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amphtaminedreams · 4 years ago

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Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart.

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out.

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway.

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

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kjack89 · 4 years ago

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closure

Sequel to ‘tis the damn season (Tumblr | AO3) and gold rush (Tumblr | AO3).

ExR, modern AU, former relationship. What are happy endings?

Enjolras couldn’t sleep.

He lay in his childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, surrounded by the graveyard of his childhood accomplishments. Why his parents had insisted on holding onto every trophy, medal and certificate he’d ever received, he’d never understand. His first grade perfect attendance certificate just seemed like some kind of cruel mockery in light of more recent failures thrown into sharp relief over this holiday weekend.

He sighed and shifted in bed, knowing damn well that the reason he couldn’t sleep had precious little to do with the participation medal he’d gotten for park district soccer in the third grade, and far more to do with the discussion he’d had with Grantaire.

With the reality that nothing in Enjolras’s life was what he had envisioned a decade past, when he and Grantaire had lain in this very same bed, dreaming of a future that had never come to pass.

And with the knowledge that the only reason it hadn’t was because of him.

Groaning, Enjolras flopped over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow, as if the down filling could drown out the echoes of his conversation with Grantaire earlier that evening, or else the awful realization that he’d completely failed at being a remotely good boyfriend to the only man he’d ever really loved. But the pillow held no such relief, just dampening the ambient noise and leaving Enjolras more alone with his thoughts than ever.

He was tempted to stay that way, as it seemed a fitting punishment to lie there and obsess over everything that had gone wrong over the past decade.

Still, while brooding was good for keeping him up all hours of the night, Enjolras had never really been one for moping, always preferring action to the alternative, and even though it would be hours yet before the sun crept over the horizon, he couldn’t help but feel like he needed to get up and do something.

He rolled over and grabbed his phone, figuring he might as well doomscroll through Twitter just to give his fingers something to do. But then he paused, and almost without knowing what he was doing, he clicked on Google instead of Twitter, and a moment later, he had the Amtrak website pulled up.

Grantaire had said that he had an early train to catch. A quick scan through the departures listed on the Amtrak website told Enjolras that the earliest train was set to depart at 4:30am, which was… Even though the time was listed on the phone screen he had been squinting at, Enjolras still rolled over in bed to check the clock on his nightstand, just to be sure.

Its glowing orange numbers told him that it was 4:03am, and Enjolras managed a small, sharp smile.

Just enough time to get to the train station.

----------

Enjolras didn’t exactly have a plan in mind for what he was going to say to Grantaire when he found him at the train station, but thankfully, he was saved by the fact that Grantaire did not show up for the 4:30 train. Or the 5:05, the 5:26 express, the 5:50 flyer, or the 6:30 train.

But five trains and three cups of coffee were still not enough, since the moment Enjolras saw Grantaire in the train station, a few minutes after 7, any words he might’ve half-strewn together in his mind fled, leaving him tongue-tied as Grantaire spotted him, one dark eyebrow arching. “Please tell me I don’t need to get a restraining order,” Grantaire said as he approached, but with enough of a teasing edge to his voice that Enjolras relaxed, just slightly.

“I promise this is the end of any incidental stalking,” Enjolras told him, and Grantaire laughed.

“Well, that is somewhat reassuring,” he said, setting his duffel bag down on a nearby bench and stretching. “But I still have a bad feeling about why you’re here at ass o’clock in the morning.”

Enjolras snorted. “Ass o’clock in the morning was when the first train left at 4:30,” he said before yawning so widely that his jaw audibly cracked, and Grantaire raised both eyebrows.

“Judging by the fact that you look like you haven’t slept, I’ll assume that means you were here at 4:30?”

Enjolras shrugged, suddenly feeling acutely embarrassed by that decision. “I, uh, I didn’t know which train you were taking,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

A smile twitched at the corners of Grantaire’s mouth. “I suppose it’s my fault for not specifying how early my early train was,” he mused, sitting down on the bench next to his bag.

Frowning slightly, Enjolras sat as well. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not entirely surprised to see you here,” Grantaire said. “And, since I figured you were going to show up, I probably should have been a little more specific about when my train was leaving.”

Enjolras opened his mouth and promptly closed it again. “You figured I was going to show up?” he asked, slightly higher-pitched than he intended, and Grantaire had the audacity to not look even remotely abashed. “How? I didn’t even decide to come until this morning.”

Grantaire shrugged. “You never did like to let arguments go without finishing them,” he said simply.

Enjolras shook his head but didn’t bother trying to deny it. Instead, he changed tacks. “I wasn’t aware that we were having an argument.”

“Hasn’t it always been an argument between us?” Grantaire asked, a little wistfully. Enjolras didn’t have a response to that, but thankfully, the question seemed more rhetorical than anything, and after a moment, Grantaire shook his head as if clearing his thoughts before glancing back at Enjolras. “So,” he said, looking at Enjolras expectantly.

Enjolras frowned. “So what?”

“So, since you’ve been here for a few hours now, how about you get to whatever point you’re so desperate to make?”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “I just…” he started, feeling tongue-tied again, in the way that only Grantaire had ever been able to make him. “Well, like you said, I don’t think we really finished things yesterday, argument or otherwise.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “So you have more you want to say?” he asked mildly, picking at invisible lint on his jeans.

“No.”

Grantaire looked up, startled. “No?” he repeated.

Enjolras shook his head. “No,” he said again. “I don’t think it’s me who has more that I need to say. I think you do.”

Grantaire started to speak but stopped, looking away, his expression unreadable. “Don’t you think if I had more to say, I would’ve taken the time to say it last night?” he asked finally.

“No,” Enjolras said. “Because I think that you thought I wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say. But I am.”

He said it as defiantly as he was able, but Grantaire just laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. “Sure, you’re ready to hear it,” Grantaire scoffed. “And I’m ready to be king of France, but alas—”

“I’m serious,” Enjolras insisted.

Grantaire met his eyes and Enjolras was surprised to see something dark in his expression. “So am I,” Grantaire said, his voice low. “I don’t know what you think this is about—”

“It’s about the fact that when I miss who I was when I was with you.”

Grantaire stared at him. “What?”

Enjolras could feel himself flush, and ducked his head before barrelling forward. “When you and I were together were...I don’t want to say they were the best years of my life, because it was high school, and I never wanted to be that person. But you always made me better, made me strive to be better. And I just thought…” He trailed off. “I don’t know. But us meeting like this...I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

“Since when have you believed in fate?” Grantaire asked softly.

Enjolras made a face. “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it fate, but seeing you again – I want to try to be that again. And then maybe…” He trailed off and took a deep breath before telling Grantaire, as honest as he had ever been, “Then maybe we could try again. But better this time.”

Grantaire barked what could charitably called a laugh, scrubbing a hand across his mouth. “Are you serious?” he asked, incredulous. “You want to get back to the person who you were when we were together?”

“Well, maybe not quite like that—”

“Enjolras, I hated who I was when we were dating.” Enjolras froze, staring at him. “The thought of going back to that…”

“Not exactly back to it,” Enjolras said quickly. “Better than what we were—”

“No.”

“No what?” Enjolras asked, feeling like his stomach had dropped to somewhere around his knees.

“No, we can’t go back to that,” Grantaire said loudly, and Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, afraid that someone would overhear. But it was still just the two of them alone in the train station. “I don’t want that. I’m not that person anymore, and whatever you want to call how you used to feel about the person I used to be, you sure as shit wouldn’t feel it for the person I am now.”

Enjolras shook his head, feeling like Grantaire was missing his point. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“Let me rephrase what I was trying to say earlier,” he said, his tone clipped. “I don’t know what you think this is about for me. I get what this is about for you. But just like our entire relationship, if you even want to call it that, that has nothing to do with me.”

“Grantaire—”

“I can’t give you closure, Enjolras, if that’s what you’re looking for, or forgiveness, or whatever. Mainly because you’ve never needed it, but also because you’ve never asked. Not really, and certainly not now.” Grantaire shook his head. “I can’t fix this. I can’t fix you.”

Enjolras swallowed. “I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice low.

“Aren’t you?”

Grantaire didn’t wait for an answer, standing up and grabbing his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he told Enjolras, “I spent the last ten years of my life figuring out who I was without you and building a life for myself that didn’t involve you, and I’m not going to throw it all away just because you’re not happy with the life you’ve built for yourself.”

Enjolras hurried to stand as well. “That’s not—”

“Yeah, it is.” Grantaire glanced over his shoulder at the train station clock before looking back at Enjolras, something so sad in his expression that Enjolras felt the breath catch in his throat. “I love you, Enjolras – or at least, there’s a part of me that will always love a part of you. But I’m not who I was ten years ago, and you’re not who I fell in love with either. And I’m not saying that I’m disappointed in who you’ve become, or telling you that you need to change, or whatever, because I know better than anyone that that’s not how this works.” He paused, searching Enjolras’s expression for a long moment before continuing, “I am in love with a version of you that has lived in my head for ten years, and I don’t want closure on that. But you’re not him. And I don’t think you’re the version of you that’s been living in your head for the last ten years, either. But it’s up to you to figure out who that is and if that’s who you actually want to be.”

“Then give me a chance to do so,” Enjolras said, the words coming out as more of a plea than he intended.

“I am,” Grantaire said, taking a step backwards. “I just can’t be a part of it.” He glanced over his shoulder again, and when he looked back at Enjolras, his expression was resigned. “And now I have to go.”

“Wait,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire paused, halfway through turning around to walk away. “Where does that leave us?”

Grantaire didn’t turn back. “There is no us, Enjolras. I don’t know that there ever was.” He squared his shoulders and Enjolras was certain that he was going to walk away and leave it at that, but after a moment that felt more like a century, Grantaire looked back at him. “Take care of yourself, Enjolras,” he said quietly. “And, again...you know how to get in touch. If you want to.”

With that, he headed toward the waiting train, and Enjolras watched Grantaire walk away for the third time in as many days.

He stayed that way for a long time, long after the train had pulled out of the station, carrying Grantaire and the few other sleepy passengers off to their destinations. Eventually, the chill roused him when nothing else would, and Enjolras reached out automatically to wipe his cheeks roughly with the heel of his palm.

Then it was his turn to walk away, trudging out of the train station and back to the car he had borrowed from his parents, his mind full of arguments he had wanted to make but now never could, his heart as numb as his fingers.

It was by sheer happenstance alone that on his way, he happened to glance at the departures board, looking automatically at the train that Grantaire had taken. 7:26 EXPRESS, the board told him, along with a note that it was still boarding, which clearly was an error.

But what made him stop in his tracks was when he saw the destination station listed.

It was his city.

Which meant...there was really only one explanation, and Enjolras reached out automatically to steady himself.

Grantaire lived in the same city as him.

All this time, he had just assumed that Grantaire lived hours away, and for all Enjolras knew, he lived only a few miles away, or less.

For what felt like the first time in days, Enjolras felt just a little bit like his old self as he stared at the departures board, determination overpowering everything else he had been feeling.

Maybe this wasn’t an ending, after all.

Maybe this was just the beginning.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #former relationship #light angst #i don't want your closure

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imonthinice · 4 years ago

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The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 9/?

Word Count: 1.7k

Author’s Note: Y/N- Your Name, A/N - Any Name (Your Best Friend’s Name)

I am sorry. lmao.

Half of my links are glitched tf out fuck this shit, touched grass yesterday but that grind don’t fuckin stop babey

Warnings: Angst - Injury, Description of said injury, Mentions of Jason’s past, Swearing, Dark Themes, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Jason clutched his right side as he gasped for a long breath of the cold, rainy air surrounding him. Everything hurt and he could barely move enough to text Dick that he was down. He would hold and add pressure to the stab wound sitting directly on his waist, but he could feel the blood seeping through the gaps in his fingers as he held it. His hands were covered by the blood and he was losing it fast.

He wasn’t going to walk this off by any means, he was going to need Dick to go get him and bring him back to the hospital wing of the Batcave because he couldn’t move and he felt his eyes drooping as he waiting and tried to keep his breathing in check, while Dick was scrambling to go get him.

There would be a few questions he would have to answer to Y/N. Not even just Y/N, to Lian, his Goddaughter, who he was planning on seeing in the morning since Y/N was going to a dance competition, or at least he thought she was.

But in that moment, so many memories flew back into his head, the hopelessness as he sat there for a few seconds, bleeding out after the explosion that Joker had set off on him. And then the minutes in the Lazarus Pit as he drowned himself back to life, the water filling his lungs as he cried and screamed. But no one came.

This time, however, Dick came.

Dick swooped his baby brother up and onto his back and he tried to run to the Batmobile as fast as he could, knowing time was of the essence for saving Jason’s life. Jason had broke off from Dick for a few seconds before this moment, and it was the only thing Dick was worried about. That Dick had said to come back to him, alive.

In the car, Dick put his hands on Jason's gaping wound, trying to press his hands into it as well to slow the bleeding, the Batmobile had the ability to drive itself, and Dick thanked whatever God was watching that it did. Jason was struggling for breath at this moment, and Dick was terrified.

“You’re going to be oaky, Jase. I swear. Please. Don’t die on me, it feels like yesterday that I got you back,” he leaned into Jason’s face, “Not again, please,” Dick begged and begged as he rushed Jason to Alfred, who was waiting to operate on Jason.

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

Y/N woke up as always, this time, without a text from Jason. She thought nothing of it, thinking he was safe in his house with his loving family. She went to go get coffee to kick start her day, and A/N wasn’t in the kitchen. She, still, thought nothing of it, since A/N’s lover was over the night before and she had to turn up her music to ignore the sounds coming from the other side of the house. She sent Jason a quick text,

Good morning, Jay. I hope you slept well.

And she returned to her room, coffee in hand, to write some quick little stories about what she had placed in her journal. Not many of the ideas in there were able to be built off of, but she still tried her best with every idea she had, to see if it could be something more.

It normally never was, but it was always something she craved. The ideas of writing a book always enticed her, but she never thought she was talented enough to do so.

She heard her roommate’s door open and then the front door as A/N waved off her lover. It was a quiet Saturday morning, and Y/N loved that as she dove further and further into her work, immersing herself in the story of two lovers who were destined to meet after one moved to the hometown of the other to pursue criminal psychology.

She couldn’t get her mind off of Jason. They hadn’t even known each other for a week but she knew he was worth her time. A few hours passed by from when she sent the first text.

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

Dick held Jason’s hand as he was hooked up to many different machines, he could breathe on his own, but the IV and the blood bags were hard to keep Dick’s eyes off of. If only I had been watching a little closer, he thought.

Jason fumbled in his pain-induced sleep, moaning and groaning as he did so when he opened his eyes to find a worried, sleep-deprived and very rough-looking Dick at his bedside, to which, Dick collapsed on Jason in a hug.

“Thank God,” Dick breathed.

“What... what the fuck.... what the fuck happened?” Jason stuttered, like a blanket of sleep and drugs had limited his mobility and brain function.

“I don’t know, Jase. That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me, but then again, your blood alcohol level was suspicious.”

“I... I didn’t drink... drink that much.”

“No, you didn’t. But you did drink, who was with you?”

“I don’t... know.”

“I think you were roofied so they could get the upper hand on you. You almost died, Jase.”

“Come...c’mere,” Jason managed to say, and when Dick came to him, he moved on of his hands onto Dick’s cheek, “Big... big annoying... big little annoying brother.”

“Shhhhhh, little wing,” Dick comforted his little brother, “You weren’t supposed to grow that much taller than me,” he laughed, “Dickhead,” he laughed again, then sighed, and stepped back from Jason to pace back and forth, he was stressed, “I told Roy-”

“Will.”

“Will, sorry. I told Will that you won’t be able to see Lian today, he asked what happened, he might drop by.”

“He should... shouldn’t have to... see me this... this way,” Jason said, eyes pooling with tears, “No one... should.”

“Don’t know how we’re going to explain this to your little girlfriend.”

“Oh... Man... I like... I like her.”

“I know you do, and that’s an issue when you’re high as a kite in a hospital bed, bleeding out, Jase,” Dick tried to explain, “Especially when she doesn’t know you’re Red Hood, dumbass.”

“Oh,” he said.

“I know, Jase. If it was me and Barbara didn’t know, I wouldn’t know what to do,” he sighed, “Haven’t even met this girl,” he laughed.

“It’s... it’s only been... 5 days,” he stuttered.

“and 3 back-to-back, multiple hour, spanning days, worth of dates. You don’t do that with someone you don’t think should meet your family.”

“You’re... stubborn.”

“And you’re my brother. It doesn’t take blood to exhibit the same traits.”

“The meds... are... are wearing off.”

“Do you need more?”

“Not... yet,” he struggled with his words, “Phone?”

“I mean, yeah I can give you your phone,” Dick said as he went to go unplug and hand Jason his phone, realizing that Y/N had texted Jason he said, “Guess you have someone who wants to know where you are more than Will does.”

“Will cares,” Jason said as he took the phone and read Y/N’s text,

I guess it isn’t morning anymore, huh.

Well that’s on me for texting you at 6 in the morning after I know you’ve been working late.

And I’m going to see my Goddaughter today, so I’ve been sleeping in to preserve energy for her.

Can’t forget that she’s what, 1 year old? Girl must have a lot of energy.

Her name’s Lian, and yeah. She’s a ball of energy.

He said as Lian and her dad, Will, formerly known as Roy, walked into the hospital wing of the Batcave. The secret wasn’t hidden to the little girl yet because she couldn’t remember a lot. But, she sure did recognize her Uncle Jay when she screamed her name.

Will brought his daughter up and put her beside her Uncle, and she cuddled into him, he would hold her back.

“Hey... Will.”

“You look like shit, Jaybird.”

“I feel... feel like shit.”

“You’re also talking slow, bud.”

“Drugs... do that... Will.”

“At least you’re not dead, I have no idea how I’d cope or even explain that to Lian.”

“She... she has your... eyes.”

“She’s growing into my nose too.”

“Your nose... looks like shit... on your face.”

“Okay, dickhead. You’re bedridden but yeah, attack me like you used to, I’ll just pull the plug.”

“Lian... would hate you... you for that,” he groaned as he said it.

“Do you need more drugs? I can tell Dick,” Will asked.

“Yeah... I think-”

“Don’t worry about finishing that, Jaybird. I got you.”

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

The wet ground surrounding the house Y/N lived in was a representation of what she considered, the bad things, washing away from her life as she got to know Jason more. She wished they could talk more that day, but she did not want to take away time from him and his Goddaughter. Family matters a lot to Y/N, so a thought like that just seemed selfish for her to think when she knew that little girl needed him.

She didn’t think he got injured or anything from the Office, it was a safer place than the fuckin Wayne Manor hallways. She texted Artemis,

So, you’re Wally’s girlfriend, and Wally is Dick’s best friend? Am I hearing you right?

That’s basically the intertwine we have here, yes.

So once you’re in this family, you’re IN, huh?

Nervous?

Not a chance.

The thrill of flipping off pap hasn’t left you yet?

Does everyone know about that? And yes, it’s still massively fun to do.

Wally says Dick is the only one who doesn’t think its that funny.

Lame.

C’mon now, that’s my best friend, but yeah, that’s pretty fucking lame.

You’re the fun best friend, then. You see the fun in making a fool of the pap.

You know it.

Artemis knew of what happened on patrol between Jason and his unknown attacker. Dick had told Artemis to distract Y/N from wondering why Jason seemed drunk, if he seemed drunk. The extents they went to to hide the fact that they were the vigilantes protecting the city, they didn’t know if she was going to be able to keep the secret.

Jason would talk to her after that message,

That storm last night was terrible.

I wish that we were together when it happened. I hate lightning.

Well, you were in Cali.

Did I not tell you? My competition was cancelled because the entire country is fucked with weather.

Oh. That sucks.

Do you want to spend the night here?

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

Do you want to spend the night here?

Jason stared at that text for a while. He did, he wanted to spend the night with her, but he was in pain, hooked to machines, with obvious wounds and bandages. He couldn’t spend the night with her.

I can’t. I’m in Metropolis with Will and Lian. Can we reschedule?

Of course we can. As long as you make sure we actually get to spend the night together.

He asked Dick in that moment, “How... how long... long til I heal?”

“Depends. You’ll be okay-ish in 5 days, but in 7-10 we have to take out your stitches if you’ve been taking care of them,” he said.

“That... that long? Damn.”

38 notes · View notes

gothiccwhore · 5 years ago

Text

13 reasons why season 4 review

THERE WILL BE SPOILERS IN THIS!! if you haven’t finished the season yet i suggest you skip this!! :)

also this will be super long because i tend to ramble and i’ll give reviews for each character/most of the storylines! ((half way through reading this i read @jessica-acholas and @analuciacortez reviews and i agreed with a lot of it so you guys should all read their reviews as well!!))

over all ranking:

as a whole, i would give this season a 7/10. i originally was gonna give it a 6 but they get an extra point for all the zalex scenes we got, and i also was thinking of the mess that was s3 so i had to give them that extra point too

storylines/the season as a whole:

my biggest concern/annoyance with this season was how rushed or repetitive it was

every storyline this season was either super rushed or super dragged out- no in between. the fact that we only had 10 episodes as opposed to the normal 13 probably had a part in this, which idk why they cut the episodes short. let’s start off with the dragged out storylines, one of them being clay’s nightmare sequences. i honestly did like his therapy scenes because it was good to see him get help and he was a much better narrator than ani, but his nightmare scenes were so long i literally had to skip all of them i got so bored. another dragged out storyline was jesstin, which i probably will get complains about. i think they have their cute scenes and i do love both characters, especially jess being tied with alex for #1 and justin being in my top 5. but my god their storyline/relationship is beyond repetitive, its been the exact same thing for 4 whole seasons. they break up, have a long speech about how they’re not right for each other, spend the whole season pining after each other, make up in the end and then have another speech about how in love they are. like writers please make up your mind- do you want them together or not?? we also had another repetitive love triangle this season just like every other with justin jess and diego as opposed to the justin jess and alex one for like 2 seasons.

now for the rushed storylines, one of them being alex’s relationship with charlie. i love charlie ever since we saw him in s3, he’s so pure and a lovable guy and i love how he loves alex. however they happened like out of nowhere?? alex went from being in love with jess for 3 seasons to being in love with 2 people in 4 episodes. if you blinked you would’ve missed the “build up” to their relationship, and honestly it felt like they just randomly threw in some relationship for alex because they didn’t wanna have zalex happen. i’m not saying this to be bitter (maybe i am lol) but zalex had 3 seasons worth of build up and could’ve been an amazing slow burn relationship for the whole season, instead they rushed another relationship. zach is also another character who had a rushed storyline with his drinking problem, which literally happened out of nowhere too?? he just showed up this season drunk in the first scene and drunk in literally every single scene we saw him in. this storyline also never got resolved, it just stuck there like the writers didn’t even care to end or resolve it. just like how zalex could’ve worked better for alex, it could’ve worked better for zach too since his drinking problem could’ve been helped by alex. i swear the writers just hate us at this point

characters review:

clay: one of my favorites honestly, he’s in my top 5. sure clay has had his moments where he’s been annoying and extra but so has literally every single character in this show- besides tony lol. like i stated above my main concern was how dragged out his sequences were this season, like i couldn’t watch all of them. also another huge problem i had with him this season was how big of a jerk he was to justin??? for like half of the season he was rude to him and would give snarky remarks/hints like when he was surprised colleges would even want justin, which i don’t blame justin for thinking that clay expected him to just relapse again and throw his life away. the same can be said for when clay said all those awful things to him at the party- his parents not being his and not trusting him like wtf? i felt SO BAD for justin there i was expecting clay to apologize to him. on the topic of the party episode, he literally crashed zach’s car and sent them flying 30 ft in the air just to leave zach all alone to literally die?? then there’s also the part where he and ani outed alex before he was ready to fully come out which sucks, that’s something you should never do but i know he was just worried about alex and didn’t want him to get heartbroken over winston - but why didn’t you tell him sooner??

ani: like i said with clay, i hated how she outed alex before he was ready to come out. i don’t understand how her and clay both didn’t think to tell everyone - especially ALEX who literally killed bryce and would’ve gotten hurt the most about winston?? they both knew that winston and alex both knew each other and met at the hillcrest party, so why not tell him winston is gonna be looking for information to clear monty’s name?? alex is literally the only person you guys SHOULDVE told first?? however i did enjoy her this season as opposed to s3, she had a great redemption and i liked that she finally apologized to jess for sleeping with bryce. she also wasn’t up everyone’s business this season and i loved all her scenes with jess, especially the prom ones

alex: HAAAAAA BI KING WHO GOT HIS HAPPY ENDING AND DIDNT GO TO JAIL FOR FLOORING THAT RAPIST!!! HOW DO YOU BRYCE AND MONTY STANS FEEL THAT BOTH OF THEM ARE 6FT UNDER WHILE ALEX IS FREE 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 i’m so happy he got his happy ending and became secure in his sexuality, that’s all i ever wanted for him since s1. i’m not saying this because i’m biased and he’s my favorite character, but he truly was one of the only characters who didn’t annoy me this season. he had a great arc even if it was super rushed, we finally got a zalex mutual love confession (i’m still bitter that we didn’t get our endgame but in my head we did), and i love how even if he and justin had their differences in the past seasons he was there for him in the end. i don’t really have any complaints about him besides the whole charlie thing being super rushed and so random?? why did the show put 2 bottoms together like we wouldn’t notice 🤨🤨

jessica: jess is my favorite character tied with alex, both of them have been since s1. i loved how she continued to be her badass self this season but a lot of the things she did/said kinda rubbed me the wrong way?? like i applauded her for calling out ani for judging who she was sleeping with after ani slept with bryce, but when you think about it diego literally is a rape apologist too?? jess tyler is literally your friend why would you date the guy who’s defending his rapist?? also don’t get me started how diego treated clay horribly this season, he was suffering with his mental illness and he played pranks on him and called him a psycho??? clay has always been there for you jess and he’s also one of your friends why would you still hang out with diego?? also in the first episode where justin breaks up with her and she got mad at him i got upset with her, justin made valid points he’s a recovering drug addict who needs to focus on himself not a relationship. i don’t understand why she got so mad at that, it was lowkey ooc for her? overall i still loved her i just hate how the writers reduce her to only a guy each season, but she still was amazing over all and looked beautiful!! her scenes with ani were great and i cried so much at her scenes with justin at the end.

