#the people behind the reception desk were incredibly confused when they saw me and what i had paid for these nights :o | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

Lovestruck and Lipstick Stained

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

synopsis: you and Tom don’t feel entirely out of characters after playing lovers in the MCU

thank you to @snowrosestonight for the idea!

Masterlist

“Well hey there Spiderman.”

You walked up to Tom at one of the many photoshoots of the press tour with a cheeky smile. He was dressed in his suit, a sight you had grown to love very dearly. Your time as Gwen Stacy in the MCU had been incredibly memorable, all thanks to Tom.

“Hey yourself.” Tom folded his arms and clocked your outfit, a white t shirt with Spider-Man’s mask in the shape of a heart and skin tight jeans. “Nice jeans. I think I can see the spare change in your pocket.”

You looked down at your jeans and pointed your foot, flexing the cherry red heels they’d put you in and laughed.

“I’m sure they’re no tighter than the suit. And at least I can go to the bathroom without a team to help me.” You teased him as you poked out your tongue.

“Don’t disrespect the suit.” Tom pretended to be insulted. “I recall saving your life a few times in it.”

“I mean no disrespect. Honestly, I never get tired of seeing you in that suit. It’s like a rush of endorphins every time.” You chuckled as you ran your fingertips down his arm. Tom couldn’t feel it through his many layers of material, but the act alone sent shivers down his spine.

“That’s how I felt when I saw that T-Shirt. Seriously, did they mold that to your body?” He teased as he eyed your ridiculously tight shirt. It was a classic look MJ had worn in the comics, and the wardrobe department wanted to pay homage to it. You had felt a little self conscious with the form fitting the ensemble was, but Toms comments had taken the edge off.

“A lady never reveals her secrets.” You shrugged playfully.

“Well you look amazing, darling. You should wear this more often.” Tom complimented as his eyes took their time going down your body. You stepped closer to him and fixed some stray hairs of his that had fallen out of place.

“You know, I just might.” You smiled as you touched up his hair. A content smile rested on Toms lips as comfortable silence settled between you.

“Are you two ready to go?” A set assistant came up to you, taking your attention away from each other.

“I think we are.” You answered for Tom and yourself.

“Let’s get started.”

You were lead onto set and given a mark to stand on. The flash of the camera wasn’t something you were used to yet, but having Tom directly at your side calmed your nerves.

You popped one of your legs up and gave the camera a sultry smile as you clung to Tom. There was a wind machine blowing your hair back as you posed, only adding to the magic. You switched up your face and position but never took your hands off Tom, and he did the same.

“Tom, can you put your hand in Y/n’s back pocket?” One of the photographers asked between shots.

“Is that okay with you?” Tom asked quietly, so only you could hear as he looked at you for permission.

“I prefer it.” You told him as you gave his face a once over. Tom smirked and held your gaze as he slid his hand into your back pocket, letting the cameras capture it. You winked at him before turning your attention back to the photographer, posing for a few more minutes before you took a break.

“Everyone take five. Great work guys.” The photographer smiled at the two of you before walking off set. You slowly untangled yourself from Tom, chuckling shyly as he slid his hand out of your pocket.

“That wasn’t too hard.” You joked as you walked towards your chairs on the set. Four women immediately came over to touch up your hair and makeup as you and Tom spoke.

“Hard? Looking pretty is my day job.” Tom scoffed and pretended to flip hair over his shoulder.

“And looking like I’m in love with you is mine.” You tweaked an eyebrows as someone fixed your hair.

“You do it so well.” Tom boasted. “Best I’ve ever seen, really.”

“Well, you know. I get lots of practice.” You shrugged casually. “And when looking at such a pretty face, it’s not that hard to look in love.” You teased him as you squished his cheeks. Tom laughed and pushed you off, smiling in gratitude at the hair and makeup people as they left.

“I, uh, I got pretty familiar with your back pocket today.” Tom said, keeping his yes down as he took a step towards you.

“Yeah.” You looked away as you felt your cheeks flush. “Not many get to say they’ve had that experience.”

“I better thank my lucky stars then, huh?” Tom folded his arms, giving you a cocky smile. You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes at him, not wanting him to get the upper hand.

“Yeah.” You spike softly, your breath fanning his face. “You better.”

With his chest touching yours now, Tom opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the set assistant.

“Are you guys ready to continue?” He asked, not realizing what he was interrupting. You and Tom shared own last look, heavy with disappointment, as you stepped away from each other and nodded.

“You got the lipstick, right?” He asked you. You looked at Tom in confusion, only to find him a blushing mess.

“Lipstick?” You asked.

“You’re gonna cover Tom’s face in lipstick stains for the second half of the photo shoot.” The assistant informed you, and you immediately understood the blush. Your cheeks flames up in a crimson of their own as you realized you’d have to kiss your best friend again after so many months without it.

“I got it.” Tom bashfully held up tube of red lipstick, avoiding eye contact with you. You stared at the tube, your mind drifting back to the long days on set where you and Tom, or Peter and Gwen, would kiss for hours until you got the perfect take.

“Awesome. Do you need any help Y/n?” The assistant asked you, snapping you out of your daze. You blinked a few times as you came back to reality and shook your head.

“I think I can manage.” You squeaked.

“Great. See you guys in a few.”

The assistant left you alone to get ready, a nervous flutter going through you as he left.

“Did you know about this?” You eyed Tom skeptically as you took the tube of lipstick from him.

“Oh, darling.” Tom snorted. “It was my idea.”

Your jaw dropped as he shrugged smugly and gave him a playful shove.

“You don’t quit, do you?” You clicked your tongue as you opened the lipstick, begging to apply it in the mirror as you held eye contact with him.

“No I do not.” He said proudly as he took a seat in his chair. “You said my face was pretty, right? Come make it even prettier.”

Tom beckoned you over with his fingers, making you gulp as you finished putting on your lipstick.

“Okay.” You waltzed over you him, dragging your finger along the side of your mouth to clean up the line. You put a knee between Toms legs and propped yourself up, leaning over him as you leaned your hands on each of his armrests.

“I think I’ll put one here.” You spoke softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Here.” Corner of the mouth.

“Both cheeks.” You narrated in a hushed tone as you pressed a kiss to either sides of his face. You could feel how hot his skin was under your lips, and it made you smile.

“This is already my favorite photo shoot.” Tom chuckled as you reapplied your lipstick and placed kisses along his hairline.

“Me too.” You mumbled before covering his neck and jawline in the red lipstick stains. After his neck was decently covered, you leaned back to admire your work. Tom looked at you with heavy eyelids, swimming in bliss as he drummed his fingers on your hips.

“One more.” You decided. “To top it off.”

You leaned in and placed a searing kiss to his lips, leaving a bright red mark in your wake.

“Good call.” Tom gave you a dopey smile one you pulled away.

“Come on.” You got up and took his hand. “Let’s go get our picture taken.”

“Wait, look.” You stopped walking to your hotel on your way back from the photoshoot when a certain building caught your eye. Tom stopped with you, as your arm had been linked through his.

“What are we looking at? A tattoo shop?” He looked at you curiously.

“Yeah. I was thinking of getting one to commemorate my time as Gwen Stacy.” You admitted as you shyly scratched behind your ear.

“What did you want to get?”

“Nothing crazy or anything.” You shrugged. “I just want something small to represent my role.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Tom asked as you walked inside the shop.

“About a million.” You chuckled. “That’s my problem. I can’t decide.”

“Well what’s your favorite scene?” He asked you as he browsed the artwork on the walls of the shop.

“I like when Peter sets up a picnic on the giant web. It’s my favorite scene visually and I, uh, I liked shooting it.” You looked at him timidly through your lashes. It was a great day on set, getting to cuddle into Toms side for eight hours straight. It held fond memories for the both of you.

“So there you go.” Tom half smiled. “Get a web.”

“You think I should?” You wanted his approval before you went through with anything.

“Yeah. You know how I know it’s the right move?” He raises his eyebrows.

“How?”

“That’s my favorite scene too.” He winked at you and pulled you towards the reception desk.

“Then I’ll do it.” You decided. “Under one condition, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to do it.” You told him.

“Darling, I don’t know the first thing about tattoos.” He warned you.

“I don’t care.” You shook your head. “You were my partner in this and if it’s gonna be on my body forever, I want you to do it. It has to be you.”

“I would be honored, love.” Tom smiled softly. “Just remember how much you love me as your partner when it turns out horrible.”

“That will just add to the charm.” You shrugged it off, feeling confident in your decision.

“Are you sure they’ll let me do it on you?” He wondered as the receptionist came to the desk.

“We’re celebrities. They’ll let us do anything.” You laughed before explaining what you wanted done. Within thirty minutes, you were in a chair with Tom at your side. He was armed with a tattoo gun, bouncing his leg nervously as someone else loaded it with ink.

“I need both hands to do this, so you’ll have to squeeze my knee instead if it hurts.” Tom said sympathetically, wishing he could hold your hand to ease your pain.

“Okay. Try to be gentle.” You braced yourself, already squeezing his knee out of fear.

“Right. I’ll just use the gentle setting on the gun.” Tom replied sarcastically, your laughter replacing your fear.

“Just shut up and do me.” You covered your eyes with your hands and turned away.

“Oh? Someones feeling romantic.” Tom poked fun at your accidental innuendo.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You whined.

“Sure you didn’t, darling. Are you okay to start?” He asked.

“Yeah. Just do it.” You gulped and squeezes your eyes shut as Tom began to freehand a web. There was an actual tattoo artist beside him, instructing him on what to do as he worked. The pain wasn’t as bad as you thought it was, but it didn’t feel great either. You squeezed his knee for an hour straight until you heard the relieving words.

“All done.” Tom said proudly as the buzzing from the gun stopped.

“Is my arm still there?” You asked, still facing away.

“It’s still there, love.” Tom chuckled as he wiped it down. “Do you wanna see it?”

“Yeah.” You beamed as Tom helped you sit up. You excitedly held out your arm. You looked at your tattoo and felt the air get knocked out of your lungs.

“Tom.” You mumbled as you stared at the tattoo.

“Do you like it?” He asked hopefully, staring at your face to read your reaction.

“It’s horrible.” You stared as you gaped at the misshapen web Tom had permanently put on your body. Toms heart stopped when he discovered that you didn’t like it.

“Darling, I’m sorry.” He apologized sincerely. “I told you I wasn’t-“

“I love you.” You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “And I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Really?” He gasped.

“Thank you so much. It’s perfect.” You threw your other arm around him and hugged him tightly as tears of joy streamed down your face.

“I’m glad I could help.” He smiled as he rubbed your back. “I’m definitely going to need a picture of my work.”

“Go ahead. The world deserves to see this masterpiece.” You beamed as Tom took out his phone. He went live on Instagram and held his phone up to his face.

“Guys, Y/n made a really bad decision and let me tattoo her. Wait, how do I flip the camera?” He looked at you for help as you laughed.

“Like this, sweetness.” You tapped his screen twice and held out your arm.

“Okay. Look at this. This is pretty good for my first time.” Tom praised himself as he took your arm and gently twisted it to show off the whole thing.

“I’m in love with it. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You smiled gratefully as Tom panned the camera up to your face.

“The smile on your face right now is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Look at this girl. How cute is she?” Tom gushed as he squished your cheeks with his free hand.

“I’m just so happy. Look at my tattoo!” You happily held your arm out, absolutely in love with what he had done.

“It’s pretty shit.” Tom laughed at his crooked lines.

“Stop it!” You scolded him. “This is my favorite thing in the entire world right now. And forever.”

“I’m glad you like it. Just like how you guys are gonna like our movie.” He managed to turn the camera around to wink.

“You’re gonna love it. I love it and I’ve never seen it.” You came into view as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You heard the girl. Go see our movie.” Tom commanded as he wrapped his free arm around your waist to hold you close.

“Out next week!” You chirped before he shut the camera off. You let a professional wrap the tattoo before you paid and left the shop. Tom held your hand as you walked down the street, his way of making up for not being able to hold it while you got the tattoo.

“Hey, speaking of the movie, we have the premier in a week and I haven’t picked an outfit.” Tom realized as you neared your hotel.

“Really? I picked my dress the day I was cast.” You joked, tugging Tom into the lobby.

“I fully believe you.” He laughed. “What are you wearing?”

“I have a picture. Here.” You handed him your phone as you got into an elevator. Tom looked at the picture of you in a floor length, off the shoulder, royal blue ball gown that you had taken in a fitting room. His jaw immediately dropped at the sight of you as his heart picked up speed.

“You look incredible. Can you send this to me?” He asked sweetly as he looked up from the phone.

“Sure, but it’s not even the whole look.” You laughed shyly as he gawked at you. “I’m gonna have hair, makeup, and heels on the day of the premier. Plus jewelry.”

“You’re forgetting the most important part.” He clicked his tongue.

“What’s that?”

“Me as your arm candy.” Tom winked at you and handed your phone back.

“How could I forget you? My partner.” You took his hand and squeezed it ostentatiously.

“You keep calling me that, and I kind of love it. I think of you as my partner too.” He said shyly as he played with your fingers.

“Then we should match at the premier. We can show everyone our partnership.” You said as the idea came to you.

“You’re wearing blue…”

“So you wear red.” You finished his sentence. “You’ve always looked good in red.”

“Done.” Tom decoded. “I’ll tell my stylist tomorrow.”

“Awesome.” You smiled as you got to your floor.

“Hey, darling?” Tom asked as you stepped off the elevator.

“Yes?” You stopped in the hallway so you could give him your full attention.

“Would you be my date to the premier?” He asked as his lips curved into a smile. You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded before you could form words.

“I would love too.” You told him. His face lit up like a Christmas tree as he rushed at you, picking you up and spinning you around as he hugged you tightly.

“Yes!” He cheered. “Everyones gonna be jealous of me.”

“Alright, alright.” You laughed as he set you down. “Save that energy for the premier.”

“Trust me darling, I will.” Tom grinned as he stood outside his hotel room, directly across from yours.

“Goodnight, idiot.” You rolled your eyes at him as you stood in your doorway.

“Goodnight Princess.” He blew you a kiss, making you groan. You went inside and shut your door, but Tom stayed out for a moment, looking at your door wistfully before going on himself.

“Are you all done?” You asked as you walked into Toms room while putting in your earring. It was the day of the premier and you had gotten ready in separate rooms like a bride and groom.

“Yeah I’m all…oh my God.” His sentence quickly changed course when he saw you. His jaw was slack as he gawkers at you, taking his time in taking you in.

“Do you like it?” A pink tint covered your face when you saw how star struck he was, making you look down shyly.

“What! What?!” Tom was still in awe as he looked you over, unable to believe how good you looked.

“Stop it. You look incredible.” You complimented him, and he did.

“You look so good!” He exclaimed. “Darling, you take my breath away.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself. Red is definitely your color.” You praised as he twirled you under his arm. His deep red suit perfectly complimented his skin tone and made him look extravagant, especially with the glasses he had opted for. Tom rested his hands on your shoulders and looked at you dress with a proud smile.

“I can’t get over you.” He shook his head in disbelief. “The color blue was made just for you. You look ravishing, love. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled as you pulled him into a hug. Neither of you wanted to admit it, but you both knew this was the last time you’d be together in this way. After tonight, the movie would be out and you’d no longer be on the press tour together. Because of this unspoken feat, the hug lingered a little longer than usually.

“You ready?” Tom asked as he rested his chin on your head.

“Ready.”

You walked out onto the red carpet together, hand in hand as the crowd roared. Tom kept one hand on your back as you stopped to pose for the cameras.

“We look like a couple.” He leaned down to say into your ear.

“A couple of besties.” You said without looking at him as you parted his chest. He tightened his grip on your waist as he continued smiling at the cameras.

“I hate you so much for saying that.” He laughed as he held you closer.

“Aw. But I love you.” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The press cheered for you as you made your way down the carpet.

“Let’s do something different poses.” Tom suggested as you fixed your dress.

“Okay. Prom pose has to be first.” You said eagerly as you turned around. Tom wrapped his arms around you from behind and posed like you were going to prom.

“That was so stupid.” He shook his head with laughter as he let go of you.

“Here. Gaze lovingly into my eyes.” You instructed as you turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Why?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion, but he complied.

“So the fans can say “look at the way they look at each other” and swoon.” You laughed as you tugged on the lapel of his jacket. Tom rolled his eyes before placing his other hand on the small of your back and gazing, as you put it, lovingly into your eyes. You put your hand on his cheek to keep his face in place and let the paparazzi have a field day.

You walked a few places down the red carpet before getting into a new pose, this time wrapping your arms around his neck as he kept his arms around your waist.

“We look like the Twilight poster.” You whispered in his ear before smoldering at the press.

“Which one?” Tom chuckled as he looked at you with all the adoration in the world

“All of them.” You told him as you kept your perfectly manicured hand over her heart.

“I want to do the Will Smith pose.” Tom decided, taking a step away from you and opening his arms like he was presenting you. You covered you mouth as you laughed loudly, feeling a warm sense of joy as Tom held his arms out to behold you. You looked at him fondly and blew him a kiss.

“I feel like artwork.” You shouted over the roar of the press.

“You look like it too.” Tom shouted back, holding his hand out for you to take. You happily accepted his hand, letting him twirl you before you spun into his chest. Both laughing happily and only seeing each other, the roar of the crowd disappeared. All you could hear was Tom’s laughter, coming deep from his tummy.

“Stop it.” You shyly hid your face in his neck as he held you tightly. Tom took your chin between his fingers and beamed at you, grinning like a child before resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re my best friend.” He said between his laughter, keeping his eyes shut to block out the rest of the world.

“And you’re mine.” You reached up and gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, looking longingly at him even with his eyes shut.

“Let’s go.” He slipped his hand into yours and pulled you along. “We have more red carpet to dazzle.”

“It’s over.” Tom let out a breath as he plopped on his bed after the premier. “I can’t believe it over.”

You plopped down next to him and both of you stared at the ceiling in silence. You were exhausted from all the screaming fans, interviews and hours on your feet, but you had never been happier. You reached out and took Toms hand which was lying beside yours and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Honestly Tom, this has been a dream with you. You made my experience better than I ever could’ve imagined. I can’t thank you enough.” You told him as you looked to your side to see him. He turned his head to look at you and gave your hand a squeeze.

“You can thank me by keeping me around.” He mumbled. “Getting to know you has been my favorite part of this whole thing, honest to God. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

“I’m sad it’s all coming to an end. I’m gonna miss being with you every day. Eating all our meals together and all that. I loved that.” You spoke softly as you looked down at your hands, trying to hold in tears that came out of nowhere.

“It doesn’t have to end. We can still see each other.” Tom assured you as he propped himself up on his elbow.

“Yeah, but it won’t be the same. You’ll go off and film your next movie and hang out with your newest costar and forget all about me.” You looked up at him sadly. “And yeah, we’ll see each other but it will only be every once in a while. We literally lived together during filming and now I’ll see you every few months. If I’m lucky.”

“Then let’s keep living together.” Tom said as if the idea had been brewing in the back of his mind for a while.

“What?” You lifted your neck a little to get a better look at him.

“I’m serious. Let’s move in together. Who says this ever has to end?” His eyes were hopeful skies with anxious clouds as he waited for your answer. You stared at him a moment as you pondered it, but deep down you knew the answer straight away.

“I don’t want it to.” You mumbled. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You never will.” Tom smiled softly as he brushed a stray hair off of your nose.

“Good.” You stated firmly. “Then let’s move in together to make sure of it.”

“Alright.” He left out a happy sigh and fell on his back. “We can start looking for a flat tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You covered your grin and turned away, not wanting him to see how happy it made you that he felt the same connection you did.

“All the fans are saying we look like a couple.” Tom said suddenly, handing you his phone that was open to twitter. The ship name your fans had coined for you and Tom was number one on trending, Tom was number two, and you were number three. Taking his phone in your hands, you scrolled through a few of the many rows of tweets saying you and Tom made, would make, or were a perfect couple. You couldn’t help but smiling seeing that millions of people wanted you to date your best friend.

“Oh my goodness.” You chuckled as you handed his phone back. “That’s another weird thing. I’m so used to kissing you and acting like I’m your girlfriend from filming. I have to stop myself from being all over you when I see you. I guess I’m still not fully out of character.”

“I have a pretty simple solution for that.” Tom quipped, clicking his phone off and turned on his side to look at you.

“Tell me.” You smirked as you rolled on your side as well.

“You wouldn’t have to stop yourself from being all over me if you…” Tom trailed off and squeezed his eyes shut like he lost his nerve.

“If I what?” You wondered, putting your hand over his to reassure him.

“If you were my girlfriend.” He spoke timidly. “Who says our love has to be limited to the screen?”

“Are you asking me out, Holland?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry if I misread the moment.” His face fell when he thought you didn’t feel the same. “ I thought we-“

You didn’t let him finish, leaning forward and kissing him instead. A hesitant hand molded against your hip as he kissed you back, smiling against your lips until you pulled away.

“You thought right.” You laughed breathlessly. “Whether we’re in front of a camera or not, I want to be your girlfriend.”

Tag List 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort @foreverxholland @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker i @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @kickingn-ames @purefluffykiwi @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @anapocalypseinmymind @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @cookiemonstermusic258 @maybemona @young-romanoff @alexxcorona113 @spidey-reids-2003 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey @im-still-tryin-to-find-it @big-galaxy-chaos @pandaxnienke @itstaskeen

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfic #tom holland friends to lovers #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #marvel #spiderman

2K notes · View notes

hawkeyes-chicklet · 2 years

Text

Day 8 - alternate universe

"Come on boy, time for a walk to work!" A tall, blonde man shook a purple leash and that sound was immediately followed by paws in the floor. Lucky, the man's golden retriever was - like every dog - always in for walks. Or food. Or being petted.

The man named Clint took the dog outside and they began to walk their usual round. They greeted every neighbour and dog they came across. They were quite popular here. Clint had bought a whole apartment complex and let the people live there rent free, he even got rid of the Russians who terrorised the quarter. But that was another story.

Clint was a millionaire but lived a simple live in this more or less poor neighbourhood. He had been raised here, so he stayed. Very few people knew about his money. He was even a little uncomfortable with it. He never had money when he was young so he was very surprised as he got the message he had a incredible rich uncle that has passed and gave all the money to him.

Clint was working as a self defense instructor in a gym near his home and that was why he could get feet to feet with the Russians. His money was well invested and he could almost live from the pay rent. After he got rich, he changed nothing. But he enjoyed the fact that he didn't need to think about how to stay over water until the next payday. He still worked at the gym, hoding his classes.

Luckily, Clint was able to bring Lucky to work. He could stay on a blanket with his favourite toys and recept the gym members. Clint left the dog on the front desk and got dressed. The gym was almost empty and he was in a good mood.

"There is a new member, she insisted that you do her personal training today", Zeke; Clints boss; told him. "Alright." "She's hot!" Clint sighed. "Every woman you see is hot… where is she?" Zeke pointed on a slim woman with a red ponytail. She was running on a treadmill and they only saw her from behind. Zeke blinked at him as Clint got going.

With a smile on his lips he approached the woman. As he saw her face, his jaw almost dropped. Damn! She was hot! And cute! He couldn't help but stare.

"Can I help you?!", she asked, visibly confused and stopped running. Green eyes mustered him. "Oh… hrm.. I'm sorry, I'm Clint. Your trainer?" "Yeah. Hi. I've asked for you. Nice to meet you. Natasha!" They shook hands and did it longer then it had to be. Clint couldn't take his eyes off of her.

She grabbed a towel and wiped her face. "I'm interested in personal lessons in self defence. And I heard you are the best around here." Clint smiled: "I'm good. Are you new in the quarter? It's good if you can defend yourself even if it had been a lot more quiet lately." "Yeah, just moved here. I work at a cocktail bar at the moment." Clints brain had a short circuit and he sang: "Don't you want me baby…?" "What?" "You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I met you… you know, Human League? Oh, god, that was so bad and embarrassing, sorry", Clint let his head hang low. "Do you try to hit on me?", she smiled "Is it working?", Clint asked and rubbed his head. Natasha punched his upper arm and turned to walk to the mats "If training is going good, why not? I like you. You're funny!"

#clint barton #hawkeye #natasha romanoff #clintasha #black widow #lucky the pizza dog #clintasha advent 2021 #fanfic #Day 8 #alternate au

15 notes · View notes

pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (6)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters: Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START / PREV / NEXT

As predicted, the day following the seal’s application is miserable. His chest is tight with almost anxiety, pins and needles run up and down his arms making his skin itch, and he is increasingly lethargic. All symptoms of a chakra imbalance and to be expected when one’s normal chakra replacement rate was thrown out. The sensations would pass once his body adjusted as they had with his sharingan.

He is eating three square meals a day, doing the bare minimum when it came to exercise routines and avoiding excess chakra use. It had been literal years since he had had this much bed rest. If he were ever going to slap a chakra collecting seal on himself, this was a perfect time. Okay, so maybe he should have steadily increased the chakra drain over the course of a few weeks for a smoother adjustment period. Hindsight and all that.

What mattered was that he would be fine, and he just had to wait it out. Bright side? No one had commented on the seal yet. Oh, he has definitely noticed serval people throwing the odd confused frown at his shoulder, but that was as far as anyone had gone in acknowledging it. His oh so clever strategy of acting like nothing was wrong worked so much better when he wasn’t surrounded by other shinobi and medic-nin.

“Your blood pressure is still too high. Are you sure you haven’t been experiencing any additional fatigue or other symptoms? Is something about the hospital causing additional stress? If there is something wrong, we should work on strategies to fix the problem.”

Well… it worked on everyone who wasn’t Wada. The man was irritatingly persistent in his doctoring. Apparently, the pressure of adjusting to an increased chakra drain wasn’t doing his body any favours.

“Maybe it’s a part of my quirk. High regeneration. High blood pressure.” Kakashi shrugs loosely not bothering to look up from HEROES and HEROINES May Issue. Unlike his previous reading material, people gave him odd looks when they saw him reading these magazines which immediately upped their entertainment value 100-fold.

Wada undoes the compression sleeve he had been using to measure Kakashi’s blood pressure, lecturing as he goes, “From what I can tell your cells produce more energy-rich molecules, ATP, NADH, then is typical, increasing cellular functions. Where your cells are getting the energy to produce these molecules, I have no idea seeing as you eat about the same amount as any baseline human. What I can safely say is that it should not influence your blood pressure. If anything, your blood pressure should be a bit lower than average. Now don’t dodge the question.”

He pauses, waiting for Kakashi to cave and suddenly confess. Kakashi, an old hat at dodging medical questions, continues reading unperturbed.

