to fan the blush away from her face. As Cheryl moves on to her next card, her mouth drops open. “Oh, right, this one’s a good ‘un. Who is most likely to have a crush on someone in the cast?”

Fuck. Vanessa can feel Brooke giving similar amounts of hesitation beside her, and the two of them share an awkward glance and a laugh. Without really knowing what she’s doing, Vanessa slowly holds up the paddle that says me. She’s almost scared to look at Brooke’s, but she leans forward anyway. Staring back at her from the paddle is the exact same word as the one she herself had held up- Brooke has also said me.

Cheryl gives a reaction much as if she’s reporting on breaking world news. “Ooh, now that’s interesting! You’ve both said yourselves. Any reason? Do we actually have any crushes flying around the studio?”

Vanessa holds a tight, awkward grimace on her face, hoping she can avoid the question. She almost feels her soul leave her body when Brooke crosses her legs and sits straight. “You might think that, I couldn’t possibly comment.”

As Cheryl appears to stave off an aneurism, Vanessa cuts in with the best way of diffusing the situation she could manage. “Aw, you know I gotta crush on you, Cheryl, stop pretendin’ like you don’t know!”

Cheryl howls with laughter, turns to the camera and appeals to her wife who’s presumably sitting at home. “Blu, babe, don’t listen to her!”

Vanessa joins in with the laughter, suddenly willing the interview to be over.

“Okay Brooke and Vanessa, at the end of Mrs and Mrs, you have scored…four!”

The production team claps them, and Brooke turns to Vanessa to hi-five her. Vanessa accepts with a laugh. Cheryl shuffles her cards and turns to the camera.

“Well they might not’ve won Mrs and Mrs but they’re still gonna be dancing on Saturday- Brooke and Vanessa, everybody!”

There’s another clap, and their interview is finished. Thank God.

It’s only when they’re walking back outside afterwards after a little bit of small-talk about their plans for the rest of the evening that Brooke quirks a bashful smile at her. “So, uh…you think you’re more likely to get a crush on someone in the cast than me? Does this mean you’ve got one on somebody?”

Vanessa suddenly feels as if she might vomit up her own heart. She plays it off, narrows her eyes at Brooke. “Alright, Cheryl, damn! I thought the interview was over. Jeez.”

Brooke gives a small laugh. They’re walking close, and every time Brooke’s body brushes against hers Vanessa swears she sees sparks flying off them both. “Just asking. I said myself, remember?”

Vanessa already feels ever so slightly giddy, so she takes the risk. She cocks her head at Brooke as she walks. “Alright, since you wanna talk about crushes so much. Who’ve you gotta crush on?”

“I asked first,” Brooke shrugs easily, stopping as they both reach the doors to the exit. Vanessa lets out an exasperated laugh.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, we are full-grown adult women.”

Brooke splutters a giggle as she leans on the door and opens it, the freezing cold air smacking Vanessa across the face. They both leave the building and Brooke stands still, her face wearing a hopeful expression. The wind is whipping her long blonde hair over her shoulders.

Damn, she looks so beautiful.

“So you’re not telling, then?” Brooke smirks. Vanessa thinks about it. She thinks about what Brooke’s honest to God reaction would be if she actually turned around and said yeah, I’ve got a crush on you. The thought of doing so almost makes her laugh.

“Well I’m not a fifteen year old high schooler, so no. Sorry to disappoint,” Vanessa smirks back at her. Maybe this is flirting. She’s not even mad about it. Thinking again, she cocks her head curiously as she shoves her hands in the pockets of her huge hoodie that she’s pulled over her interview outfit. “You gonna tell me?”

Brooke’s smile is still there, still cheeky. “No.”

“But you’ve got one.”

“I never said that,” Brooke shrugs easily. For a moment they’re both standing biting back smiles at each other, and Vanessa feels as if she’s caught in some form of stalemate. It’s Brooke that breaks it first, because of course it is, and she brushes some hair out of her face as she shrugs at Vanessa again. “Well, have a good night, anyway! See you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“Yeah, you too. Get home safe,” Vanessa says, the two of them sharing the usual friendly wave that comes with their goodbye. In spite of herself, Vanessa watches Brooke turn on her heel and walk in the opposite direction to her. Just as she’s about to start making her own way home, Brooke pauses, turning to look back over her shoulder.

The pair of them share one last bashful smile before they make their way back home and it feels as if Vanessa floats home on a cloud.

Saturday rolls around quickly, and Brooke has managed to transform herself from having feet made of concrete blocks to someone with featherlight ankles, so Vanessa is confident that they’ll score well tonight. She’s not really got scoring or the judges at the front of her mind, though, because movie week is entirely too much fun. It feels as if she’s at Universal studios as she walks through costume and hair and makeup, everyone dressed up in variations of movie characters. The best by far, though, is Jaida and Yvie’s. Any part of Jaida that isn’t clad in a grey leotard and skirt is painted entirely in grey body paint, with her hands in black gloves. Her hair has been expertly twirled into two long “ears” on the top of her head, and makeup has painted a blotted white stripe down the centre of her face. Yvie is wearing an orange and black striped morph suit, on top of which costume have given her a little red and white striped waistcoat with a buckle, a red cape, and, of course, a pair of boots to dance in.

And her face is painted like a cat.

“I’m going to see that in my nightmares this week,” Scarlet pipes up from across the green room, looking every inch the iconic Baby in her pink dress and glittery silver heels.

“More like your dreams,” Yvie winks at her, and Scarlet laughs, presumably to offset the pink blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah Scarlet, don’t you want her pussy?” Willam joins in from where she’s getting her hair swept into a low ponytail. Her costume is nowhere near as extravagant, but it’s classy nonetheless- a fitted tuxedo suit for her stint as a spy as part of her and Phi Phi’s dance to 4 Minutes. Courtney laughs from her position sitting on the dressing table beside her. Even though she and Blair were voted out last week, Courtney’s role as a pro means she’s still part of the show’s group dances. It’s something that Vanessa thinks Willam is particularly grateful for (she’s seen the hand-holding when they think no one is looking). Courtney starts singing Livin’ La Vida Loca under her breath absent-mindedly.

“Hey, listen, at least neither of us are Shrek,” Jaida consoles Yvie, who doesn’t look as if she needs much consoling.

“You guys, Courtney’s right there,” Willam pipes up again, the girls laughing as Courtney swipes at her playfully. Willam flinches in her chair, much to the irritation of the hair stylist.

The costumes aren’t all ridiculous, though. There’s a murmur of admiration when Gigi and Crystal emerge from wardrobe in skin-tight floor-length velvet gowns (one red, one black), each with a huge slit up the side. Akeria whispers something to Vanessa about Crystal stealing her idea of a big sexy rhumba, and Vanessa tries to laugh from her current position in the hairstylist’s chair but the two thick plaits they’re weaving her mane of brown locks into makes it difficult. She can’t help but let out a gasp when Jan and Jackie emerge from their costume fitting, though, and neither can the rest of the girls: Jackie is dressed in black leggings and a red waistcoat and tails, covered in shining gold brocade and black detailing. It’s Jan, though, who takes Vanessa’s breath away. She looks like a muted version of Lily James’ Cinderella in a gorgeous, floaty powder blue dress which hits her calves, little dimantés and tiny butterflies stitched into the light fabric.

“Janet, holy hell! It’s Strictly, this ain’t fashion week!” Jaida cries, sticking her tongue out at the end to let her friend know she’s joking. Jan gives a shy laugh, sweeps her immaculately curled blonde hair over her shoulders.

“Yeah, all you’re missing is a tiara,” Scarlet agrees enthusiastically.

“Hey, I thought we were meant to be showing off our celebrities!” Akeria pipes up with a raised eyebrow. Before Jan can reply, Jackie takes her hand and smiles.

“I’m happy to let this one steal the show for this week. She looks gorgeous, she deserves to be in the spotlight,” she shrugs. Vanessa doesn’t miss the look Jan gives her partner or the way she squeezes Jackie’s hand. She thinks back to what Monique had said at dinner on Sunday. Maybe something is happening between those two after all.

“Vanessa! You’re up please, fitting,” one of the costume girls calls out for her, and Vanessa obediently dashes towards the room in question. Brooke’s been squirrelled away in her own dressing room having to do some prep work for her filming the next morning, so when Vanessa sees her in her own costume, it’s not what she expects. She can’t find the words to describe how Brooke looks.

“Don’t…say…anything,” Brooke warns her, but it’s too late- the laugh is already coming out of Vanessa’s body before she can stop it, and it turns into a howl when Brooke grabs her tail- her stripy, white and black tail- and gives a twirl. She is dressed entirely as a lemur.

It’s not long until Brooke is spluttering a laugh herself. “Don’t tell me this isn’t the hottest you’ve ever seen me look.”

Vanessa’s cheeks hurt from laughing. “I don’t think I can keep my hands off you, boo, I’m gonna be honest.”

“Well luckily you’ll be wearing the exact same thing in about five minutes,” Brooke quips back at her, and Vanessa pouts and groans. She doesn’t really mind though. Mad, extravagant costumes are a staple of Strictly movie week, and she’s just happy she gets to experience it with a partner this year.

Soon enough the show is starting, and Vanessa watches the first dance from the Divinatorium with her hand entwined in Brooke’s. Neither of them mention the contact- it’s apparently just another secret. That and both of their crushes. Willam and Phi Phi are first and it seems as if Willam’s technique is a little better after her somewhat dismal scores in the weeks prior. Monique’s told Vanessa she’s seen Willam getting extra lessons from Courtney during her lunch breaks, so she suspects that’s what is making the difference. It seems to have paid off, and they get a score of twenty five altogether. After they see that dance, they can’t stay to watch Aja and Farrah as they’re on third, so while Farrah lives her Disney princess fantasy waltzing to Someday My Prince Will Come, Vanessa is marking the steps with Brooke backstage.

“This is gonna be a good week. I can feel it,” Brooke smiles at her, and Vanessa believes it. They’ve coped way better with the Jive than they did with the Paso, so she’s eager to show the judges what they can really do. Farrah and Aja get their critiques and their scores (a disappointing 17), and just like that, Brooke and Vanessa’s VT is playing and their massive cages are being rolled out onto the stage. There’s a distance between them in their two separate props, but Vanessa knows that Brooke’s feeling confident and so, in turn, does she.

“Dancing the Jive…Brooke Lynn Hytes and Vanessa Mateo!”

The electric guitar slices through the quiet of the room and with it sends an electric shock through Vanessa’s veins as she starts to dance. Her eyes are focussed on the audience, ever the professional, but she hopes Brooke is coping as well as she’s done in rehearsals. As soon as it comes to the part of the music where they “break down” the door of their cages and land into hold with each other, Vanessa can’t help it when the fake performance smile on her face turns into a real one as she faces Brooke (whose face, like hers, is painted like a lemur, complete with bright yellow eyeshadow). Brooke’s face is concentrating hard, and Vanessa knows she’s nailing all the steps as they reach the section where they figure-eight their ankles then change and do the same with their other foot.

“See I ain’t try’na hurt you, baby, no, no, no, I just wanna work you, baby…”

There’s not a whole lot of the dance spent in hold as it’s essentially a test of their synchronicity, Vanessa doing the rightfootflick, leftfootflick, flick, flick, flick, PIVOT and hoping Brooke’s doing the same beside her. But it’s fast and it’s fun and she knows her choreo is good and fuck it, they’re both dressed as lemurs, so they’ve got a fighting chance of doing a decent job this week. Brooke takes her hand and spins her round all while doing the most complex footwork Vanessa’s taught anyone before, and her face is showing it. Vanessa knows she’ll get pulled up for letting her concentration show, but everything else, technically, has gone really well so far, which is just as well as Laganja is standing up to take in every single inch of the footwork.

“Your poor little heart will end up alone, ‘cause God knows I’m a rolling stone, so you better run, run, runaway, runaway baby…”

On cue, Brooke slides herself down on the floor then jumps up, and Vanessa puts her hand on her shoulder right on the final beat. The audience erupts, the clapping envelops them, and Vanessa can’t help but freak out a little. This is the first dance they’ve done where she really feels they completely nailed every single part of it, and she’s punching the air as Brooke picks her up by her waist, spinning her round and round on the ballroom floor. When she puts her down, Brooke pulls her into another hug, and Vanessa can feel the kiss she plants on the top of her head. It’s strong and insistent and Vanessa wishes it had been pressed to her lips, but she supposes she can’t wish for everything all at once.

Vanessa barely even takes in Michelle’s interview with Brooke, she’s simply too happy. As Michelle asks the judges what they thought, Vanessa hopes and prays their comments will reflect the dance they completed.

And they do.

Vanessa listens to them all in a happy haze- the words “immaculate footwork”, “light and precise”, “turned a corner”, and “breakthrough” all pop like fireworks in her head, and she can’t help but squeeze Brooke’s hand every time the judges give them a new compliment.

“Just one very little thing,” Shangela says at the end of her critiques. “You were concentrating so hard on that, and rightly so because it’s hard! But I’d love to see more of the chemistry you have with Vanessa, because you’ve got about two minutes to tell a story out there, and to see you both connecting with each other would be lovely!”

Vanessa tries to suppress a smile at her comments, and Brooke nods affirmingly at Shangela’s words. The incredible feedback is ringing in her ears so much that she hardly knows what she even says to Divina when they both run up to the Divinatorium after their dance is done, and when it pans to the judges for their scores Vanessa can feel her own hand unbearably sweaty in Brooke’s.