zach: another one of my favorite characters who the writers did so dirty this season. i’ve loved zach since s1 as well, he’s in my top 5 and i’ve always loved how even if he was a jock he was still good hearted and there for everyone. i hated how in this season the writers forgot all of his traits and basically wrote him as a new person?? his drinking storyline was beyond random and had no build up/not even a resolution in the end. where even was his mother or sister this entire season. the show always paid him dirt and never focused on his home life when it was clear he didn’t have the best relationship with his mom. i’m so annoyed at how they wrote him as a “drunk” all season and didn’t even acknowledge his struggles. his scenes with alex were great, and i loved every single one of them. i’m still dying on the zalex hill and saying that they missed the perfect opportunity to make them a couple, it would’ve helped his storyline just like alex’s.

justin: oh my god, when i say my heart broke in the last episode it really did. i remember hating justin in s1, and then loving him in s2 with him being in my top 5 favorite characters. he had the best redemption arc, and i loved his portrayal of a recovering drug addict. i’m thinking now and he also didn’t annoy me this season just like alex, he was great and i’m so sad how they basically stomped all over his arc by killing him. it’s clear the show only killed him off because clay started the show by losing someone he loved, and ended it the same way. him dying by aids was so random and made 0 sense, i honestly thought he was gonna die from an overdose when discussing theories because i had a feeling it was either him or alex who were gonna die. they didn’t have a buildup for his hiv/aids- only added scars/bruises throughout the season which no one noticed if they weren’t closely examining him. i’m so saddened by his death and i will be planning a funeral for him along with zalex’s 💔.

tony: honestly a great character throughout the whole show, never was annoying and always was there for literally everyone. tony has always been a fighter and has been through so much without showing it, and i’m glad he got to go to college at the end and see his sister. i’m also so happy we got more scenes between tony and caleb this season because they are one of my favorite couples and are so underrated in the show and with fans ❤️ i was upset when he didn’t believe tyler, but i understood where he was coming from because he just wanted to be safe.

tyler: he’s so pure and i also loved his arc throughout the show, i’m so happy he has friends who love him and him and estela were so cute! i wish they explored more about him and the sheriffs working together because i honestly was confused about that before rewatching scenes. i also hate how they made him feel bad about monty dying when it literally was not his fault a rapist got killed in prison- monty’s rotting 6 ft under hello let’s celebrate to that!! i also loved how he was so supportive when he found out about winston and alex on the camping trip, he seemed worried about alex when winston said they broke up. i also love how alex was the only one who truly believed in him the entire show.

bryce: good riddance!! when i say i yelled when jess saw him when she was burning the tape why did he smile like pennywise?2@/@20so glad we saw no flashbacks of him this season and that he was just an annoying ghost, but even that annoyed me

monty: just like bryce good riddance!!! thank god we didn’t get that much of a redemption arc because i would’ve lost it- even though i literally rolled my eyes every time his ghost tried to say something that was supposed to make us feel bad for him. he’s rotting with bryce 🧚🏻‍♀️🤩

charlie: i loved him, he was so nice to everyone and so pure. i just wish they let him and alex be just friends because that came out of nowhere. i hope he’s baking more cookies and being happy

caleb: such a supportive bf i love him and tony, wish we saw more of him but i hope he’s living his best life <3

winston: he gave me joe from you vibes the entire season why was he creepy lowkey s:@:&;&!392&-03@3&4 nobody @ me but for a second i thought him and alex were cute during the bowling scene then i remembered who he was. he was a rape apologist which i hated, like dude he’s dead get over it i promise that dick probably wasn’t that good that you have to do a whole fbi investigation for him. the fact that he fell in love with monty and alex after like a week is sending me oddjdkckdkdj but i too am in love with alex standall so i see where he’s coming from, he gets points for not turning alex in at the end but i expected him to be a bigger villain this season but thank god he wasn’t because i would’ve floored him

chloe: my best girl who i wish we saw more of we only saw her for like 3 scenes?? the show did her dirty even in s3 she should’ve had more scenes her storyline was amazing :/ i did enjoy her and zach’s friendship it was so refreshing to see a m/f friendship and i’m glad they didn’t make them romantic. i didn’t expect her and scott to date but go girl!!

diego: literally came out of nowhere where were you for the other 3 seasons? i literally laughed every time he would talk about missing monty like who cares if he got you into football he was a rapist no one cares. i hated how he made clay go literally insane by pulling those pranks on him and calling him psycho?? “why’d you bring a knife” MF YOU GAVE IT TO HIM???? he was nice at the end so i guess i’ll give him some points and he also wasn’t a HUGE jerk i liked how him and justin helped each other when the cop was being racist/a dick and that he seemed upset at justin’s funeral

estela: her and tyler were super cute together and i loved how she acknowledged what monty did and didn’t try to make excuses to defend him. also loved how she wanted to join HO and was completely different from monty

so overall that was my review of the season, i will miss the characters so much and zalex will continue to haunt me every night i cannot escape 💔 jess and alex are my emotional support characters who would’ve thought. selena gomez and the 13rw writers you will pay for your crimes this season!

99 notes · View notes

caitybug · 5 years ago

Note

(Also sorry you are working on sads and feel blegh) maybe Rain is too "mundain" as far as prompts. 5? 7? 8? Any of those sound fun? 😂

5. Typed kisses.

7. Kisses after decades apart.

8. Kisses after dark.

Birdy, bc I love you, I’m going to try to do all of these haha.

(Shoutout to @adamarks for looking this over to make sure I wasn’t going insane.)

(1:35): Good morning!

(1:35): Snow, it’s 1 in the morning.

(1:36): Why are you messaging me?

(1:36): It’s 7:30 here.

(1:36): It’s still morning, though. So my original text stands.

(1:37): Good morning, Snow.

(1:37):😘 😘

(1:38): XO.

Day 2:

(10:03): Let me know how your appointment goes.

(10:03): XO.

(10:04): My what?

(10:04): Your check-up.

(11:05): You forgot about it, didn’t you?

(11:10): I’m here, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Baz.

(11:12): You’re an idiot, Snow.

(11:12): 😘 😘 love you.

(11:13): I love you too, XO.

Day 3:

(15:03): Do you think the milk is still good?

(15:04): When did it go bad?

(15:05): It says it went bad a few days ago.

(15:06): But the date says best by…

(15:06): So it just means it isn’t at its BEST right?

(15:07): How does it smell?

(15:07): Not good.

(15:08): Then don’t drink it.

(15:09): What if I just don’t know how milk is supposed to smell? How often do I really smell milk?

(15:10): Snow, just get more milk. I think we can spare the money it costs.

(15:10): But I’ve already started cooking.

(15:12): I’m just going to try anyway.

(15:12): It’ll be cooked anyway, right?

(15:13): I want it known I believe this to be a bad idea.

(15:14): You also said that subscribing to three different butter services was “unnecessary and excessive”

(15:15): I stand by that, Snow.

(15:15): How can one person eat that much butter each month?

(15:16): I can’t believe you would doubt my abilities like this.

(15:16): I thought we were in a loving and supportive relationship.

(15:17): I love you and support your health.

(15:17): Which means cutting back on butter sometimes, darling.

(15:20): I’m going to use the milk.

(15:22): I wish you the best.

(15:22): 😘 😘

(15:23): XO.

Day 5:

(7:40): How is your stomach?

(7:45): Better.

(7:45): I told you to buy new milk.

(7:47): I think there is a stomach bug going around.

(7:47): Probably that.

(7:49): Sure, Snow.

(7:49): That’s why you spent yesterday regurgitating the entire contents of your stomach.

(7:50): Yes, it is.

(7:52): Have a good day.

(7:52): I miss you.

(7:52): 😘 😘

(7:55): I miss you too.

(7:55): XO.

Day 8:

(20:46): The people above us are pounding it out again.

(20:47): Earplugs are in my bedside drawer.

(20:47): If you were here I’d just try to compete.

(20:48): You certainly would not.

(20:50): I bet we could beat them.

(20:52): Come on, Baz, I know you’ve got a competitive streak. Don’t let Richard and Shelly show us up.

(20:53): You’ve got two hands, Snow. I’m sure you could manage something.

(20:54): Oh? Good idea.

(20:54): Talk later.

(20:55): 😘 😘

(20:57): I regret so much about this conversation.

(20:57): XO.

Day 13:

(14:05): YOU COME BACK TOMORROW!

(14:07): Please stop yelling at me.

(14:07): But yes, I do.

(14:08): 😊 😊 😊

(14:09): I love you.

(14:14): I love you too.

(14:15): Can we facetime?

(14:15): In a couple of hours, Snow.

(14:15): I’ve got one more meeting.

(14:16): 😔

(14:16): Alright.

(14:17): XO.

(14:18): 😘 😘

Day 14

I get through security. It’s always a painful even, especially in America. Have to practically strip just to stand in a machine that tells everyone what I’ve already known.

No gun here the machine says with a green light and a beep.

As if I’d need one.

It’s been delayed several hours for a reason I’ve yet to figure out. The weather looks clear, planes are moving in and out. People on other flights are still departing on time.

The only reasonable explanation I’ve come up with is the airline is incompetent.

“Snow,” I say, putting a finger in my right ear, trying to ignore the man screaming at the poor help desk person. “I may not be back until tomorrow.”

I look at the clock. Even if we left now I wouldn’t get home until midnight.

“What? Why?” He asks. His voice sounds frantic.

I hate worrying him.

“This airline work flew me through is set upon ruining my life,” I growl under my breath.

The service representatives have been berated enough, they don’t need me coming after them as well. (Even if I want to.)

(Crowley do I want to.)

“Right now it doesn’t have us leaving for another two hours, so at earliest I won’t be home until 3 in the morning. With the trend of how this has been going, I won’t be surprised if it gets canceled altogether.”

He huffs.

“I miss you.”

It comes out as a whisper, any quieter, and I would have missed it.

It’s not that he’s ashamed of saying it. We’ve said it a lot over the past two weeks.

He’s sad. I am too. I was supposed to be home by dinner. We were going to order takeaway and watch a movie, kiss and makeup for lost time.

Ignore all responsibilities of the world around us for the evening.

“I miss you too.” I face the large windows, looking at planes that aren’t mine leaving the runway.

The blasted airport is under construction too. Everyone said to fly in and out of La Guardia because it is easier, but I’m wondering if I should have taken JFK.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“You better. Preferably before I drink more spoiled milk.”

“Stay away from all dairy products until I return,” I chuckle into the phone.

An announcement comes over the intercom.

“They’re announcing another delay, I’m sure,” I groan. “I’ll send you a text.”

“I love you,” he says from the other side.

“I love you too,” I respond, ending the call and slipping it into my pocket.

(14:36): I hope you get home soon.

(14:36): Threaten to suck their blood, or something.

(14:36): I’m sure that would work.

(14:36): 😘 😘.

(14:37): You’re an idiot, Snow.

(14:37): XO.

Day 15, 4:16

I turn my key in the door, trying to quietly walk into the flat. My suitcase softly rolls against the wood behind me as I pull it in, letting it sit next to the door.

Unpacking can happen after I get at least fourteen hours of sleep.

I place a brown paper sack of scones on the kitchen table.

I couldn’t resist. The shop next to us had just opened, and I knew it would make him smile.

I continue down the hallway, stopping only to take a piss.

In our room, still blanketed in darkness apart from the street lights coming from the road beside us, Simon softly snores.

He still sleeps on his side of the bed while I’m away. It makes my heart feel softer than I’d like to admit.

One hand rests next to his head, his wings spread out across the bed.

I change clothes, relieving myself of all the feelings of travel before softly lifting a wing to get under the blanket and allow him to cover me again.

I don’t have long to process the fact that I’m with him again before I feel something wrap around my calf.

I pause for a moment before I remember.

The tail.

He is, for all I can tell, still asleep. Meaning it’s recognized I’m here and is saying hello in its own way.

I rub it softly with my other foot.

It dislikes not getting attention, you see.

Simon’s mouth is open as he breathes deeply. I think his pillow is a little wet.

I’d call it disgusting (it is, truly), but I missed him so much that I can’t help but smile.

I risk moving closer and kiss his cheek softly, trying not to wake him up.

I know he hasn’t slept well without me.

(I haven’t either, without him.)

Side effect of sleeping for so many years in that tower. We both got dreadfully used to hearing the other breathe, the way we each navigated and slept.

At this point, I think even his snoring lulls me to sleep.

(I still complain about it, however.)

An arm wraps behind my back and pulls me close.

He takes a deep breath, and when I pull back I see one eye open.

“Hey there,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Your breath smells.” I lean in, kissing his forehead.

“Well your hair is greasy,” he replies, pulling me into a kiss, his hand moving to my hair.

“You don’t seem to mind it.”

He hums in response.

I pull him tighter. I need to feel this. Everything.

His lips.

His hands.

His chest against mine.

“And you don’t seem to mind the morning breath,” he states, smiling at me as we break for a moment.

I open my mouth to retort but he puts a finger to my lips, shushing me.

“No talking, only kissing,” he whispers. “I’ve not kissed my fiancé in decades.”

He leans in but I pull back for a moment.

“It’s been two weeks, Snow.”

“Decades,” he states matter of factly. “Each day was like five years passed. It’s been 70 years. I’ve gone grey and wrinkly, waiting for you to return.”

I laugh, being shut up briefly by another round of kisses.

I should sleep.

But this is so much better than sleeping.

I feel something wet hit my cheek.

Backing up, worried there is a leak from the ceiling, I realize why.

It’s Simon.

“Love,” I say.

What’s wrong?

“It’s fine; it’s fine,” he says, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “I’m just tired, and I missed you.”

Another tear drops from one of his eyes, and I brush it away with my thumb.

I open my mouth to say a response, to comfort, but I feel a stinging in my own eyes.

(My eyes have been open for too long, you see. Couldn’t sleep on the plane. I’ve been up far too long to be able to control any tears that fall.)

I lean in to kiss him again.

We kiss, and kiss, and keep kissing. Hands roam, trying to remind our brains of what it feels like to have each other again.

It was dark when we started, but soon an orange haze comes over the room as the sun rises.

The tears start, stop, start again.

Laughter rings out a few times.

“You did WHAT to our oven??” I shout at one point.

He lays now with his head on my chest. My eyes are closed, fingers scratching his head lightly.

His hand is softly rubbing my stomach.

“Wait,” Simon says, jumping up and looking at me.

I blink a few times, trying to fight off the sleep that was about to overcome me.

“Did you get?” He asks, question incomplete.

I search his eyes for a moment, frowning, trying to comprehend before I realize what he is saying.

“Yes, they are on the table,” I laugh softly.

He jumps up and starts to go to the door.

He pauses, looking back at me, clearly wracking his brain with a question.

“We can eat them in bed,” I say, knowing where his mind is trying to go.

He smiles and continues his run to the kitchen.

I look out the window and see the sun hit the windows of nearby buildings.

It’s good to be home.

#snowverylost #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #Caity does fanfiction #I hope you like this!#Me #Trying To Do A Text Fic #lol #<3 you birdy

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tomakethisworldabetterplace · 4 years ago

Text

푸른밤 : 140205/06

(Cr.) Translated by @BlueNight0525 - at twitter

Blue night, I'm Jonghyun

In the old movie "The third man" the man confessed using these words: "I make comic faces and stand on my head and grin at you between my legs, and tell all sorts of jokes. I wouldn't stand a chance, would I?" Also in 'Scent of love' this is how the confession was like: “Under the subject of being a junior, if I said I like you, would you laugh?" The main characters in the movies use quite various ways to express their liking, but never plainly saying it. Sometimes pitifully, again sometimes making the people watching feel embarrassed too. What's strange is, whether the confession is followed by a happy ending or by a lonely sad ending, the memory of it would remain for a long time. Probably because of the thrill one would feel at the time. The excitement and thrill that remains in one’s memory for a long time, I’m experiencing it these days in this place.

The 5th of February, between today and tomorrow. This is Blue Night.

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Right before I got on air I was so hungry I ate a hotdog and a burrito in a hurry, because I was scared the mic might pick up the sound of my growling stomach, I came here after filling up my stomach. Everyone did you have a late night snack? If you eat right now then it’s considered a late night snack right? Since it’s past midnight.

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Listener: That’s right, I like the shivers you get just from the words “I like you”, especially if it’s conveyed by a voice it sends shivers and is more exciting.

Jonghyun: I’ve talked about that heart fluttering sensation in the opening. I’ve also been feeling that excitement for a few days too and it seems like I will keep feeling it in the next several days too. Encountering something new and also when experiencing something for the first time, you mainly feel excitement. A heart fluttering feeling. I think those feelings are quite precious to me. That’s why this time that consists of meeting you everyone is truly exciting and feels nice.

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Listener: Jonghyun DJ it’s been 3 days since you started as a DJ now. Did you get used to it now?

Jonghyun: I got adapted to it but I still get as nervous and excited as ever. Funny enough I’m a shy person so I think I’m someone who’ll do better tomorrow than I did today and much better the day after tomorrow than tomorrow. How is it everyone? Am I doing a bit better than yesterday? How was it yesterday? Was it more alright than the first broadcast? I was worried about this to be honest.. In the morning.. no not the morning. I woke up in the afternoon, since I slept late, but when I woke up in the afternoon I listened to yesterday’s Blue Night.. but still it was... in comparison with the first night, I felt that the nervousness had decreased a bit. It was together with Lee Jihyung-ssi and he really accepted me and guided me really well. There’s a guest for today too, so I’m looking forward to them.

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Being alone is truly hard, just like how no child can run as soon as they were born, they’ll have to crawl at first, then get up, and lastly run. Everyone, I hope you can watch over me a little bit longer please.

Also there’s no female guest in Blue Night.. (pd whispers that there is one) Ah there’s one! PD-nim just told me right now. For me, honestly, I don’t really mind, whether it’s a male or a female guest, I just hope they are older than me and that a lot of people who have a lot of things to teach me would be the guests here. I have a bit of interest in getting some counselling and learn a bit more.

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Corner: “places where music stays”

Taking the Camden town tube and traveling to north London again. This is North London, where a small street is located, Abbey Road. In front of the Abbey Road there’s Abbey Road Studios endorsing its same name. It’s where the pop music legends, The Beatles, recorded nearly all of their albums. Members of The Beatles, who were in the process of the last recording before disbanding, were worrying a lot about how to proceed with the album title and cover jacket picture. Furthermore the photographer was given only 10 minutes. After being pressed by the time, the photographer went straight out of the studio and took the scene of the members in Abbey Road. It was a normal picture with nothing special in it, however the power of The Beatles was great. The Beatles’ Abbey Road album was a huge success as soon as it came out. With more than 7 million copies sold in 1 year, it started bringing in tourists to Abbey Road. Ones who want to take a picture of them walking down the Abbey Road, just like The Beatles. Until now it’s still a dream that’s in the bucket list of so many music fans.

We just listened to The Beatles’ Golden Slumbers. It’s a song that was released in their album Abbey Road. A deep appeal, the voice is really nice. I really like it.

Today we talked about the Abbey Road studio and The Beatles. I also have some memories with Abbey Road Studios. I visited England as SHINee in 2011 and back then we had a chance of performing in Abbey Road Studios. But unfortunately.. My body is that of a healthy strong young man, but why did I only get a serious cold just when I went there.. Suffering from a high fever I remember not being able to finish the performances till the end. I think there were around 5-6 songs, but I was only able to participate in the last song. Back then I had a fever, was in a foreign country and my body was hurting too. That’s why I just started crying. If I’ll get another chance later on, I wanna visit there and perform again.

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Listener: I really like the “places where music stays” corner. It really feels like going on a vacation

Jonghyun: That’s right this corner is about us travelling together. In the future we will go to a lot of other places and will tell you about a lot of music stories, so I hope you can always listen to it.

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Listener: This is a broadcast that I listen to while studying and only today that I knew that the DJ changed. I haven’t listened much yet, but I like your modesty despite your young age.

Jonghyun: Aigo thank you (laughs) You praised me for being humble (laughs) thank you. Since I’m young, I’m in a position to learn a lot. In the future I will continue to meet you with that appearance. Always.

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Jonghyun: 0279-Nim sent in : (Today the middle school teacher appointment examination results came out and my friend passed. However I couldn’t congratulate them, I still have another exam left. It’s a different exam, but seeing how my friend passed I’m feeling impatient. I’m really a bad person for not being to truly congratulate my friend, aren't I?)

Ah and also 2234-nim sent in: (Today the employment examination results came out, I’ve been preparing for 3 years for it, but I failed. I feel really gloomy) is what they sent...

Just like the messages said today, the successful candidates for the middle school teacher appointment examination were announced today right? Some of you have yelled out cheering and some have shed tears. However I feel like that under our country’s system it’s like there’s always a lot of sad people. Of course I haven’t experienced all of that but I can understand those feelings a bit. When I was a trainee with no promises, without knowing when will it end, and seeing trainees I was together with, debut or when they show a really good performance… I think I felt the same thing you’re feeling right now. To the people who passed I hope you can really enjoy that feeling of happiness today. You deserve that, don’t you? Since you studied hard and put effort into it. However don’t forget the fact that one of your friends, who studied together with you, is very sad today. Um..Then for you today I will console you first, then later play a congratulatory song. We will listen to ..

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Jonghyun: Today our Blue Night family is really having a hard time.. 5872-nim sent in: (I too failed, thank you for comforting me.) Of course I should give you comfort. When there’s a happy event, we’ll smile together, when you’re having a hard time, we will cry together, when there’s something to be angry over, we’ll get angry together. Since I’m right here, please send in a lot of your stories. (to a listener) Ah, it must’ve been really hard for you... Just like in movies, there’re good days, but just like in movies too, there’re sad days too.. Since today is a hard day, just like in movies, there will soon be just as much of a good day.. I hope you will find strength and that you’ll find comfort listening to Blue Night.

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Listener message: I’m graduating high school tomorrow, I’m feeling restless that I’m now an adult.

Jonghyun: How restless you must be;; Graduating high school tomorrow.. from elementary school to middle school, and now high school, and also from high school to now having to take one step further to society. When I was like that I thought that I can everything now (laughs) I was around 20 years old, when I graduated high school, and I thought now I can do everything! I think it’s best to feel these things slowly. I think it’s best to put on a small plan and do things one and two at a time. When I was 20 years old, I wanted to do so many things, but I ended up not experiencing them all, and after time flies by, it become such a shame. I hope you can experience it all.

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Listener: I’m writing my resume while listening to Blue Night right now. Since it got cold, it’s a tough time. I hope I’ll succeed with the resume I’m writing right now.

Jonghyun: I hope you will get a good result. Oh, talking about your resume. Wouldn't be more captivating if you wrote something more unique than others, like writing that your hobby is listening to Blue Night?! (laughs) Wouldn’t it turn eyes, if you write Blue Night? I’m just kidding, try writing something unique on your resume~~

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Dialogue from "The three sisters":

The time will come when we will be gone forever, we will be forgotten. Our faces, our voices, and even how many of us there were. But our suffering will be transformed into happiness for those who live after us. Peace and contentment will cover the earth, my dearest sisters, our live is still not finished. We will go on living.

"Today, aside" is a dialogue, that comes on Anton Chekhov’s play "The three sisters". It’s a piece of work that shows how frustrating it becomes, when people’s dreams and hopes crash with the circumstances or the surrounding reality in our society. I said this earlier, but today the entrance exam’s successful candidates were announced. There seemed to have been a lot of disappointed people. I wanted to relay these lines to them. The world isn’t over yet, tomorrow will come again. Today’s ending song.. I’m presenting it to the ones who were disappointed by the results and the ones who were happy with them. To all of the youths of this earth, it’s Radiohead’s Creep. Until now, this has been Blue Night Jonghyun.

Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17fjccKlF5Y&list=PLKl0KJ7mGLDNmETrFMIbxpVV72bNPMYz-

(Cr.) List by @bluenighttonight - on twitter + playlist by me on youtube

#푸른밤 #140205 #blue night radio #blue night #jonghyun #kim jonghyun #shinee jonghyun #SHINee

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themuzzleofnemesis · 4 years ago

Text

7–Memory of the God; Scene 5

The Muzzle of Nemesis, pages 244-255

A vast plain.

A world with nothing in it.

I stood now at its center.

Postman—no, the “Servant of Evil” Allen Avadonia, stood by my side.

“Welcome back.”

It was a short greeting.

Where in the world had I returned to?

I knew the answer to that, now.

This was—the real world.

A nothing world after it had been brought to ruin.

--The world I had destroyed.

That clinic.

That laboratory.

And me, working there.

Allen told me that it was all a delusion.

But that wasn’t right.

It had also been a truth.

Before this world had been born.

The world that I had lived in.

That was the way it had looked before it fell.

Before we had “run away” to space.

That was me from the days I had fought there.

“What I’d like to ask first,” I said to Allen. “Is how you’re here on the ground world now, when you died centuries ago.”

Allen replied, smiling slightly, “It’s not just me. Everyone is here. Everyone who once lived in this world.”

“Even though the world was destroyed?”

“It’s because it was destroyed. Almost all of the souls are here on the ground world as a result of the barrier between this place and the hellish yard being broken.”

“Then are you a soul too?”

I didn’t really need to ask that.

I had just said it myself.

He died centuries ago.

“I see…Everyone’s a soul. Then there’s no more living people in this world, I suppose.”

“Wrong.” Allen shook his head. “There is one.”

“Huh?”

“—You. The sole living thing in this world…is you. On the world’s last day, a deranged Nemesis fired the weapon of mass destruction “Punishment” all over the world.”

“…Inside Nemesis’ spirit was a ‘malice’ that sought destruction--one of the ‘gods’ that had once been locked up in the ark. The voice of her ‘other self’ that Nemesis heard was the ‘malice’ that slept inside her.”

Inside that ark, I had wished for the world’s destruction.