“I’ve been at this for over 30 years. An attack like the one you suffered is understandably traumatic, not to mention the stress of severe amnesia. I’m sure, whatever is bothering you, I’ve heard it before.”

Kakashi very much doubts that. “I feel fine.”

Wada huffs, unconvinced, “Young men. You all think that admitting you have a problem is a sign of weakness. High blood pressure can damage your heart and lead to problems later in life so finding the cause is important.” Good thing a shinobi life spans tended to max out around 30. The odds of him making it to an age where he’d have to worry about the long-term effects of anything were pretty low. He doesn’t voice this opinion, continuing to read.

Wada continues talking with greater gusto, “No matter, I’ll prescribe you something for stress hopefully that’ll help with your blood pressure. However, this is no replacement for healthy habits both physical and mental. You should consider professional therapy.”

Kakashi snorts. Yeah, that sounds about right.

“Oh, you think that’s funny do you,” Wada makes to grab HEROES and HEROIENS and he lets the doctor pull the magazine free from his hand. It gives him a good view of the man’s irate expression.

“No, of course not.” Kakashi attempts to placate and gets a light smack over the head with said magazine for his troubles.

“There is no shame in pursuing a healthy mind!”

“Weren’t we going to test my quirk today?” He complains to derail the current line of questioning.

“I have half a mind to put it off and have you rest another week,” is threatened before Wada’s stern expression relaxes, “Lucky for you, I’ve booked you into serval tests that can’t be rescheduled.”

Kakashi breaths out dramatically. He thinks Wada might have made a good medic-nin if he had lived in Konoha. Sure, he is a little too trusting, but he was also not above pestering his patients into taking better care of themselves. Sakura would approve.

The doctor, with the assistance of an attending nurse he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, helps Kakashi out of his bed and into a wheelchair, ignoring his protests about his leg being all but healed.

“You’re to avoid putting weight on it until you start physical therapy,” Wada snaps at his continued complaints, “You’ll need to be careful, extended bed rest and surgery can leave your muscles weakened. Also, leave that magazine behind. You’re doing eye tests when do you think you’ll have time to read!”

Kakashi doesn’t push the matter further, resigning himself to being wheeled down the hospital halls like the invalid he was pretending to be. It is not like Wada knew about his frequent excursions to the roof or the fact that he has been running through strengthening exercises on his own time for several weeks now. Best he keeps that information to himself.

Partway down the hall, he pulls out HEROES and HEROIENS from where he had slipped it into his shirt, enjoying Wada’s exasperated expression. Of course, he stops reading when the doctor threatens to start lecturing again. The man could definitely talk when given the chance.

Wada and the nurse take wheel him to a set of double-door elevators which take them down several floors below the ground level. The hallway they exit of a mirror of every other hospital hallway. Grey and white walls, pale blue lino floor and bright fluorescent overhead lights. The only difference is that this hallway is lined with heavy-looking metal doors. From snooping through patient files, he knows that all quirk tests are carried out in specially designated underground ‘safety rooms.’ That doesn't make him any more thrilled about being several stories underground. It cut down on his escape roots.

“These are some of the more secure recovery wards in the hospital,” Wada explains as their little group stops at a small reception desk where the doctor taps away at a computer screen, “they’re mostly for treating patients with unstable quirks.” Kakashi maintains a neutral expression, accepting the explanation.

Wada wheels him up to a steel door, swiping his ID card which also doubled as a key to many areas of the hospital. The heavy door is automated and slides open. A lot of the doors in the hospital operate this way and always made sneaking around slightly more troublesome.

Inside walls and floor are plain white and there is an odd number of tables and chairs pushed to one side out of the way. Everything stinks of disinfectant. On the far wall is a single solitary painting of a tree in a field, the only splash of colour in an otherwise depressingly sparse room. A poor attempt at living up the space. The opposite wall sports a rectangular, reflective surface which was probably some sort of observation booth. Well, if being underground hadn’t put him on edge, this obvious confinement room definitely did the job. Kakashi eyes the space. Worse comes to worst, he could use the kamui and remove the adjoining hallway wall then climb his way out through the elevator shaft. There are only two other people in the room with him and one woman at the reception desk, all were most likely unenhanced with quirks unsuited to combat, easily removed. He doesn’t let his body language reflect his unease. He is just a little on edge because the new seal is messing with his body’s natural homeostasis. If this is a trap there would have been other signs of deception before now.

“Yes, I know it might seem like a whole lot of fuss just to run through a few flashcards,” Wada comments, oblivious to Kakashi’s poor mood. He waves to his assisting nurse who wheels over and lowers one of the metallic tables so Kakashi doesn’t have to move from his wheelchair. “But it’s a standard safety procedure when an unknown quirk is involved. Trust me, this is a lot easier than travelling to an external testing range.”

Wada stops to give Kakashi a once over, frowning, “How much do you know about your quirk sub-type?”

Kakashi shrugs, “Nothing much.”

“Ah,” The doctor’s frown grows, and he grimaces, “Of course you don’t.” A sigh.

“Typically, ocular quirks will act to enhanced sight in some way or improve base level memorisation and recall ability. It is also common to have a replicating function, allowing the user to produce some sort of copy of things they see. In rarer cases, ocular quirks result in precognitive abilities.” Wada explanation falters, “They can also have a line-of-sight emitter effect, such as laser vision, optical blasts, a few instances of mind control and other mental effects. These can also be incredibly dangerous if the user isn’t in control. There have even been instances where whole buildings have been levelled.”

“I see.” He supposes Wada's irritation at this private 'quirk' testing made a bit more sense. A doctor faced with an unknown and possibly dangerous ability would be annoyed if said patient went about experimenting without taking safety precautions.

“I should have checked whether you knew the dangers instead of just assuming. Apologies. That is my own error.”

He peers at Kakashi, almost guilty now, “and you don’t have a phone either so there would have been no way for you to research quirks yourself.”

“Ah,” Kakashi rubs the back of his head not likening how torn up the other man seems to be seeing as Kakashi had ever been in any real danger. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassures.

His reassurances land flat, the doctor still frowning, “I’ll see if I can get you access to the internet somehow.”

Privately, Kakashi adds 'research' to the list of functions ‘phones’ apparently provided and 'internet' to his growing list of terms to investigate.

Wada sighs again. “Regardless, let’s get these tests done first.” He places a thick folder labelled National Standard for Registration: Kit Type 3 alongside one of those portable keyboard-less computers the doctors tended to carry around. “Hold on, been a while since I’ve done one of these. Need to find the rights files. Ah, here we go. First, these rooms are monitored, and all tests are recorded. The data collected is confidential, accessible only to the patient and physician unless doing so causes the patent harm. Information regarding quirk function and use is shared with the Registry Office. You have a right to stop testing at any point. You got that?”

Kakashi grunts, his already poor mood souring further. He is not sure he wants the hospital - or anyone - keeping records of anything sharingan related.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Wada continues unperturbed, a testament to his serval weeks of trying to doctor Kakashi, “remember to let me know if you’re experiencing any discomfort. Don’t want you busting anymore blood vessels.

Kakashi lets out a tired breath, “Sure.” The sooner they left this room the better.

“We’ll test memory and vision first to compare to your baseline, then we’ll run through the replication and precognitive tests just in case.”

The nurse, who had been on the opposite side of the room waves, “All ready over here.” There is now a large poster with letters of varying sizes hung on the wall. He recognises the chart from his previous eye tests.

“Okay, let’s start with just uncovering it. Make sure you’re looking away from me as a precaution.”

Kakashi resists rolling his non- sharingan eye at the obvious instruction, shifting his attention to the poster on the wall. He flips his padded eyepatch up with his index finger so it partially rests on his forehead. All the letters, no matter the size, immediately snap into sharp focus. Nothing spontaneously combusts under his gaze. When he glances at the painting of the tree, he can now see a lack of brush texture, suggesting that it wasn’t a painting but a print of some sort. With that useless information now forever etched into his memory, he turns back to examine at Wada.

The sharingan picks out all the wrinkles and pores lining the older face. It focuses in on minuscule muscle movements as the man’s expression shifts from professional and accommodating to curious. The doctor’s fingers twitch ever so slightly over his computer. Most likely an unconscious habit. The man’s breath is slightly uneven like his chest can’t smoothly expand, suggesting some sort of lung problem. A past smoking habit perhaps? Nothing threatening is revealed.

“Doctor.” Kakashi prompts when Wada spends a little too long staring back at him. The sharingun did have a weak hypnotic effect, encouraging extended eye contact to help catch targets in genjutsu. Kakashi rarely uncovered his eye in the presence of civilians so he doesn’t know if the effect is more pronounced or if Wada is just curious.

Wada blinks, “Well…I certainly see where the ‘wheel’ description comes from.” He spends a second more staring then turns to start writing notes and tapping away at his computer screen. “I wonder if those spinning tomoe are purely cosmetic or if they have some other function because they are certainly fascinating to look at. There is also faint bioluminescence to the eye which is a common feature of ocular quirks…”

Honestly, the blatant eye contact is weird. Even his closest allies tended to avoid looking at his sharingan out of habit - expect for Naruto who was an outlier in almost everything - for understandable reasons. He thinks the people here would also exercise caution if an ocular abilities included mind control or exploding a person through eye contact. But no, Wada just goes right ahead and stares. A few seconds later and the unnamed nurse is also looking curiously at his eye. … …

Aside from redoing a standard eye exam, Kakashi runs through a marathon of flashcards to test both his memory and then precognitive abilities. The tests are done with lights on then in the dark and Kakashi is given a perfect 20/20 and an enhancement score of ‘15 grades above average’ for both. There are also several pages worth of words and numbers in progressively complex arrangements to test his information retention. Of course, everything is easily remembered with the sharingun active.

“Well, it seems to give general across the board vision enhancement alongside perfect recall and retention,” Wada finally concludes as he records all Kakashi’s results, “Of course, we’ll have to re-test retention in a few days so see if the information degrades over an extended period and we don’t know whether your quirk effects your long distance eyesight, but, for now, this appears to be all. The link between your quirked eye and the regenerative side-effect is still unknown. Odd that we couldn’t trigger any ‘copy’ function considering the quirks name though ‘copy’ could also be a reference to memorisation. If any other features do reveal themselves make sure you alert a medical professional.”

… …

Kakashi despises the process of getting an MRI with a heated passion. He hates having to lie prone in a loud confined space. It is the height of discomfort, making him tense up and clench his jaw. It is only the fact that Kakashi had researched and mentally prepared himself for the experience that stops him from accidentally snapping someone’s neck.

“We’ll have the results back in a few days,” Wada informs once the trying ordeal is over with, “From there we’ll update the Registry so you’re properly in the system. Speaking of which, have you made any progress on remembering a surname? I need something for the forms.”

“Hatake,” he grunts, too irritated to bother evading - he just wants to return to his room and wait out the side effects of his seal in peace- the question like he had every other time the man asked, “I think I prefer Kakashi though.”

It wasn’t like the name meant anything here and, who knows, maybe someone would come looking for him. This way they would have a trail to follow.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #naruto #boku no academia #CrossOver #kakshi hatake #dimension travel AU #fanfiction #my hero academia #more hospital stuff #probably a bunch of medical inaccuracies #quirk biology #quirk stuff #world building

40 notes · View notes

mxpseudonym · 4 years

Text

Just Good Business

Pairing: Tommy x Reader

Reader Gender Expression: She/Her pronouns, feminine clothing descriptions

Summary: You are forced to marry Tommy Shelby, but that doesn’t mean you have to make things easy for him.

Length: 1671 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Mentions of forced marriage. Otherwise Bad bitch, chaotic energy and some justified (non violent) rage.

A/N: This was very fun to write!

Also there’s going to be a NSFW part II because the tension? The sheer sexual tension?? Yeah, it needs to happen.

Part II

Being a bit impossible to pin down is what you're known for, and you liked that. It was your grandmother who taught you how to be difficult.

When they try to smooth your edges, rip the sandpaper.

You didn't have a natural place in polite society, your family knew this. But your father wasn't going to let you into the family business, either. So he took your brother, your imbecile of a brother, and let him lead instead. Two years later, you're sitting at a dinner table in a fancy restaurant with your parents, your brother who can't look you in the eye, and two gangsters from Birmingham. You could tell they were gangsters because they smelled like new money, and had guns under their blazers. One was an older woman Polly Shelby, and the other was her nephew, Thomas Shelby.

You thought it was any other business meeting, but your brother was fidgeting the way he did when you were younger, and he stole your necklace and broke it but didn't want to tell you. He was hiding something big. Luckily for him and unluckily for you, it quickly became abundantly clear.

"Let's get right to it, we'll settle the debt, put in an accountant who will manage to unfuck you, and take 45% of the resulting profit," Tommy Shelby laid the cards on the table. Your face contorted in confusion. What debt?

"Alright, it's done," your father said, a quiver in his voice along with relief.

"What? That's a terrible bargain," you scoffed. The way your mother turned away, her eyes tearing up, and your brother practically quivering beside you. You met the eyes of Polly Shelby, and something about them told you to brace yourself.

"Is your daughter still upholding the marriage to our dear Thomas?" Polly asked. For a moment, you thought you blacked out. For a moment, you thought you'd forgotten you had a sister. For a moment, you assumed it wasn't the 1920's but the 17-fucking-40's where you may have come with some livestock as well.

"So this is it, huh? This is why you let me go to Paris with my friends last week, Mum? And why Dad said he'd buy me a car? And why Graham won't stop fucking fidgeting?" You asked, looking to your brother who just grimaced at you. There was no out, and you knew it.

"Don't make a scene, y/n," your father told you, tired already as if he'd put up some great fight.

"Well? Are we on?" Polly got us back on track. "I'll need to hear it from her." You looked down at your handbag until you saw the emerald color and not a blinding red.

"You'll take 10% of the resulting profits," you finally said. If you were getting given away, it was going to be at least a good deal.

"40," the deep, Brummie voice of Thomas Shelby came to the party. Your eyes flicked up to meet his icy blue ones.

"12."

"35."

"15."

"33%, and you can go to Paris as much as you'd like," he said his final offer with a smirk. If you weren't so fueled by anger, you'd appreciate it.

"18%, I go to Paris as much as I want, and I won't make your life a living hell. Maybe I'll even kiss you goodbye in the morning, my love," you said in the most charming voice you could muster, which wasn't very. He'd never tell you that's when he knew he liked you, but he didn't have to. You landed on an even 25%. You could go to Paris, he'd get his morning goodbye kiss and some peace from time to time, and you'd get a car that was better than anything your father had planned. You shook on it yourself.

"Welcome to the Shelby's," Polly said when she grasped your hand. You grabbed your bag and turned to Tommy.

"If the car's not a Hispano-Suiza, 2% of that profit comes directly to me," you warned him before walking away.

You should've fucking known that it would be at least partially an adventure. At first, you were mad. You allowed yourself to be easily swayed in the wedding planning, saying yes to the most frivolous things.

"500 bloody pounds for a dress you'll wear once?!" Tommy all but shouted and threw down the receipt on the desk of his office. You sat unnerved in the seat in front of him.

"Once, on the most important day of my life," you said, giving a brief pout and nothing else. Tommy rubbed his chin as he went to refill his glass of whiskey.

"Stubborn, reckless, outlandish even. Sure, you're all of those things. But spoiled? That's a surprise," he said, almost disappointed. You rolled your eyes at his little act.

"Come off it, Shelby. I have very little in this world, least of all a family I can trust. Everything I do have is about to belong to you because I'm a woman with nothing but familial debt. So don't stand there and lecture me about the rights and wrongs of acting out, Thomas. You and my father only listen to money." You stood and were halfway to the door when Tommy blocked your way.

"You've threatened to run away if you had to live with your parents, so we've put you in a grand apartment in London. You have your parties there with all your friends. You spend all the money you'd like and more. When will it end?" He asked. You wondered if he actually cared about the stability of your coping mechanisms, or about you. His hand came up to brush your waist. It was all you needed to come back to your senses. You took a breath and looked up at him.

"Until I'm satisfied," You decided.

Polly was something between annoyed and amused at you. You were loud, as subtle as a cannon, and possibly more stubborn than her nephew. There wasn't a week that went by where Tommy wasn't talking about something you'd done.

"Tommy, have you tried going along with something she says?" Polly suggested one day when you'd called not finding a proper wedding venue an "emergency." Tommy leaned back in thought, then picked up the phone. Perhaps his aunt was right... like usual.

"If this is kidnap, it's very ironic," you said as you stumbled along the gravel. Your ridiculous fiancé had taken you to an undisclosed location. Now, the only thing guiding you was Tommy, whose hand was over your eyes.

"It's not a kidnapping. On the contrary, I've come to take you home," Tommy said before his hand lifted. You blinked the blur away to see a large house. Well, let's call a spade a spade. It was a mansion if you'd ever seen one.

"Holy hell," you breathed.

"This is Arrow House, Ms. y/l/n. It's got everything you could need and hopefully what you want. Here's a map." He pulled a thick piece of paper from his coat pocket. "Let me know if I've missed anything."

Crying wasn't in your repertoire. Even the events of the past few months hadn't done you in. But, you made an exception and allowed a few to leak while you looked around. You could feel your betrothed’s eyes watching you take it all in, but it didn't matter when the home was breathtaking. When you came back to the foyer, you couldn't help but tweak an eyebrow at Tommy.

"Have you got a crush on me, Shelby?" You asked, or accused rather. He just chuckled and grabbed your hand, leading you towards the door.

"Let's go see the stables."

The wedding was grander than was even sensible. Tommy didn't know how you forged the guest list or who most of these people were, but you told him if he helped you hang drapes, you'd explain your itemized list. Now that was a sight to see. You could only stand it for a bit and did what you usually did at parties. You found quiet place on a balcony overlooking the wedding reception turned memorable party that spilled into the large venue's gardens.

"Well, we've done it, Mrs. Shelby," Tommy said, walking up from behind you with two champagne glasses. You took one with a broad smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. I'd have to agree."

"Are you having a good time?"

"Sure, are you? This is your wedding gift," you said, motioning to the crowds.

"And how is that?" He looked over the railing with you. You started pointing people out.

"Over there is the Commissioner and his wife's sister. London police chief over there with his mistress. Lady Catherine Wilcox, one of the most influential socialites in the country, is by the fountain. She's been eyeing Arthur all night too. And so on." You nodded triumphantly. "At those parties I was having in London, I only said good things about you, which is annoying to admit but here we are. Thomas Shelby, your wedding is your introduction to the upper echelon society." He turned and leaned against the railing, and you followed his lead.

"I guess I owe you a thank you," he said.

"I’d say so. You’re on several guest lists and incredibly important customer lists now.” You cupped your ear and leaned closer. “Let's hear it.”

"Thank you, y/n." He rolled his eyes, then looked at you with a sigh. "Are you happy, then?" He asked.

"Better, I'm satisfied."

With a clink of your glasses, your relationship could begin. And when Tommy leaned in to kiss you, you didn't pull away.

"This seems like a crush," were your first words when you parted.

"You're the one who made us late to the ceremony," he pointed out.

"No one even noticed."

"I think they did," he begged to differ.

"You weren't supposed to come to find me before the wedding. It's bad luck," you tsked Tommy, taking another sip of the bubbling drink, which did nothing to help the heat creeping up your neck.

"Just had to make sure you didn't run off." He shrugged but moved closer to whisper in your ear. "And I believe, Mrs. Shelby, the dress wasn't even on yet."

"Don't get your hopes up, it meant nothing." You waved it away, not convinced or convincing. Tommy nodded then kissed you again.

"Right, right. It's just good business."

Tommy Tag List: @soleil-dor

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby fic

602 notes · View notes

matildaofoz · 4 years

Text

Memento Mori Pt. 2 (Michael Langdon x Fem!Death!Reader)

Summary: After having sent Michael on his merry way to The Church of Satan, Death believes it's time to reveal herself before Jeff and Mutt can screw up the one good plan they came up with between them with their last remaining brain cell.

°°°

Your black stiletto heals clicked along the shiny white floors in the entry hall of Kineros Robotics, your equally black cape dress swished with every calculated step you took. What could you say, you loved the color.

It had been incredibly easy to enter the building and make it past the security guards. You didn't even have to slip into their minds, they were so entranced by your outward appearance alone, eating up your words while your invisible hands logged a private meeting at the same time Jeff and Mutt were meeting with Michael into the system.

You were so incredibly seductive to mere mortals, you mused, one corner of your lip quirking upward. Admittedly, the form you chose was nothing short of show-stopping. The (Y/C/H) glossy hair and (Y/C/E) eyes, paired with a feminine figure, graceful valleys and hills only accentuated by the form fitting dress you were currently wearing was your favorite out of all them. You glanced sideways at yourself in one of the countless full floor glass panes along the corridor as you made your way to the reception. You looked so wonderfully alive and the paradox wasn't lost on you.

You turned the corner and laid eyes on the figure sitting in front of a desk, devoid of any individualism and even you couldn't shove the proverbial stick up her backside further if you tried. Your gaze leveled at the red-haired woman, you approached the podium she resided on, coming to stand right at the edge of the table. She sensed you before she saw you, yet she refused to look up from whatever menial task she was currently engrossed in.

You remained silent, looming over her, still as stone. In a fight of wills, you always won. She finally glanced up over sickeningly purple rimmed glasses and took you in.

"Who are you and how did you get up here?" her voice condescending as she mustered you. You let her eyes glide over your black ensemble, baring teeth disguised as a bright smile.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Nutter and Mr. Pfister," you replied matter-of-fact. The irony of their names wasn't lost on you.

"No, you don't. I am in charge of all their appointments and I would have remembered you," she countered, distaste on her tongue.

"Oh, but I do. The reason you weren't made aware is because it's...well, classified," you retorted punctuating the last word, slowly but surely losing your patience with the woman. You watched as her nostrils flared ever so slightly at the remark. It was too easy to rile somebody like her up. Underachieving, overzealous and desperate to be taken seriously.

"Do check your calendar. I'm sure you'll find it," you encouraged her, now smiling coyly.

With a huff, she dragged her mouse on the screen to open the calendar. A moment of confusion flitted across her face that quickly passed to anger and finally trepidation. She cleared her throat in a desperate attempt to compose herself.

"Y-yes...you are right. Ms. (Y/L/N)?" she asked, suddenly so unsure of herself. If that was all it took to shake her tough exterior, there was little hope. Quicker than you had expected, she stood, producing a cane from behind her chair.

"Please, follow me," she said, her back rigid and it wasn't from her scoliosis that you could make out beneath her pressed blazer but embarrassment.

"Lead the way," you replied, motioning her to walk in front of you with a cocked eyebrow and a smile. If only she knew who she was sassing a moment earlier. Time and place you, reminded yourself as there were more pressing matters at hand. The impending apocalypse to be exact.

"Oh, before I forget, what's your name? I didn't catch it earlier," you inquired, walking a few steps behind her, hands clasped loosely behind your back as you sauntered down the long hallway.

"I-I never told you. I am Ms. Venable," she replied, her cane missing a beat at the question. She stopped in her tracks at the fault, clearly becoming more and more flustered by your presence. Good, you thought. She may not know it, but she could feel it.

"I think I can take it from here, it's the door on the right I presume?" you asked, stopping but a foot behind her. You may have been a little shorter than her in this human form, yet your presence towered over her, like an impending thunderstorm about to break.

"Y-yes, that's the one,"she confirmed, turning around to face you. There it was, clear as day on her face. The hint of recognition. Fear crept up her arms. She didn't know why she felt it, yet you did. You had met her before, caressed her cheek with invisible fingers when she was barely 12 years old, after the third operation to fix her spine left her flat- lining on the operating table. In that state between life and death she had seen your true form and she recognized it now in a dark crevice of her mind.

"Thank you, Ms. Venable, you are too kind. I can take it from here," you chided, your eyes looking past hers and into her soul. You wouldn't claim it today, no, that day way still a ways off but you enjoyed seeing it under these circumstances nonetheless.

Wordlessly she past you, her cane shaking slightly as she stalked off back to her throne. You felt the tears prick at her eyes.

“They've been waiting for the Antichrist. You just tell them what you want and when you want it and they have to do it. They're basically like your army, dude," you heard one of the men who didn't yet know they had an impromptu meeting with you, exclaim.

You walked closer to the big glass doors, listening.

"Well what am I supposed to do with them? If magic wasn't enough to bring around the end times-“ Michael began but Mutt interrupted him.

"No, no,no ,no you don't need magic to destroy the world bro, not when you have science,“ he explained gleefully.

"And humanity," Jeff intercepted. "People suck. They're selfish and short-sighted, all anyone cares about is immediate gratification,“ Jeff continued, snorting a line of cocaine to enunciate his point. All you could do was roll your eyes. These two were so laughable cliché and couldn't help but scoff as you overheard that last tidbit of their conversation. Dumb and dumber weren't ideal but despite their coked-out brains, they had actually managed to come up with a half decent plan. Michael at the head of the Cooperative would give him disposal of everything necessary. Deciding to make your presence known, you waltzed through the open doors, clapping slowly as you walked down the steps.

"Great job boys, you really outdid yourselves. Who would've thought two snow ploughs like you even have enough brain cells left to remember how to breathe, let alone come up with a half decent plan. I'm impressed."

At your footsteps, Jeff and Mutt had perked up, alarm in their face, looking from you, to each other and to Michael who still sat leaned back in his chair with his back to you.

“Who the fuck are you?" Mutt said, a scowl on his face at the insult, glancing at Jeff who looked just as perplexed at you showing up in their lab uninvited. You came to stand beside Michael's chair, your close proximity making him look up.

"Consider me...a stakeholder," you replied matter-of-factly, your fingers grazing the beveled glass edge of the table.

"You're no stakeholder. We own the entire company down to the last urine cake'" Jeff shot back with a shit-eating grin.

“Fucking right on, bro!” Mutt yelled, fist bumping the blonde.

"Not in your abysmally piss-poor sex-doll workshop disguised as a robotics company," you scoffed, disgust in your voice. Their shoulders slumped at your clap-back.

"The Apocalypse." You looked down at Michael then, winking. He seemed less confused about why you were here and more with what you where. You could feel him trying to slither into your mind, barely scratching at the surface, a mere tickle. He had so much to learn. With a flick, you shoved him off. His eyes narrowed then, clearly not used to somebody beating him at his own game.

“Who are you?” he asked low.

“Excellent question!” you answered him, walking around the back of his chair to place your hands on the backrest. Effortlessly, you swiveled him around to face you, as you began to pace.

"How about we make this fun, a riddle perhaps?" you mused looking down at your perfectly manicured nails as you stopped in the middle of the lab, a saccharine smile on your lips.

