#(possibly along with Mike realising he doesn’t like girls at all) and end it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

organic-guacamole · 3 years ago

Text

showtime

episode 211 let's go

ok first of all, this is the second to last episode guys... I don't even wanna think about how much pain I'll be in after next week's episode

mr mazzara doing the recap-

this is so weird to me and I don't know why

WHY DIDN'T YALL JUST ASK BENJAMIN FOR HELP, THATS LITERALLY HIS THING

is Nini giving out the cards a callback to season 1 when Natalie Bagley said that Nini gave her a card or something on opening night of another musical?

STEPHY AS THE ENCHANTRESS OMG YES

Ricky in the crown gives me Harry styles in that photoshoot vibes

he's so pretty.

ok but why did we never see Ricky and Ashlyn interact before? it's been like 5 seconds and I already love how they bounce off each other and it's just so natural

OH THEY REALLY DON'T HAVE ANY UNDERSTUDIES-

well that explains a lot...

so Ricky fell on top of Ashlyn and all that broke for both of them was their wrist-

insert Jake Peralta *coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool no doubt no doubt no doubt*

of course howie was amazing as the beast, were we expecting anything less??

Ricky is so beautiful and I will not shut up about it....

let me enjoy this before the makeup crew slaps mud on his face.

Nini and Ricky talking to eachother? in a civil manner? wasn't she avoiding him just in the last episode? hm ok

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH THEY CANT EXPRESS THEIR FEELINGS JUST LIKE ME HAHAHAHAHA THIS IS HILARIOUS, WHATS NEXT? THEY CUT EVERYONE OFF CUZ THEY CANT HANDLE EMOTIONS? ...ha

yes Kaden and Rico, my favourite east high boys 🥰

I mean....where's EJ?

THERE HE IS

EJ AND GINA IN THE BACKGROUND... doing something idek

KOURTNEY'S MOM IS BACK YAY

Howie is a shining star, ofc ofc

the smallest fOrk

can't wait to see the fork burst into song about how she deserves more than to be used to eat salad😌

the duster and the bluster.... ok😃

hi Gina!

hi- oh wow I didn't know Robbie Rotten was in this show!!!!!

the portwell look.

that my friends, is a married couple's look✋

GOSH EJ WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU

aww Gina's so excited for this

D word?

Die?

Delicious?

Dom Toretto?

"good, clean fun all alone with someone I dig...a lot"

sir that does not sound very clean to me

SEBLOS

Seb looks so cute standing there next to pope Carlos

DID THEYEY REALLY LIGHT ANTOINE ON FIRE-

I NEED TO SEE THAT

Seb's reading Carlos better than big red read the script in episode 102, this is great development after the "fight"

Kourtney really just made the best outfit for herself and let the rest of them suffer

the way Gina immediately goes to hold on to EJ after the announcement

"tonight we're going to put the U in UTAH"

...

"hey where are you from?"

"TAH"

SEB'S SINGULAR CLAP KILLED ME-

he's officially salt lake city's resident thanos

just wity clapping because for some reason I have a feeling he doesn't know how to snap his fingers...don't ask why

Ms Jenn do you mind encouraging your leads before the show? idk just an idea

pepto bismol product placement smhsmh

those flowers are bigger that big red himself-

*bops along to the opening theme*

that whistle at the end slaps everytime

WHY IS THE AUDIENCE SO MASSIVE

I guess they're all here to see Ms Jenn go on as a fork after Nini decides to *go her own way*

wow i am so funny

so they couldn't do many group scenes cuz of covid, but this 300 person crowd is cool? nice

OO THE VIOLIN GIRL FROM EPISODE 6 IS IN THE ORCHESTRA

HOWIEEEEEE

"Mr Caswell", he said, in the loudest voice possible while backstage at a show that's about to start.

Mazzara what are you trying to pull-

I usually like Benjamin but I don't like his tone

"iS yOuR wHoLe FaMiLy HeRe?" LIKE YOU DON'T ALREADY KNOW THATS A SOFT SPOT FOR EJ

"we've had some good conversations these past few weeks"

right so what's going to happen after you graduate?

what does he think of you not going to Duke?

what did he say about you giving the sweatshirt that's been in the family for 3 generations to a girl you're not even dating?

good old Mr. M

therapist Mr. Mazzara, they all need it.

start with Ricky though.

"Michael Bowen"

dude why did you shave, now you look less like "hot lumberjack" and more "creep at the gas station"

OH-

does she not like Mike anymore?

why does it sound like jennzzara started dating and now they just sit back and talk smack about everyone in their freetime

break the fourth wall-

uhhhh im scared

why am I scared

he's scary

hehe flowers for Ricky, obviously for Ricky, ObViOuSLY

oh boy poor Michael

this man is in love, rip

why does Ms Jenn always look at people with her eyes open so wide

LILYYYY

I'm only excited because I really like the idea of lily and Ricky being friends, nothing more.

ha this guy's got jokes

a MOAT AROUND THE SCHOOL

wheeze

also he's very pretty.

"the wolves and very talented humans"

how dare he forget to mention the very talented wolves and normal humans, smh erasure

"being nice, what a concept" ted talk by Lily who still doesn't have a last name

did she just say lol out loud

same with the hug emoji last episode-

go touch some grass babes

the way he didn't say no, but said he didn't know how the east high kids would react-

not saying he does want to date her but that's an interesting thing to think about, also another thing to write an essay analysis on just to leave it in my drafts for a few months

awww lily genuinely trying to help him

sorry guys, I've been taken by the Lily charm (didn't know it existed until now but oh well)

REMEMBER WHEN I SAID I'LL NEVER SHIP PORTWELL?

just look at me now

the Lily wink I can't she's so cute-

HELP ME I'M BEING HELD HOSTAGE BY LIL-

David Attenborough?

oh nvm it's Benjamin narrating the show in a really weird British accent for some reason.

STEPHY GOT MORE LINES YAY GOOD FOR HER

also is this to show that Nini doesn't care about being the star of the show anymore? the way she's supporting everyone else even though she's a fork?

I would pay for a special of the full musical ngl

OOO THE TRANSFORMATION WAS SMOOTH

shockingly

yo where did the makeup come from

man I wish I was a theatre kid

THIS IS STEPHY'S EPISODE NOW IDC✋

my girl is starring

"needs an X-factor"

Simon Cowbell creeps in

"it's a yes from me"

and them boom, he takes Nini and mistreats her horribly and then she comes back to theatre after deciding music isn't for her👍

"I thought she just hog-tied him?"

don't ask sebby, it's better if you don't know.

imagine they spotlight the wrong person and this dude is just some random person that likes writing down stuff during shows.

Ms Jenn just let them do what they rehearsed (at some point we never saw) or else this is gonna end horribly wrong

"help"

same Carlos, same

I love how seb is just his translator rn

I thought he said "great displeasure" instead of "greatest pleasure"....help?

big red coming out from throwing up to see his girlfriend star is the cutest thing in this show.

Ash and Gina dancing is so fun

I'm imagining them practicing at night at their home, watching the movie for the 100th time and making sure their one dance together is perfect

KOURTNEY YES

HOWIE IS IN LOVE AHHHH

I LOVE HOWIE SO MUCH

SEBBY

THIS SCENE HAS SO MUCH GOING ON I CAN'T KEEP UP

THIS IS SO GOOD

HOW???

no because I'm actually crying

I'm dead serious.

we need this musical released as a special

big red is so proud and I love to see it

Natalie: "if you do not by at least 20 dollars in concessions, you do not support art"

rando in the audience: "but I pay for ad free Spotify"

Mr Mazzara clapping in the distance

Gigi, the guy you like is talking to you, complimenting you and hyping you up

YOU LUCKY LITTLE FEATHER DUSTER

aw EJ teasing her about the chocolates in a way that doesn't make her feel bad? take notes Richard

JORDAN FISHER

there is no rest of the show idc Jordan is it for me

THE WIG CAP ON RICKY OMG

they look like they're high and having "deep" conversations on the floor

THE MEAN GIRL WITH THE EYES-

@sunshine-julie-molina YOU HEAR THAT

Natalie really just be coming for them all

Howie what is happening rn

I'm scared

"did you enjoy it"

"very much"

dude wants a kiss so bad

ASHLYN OMG

NO DON'T DO IT BECAUSE OF LILY, PUT YOUR OWN TWIST ON IT

I want a Jordan autograph please

just keep swim- oh pushing...

Gina is literally a giant next to him and I live for it

am I about to cry for the 3rd time in this episode?

yes.

Ricky's leg kicks under the table makes me so happy aw

the portwell glances will kill me.

ah yes, mashed potato snow

Mr. M.... I'm not a theatre kid but even I know you can't have your phone on backstage.

Howie please just do it

CHIP'S BIG LINE I CANT

I LITERALLY HAD TO PAUSE IT AMD SCREAM INTO MY MASK FOR A SOLID 2 MINUTES (I'm not at home rn) HES SO CUTE

oh ok bye Jordan

oo tea

NOT HIM BEING STARSTRUCK BECAUSE HE'S MEETING HIS FUTURE BROTHER IN LAW-

"we're all just glad Gigi has a big brother figure in her life"

excuse me for a few thousand hours while I laugh hysterically

THE CAMERA ZOOM ON EJS FACE AND EVERYTHING-

STOP EJ LOOKS LIKE HE'S GONNA CRY BUT I CAN'T TAKE HIM SERIOUSLY WITH THE STAGE MAKE-UP

someone else said this already but I think it's hilarious that they had to bring in 2 guest characters to create some portwell angst

omg this really is Cici's episode, found family is their thing

elevator music lol

I'm gonna bet that big red took the harness for his surprise for Ashlyn without realising what it was

did Ms. Jenn just....tell her most mentally unstable student....to commit suicide....on a disney show...was that....I'm very....well....what the actual-

oh and there she goes running off instead of trying to make it right

oh wow Nini's the hero, she's gonna save the show 🤩

😐

the judge is doing a sudoku

honestly if I went to the hsm show as well, I'd come prepared for this one too

Lily why are you looking like that-

I WAS JUST STARTING TO LIKE YOU DON'T MESS THIS UP

wow ok, there goes that.

omg

what if Howie was acting weird because he knew what Lily did and wanted to tell Kourtbut Lily threatened him so he was scared to-

anyways see y'all clowns next week when we all simultaneously lose all motivation for the week without Fridays to look forward to.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts s2 #hsmtmts season 2 #hsmtmts spoilers #ej caswell #gina porter #ricky bowen #nini salazar roberts #seb mathew smith #carlos rodriguez #big red #ashlyn caswell #kourtney greene #howie my pizza king #lily hsmtmts

27 notes · View notes

hange-zone · 4 years ago

Text

in another life levi would have told you about the scars on his hands, his missing phalanges and fingers, or why even one of his eyes was milky-white and unseeing.

but for now he wipes the children’s desks and sweeps the classrooms after them and listens to their laughter at the end of long days. he has no claim to titles now, no humanity’s strongest, no wings upon his back - on the farm he’s known affectionately by his first name and he wore simple, unassuming clothes. sometimes an ascot, but only if the occasion called for it. otherwise it got in the way: he’d unfortunately discovered first-hand that the children would pull on it with their grubby fingers and he didn’t live this long just to be garrotted by an enthusiastic baby. he didn’t care much for younger ones, who were always sticky and crying, but once they reached around six and learnt some semblance of personal hygiene and communicated in semi-intelligible sentences they were tolerable, even good company.

they remind them of people he’s known before - at night the sounds of the creaky building and its inhabitants echoed with what could almost be the comfortable noise of the corps. if he closed his eyes it was like being back in that house at the end of the walls so many years ago, the little hideout they could never get clean. at meal times the jostling feels like being at the corps’ mess hall again, where he’d sat at the officer’s table, watching half-disgusted but strangely awed at how the braus child inhaled her food, watching the childish rivalry between the two boys, now long gone. when one girl walked in wearing a red scarf his breath had hitched.

the days pass without incident and he’s beginning to enjoy the routine he’s built for himself: up at the crack of dawn, a quick wash before he starts preparing the breakfast, a longer wash after the children have eaten and streamed out of the dining hall to their classes, after he’d pushed in the chairs and arranged the tables and packed up the leftovers for later. on alternate days he takes the older ones out for a run, right around the old noblemens’ lands where the freshly planted grass was soft and dewy under their feet. as they leap over brooks and crunch through forested paths he tells them to keep their form straight and heads up, to not stop running— though it was okay if they slowed down, just don’t stop —and a certain sternness returns in those moments. it’s possible to why he might be intimidating despite his statue. and how exacting he is, when it comes to it.

when the children ask him if he’s married he merely shows them his missing ring finger. how would i wear a ring? he asks, as they cling onto his stubby hands and look up with him with questioning eyes. he lets them climb over him, pulls them onto his shoulders. he thinks about a lifetime ago: sun hot on his cheeks, the humid air solemn and heavy, tiles crunching under his feet as he takes slow, leaden, steps away from his commander. dedicating his heart.

but i’ve been in love, he says to himself, but they’ve already lost interest, fiddling with their toys and gone off from the table.

oi, he says, trying to be stern. clear your plates. don’t you remember what we’ve taught you?

when the older ones — as old as they were then, he supposes — come to him, sulky and in need of a good talking to, he sits them down in his office and offers them tea. one time a particularly agitated boy had thrown it down, shattering the cup, and he feels himself ready some blunt words. but he stops himself. he doesn’t say anything about the time he kicked a kid’s face open to save him - he was barely older than the boy sat before him now. he said then that he would never be controlled. sometimes he thinks he was right then. maybe he should have seen it coming all along.