I suppose that meant that in a sense, after a thousand years I had finally achieved my original aim.

…Though it wasn’t all that satisfying now.

“The world was obliterated by ‘Punishment’. But how am I still—”

“Don’t you know? A demon contractor—can’t commit suicide. Your body was blown away by ‘Punishment’. However, as long as a single scrap of your flesh remains, you’ll be revived eventually.”

I had destroyed the world, and I alone survived.

“Never has there been a more bothersome suicide attempt.”

“Ha ha, I guess so. …Your body was reformed. But you hadn’t gone back to normal exactly. Your shattered heart wasn’t restored.”

“I don’t care much for your wording.”

“Then let’s reword it as ‘your body and spirit were separated’. Nemesis’ soulless body continued to wander through the empty world, and meanwhile the spirit locked itself up inside a delusion world of its own creation.”

So that delusion had been the laboratory in the clinic.

“But why did you come inside the delusion to meet me?”

“Nemesis’ body was solely devoted to repeating the last actions that she had taken. Wandering eternally through the same moment forever, neither moving into the past nor the future.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The world’s destruction by ‘Punishment’—Her body was trying to repeat it.”

“But…such a thing is impossible, isn’t it?”

If everything was destroyed then even ‘Punishment’ wouldn’t exist anymore.

“You’d think so. But even without ‘Punishment’ there’s still the thing it was based off of.”

“…The ‘Boy’.”

“Yes, the creature that brings destruction. Seth created various things with that as his starting point, such as ‘ghoul children’ and ‘Grim the End’. The ‘boy’ was also caught up in the world’s destruction, but…as a living creature he had a soul. That yet remains in the depths of Lunaca Labora—the ‘grave yard’.” Allen pointed to the ground. “Nemesis’ body went to the ‘grave yard’ looking for the ‘boy’’s soul, and tried to carry out her destruction once more. ...It took a great deal of effort to put a stop to her.”

“But there’s nothing left on the ground world to destroy, right?”

“The ‘boy’ as he is now is a soul. So then the targets of his destruction would be other souls like himself. If I hadn’t stopped Nemesis’ actions, then even the beings that wander the ground world like us would have been erased. Once that happened the world truly would have ended.”

“…I see.”

By ‘souls’ he was talking about spirit data.

“Even after capturing Nemesis that didn’t mean everything was settled. Without bodies ourselves we couldn’t hold her back forever.”

“So then you came to see me—Nemesis’ soul.”

“Yes. We needed to get her back to normal. …However, it wasn’t a straight-forward issue getting inside your spirit world. I had to satisfy various conditions. One among them was that I needed to disguise myself as ‘someone who existed in Nemesis’ memories’.”

“That’s why you were dressed as Postman.”

“Going as myself wouldn’t have cut it. I had met ‘Elluka Clockworker’ before, but ‘Nemesis’ was different. They’re based on the same person, but when you ‘swapped’ into Nemesis you lost your memories.”

But Allen hadn’t entered that spirit world alone.

I hadn’t seen them directly, but I could sense other people there.

--And I had another question as well.

“What was that ‘Irregular System’?”

“Well, that was a last resort to get you to remember everything. It was difficult for me to perform on my own, so I relied on some help.” Allen snapped his fingers. “—Elluka Clockworker’s apprentices.”

The two of them suddenly appeared from nowhere.

--Michaela, who had inherited Held’s remains and become a god of the forest.

--Gumillia, who had become Master of the Hellish Yard after the duel of Merrigod Plateau.

The two of them had always watched over me after I was reborn as Nemesis.

I spoke to a smiling Michaela, “So then, the true identity of the ‘Will of the Forest’—I know that now. You were the one who tried to save me.”

“Haha…Were you alright when it came to Lich?”

“In the end I never met him as Nemesis even once. Well, I have finally remembered…the connection between the two of you. Though I know to be cautious of him, to an extent.”

Next I approached Gumillia, expressionless as ever.

She was wearing a mask.

Yes, it was the mask of the “Demon of Wrath”.

“You’re the one who sent Mr. Ziz to me.”

“…Because I, couldn’t leave the Hellish Yard. But, frankly, he wasn’t much help. On the contrary, actually, he made things more complicated.”

I could hear a voice coming from the mask.

“That’s true. …Thank you for everything, Mr. Ziz—or rather, Seth,” I thanked the mask.

<…Hmph. You and I have an old debt with each other. Don’t think this makes us even>

“That’s my line. Come on, let’s set aside our quarrels for now.”

Michaela giggled as she watched us from the side.

“What’s so funny, Michaela?” I asked. Still smiling, Michaela handed me a mirror.

“Oh, it’s you and Gumillia. When you two are lined up like that you’re almost like twins.”

I accepted the mirror and looked at my face.

--Reflected there was no longer Levia.

It was Nemesis’ face.

That was proof that my body and spirit had once more become one.

“…Now that you mention it, is there a reason why Nemesis and Gumillia look so much like each other?”

Allen was the one to answer my simple question. “Events like that were occurring all over the world just before its destruction…Though asking the one who created the “World’s Rules” might be the fastest method for answering that, don’t you think?”

“You mean the sun god—Sickle.”

“He is currently in the ‘heavenly yard’. We can go there, but…I don’t know if we’ll be able to return to the ground world once we do. That’s why—there’s something I want to do here before then."

“I haven’t got any urgent business, so that’s fine…What is it?”

“There’s still many ‘mysteries’ left on the ground world. I’d like to solve them…and there are also some people I want to see. First—let’s head to ‘Evils Theater’.”

“…What do you mean? Are you saying that theater is still around?”

“Surprisingly, yeah. That alone is still around, despite the fact that everything else has burned down.”

That theater had also survived unscathed when the prototype “Punishment” was fired at the Millennium Tree Forest as well.

That was certainly a curious point.

“Will you come with me? L—Er, what name would you prefer I call you by?”

“It doesn’t matter to me. Levia, Elluka, Nemesis. The fact remains that all are me.”

When I said that, the other people around us started to voice their various opinions.

“Hmm, I think maybe her real name of Levia would be better.”

“…Elluka.”

<No, she’s Nemesis right now>

Listening to the three of them quibble from the side, I answered Allen, “—Alright. I’ll go with you. It’ll help me ‘kill time’, yeah?”

“Thank you very much. That’s reassuring.”

“But the world is already in ruins—What’s your ultimate goal here?”

When I asked him that, Allen replied, his expression full of self-confidence:

“Naturally—to save the world.”

<<prev------directory------next>>

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morganaspendragonss · 5 years ago

Note

For bad things happen bingo (if you’re still taking requests! if not no worries) - worked themselves to exhaustion with 911 LS (and tarlos?) :)

Thanks for the prompt, Anon! As always, please keep prompting me. If you’ve seen a fandom on my blog, chances are I’ll probably write for it! :-)

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

Fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star

ao3

T.K. wouldn’t call himself clingy. He doesn’t need to be around his boyfriend 24/7; besides which, now that he’s dating Carlos, it’s harder than ever to find time together. They both have hard jobs with long hours, and T.K.’s okay with that. But he hasn’t seen Carlos in three days and he’s starting to worry.

More concerning, he hasn’t heard from Carlos at all today; at the very least, he usually gets a quick check-in at some point. It was something they agreed upon when they first started dating, a reassurance that they’re both okay.

But the firehouse has barely had a moment to rest all week, and T.K. can only assume it’s been the same at the PD, so he tries to think nothing of it. Call after call has been coming in, and the past 24 hours have been an uphill struggle that not even Mateo could smile through. When the shift is over, they’re barely able to mumble a goodbye before heading to their respective homes, looking forward to the following day off. T.K. would do that same, but it’s still radio silence from Carlos even though T.K. knows his shift ended half an hour ago.

So, instead of heading home with his dad, he orders an Uber and heads straight to Carlos’s, concern mounting as he sees the Camaro is missing from its usual spot. He tries calling again, but gets sent straight to voicemail.

He wants to go inside to make sure Carlos isn’t asleep - though that seems unlikely given the blinds aren’t drawn - but he doesn’t have a key yet so T.K. has to settle for peering through the windows and hoping the neighbours don’t call the cops on him.

There are no signs of life, as expected, but the thing that concerns him isn’t Carlos’s absence, but the stack of dirty dishes next to the sink. Carlos is meticulous about keeping his space clean and he always washes up after every meal. The stack looks to be at least two days’ worth - something’s definitely wrong.

He sits down in front of the door, watching the road in case Carlos suddenly appears, but there’s nothing. Nothing, either, from the phone, and the ball of anxiety in his stomach grows.

T.K. tries to keep calm, telling himself that if something truly bad had happened, then he would know, but it’s not convincing. They haven’t been dating that long and, besides, he’s not even sure if he believes in any of that stuff anymore.

The minutes crawl past into half an hour, and then a full hour, and it’s official - T.K.’s panicking. He’s desperate enough to try calling Michelle, begging her number off his dad, which had been a conversation he’d rather have avoided.

(“What do you need Michelle for, are you hurt?”

“No, Dad, I’m fine. I just need to talk to her about Carlos.”

“Carlos is hurt?”)

She picks up on the fourth ring, just as T.K. is beginning to despair of an answer.

“Michelle, hi, it’s T.K.”

“T.K.?” she answers, voice bleary and, fuck, T.K. had forgotten how late it is. “Is everything okay? Is something wrong with you or your dad?”

“No, we’re both fine. Sorry to wake you,” he says awkwardly. “It’s, uh, actually it’s about Carlos.”

“Carlos? Is he okay?” She sounds more awake now and, guilty as he feels, T.K.’s glad she’s there.

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you,” he tells her. “I just - I haven’t heard from him at all today, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen him, and I know you guys are friends, and I was wondering if he told you anything?”

“Anything about what?” she asks.

T.K. grimaces. “I… About anything? Like, has something come up at work, or…” he trails off, helpless and shrugs, sighing. Michelle is silent on the other end, and T.K. wonders if he’s just overreacting and she’s going to tell him to damn well leave her alone, though that doesn’t really seem like Michelle’s style -

“Carlos hasn’t told me anything but I’ve heard through the grapevine that they’re dealing with a pretty big case,” Michelle says, and T.K. could have wept with relief. “Maybe he’s pulling some overtime?”

T.K. almost laughs, then. Because of course he’s been sitting here worrying that something dramatic has gone down when it’s probably just a bit of overtime. He hurriedly thanks Michelle and cuts the call, sighing deeply.

And yet, a little bit of overtime still doesn’t explain why they haven’t seen each other for days, why Carlos still hasn’t replied to the text T.K. sent nearly six hours ago. And it’s knocking on one am, pretty much two hours after Carlos’s shift ended - not even an important case can warrant that much overtime.

He has to see Carlos, he decides. Has to know that he’s okay.

The station isn’t too far from Carlos’s place, so T.K. forgoes an Uber, opting instead to sprint there, the exhaustion from earlier all but forgotten.

As luck would have it, Carlos is walking - or, more accurately, stumbling - out of the station just as T.K. gets there. He frowns as soon as he spots T.K., but before he can say anything, T.K.’s pulling him into a hug, relief filling him.

“What’re you doing here?” Carlos mumbles.

T.K. pulls away, examining Carlos’s appearance. He looks terrible, face pale and dark bruises underneath his eyes. He seems to be swaying a little, too, and T.K. doesn’t want to let go of him lest he fall over.

“You didn’t answer my text,” he responds, not even caring about how whiny he sounds.

“Sorry, it was just so busy, and -”

“It’s fine,” T.K. interrupts. This isn’t supposed to be a guilt trip; he’s just relieved to see Carlos is okay. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”

“You don’t even have a car,” Carlos points out. “I can drive myself.”

T.K. raises an eyebrow. “You can barely even walk,” he says. “I’m driving, give me your keys.”

Carlos sighs, but doesn’t protest, which is testament to how exhausted he must be. He’s threatened T.K. no less than four times over touching the Camaro; for him to let T.K. drive it is something that would only happen when he’s too drunk or tired to say no.

Carlos is asleep almost as soon as he gets in the car, and T.K. hates to wake him when they get back to his house. He also has to help him undress before they both crawl into bed, T.K.’s own eyes starting to get heavy at this point. He steals Carlos’s phone before he falls asleep, turning off all of his alarms for the next morning and silencing any notifications that could wake him. Smiling to himself, T.K. wraps his arms around Carlos and closes his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep.

T.K. wakes before Carlos the next morning. He gets up, careful not to disturb him, and pulls on some boxers, tip-toeing out of the bedroom, though not before snapping a picture of his sleeping boyfriend.

He heads into the kitchen and begins clearing up, washing and putting away the dishes, and picking up the odds and ends that are lying around the room. When he’s done, he sets about making breakfast; T.K.’s no cook, not like Carlos is, but he can manage breakfast.

The smell of bacon must finally wake Carlos, because the next thing T.K. hears is a bang coming from the bedroom, followed by a stream of swearing. He grins and heads over, leaning casually against the door frame as he watches Carlos scramble to get ready.

“What the fuck, T.K.?” Carlos says once he spots him. “Why didn’t you wake me? My shift started hours ago!”

“You don’t have a shift today,” T.K. says, grin widening.

Carlos stares at him as though he’s grown an extra head. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

T.K. shrugs and walks over, reaching out to grab one of Carlos’s hands. “I may or may not have stolen your boss’s number from your phone,” he says. “And I may or may not have told him that you were sick and couldn’t possibly come in today.”

“What the fuck?” Carlos repeats. “T.K. you can’t do things like that! Besides, I’m fine!”

“Yeah, because you actually slept last night,” T.K. counters, suddenly serious. “Look, you were dead on your feet when we left the station. Can you honestly tell me you’ve had more than a couple hours this whole week?”

Carlos opens his mouth as if to argue, then relents, sighing. “Alright, you’ve got a point. And I suppose I could do with a day off.”

“Glad we’re in agreement,” T.K. says, nodding triumphantly. “Come on, I’ve made breakfast.”

Carlos raises his eyebrows, then sniffs. “It’s burning,” he says, and then it’s T.K.’s turn to swear, running out of the bedroom to attempt to salvage the blackened husk of the bacon.

Carlos’s laughter follows him, and T.K. suddenly realises how much he’s missed this. And even though it’s only been three days, it was three days too long; he wants to spend every moment he can with Carlos.

And he’s got a few ideas for how they can make up the lost time.

#bad things happen bingo #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #michelle blake #tk x carlos #911ls #lone star #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #anonymous

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years ago

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TEMPO (racer! reader x sehun, nct and exo) #1

This is a 5 part story of Racer!you x Sehun, however your squad is made up of NCT members.. so this is kinda exo x nct x you!

ENJOYYY I HOPE THIS 5 PART STORY DOESN’T LET YOU DOWN... The parts will be posted every day.. so watch out for Thursday to Sunday

WARNING : WILD RACING, SMOKING (DON’T OKAY PLEASE, EVEN I do not smoke.. ps my reader here uses “hyung” to address men because she is raised like a boy.

NCT boys here are Jaehyun, Taeyong, Yuta, Johnny

*******************************

Sehun dishevels his dark brown locks once again as his fingers constantly press a button on his remote control. The screen in front of him blinks and shows different pictures which fail to grab his attention.

Sehun sighs in agony. It’s Saturday night and he has nothing to do, no one to get laid, and no reasons to sleep yet. Now he realizes how lonely he is after he broke up with his previous girl friend who sneaked behind him to get into his best friend’s (Kai) pants. Yes Sehun dated her for a good two years and in the last three months she slept with Kai. He caught her red handed when he came to Kai’s room; unplanned, to take the homework he left. That day ended his relationship with the girl and his friendship with Kai.

Sehun has been doing well the past few months forgetting the memories, leaving Kai behind, and moving on. He is thankful for Johnny and his friends who accept him nicely into the gang. Sehun does not meet his fellow friends: Chanyeol and Baekhyun as frequent as he did before mainly because Kai shares an apartment with them. Sehun met Johnny from his philosophy class and they happen to have the same hobby, therefore they start to be best friends.

Usually on Saturday nights, Sehun has some fun with Chanyeol and the others; probably catching on with their games, talking about some girls here and there, Baekhyun challenges them for a match in PUBG, Suho annoys them with his dad jokes, Lay and Chanyeol might work on their music, and Kai? He’ll be with Sehun laughing their ass off when Baekhyun lost a game. Hufth he really misses Kai, but at the same time he hates him with all his heart. How could a best friend do that?

But truth is : best friends are the ‘best’ back-stabber right?

Sehun turns his TV off when he heard a knock on the door. Lazily he proceeds to grab the door.

“Yeah-“ he opens the door to see the person disturbing his peaceful night- “Oh, it’s you.”

Sehun steps aside to let the man behind the door in.

“What is it Johnny?” Sehun questions when the tall man makes his way to his cooler and ponders over the glass to pick which drink he wants.

Johnny grabs a can of Carlsberg, pops it open and quenches his thirst. Sehun rolls his eyes then snaps, “If you’re only here for my drinks… put some dollars there and leave.”

Johnny takes his time to finish the last drop and after applying pressure to crumple the can he finally speaks up.

“I see you have no company tonight. The TVs are boring, mind to follow me?” he asks while tossing the unformed can between his hands.

“What? Where?” Sehun deems more explanation.

“Somewhere you might never have been before-“ he glances at his wrist and back to Sehun “the offer’s short. Are you coming or not?”

Sehun looks puzzled. Johnny out of the blue knocked his apartment door, finished a can of beer, and suddenly asked him to join him.

“It will be interesting I promise. At least more interesting than sitting in your dull apartment crying over your ex.” Johnny shrugs his shoulder playfully and tosses the can to the bin.

“Fine. I agree just because I have nothing to do, and seeing you made time to come and pick me up… it better be something good.” Sehun jogs and grabs his denim jacket and jumps into his boots. Judging by Johnny’s fashion he knows a sneaker won’t do good.

“Nice choice. You’re quick in observing eh?” Johnny slaps his back and walks out of the small flat.

“Walk faster please.” With that one sentence, Sehun locks his door and catches up his friend’s long steps.

Sehun finds out that they are not alone. He sees Taeyong, Jaehyun, and Yuta lounging over the basement smoking a stick of cigarette.

“You’re finally here! Took you almost one box of this.” Jaehyun playfully shakes the half empty cigarette box. (The four shares them, duhh)

“Where’s your manner-” Sehun smirks and opens his hand to which Yuta quickly places a bar “-thank you! Now shall we get going?”

Taeyong laughs at his arrogance. “I don’t promise you will like where we’re headed. Note that it’s our job-“ he points at himself then to Yuta and Jaehyun “- Johnny is only accompanying us and we think you’ll be lonely after your drama… so let’s see how this goes.”

Sehun keeps his mouth close and follows them into their car. After an hour drive out of the city, they reach a vast crowded area on the outskirt of the busy streets. There are no tracks or path there, but judging by the numerous two wheeled vehicles and spot lights exposing a route, Sehun knows they are in a wild motor tracking area. He did not know these 4 calm looking guys are into this kind of sport, but that explains their fashion style! Lots of leathers, tight pants, chains, and that smoldering look.

Sehun jumps off the car and looks around for a while; just to realize he is no longer with the gang. He lost them, but before catching up, he decided to look around for a little while.

The brunette is mesmerized by the shining slim bodies of the motors. There are several bikes displayed nicely side by side, each one having their own personal strikes of colors and styles. One motor caught his attention, the simplest one, with just a sticker of 127 in a bold neon green prints. He carefully runs his finger through the neat numbers then quickly pulls them back when a small voice calls him.

“Hey-“ the person taps his shoulder “- I believe we are not to touch any thing used for the race. People might claim it for cheating if something goes wrong later.”

Sehun bashfully keeps his hand together and apologizes “Oh! I’m sorry.” He brings his hand to his neck and slowly makes an eye contact to the girl, who called him off, in front of him.

“No worries, no one saw it except me. Besides you look new here.” She runs her eyes scanning him from top to bottom. She smiles when the flustered man gives out his hand “Sehun. Yes I’m new here. And you? You yourself looks a bit out of place here.”

Sehun clearly lost control of his mouth. How can he made such a blunt comment about this stunning girl across him. Yes she looks young, without her height people will definitely ban her to be here.

Right within his vision is a girl not taller than him, slightly shorter, wrapped in a comfortable ripped skinny black jeans and a white tee shirt with black leather jackets. Her long hair is neat under her cap. Her eyes are calm, her hair is strangely the cute hue of cotton candy, and her cute dimple smile defines the title of “nice cute girls you wish you can date” Sehun envies her eternal young genes. And yes he wonders why the hell is she here.

She seems taken aback by his comment, but plays along quickly “I’m also surprised I’m here. What brings you here?” She smoothly drives the conversation.

“I’m tagging along my friends… and I lost them when we arrived here-“ He cranes his neck over the crowds to look for his squad “-Johnny is over there. The others I don’t see them. No worries.”

She smiles and Sehun melts. “So you really don’t know what’s happening here?” she asks.

Sehun nods then darts his eyes to his surrounding. The crowd is moving to the sides when 10 motors are growling their engines on the starting line. The MC shouts some opening remarks.

Guess the first round is starting in 5 minutes. “I sense it’s some wild racing?” He returns his vision to the girl beside him.

“Right. As clear as a day. They do wild race here. Practically like Moto Gp but without the sponsors, live cam, and rules. It stands to its name. Wild race. No rules, just start from the starting line and find your way to the finish line.” without much emotion she explains it to Sehun.

“I don’t get it.. why are they doing this?” Sehun wonders. The first race started and he saw how dangerous this game is. “How do you determine the winner?” Sehun earlier saw someone walking around the crowds collecting moneys and he puts them under one box and gives it to the judge. Which they did not keep directly. He wonders if that is the betting money.

“The one not under drugs or booster, the one who reaches the finish line, and the one who performs best in the eyes of the judges. There’s some scoring system that I also don’t quite get it. Worry not there are medical team and a professional judge.” She looks into the distance: the dusty and dirty race track.

“What does the winner gets?” Sehun asks.

“Money. They win money and fame maybe. I am also like you. I don’t get this whole thing.” She shrugs her shoulder acting like she also doesn’t get why this thing is allowed.

Sehun secretly smiles at her comment. Funny how the two of them doesn’t like being here and happens to bump into each other. Just as he is about to dive deeper into the conversation, Johnny calls him and walks towards him.

“Looks like your friend is looking for you Sehun, I’ll be going. See you.. somewhere else.. I think you don’t like this thing and won’t be coming back!” she turns around.

“Yeah. It’s not my style… hey you haven’t tell me your name.” Sehun yells a bit. She successfully heard him and turns around her heels, “It’s (y/n)! See you on another chance!” she smiles, walks through the crowd and disappears.

“You’re here! I’ve been looking for you around. Come on let’s get ready the real deal is starting in 7 minutes.” Johnny grabs his hand and drags him to one side of the audience area.

They are simply standing by the opposing sides of the track. Between them are the racers and their motors. Sehun’s surprised when he sees the motor that caught his attention earlier. The 127 motor is there. “Where are Taeyong and the others?” Sehun raises his brow to Johnny.

“Right I forgot to tell you. Taeyong is a manager.. Jaehyun is the mechanic and Yuta-“ Sehun cuts him off “Yuta is the racer?”

“Yes but not for tonight. You’ll be surprised to know our racer.” Johnny speaks a bit louder to match the voice of the crowds and the engines. “They have the best player.. it’s that one.. the one with 127 printed on the jacket.” Johnny points at a person.

Sehun’s eyes widen when he coincidentally exchange gazes with the girl behind the helmet. She shoots him her playful shrugs and after putting on her helmet, she jumps over her seat and roars her engines. “(y/n)?” Sehun accidentally lets her name slips.

“Oh you know? Yeah it’s her. She’s been playing for three month and Taeyong has never been this proud. She’s the best he ever had.” Johnny comments while having his eyes locked on the racers and to the MC who begins to announce tonight’s line up.

“This race is open for all genders. Don’t be surprised. Oh tonight’s opponent is easy Sehun! It’s a real piece of cake.” Johnny claps excitedly on the contrary, Sehun is worried sick. Why must a girl like her compete in something dangerous and dirty like this.

The whistle is blown and the flags are down, the ten motors wildly accelerates through the dark dusty road and 300 meters to the race, three contestants are knocked down. 500 meters into the dark night another two falls. Sehun can’t see which one in the dark is (y/n) but he hopes she is not falling behind. He hopes with all his might she is okay and alright. Sehun knows falling down from a high speed motor cycle is not something small. He knows the danger and he is worried sick (y/n) will end like that.

“Johnny… tell me who are the competitors tonight.” Sehun tries his best to concentrate on the shadows in the dark. The lack of constant lighting made it hard to keep track of the racers. Only under the glowing street light can they see what’s happening. “Majority it’s men who are usually knocking each other down. No worries, (y/n) can easily win tonight.” Johnny seems to smell something from Sehun. He knows Sehun is interested at her. He’s not the type to get worried sick for someone he doesn’t care.

Finally Sehun can let go the breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding. Just like what Johnny said, he saw (y/n) made it first to the finish line and Taeyong and the rest cheers into a group hug. Johnny is also over the moon. Sehun made a mental note he doesn’t like this and he is not coming back. No! This is so dangerous for his heart. He isn’t in the race but he can feel the adrenaline and he hates that.

On the side next to the judges, Taeyong Jaehyun and Yuta hug each other and collected the money from the judges. He took a small number for his team and hands the rest to the champion.

(y/ n) took off her helmet, placed it on one of the bike hand and she counts her money happily. Her breath is still quick and short. Sehun can see it from the distant how adrenalines must still take over her body. She keeps her money inside her jacket and walks to the side to have a discussion with Taeyong. While Jaehyun takes over the motor to examine the damages, Yuta checks on her condition.

“Some scratches here and there… nothing dangerous.” Yuta smiles in relief.

“Jaehyun I think there’s something missing. Someone kicked me but I managed to keep my body on the jock. But please tell me something is missing coz I heard something drop.” (y/n) goes to bend beside Jaehyun who’s busy examining.

Taeyong pushes a bottle of energy drinks to her lips and she diligently finishes half of it.