"I am alive yet to not breathe. I am ancient yet seductive to all men. You fear me and yet you crave me in your darkest hour. I am inevitable."

Your words hung in the air and you watched their faces, the cogs turning inside their heads. Michael watched you, his icy blue eyes searching your (Y/E/C) ones. Play along, you sing-sang mentally, staring him down with a mischievous glint.

"Thanos...You're Thanos?" Jeff muttered incredulously after a while and looked at Mutt for confirmation and the little stare-off between you and Michael was broken. Your smile dropped, your eyes snapping to the blonde muppet with a deadpan expression. What had you expected from somebody with a haircut like his. Clearly too much.

"Think again, peabrain," you retorted. The lights in the room began to flicker, the halogen bulb directly above you cracking, threatening to explode. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to compose yourself.

Jeff gulped audibly at your display and began furiously whispering with Mutt behind his hand, both of them wracking their brain for the obvious solution. Definitely too much coke, you thought.

“Death,” Michael said and solved your little riddle with a satisfied smirk, eyes lit up. Smart boy, you praised him, unspoken. A tiny blush crept up to bloom over his marvelous cheekbones at your words of praise. Over the past couple of months he had matured, the last remaining fat in his cheeks dissolving to give way to chiseled features. He was beautiful, you had to admit but then again, he was the son of Lucifer. You'd expected nothing short of awe-inspiring.

“It wasn't hard,” he remarked, the smirk spreading over his plump lips as he lent back in the chair, knees falling outward. Man-spreading, were we, you chuckled at his cocky display. He still had so much to learn.

“So clever, hmm?” you lulled, striding up to him to stand between his knees in a blink. Michael didn't flinch at your sudden proximity.

“Perhaps a little too much for your own good, boy wonder,” you berated, bending at the waist to whisper in his ear, sending chills flitting down his spine. You lifted you hand from behind your back, your index finger coming to rest under his angular chin, tilting it up so he would look you in the eyes, bare inches from his. Jeff and Mutt, utterly flabbergasted on the other side of the table completely forgotten by both you and him.

“I think it's high time we had a little chat. After all, the last time we met, you weren't in the best shape, crying for daddy dereast on the cold forest floor, were you now?” Michael's eyes widened at your words, finally recognizing your aura from the woods. He wasn't sure what he had felt that day the visions came, ultimately leading him to the Church of Satan. He was taken aback momentarily, drawing in a deep breath, bewildered, then his face morphed into a scowl at your revelation. How dare you make him look weak in front of his followers.

“Now, now, Michael. You'll get wrinkles and you're far too pretty for that,” you remarked, looking down at him through thick lashes, your fingers smoothing over the deep lines furrowed between his brows. So soft. He really was a sight to behold, all riled up and flustered. You stood back up, smoothing over your skirt.

“I don't know about you but all this talk about the apocalypse has me positively starving. Let's continue this over dinner, shall we?” you asked without waiting for an awsner from him and sauntered over to the glass doors, your hand coming to rest on the handle as you waited, patiently, yet again, for Michael to catch on.

“Go, dude! You heard the Lady...errr Death,” Jeff urged Michael, who was taken aback by your brazen display of power. He didn't like it when people made him look weak and yet he needed to know more about you and why you were in the woods that day.

Curiousity finally killed the cat and he stood to walk up to you.

“Fine. But you owe me awsners,” he bit, hands clenched at his sides. You laughed, loud.

“I don't owe you jack shit sweety, but keep telling yourself that. Now get a move one, we are on the clock.” Without looking back at the blonde antichrist, you walked out the door, spring in your step, your heels clicking on the ground in staccato. Michael turned to look back at the two men briefly, their mouths agape before huffing and jogging after you.

°°°

Tag list:

@sexwon131 @leatherduncan @rocketgirl2410

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #michael langdon #ahs apocalypse

48 notes · View notes

jasmine2042003 · 4 years

Text

Beware the Spirits of the Vengeful ~ pt 2

So the reception of the first chapter was pretty good so I started writing the second part! I am hoping to drag this out as long as I can, hopefully making it a ten to twenty part series... Anyway, I hope you enjoy! xxx

part 1 /

_________________________

Ten Years Ago~

3rd Person pov

Happy giggles filled the garden as (y/n) sat watching the birds and the squirrels, smiling widely as they ran up to her and dropped nuts and berries on her lap. Creatures seemed to do this often with (y/n), as well as her mother (m/n). Residents of Beacon Hills would often see the pair walking around town or the park with big smiles on their faces, hands intertwined and a trail of woodland critters scuttling behind them.

Of course, it had been months since anyone had seen the two, (y/n) being taken out of public school early and (m/n) stuck in a hospital bed. “(y/n),” A calm voice was heard from inside the house, the little girl turned around, continuing to giggle as there was a sparrow nesting in her hair. “Lunch is ready sweetheart!” The (h/c) girl lifted her hand as the sparrow fluttered onto her finger, lifting her hand further, the bird then fluttered from her finger to the birdhouse before she ran into the house for lunch.

“Hi, Lissa!” (y/n) practically shouted as she rushed into the kitchen and into the arms of the awaiting Melissa McCall. The woman smiled and hoisted the girl into her arms. (y/n) was rewarded with a kiss on the forehead and a sandwich and the two of them watched as (y/n)’s father came through the front door, a grim look on his face.

“Dad!” The young girl cried, running up to her father and circling his legs. Her father tried to smile and looked over at Melissa with an even darker look. The woman covered her mouth in shock and realisation of the event that had transpired. Tears began to fill her eyes as she grabbed her purse, stroked the girl’s hair, hugged the distraught widower and swiftly left the now broken household.

“Hi pumpkin,” (d/n) began shakily, holding his daughter close to his chest, “Come sit down darling, I need to tell you something.” He said, tears filling his eyes as he looked at his precious baby who looked so similar to his precious wife. His precious (m/n) who was due to be added to the (l/n) mausoleum in a week.

Present day~

3rd Person pov

The Library of Beacon Hills High School was quiet, for the most part. Other than the crowd of teenage boys trying to get a look at the new girl, the tall teen werewolf and said new girl and the two boys following her. Whilst (y/n) and Isaac huddled close in front of a textbook as he tutored her, Scott and Stiles were hiding behind nearby bookshelves trying to get a peek at the girl and compare her to some pictures they’d found.

“So, from the research I did,” Stiles began, trying his hardest to keep his voice from jumping in volume in his excitement, “Her mom died when she was five or six and then a few months later, her babysitter reported her missing. You’ll never guess who her babysitter was Scott.” The mentioned Beta was staring at the girl, wondering if she seemed familiar, he was also trying to ignore the odd anger bubbling inside him as he saw Isaac inching closer to her. Stiles sighed and finished, “Melissa McCall.”

“What?” Scott asked, rather loudly, causing a few students, including (y/n) to turn and look at them. The boys barely managed to hide behind the shelves. The attention eventually went away and Scott continued, “Why was my mom babysitting her? Why have I never heard of her?” He asked. Stiles jumped a bit and showed his friend the police report from his bag.

“Yeah, see here,” He said, pointing at some typed text, “Your mom was recorded and they took her statement as the last person to see her and the person who reported her missing, for a while, the cops actually thought it was her that did it.” Scott couldn’t believe it. His mother, his loving, caring mother, was a suspect in potential child abduction.

Ten Years Ago~

Sheriff’s Office

The young mother sat sobbing in a rigid chair, her knees were shaking and her son was sat in the waiting room, playing with Stiles and a few toys. “Melissa, you need to calm down,” The Sheriff told her, pressing record on a tape recorder. “I need you to calm down and talk to me, okay?” He asked, the terrified woman nodded and breathed slowly. “Okay, can you tell me exactly what you are reporting?” He asked.

“A m-missing child,” Melissa sputtered, “Maybe an ab-abduction.” She whispered.

The Sheriff wrote everything down in an official report, “Alright, were you the last one that saw her?” He asked.

Melissa continued shaking and began, “I-I’m not sure. I think so. Her dad was at work and I was watching (y/n). We watched television, had some dinner, read some books and then I put her to bed. Her dad came home so I went back to my house with Scott, who I had brought with me.” Her voice began to waver again as she looked out at her son, sat happily without a care in the world, the same way (y/n) had been not twelve hours ago.

The Sheriff nodded and asked, “So, other than Mister (l/n), you were the last to see the victim?” The weeping woman nodded, “Alright, did you see anything strange between (y/n) and her father? Or her father in general?” He asked, offering Melissa a box of tissues.

Melissa wiped her tears and, through sniffles and hiccups, tried to relay what she had seen recently. “Well, when (m/n) p-passed away, (y/n) became a bit quieter, she didn’t smile as much but was still... well (y/n). (d/n) was destroyed when his wife died, he became really secluded, he stopped going to work and locked himself in his office for days at a time, leaving (y/n) with me.”

Sheriff Stilinski continued noting everything down, thoughts running through his head, ‘I have a feeling I know who did this and it wasn’t sweet Melissa McCall.’ He thought. Melissa’s whimpers brought back his attention.

“I know that (d/n) went back and forth between the house and visiting (m/n) in the mausoleum, he’s refusing to take (y/n) with him though, saying it would hurt and confuse her. I’m sorry but can we finish this now,” She continued, looking over at Scott and Stiles, “I feel awful enough already.” Melissa looked down into her lap.

The Sheriff nodded and stood to open the door for her, watching as she and Scott left the station, leaving Stiles to play on his own. ‘He’s going to wind up getting bored and bugging me so I best finish this quick.’ He thought, walking back to his desk and continuing the recording.

“I think it is safe to say that Melissa McCall had nothing to do with this, she had a strong relationship with (y/n), there are many people who can testify for her. The top suspect needing to be questioned now is her father (d/n) (l/n). It struck many people as odd that he wasn’t the first to report his daughter missing, unless of course, he knows where she is.” He finished, pressing stop on the recorder, taking the tape and adding it to the evidence.

Present Day~

3rd Person pov

“Dude,” Scott said, after reading the transcript of what was recorded that day. He was shocked that his mother was so close to the girl, that he was supposed to remember her too, but he didn’t. Why couldn’t he remember her? He looked back over at the girl, holding her picture up to see the comparisons.

Their face shape was the same, same nose, eyes, smile. That gorgeous, bright smile. Scott shook his head, ‘I have a girlfriend!’ He thought, thinking about Allison. Allison, the girl he hadn’t been able to see in public because of who her family is. Her family could kill him. In fact, they wanted to and tried to. They could turn on him in the snap of a finger. He saw a side of Allison at the Hale house that he had never wanted to see. She was going to kill Derek. Derek might be an ass but he was still a living being.

Then there was this, new girl. She seemed to be something special, something... inhuman. He couldn’t quite figure out what she was, something he would talk to Derek about, but whatever she was, it was incredible. Allison, well she was just human. He still liked her, but he wasn’t sure if he still loved her.

(y/n) pov

“What?” I heard, looking up from the textbook to see the two boys from my first class duck behind some bookshelves. I raised a brow before looking back at the textbook I was sharing with Isaac. Being so close to him was driving me crazy. I knew he had some sort of connection to the Alpha, but Isaac was just a Beta, a Beta that had Derek Hale’s scent vaguely on him. I could smell Hale from the mausoleum that night. I needed to find him.

Anyway, I tuned back in to my study session with Isaac as he began running through things, “I still can’t believe you’ve never read Romeo and Juliet!” He chuckled, oh that laugh, that smile. “It’s a classic, basically, two families in the city of Verona Italy, they each have one child, Romeo and Juliet, they meet, fall in love and wind up in a forbidden romance.” He told me in a purposefully deep voice to be funny.

I laughed as he made kissy faces at me, “Well, I never really went to school, I was home-schooled.” I told him, a lie yes, but I doubt he could tell. As far as I know, he hasn’t been turned for that long, this may even be his first full moon tonight. I was excited to see what would happen, I knew what happened to me in the full moon, I grew more powerful because more people called upon my kind.

We quickly finished out study session, after getting some dirty looks from the librarian about being noisy. We packed our books away and stood to leave, “Hey,” Isaac began, suddenly switching from his impish grin to a bashful smile. How is he this cute!? “I have Lacrosse practice now, but would you maybe wanna come watch? Cheer me on?” He asked, hopeful. I smiled, maybe it would be nice to take a break from the plan right now.

If I’m lucky, Derek might be there and I can speak to him, he knows the feeling of being betrayed by family. I looked into deep blue eyes and smiled, “Yeah I’d love to!” I told him, wishing him luck with a peck on the cheek and walked off to my locker, leaving the poor boy smiling a goofy smile in the middle of the hall.

Ten Years Ago~

3rd Person pov

(d/n) held his daughter’s hand as they walked slowly to the cemetery, “Let’s go visit your mama,” He said to her, watching as her smile lit up the room. Tears began to drip down his face as he slipped his other hand into his pocket and clenched his fist around the mausoleum key, contemplating his next moves.

He sat in front of the mausoleum for a while, watching as (y/n) picked flowers to give to (m/n), she insisted that she would love them, he knew deep down that whilst she would love the flowers, she wouldn’t like what he was about to do.

He watched his little girl smiling as she picked daisies and dandelions, watched her (e/c) eyes sparkle, her eyes. He watched as her cheeks turned a rosy hue as she thought of her mother, her rosy cheeks. Watched as her smile faded when he took her hand and brought her into the mausoleum when she hadn’t finished picking flowers, her smile.

He listened as her precious little voice shrieked when the door shut behind her, her dad no where to be found as he was locking the mausoleum from outside. “Dad!” She cried, her father blinking tears down his sallow face as she kicked and scratched the doors.

“Papa!” She screamed even louder, her eyes becoming used to the darkness to see the coffins surrounding her. She shook her head rapidly, refusing to believe what had just happened. Her dad would never do this, he’ll be back for her. Tears streamed down her now pale cheeks as she cried harder and louder until her throat hurt.

“Dad!!!”

________________

I hope you guys liked this instalment! Exciting news, when I was writing this chapter, I got my first re-blog! Thank you so much to @originalwitchsworld for re-blogging!

57 notes · View notes

hardforbenhardy · 4 years

Text

scandal | rogerxfem!reader

summary: you and roger had been married for multiple years and now, and your relationship could not have been going better. or so you believed.

warnings: angst, cheating, basically dickhead!roger

word count: 2.8k

this was the first fanfic i ever wrote for roger, and i must say i’m kind of proud of it! it’s pretty sad but yakno. there’s a lil snippet at the end some may recognise because this oneshot was inspired a lot by the song ‘burn’ from hamilton! hope you enjoy :) (it starts as a news article btw)

i’ve decided i will make a part 2 if this gets 100 notes :)

Queens Second Scandal?

Just after the release of the bands hit Scandal, drummer Roger Taylor has been caught getting cosy with a mystery woman, despite being in a 6 year marriage with wife Y/N Y/L/N at the time. With Queen being on hiatus after the Magic Tour of '86, Taylor formed new rock band, The Cross. With the band having been on a 3 month tour of the UK and Germany, his wife was left to her own devices; evidently giving the member free reign of the well-known strip clubs around Germany and nearby cities. Being the 'sex on legs' of Queen, all fans were sceptical of the idea of Taylor finally settling down with marriage and children – seemingly, being correct to do so after pictures have recently been released of the musician leaving a nightspot with one of the workers of a German sex club, arm in arm, getting into a taxi.

You were reluctant to ever marry Roger; marriage was never something you expected to happen in your future, having commitment issues after your first relationship left you single for a majority of your life. Men seemed to be the bane of your existence; every man you had tried to get close to turned out to be lowlife scum who either tried to use you or just turned out to be downright arrogant. So, of course meeting Roger Taylor instantly put you off him; he was cocky, conceited and far too overconfident in his charm and good looks. Yet you could not deny that there was something about him that made him so alluring, meaning you fell very hard very quickly. He proposed on your one year anniversary in the year of '82, by taking you on a romantic holiday to the country you had been wanting to go to for years; Italy. He had it all planned out;

"Roger, you remembered" You breathed, chuckling softly in disbelief that he had done all this for you. You held the delicate, flowy material in your hand, admiring the floral patterns that canvased the dress. You had seen a summer dress in a shop down the street from your hotel a few days before, and obsessed with it the moment it had met your eyes. Your favourite part was the blue floral print; there were bellflowers, bunneras, columbines, desert bluebells, irises, sea hollies – all of which contrasted with the background white. The neck cut was rebelliously low, but you knew it would look ravishing when on your body – it was like the dress was made just for you. There was one problem; it cost far too much for you to afford, and after spending all the money on this trip, you didn't want Roger to have to splash out again. "I thought we agreed it was far too expensive?"

"Y/N, you are the love of my life – I'm always going to splash out on you when I get the chance. And it's our anniversary, you deserve it for being the most incredible girlfriend I could ask for" Roger cooed, making you blush and face the ground, only for Roger to place his hand gently under your chin to lift your head to face his once again. You stared into his piercing, ocean eyes before saying "Thank you" and planting a soft, passionate kiss against his rosy, plump lips.

"Well, go try it on! I want to see my sexy girlfriend in the dress I spent hundreds on" Roger laughed, pushing me into the bathroom to try on the dress. Let's just say, he got to see his girlfriend with the dress for about 5 minutes before it was off again.

He finished the romance-filled day with an evening boat ride down the Grand Canal; the idea having been on your bucket-list since you were a teenager and discovered a thing called romance. Having voiced this to Roger multiple times during late-night drunken conversations and post-sex pillow talks, you weren't shocked he had picked this to be way to end the day. It was more the action after the ride that rendered you speechless. While you turned around to admire the view behind you, Roger had found himself knelt on one knee in front of you, ring box in hand. So of course, when you turned, you were met with the one image you had only dreamt of.

"Y/N, will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?" Those words alone had you hooked and you were sure, in that moment, you wanted to spend the rest of your life with this man. There was nothing that could change that decision.

That was until the events of this morning. After being sent by Freddie down to the studio reception to collect the weekly paper, you didn't quite expect something so disturbing to be plastered on the front page. The paper fell to the ground out of your hand, unable to read on. Your mind repeated the words 'getting cosy with a mystery woman' over and over, completely unable to comprehend what you had actually just read; Roger cheated on you?

Of all the ways you saw your relationship crumbling, cheating was not one of them. Of course you knew Roger was previously known for sleeping around, he was basically a fairground for all the groupies. But he had made it very clear; he would never, ever in a million trillion years cheat on you. And you believed him. You seriously, truly believed him.

You bent down to scrunch the paper tightly in your grasp, before storming up the stairs back into the studio. You threw the door open, your hand clenching tighter and tighter around the news second by second. Unsurprisingly, you immediately drew the attention of everyone in the room; Brian and his current girlfriend were slumped on the couch talking about astrophysics, Freddie was pacing around the room warming up his vocals, John was sat cross-legged on the floor tuning his bass, while Roger sat at his drum kit banging the melody to recently released Scandal. They had all clearly noticed the streams of mascara-stained tears cascading down your cheeks and your increased breathing rate as they all stopped in their tracks to look up at you. Though your eyes remained solely on Roger; his head shot up in an instant, stopping the beats he was making to jump out of his chair and make his way over to you.

"Y/N, love, are you okay? What happened?" He fretted, his arms searching up and down your body for any sign of injury or physical harm that may have caused your sudden outburst. John was also quick to his feet, handing you a tissue to wipe away the tears, but you angrily declined telling him to fuck off. Admittedly, John did nothing to deserve such a reaction, in fact he deserved completely the opposite reaction; but you were too choleric to even entertain the idea of being polite to people. "Y/N, what on earth has gotten into you?"

"You said you would never do that to me." I breathed, scoffing at his utter arrogance of the situation. He knew exactly what he had done, and you knew it, but you knew he wouldn't admit it without you confirming you knew. "You promised"

"What are you talking about?" He questioned, furrowing his brows in confusion, looking you up and down. You couldn't bring yourself to say it, knowing you would easily breakdown if they even touched the tip of your tongue. Instead, you shoved the paper harshly against his chest, making him stumble back slightly and grab onto the crumpled paper you had slammed into him. He began to unscrew it open, reluctant as he could see exactly where this was going. His eyes scanned over the first sentence, and you noticed them glass over. "I'm talking about that"

He grasped onto your lower arm, yanking you into the room next to the studio, as to keep the commotion away from the rest of the band; it being a private matter of course. Your anger only grew at the fact he had the audacity to seem irritated at you right now, he was the one who had cheated on you. You stormed to the other side of the room, turning away from Roger as you could barely even look at him. You leant forward on the office desk, hanging your head low as you tried your hardest not to carry on crying. There was a choking silence filling the room, eating away at the tension of the atmosphere, which was quickly broken by Roger. "You seriously believe this? The tabloids always lie, they take every chance they can to twist a story, because it makes them money. Y/N, you know I would never do that to you, I-I love you" His voice cracked saying the three final words, alerting to you Roger wasn't angry – he was ashamed, upset, distraught even.

"Do you? Do you really? Because that German hooker seems to have a different opinion" you spat, turning around to finally face Roger and pointing you finger firmly against his chest. You did your best you could to avoid meeting Roger's sorrowful eyes, but failed miserably when your eyes flickered up to witness tears rolling down his crimson cheeks. You almost felt conscience-stricken and apologetic; how badly you just wanted to give into your wifely instincts and wipe the tears away, caressing his cheek gently and holding him tightly in your arms for comfort. That was until you remember exactly why he was like this. He had betrayed you. Roger urgently lifted the paper back to this view, scanning over the page even more for some kind of indication of what you meant. That's when he saw it:

"[Roger] had spent the whole evening in the club, indulging in the performances and everything we had to offer – he seemed extremely stressed, and was most likely looking for a form of relief that his wife was unfortunately unable to provide at the time" - The worker, seen leaving the nightspot with Roger, has explained – "I had asked, ensured both his wife and him had given full consent before he took me home and we had an eventful evening. I can't deny; he lives up to the expectations of the nickname."

"You told her I had given consent for you to go fuck another woman? Are you out of your mind? She has told the whole world how you brought this girl into our bed. In clearing your name, she has ruined my life. You are always so paranoid how people perceive you – you, you, and you. Never me, never our relationship, never our two children. Did you ever stop to think how this might affect me, how this might affect Felix and Rory?" You cried, struggling to even say the names of your two children.

"Y/N, I swear this isn't how it looks-"

"Isn't how it looks? Roger, she made a fucking statement saying you had fucking sex – and you told her it was okay?! How can you say this isn't how it looks?" You sneered, getting closer and closer to Roger every second, only for him to stand there rendered silent. He didn't know what he could say to fix the situation, considering you wouldn't let him get a word in edgeways without having some form of comeback, although he certainly didn't blame you for the way you were acting. Therefore, he let you speak; he let you pour out every emotion before he would even try to make a contribution. "You know, I saved every letter you wrote me. From every single tour; The Game tour, Hot Space, The Works, even the Jazz tour when we weren't even dating. And from the moment I read each one, I knew you were mine – you said you were mine. D-do you know what V said when we saw your first letter arrive? She told me how she could see how much you truly loved me, apparently John called it to. Told me to be careful, he'll do what it takes to succeed. I re-read each of those letters every single night when you would be out recording, or drinking with the boys, or doing a press conference. I was scanning and searching for answers in every line, for some kind of sign, that you still loved me. You want to know why I believe it, why I believe her? Because for the past year, you barely ever put the effort in. You were never home; you would turn down sex way too often for someone with the nickname 'sex on legs'; you always found excuses for me to stay home while you hung out with guys; y-you took every chance you could to sleep on the couch; we'd argue way more than usual. That's why I believe it. Because as I kept falling in love with you every day, you started falling out of love with me" Your voice was barely above a whisper with your last words, the tears you had been holding back finally taking their course, joining the other stale tears you cried when you first read the paper less than 10 minutes ago.

"Y/N, baby, no please don't think that. I love you, I love you so much. I will always love you with all my heart, nothing can change that. Not the boys, not the boy's wives, and certainly not some German prostitute."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Look, it's a long story and I can't explain it all right now, please can we just go home and we can sit down and have a proper talk about it all" He tried to comfort you, rubbing your upper arms slowly and caressingly. But those words alone stood you frozen.

"So you did do it? You slept with her? God, why did I ever trust you? From the moment I met you, I knew I would want to spend my life with you in some way or another. A-and when you proposed, on that boat ride in Italy, I knew for sure the way I wanted to spend my life with you was married, getting a family, living together – you know whole shebang. I thought it was too good to be true, and it turns out it was. I'm erasing myself from this narrative; let the journalists wonder how Y/N reacted when you broke her heart. Roger, the world has no right to my life; they have no right to our bed. And when the time comes, you can explain to the children all the torment and humiliation you put their mother through – when will you learn that they're your legacy; I'm your legacy?" You practically spat, not even feeling a hint of sadness anymore but rather just pure resentment and fury for the man, all the care and love you held for Roger had dissipated. How dare he put you through such distress when all you had done was love and support him through everything he did; he had the audacity to make you feel like you meant nothing to him as if he hadn't spent the last 10 years with you.

"Y/N, please, give me a chance to expla-"

"No, you don't get that chance. You lost that chance when you took the girl back to your fucking apartment and fucked her fucking brains out." You breathed, before shoving past Roger's paralysed body, approaching the door. You were almost resistant to walk out, considering you knew all the boys would be sat out there – most likely having heard the conversation that had just took place taking into account you weren't exactly quiet through any of it. The only thing that tipped you over the edge was the fact you could not stay in the room any longer with that cheater. You turned to face Roger one more time, seeing him stood there more fragile than you had ever seen before, before pulling your ring off your finger and placing it on the table that was beside you. Roger's eyes widened at the sight, tears pricking his eyes once again as his breath hitched in his throat. "N-no, please, keep the ring on, don't take it off."

"Hey, Rog, at least she got a good orgasm though" You mumbled, sarcasm running sharply through your tone before opening the door.

"Y/N, please no. Y/N wait-"

And with that, you were out the door.

#roger #taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor x reader #rogertaylor #roger taylor angst #queen #oneshots #queen fanfiction #fanfic #angst #cheating

197 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Disarming Voice

[Tour!verse]

One of, like, three gifts for @the10amongstthese3s because I love them so much and they mean a lot to me and I just 💚💘💙💖💚💖💚💘💙💘💚 I was supposed to wait for their birthday in June but they were sad earlier today and so I gathered the remains of the Adderall in my system and wrote this bad boy

I love you, Duckie!!!!!

also: i couldnt think of a title so i frantically searched up Pokemon moves and now this will be the second fanfic with a title that is a move from Pokemon (the first is Quiver Dance)

Word count: 3175

TW: Blood

———————

Haus of Holbein concluded with kaleidoscope of strobe lights and cacophony of giggles from the eager audience. They watched as the queens pranced over the risers and staircase for the next bit, unbeknownst to a small pop in the back that was deaf to even the Tudor ladies themselves. They just went on with their performance like they always did.

