#that car only came into production almost ten years after the setting of this fic

[daughterofhecata]

The worst part about writing historical AUs is having to fact-check almost everything to make sure it actually existed already.

#writing #fanfiction #writblr #especially when you're writing about a different country on top of it #had to check when thermos bottles have been invented and since when the l.a. times exists #and i thought hey i can just give hugenay the oldtimer he drives in mord unter palmen! #wrong. #that car only came into production almost ten years after the setting of this fic #yes this is about the noir au #we're coming up on 5.5k and i'm still not finished #this will be a 6k thing *at minimum* #kaj rambles

[supersizemeplz]

We Meet Again

Incubus!Erik Stevens x Black PlusSized Female

Another #supersizedfic Halloween fic. I know, I know. It isn’t October yet but I wanted this to jumpstart my writings for it. I definitely want to push out more creepy/scary fics around that month. Let’s call this practice. Also, I’m calling him an incubus but I’m not sure if he fits that category fully in this. Idk. Enjoy!

Song suggestion: Algorhythm by Childish Gambino

"Come on down to Moreen's Super Savin-" The commercial was clipped short as the screen went black. It had to be the millionth time it'd came on in the past two weeks and it was becoming repetitive. The young woman sat the remote on the glass coffee table before she stood. Her adoring pet took that as her cue to hop down as well and follow her owner close.

"How about a snack, Mina? We deserve that right?" She spoke to the puppy as if she'd reply. Well she kind of did with a bark and shake of her tail. Sierra made her way to the fridge and pulled open the freezer. Only to be met with ice trays and frozen meats. Frowning a bit, she looked down to her animal companion.

"Looks like we're out, mamas." Closing the door, she made her way to the dining room table. Grabbing her keys from atop a local Moreen's Super Savings ad paper. She took a quick look in the hallway mirror and made a quick 180 to head up the stairs to her bedroom. "I guess I need something to cover up, huh."

Keys jingled in a hurried dance as she moved, sounding along with the calmed patter of the loyal four little paws. Out of the bedroom once she'd grabbed a hoodie, through the hallway, and down the stairs. Sierra slipped her braids into a bun atop her head, adjusting the silk headband that protected her edges.

Turning to the eager little bichon frise at her feet, she squatted to talk to the puppy. Mina. "Mommy will be back, ok? I'll get us some snacks from the store." She chuckled as Mina barked her reply. With a soft head rub, Mina turned away satisfied as she went back to play with her toys.

Locking the door behind her, Sierra made her way to her car. She was craving vanilla wafers and ice cream. The wind was a bit chilly as she got further from the house, picking up just a little. Fall was slowly making its way and she was amped for the holidays to start rolling in.

With a soft close of the car door, her right index finger pressed the start button to bring the car to life. The time on the radio read twenty minutes until ten o'clock which was just enough time for her to make it before the store's closing. Once she'd set the radio to a slow R&B jam, she was on her way.

A quick ten minute ride was all it took to reach the store since traffic was basically non-existent. Weird but not impossible. She pulled into the nearly empty parking lot without a second thought and turned off the car. "Out and in, two minutes." The words were a mumble as they left her lips, more so a reminder that the store would close soon and she needed not to slow poke.

"Welcome to Moreen's Super Savings." A lone cashier spoke to her as soon as she entered. She smiled with a polite greeting in reply before heading off to the frozen section. Her house shoes made little noise as she found the ice cream selection with ease. A glance to her watch showed she had eight minutes until closing. She had to hurry.

"Hi, how are you?" Her southern hospitality showed as she passed a man that occupied the aisle as well. Not really paying attention to any of his details. Her mission was ice cream, not a man. He gave a polite smile and simple reply, looking over to her once he heard her voice. From her quick glance, she could see his hands were empty though he seemed to be looking for a frozen dessert as well.

The moment between them came and went as she began her quick search once again. "Ah-ha." She spoke the small victory, grabbing the last personal sized vanilla blue bell pint. "Now to the cookies and then something for Mina." With a quick stride she went over two aisles to find the large variety of cookies.

Squatting down to look at the vanilla wafers on the bottom shelf, she saw someone standing at the end of the aisle out of her peripheral. She thought nothing of that as well until a weird feeling fell over her. And the figure was still there. Raising a brow, she looked over to where the figured stood. Or where it should've been. No one was there.

"Hmm." She gave a quick hum of confusion as she stood from her current position. With her choice of cookies in hand. Her head turned both ways to see if she was just imagining things and after seeing that no one was really there, she decided she was. A quick shoulder shrug ended the paranoid thought and she went on her way to get her last items. Coming to the end of the aisle, she stopped to look for the overhead sign to direct her to the pet aisle. Moreen's was kind of new to the town and she had only been here a total of three times, including now.

"Household, paper products, pets." She began her lengthy walk across the store, passing three aisles before she noticed that someone was mirroring her from the other end of the aisles. It could be ignored and pushed aside as a coincidence until she stopped to pretend that her sock needed adjusting. Only for the figure at the other end to stop as well. "What the hell?" She stood quickly to see who was the asshole sending her paranoia through the roof. She knew this store gave off weird vibes. Just as she looked up to see his face, the store went dark and its usual cheery pop songs went silent.

Her gasp was caught in her throat as her grip tightened on the old container of ice cream. She didn't even register the thought of it slowly attempting to escape its containment. Those big brown eyes of hers kept looking to the spot where the man had stood before the power cut.

"Shit." A short curse left her lips as the once frozen dessert made a mess of her hand. Giving one last glance to the spot, she slowly stepped backwards towards the registers before hurrying to it. Her eyes darted around the area to make sure she was still alone as she attempted to rid her hands of the sticky sweet. "There is no way they closed this damn store with me still inside. The cashier literally spoke to me when I walked in the door."

The door.

Sierra discarded the paper towel that was little help as she looked to the large glass double doors. Her exit. She almost scolded herself for getting so worked up, letting her fear of being in the dark affect her sense. Putting pep in her step, she made her way to the door with a quickness. A quick tug to the handle was supposed to ease her heart rate but it sent it soaring. Locked? Why in the hell is it locked? Oh no. She was trapped here, in the dark with her paranoia. Her back turned to press against the doors. "I just had to watch those damn scary movies today."

The dark aisles seemed to mock her as she scanned across them as quick as she could from where she stood. The light that came in from the windows of the store front could only reach so far. With a shivering hand, she fumbled to pull her phone from her pockets. "No, no, no!" She whisper yelled, holding the side buttons to try and make the screen come to life. Only to be met with the screen that told her that her phone was dead. "You were just on fifty percent. How the fuck could you be dead?"

A loud thud from her left caught her off guard, causing her to tense up and her phone to fall to the ground with a soft clap. She looked frantically to the direction of the noise as it's echo sent chills over her. "H-Hello?" Her words stuttered out as she slowly bent to pick up your phone. Maybe it's an employee? "I think you guys locked me in by accident.."

Still like a tree planted by the water, she didn't move. No one answered her call but she had an eerie feeling that she wasn't alone. "Come on, girl. You're stronger than this, remember what Dr. Hamina said.. Fears are nothing more than a state of mind. You're ok." Finally pulling her feet from the invisible glue that held them, she took a slow step forward. "There has to be an emergency door around here somewhere."

In the distance, just barely behind a faraway aisle, those four familiar red letters caught her eyes. "Exit." Hope sparked in her mind and she was happy to know there was another way out. The trick now was getting to the other side without being caught by the man that lurked in the shadows.

As if he'd known she'd thought of him, his voice surrounded her like a cloud. "Sierraaa. Don't be afraid of me, beautiful.." A sudden, single light cut on in the center of the aisles. Close enough to the back that she was directly across the supermarket from him. The soft buzz of the light could faintly be heard from where she stood. She squeezed her phone this time to cope with the fear piercing her as she took another step backwards towards the door.

"How do you know my name? W-Who are you?" She couldn't hide her fear if she wanted to. The waver of her voice gave it away and she hated that it. Because he chuckled at her. His back was to her and she could just make out him looking over his shoulder back at her. In an instant, the light cut out and it was darkness again before a different light popped on. This one was closer than the last but she still couldn't make him out fully. It was only his clothes that gave away his identity as the man that she'd spoken to on the ice cream aisle when she'd came in earlier.

"You don't remember me, sweetness?" He pretended to be offended, finally turning to reveal his face before the lights turned off. It popping back on with him closer. "All the nights we spent together during your college years, just as you were finding yourself. The nights we spent together.. in your dreams, sweetness." That name, that voice. That face.

"E-Erik?" His voice suddenly found its place in her mind. In those memories she'd locked away. "You're not real? H-How are you-? How did you-?"

She'd went through a weird patch in her early stages of youth and adulthood. Her grandmother had called it 'spirit soaring'. The gift ran through the women in her family, but she seemed to be the only one who couldn't keep her control of it. The first few times were innocent during her teen years with short trips around the home for just a minute. That soon crept up to her soul venturing around her neighborhood to see what night could bring. Snowballing into a faint obsession.

Her grandmother had warned her plenty times before of the addictions of her lucid dreaming. But she'd assured herself she could control it. Then she'd met Erik, the man of her dreams, literally. He'd resembled an actor she'd adored and that was his bait. Everything was perfect between the two until it would inch closer to her having to leave him. And he didn't like that, he wanted her company full time. He'd began to find ways to prolong her visits with him.

She began to notice that he wasn't under her control like everything else in her dreams. It honestly scared her. His demeanor changed and he became obsessed with her, finding ways to pull her under when she'd fall asleep. Passive aggressive and manipulating were his sudden traits. The last time she'd seen him ended with a scuffle. Scarring his left eye and her getting away by a hair.

"How I found you?" He spoke her thoughts, finally allowing her to see his face. That familiar scar was healed now. Making him look like a monster from some horror film. "I never lost you, sweetness. I've just waited patiently.. watching you from the shadows..." He took a step towards her, taking in the sweet scent of her fear. "Never..out of..reach."

The lights began to flicker and her adrenaline started pumping. Sierra began to rack her mind for an escape. The exit sign. It was the same escape route she'd use in her dreams long ago. Her feet started their movement before it fully registered in her mind. "Just make it to the door."

Erik's laughter filled the air around her, loud and mocking as she kept her quick pace. "You can run, but you can't hide. Escape is inevitable.." His words were chilling to hear. He really wanted her for himself.

The door seemed to be getting further away. Like she was running backwards. Tears began to gloss her eyes as she became weaker. Her legs were getting tired, but she pressed on. Just make it to the door. Still the door grew smaller with every attempt to reach it.

"Nooo!" Her knees hit the ground below her, meeting the cold tile floor. "It can't end like this.. Leave me ALONE!!" She screamed into the darkness. A last effort to fight her attacker.

The air was still once her echos silenced. Her eyes moved around as best they could in the darkness. The light above her popped on and the slow echo of footsteps in the darkness came towards her. She trembled where she sat, trying to crawl to the door as best she could.

Erik emerged from the darkness like a villain and stopped just before her. "When will you learn sweetness? Running will only tire you out.." He squatted before her, bringing a hand to her cheek to rid it of a stray tear. "Stay with me and we can spend this life together. Happily. Forever."

"This moment.." He spoke lowly, eyes glazed with lust. "I have been waiting for this moment for so long, my sweetness, to have you all to myself.." He rolled his shoulders as he hummed. "..And here we are. Alone, at last. Destined to be brought together as one."

Licking his lips, he held a smirk at the corner of his lips. "Isn't this what we once dreamed for? To be together forever?" His smile widened at her drooping eyes as they fought to stay open. "Well, I did. At least."

Her lips tried to speaks but all her energy was being drained. His voice began to sound distorted to her. She didn't want him to win this time. Have to..stay..awake. Darkness.

"Ma'am? Ma'am? Can you hear me?" The voice was far off in the darkness, barely audible. Sierra fought to make out the words on her mind. Please don't let him win. Her body wouldn't listen to her in her struggle. She screamed internally at herself to wake up, wanting whoever was trying to talk to her know that she could hear them. It seemed to take forever. "There you go. Breathe."

She had shot up to a seated position, breathing heavily and looking around to see if he was still there. Her eyes held worry as she was only met with two E.M.T. and a small group of employees in the distance. The female E.M.T gave an assuring smile to ease her nerves, though it didn't help much. Though it did calm her a little to see a friendly face. "An employee found you laying in the aisle, nearly unresponsive. So we're gonna take you to the hospital and make sure everything is okay. Are you alright with that, hunny?"

All Sierra could do was nod, needing to get out of this damned store. She'd never come back here, that was for damned sure. The medical duo eased her onto a stretcher and gave her a water for her throat. Since she hadn't uttered a word since she came to. "We'll do a few check ups in the truck on the way there. You just let me know if anything feels weird suddenly or hurts. Ok..."

Tears blurred Sierra's vision as she was lifted into the ambulance, listening to the distant sounds of the medical personnel that assured that she would be just fine. Her mouth didn't open and their words didn't register as she looked forward. Not directly looking to the group of employees that watched her being taken away, but more so to what was behind them where he stood. He was relaxed as he watched her with a smirk. His words rung off in her head as she noticed him vanish behind the passing of employees heading back inside. "Alone, at last. Destined to brought together as one.." She was stuck with him forever.

#black reader #erik stevens #erik x reader #oneshot #halloween fic #supersize the spooky

[vcg73]

FIC: Kurt Birthday Drabbles

Earlier this week @elledelajoie left a comment on something I wrote all the way back in 2014.  I had genuinely forgotten I ever started it, but the original idea was to write 21 Kurt Hummel birthday drabbles. I had written just 7 of them, but after we chatted about it, I decided to go ahead and finish.  

If you’re not familiar, a drabble is a scene of exactly 100 words, not counting title headers. Since Chris Colfer and Kurt Hummel’s co-birthday (May 27) is coming up this Thursday, here they are. This goes definite AU at Birthday #19. Because you know I would never sentence my beloved Kurt to a life of being a doormat to people who did not appreciate and value him.

Never underestimate the power of feedback!

~*~*~*~*~

Birthday #1

Kurt’s blue eyes went wide as a frosted cupcake was set upon his high-chair tray, a single candle ablaze on its surface.  

When Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Andy, Grandpa Curtis and Grandma Eileen started singing to him, he smiled and clapped both hands hard around the tempting pile of frosting.

Kurt laughed when the sugary topping went flying and a big splatter of white abruptly decorated Daddy’s surprised face.

Everyone else started laughed too, including the startled father, who retaliated by giving his birthday boy a sticky peck on the cheek and then helped him to blow out a new candle.

Birthday #2

Kurt looked between his presents, confused.

Mommy had given him the pretty dolly he had begged for at the store. Daddy had given him a truck, not big enough to ride but too big to live with the little cars Daddy gave him at Christmas.

His parents seemed to be mad at each other.

Kurt looked at the doll, then at the truck. He smiled and placed Dolly inside the truck and began to drive her around the carpet.

Mommy and Daddy seemed surprised by his actions, but then they laughed, and Kurt knew he had figured out the puzzle.

 Birthday #3

His shoes were black and shiny, buckles on the sides and 1-inch heels on the base. He clomped over the hardwood floors, listening to the click-tap-click-tap in delight. They went perfectly with his dove gray coveralls with “Kurt” sewn on the pocket in black sequins. Mommy had made the outfit for him.

Spotting Daddy watching him, Kurt threw himself into waiting arms. Daddy’s smile looked like he had an owie but was trying to be a big boy and not cry.

Kurt hugged him. “It’s okay, Daddy.”

Burt looked surprised but hugged him back. “Yeah, buddy. I think it is.”

 Birthday #4

Ballet girls were nice. When they heard it was his birthday today, they threw him a party. Kurt puffed up with pleasure when presented with cookies, a sparkly wand and a tiara that read ‘Happy Birthday’ in shiny letters. He was not as fond of the kisses they gave, but four was very grown up, so he screwed up his face and allowed it. The teacher even let him wear the special puffy pink tutu over his little black leotard! 

 He saw Mommy and Daddy up in the gallery taking pictures, so he waved.

Kurt hoped today would last forever.

  Birthday #5

“Can I have cupcakes?”

Kurt’s mother looked up from her book. “I don’t think we have any, sweetheart.”

“Can we have some Thursday?  My birthday is the last day of preschool.”

“It is?” she said, looking surprised. “Is it your birthday already?”

He nodded seriously. “Don’t you remember, Mommy? You were there.”

She laughed. “Well, you have me there.  What kind of cupcakes would you like, sweetie? And don’t say cheesecake. Those are two completely different kinds of dessert.”

Kurt’s hopeful expression fell. “Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed. Then his face brightened again. “Chocolate?”

She nodded. “That we can do.”

   Birthday #6

“Daddy!”

Burt sat up just in time to catch the little body that launched at him. “What’s wrong, slugger?”

“It’s my birthday!”

Grinning despite the way his heart was hammering at the abrupt awakening, Burt asked, “Yeah? I like birthdays. Do I get a present?”

“No,” the boy scoffed. “I get presents!”

 Burt squinted at the clock. 3:15am. “Not until morning, you don’t.”

Kurt pouted and tried, “It’s almost morning.”

“Not close enough, kid. C’mere,” Burt pulled him into the warm bed between himself and his wife.

Kurt snuggled down and went right back to sleep.  

Burt was less lucky.

 Birthday #7

Kids had started treating him funny this year. He was too fancy, too girly, holding hands was weird.

Nobody was coming.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Am I too late?”

They jumped as a little black girl with pom-pom hair popped out of nowhere.

“I’m Mercedes,” she greeted. “We just moved here. Mom said you would have invited me if you’d known.”

“I’m Kurt.” He smiled. “Do you like tea parties?”

“Is there cake?”

Mrs. Hummel beamed. “Cake, ice cream, and Kool-Aid.”

Kurt shrugged. “Nobody else came.”

She grabbed his hand like she’d known him forever. “More for us!  Happy Birthday, Kurt.”

 Birthday #8

Kurt took a deep breath, thought for a moment, and carefully blew out the candles. All but the extra one that his parents always put on his cake.

“Aren’t you gonna finish, bud?”

He looked from Daddy over to his mother, home again, but so frail he was sometimes afraid to hug her, worried she might pop like a fragile soap bubble. He offered her the candle. “Here, Mommy. Blow it out. Maybe you’ll get another year to grow on.”

The eyes of the two adults met, then Mommy nodded. The three of them blew out the final candle together.

 Birthday #9

Barely daring to hope, Kurt came down the stairs.  Birthday cakes and presents had been Mommy’s specialty.  Daddy had forgotten his own birthday and had nearly forgotten Christmas.

Kurt gasped when he saw it, waiting, shining and spectacular against the front door.

“A bike!”

Bright green, sissy bars with foil streamers, and a banana seat. Perfect!

Burt smiled. He had scoffed a such a “girly” bike when Kurt spotted it at the toy store. But now, looking at the all-too-rare joy in his son’s eyes and feeling the approving smile his wife would have given, he nodded. It was perfect.

 Birthday #10

Buying gifts was tough when your kid always clammed up on you. A dad had to be observant.

Ten years old. A landmark like that needed something special, but the only thing Kurt seemed into was clothes. He had enough of those for ten kids.  

He’d probably like a Barbie he could change in and out of different outfits, but Burt cringed at the thought.

He did doodle pretty good though. Sure, it was mostly pictures of clothes, but that was a start.

A fancy sketchpad with a case and a hundred different colored pencils. Yeah, that was the ticket.

 Birthday #11

“Dad, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Kurt sighed with exaggerated impatience. He had come home from school to find Dad waiting at the truck, ordering him to get in, then not saying another word. The suspense was killing him.

“Ta-Dahhhh!”

They had pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building. “Columbus Culinary Arts?”

“You like to cook right?  Well, we’re gonna fix your birthday dinner this year with the help of a real chef. Lessons are once a week for the next couple months.”

Gourmet cooking lessons!

“Oh wow. Dad, this is amazing!”

Burt grinned. “Happy Birthday, kid.”

 Birthday #12

Last year’s surprise had gone so well that Burt had decided on a repeat. But when he saw the excitement on Kurt’s face at finding a pair of tickets inside his birthday card turn to disappointment and horror, quickly masked with a fake smile, he knew he’d goofed.

“I know baseball isn’t your thing,” he said, almost pleading. “But you’ve never seen a live game before. It’s a whole different experience. It’s a home game. We can yell and scream, and cheer our team on with thousands of other fans.”

The stiff not-smile never wavered. “Sounds . . . fun.”

 Birthday #13

Dad had bought out one of the partners at the garage this spring and now owned a majority share of the renamed “Hummel Tires & Lube”. Kurt wanted to snicker at that name, but he was proud too.

His birthday this year coincided with Friday Night Dinner. Dad had invited all the mechanics over for a potluck. They’d had Mary’s special fried chicken, Cassius’s homemade cornbread, and Davy’s mac’n’cheese. Now Dad brought out the cake.

Kurt laughed. A sheet-cake with a tow-truck and two little plastic mechanics for decoration.

“You and me kid. Partners.”

The mechanics cheered and everybody dug in.

  Birthday #14

Kurt froze when he saw tickets peeping out of his card. Not again. Noise, sunburn, unhealthy food, tacky uniforms, and Dad trying so hard to make a boring sport seem like fun.

He sighed and pasted on a smile, which quickly transformed into shock.

“Wicked?” he squeaked, staring hard at the little papers as if the printing might change if he dared to look away.

“Embassy Theater is giving regional business owners a discount this year,” Burt said apologetically. “It’s just a traveling production, not real Broadway, but I …”

His apology was cut off by a joyful teenaged hug.

 Birthday #15

“Don’t worry, son, you got this.  Just remember everything I taught you.  You got a whole year to get ready for the practical test.”

“I know.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t get it right the first time. Not everybody does.”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re through.”

“I know that, Dad. I’ll be okay, really.”

At that moment, Kurt’s name was called and he sprang from his hard green plastic chair. His dad’s repeated reassurances were making him jumpy.

Twenty minutes later, a brightly grinning Kurt was waving his freshly minted driver’s permit.

 Birthday #16

Burt patted the giant blue bow the dealership had provided over the hood of the shining black Lincoln Navigator.  

Kurt was gonna flip! He’d passed his DMV test with flying colors and was no doubt showing off his shiny new license to all his friends at school.  

He paused. Did Kurt have any friends to share this accomplishment with? He always seemed so alone.

Maybe that’s why he had decided to spoil his son with a huge birthday gift.

It wasn’t right for such a good kid to be all alone. Maybe having his own ride would help change that.

  Birthday #17

A dozen teens gathered in Kurt’s basement to celebrate the end-of-school, non-disbanding of Glee, and Kurt’s birthday, all in one.

“Not like ten years ago,” Mercedes said to Kurt, as they watched Mike and Brittany dance.

“Ten years?”

“Your seventh? It was just you, me, your mom, and lots of chocolate cake.”

Kurt was astounded. “That was you?”

“You forgot?”

“I remember a little girl who showed up and invited herself to my party.”

“And I remember a little boy who needed a friend as much as I did.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks for coming.”

She squeezed back. “Always.”

 Birthday #18

Kurt stared at his birthday cake, unable to think of anything to wish for.

He was 18-years-old today, a legal adult. He had new family in Carole and Finn, his dad was on the mend, he would be back at McKinley for senior year, he had made his first visit to New York City, and he had a boyfriend! One who had just told Kurt that he loved him for the very first time.

‘I wish for next year to be as good as this,” he thought, taking a deep breath and blowing.

The flames flickered out, all except one.

 Birthday #19

Senior year had been a disaster, and now he had not gotten into NYADA, despite his well-praised audition.

“Blaine wants me to spend another year here,” he whispered. “I just can’t.”

Burt’s callused hand squeezed his neck. “Then don’t. You’re 19 now, a man. You got talents galore, work experience from the garage, enough drive for ten kids, and your mom’s life insurance money to give you a start.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Burt said firmly. “You go on to New York and grab life by the balls.”

Kurt felt his optimism rise. “Help me look for apartments?”

“You got it.”

 Birthday #20

What a difference a year made.

He’d dumped Blaine after being cheated on less than a month after leaving Lima.  He was enrolled at FIT and sharing a shoebox apartment with a fellow design student and a Broadway hopeful, but both were young gay men from small towns, and they had a lot in common.

“Happy Birthday!” Elliott shouted, tossing a handful of glittery sequins at him.

Adam came in playing the birthday song on a kazoo he had gotten from who-knows-where. “Ready for Callbacks? $20 on who gets the first hot guy’s number!”

“I already have yours. I win!”

 Birthday #21

“I have the honor of presenting your first official grown-up drink,” Adam said, smiling lovingly at his grinning boyfriend of nearly a year. He set down a martini glass with a cherry floating on top. “A Manhattan seemed appropriate.”

Kurt beamed and gave him a kiss, then took an experimental sip. “I’ve had alcohol before,” he admitted. “Mostly wine, though.  Mm, this is good!”

“I thought you’d like it. Happy Birthday, my love.  May the future bring every good thing you wish for, and never more heartache than you can handle.”

Kurt could not have asked for a better sentiment.

THE END

#birthday drabbles #Kurt and Burt #Kurt and Mercedes #Kurt and Adam

[dreaming-of-assclass]

AssClass Christmas Fics: Part 1

Group 1 + gift-shopping 🎁

In which Kataoka is tired, Isogai is stressed, Maehara is a wholesome idiot, and Okano and Kimura are the embodiment of chaos.

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Wholesomeness, Slight angst on Isogai’s part

Length: 3,133 words

..................

—————

In hindsight, Megu should’ve known better than to come.

It had seemed innocent at first when Maehara brought the idea up in their groupchat. He wanted all his closest friends to band together and take a trip to the mall for “some good ol’ Christmas gift-shopping.” He said it wasn’t likely they’d get to hang out all together until after winter break. Ok, fair point.

But now, as she sat exhaustedly in the dressing room of some teen store, surrounded by heaps of clothing, she realized she’d made a mistake.

“Hinano, please tell me this is the last one you’re trying on,” Megu begged as she reached for another garment. “We’ve been here for at least an hour and a half.”

“Mmm...I just have to find a matching pair of shorts,” Hinano hummed, at least looking somewhat apologetic. She gave Megu a wink. “After this, we’ll be all done!”

And with that, the smaller girl dashed off, probably in search of one of the store workers.

Megu groaned, giving a pitiful glance at the bag sitting besides her. She’d purchased one outfit, a matching belt, and a set of earrings already...while her friend was still not even close to being done.

“Might as well check what everyone else is doing.” Megu pulled out her phone and texted their groupchat. 

Kataoka: Where are you guys?

She got a reply a moment later.

Maehara: me n isogai r grabbing smth to eat rn

Maehara: but we’re gonna go to some store after

Ah...probably to get some gifts for Isogai’s siblings, Megu remembered fondly. 

“Oh, Megu, she’s still not done yet?” She snapped up to see a somewhat flustered Touka making her way into the dressing room.

The class rep sighed with a tired smile, setting her phone down. She shifted a bit to make room for the other girl. “No, not yet...did you get what you were looking for?”

Touka nodded excitedly, pulling out her gift bag. It was very small and plain-looking, nude with only a red ribbon tied around. She handed it to Megu, a shine in her eyes. “Yes. It’s perfect, exactly what we were going for.”

Megu opened up the bag and reached for the item inside. It was small yet carried weight, and was surrounded by fancy parchment paper. She delicately opened it, careful not to rip anything. “Oh,” she breathed. Touka was certainly right.

It was perfect.

Nestled within the folds of parchment paper was a lovely ornament, shaped like a rose and made of dazzling stained glass. A thousand colors reflected off of it as she gently held it up in the light of the store. 

Touka smiled softly, leaning into her seat. “I thought a rose would be fitting after, y’know, Karasuma-sensei’s love declaration in October,” she laughed. 

“True.” Megu laughed as she carefully set the gift down back into the bag. “No but really, I can’t imagine anything better than this for her. She loves roses and it’s sophisticated, but still...can remind her of our class.”

She patted Touka’s shoulder, her gaze soft. “We made such a good decision entrusting her Christmas gift to be picked out by you.”

Oddly, Touka’s face turned a bright hue of red and she glanced away, clearing her throat. “It’s no problem! I’m happy that I picked something okay.”