“Will the judges please reveal their scores. Bianca Del Rio.”

Vanessa sees the paddle that she holds up and screams. “Seven!”

She’s so busy squealing and hugging Brooke in her delight that she almost misses the next few scores.

“Kennedy Davenport.”

“Eight!”

Vanessa’s jaw drops so far open she’s momentarily scared she’s dislocated it. This changes everything. This is night and day to the scores they’ve had previously.

“Shangela Wadely.”

“Seven!”

“Laganja Estranja.”

“Eight!”

Vanessa can hear the other couples cheering and clapping for them both and she can feel a bunch of hands patting her on the back, but all she can focus on is Brooke’s heartbeat through her chest. She is euphoric. There’s no feeling like it.

“That’s a score of thirty!” Divina tells them, and when Vanessa pulls away she can see that Brooke is crying happy tears. The sight almost makes her want to start crying too. Divina pulls a sympathetic face. “Brooke, you’re clearly happy!”

“I am! I’ve just said from the start that I don’t want to let Vanessa down, and finally we’ve done really really well!” she sniffs, and Vanessa pouts and squeezes her waist. Thirty. Their score was thirty. Thirty out of forty. They’ve only dropped ten marks and it’s week three.

This is good.

As Divina carries on interviewing them both, Vanessa feels her concentration drift away. She’s remembering Shangela’s comments about chemistry. Next week is their Salsa week. Vanessa remembers her conversation with Akeria, and operation sexy dance, and in that moment she decides to make it her mission for the week to show the judges just how much chemistry she and Brooke have.

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

in aeternum, little lamb

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 4756

Prompt: “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

———————

It was raining. Again.

Usually a rainstorm was serene and peaceful, normal for London, but there was a certain sticky humidity in the air that made going outside a chore. It was cold, yet uncomfortably warm at the same time with no wind blowing to ease the mild heat that has settled its oppressive, sultry murk over the city. It spilled into every street, every alleyway, every house that dared to open the window, thinking that it would help with the clamminess that fogged their home, but to no avail.

This, of course, brought upon complete and utter dreariness that coated every person making their rounds through their daily lives.

Anne’s forehead was dotted with beads of sweat by the time she arrived at the theater, only then really regretting her decision to walk to work. She hadn’t been expecting the humidity to be that bad, but here she was, feeling like she was leaking steam from every pore.

“God, this weather is miserable,” Jane was grumbling in her dressing room when Anne peeked in. She was currently attempting to tame her wild blonde hair (and losing the battle), which had a small (read as: large, high, anything but small) tendency to frizz up in high vaporous atmospheres like the one drenching London on that day.

“You look great, Jane.” Anne laughed, leaning on the doorframe. She gets a piercing grey glower shot in her direction, but isn’t phased by it. The coldness of the stare almost eased her internal temperature.

“Why is it so damn humid?” Jane finally exclaimed. “We live in London! Not Florida or whatever the fuck it’s called—”

Anne bit both lips, trying to hold back her laughter at the proper fit the queen before her was throwing.

“It’s supposed to be rainy and cold. Not rainy and a LITERAL SAUNA!”

Kitty, who was sitting nearby at her own makeup table, giggled softly. She got up and picked up a brush to help with her mother’s wild hair, which was definitely puffing up as if she were an angry cat or a distressed Studio Ghibli character.

“I don’t know, Jane,” Anne laughed slightly. “Well, I’m going to go get a cup of coffee. You two need anything?”

“Yeah,” Jane said. “A word with Mother Nature.”

Anne laughed again, waved a hand, and walked off to the break room.

Well- it wasn’t really a break room, per se. Theaters didn’t really have those. It was just an extra dressing room that nobody used and had a microwave, mini fridge, and coffee machine inside. In some way or another, a round bar table, small couch, and two beanbags ended up inside- Anne couldn’t really remember how they got there, but they were there and, thus, the room became a nice place to chat and relax when nothing was going on. Kitty had once even hid under the twin beanbags during a game of hide-and-seek (which was also her idea).

Upon stepping inside the break room, the scent of coffee bombarded Anne’s nose. The coffee machine was still on, but little was left in the pot. She walks over to it, thinking it was enough to sate her- she didn’t really like coffee, but she needed the extra rush to help her combat the dreariness the weather was inflicting upon her.

“Sorry,” A voice from behind suddenly said. “If I had known you wanted some, I would have made more.”

Anne actually jumped and she whirled around to see none other than the music director sitting in one of the beanbags. She jumped, too, and straightened up, nearly spilling the mug she had placed beside her pillowy seat.

“Sorry!” She said again. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Anne placed a hand over her racing heart and waved the other dismissively, laughing.

“It’s alright!” She assured the girl. “I didn’t see you at all!”

Joan smiled slightly, humoring her comment, then slumped back over to continue reading the book she had in her lap.

Anne studies her for a moment- as everyone said, Joan wasn’t much for conversation, despite always lurking on the edges of a group discussion. It was like she wanted to join in or just talk to someone, but didn’t have the courage to do so. Perhaps she was worried about being ignored or rejected, so, instead, she just watched in silence.

Maybe that’s why a few younger stagehands who were working there for college credit started calling her the “Theater Ghost.” Anne couldn’t really deny that that title wasn’t accurate- her not noticing the girl at all just proved that it was.

“Did you drink all of this?” She asked, trying to strike up a conversation to make things less awkward. Tenseness was as thick as the humidity outside in that room.

“It’s not that big of a pot...” Joan sort of mumbled.

So, yes. She did.

Anne frowned slightly. She vaguely knew of Joan’s caffeine addiction, but never really saw it first hand. She just knew that the girl drank more coffee than everyone working on the show combined.

“I see,” Anne chuckled. “Well, alright.”

She turned around while waiting for the pot to fill to see that Joan was looking at her. However, when she noticed, Joan snapped her head back down to her book. Anne furrowed her eyebrows.

“What are you reading?”

“Huh?” Joan seemed...surprised that Anne was asking her something. “Oh, it’s just- it’s just some silly book.” She kicked her leg anxiously against the beanbag, seemingly trying to hype herself up for something. “It’s, umm- it’s called Wings of Fire.”

She brandishes the book, keeping one finger inside the pages to mark her spot. On the cover was a flying gold and black dragon with four insect wings, spines along the back, and funny little glasses on the snout (something about dragons having eyesight care and possibly dragon eye doctors stood out as silly to Anne).

“It looks good,” Anne said after inspecting the picture.

“Oh, it is!” Joan said, perking up slightly. “It’s about these ten dragon tribes and five baby dragons were supposed to be born on The Brightest Night and be the Dragonets of Destiny to stop the war between three Sandwings fighting to be queen. So they’re kept underground, but their caretakers are kinda abusive and mean. Probably because the Skywing egg was destroyed so they had to replace it with a Rainwing egg, which are supposed to be the laziest tribe and that makes Kestrel- the really mean guardian- mad. So she’s kinda a jerk to the five dragonets. But then they break out of their cave before they’re supposed to leave when they’re six, because they have to wait until they’re seven, only to be captured by the Skywing queen! And they’re forced to fight to the death and they’re almost killed because this one character, Peril, can burn everything she touches! But then it’s revealed that Clay, he’s the Mudwing, has fireproof scales! And Glory, she’s the Rainwing I was talking about, can spit venom!! Then they escape and go to the Seawing kingdom and Tsunami- the Seawing- is actually the missing Seawing princess and a statue was killing all the other eggs. Then they go to the rainforest and Glory becomes queen and Starflight goes blind in the fourth book and the end of the war happens in the fifth!!” She’s babbling about a hundred miles per minute- Anne can barely keep up. “We should- we should read it together! If you’re interested. Like a book club! Except I’m on the twelfth book right now and I don’t know how fast you can read and I just basically spoiled the entire series, hahaha...but only for the first five!! But the next arc isn’t that good if you ask me. It completely throws everything that has happened out the window and just puts new characters in a school? Which they barely even stay at! So why even make the school, Tui? And my favorite character in that segment is in a coma for, like, three of the five books in that arc!! Arc three is pretty cool, though. I like the new tribes. And Sundew is supposed to be a lesbian! With an actual girlfriend! And it’s a main plot point!!” She’s beaming now. “I just—I think you would really, really like it and, I dunno...it would be fun! I can read it aloud? N-not because I think you can’t read or anything, I just—like talking. To someone. And to make sure you don’t doze off and miss any of the really good parts! Because there are SO MANY even though Tui doesn’t seem to remember any of her world building half of the time, but—”

“Joan?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Joan’s face flashed deep crimson. She hunched her shoulders around her neck and ducked her head, almost using her book as a shield to hide herself. It seems she just realized that she had been talking the green queen’s ear off.

“Sorry,” She whispered. “I-I just thought that you wanted to...” She shook her head. Her hands clench around the sides of her book. “Nevermind.”

“Joan-”

“Your coffee is gonna get cold.”

Anne looked at the full coffee pot, then back to the girl, and then walked over to get herself a cup. She can hear Joan shifting anxiously in the beanbag behind her.

Honestly, she found the girl’s deep interest in what she was reading quite endearing, she just didn’t know how to reply to her monologue in a way that showed that she actually was interested in what she was saying.

“Maybe send me the link to the book sometime?” Anne offered while heading for the door. “Or if you have a physical copy...”

“Yeah,” Joan smiles thinly- weakly. “I have some at home. I’ll give them to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds great.”

“Oh, and— Anne?”

Anne stopped right as she was walking out.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

Joan looked down shyly, shifting her legs.

“For talking to me.”

———

“She thanked me. For standing there while she was ranting about a book!”

The other queens looked rather amused by the story they were given during dinner. It wasn’t exactly the reactions Anne was hoping for- was nobody else concerned by the oddity of the situation?!

“Joan’s a...quirky kid.” Jane merely said. “She’s always been a little strange, Anne. I’m almost positive she was raised by literal street rats, so that might have something to do with it. Rats aren’t exactly much for conversation.”

Anne looked at her in shock. Of everyone to say such a thing, she hadn’t expected it to come from Jane “Protective and Loving Mom Friend” Seymour.

“Did you just—”

“Anne,” Jane sighed. “You know what I’m talking about. She worked for you! She’s just a weird kid. Kids are weird!”

“‘Weird’ is when a kid likes to watch snails go over salt and get burned, Jane. Thanking someone for listening to them talk about a book is concerning.” Anne argued.

“Cathy does it all the time.”

“Cathy doesn’t thank us!”

Anne was really getting worked up over this and she wasn’t exactly sure why. She really only got this way for Kitty or Maggie- she theorized it was those maternal instincts kicking in or just a natural protectiveness for an ex-maid in waiting.

Whatever it was, it sure seemed to be amusing to the others.

“Okay, calm down, Anne.” Cleves said, laughing slightly. “We get it, you think it’s worrying. No need to start a food fight over it.”

“I’m not going to-” Anne broke off into agitated grumbling, which caused even more giggles in reaction.

“I said thank you to Catherine when I read to her yesterday,” Cathy said.

“That’s because you were asking her opinion on a chapter you wrote!” Anne struck back. “It is NOT the same thing!”

Cathy shrugged and took a bite out of her pork chop.

“It’s nothing you should stress about, Annie.” Kitty said. “Maybe some people are just meant to be alone!”

Anne gave her a look of disbelief.

“Like Henry.” Cleves put in helpfully.

“Like Henry, yeah!”

Now, don’t get Anne wrong, she loved her little found family with the queens very much, but, at that moment, she wanted to hit all of them with the salad bowl at the center of the table as hard as she could.

Maybe not Aragon, though (unfortunately). The woman hadn’t told Anne to forget about the situation or just move on- she was thoughtfully silent, eating her dinner in reserved peace. Whatever her opinion on the argument was, she didn’t say it.

Anne sighed, putting her head in one hand as she picked at her dinner until Aragon finally spoke up to tell her to get her elbow off the table. She begrudgingly obeys.

Like that, the conversation is dropped and something new, something Anne really didn’t care about was talked about.

After dinner, Anne decided to do some snooping on her laptop. First, she looked up historical information on Joan, only to find nothing. Every website was just the same thing over and over again- literally. It was just copied and pasted from the extremely short and vague Wikipedia page on the girl. The names of her parents weren’t even recorded, nor was any childhood information. There was barely even anything on her time as a lady in waiting, which only covered her work under Jane and not either of the cousins.

She had a son named Hercules, though. If that meant anything.

Next, Anne went to Joan’s Instagram page. It had several hundred followers, mainly from the fans who insisted on following everyone associated with the show, and was filled with the normal posts the actors usually had- although there were very few compared to the queen’s and other ladies in waiting’s accounts. Most of the photos were of her work or her playing the songs on her piano or of selfies of her in the band costume.

In almost all of them, she was completely alone.

Anne searched for something- she didn’t know what exactly, just something- in the seventh-five posts on the account, then went to the photos Joan was tagged in. There weren’t many- just group photos and a few good shots of her from a MegaSix and a single appreciation post (she vaguely remembered Joan telling them about it and how giddy it had made her...nobody had really listened to the babbling at the time).

And then Anne found a certain photo- the first one she was ever tagged in: it was a photo of her costume laid out on a table with the caption, “Here’s the lady in waiting costume! I’ll be posting about SIX more on my other account, so follow if you’re interested!”

The name of the account was @force-be-with-ewe.