“It’s time for you to choose your bride, your highness!” Aragon declared in her high pitched, Welsh-tinged voice, and that was enough to pop a metaphorical balloon that cut Howard off from saying her next line.

Okay, well, it wasn’t really the metaphorical balloon popping that halted the show, but the sharp cry of pain that came from the upper right.

Joan was hunched over her keyboard, rocking back and forth slight and clutching at one side of her head. The sound of her soft whimpers and keens resonated in the earpieces each of the queen’s wore.

“Joan, what are you doing?” Anne hissed softly. She can hear the audience starting to murmur in confusion behind her.

“Stop the show,” Joan croaked weakly.

“What? We can’t-”

“Please!” Joan cried, her voice cracking. Her head snapped up and the spotlights caught on some kind of fluid running down the side of her face. Anne makes a sickened look and backed away, thinking that it may be blood. Aragon gave her an exasperated expression—how could a woman be afraid of the sight of blood? Or did Anne just pass out every time she had her period?

The golden queen’s internal nitpicking came to an abrupt halt when the director suddenly came on the speakers and announced a momentary intermission. A few people in the audience grumble in annoyance, while others groan, and the majority whispered even louder. A couple of stagehands are leering at Joan from the wings.

“What is going on?” The director suddenly stormed onstage, looking frazzled and aloof at the interruption. He was probably already imagining all the negative reviews and the money they’ll lose from people not wanting to come anymore, which definitely would not happen with how popular the show was. “Why did we stop? Joan, what did you do?”

“My-my ear—” Joan choked out. She’s rocking herself more prominently, as if she thought the movement would comfort her, but it clearly wasn’t working the magic she thought it would.

“You made us stop the show for an EARACHE?” The director barked.

“Hey, get off her ass.” Aragon growled, puffing out her chest to the obnoxious man and gathering herself up to her full size—which was easier taller than the director. And if she didn’t beat him in height, then her muscles and abs surely did, and she made sure to make that known to him.

“N-no, it’s—” Joan winced. “I-it’s—” She was stuttering too much for anyone to understand what she was saying, although nobody was really surprised. It was a habit of hers.

“Woah,” Maggie suddenly piped up. “What’s that on your face?”

Someone called for the main lights to be turned on, and the white-yellow fluid coating one side of Joan’s head is revealed. It was mixing with trails of red—blood. Anne stepped back dizzily and Aragon shot her a ‘get over it’ look over her shoulder before returning her full attention to the injured music director.

She could see that the fluids seemed to be coming from her ear and were dripping all the way down her jawline and onto her chest and shoulders. The droplets disappear against the dark material of her band uniform.

“Ew,” Jane wrinkled her nose and Joan looked dismayed at her reaction, then embarrassment. Pink did not go well with whatever color that liquid was supposed to be.

“What happened?” Cleves asked, incredibly curious. She was looking at the residue as if it were liquid gemstones.

“I-I had an—ear infection.” Joan explained, and each of her words are punctuated with a wince or whimper. “I took—pain killers, but—” She made a miserable, pained sound and clenched tighter.

“Your eardrum might have burst.” Cathy said bluntly.

Joan went very pale, and the fluids suddenly look a lot darker. Or maybe that was just because of the increased sputtering of blood that’s coming out.

Slowly, so slowly, she pulled her hand back, and they all saw the drooling maw that was her left ear. The interior was completely coated in a thick amalgam of water, blood, and something that looked like pus, and the hole seemed to be clogged by the same concoction, although that looked a lot more /red/. It was weeping the foul-smelling liquid; Anne gagged loudly, but Aragon didn’t know if it was because of the sight, the smell, or both.

“Yikes,” Maggie winced. “That looks painful.” At her side, Howard tentatively touched her ear, as if she thought that her eardrum may randomly burst and put her through the same pain the music director was very obviously feeling.

“What do we do?” Aragon asked, waving her head around to everyone.

“Well, if I remember correctly,” Cathy said in her infamous know-it-all voice, “burst eardrums usually heal on their own.”

There was a collective sigh of relief—and then Cathy started talking again.

“However, sometimes surgery is needed. I’ve heard of cauterizing being used as a form of treatment, too.”

Miraculously, Joan’s face managed to get even whiter. If Cathy noticed, she doesn’t relent with her fact-stating.

“And hearing loss is sometimes possible. Which, when working in show biz, doesn’t seem to be a very good th-”

“Thank you, Cathy!” Aragon said loudly, batting her goddaughter away. She set a hand on Joan’s shoulder and her heart broke a little when she felt the girl trembling. Ice blue eyes stare up at her in fear.

“I-I don’t want t-to get my ear cauterized.” Joan stammered. “O-or go deaf!”

“You won’t, honey,” Aragon assured her. I hope. “I’ll take you to the doctor’s.”

“What?” The director squawked. “You can’t leave!” He wheeled around to Joan, bug-eyed and desperate. “You can still perform, can’t you?”

“My EAR is LEAKING!” Joan cried, holding out her pus-soaked hand to the man, who reared away in disgust. Anne gagged again from somewhere further away and Howard begrudgingly leaves the commotion to go comfort her soon-to-be-ill cousin.

Aragon raised her eyebrows with a pleased smile. She didn’t often hear Joan snap at people, but she was always very impressed when she was around for it. It just proved there were thorns under that shell she’s always hiding in.

“Can you walk?” Aragon said softly, then wanted to slap her. She was on the side with the injured ear—Joan probably could barely hear from that side.

“Yeah.” Joan still said, making out the queen’s words. She wobbled to her feet, and although it was her ear that was the part that hurt, her legs were still hindered by the waves of pain and discomfort washing over her.

“Ow,” She whispered, wincing.

“Come on, darling.” Aragon said to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I won’t let you fall.”

“What about the show?” The director warbled woefully.

“The swings are here, aren’t they?” Aragon said dismissively. “Get one of them to do it!”

There’s a reply, but Aragon was already leading Joan off of the stage, through the wings, and out the back door to the staff parking lot.

“What did it feel like?” Aragon asked as she was driving to the hospital. She glanced at the shuddering form of Joan in the passenger seat. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Um,” Joan looked a little uncomfortable. “Sorta like a water balloon popping? I kinda heard, like, umm—this pop, I guess? And then splitting pain and, ahh—there was stuff—coming out of my ear.”

At least, Aragon thinks that’s what she said. She liked to think she was good at discerning Joan Stutters, but the girl was just stammering so badly that even she was having a hard time understanding what exactly she was saying. She reached one hand off the steering wheel and touched Joan’s shoulder, hoping it may help comfort her.

“It’ll be okay, darling.” She told her.

“P-please focus on the road,” Joan said, glancing anxiously at the hand on her shoulder.

“Right.” Aragon pulled her hand away. She should have known—Joan hated when she didn’t drive with both hands on the wheel.

How was it possible to hold so much anxiety in such a scrawny little body?

They soon arrived at the hospital in a whirl of rhinestones and sparkles, seeing as they were both still in their show costumes. The people in the waiting room were dazzled at the shimmering gold outfit Aragon was stuck in, and one person even recognized her and got up to possibly ask for a picture, but then immediately sat back down when they noticed her determined, ‘do not fuck with me’ expression. If her leotard was breaking some kind of hospital dress code, nobody decided to say something.

Aragon explained to the woman at the reception desk about what they were there for, gesturing vaguely to the coagulated mess on the side of Joan’s head in the process a few times. After getting checked in, they took a seat in the waiting room, much to Aragon’s displeasure. Sure, Joan’s injury was no broken bone or heart attack, but the girl was clearly in a severe amount of pain. If the way she wouldn’t stop shaking didn’t give that away.

“Snowflake?” Aragon gently touched her hand. “Are you alright, baby?”

Joan merely replied with a soft “mmm” and kept her eyes shut. Aragon frowned. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a boy with his parents staring at the mess on Joan’s head and shot him a look that nearly made him keel over dead.

“You’re going to be okay.” Aragon told her girl, keeping her voice warm and soothing. “I promise.”

Joan just nodded this time.

It took almost twenty minutes and an extra squirting of ear water and pus, but Joan was eventually called for examination. Aragon followed her, sliding past the several gazes she got as she went along.

As Cathy predicted, there wasn’t much the doctors could do for something inside of Joan’s head, and they were sure she didn’t want a sudden surgery to repair some pieces of frayed tissue. However, they did clean up her head and ear (which was a painful process when a q-tip was used), and prescribed her some stronger antibiotics since it was clear she was in some discomfort.

On the drive to her apartment, Joan looked terribly guilty.

“What’s wrong, snowball?” Aragon asked, glancing at the sulking girl.

Joan mumbled something. Aragon leaked over slightly.

“A little louder, baby. I can’t hear you.”

“I made you miss the show for nothing.” Joan said. “And then you paid for a pointless doctor visit.” She hunched over in the passenger seat and put her head in her hands. “You wasted so much for me.”

It took all of Aragon’s willpower to not veer the car off the road and start laying into Joan about how she’d give up everything for her, but she kept her cool and continued driving so she wouldn’t freak the girl out even more. Her added car anxiety wouldn’t make anything better.

“Honey, I chose to take you to the doctor’s.” Aragon said. “It was my idea. You didn’t force me. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Joan pulled her head back and nodded slowly. Aragon wished she would smile, or at least stop frowning guiltily like she was. The girl was always too hard on herself, always blaming herself for things she didn’t cause and always losing her mind over the most minor inconveniences. She thought she was to prove herself or live up to the queen’s greatness, Aragon realized awhile ago.

They parked in Joan’s apartment complex and Joan didn’t even try to convince Aragon that she didn’t have to stay like she usually did. She just trudged up the two flights of stairs to her flat- Argaon always wondered how she got all her furniture up there, as she was sure the girl was too shy to ask a moving company for help. The image of her darling snow fox trying to haul an entire wardrobe up the steps was quite funny, albeit a bit pitiful.

Stepping into Joan’s apartment, however, was even more pitiful.

Aragon never got over how barren Joan’s home was. She stumbled through a dark corridor, kicking off her shoes as she does so. She saw Joan turn on a lamp instead of the main lights (they hurt her eyes, she had said before), and the glow it gave off was dim, as though the bulb was about to go out. It was enough to illuminate the bare and cold living room, dining room, and kitchen, which were all empty of decorations. Joan was terrible with money, fearing that buying a simple potted plant would leave her bankrupt. She did have a small cactus in her kitchen, though—its name was Prickle.

Joan grabbed a light blue cup from the sink, the only dish in the basin, and filled it up with some water before swallowing one of the painkillers, despite already having taken one while at the hospital.

“Joan, baby?” Aragon called out gently. “Does it hurt that much?”

She worried about the pain being that severe and the chance that Joan was just taking more pills because she liked how they made her numb. She once said she liked not feeling—it made her forget about her worthlessness and stress.

Joan sorta just shrugged in response, staring ruefully down into the cup. Aragon came over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“How about we watch a movie?” She suggested. “Or do you want to rest?”

“It’s only lunchtime.” Joan pointed out. “I can’t rest already.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of catnaps?” Aragon poked her in the stomach, which made her giggle and squirm away. It was music to her ears. “Let’s make lunch, then. And THEN watch a movie.”

She detangled herself from Joan and walked over to the fridge. Her eyes widened when she saw what was inside.

“You went grocery shopping!” She spun around to Joan, clasping her hands in her own. “I’m so proud of you!”

She had been so worried to see the fridge empty like so many times before, but this time there was /food/! Sure, it wasn’t much, but it was something! Joan had bought fruit and milk and cheese and eggs and that weird LaCroix drinks she insists are really good but Aragon just thinks they taste like static and a single cherry skittle that’s been dissolved in water for three hours. There was food in the pantry, too—bread and crackers, biscuits and cereal, canned soup and packets of macaroni. Joan had even bought herself ice cream!

Joan blushed shyly, looking away.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” She murmured.

“It is to me!” Aragon whisked her up in her arms, causing Joan to squeak and cling to the ruffs on her shoulders.

“That’s itchy,” Joan said after she was set down, wrinkling her nose at Aragon’s costume.

“Tell me about it,” Aragon laughed. “Do you think any of your clothes will fit me? I’d watch the movie naked like I usually do, but I feel like that wouldn’t be proper guest etiquette.”

“Oh, I actually have—”

Aragon burst into laughter at the double take Joan does.

“Wait. What?!” Joan blinked at her, probably picturing that image in her head and then immediately being horrified when it actually materializes in her brain. “Don’t you— Doesn’t Anna share a room with you?”

“Then I guess I’m the award-winning film she’s watching.” Aragon smirked.

“Ahhh!!” Joan slapped Aragon's arms frantically. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

“What? You don’t like hearing about my-“

“LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!!!” Joan covered her ears, although softly with her injured one. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!!! MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB, LITTLE LAMB, LITTLE LAMB!!!”

Aragon laughed until her chest hurt. She wiped one of her eyes and set a hand on Joan’s head.

“Okay, snowfall, I’m done.”

Joan carefully removed her hands, peering up at Aragon suspiciously.

“You’re gross.” She poked her.

“Not gross. H-”

Joan slapped her hands back over her ears.

Which was a big mistake.

“You dummy.” Aragon said when Joan keened sharply in pain. “Shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s your fault!” Joan said miserably. She carefully rubbed the space next to her injured ear, but stopped when Aragon started to do it for her, leaning blissfully into her touch. “You’re the reason Maggie likes to tease me about having mommy issues.”

Aragon snorted. “I’m not surprised.” She said. “Now. What were you saying before?”

A blush dusts Joan’s cheeks. “Oh. Right.” She fidgets with a rhinestone on her costume. “I, umm— Well, seeing as you come over a lot— I— I got you some spare clothes.”

Aragon perked up, smiling. “Aww. That’s so sweet of you to do, Joan!”

Joan blushed harder and then scurried off to go change while Aragon started to make their lunch. She changed soon after, and then they sat down on the couch with their grilled cheeses.

“How’s your ear feeling?” Aragon asked as Joan was flipping through Netflix (technically, it was Aragon’s account. Of course Joan wouldn’t by her own—financial anxiety and all. And of course Aragon had to share with the girl!)

“Better,” Joan said, then touched it tentatively. “But it’s kinda, like...ringing.” She curled into Aragon’s side. “I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” Aragon wrapped her arms around Joan and she marveled at how perfectly she fit, as if that spot had been shaped by the universe just for the girl. She didn’t think even Mary had fit that well.

It was a sign, she realized: This is where this girl should stay. In your arms. Forever.

Aragon smiled. She liked the sound of that, even if she knew it would definitely be questioned by other people. They wouldn’t be able to wrap their heads around her loving some anxious mess of a music director more than her birth daughter she had fought tooth and nail to be with all those centuries ago. But it was hard to feel a sliver of love towards Mary after hearing about the horrors she’s done—she was just ashamed. Ashamed to be her mother, so she disconnected herself from the bloody ties of her child and went searching for someone who needed her more.

And that’s how she found Joan. Her perfect, weird little moon. Every inch nervous and shy, with so much room to be loved, and everything Mary would never ever be.

Sorry, Mary, Aragon thought with a chuckle, imagining her daughter throwing a fit in her place in hell.

She snuggled Joan closer and set her chin on her head. She felt Joan lean in closer and she smiled lovingly.

“So, what are we watching?”

48 notes · View notes

thealogie · 4 years

Text

thanks to the overwhelming silence and the fact that i can’t remember my old ao3 password and want to preserve my new ao3 for bookmarking rather than publishing anything I’m putting under the cut here some of the tentatively titled and probably-never-to-be-finished “Jeeves and the Unemployment Rate” which I wrote on the ios scrivener app a while ago (highly recommend if you want to write yourself fanfic on your commute and read it later) and then forgot.

It all started on a crisp sort of autumn morning when I returned to 3A Berkeley Mansions from a spot of lunch at my Aunt Dahlia’s with a bit of good news, a spring in my step, and sunshine on the old bean. It was the brightish sort of day, made all the brighter by the visit to a most Beloved Relation, who is the kind-hearted fly in the ointment of my theory that aunts are put on this earth for the sole purpose of crushing young nephews into submission, depression, and oppression under heels of steel. On this particular day, the old girl—in addition to being a generally good sort as usual— had also helped me solve a problem that had been vexing me for nearly a month.

I burst through the door with good cheer and a hankering for a whiskey fizz.

“Jeeves,” I bleeted. “Rally round.”

And rally around he did. Not that Jeeves does anything the seeing man would describe as “rallying.” But he floated gracefully out of the kitchen a moment before I called out for him, a whiskey fizz in hand.

“Ah, you are a marvel, as always, Jeeves. You’re sure you’re not a telepath? Positive of it, I mean? Very well, very well, I believe you,” I said, pouring the w. f. down the throat. “Right-o, now let us rally as men do. I bring splendid news from ol’ Dahlia.”

“Indeed, sir?”

“Dashed splendid, I mean. The sort to grip you somewhere in the middle and lift you just a footish above the troubles of life so that you glide above them in the air without once dipping your toes into their murky depths—the troubles, I mean. Of life, that is,” I explained.

“Indeed, sir?”

I narrowed my eyes a bit. There was something a bit soupy about his tone that told me he lacked the enthusiasm Betram Wilberforce was striving for in this situation. Like I said, rallying of any sort is out of the question when it comes to Jeeves, but a chap hopes that when he stirs up the pot with so much vim, he might be rewarded with a sincerely uttered “Very good, sir,” or, perhaps more ambitiously, “Most pleasing to hear it, sir. Perhaps you could recount the tale after I pour you another w. f.?”

I forged on bravely.

“Oh rather. I mean to say, you’re going to be biffed as well, old thing. Oh yes. The news touches you, is the thing. And I dare say it’s pleasant news of the sort that will have even demi-gods like yourself prancing about the place with a hop and a whistle.”

“Indeed, sir?”

Many times have I spoken to my man about his little habit of wielding “indeeds” against me in such sharpish tones.

“What do you...I mean. Yes, dashed ‘indeed,’ Jeeves,” I replied with some steel in my voice, “blasted, indeed! You know what, Jeeves, I’m surprised at you. You might show a bit more sympathy for the y.m. It’s not a happy household when a man comes through the door all hot and is immediately handed the ice.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Jeeves!”

“My apologies, sir. I only meant to convey that it is just as you say. I should be glad to hear what Mrs. Travers relayed to you over luncheon.”

I crossed my arms and narrowed the Wooster baby blues even further until it was difficult to see a dashed thing.

“Alright Jeeves. Let’s have it.”

“Sir?”

“Out with it.”

“Sir?”

“Sir! I mean...to chopped liver with ‘sir,’ Jeeves. Something is rotten in the chez of Wooster. I see the displeased glint in your eyes. I should like to hear what’s hardened your heart against the young master’s general joie at the current state of vivre.”

“Well, sir. Is the pleasant information you wish to convey in any way related to the retirement Mrs. Travers’s head butler and her selection of a replacement?”

“By Jove,” I cried. “You do know all, what?! Jeeves, I know you don’t like this theory of mine, but it’s time we started to take the telepathy thingamummy seriously. Is it your deductive reasoning again? I mean, it’s too uncanny. Give me your Holmesian monologue on how you came to this one.”

“No deductions on this occasion, sir. Although I do not wish to jeopardize a friend, I must admit Seppings himself paid me a visit not an hour ago and divulged the news,” Jeeves said.

“Jeeves! Don’t tell me Seppings let the proverbial cat out of the proverbial bag?!”

“I’m afraid so, sir.”

“Oh rotten luck that!” I sighed, a bit put out that Seppings—the very retiring butler who had minutes ago been the source of my great gratitude—had ruined my surprise.

“As you say, sir.”

“And I suppose you know the person she intends to name as his replacement is, in fact, you?”

“I do, sir,” he said coldly.

“Er,” I replied.

“Will that be all, sir?”

“I can see you’re not too pleased with the young master, Jeeves, but I only thought—dash it, I mean, I thought it would please you. The superior title, an entire staff at your command, a house with guests of the more refined sort.”

Jeeves was unmoved by this. I forged on, feeling a bit like that Napoleon chappie must have felt trying to make good speed when it got nippy in Russia.

“Oh, think, you’d never cook again Jeeves! Every menu will be orchestrated by you and prepared by Anatole. Oh, and you don’t need to valet at all, Aunt Dahlia says. I mean, Uncle Tom would be glad to have you valet for him if you don’t trust anyone else with his clothes but they have a large-ish staff. If you’d like, you’d just be doing books and ordering people about all day and generally mastering the household.”

I had wilted a bit at his initial cold reception but I was at full speed again with my ramble, imagining Jeeves sitting behind his own desk, so many people for him to guide and mold.

“It is an incredibly generous offer, sir,” Jeeves said. “Will that be all?”

I wilted again.

“It’s only an offer, Jeeves. You can toss it out to the cold night air if it displeases you. I mean to say, what?! No one is making you take it—not that there are good odds against any mortal setting about making you do anything you don’t want to do and coming out on top,” I tried to mollify him.

“Very kind, sir,” Jeeves said stiffly. “Will that be all?”

I saw that Jeeves was not in a good way. And suddenly my own disappointment was the furthest thing from my mind. I softened immediately.

“Old thing, I wish you would tell me what’s bothering you,” I said ever so gently, or so I hoped.

“While it is commendable, Mr. Wooster, that you would secure another position for me rather than dismissing me, I am sorry to learn I have overstayed my welcome,” he explained, looking above the Wooster onion and straight at the wall opposite.

I scratched the Wooster temple, feeling flummoxed and flat out on my rear.

“Jeeves, old fruit, I’m feeling a bit flummoxed and flat out,” I confessed, leaving off the bit about my rear to preserve some dignity.

“Mr. Seppings came to congratulate me on the happy news, which he thought I was already privy to. After seeing that the news surprised and confused me, he confessed that he inadvertently overheard pieces of your discussions with Mrs. Travers,” Jeeves explained.

Oh. Oh, dear. That’s something to get hot under the collar about. If Seppings had indeed heard my conversation with Dahlia...

“Oh bugger all,” I groaned.

“He had not meant to eavesdrop, sir, but came to understand that you were asking Mrs. Travers’ advice on how to end my employment while avoiding the unpleasantness that generally accompanies an outright dismissal. If I may say, sir, the elected course is prudent. The offer of employment from Mrs. Travers at increased salary and title would have spared embarrassment on all sides,” Jeeves said. Except it wasn’t Jeeves at all, dash it. He had the faraway look of an automaton who has no thoughts at all, nevertheless the dozen or so ripe ones that seem always to be floating around in Jeeves’s head. “Sir, will that be all?”

Oh, dash it. Let me stop there for a mo’.

At this point, you must be feeling as betrayed as Jeeves. “Wooster, you useless goose!” you’re undoubtedly crying. “You’ve somehow managed to ensnare a divine nymph to crease your trousers and mix your cocktails? You have in your household a first-rate mind who should be writing treatises on literature and holding saloons in Paris, yet you dare to hand him the mitten? Refund me the price of the rag I’ve purchased or prepare to duel.”

I beg you gentle reader, give this Wooster a chance to redeem himself. An oaf I am, but an oaf pure of heart. My sin, you see, is not being up to this literary wheeze, not caprice.

In the normal course of events, you know, stories begin when matters are about to get wheeling on, then they trot on until everybody’s generally got their ankles up in the air and such, and then they end when everything’s been tidied up and all persons’ ankles are firmly back on the ground. You’re familiar with said basic structure, no doubt? Well, I’m no good at it. This Wooster frequently starts his wheezes when things have already gone ankles up. Jeeves tells me the more scholarly writer sorts try to hide this flaw by pretending to do this same thing deliberately and calling it “starting in medias res.”

Allow me to fill you in on three basic facts that might persuade you to regard Bertram Wilberforce as the well-intentioned buffoon he is rather than the malicious villain he is painted out to be in the above passage:

A. I’m in love with Jeeves. I mean properly daffy him and all that. I mean to say, I hear music when he walks into the room. When he leaves, clouds of doom descend upon me. His every touch however brief and accidental is etched indelibly in my memory. It’s properly scorching stuff, you see. But he hasn’t a clue.

B. I can’t tell a fellow I’m daffy for him so long as I’m his employer. I mean, he takes his wages fishing me out of the soup, drying me off, and setting me on my way again. I mean, you don’t need me to spell out the how and why. It’s simply not preux at all.

C. Premise A and premise B, when combined, put me in quite a bind. I shared said bind with an old chum of mine just a few weeks prior to the cheery-cum-calamitous afternoon I’ve recounted to you above.

“So, you’d like to get a leg over Jeeves, eh?” Ginger said crassly after I’d unburdened my very soul to him.

I’ve known Ginger for ages. I mean, I used to know Ginger rather biblically. Now we’re just chums. And unlike some chaps who used to know each other, we’re rather un-jealous and supportive chums. Though, Ginger’s support was a bit more vulgar than a laddie hopes for when said laddie is in the throws of a love that is all divinity and light.

“Ginger! You crude fishmonger,” I cried, scandalized. “This is serious, for once. What am I to do? Am I to take this to my grave? Saddens a chap to think of going on like this forever.”

“Want to roger him good, eh ol’ boy?” Ginger continued, without hearing me at all.

“No, Ginger. It’s not like that. I mean it is. But it’s more. I also want us to sit by the fire, reading poetry. I want to make him smile every day I am alive. I want his hands enveloped in mine,” I declared. “Were I a glove, and all that!”

“I think the Romeo chappie wanted to be a glove to touch that bird’s cheek, Bertie.”

“Well, Jeeves is too sensible to sit around resting his cheek in his hands when he’s wearing work gloves. But I mean it! I would shape shift into one of his imminently reasonable and dull gloves if I could, so I could be wrapped all around his elegant hands,” I sighed dreamily, giving Madeleine Bassett a run for her money.

“Looks like he’s got you wrapped around his fingers, all right,” Ginger laughed, clapping me on the back in a chummy sort of fashion.

“Oh but Ginger, don’t tease. Not today. If you had the smartest and handsomest man in England residing in your home, you too would find him a worthy general and think twice before acting without orders,” I sighed, chin in hand.

“Please Bertie,” Ginger said, rolling his eyes. “I hope you aren’t about to start again with your campaign to make Jeeves Prime Minister, Bertie.”