Before Megu could question her, their third companion came back in a flurry of more clothing. A pair of pants flew and knocked against Megu’s face, and she wiped it away tiredly. “Hina! You said one more thing!”

Hinano was already turned towards the changing stall, struggling to carry her massive load. “I know, I know, I’m sorry! But they have a sale!”

“Still-!”

“Wait, really?” Touka shot up, her eyes bright. “I gotta go look for some stuff too!” Within seconds, she was dashing towards the racks of clothing in the store, right into the massive crowds of people already scavenging for good sales.

Oh boy. Megu mentally prepared herself for a moment before following her. Might as well take advantage of the sales too, she thought wryly. She had been looking for a new pair of boots lately...

.................

__________

“Yo, how about this one?” Hiroto asked, wriggling his eyebrows and holding up a video game-themed hoody jacket. It was child-sized and looked incredibly tiny against his large frame.

Yuuma looked in his direction, still combing through a rack of items himself. “Cute.” He grinned.

He reached over and touched the material thoughtfully. “Quality seems pretty good too. It’ll last him a while.”

“Yeah!” Hiroto agreed. “It’s super cozy, and will help him a lot in winter.”

“Okay, we can put this in the cart.”

Hiroto obliged and the two boys moved on from the clothing area. “Nothing else?” He questioned, giving a passing glance to aisles around them.

Yuuma hummed. “Well, we got a pajama set for both of them...a dress...two pairs of shoes, and now this hoodie. I’d like to get more but it’s Christmas, right? They’d probably like some new toys, not a ton of clothes.” He laughed.

“Ah, true.” Hiroto pushed the cart towards the toy section, following his best friend’s steady pace. This part of the store was incredibly hectic, and the sound of children’s cries and laughs filled it endlessly. Stressed parents flew around, trying to find the perfect toys. Boxes were everywhere, and it was very much a mess.

He barely caught Yuuma’s wince. As someone who also worked in a service industry, around Christmas time no less, Yuuma was probably sympathizing with the store clerks who’d be tasked to clean up.

They reached a random aisle that ended up holding all the lego sets. “I should get a couple of these,” Yuuma mused, looking around. “They love Legos, especially the bigger sets.”

“Uh huh...” Hiroto grasped his chin in thought, leaning his forearms onto the cart handle. “What about this?” He reached over and grabbed the box set. 

Yuuma leaned over to see it. “A firetruck and station,” he read. “589 pieces.” He smiled, looking up at Hiroto. “Perfect. Let’s grab it.”

“Awesome.” Hiroto was glad he was some kind of help. He knew this time of year was always incredibly stressful for his best friend, who not only had to study but work at the same time. And Yuuma would always buy his family some type of presents, so there was that added financial stress...

Not to mention...

Yuuma would never outright say it, but Hiroto knew that his father was on his mind even more than usual during the Holiday season, a time that places so much emphasis on family. 

The thought made his chest tighten. Hiroto always swore to himself that he’d help Yuuma and his family to the best of his ability, and it went tenfold during this goddamn month. 

The two looked some more before coming up with a few more toys. There was a science kit for his younger brother, and some new race cars. And a babydoll and a slime-making box for his little sister. The two kids would share the Lego set, and their older brother would help them build it.

“Now we just need to swing by over there,” Yuuma told him, gesturing to the side of the store where mainly women’s products were. Things like fancy soap, candles, etc. 

It was definitely a gift for his mom.

“Sure.” They made their way over, Hiroto still pushing the cart. “Hey, Isogai...” The name slipped uncomfortably from his tongue, leaving a taste of unfamiliarity. 

“Yeah?” Yuuma asked, looking through some house decorations. Hiroto took a short breath.

“Your family will love and appreciate whatever you get for them. It’s always the thought that counts, and that’s like...times ten with you. You’re a really good son and big brother, and that alone means so much to them probably.”

There was a pause.

“So please don’t stress yourself out, looking “for the perfect gift,” Hiroto added quickly. “They love you so much...”

Well, so much for nice encouragement. He just blurted out everything.

The sound of gentle laughter rang out, and he glanced up to see Yuuma looking back at him. His best friend’s eyes crinkled in a charming way as he spoke.

“Thanks, Hiroto...I couldn’t have gone through all this without you.” He ran a hand through his mop of dark hair. “And I don’t just mean this past month...thanks for being my best friend.”

He continued. “It’s when you say stuff like that...that brings me back down to Earth,” Yuuma admitted. “And I can actually...relax, even for just a little bit.”

Oh...

Hiroto coughed lightly, before beaming at him. “Well, duh~what are best friends for?” He winked. “I’ve always got your back.”

“Same here,” Yuuma replied, his gaze soft. 

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out, brows furrowing slightly. “Ah, Yada texted.”

Yada: help megu almost fought some girl over a pair of tights on sale

Maehara: LMFAOOOOOO well did she win?

Yada: ya of course

Kataoka: - _ - she deserved it

Isogai: Haha

Kataoka: also sorry to interrupt but

Kataoka: where the hell are okano and kimura????

.................

_________

“I can’t believe you actually had a good idea for once,” Okano muttered, the blue light from the game reflected in her fierce gaze. “Coming to the mall arcade instead of doing some boring shopping.”

“Yeah, well, at least one of us used our brain cell today,” Kimura shot back, his thumbs moving rapidly. “If it was up to you, we’d still be circling around the penny fountain.”

Okano snorted. “Shut up.” She picked up the pace on the controllers, feeling a familiar drive to win piling up inside of her. 

Ten seconds later, “You lose!” was flashing at her on the screen while Kimura jumped up, throwing his arms up in victory. “Aw, hell yeah!”

“Fuck!” Okano hissed. “One more time!” She demanded, turning towards him.

Kimura smirked, calming down. “No thanks, I’m getting bored of this one now,” he replied nonchalantly.

Okano rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She looked around at the arcade interior, her gaze scanning around for anything that seemed interesting. 

“Oh! I love that game!” She exclaimed, gesturing to an iceball set up. “Come on!”

“Sure!” Kimura followed her towards the machine, seeing nothing else to do. “I bet I’ll win~” He sang smugly.

“You wish,” Okano scoffed, choosing the one on the left while he moved to the right. She inserted the proper number of tokens before smiling satisfied at the way the machine lit up. “I’m a beast at this game. Maehara can tell you himself how I literally destroyed everyone at this last summer.”

Kimura did the same and they both waited for the number of balls to roll down towards them. “Huh. We’ll see about that.”

“Just shut up and play already.” She had already thrown her first ball, smirking at how it fell into an 100 point slot. “Ha!”

“Lucky shot,” Kimura mumbled, tossing his first one. It fell into the Zero slot, much to his disappointment. “Shit...”

Thankfully, Okano didn’t pay attention. She was much too preoccupied with tossing her own balls, which all landed in the 100 or 250 slots. 

Kimura picked up the pace and continued his game. He groaned as all of them fell into the 10 point slots. The number of tickets coming out on his end was nothing compared to Okano’s long chain. Well...maybe my pitching is shit after all, like Sugino said. I should fix this...

“Done!” Okano shouted, throwing her last ball that fell into the 100 slot. She grinned at her list of tickets before looking over at him. “What’d I tell you, huh?” 

Kimura rolled his eyes, grabbing his final ball. Gritting his teeth, he tossed it with a carefull turn of his wrist. He watched in anticipation as the ball glided over all the slots...before falling right into the 5000 slot.

“Oh shit!”

“Woah!” Okano yelled, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, Kimura! You got the highest number!”

“I did!” He shouted back, somewhat in a daze. 

“That’s amazing!”

For a moment, it was like they weren’t rivals. Just a moment though.

Okano punched his shoulder, her lips curved. “Beginner’s luck,” she teased, but the fire never left her eyes.

Kimura laughed before his gaze fell back on his tickets. “Ah...it’s taking a while, isn’t it?”

Okano looked at it with a frown, pursing her lips. “It shouldn’t be.”

“Let’s give it another minute,” he suggested.

Five minutes later, Kimura felt like screaming. “My major accomplishment!” He sighed dramatically. “And no one was around to see it but you!”

Okano rolled her eyes, hopping off the floor where they’d been crouching. “Get up. Let’s go find a staff member.”

“Yeah...” Kimura stood up, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Uh hello? What are you staring at?” He questioned.

No answer, as Okano looked thoughtfully at the game machine. “Earth to Okano~” He sang, waving a hand in her face.

Then she did it.

Something he hadn’t expected, but really it shouldn’t have even surprised him.

Okano swung her leg out before letting it collide against the machine’s ticket base. A booming thud rang out.

And almost immediately, tickets began streaming out. 

Kimura’s jaw dropped.

“There, it’s all fixed,” Okano smiled with a shrug.

“Are you crazy?” The words escaped his mouth instantly. “You pulled out some assassin moves just to fix a ticket machine?!”

“Well yeah~You can get your tickets now!”

“How did you even know that would work?! And doesn’t your foot hurt like hell?”

Okano laughed. “Honestly, I had no idea if it would work. But it did!” She glanced at her foot. “And it doesn’t hurt. That part of the machine is pretty hollow, and my foot has hit harder things so...”

Kimura frowned at her.

“I promise it’s fine!” Okano held her hands up. “Woah...look at your tickets! I think you can get a stuffed animal with this number!”

“Yeah maybe-” Kimura was cut off by a stern voice barking at them.

“Hey! You kids!”

They both jolted up as one of the mall security guards stormed towards them, followed by as pissed-off arcade worker, who pointed at them. “Those kids broke the machine to steal extra tickets!”

Kimura felt his mouth go dry. Still he tried to shout, “Wait no! It’s a misunderstanding, I got 5000! But it got stuck-”

And then he was cut off by Okano yanking his arm away with a strength he could only imagine having. The next few seconds felt like a blur and before he knew it, the two of them were running in the lobby of the mall.

“Come on, you idiot! You’re the fastest runner in the class, act like it!” Okano yelled, purposely agitating him. Still, Kimura fell for it and his speed increased immensely in just a second. Now, Okano was trying to catch up to him. 

Kimura dashed through the numbers of people walking by, being mindful to dodge anyone, especially the elderly or some children... He shouted out a “Sorry!” and an “Excuse me!” as he moved.

It sounded odd but he could hear Okano’s footsteps behind him, even amongst the clusters of normal civilians. Probably from all the times they trained together. Her steps were light and bouncy, barely touching the floor as she kept a stable balance. He always thought to himself how Okano moved like she could walk on air.

He made a sharp turn around a mall corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with three girls just trying to walk by. “Ah, I’m so sorry!”

“What the hell- wait...Kimura?” One of the girls breathed.

Kimura’s head snapped up at the familiar tone and he realized in horror who the girls were. “Kataoka! Yada! Kurahashi!” He laughed sheepishly. “How’s your shopping going?”

“Fine~!” Kurahashi chirped, somehow balancing five huge bags on one of her arms alone.

Kimura smiled at her. “That’s good...” He laughed nervously again. “Well, I should continue on my way-”

Kataoka leveled him a sharp glare, leaning in closer. “What do you think you’re doing, running around the mall like a maniac? And where’s Hinata?!”

“Uhm...”

“There you are!” All four of them jolted, looking up to see the security guard. Standing right beside him was a very annoyed-looking Okano, crossing her arms. Ah, so she got caught...

“I’m gonna need you to come to our office,” the guard spoke sternly, looking straight at Kimura. 

He sighed, stepping forward to comply before passing a pleading glance to the girls. Kurahashi frowned, Yada sighed, and Kataoka shut her eyes irritably. Then she spoke. “Officer...we’re friends with them, so we’ll come along too, if that’s okay.”

“Alright then.”

The girls followed them warily and Kataoka leaned in to whisper to Yada. “I hope your negotiating skills will come in handy now...”

..............

________

“Oh man,” Maehara wheezed, clutching his stomach. “Banned from the mall for a month?!” He burst out laughing again.

“Yeah...” Kimura’s head was dropped into his arms, which rested on the table of the cafe they were at.

“I’m glad you find this act of immaturity so funny,” Kataoka commented dryly, taking another sip of her latte. The liquid scorched her throat a bit, but she needed the caffeine at that moment. 

“Actually, I find it hilarious,” Maehara corrected. “Seriously, how did all that even happen? Why’d you run away?”

“I’d like to know too,” Isogai chimed in tiredly.

“Uh, haven’t you heard of fleeing from the scene of a crime?” Okano snapped, but it lacked its usual bite as she reached over for her hot chocolate.

“That only works if you can’t get caught,” Yada pointed out with a giggle, adjusting her scarf.

“Aw man,” Maehara chuckled, toning it down at the sight of Okano’s pout. “It’s okay guys. We’ll laugh about this in the future.”

“You’re laughing about it now,” Kataoka muttered sourly.

Maehara ignored her. “One day, we’ll look back on this as a super fond memory,” he said confidently, throwing an arm around Kimura.

“Not to mention, it was pretty cool how you used your kick, Hina!” Kurahashi chimed in, hugging her.

“Yeah, pretty badass,” Isogai agreed, flashing her a smile.

Okano’s lips curved up. “Thanks, guys...”

“I guess the whole thing was pretty ridiculous,” Kimura said. “Sorry for stressing you out, Kataoka...”

She waved him off but her gaze softened. “Just don’t let this happen ever again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Maehara clasped his heads behind his head. “Ah, by the way, I’m gonna have to leave sooner than I thought.”

Yada squinted at him. “...Why?”

“Well, there’s this Christmas event at another store where they need a guy in a Santa costume...and you know...the elves are all pretty girls, so I gotta help them out-”

All his friends let out a collective groan. 

#assclass #ansatsu kyoushitsu #assassination classsroom #writing #group 1 #hinata okano #megu kataoka #yuuma isogai #justice kimura #hiroto maehara #touka yada #hinano kurahashi #is there some underlining subtext between maeiso #you bet your ass there is in my fic #sdhjksj okano and kimura bring all the chaos #also sorry for the lack of kurahashi..... #i just could not write her for some reason

[like-the-wings-of-butterflies]

Smitten (John Deacon x Taylor! Reader)

Summary: Your brother Roger invites you to meet his bandmates and it seems the bassist has caught your eye

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,433

Requested By: @not-john-watsons-blog - Hey love! If you have time, could I request something? Like maybe something where the reader is Roger's sister (but like very different personality, a lot quieter and more relaxed lol) and he brings her into the studio and everyone thinks she's gonna be another Roger but then she's very different and Deaky kinda starts to get a crush on her and it's cute fluffiness from there. Does that make sense? Lol. Also if you don't have time, no worries! Thanks for your time :)

A/N: This is literally months overdue but thank you so much being my first ever requested fic! My biggest apologies for taking so incredibly long but I promised you I’d write it so I hope this is something similar to what you had in mind ♡

“What if they don’t like me Rog?”

“Oh shut up would you? They’re going to love you.” Roger promised somewhat irritatedly as he kept his eyes on the oncoming traffic; growing tired of your repetitive ‘what if’ scenarios.

The nervous anticipation grew heavier in your stomach as you rolled into the studio’s parking lot. These were up-and-coming musicians you were about to meet; not only that, but your brother’s up-and-coming best friend musicians. Although you knew Roger was hardly one to waste his time on people who were unkind or brash, in addition to his constant reassurance, part of you still feared his bandmates wouldn’t like you.

For Roger’s sake, you wanted to make a good impression. God did you want to make a good impression.

“I promise it’s going to be fine.” Roger vowed sincerely, giving you a final reassuring hug before swinging open the door to the band’s assigned room.

- - - - - - - - - -

Roger didn’t speak of you often but when he did, his face always lit up in sincere adoration of his younger sibling. Much like Brian and Freddie, John knew very little about you except for the fact that you were studying at the University of West London and Roger had two years on you, making you the same age as him.

As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise and although he felt bad for making assumptions, John realised he already had a preconceived opinion of you. He expected you to be exactly like Roger; loud and extroverted. It wasn’t that he disliked Roger - he felt quite the opposite actually - but one Roger was simply enough. If you were anything like he expected you to be, the pair of you would only rile each other up, two marginally chaotic and excitable siblings making little room for productivity.

Your awkward wave and quiet: “It’s lovely to meet you all.” following Roger’s introduction was all it took for John to retract his assumptive statements. You hid somewhat behind Roger before Freddie bounded over, gushing over you and doing his best to make you feel welcome. John felt slightly more at ease when he discovered Brian felt similarly to what he did, but Freddie was a bit more open-minded and convinced them to at least give you a chance. Now he was glad he did.

John always thought that love at first sight was for suckers, at least - he used to. You were absolutely gorgeous. The good looks ran in the family it seemed, you donning the same bright smile that got Roger any girl he wanted.

He didn’t realise he was starting until you quietly coughed and gingerly offered your hand to him, which he took quickly to hide his embarrassment.

“John,” He spoke through a comfortable smile. “John Deacon.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Not wanting your presence to interrupt the group, you spent the morning sitting quietly in the back of the mixing room, enjoying the process. You quietly offered your thoughts and advice from time to time which the boys seemed to find helpful and you were elated when they showed you a few of the completed songs for the upcoming album.

Watching you interact with others allowed Brian, Freddie and John to see how you couldn’t be more unlike your brother. You shared the same unique flare, but for the most part, your personalities were largely different. While he was loud and extroverted, you were calmer and far more down to earth. You contrasted Roger’s personality almost entirely, yet while together you complimented each other, sharing deep bond that didn’t go unnoticed.

- - - - - - - - - - -

One way or another, when you returned to the studio after a short lunch break, you found the recording booth completely empty, save for John behind the mixing deck. He had his back turned to you, busily plucking the strings of his bass over a halfway finished recording of a song you vaguely remember Roger referring to as: ‘Stone Cold Crazy’.

As the chorus came around, he began humming the lyrics to himself and bopping his head to the beat. John was yet to notice your presence, seemingly too engrossed in the music to take any notice. When he began dancing on the spot, you giggled quietly to yourself as you watched him, quickly snapping a hand over your mouth as your realised your mistake.

His head turned to face you quickly, he smiled shyly as his eyes met yours before turning back to pause the playback in a desperate attempt to hide the blush that was creeping up his cheeks.

“Sorry (Y/N), I didn’t even realise you came in.” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of head.

‘How embarrassing’ He cursed silently to himself.

“No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have crept up on you.” You apologised profusely, before taking a seat on one of the sofas and sifting through the various magazines on a side table, allowing him to practice in peace. As much as you would’ve loved to speak to him a bit more, you were at the studio as a guest after all, the least you could do was actually let him do his job.

And although you didn’t necessarily mean to watch him over the edge of the magazine for the next ten or so minutes, you found you couldn’t help doing so anyway. There was something about him that brought on the all-too-familiar feeling of butterflies to your stomach, making you feel like a giddy teenager when he said your name.

Once he’d played the final note on the third repeat of the song, you noticed how stagnant his movements were since you made your presence known. Instead he stood still, looking down at his bass with his back turned to you.

“I didn’t stop you from dancing did I?” You squeaked apologetically.

“No not at all,” He lied, lifting the strap over his head and placing the instrument on a nearby stand, “Just focusing on not messing up in front of you.” He laughed, taking a seat across from you and doing his best to not embarrass himself.

“I hope not, it was cute.” You mused, shocking yourself with the random spurt of confidence in your being and coming to terms with the fact that you actually said that, quickly becoming a bright shade of red.

Stunned, his lips parted lightly and his eyebrows raised in surprise, the hue of his cheeks tinting to match yours as he ran a hand over his face. He was a man of few words as is, preferring to catalyse his feelings into his music, but you; you well and truly took his breath away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The remainder of the day passed by swiftly, largely spent sharing spare moments talking with John, and before you knew it the sun had begun to set on the London skyline and your day at the studio had come to an end.

“Come back soon okay?” Freddie beamed mid-hug while Brian - who you’d already said goodbye to - stood in the doorway talking with Roger about god knows what. After promising Freddie you’d come back as soon as Roger allowed it, you turned to John.

“It was nice meeting you John, I hope to see you around.” You smiled earnestly.

“You too (Y/N).” He responded before pulling you into an embrace of his own. When you pulled away, his hands fumbled around in his pockets for a moment before pulling out a pen and a small square of paper, quickly scribbling down a series of numbers before folding it and handing it to you.

“I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I didn’t give you my number now would I?” He flirted adventurously, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before Roger turned around.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Can I come back tomorrow?”

Roger laughed to himself, “I take it you enjoyed their company then?”

“Thoroughly.” You nodded with a childish grin plastered on your face, the skin on your cheek tingling as you fiddled with the folded paper held tightly in your grasp.

“As much as I give you my blessing, you surprised me back there,” Roger interrupted as he skipped down the steps of the studio entrance, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips as he spun the car keys around his finger.

You looked at him with a furrowed brow, silently encouraging him to finish his thought as you slipped into the leather-clad passenger seat. His smile only brightened as he gestured to the concealment in your palm, hidden away from his knowing eyes, “I always thought Brian was more your type.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tags: @kelleypenac @chloblo6 @crazyweirdocalledfriday

(Don’t hesitate to let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

#john deacon x reader #brian may x reader #roger taylor x reader #freddie mercury x reader #queen x reader #bohemian rhapsody x reader #borhap x reader #joe mazzello x reader #gwylim lee x reader #ben hardy x reader #john deacon #brian may #roger taylor #freddie mercury #queen #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #fanfic #fluff

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

In Corners

Calum never though he’d be a dad like this. But when it comes to his daughter, he’s always in her corner. Always and forever. 

What happens when you put together H’s love for angst+ Single!Dad Calum+ Coming Out?

This. This is the product. 

CW: Mentions of Death and health issues. Coming out. Some slight mentions of homophobia. Anxiety. 

Enjoy my masterlist

Feel free to support me on Kofi.

****No one has my permission to post this fic, including translations. Copyright be-ready-when-i-say-go, 2020.******

_________________________________

Calum shouldn’t have sat down. That is his mistake. He figures he wouldn’t fall asleep. Not this fast, of course. That will always be false hope. That will always be him giving himself too much credit. If he sat down too long without anything to do, especially in the comfy single seater, it would be game over for him. He has an hour before he has to pick up Ariyana from Elizabeth’s house. He dropped her off earlier in the afternoon and said he’d be back to get her before dinner time. 

And after running errands, first to get groceries, then take the dogs to the vet, and be home for the cable company, all Calum really wants is a nap. Just a quick one. That’s all it’ll be. Half an hour and then he can head out to get her. The both of them can decide what to get for dinner, if they’re going to cook or if they’ll give in and order a veggie pizza. There’s nothing like just sitting with a couple boxes of pizza and piling plates with maybe a slice too many and dancing from the counter to the kitchen table to keep any slice from sliding off. 

He feels his head fall forward on his neck and he snaps up. It takes him a moment, realizing he’s slumped down in the living room. Glancing up at the clock, he’s half an hour late. “Shit,” he exclaims, bolting up from the seat, grabbing his keys and wallet. The door is a slamming thud behind him and his keys jingle as he works to get the right one in his fingers.  

Inside the car, he pulls up Ari’s number and sets the phone into the hook on the air vent so he can drive and have both hands free. It rings and rings. Just as the back tires hit asphalt, she picks up. “Fell asleep again didn’t you, Dad?”

“I keep telling you that seat has some sort of magic in it. I’m on my way.”

She laughs. In the background, Calum can hear Elizabeth’s mother, her voice soft and sweet. “He’s on his way. Thanks, Mrs. Banks,” Ariyana says. “Want me to call in the veggie pizza?”

“Please. I’m sorry, baby girl. Should’ve set an alarm on my phone.”

“It’s alright, Dad. I lost track of time too. I’ll call it in.”

“Love you. Thanks.”

“Of course. Love you too.” 

It still blows Calum’s mind that for the last fourteen years it’s been just Ariyana and him, and somehow he’s managed to do the whole Dad thing well. Ariyana isn’t his kid, an apparent fact when she stands next to him at the grocery stores when they go shopping together or when they go out to the movies, on the rare occasions that Ariyana doesn’t think Calum’s lame. Her much darker than his own, almost like her skin swallowed up the night sky. 

But he wouldn’t trade it in for the world. Even though it meant he lost one of his best friends along the way, complications post-birth seemed to just linger and linger on until they unfortunately claimed Ariyana’s mother, Jazmyne. But both her and Calum knew things were going south fast. They both knew that one day would be her last and when Jazymyne told Calum that no matter what happened to her, she wanted him to take care of her baby, he agreed without hesitation. Ari was close to a year old when her mother died, leaving Calum to the wilds of parenthood alone. 

He was there for everything before that. When Ariyana first kicked in the womb. When the doctors let visitors in, he was the first to hold her. He watched her crawl for the first time, attempting to keep up with Duke who was shockingly good with a baby. Maybe it was because they were kindred spirits. All he did was sleep and eat all day and Ariyana as a baby did the same. He has so many pictures of Ari and Duke at his place on the couch, fast asleep, when Jazmyne had doctor’s appointments or whenever she was just too physically tired to do much of anything. Calum always kept his doors opened. He loved, and still loves, Ariyana, so there was never a problem when he got to watch her for a couple hours. 

Ariyana had a game she liked to play, especially when she was being put down for a nap, where when she finally could support her upper half, she would hide her face in Calum’s chest and then push up. He would kiss her forehead or cheek and she’d giggle before hiding her face again. It would go for ten minutes, a cycle of their version of peekaboo and kisses until sleep finally overtook her right there on his chest and Calum would be left, hearing the echo of her sweet giggle, the way only a baby can laugh, with one hand on her back, keeping her secure to his body.

Calum feels the tears filling his lower lashes and tries not to think too much about how much Ariyana has grown up since then. How at almost 25, he became a dad to the sweetest kid in the world. And it might not have been under circumstances that he would’ve liked, or ones that he would’ve expected, but he couldn’t deny the blessing Ariyana was in his life. So how much complaining could Calum really do?

Turning the corner onto the block, Calum can see Ariyana and Elizabeth standing on the front porch, huddled together. And almost, as the sounds of his tires rolling over of the street, are fire, they jump apart. Elizabeth falls into the swing and starts rocking as if she were doing it the entire time. Calum knows. He suspected it long before when suddenly Ari talked about Elizabeth all the time. They stayed after school a lot, on homework as the excuse. But Calum never pushed it. 

Instead, Calum parks. He opens his door just as the front door opens and Elizabeth’s mom steps out waving. “Thank you again, Jodie,” Calum calls out as he stands behind the opened driver side door. 

“Anytime. You know Ariyana’s welcome over literally whenever. Maybe next week, girls, we can do that candle thing I was showing you guys.”

“Mom,” Elizabeth groans. 

“What? It looks fun,” Jodie defends. It’s easy to see the relation between the two of them. Elizabeth getting her mother’s dark and wild curls. “You guys said you wanted something to do the next time you hung out? I figured what’s to lose by learning how to make candles?”

“Yeah, but they’re in those elementary school milk cartons.”

Jodie shakes her head. Her gaze lands on Calum and they both share a knowing look before Jodie turns back to Elizabeth, hands up and palms out. “Well, think about it then. Maybe we can find some other craft. Doesn’t have to be candles.”

Both girls are glancing at each other, communicating something and Calum has a good idea what it is. But with a small wave and smile, Ariyana steps down from the porch and over to the passenger side of Calum’s SUV. They both climb inside, doors closing at the same time. “Pizza should be done by the time we get there,” Ari says, sliding the seatbelt across her. 

“Cool. Tomorrow, I’ll cook.”

“You mean, tomorrow you’ll attempt to cook but I’ll have a take out place on standby.”

“My cooking’s gotten better over the years.”

“I’ll give you that,” she laughs. Then falls silent, mostly car rides are full of her talking about her day, asking questions, making terrible puns about the street names. But now, she fiddles with her phone, staring out of the window as the world passes by them. And she questions for a brief moment if they are passing the world by. Because it feels like it, as she sits next to her dad. 

Ariyana knows about her mother dying, she knows about Calum adopting her because of her mother’s wishes. She’s grateful for it. She can’t imagine what her life would be like if it weren’t for Calum, if she wound up with someone else, if she wound up with her grandmother, who lived back in the South. Calum never kept her family out of her life, but it’s always a question that plagues her. What would her life be like if things had been different? What would she be like if her grandmother took her in? Would her grandmother dress her up every Sunday like she did to her mother? Would she be eating oatmeal in the mornings with bacon on the side and just on the other side of the kitchen table a Bible would sit? 