“Whoah. Indeed someone managed to kick some parts away.. but worry not I’ll get this fixed. Your next race you’ll be the fastest again.” Jaehyun brings her bike to a carrier truck.

She can’t go home with that dirty bike. Besides the bike is modified for races not for daily use or even used in town.

“Okay. Good bye!” she bows and turns to rejoins her friends. They welcome her nicely and Taeyong Jaehyun Yuta returns to Johnny and Sehun.

“How is it Sehun? Surprised?” Jaehyun interrogates when they are on their way back home. They live in the same unit apartment. Sehun lives alone with his brother while the four shares a big house.

“I did not know these things are happening in real life. I thought I’d only see them in movies.” Sehun snickers.

Yuta laughs “I think you’ve talk a word or two with our Ace racer. What do you think of her?”

Sehun tries to keep his cool image but fails, “She doesn’t look like she belongs there. She’s cute.” He admits that.

The four boos him and teases him.

“Our Sehun will finally move on!” Taeyong screams.

“No! It’s not like that! I just met her.. that’s just my first impression. Besides I’m not returning to that hellish place.”

“Said the man who really gets nervous during the race.. asking me constant questions to ensure she is alright.” Johnny mocks Sehun. This stirs the car to laugh and Sehun quiet in his place. Blushing all the way home.

Sehun gets home with butterflies in his tummy. The short encounter was too short of his liking, but definitely planted deep inside his memory. His brother, Luhan, welcomes him home with tons of questions.

“Where are you from?”

“What makes you this weird?”

“Don’t tell me you found someone new?”

“Sehun you’re not answering me?! You’re not drunk right?”

“Hey Sehun! SEHUN! Come to your senses!”

Luhan upon Sehun’s arrival has bombarded him with questions. Hey Luhan knows the heart break Sehun went through and he knows that earlier he left Sehun for his date and when he returns quiet late, Sehun is not home yet. His mind quickly think where can he be. Probably a club? Or maybe the guys’ house. But seeing how Sehun’s shoes are dirty.. Luhan knows he is not drunk or back from playing PS.

“Hyung. I’m not drunk okay. I’m totally in my right mind and I’m just happy for tonight.”

“What do you do?”

“Fine if you insist. I watched a wild motor racing. Happy? Just because Taeyong is working there.”

“Right. Did you win or lose the bet?” Luhan expects his brother to gamble since he’s there.

To which surprisingly Sehun denies “You know I don’t gamble.”

Luhan rolls his eyes “Who knows something gets into you. Anyways since you’re home.. I’ll be sleeping. Nighty night big baby.”

“Please if you’re doing your business keep the moans low. I want to sleep without nightmares Sehun.” Luhan winks to his pants and closes his door.

Sehun grunts. Gosh why is he even having a tent right now between his tight pants. Gosh Luhan is really teasing him max. Why did he even have this boner right now?!

CONTINUE TO PART 2

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jaxsteamblog · 5 years ago

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Aurora

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

And it was over.

Zuko took time to help her move during the week and on Saturday, Sokka closed up the Ice Blossom and drove the big truck to move the pieces she couldn’t break down. In the evening, as she washed away their sore muscles, they all sat at Katara’s kitchen table and shared the various cartons of take out.

They ate by candlelight as the electric company had not switched over her account like she asked.

It was awkward for more than that, as they all knew what the next day was.

Katara’s summer was over, though there was still a week left before her classes began. All of them were about to head up to the North Pole for the Avatar’s debut and, even worse, the Fire Lord was coming along.

They slept over and in the morning, they went together to the airport. Despite the impending three day ordeal, their luggage was light. All of their fancy attire would already be there and waiting for them.

Flying to the North Pole was a lot easier for Katara, mostly due to the fact that they boarded a private plane. Iroh met them at the airport, coordinating with Zuko about when they would be meeting up with Azula and the Fire Lord.

The thought that she would soon be face to face with the man behind her mother’s death was, for the lack of a better word, odd. The degrees of separation between the Fire Lord’s order and Kya’s death passed through so many people, it was difficult for Katara to connect the two. Still, having to meet him made her feel queasy.

Everything was moving so fast, and Katara took her first breath of the day on the plane. It was as if the past few weeks had swept by her in a gust of wind. Her head spinning, Katara gripped her armrests and tried to focus on the small porthole window.

Hopefully the next five days would pass quickly and without incident.

Multiple cars were parked on the tarmac and their plane taxied slowly over to them. A stairway was wheeled over and as the door to the plane opened, the cars similarly opened. Most of them were guards, but Hakoda stepped out of one, smoothing down the sleeves of his parka.

“Hey, there they are!” Hakoda greeted as Sokka and Suki emerged from the plane. “Let me see my soon to be daughter-in-law!”

Katara followed after them and watched as Suki hugged her father. She hesitated before walking over and was distracted by a loud calling. Looking around, Katara finally peered upward, shielding her eyes from the sun still clinging to the horizon.

A Sky Bison banked and landed in a turn, facing the rest of them and stomping some of its tree trunk legs.

“Hi Katara!” Rohan’s voice bellowed from over the Sky Bison’s head. There was a flurry of orange as multiple people jumped down using their airbending.

Still breathing, Katara smiled. It didn’t seem likely that the time would pass slowly now.

It was dark when Zuko found her.

A dinner was being held for just the guests of honor, and drinks were being served. The Avatar was in conversation with Arnook and Tenzin, while the Fire Lord was standing with her father, Iroh, and Azula. It was too much and, with dinner still yet to be called, she had to escape.

It was the end of summer, so the North Pole was heading quickly into the dark season. The sun was only up for a few hours and lingered at the horizons, but evening fell quickly. So it wasn’t surprising that Katara stood in twinkling darkness before suppertime.

“I am not used to it being this dark but not feeling tired.” Zuko said as he walked up to her. Most of the building was made of wood and stone, but the balcony was pure ice. Zuko looked uneasy as he stepped on it, despite the grit the architect had added.

“It’s worse when the sun doesn’t go down at all. My bending is all out of wack then.” Katara replied.

“Sounds like Firebender perfection.”

“Don’t like the moon?”

“I prefer the ocean.”

Katara rolled her eyes and turned, crossing her arms on the railing just as Zuko stood next to her. He, like every other Firebender that came to the Poles, was dressed lightly. It was a mark of weakness if they needed arctic clothing, and while Katara understood that their inner fire kept them warm, it also greatly annoyed her.

It was as if they were saying they were better suited to living in her home than she was.

“So the Avatar seems nice?” Zuko offered. Katara glanced back briefly and nodded.

“She is. She definitely seems interested in being your friend.” She said.

“It surprised me too. I wasn’t prepared for her to get political so quickly.” Zuko replied. “But she wants Azula to teach her firebending.”

“You’re kidding!” Katara scoffed and Zuko smiled.

“It makes sense. If she cozies up to me, it gives me a leg-up on the global stage. But by having Azula be her teacher, she doesn’t risk ticking off my father too much.” He explained.

“About him…”

“What?”

“Does he always look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like he has a rod jammed up his backside but instead of taking it out, he just gets offended that you haven’t impaled yourself?”

A laugh burst from Zuko and he quickly covered his mouth.

“That is definitely one way to put it.” He said.

“I can find other ways.” Katara offered and Zuko chuckled.

“I’d rather you not.” He said.

They stood in silence, looking out over the snowy courtyard. Everywhere she looked was snow and ice. With no humidity, the lampposts and streetlights didn’t glow, but stood like beacons of crisp white brilliance. The snow and ice itself glowed, coloring the light blue.

When it got truly dark, people would begin to carry around lanterns that were as old as their tribe.

“I hate being here.” Katara said suddenly and Zuko faced her.

“As in tonight or just in general?” He asked.

“In general.” She shook her head and tucked some of her hair behind an ear. “It reminds me of horrible things, yet I spend all of my time needing to go to the Oasis.”

“Then let’s go.” Zuko said.

“And be late to dinner?” Katara asked.

“Let’s cause a scandal. I don’t really want to eat with my father.” He replied. Smiling, Katara took his hand.

“We can be quick.” She said and pulled up a massive ice ramp from the snow on the ground.

Katara raced them both around the palace and to the high walls that guarded the Oasis. Out of respect, Zuko insisted they use the door and the guards let them pass. It was going to be hard to deny Katara entry when she harbored a link with one of the spirits being guarded.

Zuko seemed in awe of the place and Katara watched peacefully as he walked around. She went to the pond and sat down, not looking at the fish beside her but neither was she ignoring them.

After marvelling at the plantlife, Zuko walked to her and sat next to her.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“Calm.” Katara said with a smile. She then grinned and leaned toward him.

“Want to see something weird?” She asked. Zuko only nodded and Katara sat back, putting her hand into the pond.

She couldn’t see it, but the look on Zuko’s face told her what was happening.

“Whenever my link to La is active, my hair turns black.” She said.

“But at the beach-” Zuko started, still staring at her hair.

“My hair was wet, you wouldn’t have noticed it.” She said and then turned to look at the fish. As they swam by, Katara put out her hand and let them pass under. Their scales felt like silk.

It was while she looked down that she saw the reflection of the sky.

“Zuko.” She said with a gasp and looked up, pointing as she did.

Green light spilled over the dark sky like trickles of water. The lines themselves also bled upward, illuminating a three dimensional space that made the vast sky a maw of darkness. The lights shimmered and Katara turned, lying on her back to watch them. Zuko joined her on the grass, his hands under his head.

“Now that is cool.” He said.

“Everything is so beautiful here, I wish I was happier.” Katara murmured.

“Are you not happy?” Zuko asked.

“I am, right now.” She said and turned her face. She was looking at Zuko’s scar and felt impelled to reach out. His eye fluttered, but he didn’t move away and Katara lightly touched the burn. At her touch, he closed his eyes and Katara rolled onto her side.

“I think here, of all places, I could heal you.” She whispered.

Zuko smiled.

“No. Right now, I’m happy too.” He said.

Katara took back her hand and leaned over as he opened his eyes. Zuko reached up with one hand, putting on the back of her head as she dipped in to kiss him. As her lips met his, she turned herself, and he sat up, holding her. They curled around each other as Katara ended up with her arms around his neck; his wrapped around her middle.

As they broke apart, Katara felt her arms pull against him and he pushed her up.

“We should probably go to dinner.” He murmured.

Sighing, Katara rested her forehead against his.

“Fine.” She put down an arm and pushed herself up, allowing Zuko to stand.

“May I escort you, your Highness?” He asked, offering his arm.

Katara only stuck out her tongue before linking her arm with his.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

#zutara #fanfiction #jax writes #modern au #zutara month 2020 #the fic that prompts built

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cilldaracailin · 4 years ago

Text

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys!

I know you all hate it when I get to the last part of the story but this is the last part to this story and of Robyn and Taron’s St Patrick’s Day adventure. It has been a whirlwind!

Thank you so much for all the love, reads, comments and folllowers! You are all so wonderful!

Suze xx

“Never borrow trouble, the payback's a bitch”

“She did what and you did what back?” Tina questioned.

“She kissed me.”

“And you kissed her back?”

“Well yes mam, of course I did. She kissed me.”

“Taron!”

“What?” He hoped his one-word argument was enough to save himself from a lecture from his mother.

“Don’t what me. You kissed her back. Do you remember what I said about waiting?”

“Yes.”

“Taron…” Warned Tina.

“What you said was she would figure it out eventually that she loved me loved me.”

“Doesn’t mean you kiss her back.”

“Well what was I going to do mam? Just let her stand there and kiss me and not do anything? I didn’t want her to think I was disgusted by what she was doing because I wasn’t. I definitely wasn’t.”

Tian sighed as she heard his voice soften. “Taron…”

“It was perfect mam. Just… perfect.”

“Ok love, save the details for your friends. I don’t need to know but I do want to know how you are.”

“How I am?”

“Straight from work to a flight and onto a busy day.”

Taron sighed a little. “I am fine mam.” He heard some silence. “I slept, I have eaten and I have had a wonderful day. I won the duck race, had bacon and cabbage and the céilí is a lot of fun and Robyn’s friends are fantastic and mam I already have Robyn on my case over going back to work and I know you are only thinking about me and you know I love you but you know this is what I do and what I have to do and I cannot have two women fretting over me.”

“I know you love her, but have I told you yet that I love her?”

“Not during this phone call.”

“I love her.”

“Me too mam, me too.”

After a quick five-minute chat with his sisters, Taron ended the call and slipping his phone into his trouser pocket, made his way back towards the door of the GAA club house. His heart had finally slowed down back to its normal rhythm and he prayed the cool air had lifted the rosy tint from his cheeks too. The night air could do nothing for his butterflies and Taron was becoming accustomed to the resident fuzzy feelings that now permanently lived in him and to be honest, he liked having them around and if he was being even more honest with himself, that kiss with Robyn was exactly what he had thought his first kiss with her would have been and was suddenly so thankful for girl talk and the sneaky deals and ways of women, because he most definitely benefited from it. The only negative thing he could take from the kiss, was the fact that he was wanted another and another and as many more as he could get but knew there wasn’t a hope in hell of that happening, so Taron was going to take the one kiss he got and hold it in his heart and memories.

He shook his head as he showed his shamrock stamp on the inside of his wrist to the man at the table so he could get back into the gym and once inside was met with the heat of the room and the Irish music, the next dance in full swing on the dance floor. He glanced to his left and saw Robyn and her friends at the table in the corner and he shuffled his way through and around tables to get back to them.

As he walked his pulled his shirt off and threw it over his chair before he sat down next to Robyn, grinning her way as from the corner of his eye he saw Claire and Nick sitting right beside each other, almost practically on top of each other, holding hands.

“All ok with your mam?” She asked him as she handed him a new beer, ice cold from the bar.

Yep.” He took a drink, enjoying the coolness from the beer. “Just a chat.”

“And the girls?”

“Wishing they were here of course.”

“Of course.” She repeated. She saw Taron hide a yawn behind his beer and chose to ignore it. “So, you ready to give the dancing another go?” She asked him instead. “The céilí is on for another hour before you get your next Irish portion of the evening, where there is a DJ who plays cheesy Irish rebel songs for a few hours and then the obligatory Irish sing song begins as the night winds down and those stragglers find a way to stay even longer.”

Taron grinned. “I am ready for it all!”

After taking part and learning every other céilí dance, Taron was jumping with everyone else on the dance floor as Whiskey in the Jar played over the speakers and he was buzzing just from the energy and excitement he was feeling. He hadn’t drunk much at all and had passed that point of over tiredness where now he felt fully awake and was taking in the atmosphere and party around him. The music was exactly what he hoped it would be and the Irish classics kept on coming and when Robyn sat down for a break, he kept going, Shane and Darragh staying with him, taking every opportunity they had to dance with him.

“He is like an energiser bunny.” Laughed Claire as she watched the boys on the dance floor. Nick had gone to bar the get some more drinks for everyone and it left the two to have another chat.

“He has past the point of exhaustion and is just wired now.”

“He is going to crash hard.”

“Yes, he is.” Robyn caught his eyes on the dance floor and he gave her a wonderful smile, singing the words he knew even louder for her benefit before he turned away from her and mingled back into the crowd. “So hard and he is straight back into work on Thursday, working right through until he is back for RENT and then off on a promotional tour around the world for Kingsman.”

“And you sound like his mother worrying about him.”

“I do worry about him.

“Because you love him.”

“Because I love him.” She repeated.

Claire had reached for her glass but stopped. “Did you just admit to me that you love him?”

Robyn nodded.

“Robyn! The kiss.”

“That bloody kiss.” Robyn sat back in her chair and sighed. “It was perfect.”

Claire grinned. “Shane is entirely jealous. His first kiss with Darragh was no where was beautiful as that one.” Robyn smiled shyly. “Details and now.”

“That boy sure can kiss.” Robyn answered simply, a slight sing song tone to her voice, her hands running through her hair. She tucked the strands behind her ears but her fingers moved to her lips, her eyes closing for a brief second as she could still feel the kiss from Taron. “It was soft but had the perfect tension and pressure and wasn’t in any way awkward as first kisses can be and he kept changing his head position and it was tingly and sweet and caring and I could feel his heart racing and God Claire, I love him. I love his laugh and his beautiful eyes and his family and his heart and his chuckles and when his voice hits those lower tones and when he just sits in the corner of my couch and just sits and does nothing and eats everything I bake for him and how he does this adorable little crinkly nose thing when he doesn’t like something and the little sighs he makes when I scratch his head.”

“You realise how bad you have it right?”

Robyn nodded again. “I know.”

“What are you going to do?”

Robyn shook her head. “He means everything to me and I still stand by my mantra of I would rather have him as a friend then not at all.”

“Robyn…”

“We have been through too much together and I got a taste of what it would be like to lose him in New York and I can’t lose him.”

“Robyn that man is practically glued to you. You won’t lose him but he is so perfect for you.”

“The logistics of it all is just…”

“And I am going to stop you there. Please don’t Robyn.” Claire reached over and took her hands. “He is just what you need and what you deserve and he adores you. You two need to talk over all of this.”

“He is so busy.”

“But yet he came over for two nights for you.”

Robyn glanced to the dancefloor, just about seeing Taron in the crowd of people and she couldn’t remember seeing him so relaxed and happy in a crowd, except for when he was in Aber with his friends and she smiled.

“Any more kisses in your future?”

Robyn felt a slight frown fill her face. “What about your kisses with Nick?” She countered to distract her friend from the topic of her kiss with Taron.

Claire grinned wickedly. “I don’t know why I waited so long.”

“Me either.” Laughed Robyn.

“We are going to dinner at the weekend.”

“You move fast.”

“And you move way too slow.”

“And you are going to be quiet now.” Robyn saw Taron walking back to their table with Shane and Darragh, Nick arriving back to the table with a tray of drinks at the same time. Emma and Tommy had left after the céilí, needing to get home to let the babysitter go home too, so the group of eight had dwindled to a group of six.

“I promise.”

“And just so you know I haven’t forgotten about the forfeit. It is just going to wait until I have the time to think about it.”

The four men took their seats at the table, all taking a long drink from their glasses, Taron moving back in his chair, swinging an arm around the back of Robyn’s chair.

“You ok?” He asked her as the others engaged in conversation around them.

“Yep. You?”

“I am great.”

“You are going to crash and burn in about an hour.”

“Yep.” Agreed Taron. When he was up and dancing, he could feel the music flowing through his blood, the energy keeping him going but once he sat, his whole body flooded with a tiredness that settled deep in his bones and he knew himself, once he got back to Robyn’s he would sit on her wonderfully comfortable couch and just hit a brick wall. “But I have enjoyed every minute so far and I can sleep for a while tomorrow.”

Robyn inched a little closer to him. “Did you bring your Robyn cuddle voucher?” She asked and saw him shake his head, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “Did I mention that getting a cuddle with an Irish person at the end of St Patrick’s Day is also a compulsory part of the day?”

That grin she adored, filled his face and his eyes were an emerald green colour, the glow of the lights in the hall helping their natural green to stand out more. “Have I told you that I love St Patrick’s Day?” He chuckled.

“Been one of my favourites too.”

At the end of the DJ’s set, the Irish national Anthem played and Taron was full of giggles as he listened to the people around him singing along, even more so when Robyn elbowed him to get him to quit laughing.

“Thought you said a lot of Irish people can’t speak Irish.” He said to her as they sat back in their chairs, a lovely breeze blowing their way from the open door near their tables. Someone had the great idea to throw open the fire exit doors to help circulate some fresh air into the gym and it was very welcomed as the heat inside was stuffy and dry.

“They can’t but everyone knows their national anthem.” Robyn took a drink from her glass of water handing it to Taron when she was done, the Welshman taking a long drink. He had switched to water just after the céilí finished, knowing he had to work tomorrow not wanting to risk a headache sitting through another tough script read through. “Actually, they know the beginning and last few words. The rest is a bit of a blur to most.”

“Right Robyn, I demand a song!” Although Robyn and Taron had only had a couple of drinks, Shane had more than a few and was happily quite tipsy and he leaned over the table towards them. “And then he has to sing too.”

“He has a name.”

“Yeah he does. We call him…”

“And I think you should go first Shane.” Robyn interrupted him quickly only imagining what name Shane would come out with for Taron, guessing it was worse than ‘sex God’. “You always like to lead with the first song.”

“Only because we normally get kicked out of the gym after the fifth or sixth one.” Piped up Darragh. “And he has to get his sing song in.”

“And because these poor people want to go home.” Answered Robyn. It was near one thirty in the morning and there were another two tables with people still sitting talking but the staff were lingering around, waiting for everyone to go so they could finish clearing the tables. “We won’t be staying too long.” She looked to Taron who nodded so glad Robyn wasn’t planning on staying much longer. He had definitely the best night but was ready to head back to hers to cool down with a shower and get some sleep but didn’t want to be rude and say it out right but Robyn always knew what he needed and was always thinking about him.

“You are not allowed to move until you sing us one song and if you are going to go, you need to sing one now!”

“Shane…”

“It is our St Patrick’s Day traditions and no offense to Taron, he is awesome and all but you were ours first.”

Robyn frowned while Taron laughed a little. “I am not trying to take her away from you.”

“You can’t have her.” Replied Shane but he re-thought his words. “No, wait. You can have her but we have our…”

“Traditions.” Finished Taron a little tiredly. “And I am not here to break them. I am here to join in with them.”

“So, you can give us a tune too?” Asked Shane hopefully.

“Shane what are you going to sing?” Asked Claire, seeing the look of concern on Robyn’s face as she looked to Taron. Although Robyn’s guest had been full of energy and definitely had a great time, now as he sat, Claire could see the exhaustion in his face and his body as he leant against Robyn a little as they sat close together on their chair, she knew Robyn was already wary of how tired Taron was and knew by her words and face that she was ready to call it a night, wanting to get Taron home at a decent hour so he could get some rest before he went back to work. “You start us off Shane, then Robyn can have her turn and then I think we will call it a night too.”

With no disagreements, Shane launched into a version of The Wild Rover with a much more over pronounced Irish accent then he actually had and as the group around him and those at the other tables joined in for the chorus, Shane ended the song to a round of applause.

“Now your turn.” Shane leaned across the table again to Robyn, nearly tipping a glass over but Nick caught it before it fell. “And you know what I want to hear.”

Sitting up a little, Robyn quickly started to sing a song she knew Taron would never have heard of by an Irish artist called Frances Black. Legal Illegal was a song poking fun at Ireland in the nineties and it was comedic song that was sung accapella, making a mockery of the government and rules and regulations the Irish people had to live by. It was a good song for the end of a St Patrick’s Day and she grinned once finished as everyone clapped, Taron leading the applause.

“Now Taron!” Shouted Shane and Robyn was so glad the gym was mostly empty because keeping his privacy in Kilcreen was so important to her.

“And how about no.” She said as she stood up. “We agreed one song by me and that was it.”

“Robyn!” Whined Shane.

“Sorry Shane.” She picked up her jacket to put it on and was so glad to see Taron on his feet too, pulling on his shirt and jacket too, wrapping his flag around his shoulders. “Been a long day.”

“Spoil sport.” He answered.

“I think it is time for us to go too.” Smiled Darragh. “Time for bed.”

Claire and Nick had also stood up and pulled on their coats. “I am going to walk Claire home.” Said Nick with a shy little smile on his face.

Robyn grinned his way. “I will see you in rehearsal next week.”

Nick moved to say goodnight to Taron while Robyn stepped to Claire. “I want details.” She said to her friend mid-hug.

“Ditto.”

Once a few more goodbyes had been said and hugs returned, Taron and Robyn finally walked out the door of the GAA and made their way through the main gate rather than taking the risk to go through the hedge in the dark and took a left.

“It’s nice to be outside. It got so hot in there.”

“Yeah it did.”

“Thanks for asking me over Robyn. It has just been the best day and exactly what I needed to clear my head.”

Robyn linked her arm with his as they walked down the dark cull de sac that led to her house. “You are so welcome. I am glad you came. I had a lot of fun.”

“I am a céilí master now.”

Robyn chuckled. “Sure Taron. You can play Michael Flatley in your next chosen biopic.”

Taron grinned. “In the bag chicken. I liked the song you sang.”

“Thanks Taron.”

“Really a tradition?” He asked her.

“Same songs ever year.”

Taron chuckled. “Shane is a character. Thanks for the save back there.”

“You are very welcome.” She grinned.

“He is very protective of you though I am glad he is willing to share you with me.”

“I wish I had a better explanation then that’s just Shane but it’s all I have.”

“I really like your friends Robyn.”

“They are all right.” She replied back. “But yeah a good bunch.”

Taron wrapped his arm around her shoulders, covering her and him in the flag for the last few meters before they reached her front door. Once inside Robyn’s home, Taron stripped himself down to his t-shirt again, still feeling a little warm from the evening. He walked into the bedroom and dropped his coat, shirt and flag on the bed and stretched, rolling his neck little. The tiredness was rapidly setting in but he was desperate for a shower, feeling a little sticky after the dancing the whole night.

“Hey Robyn, I am just going to grab a shower.”

“Sure Taron. You want me to make you something to drink?”

“Nah I am good thanks. I will be quick.”

“Take your time. No rush.”

Taron was pulling his green t-shirt off as answered her and he walked through the closet and closed the bathroom door behind him, grabbing some clean towels from the second closet before he closed that door too. He set the shower to a colder temperature and once he stepped in, just stood with his face under the stream. He reached for Robyn’s shampoo, ready to wash the green from his hair and as he lathered up some suds and washed them out, he was happy to see the water turn green under his feet. Robyn was a creature of habit and the lime and tea tree shower gel was a staple in her shower and it helped to wake him up a little bit. It was a real quick five-minute shower and he wrapped a towel around his waist, feeling a little chill in her bathroom as the water droplets dripped down his back. He grabbed the second towel and rubbed his hair getting most if the wetness out. He had had his hair cut since he last saw Robyn but it was only a trim, keeping his hair a little longer than he normally would because he knew Robyn liked it that way and he would be seeing her again before he had to completely change his look for the new movie but he definitely was hoping that maybe he might get a little head scratch before he had to go home the next day. Using his hand, he wiped the condensation from the mirror and stalled mid stroke as he looked at his reflection and stared at himself in the mirror.