At this comment, the Wooster corpus, previously slumped over the table, sat at attention with a bolt of inspiration. “Euree—something. Jeeves would know. Something a Greek chappie once said when his grey matter finally got going. I mean to say, that’s it, Ginger! Oh, you’ve got it.”

Ginger blinked at me in confusion. “You’re going to make Jeeves the Prime Minister? I suppose, that would do the country a bit of good. And, you have a point. If you tell the Prime Minister you want to bugger him, there’s no danger of him going along with it because he feels obliged.”

“Not quite, laddie. If Jeeves had another job, a better job, then I would be just another man, not his employer,” I said.

“With you so far,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“Well, young masters who wish to stay a step above the devil don’t go foisting declarations on unsuspecting valets and then expect them to go on dressing and feeding and living with said y.m. as though nothing is amiss,” I explained patiently. “But if he doesn’t work for me, I could tell him I love him. We’d just be two men, standing before each other. And if he doesn’t feel the same, he’d just biff off to his new household, that’s that.”

“I get all that. Bertie, you really are a Christmas pudding of a man,” Ginger said. “What I’m saying is...Well, that’s no solution at all. I mean. Right now, at least you get to be close to him day in and out, don’t you? If you send him away…you do realize he’ll be, in fact, away, don’t you?” he said sagely, buttering a scone with a great air dignity. “Or maybe you don’t. There’s no end to things you don’t realize, darling.”

I puffed up the chest. My love had made me feel a touch noble, like those self-sacrificing beazels in the old Greek plays. “I’d rather watch him walk out the door after I’ve said my piece than have him say ‘Very good, sir’ and shimmer into the kitchen to put dinner together because it’s what’s expected of him,” I said with a touch haught. “Now Ginger, if you’re a friend, you’ll help me draw up a list of suitable households where Jeeves will be happy and well-paid. You know he’s not exactly the ‘happy to put down anchor anywhere’ sort of fellow.’”

“That’s mild, Bertie. The man’s as particular as all hell,” Ginger exclaimed.

I sighed dreamily, planting the Wooster chin atop the Wooster palm. “Isn’t he just? It’s an infuriating quality of his.

“Oh dear lord, you’re done for.”

31 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Dancing into your arms (branjie) - multifandomgeek

A/N: This is originally a multichapter fic but is posted here in its totality. If you guys like it and want to let me know, leave a comment on the AO3 post and make my day <3

Summary:

Brooke is a very strict dance teacher that is taking a select group of girls to a dance camp where they will be able to learn from the best. She, however, is not very good at meeting new people and may not have a very good time at this week-long event.

Vanessa is a teacher who worked her ass off to get these girls into this dance camp. If only they could stop getting in trouble, maybe she could get a second of peace to get to know this beautiful blonde who she stumbled into a little better.

wordcount: 18359

Chapter 1: A vision in a red dress

Brooke was sitting in the front of the bus, looking out of the window watching the trees go by in a bored but content state of mind. Her students were relatively quiet for a group of high school girls going on a school trip for the week, but that wasn’t very surprising. They were on their way to a dance camping, and Brooke selected these girls not for their dance abilities or the grades they achieved in her class, but because she knew they took their discipline seriously and would make the most of this opportunity.

She took her gaze away from the outside and turned her head to glance at her students. Some were chatting between themselves, some were looking out the window like she was doing herself a moment ago. She didn’t know if they were friends with each other when she chose them. That didn’t really matter for the purposes of this trip, but she couldn’t help but wonder while she studied their faces now. God, she was so proud of them, every single one. There was so much potential in this bus alone, she couldn’t wait to see what they would end up doing.

Sitting alone on the opposite side from her was Nina, her absolute favorite student. Not that Brooke would ever admit that out loud, of course. She was heavier and with a different body type than most of the girls in her class, or maybe any dance class, and was not by a long shot the best dancer in her school, but nobody loved dancing more than Nina. She tried her best every time, practiced harder than anyone. But her best quality wasn’t even in her dedication, but in the way she lifted the spirit of everybody else in the room, being able not only to brush off her peers’ laughter and teasing with an ease that Brooke truly envied, but to also laugh at herself, cracking jokes about her lack of rhythm or falls, making it easier for everybody else to deal with their mistakes too.

She was the first name Brooke put on the list when the opportunity to come to this camp presented itself. It was a very selected experience, a place where the girls would be able to focus on learning according to their own preferences with several of the best dancers and professors of the country. Of course Nina had to be there. Even if the school wouldn’t, Brooke would find a way to get the girl in.

“I can see the sign already, miss Hytes!” said Nina excitedly, turning to Brooke, who had been staring at the girl with a fond smile like a proud mom. She averted her gaze, blushing.

“Good!” She said. “I’m excited! If any of you guys didn’t fill in your schedules online or have any questions about that, we will check in first and then address that, all right?” The girls’ chatter became louder as they started talking to each other about the things they were looking forward to do.

“What will you do, miss Hytes?” asked another girl, Yvie.

“Me? Well…” responded Brooke, surprised. She hadn’t really thought about that. “I’ll take care of you girls, of course. And meet people, learn things too. It will be fun,” she said, smiling assuringly.

She turned back to the window, her smile faltering. She wasn’t the best with people, and to be honest she had had her own share of lectures and classes and new techniques outside of the classes she taught. This was a huge opportunity for her girls, and she was here to assure that they took it, that was it. Sure, there were a few activities for the teachers chaperoning their students, but those were just not her thing. Too social for her liking. Mostly, the teachers were supposed to keep their prone-to-trouble teenagers in line, but she wouldn’t have that kind of problem. She sighed. Maybe she should have brought an extra book or two.

–

The first day was supposed to be the easy one and Brooke was already going crazy. The stupid guy on the reception desk couldn’t get his head around the fact that someone spelled Yvie name as Eve on his computer, but that didn’t mean he was getting a freaking terrorist in if he could just accept her I.D. and let them in. It took them a whole hour to solve this stupid problem, and a whole lot of self-control for Brooke not to punch anyone in the process.

After they finally got that sorted out and got their things in their cabins, they went to the main hall, where some groups were already mingling between themselves and eating while others were arriving like them. There was a booth at one corner of the salon for those who wanted to go over their schedules for the week and some people in uniform giving information, as well as some camp teachers already talking to eager students and teachers from groups that arrived earlier. So many people, and no alcohol in sight.

There would be a performance later that night and that was it for the day. Classes started only tomorrow, today was supposed to be about integration between schools and students, for everybody to feel comfortable at “their home for the week”. Useless, in Brooke’s opinion, but the girls were excited and already pointing and gasping at people.

“Go on,” she said. “I’m not your nanny, just be polite for the love of God.” She waved them away, trusting their common sense. She knew them well, after all, there was nothing to be worried about. She made a B line for the buffet and gathered some things out on a plate, leaning against a wall and keeping an eye on her students just in case, but staying away from any casual conversation. She was so tired already.

A while later, could have been five minutes or five hours for what she could tell, she noticed Nina holding a plate by the buffet, with a girl in front of her gesticulating wildly. Brooke couldn’t see this girl’s face, but she could tell something was wrong because Nina was frowning.

She approached casually, and as she got closer she noticed the other girl was talking very loudly. With the chatter and the number of people already in the room, it wasn’t too shocking, but it was loud enough for her to be able to tell this was not a friendly conversation going on. She quickened her pace.

“… think you are better than me, right? Just because of your fancy school and your fancy clothes and this fancy place,” said the girl.

“What? No! What?” said Nina.

“Don’t think I don’t know what kind of girl you are I can read you from miles away.”

“Why are you yelling?” said Nina.

“What’s going on?” said Brooke, putting a protective hand on Nina’s shoulder.

“Nothing!” said Nina, quickly changing her expression, smiling at Brooke. “We were just talking Miss Hytes. This is Rajah, she actually goes to school across town from us. Isn’t that amazing, that we would meet so far away?”

“Amazing indeed,” said Brooke unimpressed, crossing her arms and looking at Rajah with raised eyebrows. She looked like she was ready to throw back a punch if Brooke so much as blinked at her. “Are you-”

“Rajah why you look like you about to slap a bitch, calm yourself down girl nobody trying to steal your man down here” came a voice from behind Brooke. The girl, Rajah, visibly relaxed, looking down and even chuckling a little bit. Brooke was confused, to say the least, looking for the person where that gruff voice came from, expecting anything else than the woman she actually saw.

She was small, smaller even than her student, with short blond hair that fell in barely-there waves stopping just before reaching her shoulders. She was wearing a dark red dress that complimented her tone of skin wonderfully and hugged her tiny waist perfectly before flowing in a loose skirt that Brooke would love to see her twirl in, just so she could take a better look at those incredible legs. Her make-up was flawless and she looked like she was glowing. But what made Brooke’s jaw really drop was the smile that she flashed while extending Brooke her hand. It took a minute for her to process that she was actually talking to her. Nina snorted discreetly at her side.

“Hi, I’m Vanessa,” she said.

“Brooke. Brooke Lynn. Brooke Lynn Hytes. My name is Brooke Lynn Hytes, hi, nice to meet you. Hi,” she shook Vanessa’s hand briefly while suppressing herself from hiding her face behind her hands while simultaneously elbowing Nina who was failing tragically at not-laughing beside her.

Vanessa chuckled and looked Brooke from head to toe, her whole body language changing completely just for a second, before she caught herself and remembered why she had come over in the first place.

“This your student?” asked Vanessa, pointing at Nina, ”were they fighting or something?”

“Yes, this is my student, Nina, and I don’t know, were you fighting?”, asked Brooke, recovering her poise and looking at Nina, who was surprised to have the attention turned at her all of a sudden.

“No! No no no, it was just a misunderstanding,” she said.

“Sorry, miss V,” said Rajah finally, “I was stressed out because of earlier and let it out on her.”

“Girl, let it go,” said Vanessa, shaking her head at Rajah with a knowing look on her face.

“I know,” the girl responded. Vanessa kept looking at her pointedly until Rajah rolled her eyes and looked at Nina. “I’m sorry, Nina. I’m sorry, Miss Hytes.”

“No worries,” said Nina promptly. ”Come on, let me introduce you to my friends,” she said, swiftly pulling Rajah, practically dragging her across the room. Brooke looked over at them suspiciously, guessing that the fast exit was not exclusive for the benefit of the girls’ friendship. Not that she was going to complain.

“Sorry about Rajah, she’s a very good girl beneath that explosive temper of hers,” said Vanessa, pulling Brooke’s attention back to her.

“It’s fine, I think Nina was more confused than pressed about it anyway,” she said.

“Good. Hmm…” said Vanessa, checking Brooke out again, not very subtly.

“Yeah. So… uh,” said Brooke, taking the oportunity to do the same.

They found themselves staring at each other. There were plenty of things they could be talking about. Brooke already knew they were from the same town, for example. They could be talking about that, or the food, about dance, about anything at all. But it was like all thought processes were too complicated, the only thing Brooke’s brain was capable of processing right now was brown eyes and plump lips.

Brooke licked her lips, and Vanessa caught the movement, mimicking it. Brooke smirked and Vanessa caught her eye. The tension between them grew as they kept staring without saying a word.God, she’s so beautiful, Brook though, taking a step closer before she could talk herself out of it. Vanessa gasped, a brief intake of air that Brooke wouldn’t have noticed if she wasn’t so close. She swallowed. Vanessa reached for her hand.

“Excuse me, ladies,” said a chubby guy, coming between them none the wiser to grab at a sushi plate. They were right next to the buffet after all. “Thank you,” he said with a smile, going away to the next assortment of delicacies.

Brooke blinked and looked at Vanessa, who was looking at the guy as if he personally offended her.

“Who does that?” she said with a hand on her hip, not loud enough for him to hear but not quietly either. Brooke laughed. Vanessa turned back to her, looking like she was going to say something, but her eyes quickly diverted, pulled by something happening behind the blonde.

“Goddamnit, A’keria,” she said, pursing her lips, “these girls will be the death of me, I swear.”

She hastily placed a lock of hair behind her ear with a worried look, taking a step or two in the direction she was looking. But before she could stomp away, she took the time to look over her shoulder and say: “we’ll finish this later” and wink, leaving a love-struck Brooke sad to see her leave, but happy to watch her go.

Chapter 2: Yes, Miss Hytes

“You’re staring”

Brooke Lynn Hytes had been dragged out of her daydreaming by a smug looking Nina, who was sitting across from her at the breakfast table, fingers crossed casually over an empty bowl of cereal, elbows resting at each side of it. She was looking right at Brooke with a sideways smile and knowing eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, said Brooke, in way of the playful “fuck off” she really wanted to say. Truth is, she really had been staring. How couldn’t she?

The camp’s cafeteria was ordinary, with big tables to accommodate all the people that would be there for the week. Brooke’s group got there earlier than most, even with the time she took to give everyone a big speech about how they were representing their school and Brooke’s own personal reputation. She was expecting nothing less than their best behavior and spotless accounts of discipline and dedication from the camp’s staff. She would not tolerate any foolishness and would not hesitate to send someone back if she deemed they were waisting their opportunity here and jeopardizing the school’s privilege of coming again in future chances.

The girls were used to this kind of discourse coming from their dance teacher, and signaled their understanding, heading to the cafeteria in polite conversation. Brooke was proud and trusted them, but a good reminder was never too much, even though with their tight schedules and the eagerness they were showing to actually take the classes offered she doubted they would have much mindspace for trouble.

After they were well into their breakfast, Vanessa’s group arrived. Not that Brooke noticed, or was expecting to see her, looking anxiously at the door every time a new group of people made their way in. Nope, she was absolutely focusing on her own students and barely touched plate of food.

Vanessa’s group was small, 5 or 6 girls maybe, but they were hard to miss. They talked happily and loudly between themselves, their teacher the loudest of all. The first time Brooke heard Vanessa laugh that morning, she found it absolutely impossible to hold her own smile back, and maybe she was more infatuated than she thought. They sat all the way across the cafeteria, but Brooke could still see Vanessa clearly, not missing the quick glances the other woman threw at her every now and them. She was barely wearing any make-up today, her hair was a little disheveled and she was dressed in a simple t-shirt and shorts, and somehow she managed to be even more stunning than last night.

So maybe Brooke had been chewing on the same bite of cantaloupe for the last 10 minutes, elbow on the table, head resting on her elbow, sighing like a horny teenager who’s got the hots for her math teacher and can’t make a long division because he is just so dreamy she can’t even pay attention. Ugh, what’s going on with her today?

“So, I was texting Rajah,” said Nina, suspiciously trying to hide the fact that she was looking at her phone in her lap, even though Brooke had nothing against them using their phones outside of classes.

“You two really became friends? That’s… surprising.”

“I’m friends with everybody,” said Nina, and Brooke couldn’t disagree on that. “Anyway, I know you want to make sure we are okay, but our classes are all set, we know where we are going for the day-”

“Actually-” interrupted Plastique, who was sitting next to Nina, but she suddenly stopped talking, looking at Yvie who was on her other side with a painful expression.

“You don’t have to worry about us at all, miss Hytes,” continued Nina, unphased. “But Rajah’s group…” she made an exaggerated pitiful expression. “You know, they got the call to come here really last minute. Miss Vanjie - that’s their teacher, Miss Vanjie - really had to bust her a- really had to work hard to get them here, they didn’t get to work on their schedules beforehand at all. Plus, the system is really getting the best of them.” Nina made a dramatic pause. At this point, the whole table was quiet, pretending not to pay attention. Brooke had to make a real effort not to roll her eyes at their subtlety. “You helped us so much with our planning miss Hytes, you should go help them! I know you get to have some free time after breakfast.”

“You are such a good person, miss Hytes, I think they will really appreciate it,” said Plastique, innocently. Poor Plastique, someone should really fill her in on the story later.

Brooke looked at Vanessa. She wouldn’t mind an excuse to talk to her at all, much less one that would offer a chance for them to spend some time together.

“Nina, if you are making this up, I swear to God,” she said quietly, leaning on the table so (hopefully) just Nina would hear her.

“Okay, call me Britney ‘cause I’m not that innocent,” responded Nina, leaning in too and lowering her tone of voice. “I know you know what I’m doing, but they really do need help, miss Hytes! They are so disorganized, and the camp’s system is like a whole new technology for them! Plus, Miss Vanjie is no Steve Jobs, they were trying to figure it out all night and still don’t have anything booked!”

“All right,” said Brooke, sitting back on her chair and addressing the whole group. “I’m sure you girls will be fine, we have gone over your classes and your behavior already, so… I’ll see you guys later. Don’t think I won’t be checking in with the other teachers, though. You’re not here for fun.”

They all nodded, serious. Brooke hated when they said “Yes, miss Hytes” like a chorus of preschoolers and they knew that, so they stayed quiet. As they finished eating and left, she stayed put, trying to figure out how to approach this good-samaritan situation. It was way out of her personality, it wasn’t something she would normally go out of her way to do.

“I told Rajah already that you would help them, so just go over there and say hi”, said Nina, standing by her side, like a coach encouraging her pupil. Brooke looked up at her, surprised. Nina smiled broadly. “Have fun!” she said, with all the sincerity in the world, and left. Brooke loved her so much she could almost shed a tear.

–

Get over there and say hi was much easier said than done, but Brooke eventually managed it. She was overthinking the whole situation, having replayed the little moment the two of them had last night way too many times in her head. By now, it was like a movie scene, soundtrack and all, when in actuality it was just a few seconds of something that was probably only in Brooke’s head. She wasn’t even sure about the “We’ll finish this later” thing anymore. Maybe Vanessa had said “I’ll see you later” and Brooke’s lonely brain heard what it wanted to hear. Or maybe she meant something about the students. She didn’t know anything anymore. The fact was that she was approaching Vanessa’s table with a completely irrational rapid heartbeat. She took a deep breath and reminded herself again that she was, in fact, 33 years old and not 16 about to talk to her first crush.

But Vanessa noticed her approaching, and her smiled threw all Brooke’s poise out the window. She smiled back and did a little wave that she was just not going to think about.

“Hi,” said Vanessa.

“Good morning,” said Brooke. They were ready to start staring at each other again, but Rajah came to the rescue.

“Oh yeah, Miss V, Miss Hytes is gonna help us with the schedule thing,” she said, mater of factly.

“She is? Well thank God, my brain was gonna get fried before I could get you girls into any classes,” she said, grabbing Brooke’s arm for a moment. “Well, let’s go then!” She got up and the girls followed. Brooke was still feeling her warmth on her skin before she registered she was supposed to be following. Damn the woman was fast.

–

It turned out that scheduling these girls really was a nightmare. The system was working all right, but they just could not figure out what they wanted to do. They were all talking at the same time and they had been trying to do this for an hour already. Brooke didn’t know if she wanted to cry or punch someone. She took a deep breath for the hundreth time. They were on Vanessa’s cabin, Brooke sitting on a bed with a laptop on her lap while everyone else was standing up. Whether they were fighting or friendly discussing she had no idea.

Up until now, she was trying not to meddle too much on the way Vanessa was dealing with her students. It was clear that the girls respected their Miss Vanjie very much, and got her back just as much as their teacher got theirs, and were very grateful, in their own way, for all the trouble the teacher had gone through to bring them here. But that was about it, there was no hierarchy, no authority, Vanessa talked to her students like she was their friend, let them talk over her, interrupt her, curse at her. Brooke was screaming internally while she watched it all unfold, but as much as none of that was her business, if she wanted to get some alone time with the other woman - which was the real reason she was here, let’s be honest - she needed to get these fucking schedules done, and the way this was going the ETA for that was never.

“Guys, guys, GUYS”, yelled Brooke. She got up, her posture and her height giving her an air of authority that she knew how to use very well. Everyone got quiet and turned to look at her. “Here is what we are going to do: I’m going to sit on this bed and everyone else is going to leave the room. I will call you back inside in alphabetical order and we will schedule your classes one by one. I don’t care if you want to be in the same classes as your best friend. I don’t care if you don’t like to wake up early in the morning. I don’t care if you want to set a break between classes. You will come here, tell me your personal DANCE interests, we will do this in 15 minutes tops and we. will. be. done. If you can not figure yourself out in that timeframe you might as well go home because I will not help you anymore. Is that understood?”

“Yes, miss Hytes” they said in chorus, Vanessa included. This time, Brooke didn’t hate it so much.

“Good. Now leave. Quietly, please. A’keria, you stay,” she sat back down on the bed signaling for A’keria to sit by her side. She waited for the rest of the girls to leave, not missing the almost predatory way Vanessa looked at her before closing the door.

–

Finally, finally the last girl left with a neat schedule set up, excited about her first class in a few minutes, leaving Brooke and Vanessa alone in the secluded cabin, away from all the movement that was happening in the classrooms and recreational areas right now. Brooke was leaning outside by the door, eyes closed, relishing in the silence for a second. She was tired, it had been too much too early in the morning. She would give anything for a cigarette right now.

“Thank you,” said Vanessa, quietly, and Brooke opened her eyes to look at her. “For real. I don’t know what I was gonna do, man. Nobody wanted to help me with this shit.”

“You’re welcome,” Brooke said. “I’m glad they can really enjoy the camp now.”

“I owe you one,” Vanessa said. There was a moment of silence while they just breathed, both feeling the satisfaction after a job well done. Vanessa moved to stand beside Brooke, leaning against the outer wall of the cabin, looking in the general direction of the main buildings. “I kind of want to go after them, you know? Make sure they are going in the right classrooms, not sassing their teachers, not getting into stupid fights.” She slid down, sitting with her arms on her knees. Brooke sit down too, stretching her long legs on the cement floor.

“Are they really that bad? They don’t seem like it,” she said.

“What do you mean?” asked Vanessa, turning to look at Brooke.

“Well, the way you worry you make me think they get into a fight every five minutes. Even last night, you were all over the place and I didn’t see anything happen.”

“Because I stopped it! Didn’t you see Rajah almost going at it with your Nina?”

“Yeah, kinda. I don’t think it would have gone that far though. Especially after knowing her a little better today.” There was a light breeze touching them, and Brooke reached to fix a strand lock of hair away from Vanessa’s face. “I think you can relax a little, trust them a little more.”

“You don’t get it, they don’t always have someone there for them. They are counting on me to have their back if they fuck it up.”

“I know,” Brooke was still touching her hair, with no excuse, and Vanessa was leaning into it. “I do, I get it. But you can’t be there all the time, you’re only human. They have to learn to take the consequences themselves. You’ll be there when it matters.” Vanessa sighed, like she already knew but didn’t want to agree.

“You know, I didn’t expect that coming from you, miss Hytes” she said, getting away from Brooke’s touch in favor of turning and sitting facing her. She had a playful smirk on her face. “Going all military sergeant in there, having me all hot and bothered going ‘yes ma'am, yes sir’, and now you’re telling me to chill? I thought you was gonna put my girls on boot camp or some shit.”

“Oh, so you were all hot and bothered huh?”

“Don’t come at me like you don’t know what you were doing,” Vanessa said, leaning closer, one hand lightly caressing Brooke’s thigh .

“Oh I certainly knew,” said Brooke, completing the distance and kissing her.

It was unreal, the feeling of the wind, the sound of the birds, the smell of her hair. Vanessa’s hand suddenly a solid weight on her thigh, the other flying to Brooke’s neck the moment their lips came together. Vanessa let out a strained noise as their tongues touched and Brooke found herself leaning into her, trying to get closer and deepen the kiss, her hands snaking to Vanessa’s waist, pulling her in.

Vanessa pulled back, pushing Brooke to lean back against the wall again, while she sat closer, both hands framing Brooke’s face. She pressed her thumb against Brooke’s bottom lip, sliding it in a movement that was almost painful and absolutely hot.

“You’re so sexy it should be a crime,” she said in a husky voice, never taking her eyes off of Brooke’s lip, who surged forward with a hand behind Vanessa’s head to bite her bottom lip.

“Look who’s talking,” she practically whispered into her mouth, but before they could resume their passionate kiss or even evolve it into something more, they were startled by the sound of a vibrating phone.

“Jesus Christ!”

“It’s mine,” said Brooke, already picking it up, worried. “Hello?”

She got up in a flash, getting inside the cabin for just enough time to gather her things, with the phone still in her ears. She didn’t say another word.

“Is everything ok?” asked Vanessa, already ready to go too.

“No,” Brooke responded, covering the bottom of her phone so whoever called wouldn’t hear. “It’s Nina. She’s crying.”

Chapter 3: Teenagers, am I right?

“Where is she?” asked Vanessa as they power walked their way to the main buildings.

“Nina where are you?”, asked Brooke to the phone. She was visibly freaking out. “I can’t understand a word,” she huffed at Vanjie, frustrated.

“Gi’me the phone,” responded Vanessa, already taking it from Brooke’s hand. “Nina it’s miss Vanjie, give the phone to whoever is with you sweetie, it’s gonna be alright, don’t you worry.”

“I’ve never seen her cry, Vanessa,” said Brooke, and Vanessa took her hand, giving it a squeeze and not letting it go, hopefully grounding her and letting her know through gesture that she was not alone in this.

“We’re behind the blue building, next to the playground,” came a voice from the phone.

“Playground? A’keria is that you? Wait, there’s a playground here?”

“I know where that is!” said Brooke Lynn, already pulling her to take a right.

“Don’t be mad at me, miss V, I found them like this already”, said A’keria.

“Is someone hurt?” asked Vanessa, and Brooke stopped abruptly to listen to the answer.

“Not physically,” responded A’keria, and Vanessa exhaled, shaking her head at Brooke who quickly resumed her pace.

“What is going on, child?” she asked A’keria.

“I don’t know, I just found them!”

“Them who?”

“Rajah and some girl.”

“We’re almost there,” said Brooke.

“We’re almost there, don’t budge,” said Vanessa.

“You got it,” said A’keria.

The playground was located in the center of a round patio between two large buildings, and Vanjie guessed it wasn’t used very often. It was a gloomy place, almost completely in the shade, the modern playing structures painted in shades of grey and dark red, giving the whole thing a creepy vibe. Nina and Rajah were on a bench by the side of it, Rajah laying down with her head on Nina’s lap, looking at the sky like nothing really mattered anymore. She had clearly been crying but wasn’t doing so anymore. Nina was still crying, but not so much like she was on the phone, just silent tears falling down her red cheeks. She was petting Rajah’s short hair absentmindedly, with a lost expression on her face.

A’keria was sitting on a swing and was the first to see the two teachers arriving, looking like she was ready to bolt the minute they were at a hearing distance. “You stay right there,” said Vanessa pointing at her, predicting what was going to coming out of the girls’ mouth.

Brooke let go of her hand in favor of reaching for Nina, who was just now realizing they were there. Vanessa couldn’t tell when was the last time she had held hands with someone who wasn’t a student. She hadn’t known she missed it.