but instead he looks at him and says: i understand if you’ve got to be angry. but this is for your sake. you have to trust that we’re gonna protect you.

the seething anger that he’s met with is still as familiar and inscrutable all at once, but he thinks now maybe he should have seen the signs. it wasn’t good to let it fester - not till the boy was old enough to be carried away with his own notions of what to do. but then again, he could see why. maybe everything had lead them to this point all along.

he sometimes listens in to classes. what he realises now was that hange was primarily a biologist, with her babbling about the body and its systems and her passion for the natural world. she might have dabbled in physics - it took some precision engineering to devise thunder spears, but above all what he remembers was her love for science and discovery. he sees that in them now, the curiosity and eagerness to learn, and it makes him smile, even if he does it quietly when no one is looking. sometimes he has to resist the urge to ruffle their hair.

he still hates the rain. when the children pull at his hands and ask him to splash in puddles with them he always resists. he tells them that the rain makes him annoyed because it gets everything wet and slimy and the children always come back muddy, but historia catches his eye and gives a knowing look. in actuality the rain makes him sad. it had been raining that day too, when he’d slipped in and out of consciousness in hange’s arms - when he’d almost grasped erwin again - but in the end it wasn’t time yet, and now he was here. everyone would have to wait a bit more.

sometimes he wishes, amid chopping up of vegetables for stew and wrangling the little ones into bed, that he could share this domesticity with someone — anyone — look, how easy it could have been. look at how these small actions add up to a life.

standing by the sink with suds up to his elbows, he thinks that maybe in the end it wasn’t about staving off foreign threats - no, it was this: soft touches against shoulders, barely hidden smiles, letting them pull at him and picking them up for hugs, despite how he really didn’t appreciate all the slobber that they produced when they got sleepy. when he finally got them to settle, their heads lolled against his neck, hair tickling his face, and they were warm and precious, every single one.

and in moments where he shuts the door to their bedrooms he gets the same swell in his chest, the same knowing what to do. the dishes clink as he rinses them off and sets them on the rack. there’s more work to be done, there always is, but today he busies himself with the mundane: taking the youngest ones, still learning to walk, out to the fields. he watches them stumble about the grass, sunlight crowning them in halos.

one day, some of them - the usual trio who were always bothering him, not that he minded too much - come to him. levi, they say. levi, tell us about you.

nosy brats, he says, deadpan, but he tells them about his trio, him, isabel and farlan. about the people from a lifetime ago: about erwin, about hange, about mike and nanaba and petra and his first squad. and of course, about his last: sasha and jean and connie, armin and mikasa and eren.

#i must admit i am a bit disenchanted w the main plot & only care about it in broad brushstrokes #and i only read the wiki and watch the show so i've actually no idea about this whole #orphanage thing but i saw somewhere levi helped out with it and i was a bit ?? a first #but i understand a bit more now #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi #also i do read the comments & thank u everyone who likes/reblogs etc i am sincerely so grateful #please come chat w me in the tags / ask etc bc this is a sideblog & ive no idea how tumblr messaging works #also im not entirely happy w this! might sneakily revise....some of it is too on the nose D:

41 notes · View notes

pluviophile-bookworm · 3 years ago

Text

High School Musical: The Musical: The Series: The Rewatch pt. 4

I really need a pick-me-up after 2x11, and I feel like 1x7 might be what I'm looking for, so here I am again with another HSMTMTS rewatch. I'm genuinely so excited for both of these episodes, so without further ado, let's jump right into

1x6: She stands for... lies, pressure and very inappropriate suggestions (coming here after 2x11 might have been a mistake, actually)

I honestly don't get why Nini's reaction to seeing Ricky in full Troy costume was so big — he actually looked pretty ok to me. Sure, the wig is a bit too much, but so what, it's cute.

Ahhh my boy Reddy is so adorable in that talking head... 'click!' Gosh, I love seeing him so cheerful! Guess he's embracing his role as part of the crew. As he should.

'I'm home'. Yes, Sebby, and you look so good, too! Gosh, I love this scene so much. I can't believe I'd forgotten about it.

Gina looks beautiful, though — I mean, she looks beautiful in anything, but I really like the Taylor look on her.

Ok, I fully understand everyone's frustration about this picture — it's genuinely so hard to get a good picture of someone jumping up in the air, and I can only imagine what it would be like with six people. A bunch of my classmates tried to do something like that ages ago and, needless to say, it didn't go very well. No good pictures were taken that day.

Ah, Portwell: the early days. Ok, but wanting something and feeling like you have to get it is far from the same thing, EJ. Honestly, these two in their early days as accomplices... this is not the first time they've been like 'X is the same thing as Y' when it's obviously not. I mean, of course, that time they became accomplices because 'we want the same thing' — which, at that point, they didn't.

Ok, but they were in such unison with that 'Not now!'... couple goals! You know, even before either of them had considered the possibility of them being a couple for real.

That's a lot of pressure that Miss Jenn is putting on dear Carlito over there. I mean, he's one of the youngest at the drama club and he has to essentially do her job for her, all while she's not even sure if she'll be able to return to her job. I just... keep reminding myself that these kids are closer in age to my little brother than they are to me (except for EJ, who is precisely in the middle), and then the pressure they're under takes on completely new proportions in my mind. None of them should have to deal with all of this. And no amount of 'trust the process' is making it better.

'Should I just live vicariously through someone else?' Oh Reddy, you should just live for yourself. I mean, the truth is I don't practice what I preach most of the time, but I really do mean this. Just go out there and live your best life. You're not Ricky's therapy dog or anything (that being said, Ricky's getting a therapy dog when?).

What part of 'a forest of boys' does Nini not get? It's simple enough. Just help Carlos do his job, how about that? I mean, he shouldn't have to do everything himself anyway.

See? He cracked. That's what happens when you put all this responsibility on a teen's shoulders and be like 'deal with it'. He was just trying his best, you guys. He did not deserve all the clapback.

Ricky's forced optimism about Miss Jenn and the show is too much even for me. Sure, I know everything turns out mostly alright at the end, but this just sounds like Ricky's on the verge of a breakdown. You know, every time someone's been too unrealistically positive on this show, it has ended in a breakdown. And that's the last thing I want.

I do agree about the simple acoustic version of the song, though. Sometimes simple is the best option.

Major props to Carlos for going up to Mr. Mazzara like that. If someone had bullied me, and especially if that someone was a teacher, I'd never have dared to call them 'Benjamin Mazarra!' to their face. Even when he's on the verge of despair, this boy is still the boldest. And we love him for that.

Is this where the 'Carlos Surname' joke started, though? I had forgotten. It was funny while it lasted.

Ricky doesn't know it yet, but he's seriously playing with Gina's feelings there. And I don't blame him because, again, he doesn't know yet, but I still feel bad for her.

'Despite the 4.3 GPA, I'm actually an idiot.' — EJ is high intelligence, low wisdom, confirmed. Not that this is news, but I really don't remember much about this season, so I'm pointing this out now.

Now forgive me if I'm not feeling for Miss Jenn after 2x11... she did some really unforgivable things there. Still, as much as I want to say a real qualified teacher would not do any of that, my personal experience suggests otherwise, quite unfortunately. Miss Jenn might not be very emotionally mature, but not having legal teaching credentials is not her biggest issue, really. It is precisely her lack of emotional maturity.

OMG, Big Red accidentally invited the entire drama club over! And that, I guess, is half of how Redlyn established themselves as the hosts of every out-of-school drama club gathering. Thanksgiving is, of course, the other half. Gosh, those two were the parents of the drama club even before they were a couple. Guess they're soulmates in that way, too.

Ok, so I didn't comment on this after 2x8 when Big Red did it to Ricky, but now that I finally notice that Seb did it to Carlos, too (I took my time, thanks), I need to talk about the knee touch thing. See, this is exactly the amount of touch I used to be comfortable with (since I'm very touch-averse) — both on the giving and on the receiving end — and it can mean so much when you feel bad. It's a subtle 'hey, I'm here, it's going to be fine', a sort of hug-without-the-hugging... I feel like this is a gesture we don't see enough of in media and it can feel just as intimate as, say, holding hands or cuddling. I don't want to talk about kissing because I don't know anything about it. But I just love how we've got the knee touch depicted by both a romantic pairing and a platonic pairing in the show. Ok, rant over. But I just really wanted to talk about this because, well, I saw myself in it.

'Her past is a little bit sketchy'... I see, Ash has already started writing Truth, Justice and Songs in Our Key, even if she doesn't know it quite yet.

Miss Jenn finding out Mike is Ricky's dad is just as awkward as it should be. Whatever they had going on should have ended right then and there.

'... people in the dramatic arts are insane' — 'Thank you.' — Umm, Miss Jenn, you are not really helping your case there. Quite frankly, you're lucky you've got the allegiance of the entire drama club. I don't think they'd have your back as much after 2x11, though.

Ok, but... Big Red wearing a longcoat just to take it off for the dramatic flair of it all? An icon if I've ever seen one. Also, mad props to Larry for apparently learning this number in record time after Dara got injured.

Oh, and... mad props to all the kids in-universe for writing, rehearsing, and learning this entire number in one night.

So both Seb and Natalie have solo lines in the song... and Seb was promoted to main in s2. So does this mean Natalie will get the same treatment in s3? I mean, that will probably mean they'll try to stick her in some sort of romantic plot, and I really don't need that, but I really, really want her to be a main character.

Also, let's not forget we had our first Redlyn moment in this number... seeing them dance together makes my heart jump with joy!

I won't lie, though, the entire dance number and everything was just a little bit uncomfortable to watch after 2x11... these kids do so much for Miss Jenn, and what does she do? Put insane amounts of pressure on some of them, shuts others down at every attempt to put in a word, favours yet others despite their abysmal performance at the audition, and then has the audacity to tell that same person to jump off of something high, with all the implications attached? Not that I'm naming any names, of course. Ok, this has taken a sudden and uncalled for turn for the dark, so I guess I'll just move right along to the next episode now.

1x7: A world where 'That was terrible!' and 'I'm so happy!' can both be true at the same time

My girl Ash is doing the recap! And she's a pun queen, too. 'Miss Jenn was in hot water, Carlos was a hot mess...' — not pleasant, but so true. But wbk. Ashlyn is the best.

And... Ricky and Nini's on and off chemistry is back on. Good for them, because after season 2, I really needed to see a good rehearsal. But I'm thinking EJ's joy at the end-of-school bell had little to do with Thanksgiving...

That look Reddy gave Ashlyn as she was walking out... might be me digging for breadcrumbs, but I think I just saw the exact moment my boy fell, and he fell hard. Ok, I realise now after I've said this that 'fall' probably isn't the best choice of words, but you know what I mean. Fell for Ashlyn. Not like... oh, never mind.

'So meek, so mild, sword!' I can't really explain it, but I love this line. And I feel like it describes Ash so perfectly: like, she might be meek and mild, but if you cross her, she's armed. Gosh, I love her!

Not the Caswell parents leaving their children alone over two holiday breaks! No wonder these two are the way they are. But they're about to get a beautiful Thanksgiving celebration. [Fun personal fact: the year I was born, my birthday fell on Thanksgiving day. That doesn't mean much in Bulgaria, but my dad works with a lot of Americans so my parents knew about it and I've known this and that about this holiday I've never celebrated since I was very young. I have no idea why I'm telling you this, but Thanksgiving has always reminded me of my birthday for this reason, so... ok, moving on.]

So I know she kind of suggested it, but... why does Carlos think it's his place to invite people over to Ashlyn's? I mean, this was part 2 of Redlyn establishing themselves as the hosts for any out-of-school gathering, but... oh well, it led to a beautiful party with everyone, so... I'll allow it.

I really liked Nini's talk with her grandma. It was really nice, and a very fitting way to remind everyone what Thanksgiving is originally about. I feel like people often forget that when it comes to... literally every major commercialised holiday.

Wow, EJ really is that person where once the tap is open, it can't stop spilling. And I kind of like that look on him. It's a transitional stage between EJ 1.0 and EJ 2.0, and I appreciate it for what it is.

Ahhhh it's Redlyn's first proper 1-on-1 conversation! I mean, it got kind of really awkward really quickly because of — surprise, surprise — Nini and Ricky (and EJ), but those two are so adorable! No more breadcrumbs — we're about to get an entire five-course meal here! Which goes really well with the Thanksgiving setting, now that I think of it.

Gosh, they've never really talked and my boy whips out the 'the only thing I'd ever throw at your face is a brighter spotlight' line right off the bat? Boy is whipped! But like, he is the master of grand gestures where Ashlyn is concerned. Still, in this first moment they shared, he really was like, go big or go home, and home isn't really an option here. But I should have known, it's in his name after all. Gosh, I love both of those two so much! Especially when they're together.

Ok, so... this is a really bad way to meet your mother's new boyfriend. Poor Ricky. As if ringing his mum wasn't hard enough already.

See, when I rewatch season 1, I get where the Rina stans are coming from, but then again, remember when I used to say I wanted Gina and EJ to just be friends? Yeah, that's changed too. Not that I ever shipped Rina romantically — I rarely ever ship a pairing unless they're explicitly stated to have something going on, just because I can't see that sort of stuff very clearly — but I really, really want them (Ricky and Gina, I mean) to be really good friends. Once they get past the awkwardness of their sort of history, I mean.