“What the…”

He dropped the hand towel into the sink and reached his arms up so he could touch his hair. Instead of his normal dark chestnut brown colour, where he had put the green hair dye on his hair that morning was still green. He ran his two hands through his wet hair and his eyes opened wide.

“Oh no.” He said quietly. “No, no, no, no!” His words got louder as he saw that the green hair dye was not coming out and realisation was quickly hitting him. “Oh no! No! Robyn!”

The door to the laundry room was closest to him so he pulled it open and walked past the washing machine and out into the small hallway at the front door and saw Robyn sitting on the island engrossed in her phone.

“Robyn! What have you done!”

The Irish woman had been texting Claire to tell her they had made it home safely and that she should definitely invite Nick in for some coffee when Taron burst out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel through the laundry room, his body still wet from his shower. Robyn had to double take her eyes going straight to his bare chest before she hopped down from the island, Taron coming to stand right in front of her.

“Robyn insert your middle name here Quinn, what have you done!” He repeated.

“Rose.”

“What?” Asked Taron.

“Rose, my middle name is Rose.”

“Robyn!” Taron’s face was a mixture of confusion and irritation. “Not the time and place for that.”

“But you said insert your middle name…”

Taron stepped forward and placed two wet hands on her face. “What have you done to my hair!”

“Your hair?” She asked, her eyes moving up to look at his hair.

“It’s green!”

“Well I can see that Taron. Why is your hair green?”

“Robyn!” Taron’s voice was the deepest she had ever heard it and she couldn’t even explain how it made her head spin but she could also hear the desperation in his tone too. “My hair is green!”

She lifted her hands and ran them through his wet hair, giving his scalp a little scratch at which Taron closed his eyes at but quickly remembered why he standing in a towel in front of her and stopped her hands. “Robyn, what did you do!”

“I didn’t do anything Taron. You put the green in your hair, not me.”

“You told me it was on your make-up table and that was the one I used. Is your hair going to stay green?”

Robyn squinted a little at him. “No because I used the hair chalk.” Her words faltered at the end of her sentence. “Taron you did use the hair chalk, right?”

“I used whatever was in the bottle.” He watched as Robyn’s eyes opened wide. “What! What did I do?”

“You didn’t use the bottle, did you?”

“Yes Robyn. The bottle of green hair dye on the make-up table.”

“Oh no Taron.”

She walked around him and into her bedroom and over to the make-up table, Taron right on her heels. She picked up the small white circular hair chalk. “This is what I used. It’s like what I brought to give your sisters Elsa hair.”

“That is not what I used.” Taron picked up the bottle of hair dye. “I used this.” He took the hair chalk from her. “This was not on the table when I sat down here earlier.”

“Taron of course it was. I left it here when I was finished while you were sleeping.”

“What is hell is this?” Taron almost shoved the bottle in her face.

“Taron that is semi-permanent hair dye.” She told him. “I bought that thinking it was a wash out one but only when I read the bottle, I realised it wasn’t. Taron you dyed your hair green.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I am afraid you did Taron. You have dyed your hair green and because it has been in your hair all day, it has really developed and gone nice and dark.” Robyn reached up and ran her hands through his hair again. “Well this is a St Patrick’s Day you won’t forget in a hurry.”

Taron took the few steps backwards to sit on the bed. “Robyn, I have another read-through tomorrow. I can’t have green hair.”

“I hate to break it to you rocketman but you have green hair and it will be with you tomorrow at your read through and for a good few days after that until it washes out and even after that, you will still have a slightly green hue.”

Taron placed his head in his hands, his fingers running through the wet strands. He took a deep calming breath and sighed heavily. “Fuck.” He muttered. “Fuckity fuck fuck.” He sighed once more and taking his hands from his head sat up straight and had to do a double take as he looked to Robyn who had both her hands over her mouth and her eyes were crinkled at the sides and he knew what that look was. It was when Robyn was laughing and not just a little laugh, but side hurting ready to cry with tears laughing and suddenly he was on his feet and standing beside her. “Robyn…” He warned. “Robyn what did you do.”

She took her hands away. “I did nothing.” She squeaked.

“Robyn Rose Quinn what have you done!” Taron reached for her and she turned her back to him as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and hugged her back against his chest, his wet skin warm against the gap of her crop top. “I am not going to let you go until you…” Taron loosened his gip a little as she moved her hands to tickle his bare sides. “Why you little!” He moved his hands to he could tickle her back and even though he tried not too, he laughed a little as she struggled against him. Feeling his towel slip a little, her had to let her go and she moved right away from him as he tightened the towel, making sure it was tucked in really well. “Spill Robyn.”

“Payback is a bitch Mr Egerton.” She simply said, winking at him, jumping up onto the bed and hopping off near the closet door as Taron went to swipe for her and she moved completely out of his way before he could reach for her.

Taron watched as she ran across the duvet and jumped off the other side. He didn’t dare follow her, already having a little towel slip, he wouldn’t risk a bigger mishap so now they both stood on opposite sides of the bed.

“I told you I would get you back.”

“So, you did do this to me!” He groaned running his hands through his hair again.

“Not really not. You did it to yourself. You just happened to pick up the wrong hair dye.”

“Robyn I can’t believe you did this.” He watched as she started to laugh again, her whole body shaking with her giggles, even seeing tears form in the corner of her eyes. “Jesus Christ you sneaky Irish woman.”

His words just made Robyn laugh harder and she had to put her two hands on the bedside locker to stop herself from falling over she was laughing so hard. The day Taron had snuck glitter into her body wash, she had warned him she would get him back and saw the perfect opportunity with the hair dye. She knew Taron would have been up for anything today, wanting to get the most out of his trip to Ireland for St Patrick’s Day. Initially she was going to suggest the hair chalk but when she was out shopping, she saw the green semi-permanent hair dye made by the same brand that she used when she dyed her hair pink and a little sly smile filled her face and plan her mind. Her payback for Taron.

“Robyn stop laughing.”

“Oh, I can’t! It is just too funny Taron. Your hair is green! Smile!” Robyn pulled her phone from her pocket in her skirt and quickly snapped a picture of him, laughing some more. “Oh, one for the wall.”

“Robyn…” He warned but as he took her bright eyes and the wonderful sound of her laughter, he groaned. “Well played Robyn.”

“Why thank you Taron.” She took a little bow.

“Please tell me it does actually wash out at some stage.” He watched as she walked around the bed to him, a wide smile still on her face.

“Most of it will.” She reached up and brushed her hands through his hair. “Good thing you stuck with just the tips and didn’t try to dye your whole head, or your growing beard.” She heard the intake of breath he made. “Oh, dear God that thought crossed your mind, didn’t it?” Robyn took to laugh again, her hands going to her eyes, to wipe unfallen tears away. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall at your read through tomorrow.”

“You do realise I am going to have to get my hair cut now, right? This hair that you love so much.”

“But it was so worth it and we are completely even now.”

“Robyn….” Taron rolled his eyes as he realised he had been well and truly tricked. “I guess I could wear a hat.”

She chuckled again and ran her hands through his hair, this time giving his scalp another scratch. “Oh God, it is brilliant.”

“May I remind you that the glitter washed off the same day.” His eyes closed automatically as she deeply grazed his head from the nape of his neck the whole way to the top of his head.

“After I scrubbed every inch of my body red raw.”

“And may I also remind you that I rubbed your body lotion in after too.” He opened his eyes to look at her.

“And I have gotten my payback.” She took her hands from his wet hair and tapped the tip of his nose. “No more pranks. We are done. Ok?”

Taron thought for a moment but quickly realising he had been completely out-pranked, he nodded and then shook his head at her grin. “Let’s take a proper picture then.”

“And then another when your hair is dry.”

“And I am not in a towel.”

Robyn looked down to his waist, little nervous sparks running through her as she gazed over his stomach and to the top of the towel that sat neatly at his hips. “Sure. Let’s do that.”

When Taron was eventually dressed in a pair of sweats and a dark green t-shirt and Robyn had changed into more comfortable clothes too, they moved to lay on Robyn’s bed and when the topic of Taron’s new hair colour, once more pictures were taken, was finally talked to death, they were watching as Taron requested, the most typically Irish movie Robyn could find. She came through with Darby O Gill and The Little People and while Robyn cringed at the terrible Irish accent of Sean Connery, Taron repeated every word in an accent just as bad, Robyn just laughing at him.

“I think you have spent the majority of your day laughing at me.” He said to her as they lay propped up on the pillows shoulder to shoulder.

“You have made me laugh so much today Taron and I have seen you laughing too. It nice to see you laughing too.”

“It felt good Robyn.”

“Please keep laughing over the next two months.”

He heard the slight turn in her voice and knew her concerns about his travelling for his promotion was at the back of her mind. “I make it sound like I hate the promotion. I don’t. I really enjoy it. I am so proud of Kingsman and I can only hope it gets such a great reception as the others and I want to go and promote it and talk about it. It’s the travelling and jet lag that I don’t enjoy as much.”

“You already know your schedule though.”

“Yep.”

“And…”

He sighed a little. “It’s gonna be tough and a lot of jet lag. A lot to cram in within a three-week period and there is even going to be some travelling before I come back to see you in two weeks.”

“Seriously?”

“More interviews were added for Europe for next week, so Matthew and I are travelling to go and do them.”

“Is there a lot?”

“Quite a few and a day in New York too.”

“I think I liked it better when I could keep you in my house and know where you were at all times and make sure you were sleeping and eating.”

“Me too.” He admitted. “But I do enjoy it Robyn. I really do”

Although she knew he tried to hide it, Robyn heard the slightly bothered sigh he made. “You worried about them bringing me and you up and what happened in Florida?”

“Always.” He answered straight away. “But thankfully it’s a topic that’s easy for me to talk about now and because we have been seen out together, it takes the heat away a little.”

“Doesn’t open up more questions?”

“Probably but Lyndsey will be there.”

“Good.”

“More protection for me, right?”

“Absolutely.”

Taron smiled a little. “I don’t think I am ever going to get used to how protective you can be of me.”

“I don’t mean to be but you know there was a time I literally had your life in my hands and I still don’t know why I feel somewhat responsible for you even though you are a big boy and have done so many of these tour things and can look after yourself but…”

“It is just the way you are Robyn and I wouldn’t change it for anything. You do it for the people in your life you love and care for and I don’t have a lot of those people in my life, those who I can truly trust and rely on so believe me, I very much appreciate it.” He moved a little so he could lay his head right beside her right shoulder. “I know I can always turn to you Robyn, no matter what. Talk to you about anything, kiss you outside lifts and GAA clubhouses.” He laughed as she gently swotted at his stomach. “On the neck and lips.” He added with a smile. “But please know that you can rely and trust me too ok?” He reached over and took her left hand in his left hand, making lazy circles over the back of her hand with the fingers of his right hand. “I might be busy and you may not be able to talk to be as often but leave me a message and I will text or call you back as soon as I can and I am always here for you, for a rant or a chat or just to say hello and I will be back to see you in two weeks. I will be there front and centre for RENT.”

Robyn knew Taron was thinking about Keith as he spoke and she could hear the promise and assurance he spoke with. “I know Taron and thank you. I know I can without a doubt trust you.” He lifted her hand and placed the tiniest and softest of kisses on her skin, his lips lingering longer than they should have but it was a perfectly sweet gesture, furthering his vow to her.

“I am looking forward to seeing you again in two weeks and on the stage.” Snuggling a little more into her, he felt Robyn move with him so they were now laying down on the bed.

“I think you will enjoy it.” She linked the fingers of her right hand with his left hand. “I am excited for it.”

“Nervous?”

“Always.”

“You will be amazing.”

“You haven’t even seen the show yet.”

“I just know.”

Robyn lifted her left hand and ran it through his now dry and still green hair. “You are a tosspot.”

“But I am your tosspot.” He said into her shoulder.

“You got that right.” She agreed. “Now time for an Irish cuddle. Last thing to get in to fully fulfil the requirements for St Patrick’s Day.”

Taron didn’t need any further encouragement and with a closer snuggle he was soon in his favourite cuddling position, his eyes closed as her hand went straight into his hair once he was settled. “Thanks for today Robyn. It was so much more than I could have asked for.”

“Even the green hair?”

“Even the bloody green hair.” He laughed.

“And the kiss?” She asked.

“And the kiss.” He mumbled. “Everything was perfect. Thank you, chicken.”

“Any time Rocketman.” Robyn continued to play with his hair a little.

“Robyn?”

“Hmmm…” She hummed.

“Would you mind if we turned on the air-con for a little while?” Taron lifted his head from her shoulder so he could look at her. “I think I gave too much to the céilí and am still feeling ridiculously warm and I want my cuddle from an Irish woman too but don’t want to overheat as I tend to do.”

“Yeah of course. I don’t mind.” Taron moved his body from her so Robyn could stretch over to the bedside locker and reach for the white controller for the air-con and switched it on, choosing the middle setting so a nice cool breeze filled the room. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

“That is what it is there for.” Robyn settled herself against the pillows again and opened her right arm, Taron crawling back into her cuddle. “You ok?”

“Yeah, just tired. Quickly hitting that wall now.”

“Well you can sleep now.”

“And I fully intend too.”

Nestling into her, Taron moved his head a little lower than he normally would, his face cuddled into her chest and he sighed. Comfy, cosy, warm and home. It was what Robyn was and as he felt her fingers on his upper arm, rubbing in circles into his skin and he completely relaxed into her touch. He was so glad it was only going to be two weeks before he got to see her again because every time he got to see her, he found it just a little bit harder to let go and say goodbye.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #love #Friendship #Cuddles #St Patrick's Day #Payback #Jokes #Laughter #Having fun #Green #Irish #Never mess with an Irish woman #Robyn and Taron

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Different People (Different Arguments), 1/14 (Branjie/Jankie) - Ortega

a/n: once upon a time there was an author named Ortega who wrote war and fucking peace of a the thick of it au called Just the Game We’re In. she finished it and was proud of it and everything was fine. then suddenly, it turned out one of the main characters was…well, we’ll park that. so Ortega then decided to rewrite it with different girls, a few different details, and a different title. and it’s called Different People (Different Arguments)! and chapter one is here now for u all to enjoy (i hope).

(ps. no i’ve not forgotten about strictly au)

fic summary: Brooke Lynn is a political advisor for a government department where she has to contend with an incompetent Minister, maintaining her stone-cold bitch image, working alongside a press team of slackers, and the Prime Minister’s ever-so-slightly terrifying enforcer breathing down her neck 24/7. So when a familiar face from her past arrives as her new boss, she’s not exactly thrilled to add another problem to her ever-growing pile.

And then she admits she’s got a crush on her coworker.

In this chapter: A standard working day is turned on its head when Brooke has to play a role in engineering Cabinet Minister Darienne Lake’s resignation.

***

High heels. The definitive sound of Brooke’s job. Day in, day out the click-clack, click-clack sound would echo through the offices, closely followed by the constantly ringing phones and the tap-tap-tap of keyboards. Often there was also shouting, the volume of which was never helped by the design of the building which allowed every whisper to be amplified by around a million decibels and broadcast into the lobby.

Brooke hated the new building. She’d hated the idea of moving into it, insisting it would reflect badly on their party and cost them in the polls.

“What kind of message is it going to send out?” she’d rolled her eyes, tearing her hands through her hair. “If we’re trying to tell the public we’re still in touch with them and understand their fears of another recession it doesn’t exactly help moving into what looks like Aquaman’s secret fucking lair.”

She had been ignored, of course, as the decision had already been made. Brooke often wondered what the point of being a political advisor was if nobody ever actually listened to your advice, especially since the person you were supposed to be giving advice to seemed to be blundering about the world of politics like a headless chicken. Darienne Lake had been head of the Department for Social Affairs and Citizenship (Dosac for short) for quite some time now. Too long, Brooke thought. It was harrowing working for a woman who was clearly in the wrong profession, watching her get slammed by the media almost daily as a result of the latest crackpot policy she’d dreamed up. Brooke could’ve left the department a long time ago, should’ve left a long time ago. But she didn’t.

Politics was all about climbing the ladder and making connections. It was a game of chess, and over the years Brooke had seen many people make the wrong move both in and out of the public eye and subsequently watched them get disposed of. She’d seen people cross to the other side, watched both her own party and the opposition divide and conquer. It was all extremely black and white. The party line was a tightrope you had to walk. If you stepped out of line, you fell off the tightrope. If you weren’t up to date on what the line was, the tightrope got cut.

Brooke could appreciate it wouldn’t sound hugely appealing to someone who didn’t live, breathe, eat, sleep and shit politics. However, this was her world. It had been her world since she’d started watching the news when she was six years old and heard her family talk about the politicians on the screen, and her need to be within the political realm only intensified when she left school and went to uni to study politics and economics, her drive and determination ensuring she graduated with a first class degree. Something that never got old to Brooke were people’s reactions when they discovered she wasn’t some dyed blonde lobotomy job who’d slept her way up the ladder. She wanted to keep giving people that shock day after day, and if that meant staying and advising an under-qualified, over-privileged cabinet Minister, then she could grit her teeth and bear it.

The echoey click-clack of Brooke’s heels provided a soundtrack as she briskly made her way across the black tiles of the department building’s lobby and pressed one red acrylic nail to the button of the lift, the doors sliding open almost instantly. As she stepped inside, quickly checking her reflection in the mirror, there was the frenzied sound of heels on tiles and a panicked yelling.

“Hold the lift!”

Smiling to herself, Brooke held the doors open as a small, pint-sized blonde ball of energy hurtled through them. Catching her breath and smoothing down her white shift dress, she shot her friend a quick smile.

“Morning, girl!”

“Hey, Jan. Great timing,” Brooke smirked as her friend fixed her windswept hair in the mirror.

If you’d ever asked Brooke if she could’ve seen herself becoming best friends with a previous member of the opposition she would have laughed in your face, but Jan was an exception. She had crossed the floor three months ago, finding a job as one of Darienne’s junior policy advisors after she became disillusioned with the ruthless ideals of the opposition. From what Brooke had heard, the offices of Nicky Doll’s party had been a little cliquey and Jan had wanted to spread her wings. Understandably, Brooke had been suspicious of her at first but Jan had been persistently kind and sweet to her to the point where Brooke basically blinked and they were friends as well as colleagues.

“What’s on the Minister’s agenda today then?” Brooke laughed humourlessly, leaning against the lift’s cool metal wall. “Are we demanding the extension of all buses by 30 centimetres? Bringing back the ha’penny? Outlawing kids?”

Jan threw her head back and laughed. “No, although all very possible Darienne ideas. We’ve to sort the public transport data before 5pm. That’s the only real pressing thing we have to do today.”

Brooke felt uneasy. The prospect of 24 hours that didn’t seem like being strapped to a bullet train speeding through fire seemed too good to be true. Something was always going wrong at Dosac and the fact that the only important thing they had to do with their day was to type some figures into an excel spreadsheet was suspicious.

“How was your weekend anyway?” Jan asked, smiling kindly.

Brooke thought back to the previous two days which were spent holed up in her studio flat eating instant noodles and working her way through expenses forms which the Minister should have been doing herself.

“Oh, you know…just a quiet one,” she gave Jan a small smile, which she returned.

The elevator doors opened and Brooke and Jan made their way to their desks. They were stopped in their tracks by a tiny, olive-skinned woman with flowing dark locks of hair babbling away at them at about a mile a minute. Smirking, Brooke shared an affectionate glance with Jan.

“And good morning to you too, human megaphone,” Brooke smiled, lazily throwing her jacket over her desk as the girl rolled her eyes.

“Brooke Lynn! This is serious shit. It would help if you made it into fuckin’ work on time,” she snapped back, pacing back and forth in her heels with worry.

“Relax, Vanessa. We were only a minute off, Darienne’s not going to be in for another fifteen,” Jan smiled lazily, kicking her heels off as she lounged in the wheely chair behind her desk. “Anyway, what’s the panic? It’s a chill day.”

There was one second of almost-silence as the clicks of computer mouses and the whirr of monitors were the only sounds in the room. Then, Vanessa’s eyes widened in horror. Brooke’s stomach dropped as she met Jan’s eyes- she’d known the prospect of a quiet day had been a veritable pipe dream.

“A chill…shit, you guys didn’t get the briefing that Nina sent out? Oh Christ, what am I doin’ even asking that.”

“Are my ears burning?” came a sleepy voice from down the hall. A figure emerged bundled up in countless scarves and woollen cardigans, her blonde frizzy curls only just visible through the layers of clothing. Her manicured fingernails were curled around a Starbucks cup, which she was clinging to for dear life.

“Morning, Nina! Great timing!” Vanessa greeted her sarcastically.

“Ignore her, girl. She hasn’t had her morning shot of Sambuca yet,” Jan drawled, smiling at the human game of pass the parcel who was currently detangling herself from her mummification of knitted clothing. Nina was Dosac’s press secretary who was kind and easy-going but also did the bare minimum, as her determination started and ended at getting home to her wife Monét and the latest episode of EastEnders every day. The girls all both loved her and were vexed by her in equal measures as it was often near to impossible to get any information from her or through her. But Brooke had to admit she did make a good cup of tea.

“Nina. Is there a reason why these bitches haven’t been briefed on Darienne’s interview with Raja Gemini today?” asked Vanessa.

Brooke threw her head back and groaned. Oh, fuck. This was bad news. Raja was one of the fiercest bitches in the media, a BBC journalist who was almost impossible to influence with spin. Fixing Nina with a stony glare, she was irritated even more when she simply shrugged.

“Vanessa, that email was sent to me at four minutes past five yesterday evening and you know fine well that the moment it hits five o’clock my out of office is on and my work phone is off,” Nina raised her eyebrows, curling her Bluetooth headset round her ear as she logged into her computer.

“Christ. So the Minister has a Gemini interview and we’ve got no idea what it’s meant to be covering,” Brooke massaged her temples slowly.

“Well, I’ll tell you what it’s about. She’s runnin’ with the mobile phone policy,” Vanessa sighed, nodding fiercely as both Brooke and Jan cried out in disbelief.

“Absolutely not. I thought we’d convinced her that it was a non-starter?!” Jan exclaimed, her tone nothing short of outraged.

“Apparently she’s feelin’ the pressure of the opposition as a result of Nicky pushing to cut down on Co2 emissions, so she wants to bring out a policy that goes hand in hand with that so the government can look good.”

“That doesn’t even make any fucking sense! God, Nicky could sneeze and she’d be ‘feeling the pressure’. Sometimes it’s like this department’s being run by a startled cat,” Jan sighed, pushing her blow-dried waves of hair away from her face with her hand.

“Yeah, I always think watching her decision-making process is like watching an enormous baby trying to do calculus,” Brooke piped up, humour masking the genuine, real fear that this disastrous policy was about to go live. Its basic premise was to fine people who used their phones while they walked, to avoid collisions between pedestrians on the streets and therefore reduce waiting times at Accident and Emergency as there were less injuries. It was absolutely insane, but then this was a typical Darienne Lake policy. Vanessa had once told Brooke that she often genuinely wondered if someone was sneaking cocaine into Darienne’s pasta salads.

Obviously suffering from a rare pang of guilt, Vanessa sighed as she leant against Jan’s desk. “I don’t know. I think sometimes this party’s way too harsh on her. And the press.”

“Can you blame them?!” Brooke snorted derisively. “It sucks, but if you’re a woman in politics and you go out in dresses that look like someone put stick-on diamantes onto a burlap sack mid-seizure, of course Hello magazine are going to have a field day.”

“Come on, Brooke Lynn, you gotta admit that she’s a very nice woman,” Vanessa shook her head, laughing only slightly.

“Being a very nice woman doesn’t make you a good politician, though,” Jan chipped in with a grimace.

“So you’re going to follow her when she eventually goes then, Vanessa?” Nina piped up from behind her monitor, her eyebrows raised high into her blonde curls. Vanessa bit her lip.

“…well. I still want some form of career, let’s not take it too far.”

The three girls laughed as Vanessa blushed pink. Vanessa’s loyalty to Darienne didn’t stretch all that far. When Darienne had entered the job last year it had also meant she had arrived as Darienne’s senior advisor. It had quickly become clear to Brooke that Vanessa had got to where she was by telling people what they wanted to hear, smiling and nodding at every turn as Darienne drove the department into one dead end after another. Brooke admired Vanessa’s craftiness; her method of going along with whatever Darienne wanted meant that whenever the time came to blame someone Darienne never looked her way. Of course, Vanessa secretly hated basically every idea that Darienne had and quickly grew to trust Brooke (and eventually Jan when she joined the party) as somebody she could share her true feelings with. Over her time as part of Dosac the three girls had become great friends, forming a sort of secret alliance of common sense against Darienne’s crazy politics. She didn’t look in any way like a traditional government advisor, but Brooke still thought she was amazing.

At her job, that is.

“Face it, V,” Jan smiled sleepily, giving a stretch as Brooke shook herself out of her daydream. “Everyone’s running from Darienne like…ugh, I’m crap at one-liners at this time of the morning. Brooke, help me out?”

“Like she runs from Weight Watchers? Like obesity runs in her family? Like McDonald’s employees run whenever she steps foot in the building? Come on, Jan, that one was easy.”

“Guys, c’mon! That’s both way harsh an’ fatphobic as shit. Check yourself,” Vanessa chastised her friends, shaking her head. Jan pulled a guilty face and made a helpless gesture.

“All I’m saying is that Darienne Lake is sinking like the Titanic, if the Titanic was on fire and made entirely of burning shit, and we’re going to be playing the violins if we don’t start distancing ourselves from her as soon as we can,” she yawned.

“Does shit float or sink?” pondered Brooke as she chewed a pen.

“That’s not really the point here,” Jan rolled her eyes.

“Look, I don’ give a shit about burlap sacks, or burnin’ shit, or spitroasting or whatever the fuck you guys are talking ‘bout, I just think she’s gonna notice if we start lookin’ like we’re about to jump ship!” Vanessa cried, flustered.

Jan and Brooke shared a concerned look.