“Nina, what’s wrong?” asked Brooke, touching the girls’ face delicately. Nina tried to hastily wipe away her tears and smile at her teacher, shaking her head, trying to mutter some excuse, some ‘I’m fine’, but it didn’t work, and the tears kept falling, her face turning even redder. Rajah had sat up at this point, and Brooke pulled Nina off the bench to hug her fiercely. She had been so worried, she had been sure Nina was hurt. She didn’t say it, but Vanjie knew. Just like she knew that, right now, Brooke just needed to feel Nina in her arms and make sure she was safe. A crying mess, but a safe crying mess. She left the two of them to it and sat down next to Rajah, who had her elbows on her knees and her face on her hands.

“So,” she said, a little louder than strictly necessary, but who cares. “What did I do to you that you are actively trying to make me have a heart attack Rajah?” she said, leaning back on the bench and spreading her arms. Rajah shook her head slightly but didn’t move otherwise. Not even a little chuckle. Well, that was worrying. “What did you do, huh? Did you punch Nina on the boob?” she tried. Nothing. “Did Nina punch you on the boob?” She was really starting to get worried now. “Did A’keria punch you and Nina on the boob and went to look at Twitter over there like the little psycho we all knew she was?” She said, winking at A’keria so the girl knew she wasn’t being serious. For a moment she thought she got something out of Rajah and the girl finally laughed a little bit, but on a second glance she realized she had started crying again, silently, trying to hide it. Vanessa’s heart all but broke.

“Rajah, baby,” she said, changing her tone completely and taking the girl’s hands away from her face “talk to me girl. You know I’m here for you, what’s going on? I can’t help you if you hide stuff from me, you know that.” Rajah looked at her, but that only made the tears fall faster.

“I’m going home, that’s all,” she managed to say between sobs. “I don’t belong here, miss V. All these people… I’m sorry, I love you so much miss V, I’m sorry, I just wanna go home.” She said finally, hugging Vanessa and crying on her shoulder.

“A’keria…?” tried Vanjie, hugging Rajah back, confused.

“I told you, I have no idea!” said A’keria from her swing, looking frustrated but sympathetic.

Vanessa turned to Brooke, who was still shushing Nina, but the girl seemed a lot better now. Brooke’s top was a mess from Nina’s tears and maybe even a little snot, but she didn’t look like she cared, gently looking down at her student’s face, her hand in a tight grip around her shoulders like she didn’t want to let her go ever again.

Nina was wiping her face and trying to pull herself together, clearly building up to say something. The adults were waiting, trying not to rush her but at the same time just dying to know what the hell happened.

“Let’s sit down,” said Brooke, guiding her to the bench next to where Rajah and Vanessa were. Nina looked at A’keria hesitantly, very quickly, but Vanjie didn’t miss it.

“A’keria go find a bottle of water for these girls. And I don’t want any gossiping on the way,” she said.

“What do you take me for?” A’keria said.

“A teenager,” responded Vanessa, daring the girl to talk back at her with just a look, but she seemed to get the message and left. When the teacher turned back, Nina looked a bit more at ease.

“So, uh… Rajah had a Modern Dance class with me this morning, with professor Jenkins, from New York?” started Nina. “Except she was late, because of the schedule problem you guys were having. And it’s the first day, you know, some people are gonna be late, it’s normal, but he was being a real dick about it. Sorry, miss Hytes.”

“Curse all you want Nina,” said Brooke encouragingly, petting the girl’s hair with affection. “Just… don’t tell anyone later.”

“Anyway, the class had already started and he was treating us like we were already in college or something, using all these difficult terms, foreign words and all. I was having a hard time following and I had actually heard about it before. Rajah looked really lost, plus the guy had called her out at the beginning. Then we got to practice, and he started to use difficult words again, and not being patient at all, and everyone was having a hard time, but he was being extra harsh on her, I mean, oof, really unnecessary. He gave a whole speech about how people who don’t give their all don’t getting anywhere in life, all this BS about dedicating your whole life to dancing and the arts and being sophisticated and, I mean, I’m really sugar coating it here. It had nothing to do with what we were doing it was just to push her buttons.Then he started to correct people’s postures, and I was almost crying myself because everybody knows I’m a sack of potatoes in any dance class but Rajah, oh my god, it was like he was trying to make her lose her mind, I swear. So she left, obviously, I don’t know how she made it so far.”

“I went after her, ‘cause she was really upset. We ended up here, and I was trying to tell her to not listen to the guy, but then she started to tell me about home. She told me her mom is not there anymore, and she has to take care of her home and her baby brother, who by the way is an actual baby. And how is she going to dedicate her whole life to dance when she literally has to change diapers and cook dinner until her dad comes home? And then she has to deal with all her school work on top of that? And dancing is technically an after-school activity, right? She’s not even allowed to do that! Miss Vanjie had to bend her time backward so she could attend it and…” tears started to form at her eyes again, but she wiped them away, determined to continue, “how was she supposed to know all this fancy wording, we are here to learn not to show off! How dare he come here to humiliate us? But we can’t do anything, he’s a teacher and we are students… but even so, he’s right, dance is hard to do, it is just hard to do! It’s not an easy money job, it’s not something you study on the bus on your way to your part-time job after school, you have to practice, you have to have time, you have to have means, and Rajah is so talented miss Hytes, you had to see her, she was better than everybody, even not knowing the proper terms or never seeing the movements before, even with how mad she was. But she doesn’t have the privilege she doesn’t have the time and there’s nothing I can do, I’m useless, there’s nothing, absolutely nothing I can do for her to be able to do this!”

“Oh, Nina,” said Brooke, enveloping her in a hug once more.

“Then she started crying, then I started crying, and she wanted to run away, and I wanted to stop her and I didn’t know what to do! I tried to think of things, I’ve thought of so many things, but nothing seemed like an actual plan, and then she looked like she was really going to run off on me and I felt so useless. I have got all these things and all this time and I can’t do anything for her, it’s not fair, why doesn’t she get to have it, you know? Why is the world like this, she doesn’t deserve all this dumped on her…”

“You’re rambling sweetie,” said Vanessa kindly.

“I’m sorry,” said Nina, looking down. “I’m sorry I got you guys so worried, I’m sorry if I interrupted something, but Rajah was literally running away and I got so scared.”

“No, you don’t have to be sorry,” said Brooke, “you don’t have to hesitate to call me, ever. I’m your teacher, you have a problem you call me.” She took Nina’s face in her hands to force the girl to look into her eyes. “Are we clear on that?”

Brooke meant to be deadly serious, but she made Nina go a little cross-eyed, so the girl had a laugh suppressed at the corner of her mouth as she nodded. Vanessa, however, had not been trained to be scared of Brooke, and laughed loud and clear.

“You’re gonna turn the girl blind, come on,” she said, and Nina laughed at last, making Brooke smile too, which was a great change of air.

Now Rajah was another story. She had stopped crying sometime in the middle of Nina’s account, but had not yet emerged from her place on Vanessa’s arms. The teacher already knew about all of that, of course. In fact, most of her students had something similar to tell. It was not an easy life, and maybe they would not go on to be professional dancers or whatever life they dreamed of, but that didn’t mean dance couldn’t be an important part of their lives, like it was an important part of hers. And, most importantly, that didn’t mean they couldn’t try to be whatever they wanted to be, just like every other kid on this camp. Maybe it would be harder for them, but it sure as hell wasn’t impossible.

Vanessa felt for Rajah, she really did. She hugged her and placed a kiss on the top of her head while she desperately thought on what to say to convince this wonderful girl that she was worth it, even if just for today. Because she knew there was nothing nobody could do that would help her until she convinced herself that she could make it, and Vanjie had been trying to get this thick-skulled girl to understand how talented and capable she was for months now.

“Now what I’m trying to decide is,” she finally said. “Do I kill the motherfucker or just scare him so bad that he gets away scarred for life?”

This time, she could feel Rajah laughing. Thank God.

–

It took some time and a great deal of Nina to convince Rajah to attend her next class. It helped that Brooke knew the teacher and could say in advance that she was, in fact, not a jerk. It also helped that A’keria was in that class too, and Rajah went in already feeling more at ease. Nina was still a little shook, feeling like her optimistic world had shattered around her, alternating between making plans to change the world in a day and talking like it was all pointless every five minutes, but they gathered she would be fine.

Vanessa was already over it, it was not her first rodeo with dramatic teenagers nor entitled dickheads who called themselves educators. But Brooke Lynn, she was livid. She was still sitting on that playground bench when Vanjie returned from delivering Rajah and A’keria to their class, taking a moment to have a word with the teacher while she was at it, just in case.

Brooke was a vision: Her legs were crossed, her spine so straight it looked like it was about to snap, one hand resting delicately on her leg while the other brushed at her jaw. She was looking straight forward, but her eyes were unfocused. She had her jaw clenched and her nostrils were flaring. Vanjie wanted to take a picture. Would that be creepy? Probably. Besides, it felt like she was walking towards a lioness who was ready to pounce at any minute.

“You look like you’re plotting a murder,” she said. Brooke didn’t budge a hair, only moving her eyes in the fraction of a second to look at Vanessa as she approached.

“I am,” she said, and Vanessa didn’t know if she was turned on or scared.

“I don’t think we can do anything,” she said, finding herself torn between sitting practically on Brooke’s lap or a little far away so she could just look at her better. What was going on with her today? She chose to sit casually close, rolling her eyes at herself. “I would be the first to go there and point my finger at the guy’s face and yell at him for the whole place to hear, believe me. But I’ve been there, done that, and it just makes you look bad. He didn’t really do anything wrong, you know?”

“No crime in being an asshole,” said Brooke, deflating a little.

“Exactly.”

Brooke gave a deep sigh, leaning to rest her head on Vanessa’s shoulder, whose insides did a somersault at the unexpected touch. She inhaled deeply, trying to imprint the other woman’s smell to memory, and took her hand again, just because, lacing their finger together and caressing the back of it, feeling the softness of her skin.

“I see why Nina was so upset, this is frustrating,” she said quietly.

“She’s really something else, huh?”

“She’s amazing. And the son of a bitch made her cry,” said Brooke, squeezing Vanessa’s hand in a burst of anger.

“You know, we could file a complaint or whatever and it’ll be the end of it,” said Vanessa, biting her lip and asking the heavens what was it about this girl that made her feel like she was 15 again. “OR we could take the immature path and key his car or something.”

“You’re serious?“ asked Brooke, getting up to look at Vanessa, who couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness.

“I am if you are,” she responded.

“What could we do though?” Brooke smiled. She was excited already and Vanessa loved it. “Not key his car, I think there are cameras on the parking lot.”

“Not that I have any experience with this kind of stuff, I’m a very good girl, very nice past, clean record and all,” said Vanessa, “but we should learn a little bit of his habits and whatnot, see what he does, what would piss him off the most. Revenge is a bitch better served cold, you know.”

“A dish,” laughed Brooke.

“What?” said Vanessa, confused.

“Never mind,” responded Brooke, planting a firm kiss on Vanessa’s mouth before getting up. “Let’s do this.”

“What, right now?”, but she was already being dragged across that creepy playground by a determined Brooke, ready to pull a prank on a teacher for the first time in years. Sure, because she was mad for Rajah, but a lot more because she wanted to impress Brooke. She was supposed to be keeping the teenagers at bay here, but apparently she forgot to take a look at her own 15-year-old self.

Chapter 4: A lesbian thing

Nina West’s mind was going a million miles per hour. She was sitting under a gorgeous shade tree almost at the edge of the camp, with a diet soda on one hand and her phone on the other, thumbing through dozens of open tabs on charity organizations, efficient ways to deal with complicated problems, how to better use your privilege, how art helps save the world, and several other search results. Every article sparkled a new idea or inspired a new question and she was getting a little overwhelmed.

She wasn’t missing any class, her day had already ended, but she was starting to consider that maybe dancing wasn’t supposed to be her schtick after all. There was just so much she could be doing, in so many ways, in so many different areas. She was really good with people, maybe that could be useful not only to stop her friends from running away, like she did this morning, but to be useful in a meaningful way, in a long term way, to help lots and lots of people!

Help lots of people with what though? Save the world from what? There was so much going on! So many problems! So many wonderful causes! Ugh, she really needed to focus.

She put her phone down for a second while she sipped the last stale drops of her soda and tried to think straight. She needed a cause. She was just one girl, she couldn’t help feed the poor and clean the oceans at the same time. She read that during her research, by the way. Maybe she could, though, if she planned it right. How many things could a person do at once?

She was just about to plunge into research again when her thoughts were completely led astray as she spotted two figures making their way behind the administration building. Nina could only see them because she was right at the edge of the property, and could see both the long stretch of buildings in front of her and some of the ones that went into the side, right at the very back, before a stretch of lawn and then the woods. Which meant there was no reason for someone to be there if not to do something they didn’t want anyone else to see. Now, when that involved two people… suffice it to say, Nina got very interested.

She perked her neck to try and see if she could recognize who it was. She hadn’t had time to get to know everybody on camp yet, but she had noticed there weren’t many boys so if it was a straight couple or two guys, it wouldn’t be too hard to spot later on. She was cheering for that only for the sake of brevity, but no luck, even from that distance she could already see both were pretty curvy.

They were getting closer, but slowly. The taller one was acting like she was the comic relief of a bad detective movie. Nina laughed through her nose, what were they up to? It seemed like the couple had stopped to whisper-fight, so she risked getting up and quickly making her way to the outer wall closest to her, since they probably wouldn’t spot her while they were turned to each other. She pushed her phone and the empty can of soda into her skirt pockets the quietest way possible and took a peak, keeping most of her body hidden behind the corner.

She was much closer now, and could see the couple crouched under a large window a few yards away from her. She still couldn’t hear them but there was no mistaking who they were. Her jaw all but dropped to the floor because never in her wildest dreams she thought she would see her elegant, serious and disciplined dance teacher crouched down, hiding, looking shady as fuck, behind a building, giggling. But the mystery was solved as soon as she identified figure number 2 as none other than miss Vanjie, who was actually trying to make Miss Hytes stop giggling, with no success whatsoever. She had a hand on Miss Hytes’ cheek and was talking to her. It seemed to be working for a moment, but she must have said something wrong, because the next moment Miss Hytes was falling on the grass butt first, her whole body shaking with laughter. She actually laid down, with Miss Vanjie covering her mouth and gesturing her to keep it quiet, but smiling widely herself. As Miss Hytes’ laughter died down, Miss Vanjie took her hand away from her mouth, and they stayed there, looking at each other and smiling.

Nina took a picture. It was just too cute.

Miss Vanjie leaned down to kiss Miss Hytes on the lips. Nina’s eyebrows shot up, surprised. She knew there was something going on with the two of them, and was very proud of herself to have meddled her way into making it happen, but she didn’t expect to see it like that. She felt like intruding an intimate moment, but she couldn’t stop staring. They were very good looking.

It was over before she had time to overthink it. Miss Vanjie offer a hand and Miss Hytes got up, the couple resuming their amateur-spies activities, crouching at eye level with a large window, looking inside, seemingly waiting for something to happen.

After a few minutes, Nina became impatient.

–

They were looking inside the office, trying to identify something, anything that could give them a clue, a piece of inside information on this uptight new yorker dancer that could result in a good enough prank. Something to give them an idea good enough to leave them with a feeling of satisfaction, of “I bet you don’t like that very much huh, dickhead”. It was hard when the guy had been there just for a day, though. Which had been the answer for pretty much all they had done and thought about since deciding they would do this ridiculous thing.

Brooke had felt excited at first, like she was doing something rebellious, courageous. Then she felt giddy, like she was doing something wrong and maybe she would get caught. Like she was being very badass and Vanessa was seeing it. But now, sitting duck at this dusty window, she was just feeling stupid. Maybe this was too much.

“What you guys doing?” came a voice from behind them, and Brooke was pretty sure her soul jumped right out of her body and rubber banded itself back.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Vanessa, as her nails dug into Brooke’s arm.

They turned/fell to see a smiling Nina, looking innocent as all heaven. But Brooke knew her better, she looked like she was having fun. She squinted her eyes at her and the girl chuckled.

“You guys missed the adm building, you came too far,” she said, pointing to the obvious division between the two buildings just a few feet away from them. Brooke Lynn hid her face behind her hands.

“So what are you guys doing?” said Nina again, sitting on the grass like she was making herself comfortable for a long session of storytelling.

“None of your business, weren’t you having an identity crisis this morning? Why don’t you go back to that?” said Vanessa.

“Yeah, I’m all about helping now,” said Nina, still smiling, “you guys seem like you need help.”

“Maybe we just want to be alone, Nina,” said Brooke, frustrated. She could deal with being childish to herself or Vanessa, but not in front of one of her students! Nina looked at her skeptically but didn’t say anything. For some reason, Brooke felt grateful for that.

“Nina I’m gonna be honest with you,” said Vanessa.

“No, don’t be honest with her!” said Brooke.

“We’re doing a thing. You can’t be part of it,” said Vanessa.

“Why not?” asked Nina.

“That’s a good question,” said Vanessa. ”Brooke?” both Vanessa and Nina turned to look at her, who just gaped like a fish for a second.

“Uh… because…” she looked at Nina, who was so smart and so sweet. She didn’t deserve this. But before Brooke could come clean and end all this buffoonery, Vanessa caught the look on her face and interrupted.

“Alright, Brooke doesn’t wanna say it, I didn’t wanna say, but we love you, you deserve the truth, Nina. You don’t deserve lies we make up at the moment,” said Vanessa, and for a moment Brooke really believed she would tell the truth. ”It’s a lesbian thing. I can’t say no more,” she said, throwing her hands up with an air of surrender.

“What?” exclaimed Nina, and Brooke almost did the same, but caught herself in time.

“Yes,” she completed instead, surprised with her own seriousness, looking right at Nina and putting her classroom face on. “I’m sorry but we can’t discuss it with you. It would be inappropriate. I’m sure you can understand.” Nina’s eyes were wide and her face as red as a tomato in a split second.

“Oh my God!”, said Nina, getting up in a flash. “I’m gonna go, I’m sorry I was so intrusive! I didn’t realize, I thought you guys were spying on someone! I’m so sorry, I…” she said, giving a few steps away. “What is it though?” she asked, turning back. “No, I really don’t wanna know! Nope!” she said, walking away again. “But is it, like, something sexual?” she came back to whisper. “Oh wow, I should not have asked that, forget I said that!” she said, turning back again, “‘cause it doesn’t make sense with the window, I mean, is it a fetish?” she came back once again to ask, “oh my God what am I doing? Goodbye!” she said, going away for good this time, and the teachers could hear her talking to herself and see her gesticulating when they couldn’t hear her anymore. It was a true miracle both Vanessa and Brooke managed to wait until the girl was completely out of view to explode in laughter, leaning on each other, trying to keep it down just in case Nina could still hear them.

“‘A lesbian thing’, oh my god,” said Brooke as tears of laughter fell from her eyes.

“I can’t believe it worked,” said Vanessa in a similar state, lying on the ground with her arm on her own shaking stomach.

By the time they calmed down, they were both lying down on the grass, tears in their eyes and stomachs and cheeks aching. Vanessa propped her head on Brooke’s belly, who put one hand on the shorter woman’s hair and the other resting on her stomach.

“I really should feel bad for lying to her,” said Brooke, still having a few spasms of laughter here and there.

“It is a thing that two lesbians are doing, it was not a lie,” said Vanessa.

“Well, when you say it like that… And it would be inappropriate to discuss with her.”

“See? It all works out fine!” said Vanessa, taking Brooke’s hand to fidget with her fingers.

“Maybe we should call it out,” said Brooke.

“What, you’re not angry anymore?”

“I am! It just feels… I don’t know, I’ve never done something like this before.”

“You never pulled a prank before?” asked Vanessa, getting up to look at Brooke’s face. “Not even on Halloween or April fools or when your ex cheated on you or something?”

“No,” said Brooke, “how boring, right?”

“Baby, you are everything but boring,” said Vanessa seriously. “Now we have no choice, we have to do it!” Brooke smiled and sat up too, getting her mouth very close to Vanessa’s ear to whisper:

“So you wanna turn me into a bad girl?”

She didn’t know if Vanessa found it sexy or cheesy, but it earned her a kiss anyway.

–

They didn’t have much time to spend together after that. Classes were over and both went to tend to their students. With all that happened between Nina and Rajah, they thought it would be nice if they mixed their groups during dinner, which ended up being fun, if exhausting. Brooke also took it as an opportunity to fix Rajah’s schedule so she wouldn’t have any more classes with Dickhead New-yorker. Suddenly everyone wanted to do the same in solidarity, and it was a whole ordeal in itself, but they could all see how happy Rajah was by the end of it, so it was worth it. By the time the night rolled in, they barely had time to say goodbye to each other before herding their tired students to their cabins.

Next morning they sat together again, and Brooke noticed some of her girls were talking louder than usual already. She smiled, finding she didn’t mind it at all. However, she didn’t spare them of a reminder to behave well in their classes after breakfast, but if she added a casual “have fun” at the end of her speech, it was nobody’s business.

The two teachers stayed at the table as their students went away. Brooke was staring unashamedly at Vanessa, already thinking about what they could spend their morning doing. It involved an empty cabin and a locked door.

“Miss Brooke Lynn Hytes?” asked a young man in a uniform, pulling Brooke away from her fantasies. “And you are Miss Vanessa Mateo, right? How convenient I would find both of you together!,” he said, chirpily. Brooke had a bad feeling about this. “Mrs Smith wants to see you both in her office.”

“Who dat?” asked Vanessa. Brooke chuckled.

“She’s the camp’s administrator,” she told Vanessa.

“Oh, right.”

“Are you guys finished eating? I can accompany you to her office,” said the young man politely. They obliged.

“Why are we being called to the principal’s office? We did nothing yet,” whispered Vanessa while they walked side by side a few steps behind the guy, towards the administration building. “Did we do something that I don’t know about?”

“I didn’t do anything by myself if that’s what you’re asking,” whispered Brooke back. “Stop acting guilty, it could be anything,” Vanessa only responded to that with a cynical facial expression. In all honesty, Brooke was kind of nervous too. She had been acting out of her normal controlled self and couldn’t help but think she was being punished for it, even if it didn’t make any sense. She also couldn’t shake away the thought that the universe was punishing her for believing she could have something as good and easy as Vanessa in her life.

She felt her hand being taken by the other woman, as if on cue. She looked at her as she gave a reassuring smile and a quick squeeze to her fingers, letting it go before they arrived at Mrs Smith’s office.

It wasn’t the most impressive office Brooke had ever been in, but it was clearly the biggest she would find in this place, with a simple but elegant decoration on the wooden shelves and a decent sized mahogany desk. Mrs. Smith was on the chair behind it with a neutral expression, politely listening to the man sat across from her.

It was Jenkins, aka Dickhead New-yorker.

Chapter 5: The dance

Notes:

In my head, the song they dance to is Orpheus by Sara Bareilles, but in your head it can be another one!

In her many years as a teacher, Brooke had sat through countless speeches she had had to just hold on until they were over. Entitled parents were the most common, those who believed their offspring were somehow better than the other students and therefore deserved special treatment and better grades just for being the special flowers their parents believed them to be. Arrogant men were another common one, those who saw in her beauty or simply her gender a sign that she should be explained even the most basic concepts, even though she was quite literally an educator herself. She was learning how to deal with her annoyance in those situations better lately, feeling less and less like one of these days she would just slap someone in the face just to shut them up.

Which was exactly how she was feeling right now. She was grasping at the armrest of her chair as she listened to Jenkins talk. Turns out he had noticed the sudden drop of numbers on his classes, as not only had both Vanessa and Brooke’s entire groups dropped out at once, several other students also removed themselves after some good old gossip got around. But since their groups were the only ones to do so entirely and at the same time, it was not so hard to figure out they were at the bottom of this. From what Brooke could gather so far, he had more than half his students quit overnight, and was making sure to make a whole drama about it.

The speech was long, and had too many unnecessary tangents, but it was clear he knew the whole thing had blown out of proportion after he had someone leave his class on the verge of crying. On his account, he was making Rajah sound like a gangster member who was spitting on his floor and flipping him the finger while Nina cheered her on. It was infuriating and borderline racist.

Brooke was struggling to maintain her calm, but she was more worried about Vanessa. She had both arms and legs crossed and was shaking her foot that wasn’t on the floor rhythmically. Brooke couldn’t see her face because of the way their chairs were turned, but she could kind of picture it and it wasn’t good.

It all turned south when the Dickhead started, unsurprisingly, to talk about discipline. Brooke had seen this coming, and had expected some talk about behavior in the classroom, and some responsibility about the situation to fall on Vanessa. But he was actually questioning the camp’s decision to accept Vanessa’s group entirely. He was talking about standards and jeopardizing the other student’s opportunity and all this bullshit that had absolutely nothing to do with what happened at all. He hadn’t even met Vanessa or the other girls, for Christ sake! Granted, they weren’t the quietest or most eloquent of people, but they were honest and talented and bottom-line good people, he had no right to criticize any of that or their right to be here!

They had previously agreed to let him finish his story first before any of them laid their 2 cents about anything at all, but this was just too much. Vanessa uncrossed her legs and leaned forward to point a finger at Jenkins’ face in one angry movement.

“Listen,” said Vanessa, but it was too late because Brooke was already mid-sentence and this ship had sailed miss thing, and she was not stopping.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Smith but it is of my understanding that none of the schools that currently take part on this camp were evaluated to meet any sort of criteria by your administration as long as the documentation they submitted were in order, am I correct?

“Well, yes, that’s true,” said Mrs. Smith, “but if we could please wait for Mr. Jen-”

“In that same sense no student has been submitted to any kind of test or audition to be here, and it would have been quite contrary to the camp’s own purposes to do so since, I don’t know if you are aware Mr. Jenkins, we are all looking to provide a diverse and comprehensive opportunity for the students here, so they can be inspired and better grounded as they grow up and trace their own path in the professional dance environment, values that are completely opposite to what you have provided in your classes here.” Brooke was looking him dead in the eye and was pleased to see he was speechless, if not a little afraid. “I have read the literature that backs up this whole program with care, Mr. Jenkins, something you appear to not have done yourself. I would have not brought my very selected group of students here had I not expected this place to offer every bit of diversity in curriculum and in people that it does, and even in two days I’m already seeing the benefits for my students and even for myself. I will not sit here and hear you suggest that art should be restricted and dance should be a privilege. Even if I was to entertain the idea that any skillset should be a criteria for learning, which sounds ridiculous and let me remind you that we are talking about children here, not adults or even undergraduates, I’m certain that most of miss Mateo’s students would surpass my own in any given evaluation, since I took the time to actually know them individually before laying any judgements.” She turned to Mrs. Smith. “I must say, I am very disappointed at the camp’s decision to bring this gentleman here and submit hundreds of children to this kind of point of view.” Brooke got up. Her heart was pounding and everybody else in the room had a look of surprise on their faces. The dickhead flinched slightly at her imposing presence. She didn’t even want to look at him anymore. “If you still wish to talk to me about this decision I will be at your disposal, Mrs. Smith. As it is, I believe my and Miss Mateo’s intentions are clear and I don’t think there’s anything else to say about it.” She nodded and left.