I miss the good old days when Nini was a nice person... I mean, we kind of (really) had a glimpse of that in 2x11 (I'm guessing she was making up for Miss Jenn's very inappropriate slip-up), but I miss the days before she was this big internet-famous songwriter and actually had to be convinced by Ashlyn that she should write songs for herself... wait, now that I think of it... Ashlyn might have helped create a monster there. Oh well. Still love her so much!

You know, I love the Choosical, but it's all a bit sad, if you stop to think about it for a sec. Just picture little single-digit-aged Carlito making this whole thing up in an attempt to participate in his favourite thing... only to not have anyone to play with for the next ten years. Great, I just made myself cry. The thing is, I relate to that story a bit too much. I remember in preschool, when the rest of the children would play together, I'd sit in a corner by myself and read the only book that was there... over and over, day after day. I don't even remember a single thing about that little book right now, but back then I clung to it like it was everything. And I couldn't very much share the experience with any of my peers, seeing as I was the only kid there who could actually read (my grandma used to be a preschool teacher and she taught me to read when I was 4). So yeah. I went off on a rather personal tangent there. Thing is, I know how little Carlos felt and I'm so happy that he finally gets to share this thing he made with a loving and supportive group of friends. Everything has its time and place, I guess.

'Look, I'm not following Big Red just because he paid me a compliment' — of course not, dear, you know your own worth and we love that for you — but see, when he said that thing that you're referring to as a compliment, he did not lie! You really are the brightest star and deserve the brightest spotlight. See, the thing I love most about Redlyn's compliments to each other is that they're so sincere and state nothing but the absolute truth. Those two just see each other for what they are, and love each other as they are. And I think that is beautiful.

It's so funny to me every time someone gets something wrong and Carlos just walks past them out of nowhere and corrects them without missing a beat. I kind of relate to that side of him, too. Except it's usually about grammar and language in my case, not HSM trivia.

If I were Nini in this scene, and was suddenly put face to face with Emily on the spot like that, I would not have been able to handle it. So props to Nini for handling it.

Yeah, sorry to break it to you, Emily dear, but whatever you're doing is not a Cockney accent. I don't claim to be an accent expert, but I know first-hand what Cockney sounds like and... that's just not it. Even Dick Van Dyke was closer to a Cockney accent in Mary Poppins, and that's saying something. (See, I feel bad criticising any aspect of Emily because her actress is no longer with us, but... I have no idea who let them get away with passing this off as Cockney).

Is this the beginning of Jennzara there? I am loving this.

Of course Carlos was obsessed with Glee as a kid... but wasn't he a bit too young for it when it aired? I know I was, and I'm older than those kids. I mean, I waited until I was emotionally mature enough to watch Glee, and that wasn't until 3 years ago, when I was 18 going on 19. Ok, I'm thinking too much into this. Moving on.

Ahhhhh, Redlyn! Just... all of their moments. But screaming the lyrics of What I've Been Looking For on top of their lungs while looking right at each other... was so beautiful to watch. Give me more of that!

EJ: 'That was terrible.' Seb: 'I'm so happy!' — Moods, both of them. Those two are real-life emojis, aren't they? And we love them for that.

'... without laughing... or killing each other.' — I feel like that last specification was needed given that it's Ricky and EJ we're talking about, and especially what happened last time they had to do a one-on-one exercise during rehearsal. The ensuing scene, however, is the most hilarious thing!

Root beer, huh? Is that the HSMTMTS code for 'awkward' now? I mean, Nini and Gina had a nice talk there, all things considered. I really want the two of them to put the Ricky thing past them and be friends... but we'll see.

Gina is trying to make the sleepover thing look like 'it's not a big deal' despite how big of a deal it obviously is to her... to which I say, good for you, girl, but I wouldn't know. The only sleepovers I've ever had have been with my little cousin who is 9 years younger than me and also insists on sleeping with a very bright nightlight on, which means I can't sleep at all. So yeah, I wouldn't know. But I'm happy that Gina is feeling included.

So this is the exact moment when it becomes clear that Big Red is not telling us the complete truth when it comes to his HSM knowledge... '14 and 10'? Even I didn't know that. I knew 14, but... for someone who allegedly 'hates musicals', my boy has very detailed knowledge of one certain musical movie... I love how it got him a certain girl's attention, though. Not that she wasn't already paying attention to him, if you catch my drift.

Ok, but this hits even harder now than it did the first time — just when Gina has finally managed to make friends, to feel included in their group, her mum has to move her away again. This is straight-up tragic. I'll say it now, and I'll probably say it again when it comes up in the rewatch — Ashlyn is an absolute queen for taking Gina in for the next semester.

'That's sort of what you always do, huh? Take care of everyone else' — yeah, Ash, and you do the same. You two just need someone to do for you what you do for other people. See, guys, this is what I mean. This is why they're soulmates. Because in a world that has more or less forced both of them to put others first, they put each other first. They each get to be the most important person to each other after they've been stepping back for others all the time. And if that isn't beautiful, I don't know what is. I know I'm repeating myself over and over saying this, but... they own my heart and soul and I'm not for sale.

Ok, but Ashlyn's little run after Big Red left was so cute! Girl is... I don't know why I keep using that word, but... falling.

Unpopular opinion: Out of the Old is the best Nini solo to come out of this series to date. Maybe I feel that way just because I relate to it most, but hey, that is a valid reason to like something.

Oof, EJ's losing followers. Oh well, if they're unfollowing him for being too honest, they didn't like the real him to begin with. So good riddance to them.

Yikes... Jennzara fell asleep with flammable stuff left unattended... we all know how that ended, but just the fact that they felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in each other's presence... speaks volumes. So I guess... well, I don't know what exactly I'm saying regarding the fire they caused, but I loved this big little moment they had.

So this is it. That was 1x6 and 7 and, well, they were beautiful, but there are some parts I can't look at in the same way anymore after 2x11. Guess that's the risk of a rewatch. The Redlyn scenes, though — still the best part of both of these episodes. That and a couple of other things for which I don't need to pretend like I haven't seen season 2.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts: the rewatch #ricky bowen #nini salazar-roberts #gina porter #ej caswell #ashlyn moon caswell #big red redonovich #carlos rodriguez #seb matthew-smith #kourtney greene #hsmtmts miss jenn #hsmtmts mr mazzara #redlyn #jnk

14 notes · View notes

commander-hanji-zoe · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! can I request nanaba/fem reader around the time of Utgard Castle? (Where everyone survive please;—;) It can be one shots or hc anything that you feel comfortable with. I also hope you have a good day!

Hello lovely, ahhh I am loving writing so much for Nanaba! I hope you like this, I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do but then it came to me and it’s a bit sickly sweet. I reference the plot at Utgard Castle but it’s wooly as I wanted to focus on the reader/Nanaba and fluff. Also I decided to write this as a fem reader who’s never been with a woman before and so is a bit nervous about confessing. (I actually was thinking of the time I was 15 and wrote my best friend a love letter, I was absolutely head over heels in love with her and it was then I realised I was definitely Bi. Anyway, she was straight, but she continued to hold my hand, hug me all the time, have sleepovers and be the sweetest girl.)

No Smut in this one & no warnings, just a little PG reference I guess towards the end.

Gelgar disappears from view, Nanaba close behind.

“But…” you start to say, the words you would follow-up with are, “I didn’t get to say goodbye or…” You try to fight back the tears, the follow-up words are too painful for you to say aloud, “I love you…”

Everything is always too late, the decisions you make, the strength you manage to muster. Why is it everything you decide to do always comes a second too late? Over the past few months you’d gotten closer to Nanaba becoming friends and then almost something akin to sisters. But it was more than that, at least that’s what it felt like to you. You’d held hands a few times and the hugs you shared always lingered longer than hugs with anyone else.

There was one particular incident when Nanaba was feeling so sleepy but knew when she left your side it would be back to business, so instead you took her in your arms, her head nestled against your bosom and stroked her hair. She fell asleep in your arms and when she woke and departed all you could of how was how she smelt of your perfume and you of hers.

Too much to say and too little time - that was always the way. You were going to tell her how you felt or ask her if you could kiss her maybe after a few drinks for courage. You lied to yourself to the point where you really started to believe you were actually going to do it, but now facing the end you are faced with the bitter truth that you probably never would have told her how you felt. Maybe it was better that way. Better to love her in secret than to be rejected and know that pain.

So this is how it ends you think. There’s chaos around you, Ymir is there she’s talking like she has a plan. Outside there is so much noise and all you want is peace, perhaps to die and be able to rest wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

You curse yourself for thinking that, no, that isn’t how Nanaba would go out or Mike or Levi or the Commander…Thinking of Erwin gives you strength, thinking of Nanaba and how she is fighting to protect you all, fighting to protect you…so that you may have another morning where you wake up in bed beside one another.

You shake your head and stomp your feet loudly, this is your war cry you will not go out like this crying and afraid. No.

You run to the window and look outside, night is falling fast but you know that means nothing anymore. Curse any fear you had before, sod the lot of it, “Nanaba!” You shout, “I love you!” In that instance a weight is lifted from your shoulders and there’s a strange relief. It isn’t just from the confession it’s also because you’re being honest and allowing yourself to be true, to be yourself. This was something you always feared or rather feared the judgement of others and how ironic that the moment you decided to face your fears was likely the moment before you passed.

It’s practically hopeless, there’s no way she can hear you and without gas there’s no way you can join in the fight but you can rally what comrades you have left, but you have to try.

Just as all seems hopeless Nanaba slices through one of the Titan’s necks, yes, there’s a wave of relief although you know it’ll only be short lived but it’s one down and Nanaba is still alive. She looks down as she clings to the castle and meets your gaze, your hands create the shape of a heart without you really thinking about what you’re doing. She smiles you’re sure of it and as the last light of day catches her golden hair something else happens.

It all changes so quickly that you barely know what’s happening aside from one thing - that hope isn’t lost. Mike appears and a moment later he is aside Gelgar & Nanaba, slicing through another Titan’s neck with a great rallying cry. Ymir is a titan. Wait, what? Ymir has transformed into a titan an is fighting on your side and Krista watches with tears in her eyes. Is she in love with Ymir after all? Could it be possible? Maybe you’re not the only girl in love with another girl after all, maybe there was someone else who knew what it was like.

You know you shouldn’t be thinking like that or about love and romance full stop and your attention should be on the matter at hand but suddenly everything makes sense. All you can do is watch as your love and friends defeat the titans, you, Connie, Jean, Krista, all of you cheerleaders on the side knowing that you need those fighting outside as much as they need you.

They are hope and strength just as much as you are for it isn’t always physical strength that wins these battles, no it is love and faith, the belief you have in one another.

It doesn’t take long for the final titan to fall with an almighty roar and for the others to appear, drenched in blood and sweat back inside the safety of the crumbling castle.

When Mike, Gelgar and Nanaba came back, when you realised the battle of Utgard castle was won with few casualties, that it was over, all you could do was cry.

There was no jealousy when you saw Nanaba hug Mike and kiss his cheek, you knew how close they were. Now was not the time for jealously but for celebration and joy.

When Nanaba pulled away from Mike and turned to look at you, you could have sworn Mike nudged her and winked. How in a time like this could they be so casual?

And then it all made sense. This was the perfect time for confessions, the perfect time to say fuck it and be done with all of it. Life is for the living and your experience on that day made you realise that was something you really needed to start doing.

You find yourself unable to hold back, running to Nanaba and throwing your arms around her, “I was so scared,” you confess as you start to cry.

“Why?” Her voice is so soothing and reassuring, like she knew everything would be okay all along, “Because….Because I thought I was going to loose you.”

You stroke her hair, it’s warm and matted with blood but it doesn’t matter, you can wash it for her or the rain will cleanse it. None of that matters when suddenly you are gifted with time, time that you never believed possible.

You nuzzled into her neck afraid to let go of her in case you lost her again. Her soft hums and the way she held you in return reassured you that there was no reason to be afraid.

“Nana….I…I think I love you,” you confess. As the words fall from your mouth you’re as much surprised as everyone else. But it sounds so natural and a weight is lifted from your shoulders. “I’m sorry, I, I shouldn’t have said anything…what was I thinking, foolish I know I-I,” you’re blushing and more tears threaten to come as you stutter and start to pull again.

Her response comes in a smile and teary eyes followed by a kiss to your lips that seems to make the world crash below you. You hold one another tightly, afraid to let go as your tongues dance and teeth nibble at one another lips.

“I love you too you silly, beautiful girl,” Nanaba says when she finally breaks the kiss, her lips curling into the most precious smile. She’s panting and it’s the hottest most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“I,” time for another confession you think, you’d never been with a woman before but your feelings for her couldn’t be certain. You feel afraid to confess this but equally in comparison to what you have all just lived through, how could anything like this ever frighten you again, “I’ve never been with another woman, I don’t know…I don’t know how it works I just know that I love you Nanaba and my world is complete as long as I have you.”

Nanaba giggles softly, not in a cruel or unkind way. It’s sincere and loving, the kind of chuckle someone close to you has to themselves involuntarily when something so sweet or cute is uttered.

She tilts her head to the side and looks you up and down, pushing a few strands of hair behind your ear she leans in and whispers, “Well, there’s plenty I can teach you."