Anne clicked on it.

force-be-with-ewe

i just really like drawing sheep

Johanna-She/her-Asexual lesbian-Musician and artist

That’s the first thing Anne saw when she clicked on the account, along with an adorable profile picture of a sheep playing a piano, then the whopping twelve followers (most of which were ghosts or bots) and three hundred and nine posts.

It took Anne just a moment to realize that this was Joan’s personal account.

And she went through all of it.

The profile was a mishmash of drawings and piano videos and sheep. The latest post was actually a photo of a bird with a caption talking about how the little guy had been visiting Joan’s bedroom window every morning and “giving her a reason to get up because she had someone looking forward to seeing her.” She maturely and proudly dubbed the bird “Minecraft.”

After that were drawings of dragons with #wingsoffire and #wof in the descriptions, leading Anne to believe that they were characters from the book she had been told about earlier that day.

And they just kept going.

Among videos of Joan playing the theater keyboard when presumably nobody was around, were drawings of sheep playing various instruments and sleeping and being adorable, drawings of more dragons, drawings of a few Pokémon (mainly Snom, Wooloo, and Sobble). There were stunning drawings of giant creatures from a game called “Subnautica” and beautiful drawings of castles and scenery. There were even drawings of the queens!

Usually fans would tag them in art, but it appeared that Joan was too shy to do that. So, instead, she just left them floating in her profile with no ways to see the masterpieces, since there weren’t any hashtags on those.

Anne was genuinely amazed by the attention to detail in the sketches of her and her fellow queens and even more amazed by the drawings with watercolors. She swore the painting’s eyes had more color than her own and the costume was as vibrant as the actual one in real life.

It was beautiful. They were all beautiful.

Why didn’t Joan want anyone seeing these?

Anne kept scrolling and eventually came upon rather...concerning posts.

The first was of a messy, but haunting colored pencil sketch of a pitch black ram with inky, bleeding red eyes that seemed to stare through the screen and directly into Anne’s soul. The caption simply said, “Black Philip.”

Another was a drawing of a blonde girl, presumably Joan, leaking coffee from every single orifice on her face and was drawn with such detail that it would easily make an emetophobic’s stoamch churn with nausea.

And then there were a few of an ice dragon, slightly similar to one of the dragon tribes from the book, but this one notably had more icicle spikes, frayed scales, and jagged wings. It was moon silver in color with ice blue hues and eyes like a raging blizzard.

All the drawings done with this beast, which was apparently named “Killer Frost” (and has no ties to the Flash character of the same name), were normal- just it laying around, flying, standing atop icebergs menacingly or breathing a freezing death breath. But there were a few that stood out to Anne as worrying.

The first was of Kitty, actually. She was wearing her show costume and her eyes were closed with a peaceful expression on her face. And then there was the glittering paw of the ice dragon reaching down from the top of the image and cupping one of her cheeks with its serrated, barbed claws. The caption read, “The Chosen One.”

The second and much more concerning drawing was captioned, “Envy truly is a deadly sin.”

It was a drawing of Killer Frost crouched in a feral position, staring forward with blazing eyes, jaw hanging open and teeth bared, absolutely soaked in blood.

There was just blood everywhere. Blood on the body, blood on the claws, blood dripping in horrifying realistic threads from the mouth, blood all over the blank, white floor beneath the beast, blood squirting from the remains of the carcasses that had presumably been gored.

The image left Anne with so many questions- What did this represent? Who were those corpses? Was Joan jealous? And if yes, who was she jealous of?

One thing was certain, though- Joan was startlingly good at drawing gore. A sketch of Killer Frost holding its own gooey, bloody esophagus and larynx in another photo just proved that. There was even one of the dragon ripping its own throat out while the faint outline of what appeared to be three ghosts encouraged it.

It was strange to see such mishmashes of horror shoved in between adorable sketches of sleeping baby lambs and fluffy Wooloos. It also left Anne with growing worry for the artist.

When she finally finished going through the profile, Anne decided the follow the account and became the thirteenth follower.

This time, thirteen would not be an unlucky number.

———

Five books were left on Anne’s dressing room table the next day, all with a colorful dragon on the cover, and a note that read, “I didn’t know if you only wanted one book or all of them, so I just left the first arc. Let me know what you think! :) -Joan”

“Fan mail?” Cleves asked, peeking over to the table from where she was getting ready.

“Nah,” Anne replied. “Just some books.”

“Sounds very cool,” Cleves chuckled before returning to dousing her hair with hairspray.

“Extremely.” Anne said, then set out to find and talk to Joan before the show. She could get her hair and makeup done later!

Except she couldn’t find the girl anywhere. She asked around, but nobody knew where she went. And she was definitely there because Anne saw her onstage right before the performance, but, by then, it was too late to speak to her. Anne just decided to see her afterwards, which was easier said than done because, once again, Joan was nowhere in sight.

Anne was about to give up, since it was almost time to leave, but then she spotted the girl in the break room playing a card game by herself at the round bar table. She considered charging in and barking at her about where she’s been, but she didn’t want to freak her out, so she just walked in calmly.

“Hey, Joan,” She said cooly, noticing the way the music director’s hand froze as she was setting down a card. She grabbed a water bottle from the mini fridge and sat down at the chair across from Joan. “Whatcha doing?”

“Just...playing a card game my brother taught me.” The girl replied meekly.

Joan had a brother? The articles on her said nothing about him...

“You had cards back then?” Anne asked, as if she hadn’t been born in the same time period.

“No, we used strips of wood we would tear off from people’s houses and carved symbols on them with knives.”

Anne blinked.

“...Oh. That’s...”

“Concerning?” Joan finally glanced up from her deck of cards to look at Anne. A ghost of a smile graced her lips for a moment before she tilted her head back down with a light laugh. “I know.”

“Mind if I play?”

She’s glanced at again- scanned, as if Joan was expecting her to pull something and make a joke out of her. But then she gave in and began collecting the cards from how they’re laid out on the table.

“This game is too complicated to explain,” She said. “But we can play Speed?”

After a quick rundown of the rules, Anne agreed and the game began.

And honestly? It was great. Joan genuinely laughed and smiled as they playfully bickered and argued over the card game. She almost looked like a happy little lamb frolicking in a field of flowers.

On their third round, Kitty peeks into the break room.

“There you are, Annie!” She said. “I was looking for you!”

“Oh, hey, Kit!” Anne said. Out of the corner of her eye, she definitely saw Joan clench her jaw. The drawing of Kitty and Killer Frost’s claws and then the bloody sketch briefly flashed in her mind. “What’s up?”

“We’re leaving,” Kitty informed. “We had dinner plans tonight, remember?”

Joan sighed softly and began to pick up the cards. Anne gently pressed her hand down.

“I think I’m going to pass tonight, Kit.”

Both blondes looked shocked- Joan more than Kitty from the way her head whipped up fast enough to give her whiplash.

“How come?” Kitty asked, clearly confused. “I thought you really wanted to go to this pub...”

“I know, but I’m hanging out with Joan right now.” Anne said. “Just bring me home something if you can!”

Kitty blinked several times, glanced at Joan, then nodded and walked out.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Joan whispered.

“I wanted to, though.” Anne assured her. She gently took the deck of cards from Joan’s clenched hands and began dealing them out. “Wanna keep playing Speed or try War? I’ve played with Aragon before. I swear, she ALMOST broke my nose in anger!”

“You followed me last night.”

Anne blinked.

“Yeah, of course,” She said. “I had no idea you could draw so well. You’re very talented.”

A hot pink blush dusts Joan’s cheeks and she looked away. She anxiously plays with the corner of an ace of spades. The slight drizzle that had been tapping on the window starts to pick up.

“I-”

She’s embarrassed, Anne realized. Embarrassed and horrified because she knows Anne saw the gruesome drawings she had made.

She believes that Anne thinks she’s sick. Or a freak. Or a monster.

Anne would admit that they’re a little weird, but a lot of artists liked to make horrific art. Nothing wrong with that, especially if they were vents.

“Joan-”

“Why are you doing this?” Joan asked quietly. She looked up and centuries worth of loneliness and neglect and pain reflect in her stormy grey eyes. “What do you want?”

Finally, Anne understood.

“Look,” Anne said. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

Joan froze. She just stared at Anne in shock for a long time before tears fill her eyes and start to run down her cheeks. She tries to stop them, but it’s clear she’s been bottling this all up for a long time and won’t be able to hold it back any longer.

“Y-you want to be my friend?” Joan whispered.

“Yes, Joan.” Anne answered her honestly, not missing a beat. “You deserve someone who cares about you.”

The most heartbreaking whimper Anne has ever heard strangled itself out of Joan’s throat. The tears start to come down faster.

“N-nobody— Nobody has ever w-wanted to—”

“Oh, Joan...”

Anne quickly got out of her chair and walked around to Joan’s side of the table. She wrapped her arms around the girl and she immediately slumped into her embrace, clinging back like Anne was her life line.

“Oh, Joan,” Anne said again. “Oh, you poor, sweet little thing...”

Joan began to openly sob against her shoulder. Her hands claw at the back of Anne’s shirt, desperate for a good hold.

“I’ve- I’ve been alone f-for so long—” She wept.

“Shh, shh,” Anne hushed her. She began to rub her back soothingly. “I’ve got you now, honey. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

That elicits a sharp whimper from Joan, who burrows herself even closer to the queen’s warmth. And she stays like that, half slid out of her stool, clutching onto Anne Boleyn like her life depended on it until she was able to choke back the rest of her tears.

“Feeling any better?” Anne asked. She was still rubbing Joan’s back, as the girl had yet to pull back from the embrace.

Joan shrugged weakly. “A-little.” She croaked. “N-not...not good. But better. B-because you’re here.”

Anne’s heart simultaneously broke and melted.

“You sweet girl,” She said lovingly. “I want to be here for you from now on. Is that alright?”

Joan nodded. “Please...”

“Alright,” Anne said. She gently pressed Joan back and gave her her water bottle, which she never actually opened. “Drink something for me, sweetheart.”

Joan obeyed and took a few small sips of the water. It soothed her dry throat, which was weak from the outpour of emotions.

“Good girl,” Anne said encouragingly. “Hey, here’s an idea! Why don’t we go back to my house and watch a movie? I know there’s a tray of lasagna we could heat up! If you want to, that is.”

“N-no, that’s-” Joan sniffled. “I would really, really like that...”

Anne smiled warmly at her.

“Wonderful.”

———

When the other queens came home later that evening, none of them were expecting to see Anne sitting on the couch with the music director’s head in her lap, but that’s the sight they were greeted to.

They both looked content, Anne with a loving smile on her lips and Joan with a peaceful expression settled on her face as she slept. One of Anne’s hands was stroking through Joan’s hair and the other was holding a book, which she looked up from when the front door opened.

“Hey, ladies,” She said, momentarily setting down Wings of Fire- The Dragonet Prophecy. “How was dinner?”

———

A day later, Anne got a notification on her phone saying that @force-be-with-ewe had posted. When she checks it, she sees a digital drawing of Killer Frost being nuzzled lovingly by a large, emerald green dragon.

The caption simply reads, “Thank you for giving me a chance”

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #anne boleyn #jane seymour #katherine howard #joan on the keys #anna of cleves #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #nana boleyn #in aeternum little lamb

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Firsts / #2 “The First Time Bringing Him Home”

*not my gif*

---> NEXT BLURB: I hope that I can put it out on October 19th, following the every other week rule, but I’m not sure with my busy schedule. Keep an eye out for updates on the series masterlist!

---> READ BLURB #1

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

-> SHOULD I CREATE A TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES? IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED, LET ME KNOW! :)

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

italicized words : a flashback.

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 10.7k words (!!!)

SONG: And I Love Her by The Beatles (CLICK TO LISTEN)

* SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

“A tear collects at the corner of my eye, reminding me that at times like these, I expect to blink and it’ll all be gone. I wait for myself to wake up from the dream, and to have him ripped away from me, just like all of those other times he was. But it doesn’t, because how could my dreams beckon for me when my life was finally better than anything I could dream about?“

“She thinks that there’s one soul out there, just for her. One that will stay by her side forever and that someday, she’ll find it.”

- Kazuya Kujō, GOSICK -ゴシック-

“Are you kidding me?”

Groaning, I drop my purse in the doorway where it falls with a thud, and my quick steps echo down the hallway. “Harry Edward, I swear to God,” I mutter under my breath, narrowing my eyes at his laughing figure at the other end, but the happy sound only grows further and further away.

“What would you ever do without me?” I ask nobody aloud, coming to a stop in a patch of sunlight dancing through the tall window. Rounding his desk, I find his brown messenger bag that I still smile at every time, and begin to pack his stuff up.

Pulling open a drawer, I find his Macbook charger that I may or may not be stealing for the tenth or twelfth time. After the last of the unwrapped cord comes out, something pink flutters to the marbled floor. Huffing, I shove the charger into his bag and bend down to pick it up, smoothing down the end of my skirt against my bottom. The thought of standing back up comes to my mind, but as a hint of his recent Sage and Citrus candle trickles through the air, I stop at the words I see.

“Huh,” I sigh, my lips curling into my cheek as the writing on the Post-It clears before my eyes. A certain somebody’s handwriting that I could recognize instantly, but my noggin takes a moment to rouse the reason for this very note.

I hope your case went well today, Harry, and I’m sure it did because you’re so good at what you do. I just wanted to let you know that I really like working with you, and I’m so glad that I found this job, and more importantly, you. You’re one of my best friends, Harry, so thank you a lot for that.