She’s not sure why her mother didn’t leave her to her grandmother. Though she’s asked Calum several times, he never really answers it. Her grandmother never treated her badly. When she spent the summers at her house, running through the neighborhood with the other kids, and they scrambled to be inside doors or on porch steps as the streetlights came on, her grandmother would always be waiting, hands on her hips, with a shake of her head. ‘Cutting it close, like you gunnin for trouble,’ her grandmother would always say. 

But on the table would be her plate for dinner. Her aunts and uncle would always hook her up with the latest sneakers. Ariyana learned how to walk not to put creases in her shoes. She spent many nights sitting in her mother’s childhood room, cleaning sneakers with toothbrushes. She stared up at peeling wallpaper, feeling the soft pressure of reassuring hands on her shoulders. No one else would be in the room with her. 

And Calum never sheltered her from any of that. He took really good care of her and she never felt like she couldn’t tell him anything. She never felt like there was a disconnect. Until now. Because in her soul, deep in her gut, she knows that she wouldn’t have to worry about this with her mother. Her mother would just get her. There was nothing else in the world besides a mother’s love. Or maybe Ariyana just yearned for her mother right now that it made it seem like that. Maybe all she wants right now is that soothing touch, like when Grandma’s worn leathery palms would cup her cheeks and every ache was soothed. Every worry was squashed in just one touch. 

“I’ll be right back. Don’t drive away now,” Calum teases, sliding out of the truck. 

Ariyana finally notices that they’re pulled up right in front of the doors of the pizza shop. She nods, glancing over to Calum. Does he know? Is he going to flip? She hopes he wouldn’t. Ariyana hopes that the track record of telling Calum major news proves accurate for future reactions. Like shockingly, he didn’t flip a lid when she was near failing trig. Mostly because she was too busy passing notes to Elizabeth. But she covered that up by saying the teacher just taught it in a confusing manner and Calum asked her if she wanted a tutor. That was all. He encouraged her that she could always try the subject again in the summer or maybe again once school started, but he didn’t give her a spill about how failing classes would never get her into college, or never help her make a living in the world. 

But almost failing trig and having to tell him this, the truth, admitting that even she’s not sure about the label--that could never compare. 

The car door opens and Calum slides the pizza onto the floor to keep it safe. Just as he gets into the driver seat, Ariyana speaks. “Can we go visit Mom? Like after dinner or whenever it really works?”

Calum nods. “We can go right now if you want. I have blankets in the back. Make it a picnic.”

“Those are the dogs blankets but sure, they’ll suffice.”

“Hey, now, the dogs don’t complain about those nice soft blankets.” He says it on the shot to make her laugh. He can tell something in weighing on her mind. That’s not his Ariyana but sometimes things are just hard to express verbally. He gets that. 

“They lack the ability too. So…” she laughs, watching as Calum makes a dramatic show of rolling his eyes and sighing. 

The smell of cheese and marinara sauce fills the car. There’s not even the radio playing. Calum lets her have control most of the time. According to her, all he ever plays are the throwback jams. Though occasionally in her shuffle she slips in one of the songs he’s mentioned or played before. She only puts the ‘good ones’ on though, her exact phrasing when Calum brought it up once. 

Upon arriving at the cemetery, Calum pauses, watching Ariyana slip out of the car. She skirts around to the trunk, pulling out the blankets. “Trunk water?” she asks, referring the case of water Calum keeps in the trunk. Mostly for emergencies and because he’s had a case always on hand. 

“I got it,” Calum returns as he grabs the pizza. He wants to ask if everything is okay. If there’s anything he needs to do, or anything she wants him to do, but he’s not sure if the question warrants verbalization. Something is not okay. Something is going on. Though he doesn’t want to push her at the same time. 

Walking over the grass, Calum doesn’t even take note of the headstones that lead their way. Most of the time he does. Most of the time he hates coming here. He never really thought he would’ve griefed a major loss in his twenties. He didn’t think life would be that cruel to him. Yet it had. Yet, he buried her six feet deep, let the oak be a barrier between her flesh and whatever creatures lived in the dirt. But this whole row, the plot they had to pick out together while Ariyana was still much too young, still a babbling baby on one of their hips. Calum can’t remember anymore the specifics. 

This whole trek though shows him he’s not alone. Many others have had those same feelings. Many others have cried a flood of tears before him and he can only hope those that cry for him don’t feel too burdened. He hopes that they know his life began and had to end too. It’s at the plot as Ariyana starts to unfold the blanket that Calum wonders if she wants to go to stay with her grandmother. Before she spent a lot of summers there because Calum had to go for a tour, but even during her Christmas breaks, she asked to go more often. Because he has to leave during the school year too sometimes, Ariyana stays with Luke’s wife and their kids. It works out, never find the fact that they have to make it work. 

“Do you want to live with your grandmother, Ari?”

Ariyana looks over to Calum, her brows pulled in together in confusion. “Did you nap so hard, Dad, that you lost your marbles? I love Grandma Gigi. But no, I don’t want to live with her.”

“I just--you’ve been quiet. Like something’s wrong. And I didn’t--I didn’t want you thinking that you couldn’t talk to me about whatever it is that’s going on. I know it’s not easy when I have to travel so many months at a time. But like, if you wanted something more stable, I don’t fault you. I wouldn’t be mad.”

Their blankets are straightened out and Ariyana places her arms under the boxes. “It’s crazy, yeah. But let’s be real. I have like four rooms at this point, one at every uncle’s house. Birthdays are like, insane when we all get together to have a party. And I like it, just us. Besides you don’t flip like Grandma Gigi about curfew. Though her cooking is better.” She sees Calum’s faux offense and quickly adds on, “But I do love you. You taught me how to ride a bike. You’re there to help me study when I can’t decode Shakespeare. You paid for me to learn how to fail at tap dancing.”

“You were getting better, sweetheart.”

“I was awful, Dad. And you taught me how to play football and helped me make junior varsity. There’s no one else that could’ve done all that.”

“You were an easy baby. A difficult teen. But an easy baby.”

“I won’t take offense at you calling me difficult. For now. It might come back up in other later arguments.”

Calum laughs, nodding his head towards the ground. “Believe me, I expect it.”

They finally sit, the pizza still warm as they take their first bites. Ariyana really asked to come out here because maybe she could tell Calum without actually having to say it. Maybe her mother would give her strength even beyond the grave. It would be like, coming out to both the people she cared about the most, at the same time. She wouldn’t have to do this over, and over, and over. Except her uncles of course. 

Grandma Gigi is going to be a whole other battle. That will have to be a battle she’ll have to fight when it comes up. Right now, she has to tell Calum. With nothing but crust in her fingers, she looks over to Calum. “Dad,” she starts. She’s never called him anything other than that, though she knows he’s not her biological father. She’s never known him as anything other than that. She’s never known him as anyone that would freak, or stop loving her, or shun her for anything. 

“What’s up, baby girl?” If Ariyana doesn’t want to move in with her grandmother, Calum’s at a loss. He just wants her to be happy. And healthy, of course, too. But seeing her torn up like this makes his gut constrict. He’s only been able to stomach one slice thus far. 

“Have you ever known you were different? Not like you suspected or you were guessing. But you just knew.”

It clicks. Like the switch of a light being turned on, Calum gets it. He exhales, reaching for another slice of pizza. “Well,” he starts, holding the slice on his fingers as he chews over the right words. He stares down at Jazmyne’s headstone. What do I tell her? You’d be so much better at this. He doesn’t want to start out with the ‘whole everyone’s different’ thing. It feels contrived, like he’s trying to weigh his own struggles against hers. All he wants to do, at a moment like this, is let her know he’s listening. He’s picking up the clues. “There’s nothing wrong with different, ya know? Different is good.”

“You don’t think different is like, wrong? Like, there’s a ‘normal’ that everyone’s used too. And different is scary. But is it wrong, ya know?”

There’s no use in trying to beat around the bush anymore. Calum swallows down his bite of pizza resting it on the cardboard box on the side where none of the other slices rest. He looks over at her, as she picks at the dog fur coating her black jeans. “Who you love or find attractive isn’t wrong. It may be different from what others expect of you or what others deem is right. I don’t care who you love. I love different. I accept different. I respect different and that means I love you; I accept you. And it also means I respect you too.”

Almost like a popped balloon Ariyana sighs. All the tension from her shoulders drop. “Was it that obvious?”

“I know when someone’s smitten when I see it.”

There’s a moment, where they both sit, watching the setting sun. Ari’s glad that it went well. That she doesn’t have to hide or fear anything. “You didn’t even let me say it, though,” she points out. “Like, I had this whole speech prepared and everything!”

Calum laughs. “Okay, let’s redo.”

“No, it’s too late now,” she huffs, holding her arms across her chest. Her laughter is bubbling in her chest and escapes her in tufts. “But, in all honesty, thanks. For understanding. I was kinda scared.”

Calum nods. “I understand. But I don’t want you to be afraid of telling me things. I’m always in your corner, Ariyana. Always and forever.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

With empty boxes collected and the blankets folded back up, Ariyana looks down at her mother’s gravestone. “I hope you understand, Mom. Love you.” The car ride is DJ’ed, like usual, Ariyana’s playlist and things are easy again. 

It’s about a week later as Ariyana gathers her books from the dining room table for school, when she notices a tiny pride flag pinned to the front pouch of her backpack. She didn’t buy that. Not even in her venture to the mall with Elizabeth last Saturday and they stopped at a small kiosk that was selling a bunch of pins. Elizabeth bought one, if she remembered correctly. But not her. 

“Ready to go, Ari?”

“Dad, did I buy that pin?” she asks, pointing to her brown canvas bag. 

“If it’s too much, you don’t have to leave it there. But I know you’re into pins now.” That explains it. He bought and pinned it there. And if she knows anything, inside will be a bottle of orange juice and some candy, in case she needs the sugar boost during the day. She hates that he does it, but as of late, she’s needed then more and more. 

“When’s my doctor’s appointment again?”

“Tomorrow, Tuesday. 1:30. I’ll be there to get you before your lunch time.”

“I’m going to miss trig.”

“You mean you’re going to miss Elizabeth,” Calum corrects, shouldering the loaded up backpack. 

“No, I’m failing trig, not failing in my relationship.”

“Smart ass,” he laughs as they shuffle out of the door. “C’mon. You’ve got a test first period and you’re not being late as an excuse.”

“Oh, c’mon, Dad. It’s World History. I can ace it in my sleep.” 

It’s true, but still, he’s not going to risk it. Ariyana plays with her phone, mostly texting but Calum’s not shocked. When his stops in the parking lot, the buses are already lined up and unloading. Ariyana grabs her bag, but not before leaning across the console and kissing Calum on his cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Kick ass on that test. Don’t be afraid to go to the nurse’s office or call me if you feel another dizzy spell, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“Tell Elizabeth I said hi, alright?” 

Ariyana can’t stop the smile as she shuts the door. The window already rolled down. “You love having that power, don’t you?”

Calum laughs, leaning forward into the steering wheel but not pressing down on the horn. “C’mon your pops has to have a little fun, ya know.” 

She rolls her eyes, wishing she could seriously be upset. But instead, all there is is elation. She calls out another ‘love you’ and then starts towards the front doors. Right on the curb is Elizabeth, waiting for her. Their embrace is quick and they shuffle inside, hand in hand. There’s a moment, where there’s a small pause, Ari showing off the pin and Calum can only grin watching them. “You’re probably already seeing this Jaz. But God, she’s growing up fast. Her first girlfriend. Like, fuck, I’m getting old. So old, but I hope you’re proud. I hope she’s everything you wanted in a daughter. I hope I’m doing you proud.”

Calum knows he’s been watching too long when the buses start to leave. But part of him is worried. Afraid that he’ll pull out of the parking lot and she’ll wind up in the nurse's office waiting for him to rush to get her. He’s worried that he’s going to pull off and when he comes back she’s going to graduate. It might be her second year in high school but it already feels like with every blink she keeps growing up. He can’t stop her. He can’t keep her as that babbling baby on his chest who’d laugh at the raspberries on her cheeks. 

It’s on the drive back home, when there’s no music, no laughing from his right. When it’s just him and the road and the breeze floating in that he feels something on his cheek. It’s warm for a quick moment, even tinkles, and then gone. It’s not a bug, not some stray piece of hair. It encompassed his whole cheek and he thinks it was Jazmyne, cupping his cheek, like she always did before she’d pinched his cheeks. It never failed to annoy him. 

A tear slips from his eye. At the last red light before turning into his neighborhood, he doesn’t stop the ones that overflow the waterlines of his eyes. “I know you’re there.”

Tagging: @5-secondsofcolor @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles

#calum hood #calum hood fic #calum hood blurb #calum hood fanfic #calum hood imagine #calum hood fluff #calum hood angst #happy ending #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #singledad!cal #single dad!au #h writes #adoption #love #family #calum 5sos

[mychemicalxmen]

The Umbrella Academy College Theatre Kid AU Plot

Alright bitches, ask and ye shall receive. 

Here’s the 6k summary of this ten-chapter monstrosity I almost wrote a year ago and just now attempted to flesh out.

Canon divergence from the point of their birth onward. The Commission doesn’t exist here, it would just make everything a little too complicated. No Luther/Allison either, personal preference. If anyone would want to try writing or drawing a scene from this universe, I would be over the heckin moon, please feel free to do w/e if any part of this inspires anyone. And if anyone just wants to shoot hc, pop off!

But yeah. This is a crack concept treated dead seriously. Buckle up.

Chapter One - “Overture”

-I wrote this chapter, but it’s Really Not Good. I had just watched the show and hadn’t written fic in a Hot Minute.

-Welcome to Umbrella University, a top-tier school with a sacrilegiously large budget for the fine arts!

-They’re all freshman atm.

-Basically, all of our kiddos (except Five, we’ll get there) are cleaning the theater between shows in the fall season. Allison is acting House Crew Chief and is overseeing the whole thing. The others are on House Crew for various reasons - tech class credit, volunteer hours, etc. No one is actually studying theatre for their major except Allison, who’s double-majoring in acting and something else

-They’re essentially strangers (except Ben and Klaus, who are assigned roommates). They’re all aware of their own powers, but not any of the others’.

-As they clean, the host on the radio is going on about the one-year anniversary of his favorite “Hargreeves Five” (the current Academy, made up of different kids from the 43, and definitely not based on the ASBO Five) battle, apprehending a robber named Erick Webber in New York City. He was a starving actor who stole from large donation funds that were supposed to be distributed to other starving artists. The battle got violent, and fire got involved. What a spectacle!

-Vanya, who has accidentally skipped her meds that day, sees a rat and screams, prompting Luther to drop the lighting equipment he’s working on. Loud sound. Telekinetic energy starts going.

-There is a comically convenient chain reaction in which all of the siblings’ powers are triggered at once - Diego throws something, Klaus levitates, the Horror has to hold up the light rig, Allison has to rumor to memory-wipe the witnesses, etc.

-Once they have the situation under control, they realize it’s… weird. The odds are absolutely astronomical. How the hell did they all end up in the same place??

-There’s no reason to believe anyone brought them together on purpose, except maybe fate, or whatever Mysterious Space Magic caused their birth in the first place. They have a private House Crew meeting with a lot of freaking out and questions and bonding.

Chapter Two - “God I Hope I Get It”

-Fast forward to junior year. Since that fateful day, the theater has become the siblings’ home base. Luther is the shop foreman this year, Allison is seated at the right hand of the theatre department director (a sharp middle-aged woman who directs half of the shows), Diego knows his way around lights, and Klaus frequently builds and paints in the scene shop. Allison’s the only one of them who actually performs.

-The fall season includes Hair and Othello, and the joint audition for both is quickly approaching.

-Vanya, however, has been drifting away from it all for some reason. Allison finds her in the quad one day and encourages her to audition for Othello. Apparently, the theatre director has observed Vanya’s love of reading plays from afar and asked for her specifically. Vanya doesn’t want to go anywhere near the theater, but she’s touched by Allison’s belief in her and reluctantly says she’ll think about it.

-Diego is going through his classes and can’t help but feel like there’s this one freshman that’s just… following him. Looking at him funny. Keeps showing up in all his usual spots. Must be one of those obnoxious wiz kids - there’s no way in hell that he’s eighteen years old.

-Vanya has a monologue in her back pocket, her favorite from Winter’s Tale, ready to go. But when the day of the audition comes, she walks into the theater for the first time in months, and she breaks down and runs to the bathroom. Allison is too busy helping the director to console her, so she sends Klaus to check on her.

-Klaus talks to her through the door and tries to hype her up for the audition. Ghost!Ben tells him to reel it in.

-Vanya eventually admits that she drifted away from the theater because it was always a special place for the six of them, but after Ben died in a car crash in sophomore year, thinking about it just broke her heart all over again.

-Klaus doesn’t quite have the tact of language to bring her comfort, but Ben does. Without revealing he can see Ben, Klaus just echoes his words. Saying that Ben would still want her to be happy here. Saying that it’s okay to take time to work through all those feelings. He stays there until Vanya’s calm enough to come out of the bathroom, hug him for a really long time, and then go into her audition.

-The cast lists go out, and all the siblings run to see the one for Othello. Allison is the stage manager, to the surprise of no one, and has already seen that she’ll be playing Dionne in Hair. The headmaster’s kid (who I never gave a name, so let’s just call him Ollie) is playing Othello, some guy named Leonard is playing Roderigo, and Vanya is playing Desdemona. While they’re leaving to celebrate, Diego sees The Weird Freshman sign his initial on the cast list, confirming his role. He takes a peek at it later and wonders how this five-foot-six gremlin was cast as Iago, and what kind of a name is Five, anyway?

Chapter Three - “Good Morning Starshine”

-Production on Hair has begun.

-Diego is still a vigilante, but like, specifically for the college’s organization for fighting sexual harassment. Make no mistake, he is not endorsed by the club in any way, shape, or form. But when fellow criminal justice major Eudora Patch gets catcalled on a late night walk home from the library, a fraternity douchebag gets his hoodie pinned to the wall with a knife and receives an extremely harsh talking-to.

-Eudora just sighs into the darkness like “Diego was that really necessary” and keeps walking and Diego runs up to meet her like “yes??”

-Insert exposition here about how they’re exes but there’s still that Tension and fond bickering from the show. Eudora thinks he should get involved in other things on campus, but he immediately rejects it. No. Nope. Nothing else going on. Just lights. And Batman.

-Luther and Allison often hang out in one of the hallways of the theater for lunch. Allison complains that she’s in charge of a lot of little projects in the program, and it’s hard to get people to listen to her. Luther complains that Diego hasn’t been showing up to help in the shop lately. Even though Diego’s not officially on set crew, it’s a little suspicious that he hasn’t been around.

-The mainstage theater has been going through a very fancy refurbishment, and a new chandelier just came in. How the department has the money for a chandelier, no one has any idea. There’s an inside joke that the theatre director must be having a scandalous lesbian affair with the headmaster.

-After a while, Luther enlists Klaus to help him to figure out what Diego’s hiding. With their single shared braincell, it takes them a little too long to realize that Diego’s name is on the Hair cast list. But that can’t possibly be right.

-Luther and Klaus sneak into the blackbox (a smaller, more intimate theater) in the middle of a Hair rehearsal and, sure enough, holy shit, Diego is actually onstage as one of the tribe people, lowkey having the time of his life.

-Enter UT Dallas transfer David Katz in the role of Claude. And it’s just. On sight. Klaus is down for the goddamn count.

-“Who is that??” “I know, right? Like, that’s our brother.” “No, no, not him. The really pretty one.”

-At the end of whatever song they’re doing, Diego locks eyes with Luther and almost dies of embarrassment right then and there.

-Cue big long childish argument of “why didn’t you tell us you had any interest in being in the musical?” and “I didn’t know I had any interest either oKAY you weren’t supposed to find out” “how wouldn’t we have found out you IDIOT we LIVE HERE.”

-At the end of rehearsal, Diego is feeling entirely beaten down. As is Allison, up to her eyeballs in responsibility. They sit on the loading dock and Diego admits he didn't want to make a big deal out of the fact that he was in Hair. But he’s actually really digging the songs and the messages and the comradery. Even though musical theatre is dumb. Allison assures him it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

Chapter Four - “What’s the Buzz?”

-Production on Othello has begun.

-Fluffy opening that’s just a montage of Disaster Klaus repeatedly trying to justify sitting in on Hair rehearsal. “Sure, Allison, let me cut out those gels.” “Sure, Dance Captain, I can record the choreography.” “Shut up, Ben, I’m just really into American military history.”

-Meanwhile he’s just…… watching the show, listening to Dave sing, waiting for the right moment to strike up a Totally Casual Conversation with him.

-And it happens! Eventually.

-Diego meets Eudora on the loading dock and comes clean to her about the fact that he’s in the musical. Eudora is shocked and amused and teases him a little for it, but she’s ultimately supportive. And endeared. Cute bickering.

-When she leaves for her next class, Five is six feet away sipping coffee like “Oh, you’re both the same major? Aww that’s adorable.”

-Diego finally confronts him and asks him what his deal is and Five says something cryptic about “Reggie’s bastards”. Diego grabs him by the arm and drags him to the empty dressing room and interrogates him on everything he knows.

-Five is somewhere in his thirties, he can teleport, his body’s been screwed up by time travel complications, he knows about all the others, and he’s “played a game of hopscotch with an unsympathetic god”. When asked why he came back to this time in particular, he dodges the question with some snarky reply of how he’s not sure he made the right call.

-They decide not to tell everyone else all at once, until they hear faint movement. They find Klaus buried under a throw blanket on The Couch that every theater has, a little stoned, stirring from a midday dressing room nap.

-”I’m a BOY in LOVE, leave me aLONE.”

Chapter Five - “No One is Alone”

-Once again, Allison is overwhelmed. She had rumored her way into the double major when she didn’t actually have the high school credits necessary to graduate on time, but since meeting the other siblings, she’d sworn off using her power. If she was caught, it could start a breadcrumb trail to the others and expose all of them. And like, they just want to get out of here with their degrees, man.

-The theatre department director has had to assign her the most incompetent freshmen in the world to manage with assorted housekeeping tasks. They have an attitude, they don’t know how anything works, and Allison simply doesn’t have the time to lead them. She comes to the theatre director to explain this.

-And for the first time in a long while, the director expresses sternness to her. And it hurts.

-”Come on, Allison, we both know you’re good with people. You can be very persuasive when you want to be. You will work this out.”

-It’s very pointed. She will work this out. There is no other option.

-And. Not to be self-centered, but the spring musical is going to be Cabaret, and Allison has been convinced she had Sally Bowles in the bag. But if she gets on the director’s bad side halfway through junior year…

-It’s a particularly tense day, ten minutes before she has to sign in for Hair rehearsal. Some poor freshman is organizing the costume closet and just doesn’t get it and doesn’t want to be here and the director demands that this is done by the end of the day.

-So. It’s just one. It’s no big deal. She just heard the oddest little rumor that the student could make the closet perfectly tidy within the hour.

-Five and Vanya are at rehearsal for Othello. Now that he’s actually talked to Diego and Klaus, he feels a little more at ease being in this place and time. The two have plenty of time to chat while on breaks. And because Vanya is such a chill, calming force compared to the stubborn and impulsive Diego, it goes a lot smoother.

-Neither of them can stand Ollie, the headmasters’ pretentious son who’s playing Othello, going on and on about his actor step-brother in New York. Whatever. He likes to creep around the scene shop, too. Like he’s judging the tech. I’d like to see YOU pick up a drill, sir.

-He’s also really close to the theatre director. No one’s ever heard them interact, but they’ve sure seen them together. And he’s not even putting in all the hours for her that Allison is.

-Vanya and Five probably get coffee before rehearsal. Run lines. Five rambles about the flaws in Shakespeare’s philosophies over an americano. And they eventually tell each other their stories.

-Pogo had gone with Sir Reginald to examine the children and their potential prior to adoption. Reginald’s technology sensed great power in Vanya, even as an infant. After Vanya’s mother refused to sell, Pogo went behind Reginald’s back and made contact with the mother, advising her on how to suppress Vanya’s powers (but not emotions) with medication whenever they couldn’t be internally controlled. Vanya was good at self-control for much of her childhood, but the adjustment to college and grief of losing Ben put her back in a risky zone, so she’s been leaning a little more heavily on her medicine these days. She knows the adrenaline she gets onstage is good and natural, but it makes her nervous about forgetting a dose again.

-Five’s mother was quite a character. The name came from the fact that, during birth, Five first hit the air at exactly 12:00:05.

-Five had practiced his time jumps all through his childhood. (With none of the spite and rush he had in canon, he had no need to leap years right away, so he took it slow.) Sometimes he would get stuck in a place for a while, but his mom was cool and understood this. He would adapt to the new environment, anywhere between hours and weeks, and jump right back when he got enough rest to use his power again. There were some bugs, some problems with exact accuracy of destination, but he was always working on it. He was very lonely, though, never getting to meet with any of the other 43 and being discouraged from doing so by his mother.

-There was a portion of the future he got stuck in as a teenager in which the nation was governed by a tyrannical organization called “The Macbeth Enterprise”.

-Vanya immediately tries to shush him at this point in the story because he said the Bad Theatre Word. The director is very superstitious. She takes it deadly seriously and has threatened to actually penalty anyone who says it in the theater. Five just chuckles.

-And luckily, they’re rehearsing in the blackbox today, so even if the director could hear, it’s not “in the theater”.

-The future he saw was a century ahead of them, far beyond their lifetime. He was able to glean a little information about the origins of the Enterprise, but he shares none of this with Vanya. Firstly, those in power had high-tech augmentation that gave them a perfect replica of the kind of superpowers the 43 had - mind manipulation, immortality, etc. And secondly, they were credited with destroying the Hargreeves Five. As if the Hargreeves Five were a danger to society.

-What he does tell Vanya is that he’d never made any attempt to change the timeline before, but that’s just what he decided to do. With what little information he had, the only thing he could think of was to ruin the Enterprise’s namesake.

-Five spent literal years of his life, traveling from city to city across centuries, dooming various productions of Macbeth with Commission-level pragmatism until the name of the play itself became the taboo we know irl today.

-Vanya’s laughing. Five is too, honestly. It’s crazy.

-But he didn’t do what he did out of a ridiculous dare to himself. He did it out of desperation to not only to save the country, but to save his family as well. The family he’d never known. The kids all across the globe who went through the same strange hell of differentness that he had since birth. The Hargreeves Five, of course, needed to survive, as they’re responsible for maintaining peace on earth anyway. But if the Hargreeves Five were hunted down, why would the Enterprise stop there? Wouldn’t all 43 of them be in danger? Would all their gifts be harvested from them, and would they then be thrown away?

-But who knows if Five actually made a difference? He prays that it did. But the years of isolation in his personal mission convinced him of one thing - he should know his family. He had no idea when the country would start falling to shit - if it still would - but he could keep an eye on it alongside people who understood him. And with his foresight, maybe they could rise against the evil together.

-And maybe he was just so tired of being alone.

-So, digging was done through the Internet and several libraries in several eras. He found his insertion point at the University. He knew he’d have to look a little younger to fit in.

-But naturally, he got some equations wrong.

-Eventually, Five is formally introduced to Luther and Allison, who welcome him with slight skepticism, followed by a strong bear hug. Five’s not sure how to take the physical affection. He nods, which is a completely normal response to a hug, wraps his arms back around them, and tries to keep his eyes from leaking.

Chapter Six - “Whispering”

-It’s tech week of Hair, and because he’s been blowing his voice out in rehearsal from underdeveloped technique, Diego is on vocal rest.

-Most of this chapter is Diego Is On Vocal Rest and Everyone Gives Him Shit About It in a Loving Way.

-“Everyone” includes Eudora. She just bought her tickets for opening night.

-One early afternoon, Luther and Klaus are back in the scene shop together - Luther’s moving some lumber around and Klaus is carefully painting a setting onto a flat - and Luther vents that he’s not looking forward to running spotlight on Othello. He knows he can do it, but he wishes the theatre director would trust him with more authority and let him be Technical Director.

-Ben is eternally rolling his eyes and bitching about how entitled Luther sounds. He’s already the goddamn shop foreman. Klaus tries not to laugh at how annoyed Ben is about this.