#Nanaba #Nanaba x fem reader #Nanaba x reader #SNK Vets #AoT Vets #Mike Zakarius #my writing #requests

59 notes · View notes

unpack-my-heart · 5 years ago

Text

I Would Not Wish Any Companion In The World But You

READ ON AO3 HERE

@tinyarmedtrex @xandertheundead @moonlightrichie @toziesque @constantreaderfool @violetreddie @eds-trashmouth @oldguybones

9th January 2003 // 06:24am

There are fifty four seats on the subway. Fifty four seats split across two carriages. Eddie knows this because he’s counted them. He’s counted them, over and over again, when he boards at seventy-eighth street, and takes the blue line south into the city every day at 06:24am. The air whips around his head cruelly, a mocking tempest that whispers in his ear, the rest of the world slumbers, the rest of the world sleeps like the dead. The subway station is buried deep in the underbelly of the street, five flights of stairs below the surface. Eddie descends every day, Persephone to her kingdom beneath the earth, a daily pilgrimage that he’d rather not take.

The air whips around his head, a bizarre faux-breeze created by the whooshing of the subway trains, and Eddie seethes silently.

– X –

9th January 2003 // 06:45am

Fucking fucking fuck fuck fuck. He’s late. He can practically hear the subway pull into the station, bouncing on its tracks impatiently, as he skitters down the stairway, sending a suited-and-booted businessman flying, the skittle to Richie’s bowling ball. A “watch it, you fuckin’ lunatic” later, and Richie’s on the platform, panting breathlessly as the train ambles into view. His sneakers are soaking wet, an unwelcome parting gift from the storm raging outside, and he wiggles his toes miserably, wet socks clinging, limpet-like, to his skin.

The train is heaving. Faceless bodies jostle each other, wordless micro-fights for territory, but no-one wins the war. Richie slides onto the carriage, lodging himself securely between a woman with a bouffant hairdo that smells like hairspray and the end of the world, and a man with sunken eyes. The train lurches forward.

– X –

9th January 2003 // 07:03am

He’s back. Eddie can sense him before he sees him. It’s as if the air shifts, as if the static sings out one clear note, loud and piercing, before shifting back to white noise once more. He’s back. Eddie turns around, as subtle a movement as he can manage, and sure enough, the man with the floppy hair and the Midas eyes is standing awkwardly in the middle of the carriage, one hand grasping the rail so tightly his knuckles are white, the other clasping a cup of coffee that was surely destined to spill. The man’s routine is almost as predictable as Eddie’s, as regular as the ebb and flow of the tide. He boards Eddie’s train at Hazelwood, always thirty seconds before the doors shut tight, always with a red tinge to his face, always with his glasses steamed with the effort of schlepping his body through the station at lightning speed.

Eddie flexes his hand on the handle of his briefcase. The leather is damp with sweat. The train stops once more, people filter off, people shove their way on. The dance continues.

– X –

13th January 2003 // 06:15am

For the first time in a week, Eddie makes it to the station without the heavens splitting open. His coat remains dry, and the music from his headphones is loud and uninterrupted in his ears. The inky sky is dappled with stars that shine brightly, almost too brightly, and Eddie turns his back on them as he descends into the subway station once more, with Ian Curtis warbling in his ear. The stars do not miss him.

His phone buzzes, surely a text from the warm body he’d left slumbering in his bed mere minutes before. Eddie ignores it, and the phone buzzes feebly once more, until it sits petulantly still in his pocket.

“Spare any change, mate?”

Eddie nods his head, and scrabbles in his pocket, fingers skimming his phone, before he pulls out five coins. He places them in the hand that wobbles slightly in the air.

“Thanks, Sir.”

Eddie nods again, a sharp, jerky movement, and walks on.

– X –

15th January 2003 // 07:25am

The doors of the train yawn open, and Richie trips out. He turns around, face flushed with embarrassment, scanning the vacant faces that stare out of the windows at him, the faces that stare past him, all of them but one. One set of eyes, curious and concerned in equal measure, do not leave his until the train has heaved itself up off its haunches once more, and scuttled off into the tunnel. Richie stares after it for one, two, three beats, before he turns on his heel and walks away.

It takes fifteen minutes for Richie to get to the radio station, a building that looms over the sidewalk. He waves his pass at the disinterested looking guard, and begins his trek up the four flights of stairs to his cubicle.

“Hiya, Rich,” Mike Hanlon says, a honey’d voice, a voice made for talk radio and asking you how you take your eggs in the morning.

“Howdy, partn’r,” Richie returns, and Mike laughs.

Mike slips past him, and skips down the stairs, humming a small ditty that Richie didn’t recognise.

Half way through his lunchbreak, half eaten sandwich discarded at the edge of his desk, chip crumbs stuck to his fingers, Richie remembers those eyes, and the face the eyes belonged to.

– X –

18th February 2003 // 07:00am

“I’m on the train, the signal might dip out,” Eddie warns, but the crackly voice on the other end just laughs.

“It’ll be fine, babe.”

“I’m just saying, you might not –”

“Eddie? Eddie are you here? I can’t hear you”

Eddie rolls his eyes, glaring at the ceiling as if it had personally affronted him. “I warned you, Jasp.”

“Hello? Eddie? Helloooo?”

Eddie hangs up. The phone buzzes once in his hand, a text. Eddie doesn’t read it.

The train pulls into the next station, a few minutes late, and the air crackles. On cue, the man with the hunched shoulders and sloping nose crowds his way on, nestling himself between a girl smacking her gum loudly and a woman with a large, unfortunate wart on the end of his nose. The man looks cheerful, and he taps his foot restlessly to a silent beat. Eddie watches the man from where he’s standing a few feet away with his arm thrust in the air, hand gripping the hand rail, or rather, the magazine that he had placed between his hand and the rail, a perhaps futile attempt to keep his journey and his hand as germ free as possible.

Thoughts of work invade Eddie’s brain with a familiar war-cry of meeting at 9am with the Bainton Brothers, must call Christine about the Duffer case, have I filled in the paperwork for the audit next week? Eddie lets the thoughts percolate and ferment until he’s giddy from the fumes.

The train pulls into 6th Avenue and the man gets off the train. Eddie closes his eyes against the loss.

– X –

29th February 2003 // 06:47am

He’s late. He skids around the corner, lungs threatening to rupture against the cage of his ribs, and watches helplessly as the train pulls gracefully away from the platform and disappears into the mocking darkness of the tunnel. He’s really really late.

Richie swears under his breath, and crosses his arms against the cold. The arrivals board flashes. The next train into the city is due in six minutes.

– X –

29th February 2003 // 07:01am

Eddie wonders if he’s sick, or if he’s got a new job, or if he’s simply decided that he wants to get the 06:54 into the city instead of the 06:45. The realisation that he’d miss his nameless travel companion sucker punches Eddie in the gut with such force that he staggers back slightly. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and guilt shoots up his spine.

– X –

19th March 2003 // 06:53am

A pair of seats free up after Nasser St Station, and Richie victoriously slides into them. He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s managed to rest his still-half-asleep legs on his morning commute, so he savours each opportunity like a fine wine. He plops down into the seat by the window, and rests his forehead against the cool glass. The seat beside him remains unoccupied for a suspicious length of time, and, unable to ignore it any longer, Richie sits up straight and looks around, curious. The carriage is uncharacteristically empty, the usual throngs of people unaccounted for. A lone figure stands in the middle of the carriage, head bowed, nodding along in blink-and-you’ll-miss them movements to music playing from his headphones, the bassy undertone bleeding from them loud enough for Richie to hear, but he doesn’t recognise the song.

Richie coughs.

Nothing happens. The train continues forwards, dancing in and out of stations rhythmically, and the man standing in the middle of the carriage flexes his hand around the hand rail, the newspaper lodged between hand and rail crackling loudly.

Richie coughs again, and one cough becomes two, and two becomes three until he’s spluttering, a fake explosion that he hopes catches the attention of a certain someone.

“Are you alright?” a voice asks, and Richie stops coughing immediately.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he replies, and the woman returns to her seat, eyeing him curiously.

When Richie turns away, a sheepish grin plastered on his face, he locks eyes with the man in the middle of the carriage, and his smile widens involuntarily. The man continues to stare at Richie, or rather, stare next to Richie. His eyes are trained on the tired, threadbare covering of the unoccupied seat next to Richie, with his eyebrows knitted as if deep in thought. Richie blinks, teeth bared in a now manic grin, and the man jerks, taking a step forward on unsure feet but, at the last moment, he stops, right foot hovering stupidly in the air, the ghost of a step never to be taken.

An older woman that smells like talcum powder and lavender soap sits down next to Richie at the next stop. The man disappears from view, and the smile slides off Richie’s face like tar.

– X –

30th March 2003 // 07:13am

Eddie practically throws his briefcase onto the seat, the previous occupant barely out of the way before the briefcase lands on the seat with a loud thud. Disregarding the fact that he has to get off the subway in four stops, Eddie slumps into the seat. The backs of his heels sting, a punishment for having the audacity to replace his old shoes, shoes with large holes in the soles, and buttery leather scarred with cracks and creases. Preoccupied with his protesting feet, Eddie barely registers a figure pushing its way down the carriage, before a body lands on the seat next to his, narrowly missing Eddie’s hand which he withdraws with a silent hiss.

Annoyance stirs like snakes in Eddie’s gut, before he glances at the face of the person whose knee was pressed solidly against his. Their eyes meet and, immediately, Eddie stares at the floor.

The man with the impish grin and the bushy eyebrows shifts in the seat, his knee no longer touching Eddie’s, and Eddie counts to five in his head, long and slow.

– X –

30th March 2003 // 07:23

Richie shifts in his seat, trying desperately to recapture the attention of the man beside him, who was staring out of the window, eyes squinted with the force of his gaze, but Richie was sure that he was seeing nothing at all. The man was shorter than Richie, and slight, body wrapped carefully in a suit made from a soft looking fabric, and Richie’s fingers itched with desire to touch it, to dance his fingers along the swooping lines of the man’s arms. Richie taps his fingers against his own thighs, and he gets lost in the movement, absorbed in the tap-tap-tapping of his fingers against his leg, and before he knows it, and before he’s ready, the metallic voice echoes out across the carriage.

“The next stop is 6th avenue west, if you’re leaving us here please ensure you have …”

The voice fades into the background noise. The man beside him tenses. Richie stands. The man slumps back in his seat, head resting against the window. Richie leaves.

– X –

9th April 2003 // 1:32pm

He’d gotten the call the night before. Mike was off sick, a viral infection that had swollen his tonsils to the size of golf balls, and the station desperately needed someone to cover the afternoon slot. Richie, mainly out of sheer devotion to Mike Hanlon, had graciously agreed, and had left his morning slot in the capable hands of his co-host. He had still woken at the crack of dawn, his body refusing to sleep for longer than it was used to, but Richie petulantly lay in bed until 8:45am, refusing to get out of bed until his bladder screamed riotously and he had counted every crack in the ceiling of his bedroom.

He had strolled to the subway station, coffee in hand, Danish pastry sitting heavy in his belly, relishing in the ability to be unhurried, to take his time, to potter this way and that. The subway was, predictably, much quieter than it was in the morning. Three or four people stood on the platform with him, mostly young adults, clutching heavy rucksacks. The train pulled in, Richie stepped on, and, almost immediately, dropped his coffee.

– X –

9th April 2003 // 1:34pm

Eddie watched as the man with the scuffed sneakers and large hands dropped his coffee, caramel coloured liquid pooling on the floor. The man huffed, a noise that was as annoyed as it was embarrassed, and stared helplessly at the mess on the floor.

A great, hacking cough forced its way up Eddie’s throat and, despite his attempts to squash it down, he erupted into a coughing fit that he buried in his scarf, eyes screwed shut against the throbbing in his ears. His eyes were hazy, every blink a Promethean effort. The air was thick, thick like honey but not half as sweet, and it stoppered his aching lungs viciously. The man had abandoned the spilt coffee and was now sat on a seat that directly faced Eddie’s, concern etched onto his face. Eddie, barely able to turn his neck without pain shooting up it, shut his eyes against the concern, and let the gentle rocking of the train lull him into something not quite sleep.

– X –

9th April 2003 // 1:44pm

A small packet of tissues fell gracelessly into Eddie’s lap, and when Eddie turned to look out of the window, neck practically creaking under the effort, the molten amber eyes of the stranger met his.

– X –

21st May 2003 // 8:45pm

The first time he had seen them, small daggers of ��did you really think’ and ‘are you quite that stupid’ had stabbed at Richie mercilessly. The second time he’d seen them had been worse, as the knife twisted and turned, a simple confirmation of the inevitable. Now, the third time, Richie was, thankfully, closer to careful apathy than ever before. They were laughing to each other, the braying hooting of the stranger contrasted with the quiet, gulpy laughter of the man Richie had spent practically every morning staring at, spurred on by cruel hope. Richie crossed his arm, the leather of his jacket rustling loudly, loudly enough that the object of Richie’s misguided infatuation glanced over at him. His eyes widened, a minute action but magnified under the intensity of Richie’s gaze, before he looked away, before he looked back at the man whose arm he was nestled under, and pointedly didn’t look at Richie again.

Cruel hope reared its ugly head once more upon Richie’s realisation that the man with the sandy hair and the laughter lines that Richie had studied so often never sat quite as close to his hulking brute boyfriend again.

– X –

12th June 2003 // 8:34pm

Jasper was ignoring him. He was jabbing at his phone obnoxiously, body angled away from Eddie’s deliberately. He didn’t notice when Eddie stood up, and moved to the seat across the aisle. He didn’t notice when Eddie collapsed in on himself, supernova turned supermassive black hole. He didn’t notice when Eddie stood up once more, and left the train at the next stop.

But someone did.

– X –

13th July 2003 // 06:56am

“Oh, is that him?!” Mike asked loudly, pointing at the sandy-haired stranger who was standing on the opposite side of the carriage. A riptide of embarrassment crashed through Richie’s body.