Your Becks xxx

The space between my eyebrows softens when the jigsaw pieces click inside my head, but then it’s followed by the smallest of tears in my chest when I notice that my name is smudged. The paper all over has smudge marks, and looks almost crinkled, as if somebody spilled something on it . . or shed tears onto it.

“Oh, Harry. I hate to think what you did do without me,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over the note I wrote so many years ago, and yet, he still clung onto it. Standing back up, I clear my itchy throat and tuck the note back into the drawer where it sat in the little divider surrounded by coins and pink erasers.

“Can I help you with sumthin’?” a voice teases from the doorway. I almost jump when I hear it, the sleek wooden drawer closing without a sound.

“Yeah, you can stop making us late.”

“What, we’re not gonna be late, Becks.”

“We will if you don’t stop it with your Minnesota goodbyes,” I quip, draping the cloth strap over my shoulder and stepping forward.

“Whatever tha hell that means,” he titters with knitted brows, that breathy laugh escaping his lips to grace the air. He closes the distance between us and I feel zings of electricity on my forehead where his lips touch. “Here, gimme. I was jus’ sayin’ me goodbyes t’ My’ t’ make sure we’re all set with bein’ gone t’morrow and Monday, and you as well.”

“If you say so,” I exhale, letting him take the bag from me. Somehow, it only makes him all the more attractive, clutching onto it across his chest, clad in a teal and black paisley suit with a button up the color of raven feathers beneath.

“C’mon, brat. Let’s get this show on tha road then,” he complains ever so annoyingly, making me roll my eyes.

“Hey! Watch it, you’re on thin ice, bud!” I exclaim, whipping around to find him giggling after pinching my ass.

“Oooo, ‘m so scared!”

“Harry, hurry up already! I don’t want to hit rush hour traffic! What more do you need to bring? It’s only a three-four day trip,” I call up the staircase, my hands slapping against my thighs in impatience.

“‘m comin’! Would ya chill yer tits, woman? My God,” Harry chuckles, appearing around the corner of the staircase a moment later. Shaking my head, I catch sight of the large box wrapped in floral paper. “Don’t smile now, Becks. Dontchu’ smile, babe.”

Stifling a giggle, I turn around fast and thread my fingers through the cloth handle, “Dammit, Harry, what do you have in this bag? It weighs a ton.”

“‘s yer birthday presents, bug.”

“It is?” I ask excitedly after an intake of air. His steps stop in front of me, but I ignore him and push aside the fabric of the large reusable cloth bag.

“They’re wrapped, silly. Hey, you were gonna cheat and take a peek, weren’t you?!” Harry exclaims. Looking up slowly, I press my lying lips into a line and shake my head. His own pair rise to pinch his cheeks and now, it’s his turn to shake his head. “Naughty, naughty, Becks. Hmm, maybe I should jus’ leave ‘em here and you can open ‘em when we get back on Monday. Fo’get ‘bout openin’ ‘em up t’morrow mornin’ on yer birthday.”

“Harry, no!” I almost shout, but his stern look dissolves into a giggle. A spark ignites on my cheek when his thumb brushes along it, hooking his fingers into my hair.

“Don’t worry, sweets. I can hardly wait t’ give ‘em t’ you, let alone anotha few days,” he winks, and I feel my shoulders relax when I breathe out. “Now, let’s go put this in tha boot, and get goin’. Yer dad’s expectin’ us soon,” he hums, bending forward to sponge a kiss under my eye. I can’t remember when he had started doing that, but I smile at the feeling of his warm lips on my birthmark.

“Hey, what’d I say earlier?!” I argue a moment later, almost jumping into the air after he pinched my bum.

“I don’t care. Yer gonna be tha one makin’ us late now, if ya don’t hurry that cute bum o’ yers along.”

Giggling, I open his glossy, black front door to step onto the front stoop. Humming a tune, Harry helps me to get the heavy bag into the boot of his Rover, fitting it and his large box amongst his suitcase and my own. Things are shoved to the side, including his windshield scraper, a jumper or two, and his bag of workout clothes with his highlighter yellow Nikes spilling out.

“Becks, I get t’ pick this time!”

“No, you don’t. I don’t even remember who picked last time, but I got to your phone first. That’s the rule,” I return with a mischievous grin pointed towards him. Huffing, he adjusts himself in the driver’s seat before pulling the seat belt across his chest.

“Pick sumthin’ good please, and would ya plug me phone in then?”

“Sure, and wait, what do you mean? I always pick good music!” I say, turning to look at him as he presses the button to start the car.

“I love ‘Dancing Queen’ and ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ babe, but please, can we have sumthin’ different t’day? ‘s a three hour drive, I don’t wanna be listenin’ t’ those songs or bloody ‘Hannah Montana’ tha whole way.”

“You’re no fun,” I groan, finding the words I had just said feeling heavy in my throat when I see his lock screen. A giggly picture of us from the other night fills it, the first time I’ve seen it. Smiling, I unlock it regrettably, and find his Music Library.

“Alright, Ms. GPS, where am I goin’ exactly? ‘s been awhile since ‘ve been up this way, y’know,” Harry says, adjusting the air conditioner until it flows softly.

“Thanks for driving,” I tell him first, squeezing his hand and watching his eyes scan over to me. They instantly fill with the smile that follows on his face.

“Welcome, babe. Take all tha time ya need with gettin’ back t’ it. But, y’know, ya should start lookin’ fer a new car.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Harry-,” I begin in an upset tone, scrolling through one of his playlists.

“Ya, but I do. I don’t see why you won’t lemme help you pay-.”

“Harry, I can afford it, I’ll be fine. The settlement money will be enough for a used one,” I disagree, settling on a Haim song just to have something to listen to already.

I just hope it’ll help me tune out this impending argument.

“Ya, a shitty used one, Becks. ‘m not gonna let you drive ‘round an unreliable car, I-.”

“Well, I don’t remember needing to have your permission before I did something,” I retort, setting his phone down above the radio on the little mat, noticing his fingers darting around on the touch screen.

“That’s not what I said, Becks, y’know that . . Ya don’t ever need me permission t’ do sumthin’, I can’t believe ya’d think that ‘bout me,” Harry sighs, stabbing at the screen one last time before backing away from his closed garage.

Closing my eyes, I let my head fall against the window, regret pooling inside of me darkly. I try to swallow, but the words I want to say sit there, unsaid.

“I don’t think that about you, Harry, I-.”

“Then why fookin’ say that, Becks?” he spits back, harshly switching gears before zooming along as the directions are spoken to him.

“Because I’m upset and people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset, and I’m tired of-.”

“Doesn’t fricken ‘scuse what ya said, actin’ like ‘m controllin’ when ‘m not like that. You know ‘m not,” Harry grumbles under his breath, stopping suddenly in front of a changing stoplight.

“I’m sorry.”

“Ya well, what have you said t’ me befo’, huh? ‘Sorry doesn’t always cut it,’ ‘cuz y’know, it doesn’t mean a whole lot when it gets overused all o’ tha time,” he continues, a bite in his voice. I soon taste blood in my mouth and release my tongue, unaware I was taking out my frustration on it, as well.

“I don’t want your help buying a car, Harry, why can’t you just accept that already?” I almost explode, wishing I wasn’t, but the words were shoved up and away before I could stop them.

His sigh is automatic and unavoidable, as is the click of his tongue, “‘Cuz we’ve argued ‘bout this how many times, and ya still won’t tell me why not.”

“Fine, because I don’t want to take your help- your money. I-It’s just how I was raised, I don’t know. It’d be so embarrassing, Harry . . ,” I trail off, my voice growing small and choked.

“Oh, Becks,” Harry says in an exhale, lacing his hand with mine and pressing a kiss to it. “Ya don’t hafta be embarrassed, love . . I know that you’d pay me back, and however long it takes ‘s fine.”

“Thanks, but . . I don’t know. I don’t like ‘talking money’ with you, no offense or anything. It’s just . . weird with you being my boss and signing my checks, like you say. You know how much I make, and I know you pay me a little more than an associate because you like me.”

“‘m sorry I give you shit ‘bout tha check thing, but y’know that other part’s a bit o’ an understatement,” he wheezes, squeezing my hand in his. Breathing in, I move my head to look at him and watch his eyes turn to me and soften. “It ‘s. I liked you afta a few weeks o’ knowin’ you at tha firm, then I really liked you, and then I loved you.”

“Harry,” I say with a sigh, looking away and finding our laced hands sitting on his thigh, right where he always places them.

“What, ya aren’t gonna reciprocate me love?” he giggles, and I remain quiet. “‘s okay, love, ya don’t always hafta.”

“I love you too, but-,” I start, but cut myself off, just in time. Or, so I think.

“But what?” he asks, his indicator making a ticking noise while he switches lanes. It takes me a few moments to notice the absence of the music. I think that he’s lowered the volume, but then, I gather that he’s turned it off altogether. “Becks, what’re you thinkin’ bout?”

“Bug? Yer scarin’ me, what’s tha matter?” he says, hurrying through his words. My lips are dry when I swipe my tongue over them, but the landscape outside my window is anything but that. It’s green in between the buildings and the hot sun shines high in the sky.

“I feel like a burden to everybody . . the last few months . . ,” I admit in a small voice, focused on the sensation of him twirling a ring around my finger. An old one I had found in a drawer the other day, from my uni days with Skye. “What are you doing?” I ask hurriedly when I notice he pulls off the road onto the shoulder, and parks.

“Becks,” Harry says firmly, pressing his thumb into my hand, but it doesn’t wake me up quite yet. “Rebecca Holte, listen to me. No, I need you t’ look at me too,” he continues, cupping the side of my face and pressing on it until I look into his eyes overwhelmed with something. “You are not a burden t’ anybody, let alone t’ me. I love you, Becks, mo’ than I thought I could ever love somebody. Hell, mo’ than ‘ve loved anyone. Yer never a burden t’ me, ‘ve told you this fer years, and I wish you’d believe it, love. I really don’t mind givin’ you lifts t’ work, and I know Skye doesn’t either. How else would I know that you secretly love Miley Cyrus’ music, or ya still jam t’ High School Musical or The Lion King? I love ridin’ t’ work and home with you ev’ry day, I honestly cherish gettin’ that extra time with you. Sure, ya drive me nuts sumtimes with yer odd music tastes, but I love you fer that. I love you for yer stubbornness, even with this bloody car issue, ‘cuz I dunno if we’d be t’getha if it weren’t fer yer stubbornness. I love you fer how good you are with yer money, tha effort you make fer those you love, like spendin’ tha weekend at yer Dad’s fer yer birthday with Robbie. I love you fer yer dedication t’ anythin’ and anybody that you love - throwing Asher a surprise birthday party tha other week, or organizing that baby shower fer Rose next week. Yer amazing, you blow me off me feet ev’ry day with sumthin’ new ya did. You could never be a burden t’ me, yer tha complete opposite, bug. You make tha world spin ‘round fer me, always done that, you have. Ya make me excited t’ get up in tha mornin’, t’ be a lawyer, hell . . t’ be a person, and mo’ importantly, yer boyfriend and best friend. I never wantcha t’ think yer a burden, ‘specially t’ me, ‘cuz that’s tha last thing you are t’ me. I love you mo’ than I could ever begin t’ tell you,” Harry divulges and not for the last time do I feel like The Grinch, because it feels as if my heart has grown another size, or two.

His warm laugh dances across my head when I fall into his arms and pull him against me for once.

“Dontchu’ cry on yer birthday weekend now, bug,” he jokes against my temple, his lips making a smacking noise against my flushed skin.

My favorite song in the world fills my ears as his words from before drunken my mind with their never ending meanings. I never thought I could love somebody this much, either. Sorry, Skye.

Sniffling, I brush my hand against my itchy nose and peer up. His greens brighter than the grass outside my window peer down at me, softer than can be.

“I love you too, Harry, so much. I don’t know what more I can say after that,” I croon with happiness plastered across my face. “But, thank you.”

“Ya don’t hafta say anymo’, that’s mo’ than enough fer me, sweets,” he assures me, pressing his lips to mine. “‘m sorry ya didn’t get mo’ settlement money, ya would have if it was me who fought yer case.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s okay?” I giggle and he nods with those dimples on full display for me. He nibbles at his bottom lip, leaving short white imprints amongst the rosy color. I sometimes still amaze myself at getting to run my fingers through his hair whenever I want to, like now. The clean, citrus smell of his new shampoo wafts over me as he smiles down at me, making me think all of my dreams have come true. Almost all of them.

“I know, bug, but it was disappointin’, tha settlement.”

“Your friend at Williams and Knox did great, Harry, and you couldn’t have argued it with your connection to me. Nobody at the firm could, seeing as how I work with them,” I explain to him, my thoughts brushing over the redundancy of it all.

“‘ll tell ya what, I have an ol’ mate who works with cars, and I bet he could knock off a few grand fer me-.”

“Harry!” I begin to protest, but it’s soon whisked away by the softness of his lips against mine. Our giggles tickle the others, and his hand is cold against my hip when he slides up my shirt. “I don’t want you to-,” I start again after he pulled away, but he dives back in for another kiss. Now, I don’t really care if we happen to be late.

“Ya gonna stop arguin’?” he wheezes after ending the kiss, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. My lips part and he raises his eyebrows in response, making me nod moments later. “Good. Now, as I was sayin’, he owes me a favor so ‘ll see what I can do ‘bout gettin’ you a new car. Actually, I think a lease would be best fer you.”