“If you want, Mrs. Smith, you can ask the other teachers about my girls. They are very grateful and happy to here, and I am too,” said Vanessa getting up too and extending her hand to shake Mrs. Smith’s. “Have a nice day,” she flashed a charming smile at the woman and turned to follow Brooke, who was already leaving.

Brooke was stomping, walking fast and in large steps as she made her way through the corridors. Where to, she didn’t know, she was too angry to think about that right now. It took a moment until Vanessa managed to catch up. They were going through a large hallway now, and Brooke’s steps were echoing as her heels hit the floor hard.

“Bitch! What was that? Now if you had a cape, the exit you did, it would’ve looked like a movie, you went Malef- Malo- what’s the bitch called? You went all bad witch of the west, north, and south on them hoes,” Vanessa was talking, laughing and gesticulating, ”and the look on your face? Ooh, if looks could kill the guy would be dead, muerto, buried 10 feet down, turned into a zombie and eaten alive, haha!”

“That’s not how zombies work,” said Brooke, pulling Vanessa into a dark nook between the exit door of the building and the end of the hallway.

“I was gonna give it to him too, you know, but you did good,” she said, still looking energized, like she didn’t even realize Brooke had maneuvered her to stand against the wall.

“Are you mad I stepped over you?” asked Brooke, taking a metaphorical step back, trying to come down from the anger-fuelled high she was riding right now. This was something she tended to do and didn’t like very much about herself. Vanessa smiled though, hooking her fingers on Brooke’s belt loops to pull her closer.

“No. Keep going,” she said, and Brooke did, doing what she wanted to do from the moment they stepped foot outside of that office and took Vanessa by her thighs to hoist her up and against the wall, where her small frame fit perfectly against Brooke’s taller built. Vanessa gasped, hooking her legs tightly at Brooke’s hip. She promptly threw her arms at Brooke’s shoulders to hold on and leaned down as hungrily as Brooke leaned up, and they met in the middle in a fierce kiss.

It was bitey and forceful and perfect. Brooke was getting hot all over and risking losing her balance from how much Vanessa was moving against her, seemingly trying to get even closer. She started rolling her hips and tangle her fingers in Brooke’s hair and she would have given anything to have a bed close by right now.

“I hear something,” Vanessa pulled back to say, breathlessly.

“What?” said Brooke, her eyes still half closed, her mind foggy.

“Shit, I think it’s lunchtime already,” said Vanessa squirming. “Put me down,” she laughed, slapping Brooke in the shoulders.

“Oh, right,” Brooke responded, obliging. Vanessa reached up to fix her lipstick for her before she tried to pull herself together. Brooke’s brain came back online just in time for her to fix her hair before they were emerging from their nook to join a few students who were making their way to the cafeteria. It wasn’t as busy as a regular school’s hallway, which made it much easier from them to be spotted from yards away by a group of their own students.

“Of course,” murmured Brooke, praying she wasn’t blushing like the teenage girl she might as well just admit she had already become. As the girls got closer they all had knowing smiles in their faces, and they started walking to the cafeteria together, because what else could they do?

“I wonder what you guys might have been doing out there?” asked Yvie, tapping her chin theatrically.

“Oh I don’t know, Yvie, so many things to be doing in a dark corner that goes nowhere,” completed A’keria with a sideways smile.

“I’m so tired of you girls I swear to God,” said Vanessa, rolling her eyes.

They had to suffer the teasing all the way to the cafeteria, until Nina said something on the lines of “I’m so happy for you guys” and nobody had the heart to make mean jokes anymore.

–

The afternoon passed in a blur. They ended up having to talk to Mrs. Smith again because, as it turns out, storming off in the middle of a meeting doesn’t close down administration files. They did so separately, and Nina and Rajah had to go in too, to tell their version of the story and clear everything up.

It ended in nothing, just as they predicted it would if they had opened a complaint themselves. The camp’s activities were set to continue as normal, including Jenkins’s classes, even with half the number of students.

However, their accidental silent protest had a better result than any administrative action or successful prank ever could: his ego got real hurt. Jenkins was pissed at Brooke and made sure everybody knew, and became even more pissed that she didn’t give two shits about it. He was used to being treated like an esteemed professor, not a teacher that nobody liked or cared about.

By the time dinner rolled by, he could be spotted fuming at the guest teacher’s table, trying to find someone new to complain to, without any success. Vanessa even changed seats, sacrificing her usual spot in front of Brooke in favor of sitting on the other corner of the table so she could just look at him and even give him a little wave once or twice just to see him get even madder.

Everybody left the cafeteria in a good mood. The girls were chatting happily about their next day, who would be the last day of classes. Both their groups were set to leave Friday morning, so they could get home by late afternoon since they lived a few hours away from camp. Brooke already knew that, of course, but her insides clenched as she realized tomorrow was the last day she would spend on her summer-romance bubble with Vanessa. She had a gloomy look as she said goodbye and went with her girls to their cabin.

She left them to their own night routine and went to get some fresh air. They all looked so tired she didn’t even worry they would do anything else than sleep. She didn’t go far, sitting down on the grass with a clear view from the sky but also a clear view from her cabin door (you could never be too careful). She laid down completely and looked up. She didn’t know any constellations, but she didn’t have to to admire how pretty it was to look at the night sky from the countryside.

She was trying to organize her thoughts, but it was like her mind already knew it was going to be useless, and it couldn’t have been more than five minutes before she felt another body lying down beside her. She smiled. She didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

“I swear it was like I knew you were gonna show up,” she said.

“Am I that predictable?” said Vanessa.

“Not by a long shot,” said Brooke, turning her head to look at her, who did the same. “Maybe I beetlejuiced you here with my thoughts.”

“Would have been easier to call,” said Vanessa.

“I couldn’t,” said Brooke looking down and reaching to touch her fingers. “I don’t have your number.”

Vanessa looked dumbfounded for a second. Then she exploded in laughter and Brooke jumped up to shush her as quickly as possible so they could remain unperturbed.

“I can’t believe you almost fucked me against a wall today and I haven’t even given you my number, what kind of a cheap corner prostitute am I?” said Vanessa, shaking her head with a hand on her forehead. Brooke couldn’t help but laugh with her, as she laid on her side with her head propped up.

“The kind that needs a business card down her bra?”

“Funny,” responded Vanessa sarcastically. “Give me your phone then,” she said, extending her hand. Brooke smiled shyly as she did so. She felt giddy, and it didn’t make sense because obviously they would exchange numbers, but it felt like an achievement nonetheless.

“What are you doing?” asked Brooke, because Vanessa bit her tongue and smiled goofily as she typed. She tried to take a peak but Vanessa turned the phone away.

“I’m putting down my name and sending a text to myself, you’ll see it later,” she said, before closing everything down and locking the screen, and instead of giving the phone back on Brooke’s hand, she put it directly inside her pocket. Brooke didn’t mind, knowing she would have a sure reason to smile later on.

Vanessa’s smile was starting to fade, her eyes searching Brooke’s with an expressing she didn’t know yet. Brooke didn’t want to have a serious conversation. She wanted to live in this happy, easy bubble for one more day, just one more day. Tomorrow night they could talk about it and make promises to each other just to spend the night thinking if the other one would really keep it or not, if they would be able to keep it themselves. Tomorrow she could start counting how many ways this could go wrong. They didn’t have to do this right now.

Vanessa inhaled sharply, as if to say something.

Brooke sat up and caught her hand between hers.

“Dance with me,” she whispered. Vanessa exhaled.

“Okay,” said Vanessa sitting up too.

Brooke flipped her phone so the loudspeakers were pointing outside of her pocket, setting the music loud enough so they could hear it but not too much so they wouldn’t worry about it calling any unwanted attention. She picked a song she was listening to recently almost at random, one that she liked the beat, didn’t think about it too much.

She put her hands on Vanessa’s waist, who put her hands on Brooke’s shoulders. They swayed slowly and hesitantly for the first beats of the song. What a beautiful song, Brooke thought, what a beautiful woman. Her heartbeat increased as the singer let out the first verses. Vanessa closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the song. Brooke suddenly realized they were both dancers, they didn’t need to sway like shy prom dates. She slid one of her hands to the small of Vanessa’s back while the other reached to take the shorter woman’s hand from her shoulder. Brooke’s posture changed and she felt Vanessa’s body understand what she was doing. She felt her spine align and her step grow lighter. Her smile changed and her eyes opened with a new shine.

Brooke guided Vanessa into a swirl, experimentally, and it was wonderful, both in sight and in sensation. She didn’t have to think to know she didn’t have to hold back as they moved freely into the song. Brooke could feel how her precise movements complemented Vanessa’s unstoppable energy, as she watched and felt her partner arching and twirling and going away only to get closer again. At one point she actually lifted Vanessa up with no words exchanged between them, holding her as they spun and Vanessa threw her head and arms back, smiling, flying, and then came back, touching Brooke’s face and neck as she put her down and they resumed their movements on the ground.

The song ended with them enveloped in a tight hug, Vanessa on her tiptoes. Brooke didn’t want to let her go, ever. She never experienced something like this in her entire life.

“I missed dancing,” Brooke felt more than heard Vanessa murmur, her face pressed against her neck.

Brook kept quiet, burying her nose on the other woman’s hair, afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she let herself speak. Eventually, she felt Vanessa loosening her grip to fall back on the balls of her feet. She framed her face and kissed her, a sweet, short kiss, but it felt like the most important kiss they had shared so far.

When she pulled back, Vanessa’s eyes looked watery.

She yawned.

“Sorry, baby,” she said, still yawning. Brooked chuckled fondly, and then yawned too.

“Maybe we should go to bed,” she said, trying to hold it back and failing.

“Yeah,” responded Vanessa. They still walked together to Brooke’s cabin, very very slowly, but didn’t say anything else, still drunk on dance and each other. “Sweet dreams,” said Vanessa as they got to Brooke’s door, giving her a kiss on the cheek before she continued to her own cabin.

Brooke opened the door with a smile that just wouldn’t go away. As she got inside, she noticed movement on the bed by the window. Nina’s bed.

“If you filmed the dance send it to me,” she got close to whisper into the girl’s ear.

“Okay”, Nina whispered back.

Chapter 6: The picnic

Brooke had noticed Nina was up and ready earlier than the rest of the group. She pulled her aside to ask if she was okay, but let her be and leave early if she wanted to. It was none of her business, really, and she seemed her usual happy self. She was sure there was nothing to worry about, there was no reason for her to be nosy.

Maybe she should have been a little nosy, after all.

They were walking lazily to breakfast when Nina showed up out of nowhere and hooked her arm with Brooke’s, catching her by surprise and pulling her aside to a hidden path between the trees.

“What the hell Nina?” she exclaimed, already hidden by the trees when she managed to pull back and stop herself from being dragged away (wow, Nina was strong!).

“Come on, I wanna show you something,” Nina responded, excited.

“No, no come on. You don’t just drag people to the woods like that, I didn’t even say anything to the girls, what’s going on?”

“Oh, don’t worry about them, they know,” Nina said, dismissively, catching Brooke’s arm again and resuming their walk. Brooke decided to humor her for now.

“What do you mean they know? What do they know?”

“It’s a surprise,” Nina said, with an adorable smile. Sometimes Brooke wished she could hate her just a little bit. “It’s gonna be wonderful! And don’t worry, this time I’m not gonna peak, I promise. Besides, we all have class anyway. I’m telling you too much, put these on!” She said, putting a sleep mask over Brooke’s head.

“What-“ said Brooke, already reaching to take it off, but Nina caught both her hands, guiding her a few more steps forward.

“It’s fine, we’re already here, sit down now,” she said, gently pulling her down. Brooke was so confused she couldn’t even be mad.

“Nina what are you doing? Are you sure you’re okay? Did someone give you something?” said Brooke worried. Her mind didn’t even consider that Nina could be setting her up to something bad-intentioned, this was just… weird. But Nina was still holding her hands, patting them reassuringly, and it wasn’t long until Brooke heard it and it all started to make sense.

“… I will whoop your ass girl, I don’t care if it’s child abuse, it’s goddamn self-defense is what it is, if you think I’m not gonna do it just because I love you, you got another thing coming! You mother… effing children playing with me like I’m your goddamn dolls. A’KERIA I CAN HEAR YOU LAUGHING let’s see how funny it is when I tell your grandmama you out here playing kidnapping, how about that? I will laugh at your face then see how you like someone making a fool out of you,” Brooke could hear Vanessa speaking from far away until she was, she guessed, right in front of her. It was all in one breath too, god knows how she did it.

“Sit down and… be quiet for a second miss V, we’re here, you’ll see…” said A’keria, clearly struggling.

“No, I’ll not be quiet, who do you think you are to tell me to be quiet?” said Vanessa even louder, “I’m your teacher, I tell you to be quiet not the other way around. Stop fighting me! Why is no one helping me what is this place, child murder camp?”

“I’m here too if that helps,” said Brooke, who was still blindfolded but much calmer now that she could kind of figure out what the girls have been planning. She could hear that the commotion Vanessa was causing went down significantly once she heard her voice

“It’s a good surprise miss Vanjie! Come one, sit down,” said Nina, and Brooke felt her going away, presumably to help guide Vanessa down like she did to her.

“Well you could have just said that,” said Vanessa, much calmer but still with an edge.

“We did!” Said A’keria and another voice in chorus. Apparently, Vanessa had needed 2 girls to drag her over. Brooke chuckled at the thought.

“Can I take this thing out of my face now?” asked Brooke.

“Wait! Not yet!” said Nina, “let me just-“

“Girl, it’s perfect, come on, let’s leave them alone,” said A’keria.

“Alright,” said Nina. “We’re going. You guys count until 10 or something and then you can take the blindfolds off.”

“Bye,” they said all together, and Brooke could hear their steps and giggles going away. She had butterflies in her stomach and a stupid smile on her face.

“Ready?” she said to Vanessa, which felt weird because everything was so silent now she just had to trust she was there.

“I feel stupid,” she heard her response back.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I’m taking it off,” she announced as she lifted the sleep mask from her face.

They were in a beautiful grove, surrounded by big trees with thick layers of leaves that created almost a magical atmosphere around them. The light breeze, the sound of the birds and the scattered rays of sunlight that managed to get through making it all seem kind of ethereal. They were sat over a thick cloth in an earthy tone of yellow, with about a dozen paper plates with plenty of food items carefully arranged sitting between them, and colorful wildflowers scattered around. It was beautiful, and the effort paired with the simplicity made it the most heartwarming thing Brooke had seen in her entire life.

“They made us a fucking picnic,” said Vanessa, who was sitting across from her, having taken her blindfold off and looking around too. She looked a little disheveled, probably a result of the fight she put up against her students until they got her here. Her hair was wilder than usual, moving with the breeze that also moved the leaves all around them. She could have stepped right out of Brooke’s dreams.

“They did,” she said. She didn’t know what to do, what else to say. It was perfect. Scary perfect. “Hi,” she settled for.

Vanessa looked into her eyes, then started crying.

“Oh, no no no,” Brooke said, getting up to carefully get around their food and sit beside Vanessa to pull her into a comforting hug. “Why are you crying, baby? Don’t cry.”

“Look how fucking nice this is!” she said, “I can’t count how many times I had to yell at A’keria because she was late to school, but she woke up at the crack of dawn today to do this for me?” she said. Brooke couldn’t say anything, she felt a sting behind her eyes for the same reasons herself. She let Vanessa cry, shushing her in her arms and smiling fondly, feeling her own heart swell because she felt like the luckiest person in the entire world. After a moment, Vanessa calmed down and pulled back from Brooke’s embrace to look at her face seriously. “I think I slapped her back there, for real.”

Brooke snorted. She really tried to keep it in because Vanessa looked so guilty and she didn’t want to offend her by mistake, but it was impossible. She covered her mouth but the laughter escaped by her nose, her body shaking. Vanessa pursed her lips and pushed her back, but in a second she was laughing too.

Her smile, Brooke didn’t think she had ever seen a girl with a prettier smile.

“You look right out of a fairytale,” she said, without thinking. When did she become so corny?

“I bet, after being kidnapped, blindfolded and crying?” Vanessa responded, wiping her tears self-consciously. Brooke reached up to touch her face and wipe a tear from the corner of her eye with her thumb. Vanessa honest-to-god sighed, leaning in to kiss her in the cheek for a long moment. She pulled back but surged forward to kiss her in the lips as if she was being pulled by some sort of magnetic force. Brooke tilted her head and deepened the kiss, but Vanessa pulled back. There she was with that expression again, searching Brooke’s eyes for something she didn’t recognize. “I wear my heart on my sleeve, you know,” she said, quietly. “You’re not like that,” Brooke must have shown something on her face when hearing that, because Vanessa quickly put a hand on her arm to reassure her. “No, let me finish. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. It’s just who you are, boo, and I like who you are, I-” she paused, looked away for a second, “I really like you, actually, ” she said, looking into Brooke’s eyes again. “But I have no idea what you think of me. I know we barely know each other and this is all, I don’t know…”

“Like a very nice bubble,” completed Brooke.

“Yeah. But it’s about to pop, baby. Tomorrow we’re gone but it’s not like we’re gonna be that far apart. You’re not going to the other side of the country, we’re gonna be 15 minutes away, you know what I mean? I can’t just pretend I haven’t been thinking about that! But you, I don’t know what’s been going on that pretty little head of yours, not unless you tell me,” she said. She looked at Brooke like she asked a question and was waiting for an answer. But Brooke didn’t know what to give her. Didn’t know how to say what Vanessa wanted to hear.

“I like you too,” said Brooke, looking down. “I like being with you.” She wasn’t good at this kind of conversation. Everything else with Vanessa had been so easy, so carefree. She wanted this to be too, but it wasn’t. She felt the anxiety crippling inside of her and her defense mechanisms going off automatically and shutting her down, despite all the sentimental things she wanted to say, all the promises she wanted to make, despite for once in her life not worrying if she looked stupid or foolish or naive for wanting the things she wanted right now. “Can’t we just enjoy today?”

She could immediately see in Vanessa’s face that this was the wrong answer, but it was a blink and you miss it kind of expression. She looked hurt for a millisecond before putting a smile and acting like it didn’t bother her.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Let’s do that,” said Vanessa, giving Brooke a kiss so dry it could have come from another person entirely. “Now let’s see what these children stole for us,” she said, quickly grabbing a muffin and biting it. She was not a good actress, and Brooke’s heart sank in her belly as she tried to focus on the food that was in front of her. It didn’t even look as pretty anymore. Maybe in a moment this awkwardness would pass and they would just go back to being happy and free together. She really hoped so.

“Oh my god, there’s no coffee!” Brooke exclaimed with horror. At least Vanessa laughed for real.

–

The picnic was a disaster, full of fake smiles and awkward silences, which was bad on its own without the guilt of waisting Nina and the other’s effort to make such a nice gesture for them. Brooke was feeling awful as they walked back in silence with most of the food packed the best they could to return it to the kitchen (it was too much for just the two of them). She felt even worse as Vanessa tried to come up with an excuse to go back to her own cabin without Brooke, but she didn’t question her. She probably could use the alone time too actually, to try and sit down, breathe, think, understand.

It wasn’t hard to put up a smile at lunch, they were both pretty happy with their students, both as teachers and as humans. They felt loved, regardless of their feelings or issues with each other, and that was an amazing thing to have.

Early afternoon would be the last of their alone time together. At the end of camp, all teachers would come together in a meeting to discuss students, classes, goals, things to improve, all the shenanigans. It promised to be a long, boring, tiring affair that would have everyone involved walking like zombies to their beds with at least a mild headache. Meanwhile, the camp would offer a farewell party to the students. Not fair at all.

Brooke didn’t want to waste those few hours, but more importantly, she wanted to fix this. Vanessa had been a pleasant surprise and a wonderful experience, but she didn’t want to go home tomorrow and forget about her. She didn’t want this to be a story, she wanted it to be a beginning.

Her anxiety was at it again, even though she knew she didn’t have to do a grand gesture of affection, a romantic, end-of-the-movie sort of production. She just needed to sit down and have a sincere talk, but that was the hardest part of all. Maybe it would have been easier if she could just sing at the bleachers or do something else that would embarrass herself in front of everybody and be done, without exposing her real feelings and fears.

She tried her best to swallow down her insecurities without falling into the overly serious posture she knew she was prone to when she didn’t want to show she wasn’t confident. She knew Vanessa needed her vulnerable, the least she could do was try.

She saw Vanessa walking out of the cafeteria and caught up to her. The plan was just to ask her to sit down and talk. Simple, mature, nothing to worry over.

“Are you free Saturday night?” she asked instead.

“What?” said Vanessa, surprised.

“If you’re not it can be Sunday. Maybe Saturday at lunch?”

“Yeah I’m free, what are you up to?” responded Vanessa already with a small smile creeping up on the corner of her mouth. Alright, this was going well.

“Wanna go to dinner with me?” asked Brooke. Vanessa would say yes and that was it, it was all solved and done, good job Brooke.

Vanessa squinted her eyes at her and stopped walking instead. “You look funny”, she said.

“What? No, I don’t. What do you mean funny?”

“Sit your ass down,” said Vanessa, pulling her down into a bench. It was quiet, most people in class already or enjoying the day elsewhere. Brooke was sweating. “Why you look like you’re lying or something while you’re asking me out?”

“I’m not very good at serious conversations,” blurted out Brooke.

“Look, I-” started Vanessa apologetically.

“So you gotta let me finish or I’ll never get it out,” she interrupted. Vanessa looked surprised, but nodded and zipped an imaginary zipper over her mouth, locking it and throwing the imaginary key away while she was at it. Brooke chuckled lightly before she took a deep breath and continued. “God, this sounds like I’m telling you someone died or something, Jesus Christ. Alright. I know this morning I sounded like I wanted to forget you the moment we jumped on the bus but that’s not… It’s not what I want. I really meant it when I said I like you. It’s just… When I’m with you, it’s not the regular me, okay? I’m not fun and spontaneous, I don’t laugh a lot, I-” she couldn’t look at Vanessa while she was saying this. “I guess I’m just scared you won’t like the real me once we’re out in the real world. Maybe I just wanted to milk it for all it’s worth for one more day because I was sure once you got a look at me out there you would be gone in a flash,“ she felt tears behind her eyes and knew it was because she wasn’t used to this, but she kept going anyway. “I thought that it wouldn’t be a big deal, but the idea that I would never see you again, I mean… I got a taste of that today and it’s… It just seems wrong… Look at me, I was so scared I would end up pushing you away that I went out and did it on purpose,” she finished with a sad smile.

“Can I talk now?” mumbled Vanessa, only letting the corner of her mouth open.

“Yes,” laughed Brooke, but it actually took a moment for her to talk. Vanessa sighed and ran her fingers through her own hair before she said anything else.

“First of all, yes to dinner Saturday. Just so we’re clear on that,” she said. She reached to touch Brooke’s hair, much like Brooke had done to her the first time they kissed. “I can’t tell you I’m like this all the time either, you know. You think I’m out there spying on windows and laying down the grass, smiling like all is great in the world? Girl, I’m either at work, going to work, going home from work or sleeping, that’s it. I wish I was crying from laughter with gorgeous blondes every other day.”

“So any gorgeous blonde will do?” said Brooke with a crooked smile.

“Oh yeah there’s a line by my door, let me tell you. All around the block!” joked Vanessa. “I mean, I don’t know,” she said, serious again, “maybe it’s too much fresh air but, I wanna see if you’re that boring for myself. If you don’t want to, if you don’t have time for it, just tell me. But if it’s just because you’re afraid… well, I’m afraid too. I don’t know how it’s gonna be either. I wanna just, try, and, you know… We’ll see.”

Brooke looked at her. She was beautiful, but that was not all. She made Brooke feel lighter, better. She made her hopeful, made her wanna fight for her and chill with her and she made it so that Brooke couldn’t conceive how would her life be if she didn’t see her face every single day. She turned her life upside down and fixed it at the same time. Brooke felt like if she had Vanessa, for however long, and lost her, it would be the worst thing she would ever have to go through. And if she already felt that way in a week, how bad would it be in a month? A year? How much bigger would the pain be then?

It scared her shitless.

“You’re right. I want to. Absolutely.” said Brooke, and she meant it. She turned to face Vanessa and touched her cheek, caressing it. “And even if I don’t have time, I’ll make time for you.”

She was always telling her students about not letting opportunities go, maybe it was about time she listened to her own advice.

“I’ll hold you to that,” smiled Vanessa, leaning in. Brooke met her in the middle. It was a gentle kiss, full of meaning, and over way too soon for Brooke’s liking.

“That’s all I get?” Brooke whined.

“Someone’s greedy today,” responded Vanessa playfully. She got up and walked away with a sway to her hips and a wink, and Brooke gave herself a minute to watch before she eagerly followed.

They went back to Vanessa’s cabin, which was closer, as quickly as possible without actually running. They were ready to press each other against the closed door, but as soon as they got inside their mood got completely cut off by A’keria, who was holding up two different earrings against her ears in front of a mirror.

“What?” she said, looking at their frustrated expressions, “there’s a party today, I gotta get ready,” she said, unphased. “Don’t bother going over to miss Hytes’ either, Plastique and Rajah are over there,” she yelled helpfully as they left.

–

Their meeting started too soon, and it was exhausting, even if they were extremely proud of their students, especially Vanessa, whose girls received some extra attention after the whole Jenkins drama, and did not disappoint any teacher who was kind enough to believe in their talent. Nevertheless, they went to bed too late into the night to wake up too early the next morning. Dealing with packing and bus drivers on top of it, they barely had time to see each other before it was time to say goodbye.

“I wish you could sneak into my bus without your driver noticing and they would just have to deal with it until we got there,” Brooke said to Vanessa over the loud chatter between their groups in the parking lot.