-“But Diego could totally go back to lights for Othello! Hair will be over by then! He’s the pro! If I were TD I’d put him back on in an instant!”

-Dave wanders into the shop and says “hey” and Klaus nearly drops his wet paint brush onto the floor.

-After the brief succession of clumsy attempts Klaus had made to connect with Dave, Dave is actually bothering to return the effort.

-Luther is oblivious as hell while he’s toting the lumber around just like “Oh hi! Welcome! You’re new right? I’m Luther. I’m the shop foreman. You ever been on a tech crew before?” and this whole cringey spiel of small talk he usually gives to new students.

-About a minute into the small talk Luther finally sees how awkward Dave feels and how tense Klaus looks and he’s just like ohhhhh.

-He moves his task about eight feet further away to give them some space to talk. Even though that’s definitely not where the lumber is supposed to go. He just doesn’t want to make it weirder.

-Anyway. Insert fluff that isn’t obscenely flirtatious but is like… flirting with flirtatious.

-Later on that day, Leonard is tapped by the headmaster to join Student Government. Must’ve been one hell of a GPA. The new commitment forces him to give up the part of Roderigo in Othello.

-Leonard tells Allison this. Shit. Just what she needed today. She turns to her assistant stage manager and murmurs, shrugging off the guilt as she says it: “I heard a rumor you broke the news to our director as gently as possible.”

-After an eternity of assembling, dusting, and re-dusting, the Umbrella University theater chandelier is finally risen, ready for the first show of the season.

Chapter Seven - “The Life of the Party”

-After a hurried round of reviewing the audition tapes from the beginning of the year, Dave has been cast to fill the part of Roderigo.

-The technical director of Othello quit. No one’s really sure why. He was solid. But Luther’s been asked to step up, and he’s been trusted to pick anyone he wants to fill his previous spot on lights.

-Cue super petty conversation about how they both know Diego’s bomb at lights but they still annoy each other just by existing. Nonetheless, Diego agrees to hop onto Othello crew.

-Guess what, y’all, it’s opening night of Hair.

-Hard cut to Eudora, Luther, and Klaus, standing awkwardly together in the theater lobby, holding bouquets of various sizes and colors, convincing themselves that it’s a totally platonic gift to give to an actor.

-The show goes great. At the end of opening weekend, the cast and crew and friends go out to celebrate at the local bar and grill.

-At some point, the drinks are on Ollie, and everyone knows he and his mom are loaded. So. More drinks are had than ought to be had.

-ESPECIALLY by Five. He starts rambling about this girl named Delores in his quantum physics class and how he’s not sure if he’s allowed to find her attractive because of how complicated his age is.

-Vanya needed to get drunk. She deserved it. Now she’s yelling about this girl named Sissy in her chamber orchestra. What is happening.

-I’m not saying that Klaus and Dave had their first kiss while buzzed and behind the TUA equivalent of an Applebee’s, but I’m not not saying it.

-Luther has like two beers and starts getting emotional about how pretty the moon is.

-In classes the next morning, everyone’s hungover as shit.

-Except Allison, who was the extra careful Mom Friend and made sure her siblings made it home safe.

-Except Klaus. Who. Y’know. Didn’t really make it home. Ben goes to his 8 AM and takes Ghost Notes for him.

-Sometime that week, Luther comes into the director’s office with a question and sees her finishing a phone call, looking distraught.

-He asks if she’s okay. She doesn’t want to explain, but it eventually comes out that her son was in an accident of sorts three years ago. It’s almost the anniversary. He just got another treatment for the burn scars across half of his face. The director is still grieving the fact that it’s highly unlikely he’ll find success in his dream to be a Broadway actor.

-Luther warns Allison that the director might be in a worse mood this week. So that’s great.

-At an Othello rehearsal, Allison is calling cues from her promptbook. She pretty much has them memorized. But apparently, as the theatre director tells her, she keeps getting them wrong today?

-Allison could swear that last time she was at rehearsal, her book was different. What she’s reading is unfamiliar - lefts instead of rights, blue-outs instead of black-outs, etc. So she’s stumbling.

-On break, the theatre director expresses her frustration to Allison. We’re almost in tech week, for God’s sake. Allison apologizes and promises it won’t happen in the run.

-Allison blames her screw-ups on the stress of her overcommitments. Vanya sees she’s a little upset after the exchange and invites her to hang with her and Five after rehearsal.

-Vanya and Five have actually opened a pretty decent dialogue on mental health as it relates to their abilities, with Five’s powers damaging his psychological state and Vanya’s mood being an element of her telekinesis. Vanya reminds Allison that she’s got a lot on her plate, so she should try to take it easy where she can.

-Vanya still has anxiety, and it tends to flare at the part in the play where Othello smothers Desdemona with a pillow. They had worked out a safe plan in rehearsal. The pillow is thin and held at an angle so Vanya can still breathe, and it is only going to be held for a count of twelve. No longer, no shorter.

-Vanya and her siblings also take some more time to bitch about Ollie, too. Did you hear him accidentally call the director “mom” the other day? How embarrassing. What a dork.

-Hair closes and Othello tech week begins.

-A new batch of freshman House Crew members are cleaning up the theater one day with the radio on.

-It’s now the three year anniversary of the host’s favorite Hargreeves Five battle, a showdown against aspiring actor and convicted robber Erick Webber that went up in flames.

Chapter Eight - “Brush Up Your Shakespeare”

-The twelve-hour cue-to-cue tech rehearsal for Othello is a nightmare. But aren’t all cue-to-cues nightmares?

-They are.

-There might be some fluffy sibling stuff here, but nothing important. Luther, Diego, and Allison are speaking on headset with each other (“on com”). The channel also includes the assistant stage manager and assistant tech director.

-About five hours in, Luther and Diego get real sick of each other. Luther is redundant with his directions. Diego knows what to do. Diego keeps jumping the gun on cues. Passive aggression ensues.

-Allison has had it up to HERE and says “Look, if you’re gonna be children, can you please do it on a different channel?”

-And they do. They dedicate a whole other radio channel to Luther and Diego arguing where the rest of the crew can’t hear it.

-It’s during the cue-to-cue that Allison screws up the calls one too many times - is someone editing her promptbook when she’s not around? - and gets one more comment from the director. It’s worded like encouragement but spoken like a threat.

-“Allison, you were doing so well with the freshman. Just tell yourself you can do this. You’ll be perfect.”

-At lunch break, she wants to collapse. She goes to the bathroom, locks the door, and looks into the mirror.

-“I heard a rumor that you followed that promptbook perfectly.”

-The day after cue-to-cue, Vanya realizes she’s lost her meds. They have to be in the theater somewhere, but she can’t find them. Her siblings assure her that being in the show has improved her overall confidence, and they’ll all come running if she starts to have a meltdown for any reason. She’ll be able to control her emotions until she can get a refill. This warms her lil heart.

-The final dress rehearsals come to pass. Vanya continues to flourish. Five continues to impress and confound. Allison is flawless. Luther and Diego get over themselves. Klaus and Eudora get front row seats for opening night. It’s going to be a packed house. The local news are coming and filming segments to promote the program. As if the program needs any more support. The chandelier still boggles the mind.

-Opening night. The show is going spectacularly until Act V, when Ollie starts pressing the pillow over Vanya’s face.

-This is always the hard part. But it’s just a count of twelve, underscored by two bars of music.

-Until it isn’t. 

-Ollie keeps pressing. This wasn’t what we rehearsed. 

-Allison sees this from the booth and almost feels like they should call a hold, but her rumor kicks in and she can’t help but keep calling the show as normal.

-Vanya starts to hear the music amplified in her ears and starts to lose control of her power.

-Luther and Diego are both in Allison’s headset as the building starts to shake. “Allison, you need to call hold. Right now. Call hold!”

-Panicking, Vanya sends a pulse of energy out, knocking Ollie halfway across the stage, sending the flats crashing down, and shattering a row of stage lights. When she stands up, Ollie is smiling.

-The news crew caught it on tape. The audience is freaking out. Most of them try to flee but are trapped inside at the back of the house.

-Allison’s next call is the newest and strangest unauthorized edit she’s seen in her promptbook. It’s for the wrong play.

-“Spot B to Macbeth.”

-At the first time that its trigger phrase has ever been uttered in the building, the chandelier starts to glow and expand. Then, it drops, lower and lower, until it is right in front of the stage.

-It was never just a chandelier. It’s a piece of extra-terrestrial technology. Standing on the shelf on top of it are the director and the headmaster.

Chapter Nine - “The Point of No Return”

-I don’t know exactly how I’d reveal all of this, but here’s the gist.

-By the way, this is them coming out as extra-as-hell supervillains. So the way this is revealed is probably extra as hell.

-The director’s son is Erick Webber, a starving artist who resorted to a life of crime to pay his bills and got himself tangled with the Hargreeves Five, who are responsible for half of his face burning in the heat of battle.

-The director and the headmaster actually have been romantically involved for a few years, all but legally married.

-When the directors’ son was forever barred from the career of his dreams, the director and very wealthy headmaster first got together. The headmaster got her a job at the school.

-They wanted revenge for their son. But they also deduced that the Hargreeves Five were too immature for their powers and potential to ruin lives. They were just dumb kids. Their powers must be taken from them and placed into more capable hands.

-The couple had done extensive research, learned about the power potential in the 43, tracked down as many of them as they could find - preferably those already living in America - and hired all sorts of people and services to promote Umbrella University to them. They offered each one of them a sizable scholarship.

-They got seven of them.

-And they arranged meetings with characters that Hargreeves had done some shady deals with so they could acquire the otherworldly technology needed to set their plan into motion.

-And Macbeth was the trigger word for the invention - the story of an old celebrated king slain to make room for the rightful leader, as plotted by an empowered and bloodthirsty woman - so they had to put it in a theater. They had to ensure the trigger wasn’t spoken in the room until the correct time.

-Five realizes at this point that the efforts he made to change the past didn’t stop the Macbeth Enterprise, it just gave them a way more convenient origin. God dammit.

-The siblings realize Ollie was in on the whole thing. He had to make sure all seven of the kids were in the theater at the right time, so he snooped around and reported back to the Evil Moms. They let Luther be TD so Diego could cover lights. They cast Five, made Allison recruit Vanya, and made Allison SM. They took out Leonard and cast Dave to ensure Klaus and Ben would be there for opening. Ollie hid Vanya’s pills during the cue-to-cue.

-Allison realizes the director knew about her power all along and really was suggesting that she use it. Allison had done exactly what they wanted her to. They must’ve had someone re-do the promptbook each day and everything.

-The point is, there’s now news footage of a girl with unpredictably dangerous powers ruining a perfectly good school play and two women making a solid case that these children can’t be trusted with their gifts. The chandelier machinery revs up to perform its task - stripping all of their powers away.

-Five knows it won’t end there - the powers will be turned against the Hargreeves Five. Their abilities will be harvested too. And the hands that they’ll all end up in will be military-minded and will seize control of the nation, ruling by fear.

-There’s an extensive fight scene here. One that, again, I have no idea how I would write. It’s something that involves a level of family teamwork that they would not have if the theatre program didn’t bring them so close together in the first place. So it’s pretty ironic and kinda sweet.

-We find out that Dave and Eudora are absolutely ride-or-die for their idiot boyfriends that they just found out have terrifying superpowers, and they each have a moment where they contribute to the takedown.

-Ben is summoned because he legally has to be. The Horror can do some serious damage to the machine, and he finds he’s unaffected by its drainage because he’s dead as hell.

-Vanya grabs a violin from the pit where the underscoring was being played and shreds away at it to channel her power.

-The fight has heavy parallels to the prologue scene, where everyone’s powers went berserk because Vanya saw a rat and freaked out. Except there’s obviously a lot more at stake and a lot more direction in it.

-All of that gets resolved, somehow. Any of their power that gets drained gets returned to them once they get the machine shut down. Luther effortlessly snaps the tape of evidence in half.

-Allison uses her last rumor of junior year to memory-wipe and send away the cameramen and the witnesses.

-Except Eudora and Dave, who are surprisingly chill about this and promise to keep it all secret.

-The gang has no idea how to explain all the damage to the authorities, but the Criminal Justice Duo knows how to detain the bad guys in the costume closet and highlight some evidence to draw the focus to the less-than-legal dealings they made to set up their plot in the first place.

-Corruption? In college administration?? Pssshhh noooooooo never.

-The story embedded in the rumor is that the chandelier overheated and combusted, so everyone ran out. The police will discover the alien tech and go from there.

-Still, the superpower squad realizes they should lay low. Play dumb if interviewed. Skip class for a couple days and stay far away from the theatre department.

-Diego is up on the catwalk - the walkway above the audience where they maneuver the spotlights - collecting his stuff. He hears some footsteps on the ladder and sees Eudora climbing up to meet him.

-Diego starts to say something snarky and casual and Eudora’s like “No. Shut up. Just. Please. Shut up.” and kisses him.

-After weeks of pretending not to care as much as they really did and a solid half hour of having no idea if the other would live or die, here they are, standing over the decimated theater, finally at ease in each other’s arms

Chapter Ten - “Curtain Call”

-And that’s… it. When the siblings start coming back to classes, no one comes after them for whatever happened.

-Needless to say, the rest of the run of Othello has been cancelled. All theatre classes will be moved online or converted to classroom formats until repairs can be made to the building. There’s a new interim headmaster and theatre department director.

-It’s going to take forever for them to fix the damage done to the theater, and even when they do, it doesn’t feel right to keep that as their home base. So, where to now? How are they gonna fill the rest of their electives?

-All of the fine arts buildings are stacked close together. Music major Vanya has an idea.

-Second semester, Diego takes beginning percussion. Luther joins the marching band (and far exceeds the athletic demands for it). Klaus picks guitar back up. Allison ventures into vocal jazz. Five is a natural at composition.

-Sharing practice rooms. Cramming for theory exams. The entire works. They’re music kids now!

-They’re thrilled when they find out that all of their respective ensembles will be featured in the spring concert. 

-But does the conductor of Vanya’s chamber orchestra seem a little… eccentric to you?

...

im a broken woman from this. god dammit.

#tua #the umbrella academy #what the hell else to tag this as #diedora #klave #Reginald They're Thespians #the chapter titles are semi-relevant names of show songs ha get it??

[unsettledink]

Back in the days of LJ, I used to try and do a post at the end of each year, looking back primarily at fandom and fic. I fell out of the habit when everything moved to tumblr, and then it seemed like I didn’t have anything to say since I wasn’t writing or really participating any. 

But I always liked the idea of it, because I love to be overly reflective on stuff. And talk about my fic. Any excuse! I shuffled around some of the topics I used back then and added a few I’ve seen around that I liked. It got… long, because I TALK, so I split into two sections. 

*

Your main fandom of the year? 

    Marvel (MCU) for sure. Primarily with characters from Spider-Man and Iron Man movies.

Your favorite film watched this year?

    The Old Guard - I saw a couple trailers and everything about it looked like catnip. ‘It’s probably going to be so dumb, but I don’t even care,’ I thought. And then it was so good. It was so much fun and so much smarter than I expected and I loved each and every character and it just made me happy in so many ways.

Your favorite book read this year?

    Red, White, and Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston - I read it twice this year actually. It’s so… cute isn’t the right world. Sweet and hopeful and soft and comforting and intense. I liked every single character which is pretty rare. I cried during the sad parts and then again at the happy ending, like straight up sobbed - both times. I already want to read it again.

Your favorite tv show watched this year?

    Schitt’s Creek - I started it on a whim and because a lot of people had said it was good. The episodes were short so it wasn’t a huge time investment. The first season was a little rough, but there were enough funny moments that I hung on, and then… I kept getting fonder and fonder of these idiots as they grew. And THEN… it kept not disappointing me? 

     You grow to expect certain scripts, twists, jokes, especially in queer story lines. To wait for the bad thing to happen, because it always does. Instead, Schitt’s Creek kept going, ‘hey, here’s the set up for that! Guess what? We’re not doing it. Here’s the happy version instead.’ The relief of having that happen again and again - the last season I’ve watched (I’m sort of saving 6) I cried a bunch but it was always because I was happy. 

Your favorite album or song to listen to this year?

    1896 - I’ve been waiting for the new Steam Powered Giraffe album so eagerly for aaaaaages. Finally getting recordings of Zero’s songs! Lying Awake remains my favorite off the album, with Eat Your Heart and Bad Days on the Horizon high up there as well. I’m loving what Zero brings to the band.

Your best new fandom discovery of the year?

    I don’t know if I really did discover that much? I stuck pretty closely to old fandoms and the ones I picked up in 2019. Maybe Zodiac? It was definitely inspiring, and I want to write and read more in it. 

    Maybe the couple discords I joined? I still really dislike discord and am not on there much, and mostly lurk when I am, but having somewhere vaguely like the comms I remember makes me feel a little less isolated. It’s the potential, that maybe if I said something I might make a friend, or someone might actually want to hear what I say. 

Your biggest fandom disappointment of the year?

    The Watch - I mean, I knew it was going to be a disaster with every word said during pre production. I wasn’t ever going to be happy with it. And then it came out and was even worse and uglier and … disrespectful not just of the source material but of actual people connected to Terry. I’m beyond disappointed that this is what we got, and it’s probably going to be a long time before we get anything else. 

    Devil All the Time was terrible, but I didn’t have especially high hopes. It still didn’t manage to meet them. Yikes.

The most missed of your old fandoms?

    Maybe MASH? Someone I follow started talking about it and I was reminded all over again of the wonderful fics in that fandom. I went looking and a lot are gone (still on my computer, lol, but not online), but rereading was such a trip. A slightly depressing trip, but still. 

The fandom you haven't tried yet, but want to?

    Hmm. I’ve kind of not had the energy to invest in other fandoms at the moment? When The Witcher was having it’s big moment back in January, I had a feeling I might enjoy it enough to fall headfirst into the fandom, so I avoided watching it. Ikr? I don’t have the time or the energy to actively seek anything out. 

Your biggest fan anticipations for the New Year?

    SO EXCITED about Winter’s Orbit. I mean, the third Spider-Man movie for sure, with worry. The second Venom movie, ugh yes. I have tentative hopes for Jungle Cruise? Jumanji was stellar and I always enjoy Dwayne. I have both hope and dread for the new Suicide Squad - I did love Birds of Prey, so if it’s along those lines, yay. The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard because it should be some fun garbage, my favorite kind. I don’t know how I feel about Dune, but, uh, I’m anticipating it. It seems highly unlikely it will actually happen, but The Wheel of Time TV series. 

I want to be excited about Black Widow but it’s hard. It’s not the story I’ve been wanting to see, and I’m angry about Natasha not getting a movie until she’s dead.

You know. If any of it is released for real.

The Good: 

I moved to a better place. I got a better paying, better benefits, better environment job that lets me work from home. The house acquired 3-7 more cats depending on the month. I was able to get some serious problems on my car fixed. I have insurance and was able to start on some health stuff. No one I know got sick or died. I wrote a LOT.

The Bad: 

Aside from the obvious? Depression hitting extra hard during the winter. Having to put two kittens to sleep. Have my car be hit three times in our parking lot. Being driven INSANE by one of the cats for months while the vets were all closed. Kidney stone. Dealing with several health problems. Stalling for months on Gotcha.

The Indifferent: 

Not leaving the house often or easily. Enjoying a new fandom but not doing great at making connections (still real awkward, bud). Raising kittens and saying goodbye. Need new tires. Reading a lot of fic but not a lot of books. Having more pay but more expenses as well (wth insurance??). 

*

2020 fic stats

Number of stories: 39

Number of fandoms: 6? Or 2, if you cluster the others under mcu

Total number of words: 152049

Average word count per story: 4kish

Longest fic: Causality (18k, P/Q)

Shortest fic: Can’t, Won’t (1k, P/Q)

Most comments received: Sieche (49, T/P)

Fandom you wrote the most of: MCU Spider-Man - I only wrote TWO fics that didn’t feature that fandom, wow. And one of those was still MCU.

Fandom you wrote the least of: Zodiac (1!)

Events you participated in: Marvel Trumps Hate, Kinktober, IornspidersGeorg Exchange, Starker Festivals Exchange, MCU Secret Santa, Spiderio Big Bang

*

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted?

    SO MUCH MORE OMG. I mean, even just counting posted stuff! (I probably wrote a solid 300k of Gotcha this year.) I did not expect or plan on doing Kinktober, so that’s a whole 31 fics right there. I also wasn’t planning on doing any exchanges - I have a History - but then I did three? And beyond that, I did not expect for everything to get so LONG.

Topic you wrote that you would never have predicted in January:

    Tony/Quentin. Goddammit @the-me09 They were like hey, they could be interesting! And while I agreed, I had no ideas for them. THEN they had to go and write Just Bodies That Collide and next thing I know, I’ve got ten fics featuring them and two-six series focused on them or Peter/Quentin/Tony. What the fuck. 

Leitmotif of the year:

    Vulnerability, I think. I had a bunch of things typed up and they all circle back to vulnerability in the end; sex, being seen, being wanted, sharing trauma, asking for help, trying something new. Offering a soft spot in the hopes it won’t be hurt. 

Favorite character to write about: 

    Tony Stark, for sure. There are just a bunch of slightly different takes, and a lot of canon to work with (kind of frustrating too though). And I’m a sucker for emotionally damaged snarky traumatized characters that are viewed poorly both in universe and out. 

Favorite kind of fic to write:

    This year? Fluff and smut combined. Maybe that’s not the right term really. I keep looking for and writing, even in the angstiest fics, for those soft moments. Sure, maybe it’s a super smutty kink scene, but I want the affection to be obvious. Maybe everyone is consumed by guilt, but I want it to be based in caring too much. Maybe there’s no real love, just sex and even that’s messed up, but I want to find that tiny bit of fondness. 

    And I want happy endings. Or endings that look like they’re going to be happy, at least, even if there’s all the angst first. I don’t think I’ve killed anyone this year? Who AM I? 

Biggest disappointment:

    Not finishing the rough draft of Gotcha. I was making such good progress in 2019, from August to December. Even after the move, I basically finished part 6 in January. I fumbled around and fussed with 1 a lot, but that had already been given one draft, really, and I got through half of 4 before I slowed to a stop. I’ve barely gotten anything accomplished on it since June. Bits and pieces here and there, but nothing significant, not like I was doing. I can excuse October, due to 80k invested in Kinktober (yikes!), but aside from that… I’m sad. I’ll finish it eventually, but I really thought I could have the first draft done in a year. I’m sitting at about 480k out of what I’m almost certain will be 700k. 

Biggest surprise:

    Kinktober! It was kind of spur of the moment, decided just a week in advance. I’ve tried month long or even like, 20-25 day long challenges and I don’t think I’ve ever completed one. I thought there was a good chance I’d do so again, so I gave myself a little help and made my own list of prompts, things I knew I liked and hadn’t done much of yet. And it worked? I actually completed it, what the hell? Despite spending five days travelling near the end! Despite falling behind in getting ahead and writing a bunch of stories the day they were to be posted! Despite apparently forgetting how to do short form! 

    I, uh, could have done without the spawning of eleven series or sequels or continuations jfc WHY SELF.

Something you learned this year:

    Ideas breed ideas. I swear to god, the second I sit down to think through a current idea, I wake up the next morning with three more. 

    Words need to be restocked. I need to consume new - not rereads, not fic - content every so often to refresh my word bank. It is astonishing how quickly writing goes again after I’ve done so.

    I can write so much more than I thought I could. I can do so much more than I thought I could. Yes, I can complete challenges without dropping out early. Yes, I can do exchanges and not regret it. Yes, I can write more than 100k, more than 200k, more and more - and I can write 10k+ easily too. Though I wouldn’t mind if I could once again write less than 10k without feeling like I’ve cut off in the middle. 

    My time is shrinking, and if I want to write as much, I’m going to have to make the time. I can’t rely on three days off a week, on seven hours of uninterrupted overnight shifts, on hyper focused writing binges that leave everything else around me on fire. 

Most memorable comment: 

    So, so many! I can’t pick one. I’ve been really lucky to get a bunch of really detailed, enthusiastic, analyzing comments across all different fics. One of the types that always sticks with me are the ones like ‘I didn’t think/know I liked this ship/kink/twist, but fuck, apparently I do? You made me, what the hell?’. 

What, if anything, are you going to try to do differently in your writing in the new year?

So with writing Gotcha but not posting until it’s done, my view of what I’ve written vs anyone else’s is extremely skewed. I’m sitting here thinking, hey I’m 400k in and got another 10k done today, so much writing! While anyone looking at my AO3 account (for most of the year) is like, you’re averaging three months between fics :(

    All that to say I want to try and get something posted more frequently while I’m working on Gotcha.

    Also, writing for kinktober was really interesting - pushing myself to write every single day, often for that day’s post, forced me to get back into shorter form fic. Which used to be all I did? But it was surprisingly hard to just stop and not write more. So I’d like to challenge myself to write more fics under 10k at least. Maybe even under 5k though that might be asking a lot lol. I might get there with the many continuations of those fics I’d like to do. Does that count?

Goals:

   I want to hit 365 fics. :) I’m only 32 away!

    Aside from writing - 

    I’ve really enjoyed the reading record sideblog I started this year. I’ve let it lapse a little the past month or so, but I’d like to keep it going strong. 

    I’d like to leave a lot more comments. I want to get better about allowing imperfection - I want to write The Best Comment, but in the end? Probably 90% of fic writers are going to be happier with a comment expressing enjoyment in any way over no comment at all. 

And not just on fics, but on general posts as well. It’s hard not to feel… weird and stupid and invasive and rude leaving any sort of comment on someone’s post if I don’t know them at least a little. I have godawful rejection sensitive dysphoria and a lot of interactions that ended poorly; I’m really not good at people. But as dumb as it feels to say those things, I know I am thrilled and warmed and happier when there’s a reblog with tags or a note or a comment or an ask or just, any small interaction that shows someone out there notices and cares, at least a little. There’s no reason I can’t at least try to offer that to other people. 

    I’d like to make/run a couple challenges of my own, later in the year. I’m still figuring out what I want to do and what I could do. I’m really interested in doing something that’s not focused on creators, but the readers; some sort of comment or rec challenge maybe.

    I want to find a cheerleader for Gotcha. I’m struggling to keep up my motivation to write it when it’s already in my head, where I can ‘read’ it any time. There’s a line between depending too much on external validation and trying to generate all your validation yourself, and I’m getting to a point where I think I need to ask for help (gasp! The hardest thing EVER). 

*

(Part Two: Pick Some Fics)

#end of year #unsettled rambles

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

A/N: This fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. This particular chapter is Chris light as it’s mainly a getting to know the reader. Chapters going forward will be heavy on the Chris aspect. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome. Tag list is open, please send me an ask.

“Do you have the ring?”

“Of course, I have the ring.” You let out a frustrated breath. “This is so silly.”

Joanna chuckles over the line. “Where did you manage to get a ring from anyway?”

“It’s my grandmother’s. I feel like I’m majorly disrespecting her by wearing it when I’m not even engaged. Not to mention I’ve been single for-ev-er.” You drawl out.

“Breathe babe. Just breathe.” She says softly.

You inhale deeply and exhale it slowly.

“Maybe don’t do that directly into the phone.” She laughs again.

“Joanna Elizabeth.” You growl. “Why am I doing this?” You ask catching a glimpse of your reflection in the review mirror. Running a hand through your hair, you see the diamond engagement ring on your left finger. It feels so foreign, even stranger seeing it.

“Because this is a great opportunity to advance your career. Stone Lite is a major studio, Y/N. You can’t keep working on those student films.”

“Hey! I worked on a couple of independent movies. One even showed at Sundance.” You defend.

“And that’s awesome. Really. But this could be your big in. You’ve been doing this, what, for ten years?”

She was right. Ten years and the majority of your income came from student funded films and slinging beers three nights a week.

“And by your silence, you know I am right.”

Smug bitch.

“Ahuh.” You sigh.

“Look, I know it’s not right, but if this increases your chances of getting hired, just wear the damn ring.” Joanna huffs out.

“Easy for you to say, oh, wise married one.”