“But, Harry, new cars are too expensive and the insurance as well, and-.”

“Hush,” he whispers against my lips, soon letting me taste his coconut chapstick for the third time in the last minute. Then again, time has seemingly gone out the window these last few minutes, and I couldn’t care if I tried. “I really do think ‘d be best. Ya, insurance would be higher, but then ya have a new car, guaranteein’ no problems, and if there are, tha dealer place fixes ‘em free o’ charge. Inna few years, ya can buy it, or trade it in and sign another lease.”

“Okay, Mr. Convincing Lawyer, you do have a few good points,” I at last agree, watching his sixty-watt smile only grow brighter at my surrender.

“Yer music t’ me ears, y’know that?”

“Ditto,” I say, smiling up at him.

“Maybe if ya continue t’ be good and give a li’l less lip at work, ya jus’ might get a raise when it comes t’ yer six month review next week,” he jests with a lift of an eyebrow, a shit-eating grin plastering his lips. “Reckon that’d help with tha car, bug.”

“Is that so, Mr. Styles?”

“Mmmhmm, it ‘s indeed, Ms. Holte,” Harry answers, but I ignore him and choose to get lost in his lips, and the baby curls on the back of his neck.

A Paul McCartney song hums around us, the soft twang of acoustic guitar filling the holes as buildings pass on by. Yawning, I shuffle my feet in front of me and tip my head against the window. The song comes to a gentle end before a Bowie song follows, and I find my thigh warmed by his touch. I lose myself in the lyrics as his thumb leaves circles through my jeans first above my knee, then higher, and higher. Turning away from the window, I peek a look at him to find him biting at his nails while focused on the road.

“Stop biting your nails,” I whisper, my hand falling onto his and dragging it back towards my knee. It’s difficult, but I hold back the grin begging at my lips when I watch him blink with emphasis.

“Stop movin’ me hand. Y’know what, it took me tha last ten minutes t’ get that high,” he retorts without moving his eyes from the traffic in front of us.

“Why are you trying to get so high, huh, Mr. Styles?”

“Yer not helpin’ things by callin’ me that. Y’know how I feel ‘bout you callin’ me it,” Harry sighs, his thumb falling from his lips, and he turns on his indicator. After switching lanes, he reaches into the middle compartment and offers me a stick of gum before shoving a piece into his mouth.

“And how do you feel about me calling you that?”

“Stop,” he says, turning his head to look me straight in the eyes when a light has turned red. “Playin’ dumb, Becks.”

I avoid his eyes with a giggle and peer out at the landscape where buildings soon become far and in between, knowing how it gets to him and in a good way. His tsking tickles my ears and I shove his hand away, sure I’ve only made matters worse. The next few songs tick Queen off the list, as well as The Stones, and Simon and Garfunkel before a Beatles song follows.

“Penny Lane is in my ears, and in my eyes,” the radio sings back to us while Harry cruises at a steady 68 miles per hour. His distracted humming along eggs me on, and without a thought more, I slide my hand across the divider and onto his thigh. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, and when I glance over, he’s blowing bubbles between singing along. “And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen. He likes to keep his fire engine clean . . ,” he nods to the words, and smacks loudly on his gum. I take the chance and slowly lift my hand from the warmth of his leg, and find another spot a little higher up.

“Yer cheatin’,” is all he says while sitting back further and adjusting his hand on the wheel.

Huffing, I look away guiltily and try my darnedest to hide the smile blooming on my lips, “I am not.”

“Yes, you are. Only slidin’, no liftin’, Ms. Holte. Start over, then.”

“Fine,” I groan, replacing my hand to above his knee where I had begun in the first place. His chuckle irritates me, but when he picks up my hand to press a kiss to, I find it hard not to melt next to him.

Throughout the next few songs featuring Jagger, Backstreet Boys, and McFly, I don’t get very far. I hardly beat my record when he picks up my hand and places it back at the starting point.

“Harry!” I exclaim in annoyance, turning to face him. His dimpled cheeks round out with a pink smile. “No fair, I almost won!”

“Ya, and ya were gettin’ a li’l too close t’ me junk, y’know.”

“That’s the point of the game, silly!” I argue but it only collapses into a laugh that he reluctantly echoes. “We don’t actually . . touch each other, you know that.”

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout? You did jus’ tha other day!”

“Stop it!” I whine, crossing my arms over my chest and facing the window once more with hot cheeks. With my face smushed into a line, I find only a few bits of relief when my forehead meets the cool glass of the window, wishing I hadn’t heard those words. “Don’t,” I mutter when he pries at my stubborn arms that coax me back together.

“Babe, I was jus’ jokin’ with you. It was only an accident, ya don’t still hafta feel bad ‘bout that, Becks,” Harry insists, but the harmless giggle feels anything but that when it interrupts the new Busted song.

“I would if you’d stop bringing it up! You know that I’m never going to hear the end of it from Skye, and now, you too!”

“Bug, it was funny. We all agreed it was, ‘s nuthin’ t’ be ashamed of still, I promise you.”

“Oh, hush,” I say through gritted teeth, shaking off his hand only to hear his depressed sigh.

His voice grows low, and somehow, I let his hand remain when it graces the round of my knee, “I didn’t mind y’know, ‘s rather flatterin’ actually-.”

“Would you shut up about it, please? I touched your crotch the other day, I know because I was there, and it was in front of Skye. I almost died from embarrassment when it happened, and if you don’t stop bringing it up, I actually will die from embarrassment and it’ll be all of your fault.”

“Becks, chill out, babe,” he titters, the emphasis held in his hand that tries to rub the worries away, but I remain pouting. “Stop it with tha poutin’, love, ‘s not lost on me. It was an accident that ‘m sorry I keep givin’ ya grief fer. I like our li’l game, and I know ‘s harmless. Maybe one o’ these times ‘ll make it up t’ you and let ya win.”

“Stop talking already, you know I hate it when you let me win.”

“Young lady, ya better stop it with tha whining, cuz yer stuck with me for tha next three-four days, and ya best bet ‘m stealin’ all o’ tha covers,” he gripes, and I at last look at him with my body too.

“Harry Edward, you will not!”

“I will too, ‘specially if ya keep on poutin’ ‘bout that thing, ‘s not worth it,” he insists, pulling free one of my hands to lace with his one, and smatter the skin of with kisses. “I jus’ hope ya like what ya felt, but ya should know, ‘s mo’ impressive when ‘s hard.”

“Harry, would you stop it?!” I shout, yanking my hand away from him and shrinking against the window with a shiver. “You’re gross.”

“What, like ya haven’t thought ‘bout me dick befo’?” he wheezes with that breathy laugh I’m trying not to love right this moment. Sighing, I close my eyes and try to focus on the song, but it’s becoming too difficult as his words spring a leak in my mind.

This little ‘game’ of ours had started shy of a few weeks ago, and I can’t even remember why really. One of us had started laying our hands on the other’s thigh and as a joke one night, I think after some drinks, I got a little handsy and tried to see how far I could slide my hand without him noticing. It’s become a competition ever since and harmlessly, given the fact that a few steamy makeout sessions as of late hadn’t progressed to anything besides that. Running across some old photos the other night with Skye when backing up my phone made me realize again just how lucky I’ve gotten with him. The man I never thought I’d be able to love, and here I am, embarrassed because my boyfriend is talking about his dick that may or may not occupy my thoughts at times.

God, if I could tell Past Becky that sometime in the near future sh-we may get to see Harry naked, she wouldn’t believe me, or the fact I probably get to sleep beside him the next few nights with him wearing nothing but shorts. I can’t decide which outweighs the other, the excitement, or the fear of the f- that kind of future.

“No,” I whine, continuing to comb through the contents, despite the fact that I already know that it’s not there.

“Yer bedroom ‘s cute, y’know. Look at all these posters, I love ‘em. Bloody hell, ‘s that a Scooby Doo stuffie? Powerpuff Girls too?” he giggles from across the hallway, and I hear things being moved around. “Becks?”

“I know I packed it, what the heck?”

“What’s tha matter?” Harry coos, coming up from behind me and circling his arms around my waist.

“I forgot to pack a razor.”

Apparently, he finds that very funny, because within seconds he’s laughing, “Why ya frettin’ over a razor, bug? We’re only here three nights.”

“Because . . I didn’t want my legs to be prickly when we sleep together,” I reveal softly, and that sweet sound of his returns, soon muffled against my hair.

“I honestly don’t care if yer legs are hairy t’night, or t’morrow, or tha night afta that. I never have, love. But, if it really matters t’ ya, ya can borrow me razor. Lemme find it.” Facing him, I watch as he picks up his small, black toiletries bag and plucks a silver handled razor from it. “Here.”

“Uh, no thanks. Forget I asked,” I rush, occupying myself by grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste from the bag to set on the counter beside his gray one.

“What, why ya look scared, Becks? Ya never used a safety razor befo’ or summat?”

“No,” I reveal slowly, untwisting the cap of the white tube, and squeezing a dollop of the blue gel onto my toothbrush.

“‘s really not that bad, I promise you. I like it better, doesn’t gimme razor burn and goofy bumps, or ingrown hairs as much.”

“I’m fine, no thanks,” I mumble with the toothbrush in my mouth as I move it around, scrubbing my teeth.

“Becks, c’mon. Really, ‘s not that bad. Hey, why dontchu’ help me shave t’night, and that way you’ll learn how t’ use it. Reckon ‘s easier t’ use on yer legs, not havin’ all tha contours o’ yer face and jaw t’ nick.”

“Really?” I ask, placing a hand against the cool countertop, and facing him. “Wait, but I like your stubble and it was just coming back after you had shaved.”

“I leave the upper lip area and chin, but tha cheeks get patchy, so I shave those. I guess yer gonna hafta put up with tha stache again.”

“That’s okay, you know I like it. You’d really trust me to shave your face?” I respond, turning on the sink and filling a cup with water.

He nods, and with an eager smile, fishes out the large tube of shaving gel from his bag.

“What if I cut you?” I almost whine moments later, with the heavy handle in my hands.

“Babe, ya won’t, and if ya do, I won’t be mad. Rememba, like I showed you - forty-five degree angle, short strokes, and tha lightest pressure. Rinse every few strokes under tha tap. You’ll be fine,” Harry insists with the emphasis placed in his rising eyebrows. “Promise you that I trust you.”

“Okay, I’ll try it a few times, but that’s it. If I don’t like it, I don’t want to continue. I don’t want to hurt you, Harry.”

“Ya won’t, bug. This ‘s how ya learn, anyways. Now, c’mon, give it a go,” he coos, pulling me closer to him by his hands pressed to my hips.

Exhaling, I lift my hand and leave a gap of air in between the safety razor and his cheek covered in the white foam. Tilting it like he had said to do, I wait for him to open his mouth to pull the skin taut. I go with the grain and pull the razor along with short strokes, listening to his encouragements as his cheeks slowly reappears before my eyes.

“God, you look like a baby like this. I’ve always wondered what you looked like as a teenager, I want to see more pictures.”

“Noted, ‘ll hafta have me mum bring some over next time,” he replies and I nod, being careful when his face slopes with his cheekbones, but I save the jawline for him to do.

Goodness, Becky, you’re shaving your boyfriend’s face. Sometimes, I still catch myself when I call him that, Harry.

“Bloody hell, ‘s yer dad good at cribbage. I thought I had that last game 'til tha end there,” Harry chortles from across the hallway. Nodding to myself, I flick off the bathroom light, and stop in the doorway to find him snuggled under the covers of my childhood bed. Talk about a sight for sore eyes.

“I told you that I learned from the best,” I reply, closing my door softly and then getting the light. Dashing across the room, I almost jump onto my bed.

“Come warm me up, bug, ‘m freezin’ with that fan on,” Harry says, his teeth chattering, but I wonder if it’s only for the comical effect. “And then, God, what he said when we brought our suitcases in.”

“What’d he say again?” I ask, burying myself underneath the plain, gray comforter, and draping the rainbow colored quilt on top.

“How could ya forget, Becks?” he chuckles from beside me, the sound surrounding me when I place my head on his chest. His laughs continue and grow deeper over the next several seconds whilst I get comfortable under the blankets and his arms find their way around me. “Hey, Dad, where should Harry sleep? Have him sleep with you in yer old bed, I’m not getting any younger y’know, I want some grandkids soon, and Robbie isn’t looking too promisin’.”

“I can’t believe he said that either, I could have died from embarrassment right then and there,” I comment, my laugh joining his to echo around the room. His chest and belly shake and then squeeze beneath me as I nuzzle my head into the middle of his chest.

Little old me had nearly all of her dreams granted after I kissed this fellow, including getting to feel his toned body any time I want to, or lay my head between his solid pecs. Christ Almighty.

“Once again, ev’rybody, but us, thinks we’re havin’ sex,” Harry says, his laugh seemingly not going anywhere. My cheeks warm at his words and I wish that I could bury my head deeper into him, but I only feel the lukewarm metal of his cross necklace against my cheek.

“Hey, that’s not too bad of a deal. We didn’t have to do anything, and people think we are.”

“You have a silly mind, li’l one. I mean, I don’t care what people think, but I wish our parents would stop askin’ fer grandchildren, seein’ as we’ve only been t’getha four months,” Harry giggles, and I nod, remembering my dad missing vague and going straight to obvious when he said he was traditionally named after his father. His elbow into my side didn’t help his case, either.

Suddenly, a disturbing thought whisks my laugh away and I don’t find the joke very funny, anymore.