“I didn’t say anything about spitroasting. Do you even know what spitroasting is?” Brooke laughed uproariously. Jan and Nina giggled as Vanessa shot Brooke a displeased glare.

“No. It don’t sound very classy,” she sniffed, scrolling through her phone nonchalantly. As the laughter died down, Nina sighed from her desk.

“Even if she does notice, it won’t be an issue. I heard Bianca’s sorting her departure.”

The three girls gave Nina equally shocked glances, their jaws slack at this bomb of information coming from someone who was usually so little help.

“You…heard something? You have working ears? You have a working set of five senses?” Brooke teased her, gobsmacked but also a little excited at the prospect of getting someone competent in to run the department.

“Hey, I am actually of some use sometimes! Akeria over at Richmond Terrace told me at our last meeting.”

All at once, Brooke deflated in her seat. “Right, so what you really mean is…a senior press officer for the opposition told you that Bianca was planning to get rid of Darienne, knowing she’d eventually find out and making sure she’d become rattled so that Nicky would be able to capitalize on the fact that she’d be acting more like a bat on Ritalin than normal.”

Seeing Nina’s peeved expression, Jan piped up. “I’m sure there’s some element of truth in it, Brooke. I mean, Akeria’s not exactly party loyal, she’s just a civil servant.”

Brooke gave a little exhale. Jan was kind to the point of frustrating sometimes. “Well, if what Nina is saying is a fact-”

“Excuse me, I’m not Beedle the fucking Bard!” Nina cut in, resembling a meerkat as her head popped over the top of her monitor.

“- then maybe we should start distancing ourselves,” Brooke finished, shooting Nina an irked look, annoyed at having been interrupted. She noticed that Vanessa was giving her a confused sort of glance.

“How? How do we create distance when we’re advising the bitch?” she stammered, clearly becoming nervous at the prospect of a minor coup. Brooke laughed. These were the situations where Vanessa’s inexperience showed and, although it was sometimes tedious having to hold her hand through such conditions, it was also ever so slightly endearing.

“Don’t panic, ‘Ness, it’ll be fine. Bianca will have it taken care of,” she smiled, trying her best to reassure her friend.

Casting her eye to the clock, Jan narrowed her eyes. “V, you should probably head downstairs and meet the Minister. Her car’s going to be pulling up in, like, a minute.”

Cursing, Vanessa trotted towards the lifts as fast as her high heels could carry her. Brooke watched as she left, then exhaled loudly as she switched her computer on. Trying her best to relax, she cast her eye over the office. Apart from one glass-fronted room at the far end which belonged to Darienne, the majority of it was open plan. It was mostly filled with identical IKEA desks which were all the same shade of creamy grey and topped with piles and piles of work. Vanessa’s desk was messy with post-it notes plastered all round the screen of her monitor, encroaching on top of the piles of folders and ringbinders like some kind of horrific, neon disease. Brooke’s own was a sort of middle ground- most things were ordered but the nature of the job meant that sometimes a chaos of papers, files and briefing notes would sometimes hurricane itself across her desk. A stark contrast to the other two, Jan’s desk was like a beacon of order and tidiness in the hectic office. Everything had its place, her folders were all stored neatly and were colour-coded, and a packet of disinfectant wipes sat just beside the screen of her monitor. Their desks represented the three of them quite well.

Over to her left beside the lifts sat the cluster of desks which housed the communications team. Nina sat at its helm, situated near the desks of the advisors. To the right of Nina’s desk sat the two senior press officers, Scarlet and Yvie, and to Nina’s left were the two junior press officers, Jaida (who Brooke often thought to be far more competent than Nina and often prayed the two would somehow find themselves in some form of Freaky Friday body swap) and Adore, whose chair was empty. Brooke rolled her eyes hard- Adore had started as a civil service intern and Darienne had ended up keeping her on permanently. It had been another one of her diabolical decisions as Adore was ever so slightly scatterbrained, preferred scrolling her socials to tackling any of the pile of incomplete work the size of Kilimanjaro on her desk, and devoted around 90% of her day to making cups of tea. As a person she was great fun and brought a certain element of life to the office when everyone was down, but as someone Brooke had to work with she was a challenge. There had been many times where Brooke had fleetingly thought of pushing over the pile of folders on her desk one day and killing her, doing the department a great service.

Before Brooke could even open her emails, Darienne was marching through the department with Vanessa following behind her holding two large, red briefcases.

“Morning, morning!” she sing-songed as she made her way into her office. “Meeting in ten, yes ladies?”

Brooke shrugged half-heartedly in response, scrolling through her emails with disinterest. As she watched Darienne swing her office door shut she let out a huge, bored sigh.

There was suddenly a flurry of activity as the sound of approaching footsteps thundered along the corridor. Soon enough, a small girl with wide eyes, cheeks flushed pink and blonde hair with black roots appeared and flung herself down into the empty desk beside Jaida. Getting herself comfy, she kicked her heeled boots off and fired up her computer. Adore had arrived.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, ain’t anyone able to get to work on time?!” Vanessa hissed, exasperated and trying desperately to mask the fact that Adore had only just arrived at the office. Sipping on the coffee that was no doubt in her porcelain keep cup, Adore shot her a slack-jawed smile as the other press officers looked up from their work.

“Hey, I was working, thank you very much! I was doing important party business before I got here.”

“What kind of important party business?” asked Yvie, her interest piqued at the thought of Adore voluntarily doing any work.

“Laila McQueen,” Adore beamed, taking another big, loud sip. Jan laughed as Brooke rolled her eyes so hard they threatened to fall out her sockets. “Hey, it just means we have The Independent on our side for the next couple of days!”

“Good work, girl. You’re like a broadsheet Julia Roberts. I didn’t know Bianca had started pimping people out,” Scarlet shot Adore a sarcastic grin and received a tight-lipped smile and one middle finger in response which made her snort a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, very good, Adore, real impressive. That’s your one minute of glory up. You think you could go and get us some tea? And maybe some pastries, Darienne’ll probably be hungry,” Vanessa ordered, Adore pouting and lazily rising from her desk.

“Probably? It’s not like there’s an element of doubt to it,” Brooke snorted a laugh. “Get her a cinnamon roll the size of a fucking Swiss cheese, that should do her fine.”

Five minutes later, Brooke found herself sipping a subpar cup of tea in Darienne’s office, craving the sweet embrace of death as she listened to her witter on about how Raja Gemini wasn’t that intimidating, and that contrary to popular belief she was able to hold her own against the big journalists. Jan was attempting to talk her down from the ledge of misplaced confidence she had seemed to have clambered up to, Vanessa was doing her best impersonation of a nodding dog, and Nina was sleepily casting her eyes between Darienne and Jan as they spoke, her notebook blank.

“Do you have a strong opening line?” Jan asked the Minister nervously, prodding at her lip with nerves. Darienne smiled smugly, leaning back and relaxing in her chair.

“Once we implement these fines, the waiting times at A&E will be shorter than the waiting times at McDonalds. Ambulances will practically start operating drive thrus!” she reeled off, grinning proudly at the line she’d clearly spent hours thinking up. Stifling laughter, Brooke watched the reactions of the other girls. Nina’s pen hovered above her notebook hesitantly as if she couldn’t quite believe she had to write the drivel down, and Vanessa and Jan were staring at each other, wide-eyed with incredulity.

“Jesus. I’ve seen stronger newborn children,” Brooke sighed as she leant forward and sat her cup of tea on Darienne’s desk, too disgusted to attempt to drink any more. “That cup of tea was stronger than that opening line.”

“Hey! I spent all night thinking that up,” Darienne cried, offended. Jan furrowed her brow.

“Honestly Darienne, it does kind of sound like you pulled it out of your ass.”

“Speaking of assholes, Bianca’s in the building,” Nina spoke up, checking her phone. The mood in the room suddenly plummeted.

Everyone was afraid of Bianca. The only separating factor was just how afraid they were of Bianca. She was the prime Minister’s enforcer and spin doctor, the lady who made it clear to everyone in government that they had to know the line and toe the line, often spinning the party out of crises like a terrifying dreidel. She had no time for time wasters, bluffers, blue-sky thinkers, or people who weren’t one hundred percent capable of doing their job, and often unleashed hell on those that weren’t. Brooke was a big girl, she could handle herself, but there was still something about the authority that Bianca radiated and how intimidating she was that made her just that little bit nervous. She knew she had an easy-going side, but Brooke hadn’t seen it often.

“She looking for us?” Vanessa asked nervously.

“No, I’m sure she’s walking around the department trying to get her steps in for the day. What do you think?!” Nina hissed back, glaring momentarily at Vanessa then back to her phone. “Any second now…”

“Good morning, Bianca,” Jan greeted as a woman strode confidently into the office on six-inch Louboutins. Despite the fact her caramel waves of hair had a slight haze of frizz from the drizzle outside she was otherwise perfectly put-together, wearing a matching black suit jacket and pencil skirt combo. Her makeup was bright like the patterns on a poisonous frog and her lips were painted with bright red lipstick. Or perhaps that was just the blood of another poor cabinet Minister.

“Yes, good morning, and I’m hoping it’s going to be a good fucking morning, because this one-” she trained a single black fake nail on Darienne’s face “-is fully prepped for her Gemini interview at 12, correct?”

“Don’t worry Bianca. I was up all night,” Darienne gave her a saccharine sweet smile, which Bianca turned her nose up at.

“So you’re fully aware she thinks it’s an utterly fucking horrible idea?” Bianca tilted her head very slightly.

“She’s not the only one,” Jan muttered, just loud enough for Brooke to hear.

Darienne looked somewhat put out, her face falling. Sighing, Brooke looked to the ceiling. Vanessa was right- the Minister was a nice lady, but how in the hell could she think that policy was anything less than an utter car crash?! Brooke began to allow herself to daydream, which admittedly was always a risk in Bianca’s presence, but already this day was like a huge, massive wave towering over them all before a tsunami and she needed to disconnect. She was aware of Bianca’s voice tearing into Darienne in the background.

“What if she asks you how many police hours this will take up? What are you going to say then?”

“I would simply point her to the amount of money that this policy would generate, which would well make up for the drain on resources-”

“Jesus H Fuck, who did your media training? Myra Hindley? Don’t use the word ‘drain’! Don’t use any words with any negative connotations whatsoever! I don’t want a single word out of place in this interview; otherwise Gemini is going to start analysing it like Gillian McKeith analyses people’s shit.”

Darienne appeared to think things over for a moment. “So can I…I mean…can I use the word no?”

Brooke only just stopped herself from physically slapping her hand to her forehead. Bianca looked incredulously at the faces of the four other girls, each as long-suffering as the last.

“Have I suddenly imagined a storybook character into life? Did a child make a wish on a shooting star last night, is that why fucking Moon-Face is sitting at a desk in front of me? Are the other Faraway Tree friends about to walk in through the door and start running the country?”

Darienne cast her eyes to the floor, the message well and truly received.

“You mentioned the amount of money that this would generate. Is this going to be the saving grace of this policy? Is this going to be the diamond ring within the shit of the dog who accidentally ate it?”

“You’re very faecally focussed today, Bianca,” Jan piped up with a frown as Brooke stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, well. It’s hard not to be when you’re within a 5 mile radius of this department,” she scoffed.

“Well within the first month, we’re looking to generate around…um, Vanessa?” Darienne cast her eyes to the senior advisor, whose gaze shifted to Bianca nervously.

“Unbelievable. She can’t even retain her own fucking figures. Come on then, Britain’s number fifteen Rihanna impersonator, give me some good fucking news.”

“Uh, we think…well, Darienne thinks…that within the first month of enforcement we could generate around £25,000 in £50 fines.”

Bianca’s face grew very gradually cold, Vanessa freezing to the spot as if she’d just been stared at by Medusa. Even Brooke shivered.

“You mean to tell me,” she began, her voice extremely measured and shaking only slightly. “That out of a population of 64 million people, who normally stumble around the streets with their heads in their phone screens like puppets with their strings cut, we’d be able to fine…500 a month?”

“Well, we deliberately predicted under target so that the actual figure would come as a pleasant surprise!” Darienne smiled back, completely nonplussed at Bianca’s rage.

“If I could interject, I don’t seem to remember there being any ‘we’ about it,” Nina spoke up dryly, before lowering her head back down into her notebook.

“I really love the logic of this department. Maybe you should all become teachers! 50 add 50 equals 25, and when you find out that the real answer is actually 100, well that’s just a fucking pleasant surprise, isn’t it?! The crime stats from the last quarter revealed that there had been 73 murders committed, except- what a nice surprise! There were actually 78, because we forgot to count your five fucking bodies after I ripped them to fucking shreds!”

Brooke had no idea why Darienne was so calm. It was like her brain had been replaced by a huge goldfish bowl. Vanessa, however, looked a little shell-shocked, and Brooke couldn’t help the pang her heart gave as her protective instincts took over.

Only for a moment, though.

“We’ve got time to accumulate some more accurate figures. They wouldn’t be bang on, but definitely a lot more impressive than £25,000, and they’d probably placate Gemini,” Brooke shrugged, sitting up a little straighter in her seat as she addressed Bianca. Casting her frown Brooke’s way, Bianca seemed to calm down very slightly.

“Finally someone in this room that isn’t a massive, walking, talking sac of amniotic fluid. Get it done, okay? I’ll see you all after the interview.”

As Bianca left the room, the other girls all visibly relaxed. Vanessa began rubbing at her shoulder, clearly tense after being momentarily in the firing line. Flustered, Darienne finally spoke.

“Right well, Brooke, if you could sort that out within the hour,” she smiled, as if she was in control in any way. “Jan and Nina, if you could stay with me so that we can smooth out the finer details of this interview, and Vanessa if you could get started on the transport data please.”

“Uh, that ain’t gonna be possible, Minister, ‘cause I got a lot of stuff left over from yesterday an’ I still need to send that email over to Nick at the treasury, an’ uh…” Vanessa suddenly blurted out, clearly still slightly rattled from Bianca’s visit. Brooke screwed her face up. What the fuck was she doing? Darienne looked equally perplexed as Vanessa stammered a correction. “I mean…no, yeah, of course. I’ll get it done as soon as I can.”

As Darienne dismissed them and Brooke and Vanessa marched out of the office, Brooke immediately grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her into the toilets.

“Brooke Lynn! What the hell?!” Vanessa protested, her eyes fiery.

“What the hell was that in the office there?!”

Vanessa knit her brows together. “You told us to start distancing ourselves from her! I was tryin’ my fuckin’ best!”

“Yeah, distancing yourself, not starting a revolution! Am I talking to someone who works in politics or a seventeen year old who just got a D in their Modern Studies A-level?!” Brooke sighed, exasperated. She regretted it immediately when she saw Vanessa’s shoulders slump forward as she did her best impression of a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa muttered, shaking her head slightly. “I just…Bianca kinda panicked me.”

Without thinking, Brooke rested her hand on Vanessa’s arm in an attempt to comfort her. “Look…I know it’s hard for you. I get that you entered politics as Darienne’s aide and that if she goes, the road ahead is going to be kind of…non-existent. Well, not non-existent, just extremely winding and bumpy and parts of it might not have been built yet. But you’re party loyal, right?”

Vanessa nodded silently. “I’m not a fuckin’ hack. I came into this job so I could help change things for people, except sometimes I just feel like we’re not doing much good.”

“Yeah, well. That’s because the PM is too balls-deep in his secretary to run the country for more than five minutes, but anyway. The point is that you’ll be okay, we’ll all be okay! You, me, Jan. The dream team,” Brooke beamed at her, her heart soaring as Vanessa’s face lit up. “Just keep following whatever Darienne does, but keep your ears open. Any sign of a possible new option, glue yourself to them. Do your best leech impression.”

Vanessa’s face contorted as she took Brooke’s last comment literally, and both of them shared a laugh.

“But don’t panic. Like Jan said, Bianca’s going to sort it. You saw her in there, she’s at the end of her tether with that giant egg we’ve got running the department. We’ll be fine.”

As Vanessa giggled, Brooke found herself blushing very slightly. Stepping forward that little bit more, she wrapped her arms around Vanessa in a gentle hug. She smelt of a very sweet, sugary perfume, and momentarily Brooke found it hard to let go, her heart thudding in her ribcage.

“Thanks, Brooke. You’re a sweetheart,” Vanessa smiled bashfully as she pulled away, sweeping her hair behind her ears. Brooke cast her eyes to the floor, embarrassed by the compliment.

“Come on. We’ve got work to do. You should start doctoring those transport stats for fun.”

Pushing open the door, Vanessa laughed and raised her eyebrows. “I got a C in my Modern Studies A-level anyway, so I don’t appreciate the accusation, ma’am.”

As the two girls made their way back to their desks, Brooke tried to clear her head. The conversation had dredged up a lot of feelings she’d been trying to repress. She didn’t have a crush on Vanessa. She wasn’t attracted to her like that at all. She was just protective of her, and she couldn’t help it if she was cute when she was flustered, or nervous, or happy, or irritated, or doing anything. That was just a fact. It didn’t mean she liked her as anything more than a friend.

Besides, the position of token workplace lesbian couple had already been filled by Scarlet and Yvie.

***

Brooke sighed, her disapproval hidden in the darkness of the news studio along with cameras, a teleprompter, and Vanessa. Why in the name of God was this interview live? It was barbaric to screen a brutal murder on lunchtime TV. Christ, there could be kids watching. Casting her eyes to the ceiling, she knew that Nina could have helped the situation. She could’ve pushed for it to be pre-recorded. But in her head she was already hearing the excuse about Raven at the BBC being “such a nice girl”, and that “she complimented my outfit once at Alyssa’s book launch”, so perhaps there was never any chance of it being anything but live.

As the Minister stammered and stuttered her way through her lines, Brooke wondered how Raja was able to keep such a stony, cold expression. She was essentially watching the complete breakdown of Darienne’s political credibility in front of her, that was surely worth some pity. Contemplating the situation, Brooke supposed that having pity wasn’t really going to do a journalist any favours. Raja had been out at Gaza, for fuck’s sake. She was hardly going to be sympathetic to this human pannacotta sat in front of her, Darienne’s voice wobbling and wavering over every line she spoke as Raja’s eyes bore into her.

Brooke looked briefly to Vanessa, who was just looking at Darienne sadly. Brooke had to feel sorry for her. Vanessa had placed her trust in the Minister to introduce her to the world of politics, a world she clearly wanted to be a part of for all the right reasons, and yet this was the thanks she got. Sitting having to watch her boss pedal horrific policy after horrific policy and watching as her and her colleagues got constantly ignored.

She deserved better.

Momentarily Brooke thought about making a joke, but reasoned that it would probably go down as well as a lead balloon. Instead, she texted Jan, safe from the debris of Darienne’s collapsing career at the office where she, Bianca and the communications team were all watching.

B: Jesus. I’ve seen ISIS condemned for less than this.

There was a pause as Jan texted back. Brooke tuned back into the interview.

“…shorter than the, um, waiting times at McDonalds. Ambulances will practically start operating drive thrus!”

Brooke audibly groaned. Darienne had obviously inflated her life belt, pulling out her precious line as a last-ditch attempt to save the interview. Raja was less impressed.

“That sounds like an extremely serious comparison, Minister, you’re saying that this policy will simply rush patients through A&E as if they were…a burger? How thorough will doctors and nurses be?”

And there Darienne was again, back to flailing around the interview as if she was drowning.

J: I’ve never seen a human being reduced to actual liquid before. Hope you have a tub to transport her back to the office.

B: How’s Bianca holding up?

A pause.

J: I’ve seen mothers look less disgusted at their own afterbirth.

B: I really hope you haven’t.

***

The first thing Brooke, Darienne and Vanessa were greeted with on their arrival back at the office was Nina, a frown on her face.

“Well I’m glad that interview went so well. We’ve been fending off calls from several papers asking if this policy is, quote, the government’s dying whalesong, and The Sun are planning to run with the headline ‘Would you like dies with that’, in reference to the suggestion that the NHS is about to go down the drain.”

Brooke shook her head in contempt. “Imagine going to university for three years, getting a first in journalism, and then being paid to come up with that crap.”

“Absolutely. I think we should run with the line that these accusations are nonsensical,” Darienne bristled, annoyed that her pride and joy of a policy wasn’t making the impact it was supposed to. Brooke snapped her head round to face the Minister.

“I mean, I don’t think we can cover our backs that easily. You did that interview sounding as if you’d just survived a house fire, I mean why did you include that drive-thru line?!”

“It was an emergency! It was a last ditch attempt, I had to do something!” Darienne barked back, her face set in a frown.

Vanessa butted in. “An emergency line? A line to be used in an emergency? What the hell were the instructions? In case of emergency, break glass by throwin’ yourself through the top floor window of Broadcasting House?!”

The shouting match was stopped abruptly as Jan’s calm drawl trailed through the office. “Brooke, I just got a text from Bianca. She said she wants to see you in her office in five minutes, and if you’re late she’s going to make you stand in the Dosac lobby on a hot day and watch your face fry off.”

A horrified pause. “Her words, not mine.”

Exhaling noisily, Brooke grabbed her bag from where she’d just thrown it down on her desk. She tried to ignore Darienne’s smug smile as she made her way to the lift and a meeting with the most feared woman in politics.

***

Being able to see the inner workings of 10 Downing Street was like the part in The Wizard Of Oz when the curtain gets pulled back to reveal the Wizard as a sham. On the outside, it was the most perfect professional façade, a backdrop for thousands of press announcements, resignations and appointments. On the inside it resembled a prison riot at best, a hive of people running around trying to fix something, or spin something, or frantically complete some piece of unfinished work. It was slightly quieter today, Brooke had noticed, as she sat on a hard, wooden chair outside Bianca’s office.

She’d been there dead on time but Bianca was running ten minutes late so far. Lesser, more idiotic humans would call her out on it, but Brooke had a functioning brain and a desire to stay alive until at least the end of the day. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and curled her lip. She hadn’t a clue why Bianca had called her for a meeting and chose to pass up on the opportunity to berate Darienne about that car crash of an interview. If Bianca was looking for someone to blame, it couldn’t be Brooke. She had been under the impression that Bianca found her tolerable, but you could never really tell what her opinions on anything were. The woman’s poker face was so good she could’ve gone professional in Vegas.

The varnished, wooden door of Bianca’s office suddenly swung open, Bianca standing poised in front of Brooke like a bird of prey.

“You’re late,” she sniffed, as she held the door open for Brooke to come in. Mumbling an apology, Brooke slumped down into the leather-bound chair opposite Bianca’s desk and simply waited for whatever was about to come, looking casually around the room. It was a setting she knew all too well- the marble, white fireplace, the eerie green lamp giving off an abnormal white light on her desk. The nondescript paintings of some long-dead war heroes, the bookcases filled with files and files and files. The entire room screamed power and intimidation.

“Do you want a coffee, Brooke?” Bianca began casually as she sat down opposite her. Perplexed, Brooke shook her head.

“I’m okay…I’d kind of just like to find out why I’m here. I mean, aren’t you supposed to be after Darienne?”

Snorting a laugh, Bianca rose from her chair and moved to perch on the edge of her desk. She was slightly above Brooke’s level, but her tone and general aura were quite relaxed, bordering on informal.

“You were friends with Jaqueline Cox at university, correct?”

Ouch. The memories ripped through Brooke’s mind like a migraine. Jackie Cox, the know-it-all in every seminar. Jackie Cox, the try-hard in every presentation. Jackie Cox, with the smug smile and the glossy dark hair and the perfect matching stationary. She knew Jackie, and Brooke knew enough to know she wasn’t a fan.

“Friends is pushing it. She was on the same course as me and was about as irritating as thrush, and that’s all I really had to do with her,” she sniffed in her own non-committal way. Bianca flared her nostrils and made a face, indicating to Brooke that she’d given a wrong answer.

“Okay, maybe my phrasing was a little off. In case you haven’t noticed, you haven’t stumbled into some friendship bracelet craft class, this is Downing Street. So I’ll rephrase the question. Is she any good?”

Brooke felt momentarily like she was trapped in a lion enclosure. “Is she any good at…?”

“At juggling silicone breast implants and walking a tightrope over a lake of tepid piss. Is she any good at politics?!”

“God, I mean…I guess she’d be a good politician,” Brooke admitted begrudgingly. “She’s principled, she’s got strong morals and a backbone. She’s eloquent enough and nowhere near as big a car crash as that sheep’s placenta we’ve got as a Minister.”

Bianca smiled fleetingly, then stood and walked back to her chair, appeased.

“Perfect,” she said, her eyes boring into Brooke’s as she sat down. Looking momentarily behind her, Brooke shifted in her seat.

“So…why are you asking about Jackie?” she asked slowly, drawing each word out just that little bit too long to be necessary in her hesitation. Bianca smiled slowly in return.

“It came to my attention this afternoon that maybe there needs to be some…changes made around here. My party is being made to look like a laughing stock, and I don’t like it,” she growled, her eyes growing dark. “Darienne’s been palming off her expenses forms onto you, correct?”

Brooke nodded silently.

“Maybe it would be in your best interests…and the party’s best interests…to doctor them slightly. Then if they end up in the hands of the media…so be it. She’s left with no credibility, there’s no coming back from that. She’ll have to resign. Then really all that’s left to do is get a replacement in. Smooth as a bottle of Moët,” Bianca shrugged, leaning back in her chair calmly. Blinking twice, Brooke suddenly became apprehensive.

“Bianca, I can’t…I can’t just fake her expenses claims.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you have a note from your Mum? Have you got a cold and you can’t take part in this part of your actual job? You’re surprising me, Brooke,” Bianca sighed, clearly disappointed. “I honestly thought you had something different in you. A spine, a brain. Some form of drive, determination to succeed. You love this party, yes? You came into politics to make a difference, right?”

Brooke flinched slightly. Bianca was hitting her where it hurt, and she knew it was going to get a rise out of her. “Of course. I want us to succeed. I want us to change things.”

Bianca smiled, glad to have received a sufficient reaction.

“Then sometimes things have to be done by any means necessary,” she said gravely, running her tongue along her teeth. “If Jackie accepts the offer, she’ll be the new head of Dosac by tomorrow afternoon.”