Joanna previously worked for Stone Lite Studios before moving on to Sony. It was a well-known amongst the employees that if you wanted to get hired for any position that put you in direct contact with any of the actors, you needed to be married. The studio was concerned with fan girls and fan boys. As if adults couldn’t control their urges and not make unwanted advances. Not to mention, married or not, some people still have affairs. Now granted, not every person there was married, but you had a greater advantage to get the job if you were. Right or wrong.

You drew the line at saying you were actually married and settled on being engaged. Not wanting to worry about details like how you kept your last name and lying on the tax forms you’d have to fill out. Even though you’ve only worked on small projects, Hollywood was surprisingly small when it came to the industry. It would be a lot harder to explain a sudden husband versus a fiancé. With Joanna’s agreement, you took your grandmother’s engagement ring from your jewelry box and slipped it on your finger.

“I’m just saying, give it a shot and see where this goes.” She reasoned.

“You’re right. You’re right. I better go in anyway. There’s a golf cart that keeps circling around the lot. They’re probably getting suspicious as to why I’m still in my car.”

She let out a chuckle. “They’re going to give you a ride to the offices. Welcome to the big leagues baby.”

 “Ms. Y/L/N, may I call you Y/N? Barbara Floyd, the interviewer and also the production manager asked.

The two of you had already gone over your previous crew history where you held a variety of positions including editor, grip, writer, and even wardrobe. On a whim, you took a script supervisor position on an independent short and really enjoyed it. The next job you took was on full length film in the same position, that’s when you decided that’s where your passion lied. Despite the copious amount of responsibility and that often brought on your anxiety, you loved the challenge.

“Of course, Mrs. Floyd.”

Her eyes went directly to your left hand. “That’s a beautiful ring.” She says.

Here we go.

“Thank you.” You stick your hand out for added affect.

“When’s the wedding?” She asks.

“Next year. We have a lot of out of town family. We just want to make sure they have time to arrange travel.”

Look at me lie. Maybe I should have tried acting.

“I’m sure it will be lovely.” She replies with a wide smile. “I’d like to introduce you to a few people. Please come with me.”

You received a contract via e-mail later that evening. They were bringing you on for one film with the option of three additional films after production. Granted, that’s if you didn’t mess up. Joanna was right, this is the big leagues. If you could make it through the next three to four months, you’d have a long term contract with a major studio.

The next day you received the script. Winter’s Sin was the working title. Whether or not the title would stick was anyone’s guess. You had worked with a few well-known actors, but more of the B list variety. Wonderfully talented actors, but they just didn’t get the parts or the recognition they often deserved. This film had a couple of big names, Keanu Reeves and Chris Evans to be exact. Maggie Jessup was this year’s it girl and rumor had it, this movie was going to launch her into stardom. Generally, you didn’t get star struck, but this was Keanu Reeves! You first fell in love with him when you saw Speed. And again, when you watched The Lake House. Too bad you were technically “engaged”.

Pre-production was set to start next week. This week would be spent going over the script a few times and creating notes. Some wouldn’t consider it the fun part of the job, but you loved diving into a script before it was brought to life. It was also a bonus that you generally liked the script. It was sort of a weepy drama with a love story tied in. But the main plot was between two friends, Milo played by Keanu and William played by Chris. You stayed up half the night and made it almost all the way through. To say you were invested was an understatement.

You read through the script twice more over the next few days and felt ready. Next week you would meet with wardrobe and the writers. The cast would be fitted and you would take photos for your own personal files to make sure styles remain the same for the shoot. Of course, this could all change the day shooting begins which is why you needed to be on your A game and get all the drinking out of the way tonight. You’d have Sunday to recover before starting at the studio on Monday.

 Laurel Tavern wasn’t necessarily your favorite bar, but it had become the place to get a bite to eat and a few drinks. It was also the most centrally located place for you and your friends to meet. Joanna and her husband Ian picked you up on the way, knowing you wanted to drink to excess. The three of you along with Travis and Jemma were celebrating your new job tonight. The five of you often found reasons to celebrate whether it was finding a twenty dollar bill on the side of the road, not getting fired from a particular job you’ve been slacking at, for the record, that was Travis, or getting a full eight hours of sleep. Tonight, was really worth celebrating.

“What do you want girl?” Joanna asked, getting up from your usual booth. “First rounds on me. If you’re nice, I might even buy you a second.” She throws you a wink.

“Ummm. I’d like a margarita, hold the margarita.” You say in all seriousness.

“Tequila. Got it.”  She says before turning away and heading to the bar.

“Extra limes.” You shout.

She waves her hand behind her head, not bothering to spare your table a look.

Travis joins your booth, a couple of pints of beer in hand. “Here, I brought you one.” Setting a pint of golden goodness in front of you.

You lean over kissing his cheek. “I feel so special.” You coo.

Travis wormed his way into your life seven years ago. He was a senior in college at the time, tall and lanky with hair that stuck out from under his hat. He was filming his final project before graduation. The two of you had a mutual friend in common, Jemma, who was an ex-girlfriend of Travis, how they stayed friends, was beyond you. You helped with directing, a little bit of script management, and even filled in for makeup on a few days. Anything to help a friend of a friend. Travis became your pseudo little brother, well, a brother that you kissed once. You had just broken up with Chad, never date a guy name Chad. Anyway, you had just broken up with Chad and were feeling down in the dumps about yourself. He fed you some bullshit about never being there for him when he needed you. You got angry, he got angry, and then he told you that you weren’t hot enough for him. Yep, Chad was a douche. Travis invited you over, feed you pizza and a ton of beers, then you kissed. He wasn’t a bad kisser, but it felt weird. He was five years younger than you, but it wasn’t just that, he was too much like a brother. The two of you agreed that it was a mistake and never brought it up again. Not even Jemma knew.

The five of you munched on burgers and grilled cheese sandwiches. Jemma bought you a margarita, even after you told her you just wanted the tequila. Her motive was to mooch some of the beverage off of you.

“I don’t want all of the calories. I just want to try it.” She grins. Big rosy cheeks and wild blonde hair. Her British accent on full affect after already consuming a few shots herself. She had lived in the United States most of her life, but when she drank, the accent became heavier.

She grabs your drink, taking a hold of the straw and consumes half of it in one go. If you didn’t love her, you would have ditched her years ago.

Pushing Ian out of the booth, you get up on wobbly feet and make the long twenty foot journey to the bar. “I’ll get my tequila myself. Thank you very much.” You tell the table.

 It’s after midnight by the time you’re dropped off. Running a makeup remover cloth over your face and stripping down to a cami, you call it good enough and crawl into your cozy bed.

 After a pit stop at Starbucks, you make it to the studio an hour earlier than you need to be. After parking in Timbuctoo, you graciously accept the golf cart ride from security.

One of the admins directs you to a small office down a long hallway with similar offices. There’s a laptop computer, various pens and notepads on the desk. You unpack a small plant you picked up yesterday after you dragged your hungover self out of bed and to the grocery store for food. There was no window in your office which you figured; a little greenery would liven the place up, literally.

 An hour later, one of the producers, David, came by to introduce himself and walk you around the grounds and through the soundstage you’d be shooting on. Filming would take place on the soundstage for a little more than a month. Then everyone would move the whole operation to Vancouver. The movie was called Winter’s Sin after all and there wasn’t a whole lot of winter in Los Angeles.

Before stopping back in your office, David popped into the office across from yours. He knocked while walking in, apparently already comfortable with the occupant.

“Hey Monica. I want you to meet Y/N. She’s the assistant script supervisor I was telling you about.”

Assistant? What?

Monica got up from her chair to greet you. You plastered on a smile and stuck out your hand. She was around your age and seriously gorgeous. Beautiful thick brown hair with a touch of caramel highlights that hung just above her chest.  

“Hi, Y/N. I’m looking forward to working with you. Would love to hear some of your ideas.”

“Same.”

What could you say? You weren’t told that you were an assistant script supervisor, you thought you had the position. Apparently, it was a shared position.

“Y/N will be working primarily with Chris and Keanu.”

Whoa. Well, at least there’s that.

Monica scoffs. “Really?”

Your eyes automatically go to her left hand. No ring. Of course.

“Yes, really. You’ve got Maggie. I think she can really flourish under your direction. Not to mention you have Hector, Tim, Daisy and Joe.

After the awkward exchange, you traded cellphone numbers with her and made plans to meet after the first read through with the cast.

Walking across the way into the safety of your office, you figured you might as well ask.

“I wasn’t aware that I was being hired on as an assistant script supervisor.”

David ran a hand down his face. “Y/N, listen. This is your first big film; you need to walk before you can run. Alright? If this goes well, you’ll probably get hired on as the lead.”

“Okay.” You sighed out

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Meeting at three on the soundstage.”

“Got it.” You replied, plopping yourself down in the desk chair.

David peeks his head back into your office. “You’ve got some visitors.”

“Thanks.” You call out, standing back up and pulling your door open wider.

Your heart stopped. At least you were pretty sure it did. Keanu and Chris were both in front of you. Yes, you were there to film a movie, but this felt like a freaking movie. The two of them, side by side, grins on their faces. Keanu’s hand outstretched while Chris’ hands were snugly in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Y/N, pleasure to meet you. I’m Keanu.”

You accept his hand but your pretty much speechless. You may have muttered “hi” but you can’t be sure. Sensing your nervousness, he gives you a smile and releases your hand. He looks to Chris and they exchange a silent conversation. Chris steps forward offering you his hand and once again you can’t breathe.

Has he always been this attractive? Apparently, I haven’t watched enough Avengers movies.

His hair’s a bit longer than what you remember from the one or two movies you’ve seen. He’s also sporting a full beard. Definitely something he can pull off.

You mentally slap yourself and pull your hand from his after you realize you hadn’t said anything.

“Um. Sorry. Haven’t had enough caffeine today. It’s nice to meet you both. I look forward to working with you on this shoot.”

“Nice plant.” Keanu says, pointing at the fern taking up the front corner of your desk.

You giggle. Like actually let out a giggle and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are flushed.

You’re a professional. Get your shit together.

“Well, you know?” Shrugging your shoulders. “Need to green the space up a bit.’

Chris nods his head and offers a closed mouth smile.

“Well, we won’t take up all your time. Just wanted to say hello.”

“Hello.” You reply with a wave.

Why am I so awkward?!

They both chuckle and Chris waves back at you.

Tomorrow you wouldn’t be so starstruck. These are just two men that you work with. Who cares that they both seem nice and are dangerously attractive? You’re an “engaged” woman who is also a professional. You can do this.

Yeah. I can do this.

If you are crossed out, I can’t tag you.

Tag list: @southerngracela  @chrisevansforever  @chrisevansfanfic @zsuzstyina @peach-acid @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob@patzammit @heartislubbingdubbing @collinsstanharbour @twittytelly @thefandomzoneisdangerous @linki-locks11 @jennmurawski13

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfic #keanu reeves #actor fic #Chris Evans Fan Fiction #just a simple lie #Chris Evans x Reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n

[wlw-in-space]

You should make an oneshot or like explain how it was when Lena first took Little!Luthor in and how r met all the superfriends in the process. Would love to see like a backstory on how r and lena’s bond grew :). ( since you mentioned in the kidnapping fic that in the very beginning r wasn’t used to the touchy affection )

Lex.

Lex had never been involved in your life.

Before he had been sent to prison, you would see him occasionally on holidays when he came to visit Lilian but he would never pay you any attention because he simply just didn’t care enough.

He said he did, but you knew he didn’t.

-

Lena leaves for college.

You remembered the day Lena left to college.

Not very clearly, but you still remembered.

You were young, seven or eight probably.

Lena had been your best friend up until that point. She knew more about you than anyone and you loved her unconditionally.

She was the perfect big sister.

Lilian didn’t seem to like her very much, though, and you could never figure out why.

Either way, you begged Lilian to let you go to the airport with Lena to say goodbye.

Lilian didn’t want to deal with you being a pain for not letting you say goodbye at the airport, so she reluctantly agreed.

When it was time for Lena to leave, she crouched down to be eye level with you and pulled you in for a tight hug.

In return, you clung to her tightly, “I’ll miss you, Lee. Please come visit.” You said tearfully.

“I promise I’ll come visit, honey. Okay?” Lena released you and brushed away your tears, smiling sadly. “I love you, little one.” She kissed your cheek and stood, waving goodbye to Lilian and blowing you a kiss before she turned down a corner and you couldn’t see her anymore.

As soon as you and Lilian got back in the car, she scolded you for crying like a baby.

-

Growing up is lonely.

Since Lena was in college and Lex was doing god knows what, you pretty much grew up only being around Lilian.

She wasn’t a good mother, that was for sure.

If you thought she treated Lena badly, she treated you ten times worse.

She was fed up with you and she had never wanted another kid in the first place.

Lilian never failed to tell you that, to remind you of how annoying you could be, to scold you constantly, to tell you to grow up.

You did though. You matured extremely fast and something about that bothered you.

Your innocence had been stolen by your own corrupted family and your mother at its core.

-

Reuniting with Lena.

The longest you went without seeing Lena after she had left for college was a year and a half.

The reason for that was mainly because she and Lilian had been arguing and Lilian told her that if she bothered coming to visit for the holidays, there was no way she would see would let her see you anyways, so there was no use in coming.

You of course didn’t know that until one day Lena called you on the phone and explained in depth the reason why you wouldn’t be seeing her for a while.

You knew she was upset about it, that much was clear. You could hear it in her voice. That didn’t exactly stop you from feeling upset though.

It was ‘funny’ enough that the next time you did see Lena was when Lilian got arrested.

It was odd for her to see you again. You weren’t the little ray of sunshine and hug machine she’d once shared a home with.

Yeah, when she used to visit you would greet her with a big hug and be attached at the hip, but even when she did visit, you were lucky if she stayed four days at a time and that wasn’t very much anyway.

The only times you had gotten affection was from Lena visiting and spending a whole year and a half completely alone made you unused to people being close to you and getting affection from people.

You were excited to see her though, you’d missed her a lot, you just didn’t know how to express that as well as you used to.

Lena was at the manor in a short two hours once Lilian was in prison.

She’d expected that when she’d gotten there that you would be overjoyed to see her and you guys would have a sweet moment together but that wasn’t exactly what happened.

You smiled when you saw her and waved a little.

Lena rushed over to hug you but faltered a bit when you seemed reluctant to get up.

You noticed and felt badly, so you stood and hugged Lena, sighing softly as you felt her familiar arms hold you close to her, as if you could be taken from her at any second.

It didn’t take long for Lena to realize how you’d tensed up, and she took that as a sign to give you a bit of space.

—

Playing catch-up.

You guys caught up on each other’s lives quickly. There wasn’t really much to say about your own life, since you didn’t do much with Lilian breathing down your neck constantly and being a Luthor, you barely had any friends and had only dated like, three people (and all three of the relationships ended badly).

Since you were older now, Lena told you about how boarding school was for her, and it seems like she was having a much better time that you were or would ever have.

There were times when people would bother her about being a Luthor, but she still had friends and she dated and nothing really stopped her from living her life and being herself in school.

It was clear that Lena felt bad for you. She seemed to look worried while you talked about school and how the people there treated you.

At the same time, she couldn’t help but feel a little at fault, since she was the reason a bunch more attention is being drawn to the Luthors.

“Hey, uh, it’s not your fault,” You said suddenly after Lena had been quiet for a couple of minutes.

“Sorry?” Lena raised a brow, confused at the sudden conversation.

“It isn’t your fault that your experience with the Luthors was better than mine. I just wanted to remind you that, in case you forget or something,” You shrugged.

—

Rushing through high school.

After about a week of living in Lena’s penthouse, you were starting to get more used to being around her.

You weren’t going to school because for the last year, you’d been homeschooled due to all of the drama and conflicts with Lilian.

Since you literally had no friends, you spend your time studying, and sped through two and a half years of high school.

You went with Lena to L-Corp, she didn’t want to leave you alone yet, and while you were there you worked on finishing your last year of high school.

—

The first time you hugged Lena yourself.

It was hard to stop yourself from hugging Lena. You really wanted to.

Sometimes you just wanted to be held in someone’s arms and feel safe and protected.

When Lena got home from work you were sitting at your desk in your room with your history homework in front of you. You’d stayed home because you knew she had to go to the DEO for the majority of the day and you didn’t want to have to talk to anyone besides Lena yet.

You hadn’t managed to get any work done all day, which was unusual because you were usually productive.

Instead of working, you’d spent the day thinking of how much better of a mother Lilian could’ve been, if Lena had taken you with her to National City when she first moved, if Lex wasn’t insane and he’d been a good big brother, if your family was normal, how completely alone you had been for years.

When she came to your room to say hi, your eyes were wet but you weren’t crying.

You turned and looked at her standing in your doorway for a few seconds before getting up and walking over to her, stopping right in front of her.

Her expression softened and right before she opened her mouth, you threw your arms around her neck and pulled her as close to you as you could.

You felt her let out a breath as she wrapped her arms around your waist slowly, not wanting to startle you.

Lena almost found herself crying, so happy that you’d finally hugged her, but concerned nonetheless.

“Is everything okay?” She asked you, quietly as she rubbed your back gently.

“I don’t want to feel alone anymore,” Was all you had to say for her to hug you just a little tighter.

—

Working on your relationship.

After that, you and Lena became closer.

You started to bond more and both of you loved it.

The two of you established a movie night on Thursday night and after a bit of convincing, Lena was able to persuade you to agree to meet her friends.

That was in a week or two though.

Enchanted was the first movie you guys had decided to watch. Lena pulled it up on her tv while you made popcorn and poured it into a bowl.

The reason you guys had chosen it was because it seemed like the last thing either of you would really enjoy, but maybe that was the best part about it.

You sat down, setting the popcorn on the coffee table and grabbing a blanket from one of the baskets underneath the tv, throwing it to the couch beside Lena.

Lena chuckled as she put the remote on the arm rest and unfolded the blanket, patting the space next to her.

You smiled and flopped back on the couch, positioning yourself so you were leaning against Lena and her arm was around your shoulder comfortably.

You sighed contently, taking a handful of popcorn and eating it.

Throughout the movie, Lena was subconsciously rubbing your arm, which you noticed as soon as she started doing it.

It ended up being pretty good, in all honestly. You and Lena both thought it was really cute.

“The songs were really catchy,” You admitted as the credits started.

Lena nodded and chuckled, “Yeah, I have a feeling they’ll be stuck in my head.”

“Thanks for watching the movie with me,” You smiled and buried your face in her soft sweater.

“Of course,” Lena smiled and kissed the top of your head gently. “I love spending time with you.

—

You meet Kara and Alex for the first time.

You and Lena had agreed that it was better for you to meet one or two of her friends before you were thrown into a game night with a bunch of new people, that way you had at least two people to talk to other than Lena.

You guys had planned to meet for a mini girls night of some sort, with pizza and a movie at Kara’s apartment, which Lena told you was where most game nights were held.

As Lena knocked on the door, you stood slightly behind her, fiddling with the sleeve of your coat nervously. She turned around and looked at you, giving a reassuring smile and putting her arm around you.

A second or two later, the perky blonde Lena had shown you a picture of was at the door, bouncing on her heels, standing next to the redhead girl who was an inch or two shorter than her.

She smiled widely and pulled you into a tight hug, “It’s so nice to finally meet you, (y/n)! I’m Kara and this is my sister Alex.”

You laughed at Kara’s enthusiasm and returned her hug the best you could before she let go and grinned. Alex also greeted you with a hug, her more gentle and soft, but it felt protective at the same time.

“I didn’t know people could be so good at hugs,” You chuckled when the four of you had sat down on the carpet around the coffee table to eat the fresh pizza Alex bought. “I just thought Lena was the only good hugger.”

“Well, there’s a lot more where that came from,” Kara chuckled, taking a bite of her pizza.

Lena smiled at you, feeling a bit of pride. She was so happy that you were getting along well with Kara and Alex, even though you guys had just started talking.

You looked up at Lena and smiled back at her, scooting a little closer so she could wrap an arm around your waist with the hand she wasn’t using to eat.

The entire time you guys spent eating pizza, you were talking at the same time.

Kara straight up told you that she was Supergirl, not wanting to start with a secret, knowing how complicated it would make everything since Lena knew and she went to the DEO a lot.

Then Alex explained the DEO to you and told you how she was the director. She also mentioned that her girlfriend was a cop.

“That’s so badass,” You smiled, chuckling when you felt Lena nudge you after you curse.

“Languageee,” Lena teased with a raised brow.

“Oh, come on, Lee, as if you don’t have a worse potty mouth than I do,” You rolled your eyes and nudged her back.

Lena smiled at the nickname. You hadn’t realized that you said it, but she did. You hadn’t called her ‘Lee’ since you were little, and her heart swelled a bit when she heard the familiarity of the way you said it.

During the movie, you sat in between Lena and Alex. They’d decided on watching a horror movie, and since you hadn’t really seen one before, you figured that they couldn’t be that bad.

You were veryyyy wrong though. You hadn’t even caught the name of the movie because you refused to look at the screen.

About halfway through the movie, Alex told Kara to switch off the movie and put something else on because you had ended up sandwiched tightly between her and Lena, holding Lena’s arm around your waist tightly and burying your face into Alex’s hoodie.

You let out a sigh of relief when Kara flicked back to the menu of her tv, making Alex and Lena both laugh, and loosened your grip on Lena’s arm, “Sorry.”

“You’re all good,” Lena shook her head and pressed a comforting kiss to your temple before running her fingers through your hair gently. “Now we know, no more horror movies for you.”

You chuckled, “In all honesty, I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“Oooh, we should watch UP!” Kara grinned when it caught her eye as she was flipping through the movie menu.

Alex groaned, “Kara, we watched UP last month.”

“Yeah, but it’s so good! Have you seen it, (y/n)?”

“No,” You shook your head. “I’ve only seen like four movies.”

Kara and Alex’s jaws dropped simultaneously and Alex took the remote from her sister, quickly pressing play, “Okay, this might make me a hypocrite, but you need to watch this movie.”

You and Lena chuckled at Alex, and you looked up at her with a smile.

She smiled back at you as you leaned into her more, tucking your head underneath her chin.

Maybe National City was growing on you.

—

Your first time meeting Maggie.

Lena was on a business trip to Europe for a few days, and although she insisted that she wouldn’t mind if you went, you reassured her that you could stay in National City comfortably.

She eventually gave in, knowing that you disliked flying just as much as she did, but made you agree that you would stay in Alex’s apartment (after she asked Alex, of course).

You settled in quickly, it only took you Friday afternoon to get used to her homey apartment and you really enjoyed spending time with Alex anyways.

Alex woke you up on Saturday at 10, wanting to let you sleep in a bit, with breakfast ready.

“You are the best ever,” You grinned and raced over to the kitchen table, sitting in a chair.

Alex chuckled and sat beside you, “Anything for my favorite teenager. You’ve got a fruit bowl, pancakes, and French toast to eat, don’t let it get cold.”

Both of you dug into your breakfast before you washed it down with water, “What’re we doing today?”

“Maggie has the day off today so we could hang out with her if you’re okay with that,” Alex shrugged as you both carried the dishes to the sink and she started washing them.

“Ooh!” You grinned. “Maggie’s your girlfriend, right?”

Alex blushed and rolled her eyes before nodding, “Yes, she’s my girlfriend.”

“Awh,” You chuckled. “I’m totally fine with that, and I’d love to meet her.”

“Okay, perfect, I’ll call her now. Do you wanna change and get ready to head out while I call her?”

You nodded, “Yep!”

When you got out of the bathroom, Alex was sitting on the couch watching some random show called NCIS. You walked over and sat next to her, fiddling with one of the rings on your fingers as you watched the tv.

The moment a knock sounded on the door, Alex smiled and shot up from where she was sitting to go answer it.

You stifled a laugh at how fast Alex reacted and turned around to watch Alex open the door and kiss the shorter woman standing in the doorway.

After a few seconds of them literally making out in the doorway, you cleared your throat softly and Alex pulled away, blushing, “Sorry, (y/n/n).”

Maggie walked into the apartment and Alex closed the door behind her, so you got up to say hi.

Apparently it was like, a National City thing where everyone hugs everyone when they meet for the first time because Maggie hugged you too when you walked up to her, “Hey, kid. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Lena, Kara, and Alex.”

You chuckled, “All good things I hope.”

“Yeah, of course,” Maggie smiled.

After a little small talk, things started to get more comfortable and you were liking Maggie more by the second. She had this sarcastic way of joking that you found hilarious and on top of that, she was really really nice.

Soon, you guys decided to go ice skating in one of the nearby ice skating rinks.

You’d never actually ice skated before, so Maggie and Alex taught you.

You were a pretty fast learner and soon you were skating almost as well as they were. Of course, all of you had a few falls here and there (and they were all hilarious), but overall you guys were doing well.

When you guys had finished, you went for ice cream before returning back to Alex’s apartment.

—

Your first game night.

You and Lena were running a little late to game night.

It was your fault, since you’d changed what you were wearing three times before finally settling on a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, a white shirt, and a red hoodie.

Lena didn’t mind though, she knew you were nervous to meet the rest of her friends and you really wanted them to like you.

In a short 20 minutes, you were at Kara’s door, standing a little behind Lena, who looked behind her shoulder and pulled you up gently before putting her arm around your shoulder and knocking on the door.

From the outside of Kara’s apartment, you could hear Kara squealing, “They’re here!” and less than a second later, she was opening the door and pulling both of you into a group hug.

Lena went to go around and say hi to everyone, so Kara made it her responsibility to introduce you to everyone. First, you said hi to Alex and Maggie, before Kara introduced you to J’onn, the man who was talking to them.

He was really nice and you got the feeling that he was extremely wise, just from talking to him for a little bit.

Then she introduced you to James, who you’d seen a picture of before. He showed you some of the pictures he’d taken recently, which really intrigued you.

After that, Kara introduced you to Brainy and Nia. You thought they were like, the cutest couple ever. Just the way they looked at each other was adorable.

Finally, you were introduced to Winn, who you’d actually heard a lot about. You were excited to meet him because he seemed like a lot of fun and he totally was. His sense of humor was a bit unusual but funny nonetheless.

The night sped by quickly. You ate pizza, shared stories, and played games with everyone, and you never really felt like they didn’t want you there, or like you didn’t belong there.

Yeah, National City is pretty nice.

#supergirl #supergirl imagines #lena luthor #lena luthor imagines #lena luthor x little!luthor #lena is a great big sister #lena’s little sister #lena luthor x reader #katie mcgrath #kara danvers imagines #kara danvers x reader #kara danvers x little!luthor #kara danvers #melissa benoist #alex danvers #alex danvers x little!luthor #alex danvers imagines #alex danvers x reader #chyler leigh #maggie sawyer #maggie sawyer x reader #maggie sawyer imagine #maggie sawyer x little!luthor #j’onn j’onzz #james olsen #winn schott #braniac 5 #nia nal #little!luthor #little luthor reader

[emybain]

Makeup

the other day I read over some supernova scenes that made me upset and want to write some younger nova with the anarchists for whatever reason. so, I wrote a little fic with honey and nova when nova’s 12 (and too nice for her own good like cmon the anarchists shouldve see her “weaknesses” before she went undercover as a renegade)

Masterpost of all my Renegades fics

    After nearly six years of living with the Anarchists, Nova had learned that Honey Harper was best left alone when she went into a crying meltdown. The first time she had heard the painful sobs coming from the older woman’s train car, Nova had been eight and concerned. Ingrid and Leroy advised against Nova going to comfort the distressed Anarchist, as it was normal for her. At least, normal since the Age of Anarchy came to an abrupt end and Ace was forced into hiding. 

    Tonight, however, Nova was recovering from a high fever that almost had Leroy taking her to the hospital out of desperation, as none of his concoctions or drug store medicine was helping. It was a last resort, as no one knew of Nova’s existence among the Anarchists, and a simple DNA testing could have her removed from her only family and placed in a foster home. Thankfully, as if by some miracle, she pulled through and was now resting and regaining her strength, something that would be easier if not for the pitiful wails coming from the other side of the subway tunnels. 

    Everyone else was asleep, so not even Ingrid could go and shut Honey up. Nova had a piercing headache and a sore throat that made talking like poking knives into her neck and chest, and was not really in the mood to hear the sound all night. That, mixed with her own body racking coughs, were enough to send Nova over the edge. 