“Why aren’t you laughin’, hmm? Here, then - it was funny when he hinted he wants a grandson named afta him. Our parents really are obvious, aren’t they?” Harry chirps, and I nod silently, only now noticing the callused tips of his fingers dancing along my arm. “‘m sorry, I overplayed tha joke, didn’t I? ‘s not too funny afta a few goes, ‘s it?”

“No, you’re fine,” I say, but the thoughts kicking up dust in my head don’t feel very fine. No, they don’t make me feel ‘fine’ at all.

Why is it that she always has to ruin everything, ever since I was little? Even now, with her well out of my life, she’s still there despite the fact she’s not . . here.

“What ‘s it, Becks? Did I say sumthin’ wrong, love?”

“No, it’s not you, Harry. I don’t know, just overthinking things,” I reveal, letting my hand rest on the curve of his bicep, wishing I could see his tattoos in the dark to trace them. I know that that wouldn’t make them go away, though.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it, or jus’ go t’ bed?”

“I dunno,” I almost laugh, wishing this was ironic and that it was still funny. But, it’s not. “It’s hard to think about being a mum and mine not being there for it. I know that’s how I’d want it to be, though. It’s just . . hard, knowing how much other mums rely on that and enjoy getting to share the experience with theirs.”

“Oh, love, ‘m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he pipes up, resting his head against mine, and I welcome the closeness.

“I know you didn’t, it was just my thoughts stirring up ‘what if’s.”

“Hey, ‘m sure when ya get t’ know me mum betta and Gemma, that me mum would be happy t’ step in fer that role, and me sister too. I already know with Gem that me mum would be all over my babies, and she’s a wonderful grandmother. I only wish she lived closer, but she’s always joked if I had kids, that that’s what would take her t’ move t’ London,” he says into my hair, and I nod into his smooth skin, my cheek tickled by his chest hair.

“Gemma must have been annoyed with that,” I titter and he agrees.

“‘ve thought ‘bout it too, y’know. Me dad‘s ‘round fer Harper and Ollie, but I dunno if ‘d ever want him ‘round my kids. He fooked up things with me, so why would I let him do tha same with me kids? I don’t want them wonderin’ why their granddad doesn’t come t’ their birthday party this time but did tha last, or t’ see us have a row . . It makes me sad, but y’know, ‘m glad we can relate t’ each other on this stuff, whatta load o’ rubbish it all ‘s.”

“Me too, Harry,” I breathe, tracing the shape of his necklace as his heartbeat thuds in my ear. “I can’t ever see things changing with my mum, but maybe it could with your dad someday . . It’s a good thing we’re not having kids anytime soon, huh?”

“Ya, reckon so, but ‘m already thirty, Becks. Time’s a tickin’ fer me in that father department,” he shares gently, and I wish I could see his eyes and lose myself in them, and maybe drag him along for the ride too. It’s all that I can think of to get rid of the sour remnants of this conversation, one that’s all of my fault.

“Oh, hush. My dad was thirty-four when he had Robbie and I, so you’ll be fine.”

“Ya, but I dunno, rather sure ‘d want kids soon afta gettin’ married,” he hums happily, a longing for the future in his voice. Boy, is it contagious. “Prolly within tha year.”

“Okay, would you chill it with the future talk? As you just said, it’s only been four months, Harry,” I laugh, nervously. A similar sound rumbles through his chest as he hugs me in his arms, smattering kisses along my head.

“Well, maybe four months will turn into forever one day, ya never know, bug,” he says with a lilt in his voice, teasing dripping from it. “C’mon, ya don’t know yet whether or not ya wanna be my Mrs. Styles one day?”

“I can tell what your answer to that question is,” my answer comes out in between apprehensive laughs, my cheeks surely scarlet against his skin.

“I never reveal me secrets, Becks,” he whispers, as if I don’t know it by now. “So, will ya marry me one day?”

“I’ll have to think about it . . ask again in a few months, weirdo.”

The streams of sunlight tease at my eyes while a sensation tickles my neck. Groaning, I shuffle my legs under the covers but they don’t get very far, knocking against another hairy pair.

“Wake up,” somebody coos softly into my ear, followed by a stream of gentle kisses down my face. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to pull the covers higher, but they don’t budge. “Becks,” they say, dragging out the sound of my name as they rub circles into my stomach.

I lay there for a little while longer, dipping in and out of sleep, amongst the sound of my name and indiscernible humming. The next time I open them, the sun is beating through the window and the standing fan whirs along. A pair of arms is secure around my waist, and although used to it, I feel somebody’s prickly stubble against my cheek. I smile into the soft kisses pressed along my face and then a last one to my nose. “Wake up, Boops, ‘s yer birthday. ‘s my baby Becks’ birthday t’day,” Harry croons and I feel his cheeks rounding out from a smile against mine.

“Mmmmm, my twenty-seventh birthday,” I reply, stifling a yawn. They reply with an ‘mmmhmm’ before they hide their face in my neck. “And I get to spend it all with you,” I hum, my thoughts waking me quickly. It’s black and white from my birthday last year, pining away for him as he loved somebody else and ignoring his presents.

No matter how hard I could try, I wouldn’t be able to remember how long it’s been since I’ve had a birthday as good as this one already is, and undoubtedly will be.

“‘m so glad I get t’, bug, ‘s ‘bout time,” he yawns from behind me, stirring under the covers. I whine when his leg moves away from mine and takes its warmth with him. “I didn’t imagine ‘d be wakin’ you up in yer childhood bed, but here we are,” he giggles. “Tha first o’ many birthdays spent t’getha, babe.”

“Yeah,” I reply distractedly, propelled back to this day last year and how robbed I felt of a day that was supposed to be all about me and being happy. That was the last thing I was, it seemed, and it’s like a different life to think about that while Harry kisses the hollow below my ear. My boyfriend, who kicks off a blanket with a groan, a laugh rising from my lips as he complains about being hot.

“‘ve taken off all tha clothes I can and ‘m still bloody boilin.’ God, Becks, could ya be any mo’ o’ a heater, love?” he sighs and I only reply with a loud laugh that grows when his hands roam my body to tickle me. I find his sleepy face painted with a smile when I turn around to face his naked upper half, and it makes me wonder how he could ever be any more perfect than he already is. “What? ‘m sweatin’ over here,” he wheezes, carding a hand through his mess of curls while his eyes shine back at me.

“Nothing, I just . . “

“You jus’ what, love?” he murmurs, threading his fingers into my hair and stroking it away from my face.

“I just, really love you,” I confess, watching the contentment blossom on his face to almost embarrassment.

“I love you too, Rebecca Ann,” Harry beams with that contagious smile again, dipping forward to peck me. “More.”

“No, I do!” I protest, fingering his gold cross necklace that’s warm in my fingers. “I love you most! There!”

“Okay, okay,” he titters, batting a hand at me before pulling me into his chest. “‘ll let you have it, but only cuz ‘s yer birthday, my love,” he coos, surrounding me with his arms and covering my head in kisses.

I silently roll my eyes but I know he hears my huff, “Don’t be a pout on yer birthday, jus’ be happy ‘m lettin’ you get yer way with e’rythin’,” he remarks, muffled against my cheek where his warm breath wafts over me.

“Everything, you say?” I tease, and his intake of air eggs me on.

“Oh, what d’ya want now?”

“Hey, it’s my birthday. I get whatever I want on my birthday, isn’t that what I told you on yours?”

“I don’t rememba those exact words, but yes, my girl can have whatever her heart desires on her birthday,” Harry responds softly, his eyelashes leaving butterfly kisses against me. “What ‘s that li’l brain o’ yers cookin’ up now, huh?”

A laugh peeks out from my lips and he groans in response as I ready my proposal, sure he’s falling back asleep in my arms.

“A baby,” I divulge, and begin to count the seconds after the words have met the air. 1 . . 2 . . 3.

“‘Scuse me?” Harry exclaims, pulling away from me and looking at me with a wild pair of eyes. I find it so hard to hold it back when his green eyes widen further, accompanied by a sudden pallor to his face. “Rebecca Ann-,” he begins adamantly, but the moment the chuckle pours from my lips, he stops. “Woman, I swear- Jesus Christ, ya really are gonna gimme a heart attack one o’ these days.”

“The look on your face, Harry! I wish you could’ve seen it,” I giggle profusely, only fed by the crimson appearance of his cheeks as he shakes his head.

“You li’l smart ass, you,” he tuts, swiftly flipping onto his back and pulling me on top of him. “Y’know, ya kinda hafta be havin’ sex in order t’ have a baby, love, sumthin’ that doesn’t quite exist fer us yet,” Harry remarks with the cutest double chin from below me. I adjust myself lying on top of him so I’m not crushing his lungs, or well, his baby making junk.

“Not yet, anyways,” I murmur with a smirk, enjoying the squirming he does at my words. He giggles and covers his face with both of his arms, exposing as well as hiding some of his tattoos.

Propping my chin on my hand, my elbow finds a place on the mattress as my finger finds its way to his chest. I trace the numbers in my handwriting above his heart, so entirely grateful for this year and mostly all that it’s brought along with it.

“Maybe one day I’ll have a baby with you.”

I hear his wheezy laugh and the happy sigh, because they live inside of me too. His greens are stuck on me from between his peeking hands when I look over and my smile brightens.

“If we’re havin’ kids, ‘s gonna be mo’ than one, ‘ll tell ya that right now, missy.”

Somehow, my lips spread even wider, “How many then, Mr. Styles?” I pose aloud with a raise of my eyebrows at him.

“Five.”

“Harry!” I exclaim and he giggles from behind his hands that his eyes peek out from. At last, he drops them and peers across at me, making me believe in the cuteness that is triple chins. “Five children? Five mouths to feed, lunches to pack, activities to put them in, bedrooms, pairs of shoes, car seats, bums to change, new school clothes and well, new everything every year, and five babies for me to push out of my crotch?”

That really gets him going and soon, a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest and from his lips, but I really couldn’t be complaining. It sparks one from mine too, and only makes me think of what it would be like to do this with him every morning. One day, with a swaddled baby lying to the side, or on his chest. What have I started now?

“Yes, five . . Five kids t’ cuddle, make memories with, take on adventures, introduce Harry Potter t’, bake and cook with, watch grow and do great things, have mosey into our bed at night, maybe teach guitar or piano t’ one or two, teach ‘em so many things, and I hope they all have yer eyes and yer laugh . . Can you imagine all that love, Becks?” Harry says, dreaming aloud with an effervescent look in his eye that I’ve only seen a few times before. “Hey, don’t you do that on yer birthday,” he tuts, but I’ve already started and go to sniffle into the crook of his neck. “Did I say sumthin’ wrong? ‘m sorry if ‘s too soon and-.”

“No, you said everything . . right,” I whisper against his neck, the absence of words letting me feel how it moves with every tick of his pulse. Gulping, I wait for him to answer, but I get it when he begins to hum our song amidst running races up and down my back with his hand.

“Maybe one day- Wait, no. Not ‘maybe,’ hopefully one day,” Harry coos as I stare into the darkness, but this time I’m not afraid or fleeing. I could never feel anything but safe in his arms, and I know our children would too. “Mmmm, ‘m lovin’ tha cuddlin’, but holy shit, am I warm!” he continues, our skin sticking together as he separates from me between our laughs.

After a few trips to the bathroom between us, Harry plops onto the bed and pulls me onto his lap. His lips sponge kisses along my cheek and his arms surround me, almost swallowing me with their span.

“Well, are ya jus’ gonna stare at ‘em or go and open ‘em, bug?” he coos, the hairs on the back of my neck lifting at his words tickling my neck. Turning my head, my excited eyes connect with his, and he nods. “Go already,” he says, kissing me before I leave his arms.

“Which one first?” I ask, crossing the bedroom to kneel in front of the line of gifts set before my dresser and our suitcases.

“Whichever yer li’l heart desires,” he answers. I grab one of the smaller ones and look over to him. “Savin’ tha biggest one fer last, I see.” He folds his hands together, his long arms already turning golden this early in the summer, and so are his legs that his arms drape across.

Giggling, I stand up and make a few trips to bring the presents to the bed.

“Openin’ ‘em up here, are we?” Harry asks with dumbfounded astonishment gracing his tired features.

“Mmmhmm,” is all I say as I settle onto his lap again, and relax when he wraps me up inside of his embrace. Tipping my head to rest on his shoulder, I stare down at the pink and purple flowers that branch across the crisp wrapping paper, and suddenly, it’s like for the second time.

I’m not going to let it happen again. No, not sitting on the floor with his presents before me, and him so far away, if only a few steps. His chest rises and falls with rhythmic breaths and I remain there, moving my ear until I hear the song his heart plays, needing this to feel all the more real. A tear collects at the corner of my eye, reminding me that at times like these, I expect to blink and it’ll all be gone. I wait for myself to wake up from the dream, and to have him ripped away from me, just like all of those other times he was.

But it doesn’t.

I blink and the tear falls, and his lips rest in my hair, waiting for me. His large hand leaves waves and blossoms against my back, and hopes and promises. I make them too, just as silently against him. I promise myself that I’ll never give up on him, and although he doesn’t know, I promise that to him too.

“Open it up, bug, what’re you waitin’ fer? ‘m dyin’ with anticipation here!”

Smiling, I lift my head and don’t waste any time finding his lips with my own, just because I can. He moans a sound against mine and holds onto me, and I know that he would never let me go, either.

No, not again.

“What was that fer?” he breathes half a minute later, staring deep into me.