Something about the whole appointment of Jackie Cox didn’t sit right with Brooke. She was just an annoying, opinionated, mouthy university girl, and there were ten a penny of those in London. Why her? Why not someone slightly more tolerable?

“Why does it have to be Jackie, why can’t it be someone else?” she voiced what she was thinking, annoyed. Bianca laughed, clearly amused.

“Okay, Miss Political Advisor. Advise me, since I’ve clearly not weighed up all the options.”

Stuck for a moment, Brooke’s brain began racing round at a hundred miles an hour. “Kelly Mantle. The back bencher from Education, she’s good.”

“No. She looks too much like a resident of Whoville to be put in the spotlight. Can you imagine when she inevitably fucks up, what the headlines will be? Who dunnit? Whose fault is it this time? Who, who, who, all over the front pages like owls with tourettes.”

Brooke sighed, then perked up with another idea. “What about Bianca Castro from Health?”

“Who, Jiggly?” Bianca asked, nonplussed.

“…Bianca Castro. She has a good track record, the public would love her-”

“Yeah, Jiggly.”

“Bianca, her name isn’t Jiggly.”

“The media damn well think it is after they got hold of those photos of her at the all-you-can-eat world buffet. Not exactly astounding publicity for a junior health Minister. She’s going nowhere.”

Brooke barely held in a grunt of frustration. “Ongina, that MP for-”

“Her name literally sounds like vagina. PR disaster. Next.”

“Jade Jolie.”

“She couldn’t run a bath, never mind a department.”

“Lashawn, then?!”

Bianca threw her head back and hooted a laugh. “You’re joking, right? Can you imagine her even trying to pronounce some of the names on the immigration database? She stays firmly on the back bench.”

Brooke pouted a little, frustration seeping out of every pore. Seeing her obvious displeasure, Bianca’s tone became placating, the woman’s softer side making a rare appearance.

“Look. Right now, we need strong leaders in this party. Jackie is about as strong as we’re going to get from what I’ve heard, and we need her to steer us out of this ditch that Darienne’s gradually lowered us into. You don’t need to worry about a thing, apart from those expenses forms. I’ll take care of it,” she smiled, reassuring Brooke as she stood and made to leave. Before she reached the door, a thought suddenly struck her like iced lightning, freezing her to the spot.

“Bianca…” Brooke began hesitantly. “Do you think Jackie will come with her own people? I mean, I’m not hugely up to date with her movements, so I don’t know how prepared she’ll be, and I’m fine, I can look after myself, you know? But like, Vanessa…and Jan, of course. Will she…will they get to keep their jobs?”

Bianca’s eyes were instantly on her, searching and wondering about the hidden agenda behind Brooke’s question. “I’ve worked with you for a while, Brooke Lynn. I must say, I’ve never seen you get attached to anyone in this game.”

“Well, you know,” Brooke shrugged, maintaining a cool exterior. “We work well together. We’re a good team. And she’s a valuable member of the department, that’s all.”

“Vanessa or Jan?” Bianca questioned.

“They both are! I just…I just want to make sure they’ll both be fine.”

Bianca moved to the doorway, gently showing her out. “Just doctor those expenses. Try not to pop a blood vein while doing so.”

Sighing, Brooke shook Bianca’s hand and click-clacked her way down the marble hallway towards the famous black door. Not too far along the corridor, she heard Bianca call after her.

“Brooke Lynn!”

She turned around sharply.

“Loyalty gets remembered in this party. Especially by me.”

***

Brooke hit send on her email to Bianca at 5.30pm on the dot. Darienne had claimed for Ubers from here to Downing Street, business lunches at nearby curry houses, and, just for laughs, a helicopter. Brooke had felt a little guilty fabricating it all, but it was impossible not to. If she had a complete lack of morals she’d be working for Nicky’s party, not Darienne’s. However, as Bianca had said, it was for the good of the party that she had to go.

She was still unsure about Jackie though. If everything went smoothly, by this time tomorrow she’d be sitting in Darienne’s office barking orders at her. It would be like every university group project all over again. Brooke had never actively disliked Jackie, she’d just found her grating. She was slightly unique, though. True, there were many girls of her type on her course, argumentative and challenging, but there were few that held their composure so well throughout a debate, maintaining class and superiority the entire time. Maybe that’s why she’d rubbed Brooke the wrong way so violently. Anyway, there had been a good eight years separating her time at uni and her time within the realm of politics. Perhaps Jackie was different now.

Shutting down her computer, she swivelled her chair round to face the other girls. She’d communicated to everyone through hushed whispers that Bianca’s plan was being put into effect immediately, creating an excited buzz around the office for the last few hours of the day. Regrettably she’d noticed that Vanessa had become more subdued because of it, the girl clearly wondering where this left her career. Brooke wanted nothing more than to see her happy again. She just hadn’t had time to attempt to cheer her up in between the expenses and finishing the transport data.

It looked as if Adore had already left, her chair empty and her bag gone with her half-empty coffee cup on her desk. Nina had long since vanished, her desk clear and any evidence of her ever having been there completely gone. Jaida was clearly in for the long shift, still working steadily through her excel spreadsheet with an energy drink by her keyboard. Jan was pulling on her coat, fixing her hair rapidly, and Scarlet and Yvie looked ready to leave too. Vanessa suddenly appeared in front of her.

“Hey,” she smiled gently. “We’re goin’ for a drink, think we could all do with one after today. You coming?”

Brooke fleetingly thought of a night with the girls, of just having a laugh and being slightly less stressed than normal. The thought of a glass of wine was tempting, but then the immediate thought of work the next day and how chaotic it would be made her decision for her.

“Sorry, ‘Ness. I’m going to head back. Next time though, yeah?” Brooke gave a tight smile, sighing a little when Vanessa’s face grew slightly more disappointed than before. As she nodded understandingly and turned to leave, Brooke suddenly grabbed her hand without really knowing why. Checking the office to see if anyone was looking at them, Vanessa then gazed at Brooke, confused.

“Talk to me. You’re still worried about tomorrow, aren’t you?” Brooke murmured quietly, trying not to draw attention to them. Jan was chatting happily with Scarlet and Yvie was hugging Jaida goodbye, so they were safe for now.

Vanessa’s face was worried. “I just don’t like the uncertainty. I wouldn’t be as worried if it didn’t mean I could get split up from you and Jan. We’re so good together. I don’t wanna lose that.”

Brooke’s heart swelled a little in her chest. “Listen. Don’t make it common knowledge, but I might have had a hand in Bianca’s plan. She kind of hinted that I’d be repaid in some way. We’ll all stay, don’t worry. I trust her.”

Brooke almost breathed a sigh of relief as Vanessa’s shocked face grew into a bright, happy smile. “Fuck, Brooke Lynn, you serious?!”

“Yeah. I got one wish. I sold my soul to the devil. Sue me,” Brooke snorted sarcastically, making Vanessa laugh.

“Wait, what’d you have to do for her?” Vanessa whispered, her eyes excited.

“I had to sleep with her. It was horrendous. She eats pussy like I eat noodles. Slurp slurp slurp.”

Vanessa’s nose wrinkled up as she laughed uproariously, drawing the attention of the other girls to them to Brooke’s dismay. Vanessa looked beautiful when she laughed. Then again, she looked beautiful all the time. That was just a fact, of course.

“Hey, Brooke! You coming out with us or what? Silk and Akeria are joining, ” Yvie yelled over, smiling as she wrapped her arm around Scarlet’s slim waist. Brooke tried her best not to screw her face up- she had a hard time being polite to anyone from the opposition, even if they were only civil service comms officers.

“Nah, she’s being boring,” Vanessa teased, sticking her tongue out.

“Aw, come on, Brooke! You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, ‘specially tequila ones,” Scarlet piped up, giggling and throwing her other arm around Yvie. Brooke smiled at the affectionate couple.

“Yeah, well, like Vanessa said, I’m being boring tonight. You and Yvie take care of those two liver transplants waiting to happen, okay? I can’t quite believe I’m saying it but you need to be the responsible ones.”

As Scarlet laughed, Yvie and Jan said their goodbyes to Brooke. Vanessa was still hovering at her desk, a small smile on her face as she bent down and hugged Brooke without warning.

“You’re the best member of this whole department, an’ the best damn work friend I could want,” she whispered, her words lighting up Brooke’s heart. Pulling back, she gave a quick glance to the girls who were waiting on the lift to arrive. “I owe you one, bitch. Have a good night. Eat dinner and sleep well, ‘kay?”

Brooke gazed fondly at Vanessa, her tiny frame retreating into the lift. Vanessa cared about her. She cared about everyone. It was part of the reasons why Brooke liked her so much.

In the most platonic way possible, obviously.

***

Arriving at work the next day, it was clear that Bianca’s plan had worked. Thanks to a few emails to the big papers, Darienne’s false expenses claims were plastered over all the front pages, giving a pretty damning verdict.

“She’s good at leaking, isn’t she? Bianca, I mean,” Nina pondered casually from her desk, causing Brooke to look up from The Times.

“She’s brilliant. She’s like an 85 year old woman that never did pelvic floor exercises,” Scarlet muttered, ignoring the ringing phone.

“Nothing in The Independent about it though, I’ll give you that, Adore. Laila McQueen must’ve been one satisfied customer,” Jan laughed, holding up the front page which was jarringly dissonant with the other headlines, instead focussing on something to do with the polar icecaps melting.

“I’m good! I keep telling you all and you never listen,” Adore winked cheekily, as the phone continued to ring.

“Ain’t someone gonna answer that?!” Vanessa snapped, frustrated. Jaida reached for the receiver hesitantly, looking at Nina to gauge her reaction. Fixing her eagle eyes on her in disapproval, Jaida drew her hand back as if the phone was a hot stove.

“I’ve told them all we’re in a no comment situation,” Nina turned to Vanessa, shrugging. “There’s nothing else we need to say. If those bastards don’t get the meaning of that then quite frankly they shouldn’t be in journalism.”

Brooke stayed quiet throughout the whole exchange. She was worried, fretting about what Darienne would say when she arrived. She knew full well she was going to get the blame, hell, she was to blame. As much as Brooke could pretend to be completely ruthless, the guilt was beginning to seep in. At this point everyone in the department knew it was Brooke who had a hand in fixing the expenses forms and although everyone was being perfectly normal and friendly towards her, she was concerned about what they really thought and what they’d say when she left the room.

She hadn’t even seen Jan come and stand next to her.

“You’re awful quiet today, sweetie,” she drawled, leaning against a set of shelves that contained about twenty thousand government files. “Everything alright?”

Brooke nodded silently, brushing her fringe out of her face. That didn’t appear to satisfy Jan.

“Look, nobody thinks any less of you for what you did. It’s politics, it’s not kid’s TV. Sacrifices have to be made, people have to be disposed of. You did the department a favour, to be honest,” she continued, as if she could read Brooke’s mind. Brooke couldn’t help but smile. Jan had a certain telepathic quality, and often she could begin cheering you up before you even knew what reasons you had to be sad. She was a total ray of sunshine, and her happy-go-lucky personality was welcome in the department today.

“Thanks, girl,” Brooke sighed, stretching out in her chair and giving Jan a tight smile. “That means a lot. You’re a blessing to this department. I mean, God knows the mood in here today’s about as flat as…well. Maybe it’s my turn to not be good at one-liners today.”

Jan laughed softly, leaning back a little more against the files. “I try my best. But hey, I should thank you! Once Darienne goes, I might see about standing as an MP in the next by-election.”

Brooke raised her eyebrows a little. She had no idea that Jan had even had ambitions outside of performing at every available karaoke bar London had to offer. “Really?!”

“Yeah, I’ve kind of been thinking about it for a while.”

Brooke was secretly excited about the prospect of working with just Vanessa. Purely because things would be easier to organise between just two people, and things would just run more smoothly. It wasn’t because she had a crush on her or anything, that would be a ridiculous accusation. Brooke was a professional. There was no scope for things like that in this game.

“Well, I’m sure you’d be amazing. The public would love you,” she smiled at her friend sincerely. Flattered, Jan relaxed completely against the shelves, a giant file careering from the top shelf onto the ground.

“I’ll get it,” Brooke reassured Jan, whose face was apologetic.

“Right, I’m goin’ to fetch Darienne,” Vanessa announced, making her way to the lifts a little nervously. “Smiles an’ happiness when she arrives please, people, try not to make the office feel too much like a wake.”

Yvie tipped her head back over the back of her chair, looking at Vanessa upside-down. “Are we not supposed to be mourning the bitch’s career?”

With a long-suffering shake of her head, Vanessa disappeared into the lift.

Five minutes later, Brooke was picking up the dropped file from behind the shelf when two sets of footsteps thundered through the office and a voice cut through the click-clack, tapping keyboards and ringing phones.

“MEETING ROOM, NOW!”

Slowly, Brooke crept towards Darienne’s office, following a running Nina and Jan. Darienne was standing behind the desk, her face a thunderstorm. As soon as Brooke skulked in she narrowed her eyes.

“Can someone, maybe Brooke Lynn, tell me why my face is all over the papers like a disgraced fucking gym teacher?!” she barked, her voice reverberating off the glass door of her office.

“Okay, there must have been some form of mix-up with the forms because yours was completely clean when I submitted it,” Brooke immediately fired back. She’d had a bit of time to come up with her defence and, even though it was completely feeble, it was better than silence.

“That’s got to be the most shit excuse I’ve ever heard. How does something like that happen?!” Darienne yelled back. Suddenly, everyone’s eyes shifted to the doorframe of the office, where Bianca had arrived.

“Hey, big spender,” she greeted the Minister, the joke sitting out of place with the purpose of her arrival.

“Bianca, I didn’t claim for those things. I don’t know what’s going on, I gave my forms to Brooke to do, we need to tell the press that these claims are fake!” Darienne gibbered, panicking like Bianca was holding her hostage.

“Yeah, what are we running with, Bianca? We’ve been in a no comment situation all morning,” Jan asked.

“The phone’s been ringing off the hook. I’ve been ignoring it but we’ve got to give them something soon enough,” Nina shrugged, nodding in agreement. Bianca let out a harsh exhale, rubbing her neck tersely.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, could you all just get off my back for a hot second?! You’re like a pack of fucking fleas. Are you not supposed to be a team of advisors? Are you not supposed to be head of communications?!” Bianca cried, shooting Nina an icy glare. Completely unfazed, Nina clicked her pen.

“Yes, but I’m completely unable to do anything if I don’t know what we’re communicating!”

Bianca rolled her huge eyes up to the heavens, seemingly trying to cool her boiling blood. As Brooke scanned her eyes over the rest of the room, she caught Vanessa looking straight at her, her eyes a little fearful. Brooke shot her the most reassuring smile she could manage and almost gave an audible sigh of relief when Vanessa seemed to relax.

“So, you want to go out to the media and tell them that, hey! It’s not so bad, because the truth is that I’m too lazy to fill out my own fucking expenses forms, so I just gave them to one of my aides to fill out! I’m not actually keeping that close an eye on how much I’m claiming back! Do you realise how that’s going to look?” Bianca scowled, Darienne sighing and slumping into her chair.

“So what do we do?!” she asked, her voice somewhere between a whine and a plea. Brooke began to feel a bit less guilty as she rolled her eyes. She wished Darienne had a bit more backbone, a bit more of a spine. It would endear her to her a lot more. That sort of big-eyed deer act was only cute when Vanessa did it.

There was a momentary silence in which Nina clicked her pen repeatedly, looking from Darienne to Bianca, then back to Darienne.

“You have two options,” Bianca finally said, her voice much quieter than before. Turning to the other girls, she addressed them gravely. “Could you ladies give us a moment.”

Not a question, a demand. One by one, Brooke, Vanessa, Jan and Nina all filed out and wordlessly closed the door. After a heartbeat of silence, Nina sprinted over to the comms team.

“Is it happening?!” Scarlet asked, wide-eyes and open mouthed, like a child at Christmas.

“It’s happening now! It’s happening now. Two bullets in the back of the head, bang, bang!” Nina replied excitedly, her voice ringing through the offices as she mimed a brutal murder.

“Nina!” Vanessa hissed, motioning to the glass-fronted office where Bianca and Darienne were standing motionless, looking at Nina impassively. Horrified, she abruptly sat down in her seat.

“I can’t believe it’s actually going on right now. Fuck. She’s gonna hate me, ain’t she?” Vanessa worried, biting her nails. Jan slapped her hand away from her mouth.

“Stop that!” she reprimanded, Vanessa looking to the floor sheepishly. “She won’t hate you, and if she does, well, that’s politics. She’s a grown adult, she can handle it. She knew the profession she was entering into was ruthless.”

“Nobody could hate you,” Brooke added, brushing Vanessa’s cheek with her finger very slightly. “You’re like a fucking carebear. It’s impossible.”

A pink blush crept over Vanessa’s face. “You two are too sweet to me, get outta here. Hey, have we heard about a replacement?”

Brooke sighed. “I don’t know if she’s accepted it or not yet, but Bianca told me Jackie Cox is in the running.”

Jan and Vanessa’s faces both screwed up. “Who the hell is that?”

“I went to Uni with her. I didn’t even know she was in the game until Bianca told me she’d scouted her out. I still think Jiggly would be better.”

“You mean Bianca Castro?” Jan raised one eyebrow.

“Fuck, yes. Now she’s got me doing it,” Brooke sighed, further confusing the two girls.

Suddenly, there was a creak from the office door. Darienne emerged, her posture perfect and her head held high as she walked towards the three girls. Her eyes were cold, so much so that Brooke found herself shivering a little.

“Right, well. Thank you, ladies, for your unwavering support. I wish you all very long and successful careers,” she said cooly, then her face darkened. “And I hope you all get heart failure.”

“Aw Darienne, c’mon!” Vanessa pleaded as the ex-Minister marched towards the lift, a storm cloud of rage. As Darienne stepped into the lift, Yvie began whistling Another One Bites The Dust under her breath and Scarlet started laughing so hard Brooke momentarily thought she was suffocating.

Brooke started laughing too. She had to, she couldn’t help it. This pathetic, et tu, Brute? act was wearing. Jan was right, these were the rules of the damn game. People in the department had come and gone as if Dosac was a massive revolving door and Darienne had never shed a tear for them. Brooke hated the hypocrisy that was so freely batted about in politics. Mourning a departure with a simple “it’s a shame, but they had to go” and then acting like the damn Godfather when your own time came. There was no dignity in it, no class.

“Ding dong, the useless fucking bitch is dead,” Bianca deadpanned, Vanessa relaxing and giggling a little at the slightly less high-intensity Bianca.

“What happens now, then?” Brooke asked her. “Did Jackie take the job?”

“Like a trout on a hook. Barely even had to sell it to the kid. Right, here’s the line!” Bianca suddenly yelled, loud enough that Darienne could probably hear it from the ground floor. “Darienne will be giving a statement outside Number 10 in fifteen minutes. After that, all I want to hear is praise. Praise, praise, praise, Psalm one hundred and fucking one. At 12pm, you guys will have a new Minister. Nina, it’s your job to break her in. Break her fucking spine if necessary.”

Nina nodded apprehensively, unsure of how serious Bianca was.

“I’ll see you all again at half 12. Oh, and Destiny’s Child?” Bianca said, turning suddenly to address Brooke, Vanessa and Jan as she hit the button of the lift. “It won’t be necessary to clear your desks if you don’t plan on leaving.”

As Bianca left Vanessa turned excitedly to Brooke and Jan, grinning madly as she gave them a huge hug, happy at being allowed to stay.

Brooke decided she’d probably have quite literally stabbed Darienne in the back in order to have that smile flashed at her again.

***

“Ladies, I’d like to introduce your new Minister for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship…Jackie Cox!”

Everyone started clapping, but in equal measures scrutinising the tall girl in front of them, standing beside Nina nervously and waving hello. She hadn’t changed all that much since Brooke had last seen her. Her hair was still long, swept back into a neat pearl headband so that her dark waves fell down her back instead of over her shoulders. Her makeup was simple as it always had been: a few swipes of mascara, a dark brown eye pencil to bring out her equally dark eyes, a dusky rose shade on her lips. She was in a matching red suit jacket and tailored skirt, and had red heels on to match. Brooke’s feet were beginning to get sore in her own heels, tired from standing in line with Vanessa and Jan waiting to welcome Jackie. She didn’t have to wait much longer though as Jackie was already shaking Vanessa’s hand, smiling and gushing about how she was so honoured to take up the position and how she was so looking forward to working with her. Brooke stared at her, a little irritated with the dramatics. Jackie then moved on to Jan who was standing in the middle of the line. Brooke watched as they both looked at each other, Jan sort of open-mouthed and Jackie seemingly finding it hard to formulate words.

“You must be Janette. It’s so good to meet you,” she finally said as she shyly held out her hand. Jan took it, shaking it gently.

“It’s good to meet you too. And, uh, Jan’s fine. My friends call me Jan. Not that you’re my friend, of course, you’re my boss. But uh. You can still call me that,” Jan mumbled, her voice quiet and a little nervous and her eyes not once tearing away from Jackie’s.

“Right! Sure. I, um. I hope you’re staying on?” Jackie asked, her voice a little hopeful as she gave Jan a smile, her teeth white and dazzling.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to start working with you! It’ll be, uh. Jan-tastic!” Jan raised her eyebrows a little as she made her joke, Jackie giving a polite laugh of her own. Brooke’s brow furrowed in confusion, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly. What the fuck was this?

“Well, I’m really excited to get started. It was so good meeting you, Jan,” Jackie smiled, giving Jan one last look as she finally tore her eyes away and faced Brooke. Her face immediately changed, taking on an awkward sort of expression as it was clear she had no idea what to say to Brooke. “Brooke Lynn! Hi! What a nice surprise! Gosh, it’s been a while!”

“Yeah, like, eight years. You look good,” Brooke replied curtly, not really instantly warming to Jackie despite her efforts.

“It’ll be nice working together. Just like at uni! I didn’t really believe it when Bianca said you were here!”

“Yeah, well. I’m just climbing the ladder. Where have you been these past few years, anyway?”

“Just the stock exchange. It was always the economic side of our degree I was more interested in, but when Bianca phoned me I thought this was a pretty unmissable opportunity!” Jackie beamed at an unimpressed Brooke. Receiving no reply, she stepped back a little awkwardly. “Anyway, it’s nice that you’re here. I’d better start my briefing, so I’ll speak with you later?”

Brooke nodded wordlessly as Jackie click-clacked away. Say ‘nice’ again, bitch, I dare you.

Vanessa tilted her head as she watched Jackie retreat, her glossy hair swaying.

“Well, I like her. I think she’s gonna be good,” she concluded, clasping her hands together. Brooke narrowed her eyes at Jan, whose gaze was still fixed on Jackie.

“Jan-tastic? What the hell was that?”

Jan gave her a funny look. “What?! You know I love a pun.”

“Not just that. What about your MP thing? You’re seriously going to pass that opportunity up?”

Jan leant back against the glass door of Darienne’s old office, gazing dreamily at nothing in particular. “Um…yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll stay on. I’m still young, I’ve got time for the whole MP endeavour in a few years’ time. No, I think I’ll stick around here for a bit longer. Things might get interesting.”

Still confused at Jan’s sudden change of heart, Brooke shook her head and shrugged. In her opinion Jan was out of her mind, but if that was her decision then that was that. As Vanessa and Jan chatted excitedly Brooke made her way back to her desk, her head kind of in a daze. A lot was happening and she didn’t really know what the next few months were going to be like. An economist in a political position wasn’t new, but she was still reserved about welcoming Jackie with open arms. Still, whatever would happen she was glad that she had Vanessa and Jan to stumble through it all with.

God, she was glad Vanessa was staying.

Looking over to the Comms team she saw that Yvie’s computer was displaying the BBC website, where a live stream of Darienne’s resignation speech was playing. Yvie was sat in her chair, Jaida crouching at her right and Scarlet at her left, Adore peering over Scarlet’s shoulder as Darienne set down her sheets of paper and walked away from the lectern set up outside Downing Street. Yvie threw her hands in the air as if she was praising God.

“The old Minister is dead,” she cried dramatically. “Long live the Minister!”

17 notes · View notes

rueren · 4 years ago

Text

★ 𝓢 𝓣𝓐 𝓡 𝓓 𝓤 𝓢 𝓣★

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 1

Word Count: 6k

CW: swearing, slight angst

𝒦 𝐸 𝐼 𝒯 𝐻

Saturday August 31, 7:07 am

***

He woke up drenched in warm sunlight.

Wait, no. Cold sunlight. Cold sunlight? No, that's not right. Cold, artificial, too bright to be natural light.

The clicking of a light switch rang throughout the room. His eyelids turned orange, the fluorescent light source directly behind them. Click. Click. Click.

He pulled the sheets closer to his chin, mumbling sentences that didn’t even make sense to himself. He’d just ignore the flickering lights - and the person flicking them - until they left Keith alone and let him sleep in peace. He hoped.

Then the sheets started to shift, being pulled slightly off of his leg.

“Ugh, okay, fine, I’m up now.” He grumbled into his pillow, “What do you want from me.”

This was the same thing Shiro had done the whole week. And well basically their whole life. Randomly waking him up at such an ungodly hour by flicking the lights on and off. Kicking his foot just enough to annoy him into consciousness.

The room was occupied by boxes. Towers of them. Maybe not towers. Mounds? There were like, five boxes to unpack. Maybe seven. He’d be done in two hours, three tops. He’d been putting it off for a week, sure. But he’d do it today. Today, but not now. Later. Not at seven o’clock in the fucking morning.

“I don’t want anything. I need you to get up, and unpack. We’ve been here for almost a week and you haven’t touched your boxes, and classes start after tomorrow.” Shiro said, finally pulling the sheets off the mattress.

His body blocked the sun coming from the glass wall across the room, and when he moved away with the sheet, the cold air in the apartment from the AC washed over his legs. Shiro stepped over him, with hair still dripping wet, and sat on the other side of Keith’s mattress on the floor. They’d bought basic bed frames back home, and Krolia said she would ship it to them, but they hadn’t come in yet, so he’d had to make due.