“Don’t fucking point at him, Jesus Christ!”

– X –

13th July 2003 // 06:58am

“Don’t fucking point at him, Jesus Christ!”

Against his better judgement, a sapling of a smile sprouted on Eddie’s face, a smile that was watered and nurtured by the frenzied muttering of the stranger to his sniggering friend, a smile that bloomed openly, proudly, towards the sun.

– X –

25th July 2003 // 07:23am

A scrap of paper floats through the air like ash after an eruption, and lands neatly on Eddie’s lap. It’s the corner of an old newspaper, and Eddie can vaguely make out the words, ‘the senator has issued a statement staunchly denying the ….”. Other than that, the scrap is entirely, utterly, unremarkable. Eddie gripped the paper between his thumb and forefinger, and then, only then, did he notice the scribbled handwriting on the other side.

‘I read this when I was 15. Couldn’t sleep for a week, totally ruined my kid sisters birthday party when the clown arrived and I took off screaming”

A tiny, menacing looking clown peers up at Eddie from where it has been drawn hastily in the corner with a chicken-scrawl scratch.

At the bottom of the scrap, is a tiny, so tiny Eddie almost misses it, ‘R’.

– X –

27th August 2003 // 06:59am

Richie leaves notes on the lap of the man with the kind, tired eyes for exactly a month, and not once, never once, does he receive one in return. They range from commentary about the book the other man is reading, or about what Richie ate for dinner the night before, or once, after Richie had wracked his fatigued brain for the entire journey to little avail, a not-entirely-true ‘I saw a squirrel that reminded me of you yesterday.”

Richie chalks the lack of reciprocation up to the fact that the stranger’s journey extends beyond his. Every morning, Richie disembarks the train before the stranger, who continues on to some unknowable destination. Never once does the stranger get off before Richie.

Until he does.

An entirely unremarkable Tuesday morning skates straight into the most bizarre experience of Richie’s short life when, at a stop he couldn’t name, one the train sails straight through each morning without fanfare, the stranger with the green-gold eyes stands up. He stands up, and practically runs in Richie’s direction, and throws a very neatly folded piece of lined paper into Richie’s lap. Then, before the doors can entrap him once more, the stranger is gone.

Richie watches him dart away, up the slimy slick stairs of the nameless subway station.

I’m going to be late to work because of this. The only words on the piece of paper, I’m going to be late to work because of this. Richie checks it once, twice, thrice, but all that he finds are those ten words.

Ten words Richie treasures for the next ten years.

– X –

1st September 2003 // 06:26am

With his fringe caked to his forehead with sweat, Eddie trips down the stairs to the subway platform blindly, boarding the train on autopilot. Unusually for a Wednesday, Eddie has to push his way on past hordes of people that jostle and shove at each other as the train breaks into a sprint towards the next station, and then the next, and then the next, and then it’s his stop. He’ll be getting on soon.

A bead of sweat chases down between Eddie’s shoulder blades. He shivers. His hand is slick on the hand rail.

And then he’s on. They’re closer than they’ve ever been. They come together like drift wood, pushed closer and closer still by the indifferent tide of people. The stranger stumbles, and his hand shoots out, grabbing at the hand rail that Eddie clings to. Their fingers are but centimetres away from each other now, and it’s too close, too close for Eddie and his fragile heart to bare, but then he’s falling, closer and closer, and closer.

“Fucking watch it! Fucking idiot, I’m fucking standing here!” he yells, and the teenager who just sent him flying forwards into the chest of the stranger with the now bemused eyes flips him off.

“Fucking child! Asshole,” Eddie says, no longer talking to the teenager but instead airing his frustration at the ceiling that just stares dumbly back at him.

The stranger is laughing.

– X –

1st September 2003 // 06:54am

“Fucking watch it! Fucking idiot, I’m fucking standing here!”

Richie laughs. He can’t help it. The other man stares up at him, anger vanishing from his face, chased away by an embarrassment that lingers.

“Are you okay?” Richie asks, and it’s out of his mouth before he can stop it. The stranger eyes him cautiously.

“Yes, fine thanks,” is all he says, and Richie gulps it down, parched.

– X –

2nd September 2003 // 06:47am

A note lands in Richie’s lap.

Dinner?

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #reddie fic #reddie fanfiction #IT 2017 #IT 2019 #IT fandom #IT fanfiction #IT fanfic #3-4K words #fanfic

147 notes · View notes

screensirenfic · 4 years ago

Text

Menthol Cigarettes - Chapter 31

“You must be an angel

I can see it in your eyes

Full of wonder and surprise

And just now I realise…”

I could hear the crossings of Madonna long before I actually got inside the cabin; the girls clearly having gotten home fine without me, and taken liberties when it came to meaning of “No Rules.”

Still; I guess it was kinda nice for El to be doing normal things, and what was more normal than a sleepover?

El was already stretched out on her bed, flicking through the copious amounts of TigerBeat magazines that Max insisted I bought for her; claiming that it was an absolute travesty that the only magazines El owned were comic books.

Max, meanwhile, was busy dancing around the room and singing into a hairbrush; the classic image of teenage femininity, which was honestly surprising coming from the self-labelled tomboy.

What was even more surprising was that the redhead had managed to rope me into it too; spinning her repeatedly under my arm whilst we sang along with a variety of The Queen of Pop’s greatest hits.

“Come on; El. Aren’t you gonna come and dance with us?!” Urged Max for the third time, earning her a laugh from El, but little else as she continued to stare at the posters in the magazine.

El had remained glued to them for the past half an hour; soaking in what I could only presume was vital information on being a teenage girl, and “how to tell if you and your man are astrologically compatible”; whatever that means.

Realising that her approach was getting her nowhere, Max abandoned the makeshift dance floor to go and see what had Eleven smiling so approvingly.

“Ohhhh; you’ve found Ralph Macchio!” Remarked Max as she looked over El’s shoulder; stating a name that rang bells, but not much more to me.

“Macchio?” Eleven asked, clearly even less familiar with the name than I was.

“Yeah; he’s the Karate Kid! Hi-yah!” Max exclaimed, ending with a cute little karate chop for emphasis that sent us all into a fit of giggles.

“He’s so hot; right?” She enthused; and already I was feeling a bit old for this conversation.

“I bet he’s an amazing kisser, too!”

El shot her a confused look; evidently unfamiliar with the female pastime of comparing the amorous talents of boys in general.

Maybe Max was less of a tomboy than I had thought…

“Hey; uh… Is Mike a good kisser?” Max asked, sitting on the edge of the bed as she attempted to prompt some form of discussion from El.

El turned to me, eyes wide as if expecting me to somehow know the answer.

“Hey; don’t look at me!” I excused myself; holding my hands up in dismissal.

“The only guy I regularly kiss is Max’s brother, and I’m sure she doesn’t want to hear about that!”

Instead; El turned back to Max; expression soft with honesty.

“I don’t know. He’s my first boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend.” Max corrected, sounding pretty smug at the fact.

Unfortunately; her comment didn’t have the desired effect, only succeeding in making El look further dejected.

“Hey; don’t worry about it. He’ll come crawling back to you in no time, begging for forgiveness…” Insisted Max, trying her best to put a smile back on El’s face.

“I totally guarantee that him and Lucas are like wallowing in misery and self-pity; like- ‘Uh; I hope they take us back!” She continued; impersonating the boys with a stupid whiny voice that finally succeeded in making El laugh.

“God; what I wouldn’t give to see their faces!” Max exclaimed, and El just looked at me meaningfully.

She couldn’t possibly be thinking of doing what I thought she was; could she?

She couldn’t be thinking what I was thinking; could she?

19 notes · View notes

billdenbrough · 5 years ago

Text

hi i’ve had a headache all day (my fault for staying up until 5am smh) and am coming down with a cold (outrageous, fuck u winter) so i’m not sure how coherent this is but @trentadepresso was having a rough day which is a Crime™ bc andrea is an angel, and she really loves stenbrough, so i thought i’d try my hand at this to cheer her up a little? andrea, babes, i have v little experience/thought w them so i hope i do them justice for u!! i love u v much. also i’m mobile as per so like. apologies in advance for any typos

STENBROUGH + 30. you don’t see me

It’s a Thursday, so it should be a quiet night, but there are about twenty people crammed into various nooks and crannies of the dorm that Bill, Richie and Ben share.

There are three girls sitting in a circle on Mike’s bed, braiding each other’s hair as they listen to him tell a story about Bill, Richie and an ornery goat that has Bev in stitches across the carpet; she’s sitting with some of Richie’s classmates from his Calculus class (“Rich, you’re doing an Arts degree,” Bev had pointed out with a laugh when he’d first slapped his schedule down in front of them all, which he’d met with an unrepentant shrug) at the foot of Ben’s bed, half-watching Community on Ben’s laptop, half-listening to Mike’s story; Ben and Richie playing a very intense game of Charades, along with about ten other people, in front of Richie’s bed, where Eddie is seated, watching the chaos between his fingers, laughing helplessly at absolutely every ridiculous impression Richie does; and finally, where Stan’s eyes always are, Bill, lying down on the carpet, lazily sketching some of the tableau in front of them.

Stan, for that matter, is sitting on the windowsill by the head of Ben’s bed, perched in a way that allows him to survey it all. He’d been talking to some of the braiding girls before Mike had started telling his story, and has since escaped to his raised position. Despite what Richie might say when teasing him, Stan likes these sorts of kick-backs, likes seeing his friends have fun, likes engaging with their peers. He’s not the most sought-out ever (that would be Richie, Bill, or maybe Bev), but that’s hardly a concern of his; he likes having his odder sense of humour, likes having shorter interactions with people, likes having less demands for his time and energy. Richie gets energy from other people’s attention. The only attention that sends a zing through Stan is that of the people he cares about.

There’s a girl giggling—well, there’s several, it’s Richie, but this one stands out in her intentionality—over Richie’s antics at Charades, and Stan winces. He thinks her name’s Belinda—or maybe Bethany?—which would already be a no from him, given how many fucking B-names his friends have, but he’s very certain she’s out of luck. She’s attractive, he supposes, and he could see Richie being interested for a night, but, well. They’ve never talked about it, but Stan is Richie’s best friend. He’s always been aware of how Richie’s eyes travel to Eddie after every antic, always craving his reaction more than anyone else’s.

Of course, that goes two ways. Like, Eddie glancing back, sure, but that’s not what Stan means. He means that he’s pretty sure Richie’s aware of the way Stan’s always on the look out for a crop of auburn hair half a head above everyone but Richie or Mike, the way his gaze always—inevitably—finds Bill in any room, the way something in his heart hurts when it’s late at night and Bill’s looking at him with that sleepy smile.

There’s a shout of triumph, and Stan glances over at the charades crew, which seems to have grown in number. Richie’s whooping, Ben’s laughing at him, and Mike and Bev have ended up over there too, on either side of Eddie, shouting “best of three!” Richie glances at Ben, who shrugs, making Richie beam. “All right! This time, though, Eds, you’re playing,” Richie announces, and Stan stifles a laugh at the expression on Eddie’s face.

“Wait, Rich—” Eddie’s saying, and then Mike says, “C’mon, Eddie, I’ll be with you guys too. Who’s going to get Richie’s impressions faster than you?” and the expression on Eddie’s face... kind of knocks the breath out of Stan. He dearly wants to talk to him and figure out exactly what Mike’s words did to Eddie’s understanding of it all, but Richie’s still smiling brightly at Eddie, all hopeful eyes, and just like always, Eddie sighs, and nods. “Yeah, okay, as long as Mikey’s with us,” he says, and Richie whoops.

“Guess that means I’m with you,” Bev says to Ben, who smiles back. “Guess so,” he says. “Bill, do you want to play?” he asks, turning to where his roommate is still lying on the floor. Stan, again, stifles a laugh at the expression on Richie’s face (“He is entirely too good of a friend sometimes,” Richie had grumbled to Stan once, “like he and Bill are close, and Bill and Bev are totally over what the fuck ever you wanna call what they had going on for literally like, two weeks, so it’s not like he needs to do it to be a good friend to Bill anyway, but holy shit, I wish he’d realise that Bev, like, wants to hang out with him for him. Like, love yourself, dude.”), before his eyebrows shoot up at what Bill’s doing.

Because Bill is standing, shaking his head, and completely abandoning the two people who were lying beside him, not so subtly trying to get him to sketch them. “Nah, I wanna show Stan some of these,” he says, which is... odd. Not that he wants to show him things—Stan knows, realistically, that he’s one of the most important people in Bill’s life, and that Bill values his opinion—but just the timing of it all.

Ben nods, asking one of the girls braiding hair if she wants to join their team instead, but Bev’s eyes stay on Bill. There’s something knowing in them that Stan’s not entirely sure what to do with.

“Hey, you been having fun?” Bill asks, leaning against the wall just to the left of the head of the bed. He’s close enough that Stan can feel every movement brush against him.

“Yeah,” Stan says agreeably. “I mean, probably not as much as them—” he leans his head towards a few of the audience members for the charades shenanigans who seem to be drinking beer, even though Stan didn’t see any boxes around, “—but it’s been fine. What about you?” He nudges Bill, inclining his head towards the sketchbook Bill’s got under his arm. “Any good scenes?”

Bill’s lips, in a grimace at the drinking students, twist into an embarrassed smile. “Yeah, I mean, kind of? Everyone’s having fun, and that’s, you know, soothing to draw.”