“Just ‘cause,” I respond and he only smiles back at me, but then he tips his head to meet mine, resting his forehead on mine. He winks and brushes his nose against mine a few times in a different kind of kiss.

“I hope I get anotha one o’ those afta ya open yer presents.”

“We’ll have to see about that, Mr. Styles,” I grin and he amplifies it with a snort, bumping his shoulder against mine to remind me of the present I hold, and his affable impatience.

Wrapping paper still litters the floor, so do purple bows, and Amazon boxes. The shadows of our mingled laughs pepper the air as his hair falls through my fingers, and his slow breaths are whispers against my skin. I let my head fall and my hair dance across his skin before my lips do, ever so gently.

“Sweet dreams, love,” I barely whisper, careful to leave the bed without waking him. At the last second, I turn back and pull the comforter and quilt up his thighs covered in gray shorts, and past his bare shoulders. He’ll need it with his personal heater gone from his side, I think.

Tip toeing across the room, I take careful steps around the pile of presents still sat by our suitcases. The elation and disbelief comes over me in another wave when I see them one by one, starting with the lilac colored Kitchenaid mixer.

“Ya need it fer yer bakin’, love. I know tha kneadin’ part o’ recipes ‘s a bore, and yer handheld one was almost shot. We both know that. Maybe ‘m tellin’ you t’ bake fer me mo,’ I dunno,” he had laughed after my jaw had fallen to my chest, and his faced turned a proud crimson.

“We’re already halfway in, might as well make sure we have tha whole boxset fer when we wanna rewatch it,” Harry told me after I had opened the large box with the five Friends’ faces on it, assuring me that it was just as much a present for him as it was for me. He had kept making it known that that was the theme, so I would stop complaining about him spoiling me too much.

“I can’t take any credit fer that one, which ‘m quite sorry ‘bout, but mum wanted t’ knit ya sumthin’. Told her ya loved blankets, and here we are. Reckon I might have ya keep it at mine so I can steal it too,” runs through my head as I once again rub the chenille type yarn between my fingers at the end of the bed where the knit blanket lies. With a proud grin, I grab two corners and drape it over the sleeping man in my childhood, twin-sized bed, a dated McFly poster hanging over his head.

“This one’s jus’ as much fer me as it ‘s fer you, too,” he kept saying, then for Paul McCartney’s second show at the O2, and then for another pair of tickets to his daughter Stella’s fashion show in just a few weeks.

The same phrase, give or take a few words, flowed from his lips when the bag of candles graced my hands. He explained that we nick so many candles from each other’s offices that it was only natural that he bought me some, seeing as how he’d be stealing some here soon, especially the Tobacco Vanilla, Whiskey Cedar, Sage and Lemon, and the highly coveted Cinnamon Roll one.

The cribbage board was just a bonus, him claiming that he could finally bring his office one home and keep mine at work for us to play on.

What he couldn’t claim his rightful ownership to as well was the card full of unintelligible scribbles from Harper and Ollie, that thank the Gods, Gemma helped them write. The tears in my eyes since the first present grew and grew, and didn’t waver at the message of how Harper wanted to have a sleepover at Harry’s soon with me - nail painting, baking cookies, and all.

But, when I met his eyes with my sad, puppy dog pair, he melted right then and there.

“Harry, this is too much. I can’t accept all of this,” I had told him and he shook his head, lifting my own with his thumb to look in his eyes.

“Please, Becks. I-I hate t’ say it, but I have too much money than I know what t’ do with, and ‘ve been so excited to give you all of these. Don’t worry ‘bout tha money. Alright, my love?”

I gave in, and with the kisses he smothered me with, there was no way in hell I could say no to that face.

He stirs underneath the covers behind me, and so do my thoughts, but with a huff, Harry returns to snoring softly. I carefully open my suitcase and fish out my last clean outfit, and without a sound, walk across the hall and into the shower.

I thought I had made out like a bandit, but when I slip back into my room in search of Post-Its and a pen, I find that somebody else is awake.

“Where are you goin’, Becks?” they rasp, pulling themselves up to sit and the covers pool on his lap. Rubbing at his eyes, Harry cards a hand through his tousled curls, quickly yawning.

“Oh, just to run an errand quick. Go back to bed, I won’t be gone long.”

“Mmmm,” he groans, knuckling at his left eye. “Can’t it wait ‘til we leave this afternoon, bug? Y’know I can’t sleep without you, I get too cold, and miss havin’ you in me arms.”

“No, it can’t. I’m sorry . . You’ll fall right back asleep, Harry, I promise,” I shush him, stepping forward and pressing on his shoulder, but he doesn’t fall back in any of the ways that I’d hoped.

“I’ll come with, then. We can grab some pastries from that bakery you love fer brekky with yer dad.”

“It’s okay, I will if you want. Please, Harry, go back to sleep. You were up late, you must have a headache from all of those drinks with Robbie. I dunno why you pair had to have a shots competition,” I insist, and my distraction makes a raspy laugh fall from his mouth.

“I like yer brotha, y’know, he’s a funny git,” he drawls, rubbing his hands down his face once before pulling back the covers. “Can I come? ‘ll be mo’ awake after I have a shower.”

“I dunno,” I nervously laugh, tucking a wet lock of hair behind my ear. Huffing, I smooth down the floral skirt of my dress and sit on the edge of my bed. Thoughts whizz around in my head, flying to that destination and the next, but this one isn’t sure where to go.

“If ya really don’t want me t’, ‘s okay. ‘m sorry t’ pressure ya, babe.”

“It’s okay, Harry. I’d like you to come, but . . I dunno,” I reveal, toying with the ring and starting at the corner of my eye, I watch his hands still my pair that wring each other.

“Don’t hafta tell me if ya don’t wanna, I trust you y’know.”

Nodding, I wonder how I had ever gotten so damn lucky with this one. A split second giggle tickles at my lips, and then the toying turns into twirling, and then, telling.

“She would’ve been eighty-five today, I think,” the whisper fights to make itself known, and I can’t meet his eyes, but I think I hear it in his breathing when he connects the dots. The spinning of the ring, and the tracing of the flower, frozen in time. “I bring her flowers every year, just wildflowers I find on the side of the road. I’ve wanted to bring a cupcake and sing before blowing it out, but it seemed odd to eat it sitting there, when she can’t,” I continue, the frog jumping into my throat at the end there.

His words are absent, but they’re the least bit of that and so is my surprise when my head meets his shoulder, and his fingers trickle through my hair.

“You don’t have to come with, if you don’t want to,” I pipe up, grabbing hold of the smooth chain around his neck. The swallows beckon for me, and I trace their wings slowly, wondering how silky they’d feel if they were alive on his chest.

“I’d like t’ come with, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, it’s more than okay,” I respond, my thumb and finger holding onto the cross when my arms go around his neck, and he lifts me onto his lap.

“I wish I coulda met her, yer Grandma Ann . . but bringin’ flowers t’ her grave sounds rather special too. Yer tha sweetest, Becks, y’know that?”

“So do I, she would’ve loved you,” I say, watching the tear glide down the slope of his back, and past the golden hairs lit by the sunrise behind the curtains.

“Does yer dad go with you?”

“Sometimes, maybe he will today.”

“‘d like that,” Harry coos, drawing the letters of my name, one by one, along my spine. I only know that because he’d told me last night when I couldn’t fall asleep, and he was happily buzzed.

I think that’s why I couldn’t, because how could my dreams beckon for me when my life was finally better than anything I could dream about?

“Ya mean it, tha best ever? In tha whole, entire history o’ birthdays, ever and ever?” they titter and its feeling against my cheek brings one forth onto my lips.

“You’re so silly, but yes. I had an amazing birthday, Harry. One to remember.”

“Good, bug. ‘m glad t’ hear. Only tha best fer me favourite girl,” he coos, dragging his nose along my cheek.

“Maybe next year for my birthday you can grow your hair out again for my birthday present.”

“Oh, really? That’s whatcha want? Hmm, I was thinkin’ o’ givin’ you a baby fer yer twenty-eighth,” he giggles, the rich smell of coffee hinting on his breath. Now, it’s my turn to giggle and I share it into his neck, our chests bumping when he pulls me closer. I steal a kiss from his swallow and nuzzle in deeper as he drapes the blanket his mum knitted for me over us, sinking further into his sofa.

“Stop it with the baby talk, marriage comes first, dumbo.”

“Fine then, ‘ll getchu a ring fer yer birthday,” he continues and I hide my reddening cheeks in the place between his shoulder and neck. Monica laughs at something on the TV behind us, but my focus darts to the melodic kisses he sponges along my neck, and his nose nudging at my shirt.

“Shush it, I’m not going anywhere,” I insist, revealing my scarlet cheeks to his smiling eyes.

“Better not, I dunno what ‘d do if ya did.”

“It’s a good thing neither of us have to worry about that, huh?” I return, tapping my finger on his nose. He nods and brushes his thumb under my eye where he often traces the imperfection that lives there.

“‘m lookin’ forward t’ mo’ weekends at yer Dad’s. It was loads o’ fun gettin’ t’ see where ya grew up, tha house ya grew up in, yer old schools, tha park at tha pond, and bloody hell, that night out back by tha bonfire,” he says, words falling into a sound of happiness. “I can’t remember tha last time I had so much Tequila. Fook, can that brotha o’ yers drink, and yer dad too. And that pizza yer dad made, ugh, ‘m gonna need anotha one o’ those soon. I miss playin’ board games so much like that, I see where ya get tha love o’ it from. I ‘specially loved playin’ on yer family piano with you, reckon we might make a good pair if we practice some mo’.”

Giggling, I agree with him as my fingers mingle with his necklace, “Yeah, it was a birthday to remember, that’s for sure.”

“Reckon so, and I couldn’t be gladder to hear that, bug. Remember last year’s wasn’t tha best, you’ve said. I hope they only get betta and betta, my love,” Harry croons, and I nod, sure that they will.

It all seems to be a hill that I get to climb by his side, but it’s the least bit tiring, and all the more exhilarating with every step that I take.

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number5theboy · 4 years

Text

ALRIGHT

THIS SEASON

IT WAS A LOT

my liveblogged thoughts under the cut

Episode 1

· Exhilarating! I love Ben

· Ben already has more lines in these first five minutes than he had in the first season

· This montage is good

· ALLISON BABY

· Luther yelled for Diego first I love this

· Diego is immediately in vigilante mode…….hot

· THE SHOT PARELLING VANYA’S FIRST WORDS

· Vanya is a mess we love to see it

· The shot of Five’s feet hitting the puddle? So aesthetically pleasing

· The battle scene is such a smart way of reintroducing everyone’s powers and their Final Form™ succinctly

· I love Hazel. So much.

· The Umbrella Atomic Explosion™ is SO clever I love it

· ALRIGHT UNCHARTERED TERRITORY LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOO

· Oh Hazel and Five make me soft

· Agnes and Hazel had a good life

· Hazel is so dead

· Welp that took no time at all

· “How many times did I say bulletproof briefcases?” ily mister five

· I love the Swedes they’re stupid

· Are we ever gonna know what Agnes made Hazel promise?

· Five is honestly world’s best character

· FUTURE HEADQUARTERS

· “Well the truth is out there!” abkdkblhlkbkhl

· I shouldn’t make quick judgments, but conspiracy nut guy is nice and I hope he doesn’t turn out evil, because I also through Harold was nice in the beginning

· Diego got himself arrested already what an idiot

· Asddjgflkflhfl Diego’s problems all put out

· Okay, set-up for Diego’s character arc of self-actualisation we love to see it

· Lila is awesome, but I hope they don’t make her crush on him excessively

· Diego and Five is an underrated duo

· THEY ARE SO BICKERY

· Five is jut gonna murder him sometime along the way

· I LOVE FIVE SO MUCH WHAT A LITTLE SHIT

· Oof Vanya is so cute in that outfit

· This scene perfectly encapsulates women having to listen to men

· VANYA’S GOING TO MILFTOWN Y’ALL

· I cannot tell white men apart, does Carl look like conspiracy nut guy or is it just me?

· As usual, Ben and Klaus are bad at everything

· “neither does your beard” icon Ben Hargreeves

· I support Ben pummelling Klaus

· I passionately hate the beard and love the coat

· Why do all the white men look alike, I thought this poker dude was a Swede

· I KNEW BEN WAS LYING

· “Pick a better time to self-actualise!”

· I still hate the beard, let’s see if it grows on me

· Yusuf Gatewood………….hot

· By far the hottest couple so far in TUA

· Please tell me she’s not still hung up on Luther

· Yes she is goddammit

· The moon thing is cute though, I can appreciate that

· Luther finally gets a well-soundtracked fight scene I love it

· OI THAT WAS BRUTAL HOLY SHIT

· Oh Luther is pulling a Five in feeling bad about his excessive violence

· I already hate his boss

· Raymond marry me pls

· Allison marry me pls

· OH MY GOD VANYA LAUGHED

· Sissy and Vanya have excellent chemistry

· Oh I see the deliberate parallel with Vanya, Umbrella Academy, you aren’t fooling me

· SWEDISH ASSASSINS BABY

· Do you think they’ll say a single word or?

· Literally the only way this show knows how to signal danger is through flickering lights

· Two bopping fight scene and Five hasn’t been in any of them

· Lila and Diego have no braincells between them it’s beautiful

· Alright, she knows how to fight……..supicious

· If this show wasn’t so hellbent on making Luther and Allison a thing, he would be best ace rep

· Lmao “I don’t give a shit” I love you Luther

EPISODE TWO

· ALRIGHT THE HANDLER IS BACK???????