    Sighing heavily, the movement ending in a pathetic wheeze she could feel squeezing her lungs, Nova snapped her copy of one of Ace’s books shut and set it beside her cot. She would have to return to her pre-Age of Anarchy literature later. For a moment, she debated making some tea to take with her just in case Honey ended up sending her away and she would need a legitimate reason for being there. But she decided against it, not in the mood for the cheap, bitter tea Leroy got from the nearest convenience store. 

    It was cold in the tunnels, being early November, the prime season for illness, so Nova grabbed the blanket off of her cot and wrapped it around her shoulders. After a second thought, she also grabbed Dolly Bear, who was sitting beside her bed. The bear was as old as Nova, and after almost twelve years of wear and tear, it’s age was beginning to show. Nova made an effort to take care of it, since it was one of her only remaining physical memories of her family, but she couldn’t always stitch up age. 

    Upon reaching Honey Harper’s door, the crying now obnoxiously loud, Nova raised a hand and knocked. Briefly, the sobs paused so Honey could allow Nova entrance into her train car. As always, Honey was at her mirror surrounded by wasps and bees of all kinds. Before her sat a collection of beauty products, some looking older than others as if they meant more than what could be seen by the eye. 

    Honey sniffled. “Oh! Nova, darling, I wasn’t expecting you. Usually it’s Ingrid who comes to my door this late at night.” She touched her curls softly with her hands, attempting to fix her messed up hairdo. 

    Nova almost retorted that she was only there to deliver the same message Ingrid would’ve eventually given, to shut up, but the words died before she could even open her mouth at the tear and mascara streaks running down Honey’s face. The empty, haunting, glassy eyes. 

    She lifted the corners of her lips up slightly and shrugged. “I just thought you might want some company?”

    Honey’s face relaxed at that, and while she didn’t smile, she pointed to a small ottaman beside her cot. “Pull that over here next to me.” Nova did as she was told, sitting and curling her knobby knees up underneath of her on the cushion. A bumble bee landed lazily on Nova’s finger, and she gently shooed it away. 

    “How’s that fever of yours been? Staying down, I hope.” Honey grabbed a tissue on her vanity and dabbed at her eyes, not doing the best job at removing her runny makeup. 

    Nova nodded, hugging her bear closer to her chest. “I’m not sick anymore, just coughing and a headache. But they’re not a big deal,” she tacked on quickly, not wanting Honey thinking that she was weak. “The fever wasn’t even that bad.”

    Honey raised an eyebrow. “Really? Last I checked, a fever of one hundred and four is not something many would classify as nothing. You’re lucky to be getting better without needing medical attention, Nova.”

    “I guess.” Nova’s fingers became distracted with a hole near Dolly Bear’s eye. “At least now I can resume my training with Ingrid.” 

    Honey turned from her to face her mirror again, checking her appearance carefully. “Is that all you care about, darling? There is more to life than fighting and weapons and blood.” A shudder ran through her body. “Not that I’m saying it’s not important. I’ve had my fair share of violence.” Her manicured hand drifted over to a mean looking wasp sitting upon a makeup compact, stroking it’s back gently with one finger. Nova averted her gaze; she had never been victim to one of Honey’s bees or wasps, but she had heard stories of how terrible they were, more painful and dangerous than a normal bee sting. She could only imagine how many had fallen to Honey’s pets. 

    “I will not rest until the Renegades pay for what happened to my family. Whatever the cost.” Nova wondered how convincing her words sounded, considering she was sitting cross legged on top of a cushion with a torn up stuffed bear clutched between her fingers, looking bony and sickly from her fever. Probably not very.

    Honey studied Nova, and Nova’s cheeks reddened at her intense stare. It wasn’t often Queen Bee paid so much attention to anyone other than herself. “How old are you again, child? Nine? Ten?”

    Her fingers tightened around the bear. “I’ll be thirteen in May.” 

    Honey hummed in her throat, then reached forward and grabbed a bottle from a pile of other bottles on her vanity. “I was eleven when my mother first let me put makeup on. Not much, just some eyeshadow, blush, and lipstick. Have you ever worn makeup before?” Nova shook her head. Her personal belongings consisted of what little she had from her life before the Anarchists and what she needed for her inventions and for survival. She would never waste money on something as self centered as makeup. Besides, she had never understood the point of makeup, or why people even liked it. 

    “Well, a girl’s go-to best friend is eyeliner.” Honey rolled the bottle in her palm. “Face me. I’ll put a little on you.” Nova watched as she unscrewed the top and pulled out a wand. Honey leaned toward Nova with the device poised between her clawed fingers; Nova shrank back on instinct. Honey rolled her eyes. “Sweetheart, it doesn’t hurt, I promise.” 

    Nova would rather not have Honey’s hands so close to her eyes, but if it kept the woman distracted and from crying, well. Nova held back a sigh and turned toward Honey, tilting her head up. 

    “Close your eyes.” She did as she was told, and nearly flinched when the cool, wet end of the wand pressed against her inner eyelid. Honey placed her other hand on Nova’s chin to hold her still. Makeup felt weird. Nova was surprised how heavy the eyeliner felt on her eyelids when she opened her eyes up after Honey was finished, blinking rapidly. 

    She turned her head to look in the mirror, squinting to get a better look. It wasn’t often she saw her reflection, much less saw it willingly. It was nothing fancy, just a simple wing on either lid, standing out against Nova’s plain complexion. 

    “What do you think?” Honey clasped her hands together, waiting for Nova to show any reaction. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she liked it. Maybe one day she would, but that day was not today. However, due to Honey’s fragile mental state, she couldn’t just say that. 

    Nova plastered a smile on her face. “It’s different.”

    A sigh escaped the older woman’s honey-coated lips, appeased. “You’re turning into quite the pretty young lady, Nova. Almost as pretty as I was. It doesn’t surprise me, you’re parents were very attractive people, especially that handsome father of yours. I suppose it’s the Artino blood, huh? In just a few years, all the boys will be chasing after you. The ladies, too,” she added, laughing lightly. “Do you want to try now? I can teach you all the secrets to the perfect wing.” 

The mention of Nova’s parents flipped her stomach. Honey’s compliments on her looks turned her mouth sour, as she had never found herself attractive or anywhere near looking like her parents. Her face was plain, her long hair limp, and she didn’t have curves like Honey did; her body resembled a stick figure. She would rather not be in Honey’s car anymore, but glancing at the now dried tears and runny makeup left behind from Honey’s breakdown on her cheeks and her still red eyes, Nova forced herself to nod. 

She only somewhat paid attention to Honey as she dove into a lecture about the importance of a sharp wing.

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #Adrian everhart #nova artino #honey harper #nodrian #danna bell #ruby tucker #Oscar silva #anarchists #my writing

[mistymark]

the one with all the ajax.

na jaemin x reader // 4.5k words // masterlist // send requests here

summary; in which y/n needs to clean her apartment and she finds a lot more than cleaning products in the apartment above her own

warnings: none its just fluff, they swear like twice

requested; no but u all requested jaemin so here's some jaemin !!

notes; this is a recreation of a Jimin fic I wrote,, so dont freak out if u recognise it,, I didn't steal it

“Yes, Mom, I know,” you spun in your chair mindlessly as you listened to your mother over the phone, the face of Ryan Reynolds frozen rather unattractively on your TV screen and your current course assignment staring blankly at you from your laptop. “Yes, of course I remembered! You wrote it on my calendar the last time you visited! Okay, Mom, I’ll see you tomorrow… tell Dad I said hi, okay? Okay, okay, yes, okay, uhuh, I know, okay, bye! I love you!”

Hanging up, you groaned, tossing your phone to the empty couch and glancing at your apartment. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes, the oven and stove looked as if they had been set on fire at least twice, the couch was littered in crumbs of food you’d ordered from takeout stores, and their wrappers, boxes and containers lay empty on the coffee table. Movies and video games were sprawled across the floor, your desk was buried in paper, and your bedroom floor was barely visible beneath the catastrophe that was your current wardrobe and the boxes you hadn’t bothered to unpack since your parents had last visited you. Generally, you considered yourself a rather clean and tidy person, but in the past few weeks leading up to exams and your assignments, you may have prioritized other things over your apartment’s cleanliness.

You glanced at the clock, calculating how much time you had to get your place in order before your parents visited. You had just under 22 hours, but subtracting time to sleep, eat, your afternoon class and your evening work shift… you had about two hours. You clapped your hands together, walking to your kitchen sink and opening the cupboard doors underneath it, planning on using all your cleaning supplies to make the job as easy as possible.

As you bent down and peered under the sink, you groaned in annoyance at the meagre remains of your cleaning supplies; a few tile wipes and a mostly empty bottle of dish soap, which, when you tipped it up, seemed solidly attached to the base of the bottle.

You grabbed your phone from the couch, praying your best friend loved you enough to help you in this time of distress, and dialled his number. After three rings and Yangyang’s voice letting out a cheery “leave me a message!”, you sighed and put your phone back down. It was at times like these that you wished you lived in one of the college’s normal dormitories, rather than a random apartment block two streets away; your neighbours were mostly disapproving elderly women or drunk, potbellied men in their 30s who would flirt with you in the elevator.

You grabbed your keys in preparation to make a quick dash to the store, before realising that there was one other option. The two boys who lived above you, from whom you had the honour of receiving brief smiles and polite ‘hello’s on the way to and from your apartment, sounded like they were home. Taking the stairs two at a time, you knocked eagerly on the door of the apartment above your own, smiling at the little fish-eyed hole in the door. You prayed your innocent, smiling figure would be taken pity on.

“It’s probably the pizza!” A muffled voice could be heard through the door, and you weren’t sure if it was from the thick door or from food being stuffed into the boy’s mouth that made it so difficult to understand.

The door opened abruptly, and a boy around your age blinked at you in surprise, before a lazy smile stretched across his face at the sight of you.

“Um, hi, I’m Y/n,” you hastily stated, waving awkwardly, “We haven’t officially met. I live in the apartment below you and I was wondering if I could borrow some cleaning supplies? It’s kind of an emergency.”

“Jaems! Who is it?” A deep voice called from within the apartment, and you recognised it as the boy who had yelled about the pizza delivery beforehand.

The boy in front of you – Jaems – raised his eyebrows in surprise, but nodded as he stepped aside slightly. “Yeah, um, okay,” he quickly turned to face his apartment, gesturing to the inside, where two other boys were situated on the couch in front of the TV. “I’m, uh, Jaemin. Come in, come in. This is Jeno and Donghyuck; Jeno’s my roommate and Donghyuck doesn’t actually live here, but he’s the one that makes the most noise.”

“Hey!” One of the boys on the couch, presumably Donghyuck, threw a potato chip at Jaemin, and you could hear Jeno scolding him as you shifted your attention back to the boy in front of you.

Jaemin walked towards the kitchen and you followed, noticing, rather abruptly, that the apartment you were standing in was pretty much exactly like your own. The layout was the same, and though the decorations and the furniture were different to yours, they were arranged very similarly. The boys on the couch, Jeno and Donghyuck, were so focussed on their game that they didn’t even look at you, shouting to Jaemin to bring them more snacks.

“So… if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the emergency that requires all these cleaning supplies?” Jaemin opens a cupboard in the kitchen, revealing a much more sensible-looking collection of spray bottles, wipes, paper towels and bottles. Jaemin gestures to them dismissively, in a take-whatever-you-need way.

You smile gratefully at him as you squat down and begin to rummage through the collection. “Well,” you speak into the cupboard as he leans against the kitchen counter casually, “my parents are coming to visit me tomorrow morning, and, um, I guess you could say my apartment doesn’t exactly entice guests at the moment.” You look over your shoulder at him, and you can see that he has a very amused smirk on his face, and the way he looks at you suddenly makes you feel as though you’ve been friends for a while, or at least properly met before.

“I’ve seen you around,” he states, as if he’s just been able to place you. “Mail room and stuff.”

“You were at the New Year’s Eve Party next door, right?” You ask, remembering seeing him on the roof of the building next door, where the residents threw parties on the roof at every opportunity. You were almost certain he was there.

He laughed, “Oh yeah! Didn’t someone try to jump into the pool?”

“Nah, they got him down in the end. He was way too drunk to think straight.” You look back at him briefly, and you notice the way his eyebrows are furrowed slightly in thought.

Satisfied, you stand up, your arms filled with the equipment you’re positive you’ll need and smile at him thankfully, “Again, thank you so much for this, I feel like our first proper meeting should have been a little bit more traditional and I promise I don’t normally ask strangers for favours.” You laugh and you’re glad he does, too, before he raises an eyebrow at the number of things you’re holding.

“Okay, I have to see how messy your apartment is for you to need two – wait, no, three bottles of Ajax,” he snorts, counting out loud the number of other things you have in your arms.

Without realising he’s teasing you, you reassure him, “I promise I’ll replace everything in a few days, I just really needed these before tomorrow and I didn’t want to waste time running - literally running, I don’t have a car - to the store.”

He waves his hand at you, smiling good-naturedly. His smile felt reassuring and you felt yourself smiling back, “No, no, don’t worry about it. The only payment I require is seeing this apartment.” He pushes past you into the hallway, outstretching his arm to hold the door open for you.

As you both trot down the stairs, you nudge him with your elbow, “So, why do you have so many cleaning supplies, anyway? Who’s the neat freak?”

Instantly, his smile drops slightly and you realise your mistake. Hurriedly, you try to cover yourself, “I just mean, who’s the one that clea-”

His laugh cuts you off and you realise he was only teasing you, “You should’ve seen your face, oh, God,” he continues to laugh. “No, one of the counsellors, like those ‘big-brother’ students at our college - do you have one? - his name is Taeyong, he’s a real… neat freak, as you put it.” He glances at you from the corner of his eye to watch as you make yourself smaller, blushing, ashamed. The tiniest of smiles crosses his face as he shoves his hands into his pockets and continues, “Anyway, after our first year was over, and the program ended, he made us buy like ten bottles of everything so we wouldn’t run out and just never buy them again.”

You laughed, “Aw, that’s sweet.” As you arrived at your doorstep, you turned on him, lowering your voice in what you hoped to be a morbidly warning voice, “Okay, I’m warning you, what you’re about to see will most likely disturb you. Enter at your own risk.” You unlocked the door and walked into your apartment, dumping your weapons on the table and turning around slowly, attempting to figure out the most strategic attack.

You heard Jaemin gasp in shock and then begin to laugh so hard that he fell to the floor, “Y-you said that it was r-really bad but I,” he laughed between most of his words and what he said came out in gasps, “I didn’t think it would be this bad! Y/n, you’re really screwed.” He walked to the kitchen and picked up a half-eaten apple and what looked to be a hairy potato on a paper plate, “Forget cleaning supplies, you need a dump truck, holy shit.”

You pouted at him, “Hey, I have over an hour to make this place spotless! I’ll be fine!” You began to put on a pair of rubber gloves you had taken from Jaemin’s apartment and remove all the filthy dishes from the sink to fill it with hot water. “I really do appreciate you letting me borrow all this, and I promise to return and replace everything.”

You heard rubber gloves snapping behind you and you turned around to see Jaemin pulling another pair on, grabbing the dishwasher fluid and tossing it to you. “There is no way that you are going to be able to clean this mess in an hour, so I’m going to help you. But, I need to arm myself first.” You let out a laugh as he grabbed an apron from beside your fridge that read ‘kiss the cook’ in pink stitching, tugging the rubber gloves further down his hands and placing a mask over his nose and mouth, before quickly ditching the latter.

“Do you want a shower cap, too?” You teased, pointing a clean knife at him from your spot by the sink.

“Do you have one?” He answered, his eyes wide in mock hope, pausing what he was doing: trying to get the apron’s straps to loosen around his neck, before tying it behind his slim waist. With his waist accentuated, you couldn’t help but notice the perfect shape of his body, that you had gone unnoticed as it was hidden by the white t-shirt he was wearing.

In response, you stuck your tongue out at him in an all-too-mature way, before straightening, “Seriously, you don’t have to do this. I mean, we did just meet like… ten minutes ago.”

He shrugged as he pulled out a bin bag from your haul on the counter, “What better way to get to know the cute next door neighbour?” You stopped washing for a moment and you were glad that you weren’t facing him, for you were fairly sure the blush on your cheeks was rather obvious. Besides, he could be talking about you getting to know him, not the other way round.

He began to walk around your apartment, firstly binning your apple, furry potato and plate, then the takeout boxes, and the leftover banana peel on your desk. He hung the bag off a chair for future use and then appeared beside you again, mindlessly tapping on the counter as he spoke, “So what’re your parents like?”

As you continued to clean, he grabbed a rag from somewhere in the kitchen and began drying your dishes. “Well, you know, they’re parents,” you shrugged, “I guess we’ve always been kind of close, I miss them like crazy now that I’ve moved out, even if I hated living with them. They’re kind of strict, real neat freaks,” you glanced sideways at him and caught the left side of his mouth hitching up in a smile, “but, I mean, they’re my parents and I love them. They worry about me sometimes,” you gestured around the room, “but I guess it’s warranted.”

You laughed with him, and he looked at you quickly before focusing back down on the plate, asking about what you were studying and the conversation quickly drifting to your hobbies, places you’d visited, things you still wanted to do… Conversation with Jaemin was easy and simple, and you hoped this wasn’t going to be the last time you saw him.

You passed him a bowl and turned to him, grinning, as you allowed the dirty water to run from the sink down the drain, having finally finished the dishes, “We should put on music. Make this a little more fun, you know?”

He pouted jokingly as he dried the bowl, “You’re not having fun?”

You laughed as you hit his chest lightly and walked over to the small speaker buried under piles of paper and bills on the small side table by your front door, and then dancing over to Jaemin in the kitchen. He laughed at your dorky dance moves, throwing his head back as he put the bowl down and joined you, swivelling his hips and squatting awkwardly as he danced.

You continued dancing as you finished the job; he danced as he wiped down your counter, you danced as you put the freshly dried dishes away, he danced as he vacuumed your couch of all the crumbs, and you danced as you put all the movies away underneath the TV. You learned he was actually a really good dancer, and it made you feel a little bit more nervous and self-conscious, until he started to bust out his own choreography, making you laugh until your insides hurt.

You made him take a break and offered him a drink, telling him to help himself to anything in the fridge as you quickly tidied your bathroom.

“Oh my God, Y/n!”

You quickly rushed into the main room and found Jaemin staring into your fridge, “What? What is it?”

He turned to face you, a look of amused bewilderment on his face, “You have nothing in your fridge but mustard, pickles and coconut water! How are you even alive right now?” His eyes were wide as he looked at you teasingly.

You rolled your eyes and retreated back into the bathroom to wipe down the now almost empty counter, making a comment about how you were doing perfectly fine surviving off of ramen and takeout, before Jaemin appeared in the doorway, “Seriously, though, if your parents see that, they’re really going to worry about you. Come on, we’ve got half an hour left, we’ll go to the supermarket, get a bunch of food to stock your fridge and then you can go to class.”

You sighed as you looked around at your bathroom, “I still have to wipe down all the windows and the shower, and my room is still a bit of a mess…”

He looked around, “If we’re quick, we’ll have enough time to wipe everything down. Your room… you can probably get away with that if everything else is tidy. I mean, your parents wont be going in there anyway, right? Come on.” He held out his hand and smiled as you pulled off your gloves to grab it.

He tugged your arm, attempting to pull you out of the bathroom, but he miscalculated where exactly the wall was and ended up slamming his back into the wall and pulling you into him, causing you to stumble and crash against him. You felt blood rush to your cheeks as you looked at his shocked face; his eyes were wide in surprise but you didn’t miss the small smile he had tugging at the left side of his mouth.

You couldn’t move as he held your gaze, and you watched as his eyes briefly glanced down to your lips before he turned his head to the sink mirror, “Um, should we get going?”

You felt your free hand clench into a fist in an invisible cringe and you looked down, noticing how close your bodies were, “Y-yeah, we probably should.”

You stepped back and went to grab your keys and purse, purposely keeping your back to him. You scolded yourself for even thinking about kissing him. Despite his attractiveness, intelligence, kindness and humour, you couldn’t let yourself get involved with someone you had just met, though it felt like you’d grown quite fond of each other in the past two hours.

He walked by your side to the store a few streets away and grabbed a trolley, guiding you to the fruits and vegetables section. You groaned and followed him. As he was picking from the apples, he glanced upwards to look at you, standing on the other side of the fruit boxes, puffing your cheeks out in boredom. He quickly returned his gaze to the fruit, his face a darker shade of pink, his ears burning a bright red.

You began walking around the vegetables section, before noticing the cookies in the aisle beside them. I mean, who was going to pass up the opportunity to buy cookies? Certainly not you.

From between the shelves, you had a perfect view of Jaemin, and for the first time since you’d been introduced, you allowed yourself to stare. Am I being really creepy right now?you thought, holding a box of Oreos. It’s warranted, you assured yourself. I mean, look at him.You watched him look up from the next box of fruit, pears, and a look of surprise crossed his face as he realised you weren’t standing across from him.

He turned around, scanning the area for you, before placing the pears into the trolley, and then pushing it towards your aisle. You quickly ducked and walked speedily to the other end of the aisle, laughing to yourself as you childishly ran from him.

Jaemin immediately recognised your coat disappearing behind the corner of the shelves, and a grin instantly broke out on his face as he ran down the aisle, pushing himself up and over the trolley in pursuit, gliding easily down the aisle. You thought he hadn’t seen you, and you stood at the end of the aisle, carefully leaning forward to peer into the fresh produce section, assuming he’d come from that direction. You jumped in surprise as a trolley rolled up to you, “Hey, stranger, you need help looking for something?”

You turned around, a smile covering your face shyly and you briefly recognised how attractive he looked at that moment, an eyebrow lifted in playful challenge and a beautiful smirk, his eyes slightly creasing at the corners and the black jacket he’d grabbed from his apartment before you’d left. You weren’t going to lie, that jacket was a very nice jacket; it made his shoulders look broad and accentuated his slightly thinner-than-expected waist.

You shrugged playfully, “I don’t know, where do they keep all the… what’re they called? Oh, that’s right, notfruitandvegetables?”

He laughed, his head dropping down in mock disappointment as he walked down the aisle with you, dismissing all the things your parents were more likely to disapprove of, or just any parents really. “Really, Y/n, I don’t think they’d be ecstatic over seven boxes of Oreos.”

“BUT THEY’RE ALL DIFFERENT FLAVOURS,” you protested, before mumbling, “and besides, shouldn’t I at least be buying food I can actually eat?”

He cracked a grin at that, throwing an arm around your shoulders as you took over the trolley, “Aw, poor Y/n, can’t buy all the flavours.” He pouted at you and he poked your cheek with a grin. “But…” he began, “I’m sure one box couldnt hurt, right?”

The next day you were bombarded with your parents an hour earlier than expected, but luckily you were only making a few final adjustments to the cleanliness of your bedroom when they arrived.

You spent the day with your parents, showcasing your apartment, assuring them you were eating and washing When you left for lunch, you realised you forgot to bring your father’s birthday gift with you, and quickly ducked back upstairs to retrieve it. On your way down the stairs, rushing to catch up with your parents, you passed Jaemin and Jeno on their way up, bags of groceries in their arms, determination on their faces as they tried to carry all their groceries at once in order to not waste another trip up and down the multiple flights of stairs.

Jaemin winked at you as you passed, and you managed to catch up to your parents quickly. “I didn’t know there were other students living in your building, Y/n,” you mother commented, sliding her sunglasses up her nose as you stepped onto the sidewalk.

“They’re new,” you stated. “They’ve only been here for a couple of months, I think.”

“The tall one is pretty cute,” she nudged you with her elbow, teasing you.

“Sure, Mom. Jeno is ‘pretty cute’,” you rolled your eyes at her, sliding into the Uber you’d ordered.

She looked surprised at your tone, “What? You don’t agree.” She hesitated, before a wry smile made its way onto her face, “Ah, I see. You like the other one. What’s his name?”

“Jaemin,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling like you were twelve years old and not an adult, currently living away from home.

You waved to your parents from the door to your apartment block as they got in the taxi. You crossed your arms in front of yourself and watched as the car disappeared behind a corner.

After checking you had your wallet in your pocket, you made your way to the supermarket, a small smile on your face as you remembered walking the same way just the day before, but with Jaemin. Quickly grabbing a few products you remember having stolen and used from the boys’ apartment, you paid and made your way back home.

You ran up the stairs to your apartment, stopping briefly at your apartment to return your purse and wallet, before turning back to the staircase and moving to the floor above, grocery bag filled with cleaning supplies. You knocked on the door quietly, wondering if he even expected you to repay him for his things.

You prepared yourself, feeling your heart beating heavily against your chest, and heard the identifiable click of the lock on the door sliding out from its cradle on the doorframe. The door opened about halfway and you tried not to let your breath escape defeatedly. Jeno stood in the doorway, smiling in welcome.

“Hey, Y/n,” he greeted happily, controller in hand. “Jaemin’s in his room.” He nodded his head in the direction of the younger boy’s bedroom and opened the door a little wider to allow you in. He went back to the couch in the living room, where Donghyuck and another boy sat, patiently waiting for Jeno’s return with their controllers, whatever game they had been playing was paused. Donghyuck raised his hand in greeting and the other boy shot you a smile as you passed. “Thanks for those, by the way,” Jeno jutted his chin out at the bag of cleaning supplies that you haphazardly placed on the kitchen counter as he sat down on the couch again, reaching for the remote on the table in front of him.

You nodded at them and walked to Jaemin’s room, the only door that was closed in the tiny hallway. You knocked, sucking in a breath.

“Yeah, I know, I’ll be out in a sec! Just start without me,” Jaemin called from behind the door.

You coughed awkwardly, “Um, no, it’s, uh, me. Y/n.” In your mind, you were facepalming yourself, but part of you began to panic because what the fuck were you going to say to him? Why didn’t you just dump the products and leave? Or send a note? Why were you showing up at his bedroom door?

The door opened abruptly and you stood face-to-chest with Jaemin. Your eyes widened as you were met with his bare chest and you quickly shifted your gaze up to look at his face, which proved to be a feat a lot more difficult than it sounds.

“Hey,” he breathed, his arm still holding the door open. He stared at you and it was if he could see inside you, scrutinising every little part of your face, reading your mind.

You rocked back and forth on your heels, your smile rather awkward, “Hi.” You watched in slight awe as the corners of his mouth lifted up. A mere reaction that had your heart thrumming loudly against your ribcage.

“Um-,” you were immediately cut off as his head ducked down to kiss you, his lips pressing against yours suddenly. His hands found their to your sides as your arms lifted up to rest on his shoulders. You prayed he couldn’t hear your heart hammering in your chest as you smiled into the kiss.

When he pulled back, you didn’t take your arms away from around his neck, but he didn’t seem to mind, grinning back at you and then dropping his head to laugh to himself. For a moment, you were worried that this had all been some kind of joke and you felt your stomach drop in shame and embarrassment. You began to retract your arms, but his hands caught yours and placed them back on his shoulders, smiling at you widely, “I’ve wanted to do that since New Year’s.”

You cocked your head in confusion, so he cleared his throat, clarifying, “We bumped into each other on the roof, right when the countdown had just begun, and we’d been talking for a bit, so I kind of wanted to kiss you.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah. But you were a little drunk, so obviously I-“

“No,” you grabbed his hand in yours, trying to get his attention and make him look at you. “Were you really going to kiss me? I think you should prove it.” You cocked an eyebrow at him challengingly.

“Oh, really?” He teased, pulling his head back a bit to look at you fully. You noticed him look over your head at something behind you, before rolling his eyes, grabbing your hand and tugging you into his room, shutting the door behind you.

#na jaemin #nct jaemin #nana #na jaems #na jaemin x reader #boyfriend!jaemin #nct dream #nct #Nct Dream jaemin #Nct Dream fluff #Nct Dream blurbs #Nct Dream humour #Nct Dream headcanons #Nct Dream masterlist #Nct Dream fic #nct fluff #nct fic #nct blurbs #nct humour #nct crack #jaemin fluff #jaemin x reader #jaemin crack #jaemin fic

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Anywhere You Go

Characters: A. J. Cook x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 1,486

Warnings: fluff

Summary: A.J. offers you a proposition that you can’t refuse.