“It’s seven am, Takashi. On a Saturday. I don’t have time for your shit,” Keith grumbled, curling in on himself, “And besides, I have opened them.” A truth. Not a whole truth, but that still counted, right?

“Opening one box to take out like two shirts since we got here doesn’t count Keith.” Shiro reprimanded, and Keith didn’t need to open his eyes to hear the smirk in his voice.

“Okay, I’ll do it. But I’ll do it later, ‘cause its seven fucking am Shiro, not everyone is as excited about the crack of dawn as you.” He finally opened his eyes, glaring at Shiro with still sleep-heavy lids.

Shiro laughed at that, water droplets falling onto Keiths face, “It’s not my fault you like to sleep away your entire existence,” He kicked at Keith’s shin as he got up, with Keith expecting the bed to dip back with the lack of weight but then it doesn't and he remembers he doesn't even have a bed frame so it isn't going to dip, because their stupid IKEA beds hadn’t come in yet. Good for nothing shipping companies, never being on time, “I’m coming back to get you in ten minutes. With a glass of water. Cold.”

“You wouldn’t.” Keith half sat up, propped on his elbow, facing him.

“Guess we’ll find out in ten minutes.”

He closed the door before Keith could get out a retort, and Keith just groaned, flopping in his bed.

Shiro’s laugh behind the door sounds fainter as the receding sound of feet against floorboards crept out of earshot.

He might as well get up now, he supposed. He was fully awake anyway. And Shiro pouring a cup of water on him if he fell asleep again wasn’t as appealing as it sounded.

He stretched out his limbs, and made his way out of bed. An incoherent string of insults fell from his lips as he reached to grab a shirt out of the box. He stared at it for a bit, going back on what Shiro said about only opening the box to grab a shirt. Stupid Shiro for always being right, it’s not even natural. He tossed back the shirt and grabbed a pair of sweatpants instead, because if Shiro gets to wake him up, he doesn't have the power to make him get dressed. Neither is he going to give him the satisfaction of being right about something else. Again.

The floor of his room was freezing under his feet, despite the August weather. It sent shivers up his legs to his shoulders as he walked into the hallway of the new apartment. It was still new to him. He made a move to go to the bathroom, out in the hallway. Then realized that it wasn’t home. Well it was, but not home. He doubled back and went into his bathroom, connected to his room.

He wasn’t used to the layout of the place, not like he was back home. Back home he could walk around with his eyes closed. He wasn’t bothered though. He’d just have to make due.

The bathroom floor was no different. Cold under his feet, if not colder. Keith grumbled under his breath, glancing at the door as Shiro stuck his head in. “You’re like a wet dog, dripping everywhere.” He didn’t wait to hear Shiro’s response, closing the door on his face. Metal on wood was heard outside the door, prosthetic clanging against the door, followed by more receding footsteps.

Keith dragged a hand across his face, staring at his reflection. He’d spent the night tossing and turning, never comfortable, and now his hair paid the price. He knew he should have tied it, but he was too tired to care. Future Keith’s problem, he’d thought. Well, Present Keith was ticked at Past Keith. Also at Present Shiro for waking him up at seven am on a fucking Saturday. All this being-pissed-off was not helping his bed head, and he sighed as he tried to finger comb his hair, not to literally rip the hair out of his follicles.

Hair brushed and mouth not tasting gross anymore, he trudged out to the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t the biggest, but it certainly was bigger than most.

The living room was big, with a glass wall, and a balcony behind a sliding glass door. There was a door in Keiths room that connected to the balcony too. Shiro didn’t even fight Keith when he promptly flung his bag on the floor the second he found out that room had the balcony - he knew Keith would’ve fought him for it. And Shiro didn’t mind that much either. Although they weren’t that high up, it was only the tenth floor, Shiro wasn’t too fond of heights. So a smaller window instead of a glass door reminding him just how high up they were was all he could ask for.

When they first made their way up to the apartment, he thanked whatever celestial beings he could think of for this place to have two bathrooms. He’d shared one with Shiro back home, and saying it was a nightmare was an understatement. Using all the hot water after a run, taking too long to make that tuft of white hair just right. It was too much for Keith to process. It looked like he just left it there when he finished anyways, so why did it always take twenty minutes.

And the space. Their bathroom back home was the smallest bathroom you could imagine. Shower and tub together, the sink crammed right next to it and a toilet across. They’d had to install and uninstall a lock on the door more times than he could remember, for one reason or another.

This one was different. Spacious. A full bath and shower. A long mirror. Tiled shower walls. Gray and white aesthetic, the lights being a little bit too bright, but he didn’t mind. Helps him wake up when he needs to.

The only thing wrong with this bathroom was the floor to ceiling glass wall. Who in their right mind would ever think that that was okay. He thought back to when Krolia had told them about the place

The bedrooms were situated on either side of the bathroom . Keith's first then Shiro’s . And since they were at the end of the hall in the complex, they’d gotten a corner apartment.

They had a pretty decent kitchen as well, with an island and barstool chairs and everything.

Well, there would be barstools around the island, and an actual dishwasher in the spot by the edge of the counter, and an actual stove, if the shipping company got their shit together and sent their furniture. The apartment had been eerily empty with just mattresses in each room, and the living room stacked with boxes instead of actual furniture.

He sat himself on a box, one that was not labeled fragile. His head slumped forward, hair falling down his face, tickling the exposed skin on his back.. He was not looking forward to Shiro telling him to open his boxes again after today, so he’d have to get it done. And besides, the semester started the day after tomorrow. He’d have to do it anyway.

“He got you too?” A voice, rough with sleep, said from behind him. He smirked, as he heard the sleep driven shuffle of slippers on the hardwood floor.

“Yeah. Got you too it seems.” Keith said, finally looking up. Adam looked over at him with sleep heavy eyes.

“Why is he so hellbent on waking up before the sun every single morning?” Adam sighed, grabbing the box of Eggo waffles from the freezer. He held it up and Keith held up two fingers. Adam took out four and put them in the four slot toaster. A gift from Krolia before they left.

“I just know you boys are going to fight over who gets breakfast first. Here, take it.”

“Krolia, we don’t need this. Keep it-”

“Hush. Take it. I will not have you two fighting over who gets to toast a stupid piece of bread every day the whole way through college,” Krolia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Ugh, just thinking about it gives me a headache. Take it, Shiro, or so help me god-”

“Okay, okay, we’ll take the toaster. Thank you.”

He’d slept over the night before to help Shiro unpack. Well, that’s what he’d said he was over for. All three of them knew he was here to be with Shiro. Long distance relationships were always hard, and Shiro and Adam were no exception. They’d been dating since high school, senior year, so that had been - 5 years?

There had been a break up halfway through, though. Keith didn’t even know something could be mutual but also not until this break. They’d both agreed on it, but only for the sake of the other, the whole time complaining to Keith. Adam called him to wallow in his misery, sentences consisting of “Ugh, I miss him so much, Keith.” and “Why would I even say that we should take a break?” and “I’m so stupid. Keith, does he even talk about me?”.

Shiro talked about it less frequently to Keith, but when he did, he did so more insistently. “Keith, I know he calls you. Does he say anything about me? Please, tell me he does. Ugh, why did we even think a break was a good idea?”

Both of them thought the other had wanted it. Wanted time to focus on themselves. Both of them being stupidly wrong. Both of them thinking a break would be best because of stress and long distance and whatever else made them take a break. Neither of them really wanted it, but only did it because they thought the other needed it. And they would do anything for each other.

It was sweet, Keith thought then. Sweet but stupid. Make yourself hurt for what you thought the person you loved wanted. Sweet but stupid.

Adam had flown out to see Shiro, a month and a half into the break, because Shiro had drunk called him. That was enough to break him. He booked a flight to LA, from Chicago, and only told Keith that he was in the city, once he landed. Krolia had driven down to pick him from the airport. Keith was in charge of keeping Shiro preoccupied until Adam got to the house.

Adam came into the house the moment Shiro started complaining about the break again. And when Adam had heard Shiro say he hated the break, never wanted it to begin with, only agreed to it because Adam wanted it, he stepped out from where he stood in the foreir.

“I never wanted it, you dipshit.” Adam said, and Shiro froze in place. He turned around slowly, and Keith found himself smiling, watching it unfold in front of him. Shiros face falling, then he smiled, the brightest he’d ever seen Shiro smile.

Then he started tearing up. That’s when Adam moved across the living room. Turned to Shiro, strides across the floor purposeful, and filled with love and emotion, as if that were even possible. Steps filled with the distance between them and the longing they both had for each other and the love they had for each other that was projected in the way they looked at each other.

“I missed you.” Shiro’s voice cracked.

“I missed you too,” Adam said, his hands coming around Shiro’s wrists, “ God, I missed you. So much.”

And when he said that, Shiro broke. They both broke, and hugged and cried and laughed and fell to their knees with their heads pressed to the others shoulder and Keith felt tight in the chest as Krolia placed a hand on his shoulder, a small smile gracing her face as well. And they both left, feeling like they were invading a private moment.

“Well, he’s your boyfriend, and he never did that before you,” Keith smirked, “So I say it’s your own fault.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I figured out how much of a blessing sleep was when you're a college student.” He grumbled before downing the glass of water he poured for himself.

He looked worse than Keith, with his hair - which had grown last since Keith had seen him, another thing that made Keith remember he was away from the people he was close to for far too long - was disheveled, flat against one side from sleep. He hadn’t even put his glasses on and the bags under his eyes were more visible. His shirt, a soft dark gray with NASA across the front in a fading font, from how old it was, a few sizes too big, considering it was Shiro’s. Pajamas bottoms too long for his legs, scrunched up against his Bart Simpson slipper, the red and blue and black stripes making the yellow of Bart’s face way too bright.

Adam yawned as he started a pot of coffee. As tired as Adam looked, it reminded Keith of where he was. With the people he cared about. Not talking to them through a screen that pixelated their faces because of sketchy college dorm WIFI. He had seen Pidge and Matt the first day they got into Chicago, and he’d felt better. Hugged them and forced himself not to tear up, because they would never let him hear the end of it. He was happy. For the first time in a long while.

“Good, you’re both up.” Shiro’s voice entered the kitchen. They both looked over at him, and gaped at how awake he looked.

Well, Keith did. Adam was probably gaping for different reasons, that Keith did not want to think about his brother in.

He had on a tank top - way too tight, for no reason, other than that his boyfriend was here - dark gray sweatpants, and an honest to god neon pink and black striped headband in his hair, a stark contrast to the white bangs that it held from his face.

“No thanks to you,” Keith grumbled. The toaster popped up and Keith reluctantly stomped over to it, throwing them on a plate and taking the syrup Adam handed to him absentmindedly, drenching his waffles.

Shiro sat on the floor - because they had no furniture - cross legged, against the box Keith was sitting on before. “How do you guys eat that stuff? It's just sugar.”

“Some of us like sugar, Shiro,” Adam quipped, hopping up on the island to sit and wait for his coffee, “Just like how some of us actually enjoy letting the sun get up before we do.”

Shiro laughed, “I went out for a run. I let you guys sleep for another 2 hours after I got up.”

“How did you guys even come from the same house?’ Adam directed at Keith, around a piece of waffle, as he stuffed a piece of his own waffle into his mouth.

“How are you guys even dating? '' He countered, voice monotone, but his chest tightened slightly in happiness. He liked how happy Shiro got around Adam. He deserved to be happy after everything that’s happened to them.

Not that he’d say that aloud. He’d never hear the end of it.

“He’s lucky he’s cute,” Adam said, grabbing 3 mugs from the cupboard, pouring their coffee, and Shiro’s cheeks went pink. Keith made a show of visibly gagging, and Adam flipped him off.

It still amazed Keith, how even after dating for so long, his brother still got flustered over the smallest of compliments.

“Yeah, whatever. Go sleep the rest of your youth away. I don’t care.” Shiro teased, and Adam handed him his mug of coffee. He kissed Shiro’s head, and Shiro’s face went redder as he smiled.

They all sat around for a bit, Adam beside Shiro on the floor and Keith on the island, eating waffles drinking coffee, and talking about school starting and Adam’s new job, and Shiro’s new classes, as well as Keith starting classes as well.

Keith missed this. The familiarity of it all. He missed it.

“‘Kay, as much as I love talking with you both about school at seven in the morning on Saturday, I need to take a shower.” Adam got up from the floor, cracking his back, “When is your furniture supposed to come in?”

“It was supposed to come in two days ago. They said it’d be another like, 3 days at most.” Shiro said, getting up too, and putting both their mugs in the sink.

“Okay, yeah. Well, off to shower I guess.” And he left down the hall. Shiro and Keith talked a bit more while he showered, about Krolia saying she was going to visit in a few weeks, about Matt and his new girlfriend, and when their schedules had open spots at the same time.

“Alright. I need to go get some WIFI and whatever,” Keith said, dropping his plate in the sink, as Adam turned off the shower, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“You have to finish unpacking today,” Shiro said, as he walked off to his room, to change.

“Yeah, I’ve got the rest of the day. It’ll be unpacked don’t worry.”

“Alright,” Shiro said, as Keith closed the door to his bedroom. Keith chuckled at Shiro’s voice muffled behind the door as he said, “How do I always get stuck on dish duty?”

He changed into a black t-shirt and ripped black jeans, although half of the cuts he’d done himself. Rummaging around in the one box he’d opened when they first got here, he fished out a blue shirt, and groaned, tossing it over onto the mattress . The next thing he grabbed was a flannel. Basic, but it would make do. Red and black plaid around his waist, he grabbed his olive green messenger bag, covered in pins and patchwork and doodles. His laptop and charger were stuffed inside, as well as his sketchbook and pencils. Never left anywhere without it.

Phone in hand, he left his room, and walked to the front door. He passed Adam walking out of the bathroom, with his head wrapped in a towel and one around his waist, glasses slightly fogged from the steam.

“Is that even necessary? You don’t even have that much hair to dry?” Keith questioned, grabbing an apple from the fridge.

“Don’t hate my routine when you don’t care about your own hair, kiddo,” Adam said, over dramatically ruffling Keith’s hair. He swatted his hand away, walking out the door, with Shiro and Adam laughing behind him. He called over his shoulder, “Call me if you need me to pick anything up.”

“Yeah, sure.” Shiro said, and Keith grabbed his red leather jacket and stuffed his feet into his black and red checkered vans.

“Be careful,” Shiro called and Keith locked the front door.

And he left the apartment. With his bike helmet under his arm, he rode the elevator down. He passed the front lobby. The swivel doors were occupied by someone holding a bunch of boxes, so he took the side door.

He fiddled with his keys, looking for the one to his bike lock. He didn’t notice the person walking towards him, boxes covering his face. Not until they crashed into each other.

“Oh my god, shit. Shit, shit, no. No, oh my god,” The strangers rambled, grasping at the boxes that started teetering to the side, dangerously close to falling over. Keith threw his hands out to stabilize them, his hand coming over the other guy's hand.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t see you.” He said to Keith. He poked his head around the boxes, and smiled at Keith.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Keith said, taking his hands off the boxes after making sure they weren’t gonna fall, and smiled slightly, “Sorry about bumping into you. Wasn’t watching where I was going either.”

“No worries. Thanks for not letting me drop these,” He smiled and moved out of the way for Keith to get through. He waved and the boy stuck out two fingers as a salute, and went into the building, talking to the guy who went in through the swivel doors.

Keith got his keys out and unlocked his bike chain from the back of the complex. He stuffed his messenger bag in the compartment in his motorcycle, and texted Pidge to say he was leaving to go to the coffee shop they’d agreed to meet up at the night before.

Keef

i’ll be there in like, 20 minutes

u better be up

and there

Pidge(on)

don’t tell me ur awake

a l r e a d y

dude its 8 am

im nOT leaving my bed this early

good bye sir

Keef

ill give you like 10 minutes after i get there

then im leaving

its not even my fault

u knooo shiro has like sum competition with the sun to see who can get up earlier

Pidge(on)

LMFAOOO

hes prolly winning too

uuuuuuugh fine

20*

Keef

whatever

just be there

and pidge i swear to god

if its some basic bitch place with watered down shit im gonna kill u

Pidge(on)

ur lack of faith in me is wounding

u wont be mad trust me

He pocketed his phone, sighing and zipped the pocket of the leather jacket he wore. Extra precautions. He’d broken his last phone that way. His bank account was not happy about it. He pulled his hair out of his face and tied it in a low ponytail, tugging his helmet on. The bike revved, and the low rumble of the engine was enough to set him into a familiar rhythm. Kick up the stand, put his leather gloves on, twist the handle bars, speed out the parking lot.

The wind got stuck in his jacket, and sent a welcomed breeze up his shirt. It helped his mind relax, the familiar feeling of his jacket wiping behind him as the wind rushed through it. He loved the feeling. The familiarity. It was always something he could rely on. Something to ground him, when everything got too much for him. He’d grab his helmet, and just drive. Back in Texas, he’d drive for hours down the dusty trains behind his parents house. Even though he hadn’t had a motorcycle then, and he was a child, he’d ride his bicycle for hours and hours in their backyard until his mom would call him in for dinner.

Then when his dad died from a firefighter accident when he was 10. He ran into a building, when everyone had told him not to go. He hadn’t listened. He was a Kogane, never backing down from a challenge. His mom packed them up and left right after the funeral. She said it was to get a new start, make a life for them somewhere else. So Texas would always be in their memories, but only the good ones.

Even then, he knew she just wanted to escape. Escape from the freshest memories, not the countless others where his father was present.

So they packed up, and moved. To LA. It had been impulsive. She’d applied for a position at the art gallery in the city, never really thinking she’d get called back. When she did, he remembered her being over the moon.

He’d gotten there, and always rode his bike around the neighborhood. To and from school. To the corner store. To hockey practice. That had been hard, for an 11 year old to go to practice with all his equipment on his back, and keep control of a bike. Krolia drove him after he tried once.

And while they were there, she met her future husband. They hadn’t gotten along with each other at first. Both insanely competitive, but never failing to compliment the other on their pieces. Friendly competition. They started hanging out, they started dating, they had their children meet at Bring Your Kid To Work Day. Shiro had taken a liking to Keith, and the two found out they were going to the same school. Even when they weren’t technically step siblings yet, he had always looked up to Shiro, from the second they met. So when, 4 years later, their parents got married, Keith was ecstatic. He was going to have a family again.

He still rode his bike, but not to escape anything. Because he liked his life now. Enjoyed waking up, having breakfast with his mom and her fiancé, and fighting over who got to use the bathroom first with his step-bro to be.

Everything was great. The wedding was sickeningly sweet. His mom looked beautiful in her dress. Shiro’s dad cried. Shiro teared up, his friend Matt sat beside him, also beaming with happiness. Matt’s younger sister, Katie, who insisted on being called Pidge - “What kind of name is Pidge?” 11 year old Keith had asked the 8 year old Pidge. “It’s my name. Matt gave it to me. Better than a boring name like Keef,” She said, a tooth missing from the corner of her mouth” - sat beside Keith, smiling up at them, glasses way too big for her face.

Everything was great. They were a family. Went on vacations. Shiro was the best big brother he could’ve asked for, and Shiro’s dad was really nice to him, and although he wasn’t like his own dad, Keith accepted him really quickly.

Everything was fine, until 3 years ago.

Keith shook his head. He didn’t want to go back there. It was a new beginning, Shiro had said on the way up to Chicago. A fresh start. Away from all the messiness of their past. Not that they were trying to escape when the opportunity arose, but they certainly did not turn it down.

He arrived at the coffee shop ten minutes after texting Pidge. He parked the bike across the street from the café, killing the engine. He stepped off the bike, and took his helmet off, shaking out his hair from the loose ponytail it was in. Grabbing his bag from the compartment in his motorcycle, he stared up at the sign for the café

When Pidge had told him to go to the Lion’s Café, saying it was the “the best coffee shop near campus”, what he was met with certainly wasn’t at all how he’d pictured it. Glass walls outlined the café, and even with the glare from the sun, he could see the many potted plants hanging from the ceiling against the glass. The sign was bold, each letter looping and connecting with another, in a gold cursive font. A blue coffee cup with gold swirls of steam was put in place of the tittle for the letter “i”.

Inside was no less intriguing. The counter was old, rustic, worn. Full of character. A glass display case for the pastries was tall, chest height, gold accents around the rims. Chalk boards hung over the wall behind the counter, the menu in swirly, colorful, cursive writing. Doodle’s of coffee cups and pastries adorned the corners of the boards.

The walls on either side were brick, colors ranging in warm tones, browns, dark burgundy, black, beige, with white cement between each block. Scattered art work lined the walls, white floating shelves a sharp contrast, each adorned in small potted plants. On the wall opposite from the front door, there was a large, floor-to-ceiling length mirror. The tables were made to look like the ring of a tree, with metallic seats on either side of them.

What really stood out to him was the room and wall on the far end of the café. Through the arch way, hung a curtain of beads. Inside, two couches with a mismatch of throw pillows sat on each side of the small room at the end of the café. There were a few tables behind the couches, still the same design as the seating area in the front. But the walls, the wall’s of the back room were what caught his attention.

The walls of the room were covered in books. Head to toe. All books, crammed into the shelves, books piled into the corners of the room, books piled on the corner tables on either side of either couch. He ran his hands along the books on the shelf. So many different books. Fiction, non-fiction, old, new, big, small, paperback, hardcover. There were so many. He looked up at the lights on the ceiling- Faerie lights hung along the ceiling, in a mismatch pattern.

It looked like something straight out of a movie. Or a book, whatever. Definitely something fictional. It didn’t look real.

And it was this close to campus?

Keith knew exactly where he would be hanging out between classes now.

He sat down on the couch, and opened his laptop, connecting to the cafe’s WIFI. He’d been there for a little over another the minutes when Pidge came through the door.

Keith stifled a laugh, a grin plastering against his face. Pidge looked...the same. The same as always. Tired, bags under her eyes. She had on her favorite green pullover, with an awkward collar that sat somewhere on the line between crew neck and turtleneck - and honestly, it was 80 degrees, he didn’t understand how she wore long sleeves all the time and hadn’t passed out from heat stroke yet. She had on cargo pants, probably Matt’s, probably something she grabbed from the laundry. Her backpack hung off of one shoulder, as she ordered something from the cash.

“Hey,” He said, when she sat down. More like collapsed, into the spot opposite from him on the couch.

“Why did you make me come here so early?” She groaned, arm over her eyes, head thrown against the back of the couch.

“Blame Shiro,” He grumbled, and turned back to his computer, tabs upon tabs of job applications open.

Pidge sat up more, turning over to face him, grinning, while taking her laptop out of her bag, “So, how’re you liking the Lion?”

“It’s cool. Not what I expected,” Keith said, not taking his eyes off his screen. It was more than cool, way better than cool. It was probably going to be his new favorite place, but he’d never let Pidge know that.

“Oh come on. It’s great. And I literally work here dude, you have to give it some credit,” She said, starting up the computer.

Keith turned his head, “You work here? You said you worked at a -”

“At a coffee shop? Yeah, this one,” She grinned.

“It’s cool. Aesthetic. Might draw it or something.”

“Must be pretty great for Keith Kogane to draw it, huh.”

He smiled softly, “Must be.”

And they sat in silence for a while, with Keith’s eyes scanning for applications, and sending resume’s and sending emails to Kijiji ad’s, and Pidge’s steady typing filling the air. Her coffee came a few minutes after - worker came over and passed it to her, and Pidge later told him her name was Ezor - and the silence washed over them again.

It was nice. He missed this. The comfortable silence they could get into, enjoying each others presence. It was familiar, and he reveled in it, since he didn’t get too much familiarity in his life. And he knew she understood how he valued their friendship so much. Even if he didn’t express it in so many words. She helped him, with grounding him, with being there for him, for pushing him out of his comfort zone.

Well, maybe he spoke too soon.

“Dude, there’s this party tonight. Some ex-frat boy or something. His parties are known campus wide, according to Matt. Legendary stories,” Pidge said, as they were packing up to go back to go back to Keith’s place. He’d roped her into helping him unpack his last few boxes.

“Keith, I am not unpacking your boxes for you. Haven’t you been here for like a whole week? Why haven’t you done it yet?”

“Didn’t it take you like, a month to finish unpacking your stuff when you moved here?” Keith countered, eyebrow raised, “I distinctly remember Colleen yelling at you through over Skype to unpack.”

“I’m like, 5’2. I can’t be expected to unpack everything so quick, when I can’t even reach the top shelf.”

“Whatever. I’ll buy you McDonalds if you come over.”

“I am offended that you think I will cave that easily.”

“And a tub of cookie dough.”

“Fine.”

“Okay, that’s cool. I guess,” He said, looking skeptically at her grin that would’ve put the Cheshire cat to shame, “Why are you telling me this?”

“‘Cause you’re coming.” She said. “And before you even say no, Shiro already knows. And he said that you should go.”

“Shiro wants me to unpack my boxes. Not go to a party.” He said exasperated. He held the door open for her to pass, and they made their way to Keith’s motorcycle.

“Pidge no I swear this is really not my scene.”

“You’re the worst liar. I can not even count off how many times you snuck out to go to parties back home,” She glared, tightening the straps of the backpack, so it wouldn’t fall off while they drove. “And how many stories you’ve told me over facetime.”

“Okay, fine. But I don’t know. I think I’m just gonna watch stuff. Not feeling up to it.”

“You will be. Don’t worry kiddo -”

“I’m literally 2 years older than you, but go off.”

“-We’re gonna unpack your stuff and make it all sparkly and pretty and then you’re gonna get ready to kill all the boys at the party,” She said, her grin falling from her face as he shoved the helmet into her arms, “Do I have to wear this? It probably has like lice or something.”

“Do you want to bash your head in if you fall off?”

“You would never let me fall off,” She smirked, reluctantly putting the helmet on, “You’re too much of a hero.”

Keith swung his leg over the bike, and kicked up the kick stand. He started the motorcycle, and Pidge’s arms tightened around his waist.

“Debatable.” He said over the roar of the engine.

***

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