“Can I see?” Stan asks. He doesn’t usually ask. He’s the only one. He’s always been the most sensitive about the idea of Bill saying no. But. But Bill is warm and bright and next to him, and he said he wanted to show Stan some of them, and maybe Stan’s not foolish to believe it.

Bill glances at him in surprise. “You want—yeah, sure,” he says, and it sounds so easy in his mouth, even though it was accompanied with the kind of initial surprise that used to get him stuttering so hard that even their teachers referred to him by it. (That had always made Stanley angry, so angry; the idea that anyone could see Bill, with all of his bravery and determination and loyalty, his creativity and care and warmth, and think the thing that mattered most to define him was his fucking stutter.)

He pushes off from against the wall and tilts his head towards his now-empty bed, and Stan nods. He slips down from the windowsill onto Ben’s bed, gently closes Ben’s laptop mid-rant from Jeff Winger, and ends up sitting at the head of Bill’s bed while Bill drops himself into his desk chair. He passes Stan the sketchbook, and Stan opens it, drawing in a breath. The first one is of Richie, and it’s—fuck, it’s just beautiful. Richie’s always been so in motion that Stan would never have guessed he could see a paper page and feel like he could find his best friend in the lines on it, but Bill’s managed it. There’s something striking in the lines and slopes of Richie’s face, something frenetic in the feathering lines of his hands, something in the expression on his face that suggests of a laugh beginning to form. It’s bright and bold and fucking beautiful, and Stan was always sure Bill was talented, but he doesn’t have words for this.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and he’s vaguely aware of Bill’s eyes on his, the weight of his gaze, but he’s mostly losing himself in the sketches. He flicks to the next page, and it’s Bev and Ben. Stan always thinks of the way Ben looks at Bev, maybe because he’s a little closer to Bev than he is to Ben, but Bill drew it the other way around. Ben’s the star of the piece, with his burly arms and wide, sweet face, and Bev’s looking at him, and the expression on her face is so fond and amused and fierce and affectionate that it hurts, because it’s so her, but Stan prides himself on being observant, and if he didn’t notice this tonight, then Ben definitely didn’t. Maybe if he sees it here, rendered in such vivid detail that it’s impossible not to swallow as something true, it’ll hit him.

“She looks at him like Eddie looks at Richie,” Bill says with a quiet chuckle, and Stan’s heart stops in his chest. Because, yeah, Richie and Eddie feel very obvious to Stan, especially Richie at Eddie. But he can’t fathom how Bill could possibly notice Bev looking at Ben and Eddie looking at Richie and not notice Stan’s eyes following him through every room. He flicks more hurriedly through the pages, soaking them all in, and they’re beautiful, all so beautiful. Mike’s strong and tall and genuine, laughing quietly with three girls on Bill’s bed; Bev’s legs are tangled in Richie’s from earlier in the night, the two of them setting up Community; Eddie’s laughing so hard that he’s breathless, leaning on Ben for support, and—

Wait.

Stan glances back at it, brow furrowing. The background is half filled-in, and something in Stan’s stomach lurches, because he remembers this moment. He’d been right there, on the other side of Ben, looking at Eddie with amusement. But he’s not in the sketch.

He flicks to the next page. It’s Mike and Bev, sitting cross-legged on the floor, well before most people arrived, and Stan’s frown deepens, because he knows he was there, standing behind Bev, hands resting on her shoulders. They’re bare in the pictures. He flicks forward again. Richie talking to Mike. Stan feels like he and Eddie should be laughing in the background, but they’re not. He’s not.

He flicks forward again. There are more of the kick-back, all these people Stan knows only vaguely, and yet. None of Stan. This whole night is basically immortalised in this sketchbook, but there’s none of Stan or Bill. He... really doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Stan?” Bill’s voice breaks through. “What’s wrong?”

Stan doesn’t look up. He’s thinking this through in his mind, examining it from every possible angle. He ends up with one possible conclusion, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“You don’t see me,” he says carefully. His heart thuds, but his voice is level. He finally looks up.

Bill blinks. “W-what?” Clearly, it’s the last thing he expected Stan to say. Some distant part of Stan notes that the stutter is back.

“There are like twenty pictures here,” Stan says, and does his voice sound too rigid? Too taut? He’s trying for patient, or at the very least, not hurt. “All from tonight.”

Bill nods, brow furrowed.

“Bill,” Stan says patiently, wondering why he’s even pursuing this. Because he’s a constant disappointment to himself, probably. “There are like twenty pictures in here, and none of them are of me.”

Bill’s eyes widen, and his mouth pops open ever so slightly. It hurts to look at it. Because that’s what he’d look like when he kisses someone, Stan imagines, and that’s never felt like less of a possibility for him to experience than now.

“It’s whatever,” Stan says, “I mean, you’re under no obligation to. I just... was surprised, I guess.” Because we’re best friends. Aren’t we? Because even if your heart doesn’t skip a beat when I smile at you, we’re still friends, aren’t we?

Bill still looks a little taken aback, but something Stan said must have gotten under his skin, because he opens his mouth furiously, before being cut off by a whoop from Bev (“Suck on that, Tozier!”). He closes his mouth instead, and looks at Stan with such intensity that Stan feels off-kilter.

“Stan,” he says quietly, fiercely. “Stan, I see you. You’re like, the only thing I see.”

And now Stan’s mouth is slightly open, because he doesn’t know what to do with that. How to compute that, how to make it align with the facts of the universe as he knows it, with what he’s surmised from the sketchbooks.

Bill, apparently, didn’t mean to say all that, because his face shuts down for a moment, before it takes on a determined set. He slides back slightly from the edge of the bed and rifles through his desk drawers—god, they’re a fucking disaster area, Stan notes with a wince—before pulling out another sketchbook.

“Th-th-this is the one I had before,” he says, and there’s something so familiar about Bill in this moment, stuttering yet determined, that it twists something in Stan’s chest. He pushes it towards Stan, who opens it.

The first picture is of Richie again. But it’s Richie with Stan, and Richie’s laughing, joy in motion, and yet. The sketch is focused on Stan, with his wry smile and dancing eyes and the way his shoulder sits under the arm Richie slung around it. The next one is Eddie and Richie, and Stan’s in the background, but he’s got as much detail in his expression as Richie does, despite his face being a fifth of the size. Stan flicks through. They’re all like that. There’s a fair few without him, of course, but all of the ones that feature him, it feels like the pencils came a little more alive when resting on him. He looks up at Bill, open-mouthed.

“You’re just,” Bill says, before laughing shakily. “You were the only thing I could see. So I had to start drawing the space around you. To cope, you know.”

Stan’s heart is thudding. He’s genuinely, for the first time in his life, speechless. Which is saying something, given how long he’s known Richie Tozier.

Bill flicks the pages of the sketchbook from tonight to the very back, and there’s Stan’s face, staring back at him. He’s grinning to the side, amusement in his eyes, and every line of it is so fond, so carefully rendered, that Stan’s heart genuinely hurts.

“Bill,” Stan says, and he doesn’t know what he’s saying. That he gets it, maybe. That his eyes find Bill in every room. That he fell in love with everything Bill drew tonight, that to see the way Bill sees him blows him completely away.

“I didn’t mean to drop this all on you,” Bill says, running his hands through his hair. “I just. Couldn’t stand the idea of you thinking you didn’t matter.”

Stan’s hands snake out and capture Bill’s. Bill glances up at him, eyes wide. Behind them, Stan can hear Eddie shouting something about an octopus—Richie must be having his turn—but Stan wills away those noises.

“You’re the first person I look for in any room,” Stan says, and when Bill’s breath hitches, Stan squeezes his hand. “You’re always the first thing I see.”

Bill looks like he’s been struck by lightning. “God,” he breathes. “We’re so fucking stupid.”

Stan huffs. “Okay, no. Richie and Eddie are idiots. Ben too. We’re just... mildly moronic.”

“Mildly moronic?” Bill sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

“I mean, we sorted it out in one conversation,” Stan says, ignoring the way his stomach is fluttering. “They’re all going to need at least three. Mike’s the only one I trust.”

Bill really does laugh then, and he’s sliding his chair forward, and Stan’s breath hitches. “Mike’s the smartest one of us all,” he agrees, speaking into the small space between them.

“Richie is so fucking clever, and yet,” Stan murmurs into the space between, and is it getting smaller...?

“No braincells,” Bill sighs, and then he’s sighing it into Stan’s mouth, and Stan was so wrong earlier, when he thought he’d never see what it looked like for Bill Denbrough to look at him like he meant to kiss him.

(When they separate, Stan’s flushed and Bill’s ears are red. The noise is still coming from the charades crew—Bev’s the one acting it out now—but Richie catches Stan’s eye, waggling his eyebrows, but the beam on his face is sincere, and the thumbs up he gives Stan completely genuine. Stan rolls his eyes back, but can’t stop the smile spreading across his face, least of all when he meets Bill’s gaze again, and sees the giddy grin on the taller boy’s face.)

49 notes · View notes

breathinginthevapor · 6 years ago

Text

Snowed in

Summary: You and Luke have the same friend group, but hate each other. On a skiing trip with your friends, you end up being trapped inside the cabin because of a blizzard, just the two of you.

A/N: Who doesn’t like 7.5k words about the amazingly cheesy subject of enemies-to-lovers? It’s cute, it’s fluffy, it’s hella long, so I think you should give it a read and tell me what you think! I’m still practicing writing long things where there actually happens somethng but I’m excited about this, also because I’ve finished this much faster than my usual writing. Enjoy!

T/W: mentions of alcohol, (very) slight nsfw, fluffff

Masterlist

He sighs annoyed, frustratingly running a hand through the curly blond locks, “Why does this seem awfully much like something our friends would do?”

“Oh yeah, I can’t believe I forgot our friends are all magicians who have summoned this blizzard and trapped us here,” you sarcastically snort and roll your eyes at his terrible stupidity.

Idiot

He mirrors your expression, blue irises turning towards to the ceiling as he reasons with a voice that sounds like you’re a child that doesn’t understand the simplest mathematical formula, “I’m not saying that, you wombat-”

“Wombat? ‘the fuck do you mean?” you interrupt.

“Australian curse-word for a stupid or slow person,” he explains with an arrogant smile playing on his lips before continuing, “As I was saying, they could possibly have seen a warning about the blizzard on the news and then go out for ‘sightseeing’ in a town where we all know there’s absolutely nothing even remotely exciting and oh, how convenient that they’ve put the two of us on cleaning duty in the meantime.”

He pauses to take a breath, expression smug.

Ugh, he’s such an ass

“They just had to hope that the blizzard would actually arrive and snow us in.”

You hate to admit it, but he has a point

Damnit

Besides, it’s true. Your friends have been trying to ease up the tension between you and Luke for a long time, and, knowing your friends, it would only take a certain amount of time for them to go to extreme measures.

You sink down onto the sofa with a growl, not even trying to hide your frustration. It’s no secret you and Luke don’t exactly get along.

Some of your best and closest friends call him their brother, basically family after being in a band together for so long, but you’ve always thought their fame and success have gone to that pretty, little head of his.

Because it is pretty, his head.

Just like the rest of his body, if you’re being honest.

Pretty might even be an understatement.

He’s fucking gorgeous.

But he’s still an arrogant, self-centred, insolent, intolerable piece of shit, and you can’t believe you’re snowed in with him, of all people. This can’t possibly get worse.

Just as the thought passes through your head, you’re proven wrong when the light turns off.

“‘ucking hell, please tell me that wasn’t the electricity switching off right there,” he pleads desperately, using his incredibly long legs to reach the light switches with only three steps.

He pushes the buttons over and over, but nothing happens.

“Cut it, Luke, it won’t work.”

He doesn’t look like he registers your words as he keeps hitting the switches. Still, nothing happens.

“Save that energy for something else. If the lights are out, we’ll have to find some candles. It’ll start getting dark soon.”

Finally, he stops his movements and turns to look at you, biting his lip angrily, although you get the feeling he isn’t angry at you, but more at the circumstances.

“If you search the kitchen and bathroom, I’ll check the rooms and then we’ll make a plan for everything else, alright?” you propose, and though he certainly doesn’t look content with you taking control, he obeys and starts to search through the drawers.

You get up yourself, first walking into the room Ashton shares with Calum (you swear, those two will end up getting married someday) finding nothing remotely similar to a candle, even checking Ashton’s suitcase for one of those scented ones he always freaks out over.

Then, you check the room you share with Crystal (it’s been decided that Mike and Crys aren’t allowed to share a room because then none of you will get any sleep having to listen to them “bone” (Ashton’s term, not yours) all night) but there’s nothing candle-like in there either.

Before searching through Luke and Michael’s room, you walk into the empty one where Roy and Mitchy were supposed to sleep. Unfortunately, they got sick just before you left, both suffering from high fever and nausea. You’re guessing that they probably shared a kiss last time you all went out and ended up infecting each other.

Lastly, you search through drawers and suitcases and cabinets and under piles of dirty clothing, but in the end, you have to give up and cross your fingers that Luke has been luckier than you.

Just the thought of him makes your blood boil with anger.

But just like it seemed like his anger was directed towards the situation and not you, yours are set ablaze by the thought of your friends scheming this.

They’re all dicks, and you hope they freeze terribly

Speaking of freezing, isn’t it getting kind of cold in here?

You gasp, the realization hitting you.

“Luke!” you yell, forgetting all about your irritation towards the blue-eyed musician and instead focusing on the problem in hand.

“Yeah?”