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

This is the December 5th fic for my 25 days of RPF Christmas with the prompt: “I don’t want to just see you once a year”

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

“Two hot chocolates for Y/N,” the barista announces. You get up from your seat and walk over to her to accept the drinks. After giving her a smile, you walk back over to your table and take a seat. Any minute now, your best friend A.J. Cook is going to walk through the double glass doors. It’s been about a year since you last saw her, and you’re so excited to see her now.

Every year, she makes it her priority to visit her family for the holidays. Christmas is the only holiday she won’t miss with them because it’s too big of a holiday to miss. Luckily for you, your family is such great friends with hers, which means you can also see her and spend time with her. When she’s not with family, she’s all around the world filming for either Criminal Minds, a new unnamed film she’s starring in, and doing interviews for those things.

You couldn’t be more proud of her, but you really miss her. Sure, you two talk on the phone at least six times a week, and you Facetime, but it’s not the same as actually being there. You two grew up side by side your entire life, so when her career started to kick off, everything changed. You’re not susceptible to change since it scares the shit out of you, and her moving away almost took the life out of you. You two did everything together and going from that to now, it’s been really hard for you. Of course, you never told her any of this because you didn’t want her to feel guilty for living her life and doing what she loves.

You always knew she would make it in show business because she couldn’t stop performing growing up. When you turned ten, she was the entertainment that provided a one-woman show she created on her own. Everyone absolutely loved her, and even though it took the attention off of you, you were so happy for her.

When you two were sophomores in high school, you came down with the nasty flu that stayed with you for weeks. A.J. didn’t like going to school without you, so she faked an illness just to stay home with you. You thought it was never going to work, but she convinced her parents with her phenomenal acting skills that she was truly sick. It was when your parents caught her bringing food up to you that they called her parents and told them what was going on.

In senior year, she landed the lead in the school’s production of Alice in Wonderland. She stole the show with her big smile, bright blue eyes, and innocent front that she showcased. Everyone loved her, and it was the production that set her career off. An agent was in the audience and watched her perform, giving her his card. The first semester of college without her was hard since she was busy doing auditions and filming commercials to add stuff to her resume.

Every time a new movie or show of hers came out, she’d invite you to the premiere, but she would be so busy with interviewers and her costars, that you kind of hung in the back. You’re so proud of her, but you wish she would take a step back and realize how much this is affecting you. Maybe you can convince her to take some time off if you tell her all the things she’s missed since you last saw her.

The door to the cafe rings and your best friend walks in. She looks around for you, and as soon as you two make eye contact, you’re both squealing and hugging each other tightly.

“I missed you so much!” she grins.

“I miss you more,” you chuckle and offer her the seat across from you. “I got you a hot chocolate.”

“With a dash of mint in there?”

“Do I ever forget?” you smile.

“How have you been? It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” she says and takes a sip of her drink.

“Too long, actually. Well, Garrett broke his arm and will be in a cast for the next few months.”

“What did your brother do this time,” she rolls her eyes playfully.

“He jumped off the roof and did a backflip into the pool. He didn't hurt his head or anything like that, just broke his arm. I swear, that boy gets dumber with age,” you laugh.

“At my work’s Halloween party, someone almost caught the snack table on fire. I keep telling them that having the pumpkins with candles inside next to the table is a bad idea, and now hopefully they’ll listen. Everyone started freaking out, and we had two guys dressed up as Spongebob and Patrick running around and freaking everybody out. I swear I don’t think I laughed as much as I did then.

“Oh, and your sister was just about to give birth in the backseat of your mom’s car on the way to the hospital.”

“What? No one told me that,” she says in disappointment.

“Yeah, your nephew wanted to come out right there and then, and we had to try and help her hold him in long enough. He basically popped out with the first push. It was gross, but he’s so cute,” you coo.

“I missed a lot of stuff,” she sighs.

“More things happened, but those are the main ones. What about you? What have you been doing this past year?” you ask. By the look on her face, you can tell she misses home. You can see the jealousy in her eyes that you got to experience all of this while she was away. However, she tries to push that down to tell her stories.

“First, I’m kind of sad that Criminal Minds is ending. I don’t think I’ll find a better cast then them. The last season comes out in January, and I know everyone is going to really like it.”

“Are we finally going to get answers on the relationship between Spencer and JJ? That confession was a big one.”

“It will be answered, yes. But I’m not saying anything else.”

“Fine, what else happened?” you ask, taking a huge sip of your drink.

“The movie I’m in now is just amazing, and the cast and I have this ongoing bet to see how and when our director will break the news to one of the editors. She’s pregnant, and she’s married to the editor guy. Me and a few of the guys think she’s going to wait until he figures it out for himself, but then a few other people think--”

“I don’t want to just see you once a year,” you blurt, effectively cutting her off.

“What?” she asks, her voice soft.

“I’m sorry. I miss you too damn much, Andrea. You only come down for Christmas, but then you leave like we’re nothing to you. I really wanted you there at my work’s Halloween party. I may work from home, but we all like to gather for the important holidays to get together and go over what we’ve been working on. That party was not fun without you. You’re my best friend, and I want to see you more often. Take a break, please, and come home.”

“Y/N, I miss you too. More than you think. You don’t think I want to come home and be with family? I want to so much, but I’m working on a film, and then there are interviews, and I have another project when this movie ends. I really wish I could stay,” she sighs.

“And I wish I could go with you. I don’t like being away from you all year. I want more than a few weeks with you.”

“Then come with me.”

“What?”

“You work from home, so I don’t see why you can’t work from my set. Come with me when Christmas is over. We don’t have to be apart any longer. It can be a whole new chapter for us. You can meet the cast, and I’ll introduce you to Matthew,” she sings at the end. Damn my silly crush on the elusive Dr. Reid.

“Well, if it’s for Matthew, then sure,” you joke, and she gives you a playful glare. “Do you really think this can work?”

“Yeah, when I’m filming, you can do your work, and then afterward, we can hang like we used to. I miss us.”

“I miss us too,” you smile.

“So, what do you say?”

“I’ll go with you,” you grin.

“Yay! I’m so glad! Oh, this is going to be so much fun! You’re going to love New York.”

“We’re going to New York?”

“And many more places. We’re going to have so much fun.”

“Yeah, we will. It’s us against the world.”

“Forever and Always,” she finishes.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@kendall-michele​ @practicallylivesonline​ @skylarraker​ @idkbutspencer​

#25 days of rpf christmas #aj cook #aj cook x reader #aj cook fanfiction #aj cook fic #aj cook fiction #aj cook fan fiction #aj cook fanfic #aj cook fan fic #aj cook fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds fluff #cm #cm fic #cm fiction #cm fanfiction #cm fan fiction #cm fanfic #cm fan fic #cm fluff

[santoteez]

In The Bronx- Hongjoong (1)

Part: 1 of (?)

Parts 2 and 3 now available!

Genre: Drugdealer!Hongjoong, Drugdealer! SeonghwaAU, Eventual Angst, Eventual Smut, Eventual Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Requested: no

Warnings: MC is a black female, mentions of drugs, mentions of child neglect & abandonment, swearing, mentions of sex, Hongjoong’s brother is inspired by Mingi

NOTE: This fic does NOT, in any way, shape, or form, portray the way I view any member of Ateez nor does it depict their true personalities or actions. This AU is just that. An AU.

Hongjoong sat at the kitchen table of his one-bedroom apartment, bagging the white powder-like substance in tiny Ziploc bags, before moving onto the pungent-smelling plant. He knew it was wrong, but he did it for his family. Since he was little, it had always just been him and his brother.

His mother left them at the steps of a crackhouse when Hongjoong was just five. Minjoon, his younger brother, was just a month old. He remembered nothing of their mother, and for that Hongjoong was grateful. She set the baby carrier down next to Hongjoong’s jittery legs before running into a car with an unknown man who had a prominent scar on his face. A policeman saw the two boys crying from the street, which prompted a raid, although Hongjoong and Minjoon’s mother was never found, not even with the clue of the man’s scar which Hongjoong provided.

They spent years in and out of foster homes. It was a desperate struggle to keep the boys together. No one wanted to take in two boys at once. Nine times out of ten, the family wanted Minjoon alone. Hongjoong took no offense to that, if he were them, he’d only want Minjoon too. Minjoon was a parent’s dream. He was smart, talented, and studious. Most importantly, he wasn’t a rebellious teen with trust issues instilled in him from seeing his mother run away from the stoop where she told him to stay put. Hongjoong spent his teen years being ran out of foster homes, for reasons he thought were absolute bullshit. After all, how did he know his foster mom would freak out catching him in bed with a senior during his freshman year?

Eventually, Hongjoong turned 18, and gained legal guardianship of Minjoon, much to his foster parents’ dismay. They had planned to adopt Minjoon but seeing as though Hongjoong was his only known blood relative and had the means to take care of him as well as his own place, it was a no brainer for the judge that he be appointed as Minjoon’s caretaker.

What the judge didn’t know, however, was how Hongjoong came to make all that money. Sure, he had paystubs from a clothing store, but did he have to explain that he was fired a week before the court hearing after word got to the manager that he was a drug dealer in his spare time? No. And for as long as Hongjoong could, Minjoon didn’t have to know either.

That’s why every day from the time he dropped Minjoon off at school until it was time to go pick him up again, Hongjoong sat at their kitchen table and bagged his product, preparing it for pickup. As much as he’s wanted to quit, he was recently moved up to kingpin after his boss retired and left the business to him. Plus, it paid the bills and he just needed a little bit more to send Minjoon to college.

Hongjoong glanced at the clock. It was almost time for him to go. “Where the fuck is Seonghwa? He has to take all this shit from here.” He sighed. As if on cue, the door unlocked, Seonghwa flying in.

“I’m late. I know. I got caught up.”

Hongjoong looked up from the table. “Caught up in terms of women, or in terms of business?”

“Business. But I handled it.”

Hongjoong stood up, making sure his keys were in his pocket. “You always do. I gotta bounce, make sure all this shit is gone before Minjoon is here.”

“As you said, I always do. Oh yeah, HJ,” Seonghwa wasted no time tossing the product into his Northface backpack as Hongjoong put on a pair of sneakers and head out the door. “Santana is waiting for you outside her building.”

Seonghwa was Hongjoong’s right hand. The two started pushing weight around the same time, forming an unbreakable bond. When the business was left to Hongjoong, his first rule of order was to appoint Seonghwa as second in command. After all, he was the only one he could trust with a key to his apartment and the job of making sure word of the job never makes it to Minjoon.

Hongjoong hopped into his all-black, Nissan Altima, turning it on and pulling out of the parking space. The guys back at the warehouse clowned him all the time for choosing to drive such a mundane car, but he called it being smart. A Lamborghini or Aston Martin in the heart of The Bronx was a huge red flag. Who would think to suspect the guy with a Nissan?

Aside from his brother, the one person Hongjoong was willing to do anything for was Santana. Santana was a 5’4 dark skin woman that lived nearby. Hongjoong tried for months before he was able to capture her attention. He always saw her on her way home from work when he did his nightly drops. He always looked forward to seeing her hips sway and her curly hair either down her back or up in a bun. She never responded when he said “Goodnight” or “How you doing” but that didn’t stop him from saying it every time. It wasn’t until Hongjoong asked about the book he saw her carrying one of the few times he saw her during the day.

“You’re reading Aurora. That’s a great book.”

“You read?” She asked skeptically.

“Of course. It’s about a ship traveling to Tau Ceti to form a human colony, right? You owe me a date if I am.”

And the rest is history.

Today was Santana’s day off, so Hongjoong pulled up to her building where she was already standing. She was dressed in Nike from head to toe with Bred 1s on her feet. Her face was beat to the gods, with red eyeshadow to match her sneakers and lip gloss coating her full lips.

She hopped into the passenger side and Hongjoong leaned in for a kiss.

“Ms. Davis, as beautiful as ever.” He said when she pulled away.

“On our way to get Minjoon?” She asked, putting on her seatbelt.

“The one and only,” Hongjoong said.

“Nice. I love that kid.”

Hongjoong side-eyed her playfully. “Calm that down.” He said, laughing when she rolled her eyes at him. “Nah I get it. He’s pretty amazing.”

“Amazing? HJ, he’s UNDEFEATED. All-star quarterback, captain of the debate team, student body president? Isn’t he on his way to win prom king?”

Hongjoong nodded proudly. “He’s gonna take over the world someday.”

Santana grabbed his free hand. “Only because he has the best of the best in his corner, every step of the way.”

Hongjoong lifted her hand to his lips, kissing them softly. They drove the rest of the way in silence, occasionally singing along to the radio. They pulled up to Minjoon’s high school just in time to see him walking out, a crowd following him through the doors, girls calling out to him and swooning when he reciprocated. He broke into a slow jog when he saw Hongjoong’s car, Santana hopping out of the passenger seat to greet him and move to the back. Hongjoong told her numerous times that she didn’t have to get out, but she insisted. She loved seeing them interact with one another. It was one of the few times Hongjoong looked completely carefree; the way he should look all the time.

“Santana! Long time no see!” Minjoon shouted, beaming at the short girl.

“Minjoon, the man of the hour. I see all those girls eyeing you.” She winked.

“Don’t give me so much credit. I learn everything I know from the man in the driver’s seat.” Minjoon laughed, hopping in the car.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just don’t bring no girl with a belly to the house. I’ll crack your shit.” Hongjoong dapped him up.

“Same goes for you. If Santana so much as gains an ounce, I’m coming for your head.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “That’s none of your business, I’m grown.”

“It becomes my business when I can’t sleep because all I hear is your name being screamed from the living room.”

“I bought you Beats! USE THEM!”

“Seriously? That’s your solution?”

“They’re noise-canceling. What’s that whisper shit called? ABCD?” Hongjoong asked.

“ASMR, babe,” Santana said in between laughs.

“There you go. Fall asleep to that shit.”

They went on like this until reaching the house. There, Seonghwa was standing outside with a couple of guys from the crew. Minjoon hopped out running to him.

“Seonghwa! How you been, playa?”

“Shit. Not as good as you, Youngblood. Look like you living on top of the world nowadays.” Seonghwa smiled at the young boy.

Hongjoong watched the interaction from the car, staring intently.

“Are you ever gonna tell him?” Santana asked.

Hongjoong knew what she was referring to. As far as Minjoon knew, Hongjoong was an overnight stock associate for Costco and was saving up to go to college, after having gotten his GED a couple years back. Faking the paystubs and documentation for Minjoon’s school was a piece of cake, with his boy San, who managed the local storefront, providing him with anything he needed. There was even video evidence of him working, should he ever need it.

“C’ mon Santana, don’t start that shit.” He refused to meet her gaze.

“You can’t keep him in the dark forever. Eventually, he’ll find out. He’ll be mad you lied to him.” She pointed out. If there’s anything Minjoon valued, it was honesty. Knowing his only family lied to him would crush the boy like no other.

“I know that. I just-” Hongjoong paused, looking for the right words. He glanced back out the window to see Minjoon giving Seonghwa a very detailed re-enactment of last week’s football game.  “Not yet. Let him be a kid for a little longer. I never got that.”

#ateez fluff #ateez #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez yunho #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez san #ateez yeosang #ateez fanfic

[hermannsthumb]

Because I am in a mood for horrible things, what do you think of Hermann getting to close to uncovering the truth so Precursor possessed Newt seduces him into bed as a distraction? Bonus if the Precursors taunt Hermann about it later.

i know this ask is from like. august. but i literally filled this ages ago and FOR SOME REASON....NEVER POSTED IT UP. looking over it now it’s definitely because right after i wrote it i was like :( no bonus unfortunately thatd probably kill me to write

so im editing it a little bit but....here is one of the only uprising compliant fics ive ever written LOL (also the “play with your test tubes” line is ripped literally directly from the novelization. which i never bothered to read bc i hated the film but i have some Choice bits saved via a friend. like the test tubes line) rated E/18+ below cut

There’s something off about Newton.

Newton’s always been vain. He always did his hair up with too much product and wore jeans a bit too tight and stressed and fretted over even the smallest wrinkle, but he never wore suits like this before, never kept himself so perfectly shaven, never kept his waist so trim. He’s lost his soft edges, the glasses that used to frame his face so nicely. He’s colder, too—colder to strangers, colder to Hermann. They fought in the past, of course, argued incessantly, took petty jabs at each other’s disciplines, but Newton never outright refused to discuss research with Hermann before.

Hermann’s research won’t matter, Newton says, his drones will make this obsolete, Hermann’s wasting his time, Hermann shouldn’t bother.

It’s been a decade, Hermann knows, people change in a decade, Hermann himself has changed in a decade (Hermann’s a little lonelier, a little sadder, a little more spontaneous, a little messier), but there’s something off. Something wrong. Hermann can’t quite place it. Hermann—

“You should come ‘round for dinner,” Newton says. His demeanor has changed, so subtly—all business before, but now, he’s standing close, eyelids half-mast, lips curled into a lazy smile. “We could catch up. Talk about that experiment of yours. Play with your—” Newton casts a little glance at the door, then takes a step forward, drags a finger down Hermann’s chest, “—test tubes.”

“Oh,” Hermann says, mouth hanging open, and something is very wrong, but it’s been so long since he’s made love to Newton, so long since he’s been the subject of Newton’s raw desire, some ten long, long years spent without Newton’s kisses and Newton’s touch. “Ah. I.”

Newton drags his finger lower, skimming over the fastening Hermann’s trousers, and Hermann’s knees threaten to buckle. “Mm?”

“Dinner,” Hermann stammers. “Dinner would be lovely, Newton.”

“Tomorrow night,” Newton says, snapping his hand away, and he’s as brisk and businesslike as he was before. “I’ll have my people pick you up when you’re done with—” He waves his hand at the mess of Hermann’s lab and wrinkles his nose. “This. Yeah?”

“Alright, Newton,” Hermann says, heart pounding. “Thank you.” He nearly cringes at the words before they leave his mouth—how weak, how pathetic Newton must see him, grovelling like a desperate ex-lover for the slightest bit of attention. (Is he an ex-lover?)

“And, uh, wear something nice,” Newton says, looking Hermann up and down skeptically. Hermann’s hands go to his collar immediately, smoothing over it, self-conscious; he quite likes this shirt. He thought Newton would’ve liked it, which is why he wore it today in the first place. Newton doesn’t notice, just slips his sunglasses back on. He’s gone with a little wave and without a second glance.

Newton’s people pick Hermann up exactly as Newton promised the following night. He sends a big, fancy car, far more extravagant than anything either of them have owned in their entire lives, with a minibar in the back. The driver tells Hermann Dr. Geiszler insists Hermann make himself comfortable, have as many drinks as he’d like. “Why couldn’t Dr. Geiszler be here, then?” Hermann says, politely refusing the man’s attempts to take his suit coat for him.

The driver doesn’t answer.

He gets shown to the front of Newton’s condo complex, gets instructed to the right room, and then he’s riding the elevator up and standing in front of Newton’s door. He almost can’t bring himself to knock. “It’s unlocked,” Newton calls from inside as Hermann raises his hand, almost like he can sense Hermann. Perhaps some strings of their neural link remain, frayed and weakened by time though they may be. “Come on in.”

Hermann pushes open the door. Newton’s condo is far too extravagant, far too elegant for Hermann’s and Newton’s tastes, marble countertops and windows the size of walls, but that’s not what makes Hermann nearly stumble, grip his cane hard, makes him say “Newton?” in surprise.

There’s candles lit on what’s presumably the dining table, the counters, the coffee table, and Newton’s leaning against the table with a glass of wine and in a very sheer robe. It’s more like lingerie than anything. There’s absolutely nothing beneath it. Hermann snaps his eyes up, and Newton sets his glass down. “Hermann,” he says, and swoops in, throws his arms over Hermann’s shoulders. He’s so warm, so close, and it’s so much after nothing for so long, and Hermann very nearly gasps when Newton presses their lips together in a kiss.

“Newton,” Hermann repeats, feeling vaguely foolish, because he’d been hoping the night would go like this but didn’t by any means expect it, “what are you—that is—?”

Newton flutters his eyelashes prettily. “I wanted to dress up for you,” he says, and wraps his fingers around Hermann’s neat tie.

“I wanted to talk about my research,” Hermann says weakly. “We—”

Newton rubs his hips against Hermann’s, bare skin on fabric. Newton’s already hard, the head of his prick flushed red. (This isn’t right, Hermann thinks, something isn’t right with Newton, but oh, Newton is so handsome, so lovely, only more so with age, with the grey at his temples and the little lines at the corners of his eyes that Hermann wants nothing more than to kiss over and over. Hermann should’ve been there to watch him grow old.) “Research?” Newton says. He gives an exaggerated pout. Purposefully silly. It’s more like the Newton Hermann remembers. “That’s boring, man, come on.”

“I suppose—ah.” Newton leans back in and runs his tongue along Hermann’s lower lip, rubs his prick at the front of Hermann’s trousers again, and Hermann’s brain feels fuzzy.

“Come sit,” Newton says in his ear, and he threads the fingers of his right hand with Hermann’s left and tugs him forward. Hermann lets Newton pull him to the sofa and sit him down, lets him set his cane aside delicately, and then Newton settles himself down atop Hermann’s lap. “Hermann,” he sighs, nosing at Hermann’s neck, “I missed you so much, honey. I’ve been so lonely without you.” He picks up one of Hermann’s hands and slides it across his chest, just over one of his nipples, and rubs his prick against the front of Hermann’s nice dress shirt. He lowers his voice. “Do you still remember how I like to be touched?”

Of course Hermann remembers. He remembers how to draw sighs from Newton, gasps of pleasure, how to take him apart until he’s trembling in Hermann’s arms and breathing out pledges of love. He wonders if Newton remembers how to do the same for him. Hermann brushes his thumb over the nipple presented so readily in front of him and feels Newton shiver. “Newt,” he croaks (he came to talk about business, about his research), “I really could use your input on my work. Ah.” Newton worries Hermann’s earlobe between his teeth. “You see. Newton. Ah. It’s not quite finished, you see—”

“Mm-hmm?” Newton hums, working open Hermann’s top few buttons. Hermann can’t help but rub his thumb over the same nipple once more and elicit another little shiver of pleasure.

“The equation,” Hermann says, as Newton kisses his throat and Hermann strains in his trousers, “I’m missing—” Newton takes his other hand, pushes it under the fabric of the little sheer robe and down his lower back, down to the curve of his ass, and Hermann lets out a deep groan. “Oh, Newton…”

“C’mon,” Newton says, and bites at his earlobe again. “We can talk after.” He’s grinning. Hermann’s too entranced by him to do anything but nod.

Newton takes him to bed, then, to his ridiculous, absurd, oversized bed, pushes Hermann down and rides him fast, doesn’t even bother to take Hermann’s shirt off fully and leaves Hermann’s trousers bunched around his knees, cries and begs and tells Hermann how much he missed him, how much he’s wanted him for so long.

(“Why didn’t you call,” Hermann snarls, gripping Newton’s thighs hard enough to leave red half-moons against his inked skin, “why didn’t you email, or text, or—”)

(It’s the best orgasm Hermann’s had in ten years.)

“Stay the night,” Newton says later, propped up on his elbow and idly tracing across Hermann’s jaw with his finger. “I’ll make everything up to you, starting tomorrow.”

There’s a curtain covering something in the corner of Newton’s bedroom, something big, something Hermann hadn’t noticed in his previous haze of lust, and Hermann can’t stop staring. He doesn’t like it. “Newton, love,” Hermann begins.

“I’ll actually make dinner,” Newton continues, not noticing Hermann’s discomfort. Perhaps ignoring it. He nips at Hermann’s throat. “Whatever you want. Or we could go out somewhere fancy. There’s a place—”

“What is that?” Hermann points at the curtain.

Newton steals a little kiss. “Forget about that rocket fuel,” he says, lips brushing against Hermann’s. “I don’t want you hurting yourself. Or worse. I mean, what would I do without you, Hermann?”

Hermann tears his eyes away from the curtain, his chest clenching painfully. Ten years of radio silence from Newton. “You seem to be faring pretty well without me,” he spits out, bitter.

Newton straddles Hermann’s waist again, pressing kisses to his neck once more. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ve just been so busy, Hermann, and stressed, it wasn’t on purpose, I’d never blow you off like that on purpose.” He rubs their noses together. “I love you.”

Hermann wraps his arms around Newton, holding him in place. Newton has been busy, he supposes, and stressed, which would explain why he’s been so odd, so distant. He still makes love the same—vocal, enthusiastic, eager to please Hermann and be pleased in return—still kisses the same, still touches Hermann the same. He’s still the man Hermann loves. “I know,” Hermann sighs. He kisses the top of Newton’s head. He doesn’t think he’ll ever quite be able to forgive Newton for all those years, but he’s certainly willing to start something new.

“Forget about the fuel?” Newton says.

Hermann really could hurt himself with ill-advised experiments with kaiju blood. (Besides: Newton’s concern is proof Newton still cares about his well-being.) “Alright, Newton,” Hermann says, unable to help his smile, and Newton steals another little kiss.

“Stay the night,” Newton insists once more. “I’ll cook breakfast.”

Newton’s bed is comfortable. Newton is even more comfortable. Hermann nods.

It’s good to have Newton back.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #this is SIGNIFICANTLY angstier than my usual fills i need to like. cleanse myself #not sfw ////////// #Anonymous

[asterythm]

A is for Amour || Home Again, Home Again (3)

Pairings: Eventual Logicality, eventual Prinxiety Word Count: 6.6k Chapter Summary: Roman lives with his boyfriend most of the time, but comes back to visit his family every other weekend. Of the two houses, only one is home. Chapter Warnings: pain/injury mention, argument mention, food mention, sleeplessness/insomnia, general negative emotions, toxic/abusive relationships (specifically, roman and a character who was originally supposed to be deceit when i first started planning this story way back when. i don't know if monet is really deceit anymore, but if you're not a fan of abusive deceit then i'd say maybe steer clear of this fic just to be on the safe side. <3)

<< First Chapter || < Previous Chapter || Read this chapter on AO3

Roman Foley had to actively restrain himself from slamming his car door as he headed towards the front porch of the house where he’d grown up.

It wasn’t that Roman wasn’t happy to be home; quite the opposite, in fact. There were few things more important to him than his biweekly visits — as anyone who had ever met Roman could confirm, the young man talked about his family very fondly, and very often. (To be fair, the entire Foley family tended to talk very often in general.)

It was because of Monet, you see.

Well, no — that wasn’t entirely true. Granted, Roman’s boyfriend was a large part of the reason that Roman’s teeth were gritted and his fists were clenched, but it wasn’t fair to put all of the blame on the lovely Monet Triche. They had only started arguing earlier that day because of how much Monet cared, and Roman could hardly get upset about having a caring significant other in his life, after all.

Still, it was getting to be absolutely exhausting, having to tell Monet the exact same things over and over and over again every single time he wanted to visit home. It didn’t make sense. Monet knew perfectly well that Roman visited his family every other weekend! He’d been doing so ever since his first year of college, long before he and Monet had met, or fallen in love, or moved in together. Rain or shine, snow or hail, no matter the workload, Roman would always set aside time for the ones who’d raised him.

And rain or shine, snow or hail, no matter how many times Roman had repeated himself, Monet would somehow always take it as a personal attack whenever Roman wanted to spend time with anyone else. It was really getting on Roman’s nerves, having to constantly explain the same things every time the subject came up: It’s only going to be for two days / I just want to spend time with my family / I’ve got a life outside of our relationship, too, you know / No, no, I didn’t mean it like that / I’m not trying to imply that I don’t need you in my life / I just have other things that matter too / Of course, I’m not replacing you / I could never replace you / You’re all I need / Nothing matters to me more than you do…

Sometimes, Roman felt almost like a broken record; stuck in a loop, only capable of repeating variations of the same phrase. He’d tried changing the music, once. The experience had taught him to never try it again. It was so much easier to just stick to what was safe. The truth was, Roman knew that his boyfriend’s anger was simply unavoidable. Rather than wasting his time trying to prevent it, he might as well focus on the next best thing: pacifying Monet as quickly as possible.

To tell the truth, his reasons for wanting to keep Monet happy were a little selfish. Roman just couldn’t stand knowing that someone was mad at him. Especially when the someone in question was as near and dear to Roman’s heart as his boyfriend was. Monet was too kind, too caring, too considerate, too perfect. The idea of upsetting him was positively sickening to Roman.

And yet.