“Do you want a dead girlfrie- Are you trying to get me killed? ‘cause they’re gonna kill me if I do that to them” responded Vanessa, getting all flustered with her slip of the tongue. Brooke pretended she didn’t hear it, but it definitely put a smile on her face. “You do it and come with us, then we can get full high school and ride on the back, if you know what I’m saying,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

“As if your girls would let us,” laughed Brooke. Truth is, she wouldn’t mind the constant teasing, but she couldn’t let her student travel alone, neither could Vanessa, and both of them knew that. Entertaining this idea was just another way of telling each other I will miss you.

Vanessa’s group left earlier. There were hugs, thank-yous, promises to hang out and even a few tears between the students. Brooke really hoped their friendship would last, they were good for each other. The teachers didn’t want to kiss or hug in front of the girls, and Brooke said a whispered “I’ll see you tomorrow then” in lieu of goodbye. As they went back to the camp to finish their packing and maybe eat a little less hurriedly, Brooke couldn’t help but take a long look at the whole place, feeling nostalgic already at how much more than she had expected all of them ended up getting out of this experience.

Girlfriend, she had said. Brooke never had a girlfriend before, despite her age. She was already stressing out thinking about where to take Vanessa on their first date, afraid once again that all the ease that had accompanied them through the week wouldn’t get beyond the highway. She was lost in thought when she felt her phone buzz.

Vanessa: I like sushi Vanessa: Just so you know ;)

Then again, maybe they would be just fine.

Epilogue

Brooke woke up Saturday morning feeling wonderful. She was so happy to be back in her own bed, even more so to rise with no alarm and to a beautiful sunny day. She stretched under the covers and smiled, because the first thing she thought about was Vanessa.

She didn’t remember when was the last time she had been in such a good mood. She even retrieved an old loudspeaker from the bottom of a drawer so she could set up some upbeat music while she tidied up her apartment. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t expecting something to happen tonight, with so many times she and Vanessa had almost crossed that line already but couldn’t on the account of where they were. She would be happy to just spend time with her, of course, and if nothing happened, nothing happened. But she sure as hell would put on some nice lingerie and invite her in.

The day went by, and Brooke found herself half naked staring at her closet, unsure. It was easy to pick what to wear when you have a small suitcase of choices, but wanting to cause a good impression she suddenly understood the ridiculous phrase “I have nothing to wear” as she looked through her dozens of clothes.

This was dumb. Vanessa wouldn’t care. Right? She would just text her and ask.

Brooke: What are you wearing today?

Being open and honest with Vanessa had only been good for her so far, it was better not let her mind jump into conclusions or make her nervous unnecessarily.

Vanessa: OMG mami Vanessa: I’m not against this but I’m in public right now

Brooke almost dropped her phone.

Brooke: that’s not what I meant!!! Brooke: I swear!!!!! Brooke: I’m sorry!!!! Brooke: I was just asking because I don’t want to overdress or underdress Brooke: for our date

She knew Vanessa couldn’t see her but she hid behind a hanging coat anyway. “Oh my god,” she mumbled, her face pressed to the fabric.

Vanessa: LMFAO Vanessa: You’re so cute Vanessa: I’m gonna wear a dress Vanessa: Don’t stress yourself out, wear whatever you want Vanessa: or don’t wear anything Vanessa: I’m gonna like it anyway :P

Brooke couldn’t help but laugh. Guess she didn’t have to worry about her clothes, they wouldn’t embarrass her more than she already embarrassed herself.

–

The date was fantastic. They enjoyed each other’s company just like they had before, and took the opportunity to talk about things they still hadn’t, like their families and some of their past, letting their trust grow deeper. It was easy like Brooke longed for it to be.

“I heard of this place that has social dance nights,” said Vanessa as they walked through the parking lot, hand in hand, “they have one night a week that’s LGBT night, I’m not sure which one though, I’ll have to look.”

“Nice,” responded Brooke.

“We should go,” said Vanessa, “I wanna dance with you again.”

“I would like nothing more,” said Brooke sincerely. They had arrived at her car, and Vanessa stopped to lean up and kiss Brooke. They both smiled as they pulled back.

“I know I’m supposed to wait until you walked me to the door or some shit, but I didn’t want to,” said Vanessa.

“Why were you supposed to wait?”

“‘Cause it’s our first date.”

“Hmmm, is it though?” said Brooke, faking a pensive expression while she pulled Vanessa close. “I mean, I saw you on 6 different days already, doesn’t that count?” she said, enveloping the smaller woman in her arms and placing small kisses on her temple and the side of her face, making her way back to her lips. “I kissed you,” she paused for a kiss, “I don’t know,” another, “five of those days?” and another. Vanessa had an easy smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I think we don’t have to stick to the rule of the first date,” she finished, kissing her on the lips again.

“Hmm,” said Vanessa, “and what does your mathematic say we should do?”

“I was thinking,” said Brooke. This time, Vanessa was the one peppering her face with kisses. “That maybe we could go back to my place. Where I live alone. You know, no one to interrupt anything that we might want to do,” she finished, noticing her eyes had closed on their own.

Vanessa pulled back abruptly, smiling wildly.

“What are we waiting for then, let’s go?” she nearly yelled, provoking a burst of laughing on a startled Brooke.

–

Vanessa woke up on Brooke’s bed for the first time the next morning. She looked around as the early morning light allowed her to take in all the details she had missed last night, and thought she wouldn’t mind getting used to it. She looked at Brooke’s drooling sleeping face, disheveled hair and weirdly bent arm and though she really, really wouldn’t mind at all. She got down from the bed quietly, not yet knowing that Brooke was a very heavy sleeper, and made her way to the kitchen for the first time. She had trouble reaching for a cup, stored too high up. She hadn’t had the chance yet to put all the most used items at a reasonable height.

She drank a cup of water and considered going back to bed, looking around at the monochromatic decoration, where her colorful touch hadn’t reached yet, and the art they would buy on their trip to Mexico was not hung on the wall yet. She put her cup on the sink and walked back to the bedroom, letting her fingers trail on the back of the couch on the way, where the fabric wasn’t full of their kitten’s hairs yet.

She stopped on the bathroom on the way, noticing how tidy Brooke kept her cosmetics, not yet knowing this was only because she didn’t want Vanessa to see how messy she really was. She washed her hands looking at that mirror for the first time, not yet knowing she would get used to putting her make up on under those lights while telling Brooke she should keep her shit organized or one of these days she would end up putting Vanessa’s foundation by mistake.

She went back to bed to snuggle up against a still asleep Brooke for the first time. She had turned around but had no signs of waking up anytime soon. Vanessa put her hand on her waist, spooning her, relishing in her smell that was everywhere around her. She made herself comfortable, fitting against Brooke’s body and closed her eyes, content, safe.

Vanessa fell asleep next to Brooke for the second time, both of them unaware of all the things yet to come, but both hopeful before their own willingness to give their best so every single one of those things had every chance of happening.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #branjie #fluff #lesbian au #dance au #dancing into your arms #multifandomgeek #submission #s11

65 notes · View notes

the-darklings · 6 years

Text

earth is warmer when you laugh [6];

pairing: connor x reader

chapter summary: “You’re not my Connor.”

word count: 3.2k+

a/n: Boy do I feel like I’ve come a long way. I published Part 1 about two months ago, but life has changed so much since then. I turned another year older, my family purchased our forever home, and I have all of you wonderful readers with me now. I love you all so much! You honestly have no idea how much your support has helped me through some tough times. This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful @ilikecheesecakeforbreakfast who created some incredible fanart (and composed a song) for the previous chapter and this story in general. Also to @gilly-jilly for being amazing and writing their own version of the “reunion”. Hope mine doesn’t disappoint. Enjoy!

— — —

“You’ve reached Steph! You know what to do after the beep!”

You hesitated for a long moment, a heavy weight sitting on your chest, “S-Steph? Please... I need you. I-I need my friend. Please Steph, please...”

You tried to say more but before you could, a loud beep cut you off, freezing the words in your mouth. The phone between your fingers felt so heavy, you allowed it to slide from your numb hand and onto the floor noisily.

Steph had teased you about it. Using an old, outdated phone when communication was so easy nowadays. You wondered what she would say now —if she still saw you using it—wondered if she would tease you again or if she would be angry like she was the last time you saw her.

“How much does it hurt (Name)?” the memory of her furious face, and bitter words pierced you. “How much does it hurt? Not enough, never enough. It will never be enough.”

You curled into yourself, pressing your forehead harshly against your knees. Your apartment felt cold, hollow almost, but you couldn't find the strength to stand and move. Couldn't even find the will to go and wash your hands.

It felt too final. Like if you washed whatever traces of Connor that still lingered on your skin, your friend would truly be lost forever.

Friend, friend, friend.

Steph, Connor.

Some hateful voice deep inside of you almost sang with glee.

You’re very good at losing those, aren’t you?

— — — —

“Are you well Miss (Name)?”

Those words were spoken in the usual, unchanging monotone, but the subtle weight behind them made you freeze. Your tired, weary gaze looked towards Bob who was sitting behind the reception desk, face the customary blank canvas as he stared at you unblinkingly. His LED was still and unmoving, and there was nothing on his face that would suggest he was affected by your appearance, but you still couldn't force any words out.

You were so used to telling people you were fine, and good, thank you for asking so much better now. But this was different. There was no judgement, or anger, or pity in Bob’s eyes, just a subtle sort of slant in his silent regard. Your grip on the counter tightened and for a long moment, you couldn't think at all.

The station was quiet this early in the morning, and you noticed the night-shift officers still prowling the peaceful hallways. Truthfully, you could tell Bob everything if you wanted to. No one would be able to hear you, and it would be so much easier to pour your heart out to a kind, unjudging face.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you muttered weakly instead, the words sliding down your throat like acid; harsh and stinging.

Bob stared blankly at you, his head slightly tilted to one side. The gesture stung so deeply, you immediately looked away. Because even though it was so very different in execution, it reminded you too much of Connor.

Blue blood.

Dead eyes.

“How much does it hurt (Name)?”

“Not enough,” you whispered, and felt the punishing truth of those words settle in your heart.

“Miss (Name), if I may, I have over a hundred comfort principles installed in my program,” Bob spoke suddenly, breaking your reverie with his bland words. “You may use them any time you need.”

A smile—weak and off-kilter—tugged your lips upwards, and you rubbed the heel of your palm over your sore eyes for a moment. You felt the sting of friction and ignored it, taking a moment to look at Bob’s face as he examined you in return.

“Thank you, Bob,” you finally replied weakly, even though his words made you want to cry. Except, of course, you didn’t think you were capable of shedding any more tears after yesterday. “I will keep your offer in mind.”

The android did not reply, simply inclining his head marginally in your direction as if accepting your words. Your bleak smile quivered for a moment but you caught yourself before your emotions overwhelmed you again, and moved away from the desk with hurry.

You gave the android a cursory wave, not trusting your voice to provide an adequate farewell. Gripping your bag harshly between your fingers, you walked hastily further into the station, ignoring few startled looks that were sent your way by fellow officers.

They knew, or have already heard about what happened last night.

You didn’t want them to look at you, to judge you for mourning a friend. You wanted to hide away somewhere where you knew you would be safe from prying eyes.

The thought hit you so suddenly you stopped dead in your tracks.

There was only one such place.

— — — —

One, two, three...pause...one, two, three…

The click of the empty gun hit your ears twice before you finally lowered it in frustration. The paper target before you looked torn and ruined as you harshly tugged the headphones off your head. The holes were littered all over the large space, most missing important targets like heart or head.

(“You’re a good shot, for a human—”)

“Stop,” you hissed angrily, practically ripping the empty clip out, your fingers shaking. A heavy, poignant weight sat in your heart as you breathed deeply, biting your lip in mute despair. That invisible weight scratched its way across your very soul, biting and tearing; practically burning you from inside out. You had known this pain once before—only once—and you weren't sure if you could bear to feel it again.

Not again, not so soon.

Lifting your hand again, you turned your wrist marginally to one side, gritting your teeth together in concentration.

You were strong.

You were a highly trained individual who had a job to do.

Pain, like all things, would come to pass eventually. You knew that.

And you had your life to get on with.

Bang.

The shot hit with terrible accuracy, piercing right through the middle of the target. You stared at the bulls-eye with a mix of anger and sadness in your heart. It was like you could feel Connor beside you; a soothing, calm presence that had stood by your side when he showed you the correct technique in the first place.

“It’s good to see you applying my suggestions to your technique (Name),” his smooth voice remarked from behind you and you exhaled slowly, closing your eyes as your arm lowered. “If you like, I could show you a few more tactics when we have free time.”

“Why would you be so cruel?” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut tightly.

“(Name)?”

You shook your head, “It’s never enough. I know that. No matter how much it hurts, it’s not enough. But not you, please not you too.”

You felt a weight settle against your shoulder; steady and cautious, so very gentle too, as if there was some unspoken fear of hurting you. “(Name)?”

You jerked away from the cooler touch, your eyes flying open at the insistent, cautious tone. Turning around in trepidation, you felt your breath halt in your lungs, squeezing tighter and tighter as you stared at Connor’s face.

He was the same as you remembered him—a distant, divine star that made you envious of the night sky for having him.

The familiar dip of his chin, the curve of his mouth and the richness of his eyes as they looked at you unfathomably with something. Perhaps worry, perhaps relief, or perhaps you were simply hallucinating what you so fiercely desired to see.

“You’re not real,” you breathed falteringly, your words rigid and throat dry. “You’re not real. I saw you d-die. You died. I held you—I—”

A firm hand landed on your shoulder again—his hand; real, solid, alive—and you almost felt the bones in your shoulder cave in, and your skin blister as his brows drew together. It was a tight, confused line that made his expression appear more severe, near unforgiving if it wasn’t for the gentleness of his touch.

“(Name), your vitals are worryingly high,” he spoke formally, steadying you as you tried to jerk away. “If you do not regulate your breathing in the next 30 seconds, you will experience a panic attack. Breathe, (Name), breathe,” he added, a little softer but still with enough command in his voice that you couldn't help but obey.

Your lungs ached but mouthful by mouthful, you forced more air into them. The pressure building against your temple eased, and you didn’t realise how close you and Connor were standing till your shaking fingers reached forward to brush against his forearm hesitantly.

“I must apologise, I sought you and Lieutenant out the moment I arrived,” Connor explained, voice quiet and smooth as if terrified of scaring you away. “I thought that it would be better if I explained the situation myself. My replacement was dispatched the moment—”

Your arms wrapped around him so fiercely, you felt Connor lean back slightly from the impact of your bodies colliding.

And it was the sensation. The feeling of the solid, warm mass of him, the scratch of his jacket against your cheek that woke you up, made you bleed with the realisation that—

“You’re alive.”

Connor was still for a long moment, a stiffness to his entire frame that would have made the contact between you awkward under different circumstances. But your arms were around him in an unbreakable grip as you pressed yourself so tightly against him, it almost hurt. “I do believe another apology is in order (Name). I did not realise that the demise of my predecessor would cause you such distress.”

Breathing deeply through your parted lips, you almost jumped when you felt a hand settle tentatively on your lower back. Awkward, unsure.

“You’re alive,” you murmured vacantly again, your hands still trembling.

Connor shifted ever so slightly, “(Name), you know better than that. I am not, in fact, alive. I’m simply—”

“Alive,” you cut in, harshly, shakily. “You’re here, and you’re alive.”

The hand on your lower back tensed against your skin briefly before you felt him shift again, his words brushing against the top of your head as he leaned down.

“Yes, (Name), I’m here. I’m here.”

— — — —

“So...how does it work?”

A busy cafe was probably not the best place for this type of conversation, but it was the closest you could find near the station. It supposedly served some pretty good coffee too.

You hadn’t realised that it was almost lunchtime until Connor led you out from the target range, scanning your identity card against the electronic reader. It was impossible to not glance at him every few seconds. Impossible not to feel the exhilaration each time you saw him, and it hit you again that he was truly and wholly alive.

Real.

Connor, in turn, was quiet, almost perturbed as he gazed thoughtfully out of the window. His indicator was a peaceful blue but there was an underlying tension on his face when he finally turned to you.

“What happened with the deviant yesterday was both unexpected and unpleasant,” he began stiffly, hands clasped together, and you felt uncomfortable with the stringent way he addressed you. Like a stranger. “When a Connor model is destroyed, CyberLife dispatches a new one to take its place. I understand that it must be an unpleasant thought for you, but I hope that it will not hinder our work together.”

You swallowed feebly, breaking your gaze as you glanced outside, and towards the busy street, “So you’re not my Connor,” you voiced softly, resignedly, the happiness in your chest fading just a little.

A replacement, and nothing more.

Replaced like one might replace a broken toy.

He was not the Connor who showed you his coin tricks, Connor who spent long nights sorting through endless case files with you, the one who made you laugh on daily basis and saved your life.

Not your friend.

Just a—

“I didn’t forget you,” he said, his words catching your attention as your gaze turned back to him. “When my predecessor was destroyed, it uploaded its memory. For me...it feels like I’ve simply been asleep, but everything we’ve been through together still happened (Name). I did not, however, foresee you caring so much that it would have a negative impact on your wellbeing.”

“Of course I care,” you snapped grimly, your breath hitching. “You—You’re my friend Connor. Of course, I care.”

Connor’s expression smoothed; the furrow of his brows easing and it was almost comical to see gentleness bleed back into his expression as he shifted unsurely, looking almost taken aback by your words.

A flare of amber against his temple, and he frowned slightly. “Oh. I see,” was his soft, hushed reply. “Had I known you regarded our relation as such, I would have updated my social protocols to reflect it. Last entry is marked as ‘partners’ I believe.”

A weak, relieved laugh escaped your parted lips, and it felt good to feel that amber of joy nested against your heart again. “You really haven’t changed, huh? You’re still you. Still Connor.”

He was looking at you again. Looking with that subtle, probing look that stripped you of your armour, stripped you of any defensive shield you could throw up. It was so unnerving to feel yourself being emptied piece by piece.

For a being that kept insisting he was not human, Connor was surprisingly good at decoding them.

“You’re unwell.”

Blinking, you forced a strangled laugh, patting your cheek lightly, “Wow, tell me what you really think Connor. I didn’t exactly sleep well last night,” you informed him with a worn smile.

But he didn’t smile, didn’t so much as blink as he peered at you severely. “I did not mean physically unwell, although your blood sugar levels are below the advisable threshold. I mean that you are unwell...inside...and I’m afraid I do not know how to proceed since I know nothing of such matters. But as your friend, I have an obligation to try and help.”

“A good friend makes you feel like they see right into you, and even though they find all the bad bits, they still love you for you. Just like us!”

Steph.

There was warmth inside you that brimmed the longer you looked at Connor’s inquisitive eyes.

“Don’t ever change Connor,” you said finally with a genuine twitch of your lips, and Connor’s head lowered in confusion from the ambiguity of your words. “I know it’s probably your programming making you say this or whatever, but...just never change, okay?”

“Change...is against my programming (Name).”

A long beat of quiet followed his words as you regarded each other tersely.

“Wait, I just realised,” you spoke up suddenly, breaking the peaceful quiet as you leaned towards him suddenly. Connor froze, blinking from the quickness of the motion but did not otherwise react. “If there’s more of you out there...does that mean CyberLife just has a room full of Connors stashed away somewhere?”

“While I have not seen this type of space myself,” Connor replied evenly. “I can only assume that something of similar effect is in place, yes.”

There was a stretch of silence between you again, the lively cafe setting filling the stillness in-between as you tried to find the best way to phrase your next question.

“Does that make you sad? I know you say you’re a machine that feels nothing but—”

Connor’s eyes narrowed; first, in confusion, then realisation as his lips moved into a taut line. “Why would that make me sad (Name)? I hold no attachment to my bodies. I am merely a tool to be used as CyberLife deems fit.”

You smiled painfully at him. “Because it breaks my heart when I think about my friend being used like that.”

Connor pushed back sharply, and you jumped at the forceful way his back met the seat behind him. For a brief, terrifying second there was such bright red burning through his indicator you felt your eyes widen in shock, but it was gone in a blink. The wild burn in his eyes settled like a sea after a storm, and then he was at ease again. Calm.

“Con?”

Worry seeped into the careful way you said his name, and his answering impassiveness was almost unsettling.

“We should return to the station (Name), Lieutenant is unlikely to be pleased if we’re late,” he stated calmly, rising from the booth first. He reached forward, offering his arm, “Shall we?”

You rose from your seat without taking his hand, your gaze searching as you gazed up at him with concern. Connor’s head dipped slenderly, and you vaguely wondered if he realised how graceful he sometimes was for a cold, unfeeling machine. He moved first, turning away as he stepped towards the door, and your hand jerked forward on instinct.

Don’t let him walk away from you.

Your fingers gripped the back of his jacket rigidly, stopping him dead in his tracks. He didn’t turn around, and you were happy to stare at the back of his head when you spoke demurely, “I’m really glad you’re back Connor.”

You held on for another few seconds before you let go, your fingers hesitant as you ignored the rigid slope of his shoulders.

You brushed past him hurriedly, and didn’t let him see your crestfallen expression when he followed behind you silently.

— — — —

There was a crowd around your desk.

Stumbling to a halt, you felt Connor’s arm brush against yours as he stopped beside you as well. Officers milled around the space, all talking loudly and pointing as your eyes sought out the familiar, weathered face of Hank.

The older man looked ready to tear off heads. He stormed around, snapping at anyone who tried broaching questions.

Naturally, that was the exact moment he spotted you. His expression looked murderous as he stalked towards you briskly. Shooting Connor a withering look as he came to a stop before you, he looked over your appearance once before glaring at Connor again.

That told you everything you needed to know about how well their little reunion went.

“Where the fuck have ya’ been?”

“Uh, lunch,” you replied shortly, trying to look over his shoulder. “What is going on?”

There were footsteps behind you, and you almost cringed at the voice that registered in your ears, “You two idiots just had to get into trouble, didn’t you?”

“Gavin,” you greeted with fake cheer. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Here to fulfil your daily asshole rota?”

The man scoffed, giving you a lazy sneer, “I have no issues with you, sweetheart, besides your poor taste in company,” he said, casting a harsh glare Connor’s way who was like an unmoving statue beside you. He glared at the android darkly for a moment before glancing at you again. “You look like shit by the way.”

“Bite me, egomaniac.”

“Enough!” Hank snapped, glancing between you three. “Come along. And I hope you have some answers for me, kid.”

You obediently followed Hank as he led you towards your desk. Noticing your approach, other officers cleared a path for you before Hank stopped in front of the desk you shared with Connor.

“This was addressed to you,” Hank said, glancing at the object on your desk.

You moved towards the box and Connor was beside you immediately, expression hard as you both looked inside at the same time.

Sitting inside, bundled in a white towel was a severed android hand, soaking the fluffy material in bright blue blood.

Next to it, pinned by a familiar, sleek black arrow was a note:

FOLLOW THE TRAIL

———

an: “it’s been 84 years..” thank you so much for reading guys! sorry this wasn’t a giant 6k+ you probably expected lol but when I outlined the story (fully outlined for those of you who may not know!) this ended up being a transition chapter since we have another original case next time! Hope you guys are excited! I also hope you guys enjoyed the reunion ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ )

As always, I love you all more than anything (apart from Connor but heyyy..) and thank you so much for your continued support. It means the world!!

LOVELY PEOPLE I ❤️:

@katherineschild @dpslover4life-blog @ceylon-morphe286 @in-a-cupboard-under-some-stairs @ayamecrevan @snooper1 @emmygreen817 @kats2art @fandompotato24-7 @flyingfiremelon @dej-okay @saiiven @kdmpthenerd @arcana-eskallion @unknown-jpg @anseo11 @allheart36 @nomorepumpkin @melissalovesmusicyay @prancing-through-the-rain @tyraneya @tea-with-loki @londonlovinglinguist @meanwhilesmiley @marss-anonymous @significant-annoyancee @shipping-land-hlp @lunar-r-bryce @zarekii-chan @zeddlocket @bookworrm1999 @anxiousklutz @wonders-of-the-multiverse @paradox-brody-chase @fandoms4everyone @trustmeimawhalebiologist @deviantconnorarmy @sweetdayme4427 @positivity227 @trashofthelowestkind @madammarkiplier @super-flamin-hot-cheetos @a-song-of-obsession-and-insanity @generallyuglyduckling @dixie-chick @lady-songstress @binxi1031 @krazykendraisnotinsane @drastically-here @winter-orchid @guardianoftheunderratedthings @the-ordinarylady @my-dark-happy-place @awfully-tired @nightismyname @stainedbubbles @satansladydoor @arkium @squeakthemonkey @losersunitetonight @chocolattaee @assonanceambiance @levina-h @underagetigerdrinker @mynahx3 @chairokuno @pickelope @pota-kun @shadows-echoes @turnmeupside @beesinmyenvelopes @negans-angel-acerk800 @moonbri @almostelegantfire @valiantelk @zarekii-chan @urban-eagle @thecrazybluefangirl @thedetectiveinthephonebooth @violetdream13 @fangirlbitch02 @ragidi @gentledreaming @21putnamp @mynameisgabrielle @glitch-girl318 @elaneth-elf-friend @moosythemoose @omnastar365 @leeeggggsssssss @badassbeckettswan @ultra-violet-starlite @morganster0730 @connorfixinghistie @ conwhore800 @ sebatmanstan @ frodoswaggins @ team-wang-puppy @ royalbluehues @ eccentrically-expressive @ omelys-space @ a-typical-antisocial-fangirl @ belleknows @ nissistylinson @random-stupid-stuffs @feminist-violinist @ask-prototype-twins @calumstuffs @onceuponagleepottermindlock @xthefuckerysquaredx @swordsandserpents @aya-fay @itsjustahuman @sariasardonica @i-do-wat-i-want @br33zy-creations @hlesssamanta @oliolioxiclean @shadows-echoes @rk800isprettydangattractive @honeybeelily @wiltedcupidboi @simplysaying @jamieanimemachine @superanonymousreader @mr-robot-x @sherlockspie @stalecarb @teigra @drmsqnc @layinglonely @gayoats @sweet-fate @certainsoultaco @wolfmothar @avispate @nanameni @samantha-loves-anime @bithepowerofgay @whomthehellisbucky @haurchii @starrypecas @beautifulsilvermarch @rose-01 @mldivers @sujuvixxo @belleknows

#connor x reader #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh fanfic #dbh fanfiction #connor rk800 #connor rk800 x reader #dbh rk800 #dbh rk800 x reader #dbh connor rk800 #detroit become human #detroit become human x reader #detroit become human fic #fic: eiwwyl #I MISSED THIS FIC SO MUCH AHHH #HAPPY BIRTHDAY CONNOR MY BABY BOI

676 notes · View notes