· Okay so Hazel and Cha-Cha are dead but that pestilence still runs around??? Bruuuuuuuuuh

· Kate Walsh is still hot though

· AJ??????

· THE FISH SMOKES?!?

· God the Commission is such a capitalist hellhole

· Oh there we have 743

· H E R B

· Okay I am here to see her humiliated but please no redemption arc for her

· I love the deliberate parallels between Five and the Handler

· “Like a masseuse?” IDIOTS

· Oh Five is so lost and vulnerable baby boy

· Also the character developments in Luther!!!!!

· “Dad should’ve left him on the moon.” Five is, simply said, an icon

· Oof Sissy is SO cute

· I’m already not ready for Five to find Vanya

· Lila is so extra can we keep her

· Great now I have sympathy for Carl

· Luther’s new outfit looks so good on him

· OH LUTHER IS THE FIRST ONE TO SEE HER

· Well that was dramatic and didn’t lead anywhere

· Alright two episodes in, Civil Rights plotline hasn’t been fucked up yet

· WHAT THE FUCK IS THE SWEDE DRINKING SO CONSCPICOUSLY

· ELLIOTT IS THE NAME OF MISTER CONSPIRACY

· “cousins on my robot mother’s side”

· “Imagine Batman, then aim lower.”

· Lila is great I love her

· Diego is gonna throw both Five and Lila through a wall at some point

· Five is so ready to throw Diego under the bus

· Klaus Hargreeves, world’s worst cult leader

· ……….did Klaus built a cult on pop lyrics?

· Klaus and Raymond bonding I love it

· DIEGO AND FIVE BEST TEAM

· REGINALD IS THE UMBRELLA MAN

· OH LUTHER IS GONNA FIND HER HOLY SHIT

· THE BARN FROM THE PROMO PICTURE

· This scene is so good

· “You shouldn’t be the one to apologise.” I’M GONNA CRY

· Tom Hopper and Ellen Page are so good in this scene

· WHY DID HE LEAVE

· What the flying fuck is up with the Swedes

· BRO WHAT THE FUCK

· Is Five ever gonna bring up the fact that he was supposed to kill Kennedy or?

· Raymond is wasted on someone who doesn’t give him her whole heart

· What the FUCK, Klaus

· Why does she remember her name tho

· The violin starting up when she talks about the callouses on Vanya’s hands

· Brotherly bonding is my new favourite scene

· Do the filmmakers know that your scene can be suspenseful and well-lit

· Okay maybe baby Pogo is cute

· There is gonna be no Five murdering spree, the blood is solely from Pogo

· Next well-soundtracked fight scene

· The choreography of this!!!!!

· Man Reginald is a shitty dad before he even becomes a dad

· Diego cannot catch a break poor baby

EPISODE 3

· SHITTY WIG ON KLAUS ALERT

· THE LEVITATION IS BEN I HATE THIS

· So far, all title card umbrellas have not disappointed

· You are running in a straight line you really should hit her

· Yep, Watchmen flashbacks

· Luther remains cute and awkward

· THEY ARE TALKING TO EACH OTHER BABY

· S E Q U I N S

· SNEAKY LADY ALLISON IS BACK

· FINALLY

· A HUG

· Allison and Klaus are so cute

· What in the goddamn Looney Tunes is this outfit lady

· WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU LADY

· ALLISON HARGREEVES YOU QUEEN

· This spooky ghost show is great

· Everyone going off on Five is great

· @ this show stop ripping Vanya and Five apart and let them be soft

· Diego is so naked this entire season

· Diego and Lila are a good dynamic

· Elliott is a babe I love him

· The Handler continues to be creepy about Five

· So much driving

· Luther is baby and Raymond deserves better than to deal with all the baggage from all the Hargreeves brothers

· HE SHAVED THE BEARD

· Ouch this is awkward

· I don’t get why they didn’t cast normal Dave to play young Dave they’re not that far apart in age

· Oh he’s gonna have to let Dave go

· Oh this scene must be so triggering

· Oh shit’s bad and it’s only episode 3

· PUPPY???

· WE WERE RIGHT ABOUT LILA

· WHAT DO YOU MEAN THANKS MOM

EPISODE 4

· Oh my god the Handler is pure fucking evil

· She learnt the fighting from her mom alright

· THE RED BOOTS WERE THERE ALL ALONG

· Man I hoped that the antisemitism was gone

· Vanya being protective of Luther :’)

· Luther only has shitty father figures

· I can’t believe they were better organised last season

· Why do you hate the Vanya/Five dynamic so much, show?

· Five got an extra dose of asshole today this season huh

· Reggie is probably the twelfth

· Oh boy Klaus is a trainwreck

· That marriage is also a trainwreck

· I understand Ray though

· Why is there Styx on this soundtrack

· Oh Klaus baby

· GALA NIGHT BITCHES

· Five is a smart young old man

· Oh baby is eating his heart out

· Oh the hug makes me soft though

· Honestly, Tom Hopper and Emmy Raver Lampman have such cute chemistry

· AWKWARD DARLING MAN

· “Doomsday” *nervous chuckle*

· Ballroom lessons as kids

· This is an excellent dance scene

· OH MY GOD MOM WAS MADE AFTER A REAL WOMAN

· THIS SHOW MAN THIS SHOW

· Reggie is gross

· Diego’s mommy AND daddy issues are put on blast this season

· Sissy is such a babe

· Man we got budget BUDGET for this season

· Alright, the white violin can revive people now cool cool cool

· How different her powers are when powered by love

· I love Elliott I hope he survives the eason

· I am down for Luther and Elliott getting high together

· LET’S GO LESBIIIAAAAAAAAAANS

· God Allison and Klaus make me so soft

· I am very supportive of Elliott and Luther becoming bros

· You already shanked one son, go poker stick another one

· YES EXCELLENT FIGHT MUSIC

· They both?????? Just left him to fend for himself??????????

· Ancient Greek??? Bitch what

· This show is rated for violence and we have barely seen any!!!!!! What!!!!!!!

Episode 5

· Okay baby Pogo and Grace is adorable

· Why is Pogo in space now

· THEY KILLED POGO

· AGAIN

· Hargeeves got a hug before Five did what the effing fuck

· He might be a dick but his instincts are good

· Haha old cowboy

· Ben is so done

· Vanya……..Sissy……..my heart

· Wow Reginald continues to be a massive arse

· Luther/Diego/Five are DUMB and I love them

· “No, bro, he shanked your heart.”

· God the Handler!!!!!!

· THE MUSIC AT THE REUNION

· We didn’t even see Five reunite with Allison and Klaus!!!!!

· GOD WHAT A SISTERLY UPGRADE

· KLAUS VANYA AND ALLISON HUGGING

· Allison and Diego rights babey!!!

· Are the Swedes ever gonna say something or

· LILA AND FIVE TEAM-UP LET’S GO

· I’VE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH I’M GONNA CRY BABY

· The red-blue dynamic in Luther and Diego I live for that

· Luther and Diego are gooooooood together

· What is up with that

· Klaus, Vanya and Allison are dumbasses and I love them so much

· Alright where are the Swedes doing and why is that tree so creepy

· Oh the youngest Swede just went tits-up

· Please tell me Five is finally getting a fight scene

· Excellent fight scene

· Great, now I feel sad for the Swedes

· They deffo have a cooler aesthetic than Hazel and Cha-Cha

· This cover is beautiful

EPISODE 6

· This wig looks better than Klaus’

· Also Ben has barely been in this season where is he at

· Oof Ray is so cute

· The Handler and Five have such good chemistry holy shit

· Diego, Luther and Vanya are a god-tier dynamic

· We love the CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

· BENNY BOY HAS A CRUSH

· Wait how is this only episode six I feel like this is already the pensum of the first season

· Clothing montage baby!!!!!

· God they look so good together

· Oh Allison can be RUTHLESS

· THE BINGO CARDS

· Oh no no no no I didn’t think Klaus and Dave could be even more tragic

· THEY TALK

· God she is so fucking creepy stop lusting after a child

· World’s most satisfying elevator shot

· This scene is chaos I love it

· God everyone just harps on Diego’s daddy issues jesus

· Oh baby no

· Oh babies no

· NO NOT THE DISSOLUTION OF TEAM ZERO

· Why are there so many antisemitic dogwhistles in this

· This scene between Five and Reginald is good

· NOT ELLIOTT

· Oh no no no no Carl

· Alright at least this promises a good fight scene

EPISODE 7

· This polka music bops

· Wait how did he get to 1982

· HE SAID FUCK

· Man Carmichael was out so quick

· No fish-eating?

· Awwwww Klaus and Ben have a heart to heart

· Oh God, Diego and Luther have no brain activity between the two of them

· That is a Look

· Oh this montage of Ben rediscovering touch

· The writing of this show was oddly prophetic

· Oh wait Vanya’s gonna be incarcerated too right????

· Oh this is heart-breaking

· Really?????? Ben’s the dorky one???

· Oh my god Ben is getting a hug and Diego is so soft

· Man why are Five and Vanya so antagonistic

· FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

· Dude a fight between them would have been so epic

· Diego

· You idiot

· Oh Allison really loves him and he loves her

· Oh I am so sad

· Yeah this episode is infinitely worse than the day that wasn’t

· FUCK YEAH BACKSTREET BOYS

· What the fuck

· Yo that is sadistic as fuck Allison what the flying fuck

· This scene might ruin the song for me

· There definitely was an easier way out

· They fucked it up

· I am not surprised

EPISODE 8

· Oh she speaks Russian

· Five just snapped and honestly deserves it

· Yeah I feel for the Swede

· What is it with commission assassins and axes this season

· “Your vagina needs fresh glasses.”

· Nepotism

· Oh Grace is turning on him baby!!

· Ha remember when we were all like ‘oh no they’re making Reggie sympathetic’

· Yeah so much for that

· Five and Luther are……..soft

· What the fuck is up with that

· AYYYY BUTTHOLE SURFERS ON THE SOUNDTRACK

· Oooooohhhhhhh trippy kid scene

· Also Reggie is bad at German

· I love Luther and Five so much

· We finally get to see older Five’s tie pattern

· Alright Lila makes me uncomfortable

· FIVE IS GONNA GO FERAL Y’ALL LET’S GO

· Man after the last rampage you’d think they’d upped security in this place

· Herb for president!!

· Some catch Diego’s ego is going berserk

· Oh not again

· Dot is a rebel now

· Everyone is ragging on Five, even Five

· This is so trippy

· Oh yeah the brains. Forgot about those.

· I……….sad

· Oh my god oh my god oh my god

· Of course it’s all the government’s fault

· Love how they just walked into an FBI building

· Bro what the fuck is going on

EPISODE 9

· Allison is always there for Vanya and I love her

· Hello Klaus and Diego are so cute

· Oh my heart you go Klaus

· So much for that

· BUT BEN

· YOU ARE CLIFF-HANGERING BE INSIDE AN EPISODE

· Crazy Five is an idiot I love him

· “I’m the daddy here” is not the gazelle, but it’ll do in a pinch

· The 743!!!!!!

· Oh God, Harlan is in danger

· She loves him?!? You barely know the man!!!!!!

· WHAT’S ON THE PAPER

· Oh it’s her file

· HELLO LET US SEE THE FIVES TYING TO OFF EACH OTHER

· This continues to be trippy

· These visuals are so stunning

· This is my favourite scene so far, this is so good, this is an excellent talk

· NO

· NOT BEN

· “I’m askin’, Carl.” You go Sissy, love you, you’re doing excellent

· Alright, we have a mini-Vanya here

· Oh I hate the Handler so fucking much she is the worst

· What a plot-twist

· Oh god so much is going on in this season

· Oh we get fish-eating, but it’s not Five? That’s lame

· Why are they all so hell-bent on making stupid decisions

· Klaus you idiot

· Oh that SON OF A BITCH HARGREEVES

· What the fuck what is on the dark side of the moon

· What the flying fuck what the fuck what tebdjbdgkbjdsgkbjgsdjgnj

· WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE GOING TO WAR

EPISODE 10

· Oh the kids are back for Ben’s funeral

· I hate this

· Reginald is just. The worst.

· My emotions are all over the place

· Oh……..babies

· OH MY GOD DIEGO

· AND FIVE

· It wouldn’t hurt to go to an abandoned farm

· God this is a family of shitty choices

· I don’t want Ben to be gone

· FAMILY TIME

· Oh shit I totally forgot about the last Swede

· BRO THE STAKES

· YEAH THIS LOOKS BAD

· ALRIGHT Harland is gonna be alright

· All these assassins have shit aim

· HE’S MATRIXING

· LILA’S ONE OF THE 43

· SHE CAN ABSORB AND REDIRECT THEIR ENERGIES

· ONE OF THEM ONE OF THEM ONE OF THEM

· Awwwwww they love each other

· Oh great THEY’RE DEAD AGAIN

· Oh now LILA will have to fix the timeline

· Wait now they’re all dead

· The swede to the rescue?

· Please tell me she’s dead for good this time

· We love a de facto protagonist saving everyone’s asses once more

· GO VANYA SAVE THE BABY

· Dot and Herb are precious dumbasses

· This is heart-breaking, but I understand Sissy so much

· WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS CLIFFHANGER

#tua spoilers #not that you'd understand much if you don't watch the episodes #personal #come yell at me in my inbox please

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