As much as he’d like to pretend that today had only been a fluke, the truth of the matter was that the two of them were fighting. more than ever lately. No matter how hard he tried, Roman was always slipping up, always saying or doing the wrong thing. Throw Roman’s short temper into the mix, and, well… it wasn’t hard to see where all the bickering was coming from.

Had today’s argument been his fault, then? Maybe. Probably. After all, the past two or ten or so had all been his fault. Why not this one too?

Without warning, a stab of pain jarred Roman back into the present. He glanced down to see his hand curled into a fist, fingers clenched so tight his knuckles were turning paper-white. Ouch.

Rubbing at the four little half-moon indents his nails had left, Roman forced all thoughts of Monet out of his head. What’s done is done, he reminded himself. The conversation was done and over with; now he was at last where he was meant to be. Where he wanted to be. Where his mother’s joyful laugh and his father’s steady arms and his brother’s bright eyes lived.

Roman’s keys jingled merrily as he unlocked the front door of his home.

He barely managed to set a foot inside before Patton came flying down the stairs, barrelling right into his chest. Fortunately, Roman had been ready for this — intentional or not, his younger brother always greeted him the same way — so instead of losing his balance, he shut the door behind him and swung Patton around in a tight hug, all in one fluid motion.

“Good to see you too, Pat,” Roman laughed as he gently let his brother down. “I’ve only been gone for two weeks, you know. Like always.”

“Yeah, but that’s two weeks too many! I always miss you so much when you’re on campus. Why can’t you just come back to live with us again?”

An eyebrow went up. “This again? You know exactly why, Patton.”

“Yeah, yeah, the house that you and Mr. Perfect live in is closer to J. M. Stokes College than our place is. It’s just…” Patton sighed. “It’s been so long since you moved out, and I know that means I should probably be used to it by now, but the house still feels so empty all the time without you around! I was just being silly, though. Obviously, I’d never actually ask you to leave Monet. It’s really easy to see how much you two care about each other.”

Easy to see how much we care about each other, huh? Might want to get those glasses checked, little brother.

No sooner than the thought slipped out, Roman stiffened. Where did that come from? He and Monet did care about each other. They were just going through a bit of turbulence, is all. Nothing to worry about.

Nothing that his family needed to know, either; especially with how overprotective his parents could sometimes get, Roman figured it was better to avoid raising unnecessary concerns. He and his boyfriend could work their relationship out on their own.

Roman managed a smile. “Yeah. Thanks, Patton.” He knew even as the words were leaving his mouth that they didn’t sound quite right; something in his voice felt crooked, bent, unnatural. And judging by the way that Patton’s face subtly twisted, his little brother had picked up on it too. Roman’s smile fell away as he started desperately praying that Patton wouldn’t ask about —

“Roman, is there something wrong?”

Shoot. Roman’s mouth opened and closed, opened and closed, as he frantically cast about for an excuse. He came up empty. Shoot, shoot, shoot! Now was not the time to be drawing a blank! It wasn’t like he could just tell Patton that he’d fought with Monet; one thing would lead to another, and then before he knew it his family would be asking him all sorts of hard-to-deflect questions. But what else could he say?

Just as he was starting to panic, two familiar faces appeared from around the corner, and the relief that crashed into him felt almost tangible. “Mom! Dad!” he called out, smiling genuinely this time.

“Good to see you, Roman.” Dot and Larry Foley greeted their eldest boy with a hug (albeit much tamer than the one he had given to Patton a moment ago) before hustling both sons further into the house, tutting about the cold weather and Patton being underdressed and Roman needing to wash his hands. Grateful for the distraction, Roman was more than happy to oblige.

***

Warm water slipped between his fingers, sending heavily-scented suds spiraling down the drain. The small room was completely filled with the smell of bilberry-and-thyme soap he’d been using, so intense that Roman was almost feeling a little lightheaded. His family was still awfully fond of their scented stuff, apparently.

(Oh well, it could be worse. At least they’ve moved on from their floral phase. Roman shuddered, remembering the days when every single toiletry they owned came from this fancy yellow-tulip pack that Patton had adored, but Roman had detested. That phase had lasted his family at least a solid year and a half. As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a power on Earth that could convince him to go back to that awful time.)

Inspecting his palms, Roman was glad to see that the little crescent marks made by his fingernails had disappeared. He found himself hoping that perhaps he’d been mistaken; perhaps, Patton hadn’t really noticed Roman’s odd behaviour after Monet had been brought up.

It was a foolish hope, of course — Patton’s quick, emotionally-attuned mind could catch even the slightest shift in mood — but that didn’t stop Roman from hoping nonetheless. He just didn’t have the energy to lie to anyone else.

Fortune favours the beautiful , he’d once heard someone say. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, all rich red-brown hair and dark eyes and sharp features, Roman had his fingers crossed that those words might turn out to be true. He’d need all the fortune he could get over the next two days.

***

“So how’s Into the Woods going?” Dot asked as soon as the four of them sat down for dinner. It had already been a few weeks since rehearsals had begun, but his mother and father were still just as excited about the production as they had been way back when Roman was first cast as Cinderella’s Prince.

Roman answered her between bites. Rehearsals had been going fantastically well. In fact, only a few days ago, Roman became the first and only actor to be off-book. The young lady directing their musical production had been very pleased at his dedication — a fact that she didn’t hesitate to make clear. She had held Roman up as an example to the rest of the actors, saying that the others all ought to be off-book as soon as he was. He’d pretended to be embarrassed, of course, but really he’d been having a blast gobbling up all of the praise.

What had been less fun was when his director decided that, since Roman was off-book, she was going to take away his script entirely until the show was over. This information had not sat well with the rest of the cast, who weren’t exactly keen on the promise of seeing their scripts disappear into the director’s Black Backpack of Doom (as they all fondly referred to it) as well.

“It took me a dozen donuts to convince her to give it back,” Roman finished. As his family laughed, he felt himself starting to relax a little bit. “That reminds me of something that happened just the other day, in fact. At the end of one of our recent rehearsals, our Baker came up to me and said...”

Gesturing animatedly, Roman began a new story. And then another one, and another, and another. He talked about missed cues and flubbed lines and wet paint and high notes, about anything and everything he could come up with.

Truthfully, though it may have seemed like Roman was only babbling on because of how much he loved the sound of his own voice, there was more to it this time. He was only telling so many stories in a desperate attempt to keep his family interested in the topic at hand. The last thing he wanted was for them to get bored and switch to something else (read: Monet).

As Roman finished talking about a dance number gone wrong, he could feel his mind racing, struggling to come up with something else to say. His plate was almost empty. He only needed one more anecdote to see him through to the end of the meal. But nothing was coming to mind. Think, Roman, think!

Larry Foley cleared his throat, leaning forward. At the sound, Roman’s heart sank into his shoes. That was a sure sign that his father was about to change the subject.

He had to say something. As a last-ditch attempt, Roman turned to address his brother. “So — uh — Patton — how was your first week back at school? You missing the winter break yet?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Roman could see his father slowly settling back. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. Safe.

Meanwhile, Patton poked at his food, refusing to meet Roman’s eyes as he replied. “About as bad as you’d think. Turns out, a couple weeks away from Mr. Mitchell wasn’t enough to get him to get off of my back a little bit.”

Roman made a face. “Dragon Witchell still getting you down?”

“Yeah, but it’s whatever. Same old same old. I’m pretty much used to it by now.”

“Oh! That reminds me!” their mother chimed in.“Patton just had his first tutoring session yesterday!”

Roman perked up. “Oh, that’s marvelous news! How come you didn’t tell me that you were starting tutoring, Pat?”

“Didn’t want to bug you,” Patton shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“But really, how has that been going for you, Pat?” said their father. “You didn’t give your old man to many details yesterday, you know.”

“Just gave us the whole leave me alone, I’ve got homework due tomorrow speech and bolted.” their mother explained to Roman. “You know the one. You used it more than a few times yourself when you were in high school. Anyway, we left him alone since we knew that you’d be able to get all the juicy gossip out of him today.”

Roman didn’t know what to say to that. On one hand, he didn’t want to pressure his brother into sharing details if Patton wasn’t ready yet. On the other… he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t even a little curious.

Luckily, he ended up not needing to say anything at all. Patton spoke up instead. “First of all, quit saying things like juicy gossip, mom. It doesn’t actually make you sound cool. You have got to stop listening to everything your students tell you. Second, the reason I didn’t tell you anything is because there’s really nothing to tell. The session went exactly the way we were expecting; I showed up at the library, the guy introduced himself and asked me a couple of questions, I left. Just like I already told you — I got to meet the guy who’s going to make me smarter, and that’s it.”

Their mother gave Patton a stern look. He flinched.

“Sorry. Um, I got to meet the guy who’s going to fix my marks. Is that better?”

Apparently not. Dot wasn’t satisfied yet. “That’s not the point of these sessions, Patton. He’s not ‘going to fix your marks’, or fix you, or anything . Your tutor — what was his name again, Larry?”

“Logan Berry,” their father supplied.

“Right, thank you — your tutor Logan is just going to work through your homework with you and sometimes give you some questions to solve. It’s really just extra review for what you’re covering in class. Nothing about you needs to be fixed , all right?”

“Okay. Yeah. You got it.” With that, Patton hurriedly shoved his last forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, then got to his feet before he was even finished chewing. The wooden legs of his chair scraped loudly against the ground. They all cringed in unison.

“Patton!”

“Sorry, mom!” Swallowing, Patton grabbed his plate to carry it over to their kitchen sink. “Did you want me to wash the dishes today?” he called over his shoulder.

“Yes, thank you, love.” Roman’s mother lowered her voice and leaned in conspiratorially, muttering across the table to her older son. “I just know there’s something he’s not telling us. And if anyone can figure out what that something is, it’s you.”

“I can still hear you, mom!” called Patton from the other room, with a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

“No, you can’t, sweetie.”

Patton’s only response was to turn the kitchen tap on at full blast, very conveniently drowning out the conversation between Roman and his mother.

Despite the loud water, though, Roman never was one to pass up an opportunity to put on a performance. Matching his mother’s dramatics gesture for gesture, he glanced exaggeratedly around him before replying in an equally hushed stage whisper. “I mean, I’m curious too, mom, but I don’t think that Patton could be hiding anything important. They’ve only just started, haven’t they? What secrets could he possibly be keeping? So, as flattered as I am that you have this much faith in my — admittedly impressive — detective skills… I think that if he doesn’t want to talk about it, we ought to respect that choice.”

Dot sighed dramatically. “You’re right. Goodness gracious, why do you have to be so mature, Roman, really? You’re making your mother look bad!”

Swallowing his last bite of dinner, Roman grinned. “You could never look bad, mom. I promise you, you’re the most beautiful woman I will ever know. Beyonce’s got nothing on you.” He punctuated his statement by grabbing his now-empty plate and getting up to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“Roman, you stop that!” laughed his mother, giving him a good-natured shove. “Oh, you’re just so darn cute , I can’t handle it. Go help your brother with the dishes.”

“Sorry, I just can’t help it. My natural charm waits for no one , ” Roman joked in response before obediently turning away. With his back to his mother, Roman waited until he was nearly into the kitchen before finally allowing himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

I made it! he cheered silently, a smile stretching from cheek to rosy cheek. Dinner’s over, and not once did anyone mention —

“Yes, well, save that charm for your boyfriend, why don’t you?”

…Monet.

Roman forced his feet to keep moving, praying that his mother wouldn’t notice the way that his shoulders immediately tensed up.

***

2:06 am. 2:07 am. 2:08 am.

Roman lay still, staring at the blinking numbers on his bedside clock. He’d tried everything he could think of to fall asleep, but a nice cup of calming tea, a warm shower, and at least fifty-six quadrillion tosses and turns later, his eyelids were still refusing to grow heavy.

Try as he might, he couldn’t get his boyfriend’s disappointed face out of his mind.

The fact was that their argument from earlier was still weighing heavily on him. But something wasn’t adding up. For one, who was he even mad at? For most of the day, he’d thought the answer was obvious — Monet, of course. Now he wasn’t so sure.

With every second that ticked by, it became clearer and clearer that Roman wasn’t getting any sleep tonight. If that was the case, he might as well try to work apart this tangled knot that was growing in his mind.

Roman began by asking himself a simple question, figuring he could work his way up to answering some harder ones once he’d laid down a foundation of facts. Silently, his lips formed words: how are you feeling?

That was easy. Angry. No, guilty. No, bitter. No, jealous. No, confused. No —

Perhaps this question wasn’t as easy as he’d thought.

Roman lay in the dark, struggling to figure out the right word to describe how he was feeling. Nothing was coming to him. Why was this so difficult?

He pondered. By his head, numbers blinked. Slowly, gently, Roman blinked too.

***

Roman’s bedroom window was ablaze.

Delicate fingers of frost curled across the glass, illuminated by golden ribbons of sun. Millions of tiny rainbows were scattered across his carpet, a dazzling light show the result of the sun hitting the window just right. The vision was breathtaking, otherworldly...

And entirely unwelcome.

Rubbing at his bleary eyes, Roman wondered, not for the first time, why he always seemed to wake up just when the sun was at its brightest.

Oh, well. At least he was awake. He wasn’t completely sure at what time he’d fallen asleep last night, but even it had only been for an hour or so, the short rest had worked wonders.

Surrendering to the bright sunlight, Roman rose out of bed with a yawn and luxuriating stretch. He had to admit that things seemed a lot better in the morning. Today, he decided, I’m just going to forget about Monet. I can figure out what I’m going to do about him when I get back to campus in the evening. I only get to see my family every other week — there’s no way I’m spending the entire visit too caught up in my own life to enjoy the limited time I have in theirs.

The unmistakable smell of bacon frying greeted him as he made his way down the stairs, pulling his shirt on as he went. Roman inhaled deeply. When he let his breath back out again, he could feel the last traces of negativity from the night before escaping with it. It was impossible to be upset with bacon on the grill.

“Good morning, world!” he sang out — literally — as he turned into the kitchen, making a show of closing his eyes and wafting his hand under his nose. “Mmm. That smells downright delectable, dad.”

“Breaking out the alliteration already, are we? Someone’s in a good mood today,” said his father, giving him an affectionate pat on the back. Loading a plate with a few pieces of bacon plus a slice of toast, Roman turned to make his way towards the wooden table, where his brother was already halfway through a slice of his own. (His mother was still asleep, of course; she never got up before noon if she could help it.)

“Morning, Roman!” Patton said around a mouthful of breakfast. “Glad you’re feeling better.”

It took a second for Roman to realize the full implications of his brother’s words. He froze.

Briefly. Then, he remembered his morning resolution — no worrying allowed, least of all about Monet. Holding tightly to that thought, Roman started to move again. As he reached for a jar of Crofter’s, he asked, as nonchalantly as possible: “Why, whatever do you mean?” The Crofter’s kept evading his fingers, just barely out of reach.

His brother passed him the jar. “Well, it seemed like something was getting you down yesterday, but I didn’t wanna ask. Sorry, should I have not brought this up?”

Gesturing with the spoon he was using to spread jam, Roman breezily waved off his brother’s concerns. “Never fear, Patton, I’ve just been stressed out of my mind about schoolwork lately. Have I told you yet about the colossal paper I need to write for Theatre History 201?” When a shake of Patton’s head indicated that he hadn’t, Roman launched into an explanation about the difficult assignment, playing it up to be the only thing that had caused his strange behaviour yesterday.

Their father sat down next to them about midway through Roman’s spiel, coffee in one hand and newspaper in the other. “Sounds stressful,” he commented once Roman was finished, before promptly adding, “but I’m sure you’ll do perfect, as always. I wouldn’t expect my clever boy to ever settle for anything less.”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” Roman replied, chewing. “But I can’t help but worry all the same. It’s an important paper.”

“Don’t be silly, Roman. I know you. You have nothing to worry about.” Roman couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable at the finality of the words — what if his father was wrong, and Roman ended up letting him down?

That said… it was true that Roman had a history of perfect scores. His father was probably right; important or not, this paper would become nothing more than another item to add to that list, in the end.

“Thanks, dad.”

“Anytime, pal.” Satisfied, Larry Foley stood with a yawn, peering into his now-empty coffee mug before heading back into the kitchen, presumably to fill it back up again. Roman didn’t miss the meaningful look that their father threw at Patton on his way out, though the meaning was lost on Roman.

Patton seemed to understand it well enough, however.

Roman noted his brother’s angled eyebrows, drooping shoulders, pursed lips. Being an actor had its perks; for one, the subtleties of body language hardly seemed subtle at all to Roman’s trained eyes. But at the moment, he couldn’t help but wish away that particular skill. Watching Patton get sad was like watching a puppy cry. And oh, Roman did not want to think about puppies crying.

He hastened to change the subject before he could be attacked by any more distressing dog visuals. Roman waited until his father was completely out of the room, then spoke quietly. “Patton, I told mom last night to leave you be, but I have to admit I’m still curious about the whole tutoring thing. I mean, maybe there’s nothing to talk about in terms of the whole boring words-and-numbers-and-teaching part, but… how are you liking the actual person tutoring you? I think mom said his name is Logan, right?” His brother’s face changed, almost imperceptibly, at the mention of his tutor’s name. Aha! Encouraged by this apparent success, Roman pushed on. “Don’t get me wrong, I completely get it if, for any reason at all, you’d rather not talk about that guy right now. But I know you, Pat, and I know when you’re hiding something. If you so choose to share that something with me, I promise you I won’t tell anyone else.” He grinned. “Prince’s honour.”

Patton hesitated, and Roman could see the cogs turning behind his brother’s eyes. He held his breath.

Then, at last: “Roman, it’s… it’s nothing serious, honestly. I think you’re making this whole thing a lot more intense and dramatic than it needs to be.” Patton huffed out a breathy half-laugh. “I just didn’t really want to say this in front of mom and dad, but the truth is —”

“Hey, I’m gonna stop you right there.” Roman’s gaze slid from Patton’s face to the doorway behind Patton, where their father stood, newspaper comically close to his face and coffee mug nowhere in sight. “Dad, for all the directing work you do, you’d think that you would have picked up at least some acting skills by now. You’re trying way too hard to pretend that you’re not listening.”

Larry lowered his newspaper, flustered, trying (and miserably failing) to paste an innocent expression onto his face. “What? I’m — I’m not eavesdropping! I’m just waiting for the coffee to finish brewing!”

“You had a completely full carafe when I came downstairs twenty minutes ago and you’ve only had one mug of coffee since then,” replied Roman. He adopted a thick British accent. “ Elementary, my dear dad.”

“Alright, fine.” Recognizing that he had been defeated, their father was forced to give up. “Sorry, kiddos. I’ll give you two some privacy.”

As their father retreated back into the kitchen — for real this time — Patton couldn’t help but giggle at the good-natured banter. Roman was grateful to see how much more relaxed his brother seemed now. He pushed his plate aside to rest his elbows on the table. “Okay, so my interest is piqued. Lay it on me, Pat.” An almost-wicked smile suddenly split across his face. “I want to hear all the juicy gossip you can spare.”

Patton drew in a deep breath. Opened his mouth, closed it again, stuffed a piece of bacon in his mouth to stall for time. Roman waited patiently.

Then, swallowing hard, Patton finally managed to squeak out, “Logan is, um… he’s kinda cute . ”

“Oh?” Roman’s eyebrows raised. “Kinda cute , is he now?”

“Yeah. I mean, no, he’s really cute. I was expecting some grumpy guy in a hoodie or something! Not someone like Logan. ” Patton didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. “Like, tall, handsome, with swoopy hair and shiny eyes that I could swim in. The whole package.” One fluttered uncertainly at his chest while the other ran through his hair, almost exasperated. “He — he wore a tie to our first meeting!”

By the time he was finished speaking, Roman’s eyes were alight with a shine that could rival even the brightest of gems, and his teasing tones were just as bright. “Sounds like someone’s got a crush. Never fear, you’re looking at the best wingman the world has ever seen. You need me to play matchmaker? I’ll put Cupid to shame, just you wait!”

But Patton shook his head. “No! Stop it! He’s way out of my league. And besides, even if he wasn’t… after all the rambling I did last night, I’m surprised he’s even letting me come back next week.” He pretended to fiddle with his glasses in an effort to hide his blush. (It didn’t work.) “I got, um, really nervous when I saw him, and you know what happens when I get nervous. He literally had to give me a five-minute speech about how desperately I needed to shut up.” Patton chuckled, until he realized his brother wasn’t chuckling with him. “Seriously, it’s okay! I wasn’t exactly going to tutoring so I could make ou — uh, friends. So I could make friends. I’m just there to learn, and he seems like he’s going to be a really awesome teacher. Please, don’t be worried.”

Though Roman still wasn’t convinced, he knew how to take a hint. His brother was through with the subject. Reluctantly, he said, “Well, I guess if your mind's made up, then… that’s that. But Patton, I’m sure that this whole situation isn’t as bad as you think. No one could ever not like you. It’s impossible.”

“Well, what about Mr. Mitchell? He hates me.”

“No one whose opinion is actually valid ,” Roman amended without missing a beat. “Dragon Witchell is nothing but a massive jerk. He doesn’t count.”

“Roman, you can’t say that! That’s not nice!” The words probably would have been more convincing if Patton hadn’t been laughing while he said them.

“That doesn’t make it any less true!” The tension from earlier quickly disappearing, Roman found himself able to breathe easy again now that the great crying puppy threat of 2019 had been averted. Sitting on either side of their familiar table, wood worn smooth from years of love, Roman and his brother were for a moment completely at peace as they laughed and joked about school — about work — and about everything in between.

***

The rest of the day came and went much faster than Roman anticipated. He and Patton had gone their separate ways not too long after breakfast was over, him retreating into his room while Patton settled himself down at the small desk near their house’s front door. He’d been keeping himself busy since then, only venturing out of his room every so often to grab a snack or use the washroom. Then, all too soon, his curtains were drawn and he was reaching to turn on his desk lamp. It seemed almost like he’d only managed a breath or two before the sky was suddenly painted over with shades of inky black.

Roman’s laptop slid into its bedazzled sleeve. His clothes, neatly folded, went into his bag, which was then slung over his shoulder as he made his way downstairs. “I’m heading back now, okay?”

Patton immediately abandoned his worksheet to run over and give his older brother a hug. “Bye, Roman!” he said. Roman gave him a quick but firm squeeze.

“See you soon, love,” called his mother from the dining room, where she and her husband were engaged in an intense battle of cards. “Go Fish, Larry. Ha! Take that!”

Smiling fondly, Roman stepped outside.

The door swung shut behind him with a soft click. The instant he heard that sound, he could feel his whole body deflate.

Frankly, he wasn’t quite ready to go back to the house that he and Monet shared.

It’s not even that I’m still mad at him, reflected Roman as he settled into his black car. He turned the key and it sputtered to life. Somehow, the sound was at once familiar and foreign. This car used to belong to his parents. It was even older than Roman himself. It should feel anything but foreign.

And yet, things always looked so different from the driver’s seat.

But then the speakers came on — Best of Broadway; Vol. 3 — and everything was alright again. Coasting on down the familiar streets of Sandford, fingers drumming out a beat on the steering wheel, Roman finally let his mind wander free.

I’m just…   

He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d figured it out, but somewhere between learning about Patton’s crush-that-was-not-a-crush and finishing up neglected schoolwork, Roman had realized that Monet had never been to blame for their argument. It was hardly a bad thing that Monet wanted to spend as much time as possible by his side. Roman had overreacted, plain and simple.

And therein was where the problem lay. This time, Roman was the one at fault; he should have spent the weekend figuring out how he would apologize. But instead, he’d been moping about, feeling sorry for himself, distracting himself with idle tasks, all to avoid thinking about the person who cared about him perhaps more than anyone else in the world.

I’m just ashamed of how I handled everything.

With every second that ticked past, Roman grew more and more restless. He was slowly but surely getting closer to the very same house he’d angrily stormed out of two days ago, meaning he was getting closer and closer to having to face the man he’d hurt. He didn’t mind needing to swallow his pride and apologise; that had never been a problem. No, the gnawing in his chest was from the worry that his apology might not be accepted.

The further he drove, the more restless Roman grew. Saying sorry never did get easier. Not for a lack of trying — no matter how proud Roman could sometimes be, he could handle letting go of his ego if it meant holding onto his boyfriend — but because what worked one day might completely backfire the next. Too many times, a sincere apology had ended up being taken for an excuse, which of course only made things worse.

By the time Roman pulled into the driveway of the very same house he'd stormed out of two days ago, he was already rehearsing various apologies in his head. He imagined how Monet might react if he said this, if he did that... It took some time, but the mental preparation did help. A deep breath in and out, and then Roman was ready.

The door and his mouth opened at the same time, a plea already perched on the tip of his tongue. The words never got any further. When Roman entered the house, he was greeted not with an angry face, not with a stony silence, but with the sound of Monet’s laugh and the babble of their television set.

“Monet?”

The man in question turned at the sound of his name, arm slung lazily over the back of the couch. Completely at ease. “Oh! Hey there, Ro, good to see you! Did your family visit go okay?” His tone was casual, lighthearted, warm, without even a hint of accusation.

Roman blinked. “I — er — yeah, it was fine, but —"

“Glad to hear it,” Monet interrupted before Roman had the chance to voice his confusion. “Welcome home.”

Something about the way Monet said the word home seemed a little stiff, but Roman didn’t linger on it; there was a much more important question at hand. “Are you not… angry?”

“What?” Monet looked puzzled. “Why would I be angry? Did something happen?”

No way. “You know, the argu…” Roman started to explain on autopilot, but cut himself off. If Monet had already forgotten about the argument, then he saw no reason to bring it up again. “You know what, never mind,” he finished, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

But Monet wasn’t fooled. “Roman, tell me what’s going on. Why do you look so unhappy?”

“It’s really not a big deal —”

“Roman.”

Monet’s voice was suddenly hard as steel.

“Tell me.”

It wasn’t an invitation. It was a command, and Roman had no choice but to obey.

“...The argument we had. Right before I left on Saturday. I kept blaming you, but the problem wasn’t you, it was me. I was just too stubborn to admit it. I thought you’d still be upset at me for that. You’re… not?”

To Roman’s surprise, his boyfriend laughed.

“You can’t seriously think I’m still angry over that little spat. I would never let something so small ruin what we have. Don’t you know we’re stronger than that?” Monet’s expression changed just then, darkening as something new occurred to him. “Unless… Roman, you’re not still upset at me.”

“What? No!” Roman cried. “Not at all, I don’t — I’m not upset, Monet, I’m relieved. I spent the entire weekend worrying that you were mad at me!”

“There’s nothing to be mad about, Ro. We’re fine. Seriously, forget Saturday ever happened.” Monet gestured towards the television with his head. “Come on, it’s about time we finished off the last bag of popcorn anyway; it’s just been gathering dust sitting all alone in the cupboard. Let’s watch some TV together, okay? I’ll even let you choose the show.”

Overwhelmed with gratefulness, Roman could barely squeak out an “okay” before nearly tripping over his own two feet on his way to the kitchen cupboard. Forgiven and forgotten, just like that. He couldn’t believe how easy that had been.

He should have seen this coming. Sure, his boyfriend could get a little passionate now and then, but most of the time Monet was a real sweetheart. It was just like his boyfriend to have already given him forgiveness before he even thought to ask for it.

I don’t deserve him, thought Roman, watching the bag of popcorn slowly spinning around through the dimly lit microwave window. While he had been busily shifting blame and letting feelings fester, Monet had dismissed their petty little shouting match as soon as it was over. Had it even been a shouting match at all? Maybe he only remembered it as one because he had been shouting. He could have sworn that Monet had gotten angry too, but in the heat of the moment, his judgement could so easily have been clouded. He’d have to be careful not to let his temper get the better of him next time.

Though something uneasy and uncertain lingered in the back of his mind, the beep of the microwave distracted him from focusing on it too much. Whatever was bothering him, he was sure it was nothing a couple of handfuls of popcorn and some bad sitcoms couldn’t fix.

***

[next chapter]

A/N: okay, i know, i know it’s late, but i swear to you i have been doing absolutely everything in my power to finish editing this darn thing. it's been an insanely busy week, please forgive me for publishing late again :00 hopefully you enjoyed the chapter anwyays!! and as always, thank you so much for reading.

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