His voice sounds muffled and weird, which makes sense when you walk back into the living room and see his long body leaning towards a cabinet. It seems like his whole head is in there, and you can’t help but laugh at the sight of him, posture reminding you of an ostrich.

He tries to escape but bumps his head against the top of the cupboard, letting out a loud groan and a string of curses.

Perhaps it wouldn’t normally be this funny, but with the adrenaline pulsing through your body, you crack up with laughter. It doesn’t get better when his head finally escapes, cheeks painted with a deep red blush.

“Did you find any candles?” he questions, voice stern but with a tone of embarrassment as he changes the subject of attention away from his own clumsiness.

It surprises you how easy you find it to read him. You shouldn’t know him that well, you don’t.

So why do you immediately conclude that the way he scratches his neck and licks his lips mean he’s uncomfortable?

To be fair, those things could be explained by the fact that they are universal behavioural patterns, but that doesn’t reveal why you feel the sudden urge to hug him, or why you even notice them in the first place.

Weird

You remind yourself that he asked you a question, and that it’ll be even weirder if you just stand here in silence, so you clear your throat, “No, did you?”

He shakes his head, curls bopping lightly.

They look reallyyy soft

Wow, Y/N, get a grip

You curse yourself far away and the assure your very worried brain that these thoughts only are caused by the knowledge that Luke will probably be your only company for many hours to come and maybe also the fact that he looked kind of cute when he got flustered and clumsy and yeah, you’ve always had a thing for cute, clumsy boys tripping over themselves or something so it’s probably nothing more than that or anything to worry about.

You take a step back, so your upper thighs are pressed against the dining table. You jump up, bum now placed securely on the table and feet dangling back and forth.

You’ve spent enough time fawning over Luke’s pretty face now, you decide, and so, it’s time to address the concerning realization you made before.

“So, I just realized that it’s getting colder in here and that the heaters probably shut down along with the lights.”

Almost by cue, you shudder, goose bumps rising on your skin at the cold air.

“We should probably try to light the fireplace if we don’t want to freeze to death.”

You glance at Luke, trying to figure out how he receives your words. Fortunately, he seems to agree, nodding his head slightly which gives you the courage to continue.

“You look like a boy scout type, so if you do that, I’ll try to message our friends and assure them we’re OK, so they don’t get worried,” you pause, wrinkling your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “If the electricity is out, we can’t charge our phones.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes at you and immediately, he goes back to the Luke you’ve grown to hate.

Brilliant

“Outstanding observation, Ms. obvious,” he mocks you, and it makes you want to hit him.

Preferably in the balls so he’ll never get the chance to produce babies and make the world a worse place with his offspring.

Prick

“And also, did you just say that I look like a ‘boy scout’? First of all, that’s very prejudiced of you, and second of all, that’s certainly not what the beautiful blonde in my bed said this Tuesday morning.”

“Just shut up and do your job, Hemmings,” you command with a sigh, sliding down from the table while trying not to think about Luke and some pretty girl naked.

The thought makes your stomach churn, but it’s probably just the thought of your arch-enemy naked.

Disgusting

You grab your phone from the kitchen counter, relieved to find that there’s at least 20% back on it.

Finally, some good news

But while ignoring Luke’s quit mutterings about you being dominating and annoying as he throws wood into the hearth, you see your battery percentage fall to 12% and realise that you’ll have to be quick, ignoring the many calls and text from your friends.

“We’re snowed in but alright. electricity out so no phone charging. pls come back soon so we dont kill each other - luke and y/n”

You send the text to Ashton (figuring he’s the most responsible) just before your phone shuts down, screen turning black.

You sigh. No entertainment left besides Luke.

How fucking great

“Luke? How much battery does your phone have left?”

His gaze stays fixed on the hearth as he shrugs, back still turned towards you.

“Dunno. Think it’s on my bed.”

But to make things even worse, Luke’s phone is just as dead as your own. All contact to the outside world is cut off.

You sink down onto the floor, resting your face in your hand and trying to gather energy for this. Perhaps you should hide the knives somewhere or throw them out into the snow so none of you gets stabbed before the others get back.

“The fire’s looking fine, if my boy scout knowledge is anything to go from,” Luke mockingly announces, emphasising your former words.

There’s a pause where none of you say anything, only the low sound of snowflakes hitting the glass breaking the silence before he clears his throat, tone shifting to a softer one as he checks, “Hey, you’re ok?”

You can hear him come closer, the floor creaking beneath his feet. Then, you can feel his body right beside you, legs almost touching.

You look up, the worried expression on his face surprising you.

You swallow a lump in your throat and nod, “Yeah. Yeah, ‘m alright. Jus’ worried.”

He shoots you a small smile, one of the corners of his mouth more upwards than the other. It looks cute, actually, like he’s a young boy.

Oh God, Y/N, this need to stop

“It’ll be fine. The snow will be gone soon and then the others will come back,” he soothes.

You nod, biting your lip. You don’t dare to say anything, though, scared that you’ll cry if you do.

“Shame we don’t got any booze. Could ’ave been fun.”

You both chuckle.

“Yeah. It could,” you agree.

“What’s the plan now, scout leader?” he jokes, hitting your shoulder playfully with his.

“Think ‘s just called a scouter, Luke.”

He acts offended, mouth agape, “We’ve established that I’m the experienced scout here, so I think I’m right.”

You laugh at his exaggerated expression, “Alright, alright, boy scout. I think we should grab our mattresses and lay them in front of the fire to stay warm and then eat some leftovers.”

He salutes, standing up and exchanging his hand to you, helping you up as well.

You can’t help but notice how the air between you has changed, how none of you are annoyed by each other right now, and that he even comforted you.

It must be the weird circumstances you are in, and you must admit that it’s more tolerable to be stuck in the cabin if you’re on good terms with your “inmate”.

“See you in five,” he says as you walk out the door.

You turn your head, smiling and nodding at him before going to your room to move your mattress.

Turns out, mattresses are surprisingly heavy, and although sweat are beginning to appear on your forehead, you’ve only carried it a couple feet so far.

“Need help?” Luke offers, as he pops up in your door frame.

You’re about to snap at him, the exercise making you irritated and increase the risk of falling back into old habits, but then you take a deep breath and put on a forced smile, “‘s alright, I can do it myself.”

He starts laughing, especially when you grunt, out of breath, “Sure looks like it.”

The frosty stare you give him stops his laughter, though. “Alright, you may help,” you accept through gritted teeth.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he sarcastically agrees and rolls his eyes at you, but nonetheless grabs the farther end of the mattress and lifts it with ease.

Show-off

With Luke’s help, it doesn’t take long before your mattress is placed in front of the hearth, across from Luke’s.

“I’m gonna change into something more comfortable,” he announces, disappearing into his room, and you follow his lead, searching through your tiger-striped suitcase.

You settle on an old band shirt you stole from Michael once and a pair of black leggings that makes your ass look good.

Never hurts to look cute

But as you have stripped yourself of your jeans, bra and sweater, you suddenly hear a quiet voice behind you.

“Shit.”

You quickly pull the band shirt over your head and turn around, knowing that the fabric will cover you up from your neck to the top of your thighs.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” Luke gulps visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “Is that-” he clears his throat, “Is that my shirt?”

A breath gets stuck in your throat as you look down.

“No? It’s Michaels?” you deny, but it sounds like a question, and you realize that this might not be Michael’s old shirt after all. Actually, now that you think about it, you kind of remember Luke wearing it once.

Well done, Y/N

He chuckles awkwardly, scratching his neck.

“Um, no. That- that isn’t- that’s my shirt. I think I left it at Michael’s once and then couldn’t find it, so um, that’s probably why,” he rambles, cheeks pink.

You feel the blush on your own cheeks, heat rushing to your face.

Fucking great

“Do you- do you want it back now or?” you then question, not knowing why the prospect of letting go of the shirt seems even harder now that you know it’s his.

Fortunately, he shakes his head, “‘s alright, you can keep it. Don’t listen that much to them anymore, and it definitely looks better on you anyway.”

The last comment just turns his cheeks even more red.

“Thank you,” you mumble, looking down, “would you- would you mind? I still need to put on pants.”

He nods, whole face now painted red as he closes the door gently behind him.

Oh lord. Luke fucking Hemmings just saw you in nothing but panties

It takes you unusually long to put on the leggings, using the few extra minutes to get your brain and heart beat under control.

“Wanna get something to eat?” you ask once you’ve entered the living room, your voice clearly startling Luke as he jumps.

You laugh, and it only makes you laugh harder when he eyes you like you’re his next murder victim.

“Sure,” he grumpily agrees, standing up from the mattress.

How can he look so good in pyjamas? Unfair

He’s wearing grey sweatpants and the 5sos rose hoodie you’ve had your eyes on since the boys released their new merch, and he looks terribly cuddly.

“Is lukewarm lasagne our only option?”

You nod tiredly, grabbing the lasagne from the non-functioning fridge.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Almost-sour milk, coke completely void of fizz or Ashton’s weird cranberry juice?” you jokingly offer, talking like you’re a servant in a restaurant.

He chuckles, shaking his head, “Think I’ll stick with water.”

“Such a bore.”

“Oh, what are you gonna have, miss exciting-choice-of-drink?”

You slowly walk closer, sensually eyeing him and forcing yourself to pretend you’re trapped in a female version of Magic Mike.

“I’ve heard celebrity saliva taken directly from the source should be incredibly… tasty.”

You lick your lips, and he lifts his eyebrows with an amused expression

“Oh, you have?”

Why do you always do weird shit like this?

You lean closer, you lips only inches apart from Luke’s when you suddenly take a step back and speak with your normal voice, “Yeah. But not if it comes from arrogant, blond assholes, and I’m not taking any chances today.”

He laughs, “Yeah ‘cause I’m the arrogant one here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you question, sensing a small hint of truth although his joking tone.

He shrugs and looks at you like he doesn’t know if you’re being serious.

You think he’s going to say something when he swallows, but the silence continues until you’ve grabbed your plate with lasagne and gone back into the living room.

“Don’t think I’m letting you go this easily, Hemmings. I’m just too hungry to perform a full interrogation right now.”

You playfully point at him with your index-finger, but it only makes him rolls his eyes at you with a wry grin.

“Can’t you just decide if you wanna be a scout leader or a police officer?”

His reference to the earlier joke makes you laugh, the air between you now light and friendly in a way you’ve never experienced with Luke. On the contrary, with him, it’s always been hostile and tense. And to be honest, you don’t really know how to act around him when it isn’t.

You’re still deep in thought when the two of you sit down by the fire, soon feeling your skin tingle with warmth.

As you eat the food in silence and drink a bit of water (your choice of drink ended up being just as boring as Luke’s), your eyes fixate on the flames.

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it? The fire?” you whisper, your calm tone matching the feeling in your body.

There’s something about watching the fire that gives you peace. It’s amazing to watch how the flames are almost purple in the middle and then turn more orange at the ends.

“It is,” Luke mutters, sounding like he’s out of breath.

You turn your head and look at him to find him watching you instead of the flames. But as soon as your eyes meet his, he turns his gaze away.

Huh. Weird

You place the empty plate on the floor beside you, not having the energy to clean it right now.

“What time is it?” you ask, suddenly feeling kind of sleepy.

Luke looks around, eyes landing on the clock above the pistachio coloured armchair.

“About ten p.m.”

“It’s been a long day,” you yawn, not even embarrassed to be tired so early. It’s truly been an eventful day with skiing in the morning and then this mess with getting snowed in.

“Already tired of my great company?” he jokes, but you sense a tone of worry.

You shake your head with a tired smile, “Surprisingly not. You’re actually not that bad, Hemmings.”

“Wow, thank you. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he chuckles.

“Nooo it isn’t. I’m nice all the time,” you protest with a childish whine, sliding beneath the blanket and placing your head on the pillow with a content sigh. It feels good to be laying down, finally.

His cough is so overstated you immediately know it’s fake.

“Funny,” he states dryly.

You turn your head to look at him, trying to figure out if he’s joking.

“Aren’t I nice?” you then question, your genuinely worried tone seemingly surprising the blond.

“Well, you are right now. Still a pain in the ass, but nice enough,” he winks at you at his last words, and you throw a decorative pillow at him and giggle at the grimace he makes.

After a couple seconds, he elaborates, “But I dunno, nice isn’t really the word I’d use to describe your usual self. Not with me, at least.”

His last words are said lower than the rest, causing a hint of guilt to appear inside you.

You rest your head in your hands, elbows on the pillows.

“But you’re the one who isn’t nice!” you argue, and he looks at you with his eyes screwed up tightly.

“Only because you’ve been mean to me ever since we met.”

“What? I was mean to you? You started it!”

You realise how childish you sound, but it really is his fault.

Isn’t it?

“No, you did. Don’t you remember? Crys introduced us at that weird western bar, and you wouldn’t even talk to me the whole night, only the other guys.”

You can’t believe that his view on the night you met is so different from yours.

“I tried to! But every time I said anything to you, you looked at me like I was stupid and continued playing candy crush on your phone, and when-”

“I did not!” he cuts you off.

“Yes, you did! And I felt so rejected ‘cause I thought you were soooo hot and when I asked if anyone wanted to dance and looked at you only, you just grunted and left to get a drink!”

Fuck. You did not just say that

You did not just admit to Luke that you think he’s hot

He seems to have noticed, too, a smug grin playing on his pretty pink lips.

“You think I’m hot?”

“Thought. Past tense,” you dryly correct him, already growing annoyed at him again. Scratch everything you’ve though tonight about him not being as bad as you thought. He’s still an ass

“Sure about that, babe?”

His arrogant tone sets you off, making you abruptly stand up from your mattress.

“Don’t you fucking babe me, Hemmings. I’m not one of your goddamn groupies.”

Your words are spiteful, eyes blazing, and you enjoy seeing him squirm. He soon regains his confidence though, eyes cocky as they lock with yours.

“Just admit it, and I’ll show you a good time. We have all night, babe.”

You look at him with disbelief, and you see it in his face that he knows he’s crossed the line. Big time.

“I’d rather die, thank you.”

And you turn on your heel, ignoring his calls for you as you slam the door to your room behind you.

Normally, you’re down for weird, sexual jokes, but this one, with Luke, crosses the line. It’s a mix of tiredness, your low energy level making you react more extremely to things you wouldn’t be bothered by normally, and the fact that you finally bared yourself to Luke, and he was a dick about it.

To your own surprise, you feel your eyes turning wet.

You know you’re overreacting, and that it’s a stupid little thing, but when he knocks on your door, you still yell at him to go away.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t. Instead, he closes the door quietly behind him and walks over to where you sit on your bed.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. For being a dick. An utter, complete dick.”

You can’t help but laugh at his choice of words, but because you’re crying, it sounds more like a grunt.

“Can I sit down?” he then requests, voice apologetic and gentle.

You nod, trying to dry your eyes with the back of your hands.

“It’s alright,” you hiccup, “‘m just overreacting.”

He shakes his head, removing your hands from your face and taking them in his instead, “No, you’re not. I dunno why I said those things, but you have every right to be mad and hurt by it.”

Perhaps he’s not as big an idiot as you thought. Also, is it just you or are his hands really soft? Like, not soft-soft, because his fingertips are a bit rough, probably caused by playing guitar, but the warmth of his hands is really nice against yours

Shit, your emotions are a rollercoaster today. Must be the whole snowed-in thing

“‘s just been a weird day, I guess,” you assure him, when you’ve got your sobbing under control.

“It really has,” he giggles, and you’re surprised by how cute it sounds.

There are so many parts of him. The cocky, mean one he usually is around you. The confident, talented, charismatic one you’ve seen him transform into on stage. The beautiful, funny one you’ve met today along with the cute, clumsy one that’s also peaked up today.

You definitely like the two latter best.

“I’m already cold again. Can we go back to the hearth and forget this ever happened?”

He nods, relieved, and lets go of one of your hands when he stands up. However, he still has hold of one of them, guiding you back. It feels a bit sweaty, but you don’t mind. At all. Actually, it’s nice and gives you a calm feeling in your stomach. Like everything’s going to be ok, and your friends will reach you soon.

And like there’s a small part of you that hopes they won’t get here too fast.

But nobody needs to know that

He only lets you go once you’ve returned to your mattresses, but then you stand up again.

He looks at you like one big question mark, and if you weren’t so exhausted from all the crying and fighting and general weird things today, you would have laughed.

“I need to brush my teeth.”

He nods, standing up as well and following close behind you on the way to the bathroom.

Should you take his hand? You want to take it, but would it make things weird?

Before you’ve decided on anything, though, you’ve reached the bathroom.

“‘m jus’ gonna go get my toothbrush from the other bathroom,” he states, quickly disappearing and then reappearing just as fast.

You’re the first one to make a weird face in the mirror, causing him to crack up laughing and spit toothpaste on the mirror which only makes you laugh so hard you almost swallow all your own toothpaste. Then, it becomes a contest to see who can keep a straight face when the other makes a particularly ugly grimace.

When you’ve finally spit out in the sink, your body feels relaxed and your eyes shine with amusement.

This mess definitely hasn’t been as bad as you thought it’d be.

You both crawl underneath your blankets after he has put more fire in the hearth to prevent it from dying.

You pull the blanket up, so it rests right beneath your eyes, returning the stare he shoots you.

“This has been a surprisingly not-awful day,” he admits, words making you laugh.

His face is lit up by the fire, painting his face with golden light while his lower body is shadowed. The colour makes him look almost angelic, like a sunset. He’s even more beautiful than normally.

You just hope you don’t have to pee tonight, because the fire is your only source of light.

“Yeah. ‘s been alright, actually. The lasagne was shit, though.”

He chuckles, “True, but it was almost as shitty yesterday, though. Michael’s just a really bad cook.”

“You’re one to talk,” you tease, knowing that Luke is, by far, the biggest mess in a kitchen.

“Hey! I actually don’t burn toast anymore!”

You erupt into a fit of laughter, his faked hurt and angry expression only making you laugh harder.

“My- stomach- hurts-” you gasp, still laughing.

“I think you’re overtired,” he says, smiling wryly at you once you’ve finally calmed down.

His words make you yawn, and then he giggles.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispers, voice silky smooth.

“Goodnight, Luke.”

You close your eyes, still feeling the flames on your eyelids. It’s surprisingly nice to lay beside Luke, listening to his breathing and letting it lull you to sleep.

But just as you begin to drift up, Luke’s low voice wakes you, “Y/N? You awake?”

You release a yawn, eyes fluttering open.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

The silence takes over for a few seconds, before he continues, voice low and unsure, “What if we never get out?”

His words make you wake up completely, heart skipping a beat at the vulnerable tone of his voice. He, who always sounds so sure, now needs your assurance. Before today, you probably wouldn’t have granted it to him, but now, everything feels different.

“We will, Luke. I promise.”

You try to make your voice sound as sure and stern as possible and hope it helps him. In reality, none of you can promise anything related to the weather. You can just hope. But deep inside, you have a feeling this won’t get too serious. That your friends will save you soon, and that removes the fear.

“No, but what if we die in here? We don’t have wood or food enough for weeks. Perhaps a couple days, but not weeks.”

He sounds like a little boy scared of monsters, and your heart clenches at the sound. You don’t know him well enough to decide what will comfort him best, if he needs a touch or words or to talk about something else.

“I promise we’ll be fine,” you try, voice soothing, but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. And it is scary, but you can’t really do anything but try to think of something else. Besides, you don’t remember hearing about anyone dying after being snowed in. Worst case, you’ll probably be stuck inside for a couple days and then come out, just a little hungry and tired. At least you won’t be dehydrated with all the snow.

“‘m just so scared. I don’t wanna die in here, Y/N,” he cries out, voice trembling.

Words apparently don’t help him much, so you decide to try a different path.

You lift off your blanket and pat the empty space on your mattress. He tilts his head, probably trying to figure out if you’re serious or not. He seems to decide your expression looks sincere and crawls away from his mattress to yours, sitting down at the verge of it.

He seems unsure of what to do with himself, lanky legs hitting his own mattress as he stretches them out.

“Lay down,” you mutter, watching him grow even more tense before he lays down his back, whole body stiff.

Have you crossed the line? Is this too much?

You decide to put the doubting thoughts to the back of your head and instead just ask him.

“Is this alright?” you question as you gently turn him around to face you.

He nods, Adam’s apple bobbing lightly. His blue eyes lock with yours, the usual icy colour softened and warmed by the flames. Now, they look like a cloudless summer sky.

You reach out, tucking a curl behind his ear. His breath hitches in his throat when your fingertips come in contact with the soft skin behind his ear, index finger lightly tracing down.

You don’t realize you’ve held your own breath as well before he suddenly, like snapping out of trance, reaches out and tugs you closer. His arm drapes across your hip, hand pressed against the swell of your back, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

As you lay there and look at each other, legs touching, warm breaths colliding and his fingers gently caressing your back, you can see how his breathing pattern slows, and he calms down until it almost sounds like he’s asleep.

You can’t help but look at him, take in every small detail of his appearance.

His curls are a frazzled mess, but he is still beautiful. So unfairly beautiful and cuddly and gorgeous, pale skin contrasting to the grey of his hoodie.

Without thinking, you grab the string coming from neck of the fabric, considering pulling it and strangling him a little, but then deciding to put up his nose instead.

He throws his head back at the sudden sensation, then laughing.

“Weirdo,” he mutters, but his tone sounds so affectionate you feel your heart skip a beat.

He then grabs a tuft of your hair and places it over your lips, creating a moustache. You pout your lips and enjoy the way he laughs, eyes squeezed shut and dimples clear on his cheeks.

You’ve never really been close enough to him to properly see the freckles that adorn his face, but this close, they only add to his charm.

Everything about him does

“Your eyes are really blue,” you state.

Why the fuck do you say stupid stuff like that? You and your big mouth

He chuckles, a content smile on his lips even after the laughter have died down.

“And yours are really pretty,” he sheepishly compliments you, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

Stupid hormones

“’m really glad you think I’m hot, Y/N,” he admits, referring to your earlier confession.

“I thought we were done talking ‘bout that!” you protest, hitting his chest lightly and hiding your face in the grey fabric of his hoodie.

“You didn’t let me finish, wombat,” he jokes, repeating his earlier ‘nickname’ for you and gently pushing you away from his chest so you’re facing each other again.

However, his tone has shifted majorly, the playful one gone and replaced by a more serious, perhaps even nervous one, “I’m glad you think I’m hot, Y/N. Because, ever since the day I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how stupidly pretty and funny and amazing you are,” he pauses, visibly swallowing, “And it absolutely killed me that you always seemed to hate me.”

“You did act like an asshole, though,” you remind, earning a small nervous chuckle from him.

He bites his lip, seemingly awaiting your answer.

“But I’ve felt the same way. And today, I dunno, it’s been nice. We’ve spent so much time hating each other, but I really hope we can stay friends after this.”

Friends

You taste the word, feeling it turn bitter on your tongue. You don’t want to be just friends with Luke.

He retreats a bit, looking hurt and insecure and rejected, and it makes your skin itch. The tall, broad man across you shrinks to a little nervous boy under your eyes, and you hate it. You hate that you’ve somehow made him uncomfortable, and you hate that you hate it so much. But what you hate the most is the fact that you can no longer hide the fact that Luke is fascinating to you. And that you care for him.

“Yeah,” he mutters, biting his lip and looking down, “Friends.”

“Have I said something wrong?” you whisper, slowly stretching out your hand to touch his chest through the soft fabric.

Your fingertips trace light patterns on it as a breath hitches in his throat.

“Think it’ll kill me to be just friends with you, to be honest,” he admits, voice thick and vulnerable.

The confession makes your cheek heat up, matching the warmth that spreads through your stomach, but there’s still a doubting voice in the back of your head reminding you that this man despised you until a couple hours ago. And if his negative feelings through years can change this fast, these new positive one can as well.

You think your heart will break if that happens.

“We don’t even know each other, though. This is the first time we’ve even talked,” you argue, voice week and unsure. Because, damn, you want to give in, to melt into his touch, his lips, and bury your hands in his curly locks and feel his warm breath on your neck and-

Wow, Y/N, calm down

“Dunno ‘bout you, but I’ve been watching you for years,” he starts, eyes suddenly widening, “In a very non-stalkery way, I swear!”

You giggle, getting his point but still liking the way he trips over his own words. It’s adorable.

He clears his throat, shooting you a small tentative smile.

“‘m just trying to say that I know you, Y/N, at least a bit. I know you like waking up a bit early, even on weekends, so you have the whole day in front of you. I know you like making sarcastic remarks and that you write in your spare time. I know you like experimenting with clothes and hairstyles, that you used to be a fan before you met us, that you draw real’ shitty and that you did a lot of sport before moving here.”

You can’t believe he’s picked up on so many things.

“I probably know a lot more about you, and there’s surely twice as much I don’t know, but ‘m just sayin’ that I want to get to know you. And that everything I’ve learned so far has only made me like you more.”

You don’t think after that. Instead, you move your head forward in one swift movement, clearly catching Luke off guard when you press your lips against his. However, he quickly catches up and moves his mouth in sync with yours, letting your tongue part his lips and swirl around his own. It’s a hungry, almost aggressive kiss, and you fight for dominance while rolling around so you’re straddling him.

He tastes like toothpaste with a hint of lasagne, and his lips are a little chapped but feel amazing against yours.

If someone had told you just hours again that this would happen, you would have shaken your head and called them insane. Now, the only one you’d consider calling that is yourself for not doing this sooner.

Why have you been so stupid?

“Wow,” he mutters when you part, smiling sheepishly and biting his lip. You watch as it turns pink when his teeth let go, barely fighting the urge to be the one to bite them instead.

“Before I kiss you again, I’ll just say that I second everything. And that you won’t get rid of me anytime soon, little scout.”

You pinch his cheek at your last words, making him laugh, teeth spread in a tired, happy grin. His fingers slip under your (or perhaps you should say his) shirt and bury themselves into the soft skin beside your hips which causes you to hiss and then kiss him feverishly.

He gently shoves you away to look at you with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

“You could’ave just told me you were into roleplay, scout leader,” he teases with a wink.

“Shut up and kiss me, stupid boy scout.”

He follows orders and lifts his head to reach your lips, nails dipping deeper into your skin in the process. In response, you reach under his hoodie and place your hand on his stomach, feeling the warm skin on his defined abs.

Your hands trail all over his abdomen, living out fantasies you’ve hidden for the past many years as you feel him tense under your touch, muscles flexing and growing harder.

But it’s not enough for you.

You break the kiss apart once more to pull at the hoodie, waiting for him to lift his back and head off the mattress so you can remove it completely.

First, he looks questioningly at you, until the tug at the bottom of the fabric finally makes sense to him and the inquiring expression turning into an excited one.

When he’s finally shirtless, a shadow of insecurity dances across his face for just a few moments.

“Could look at this forever,” you praise him, seeing how he relaxes and untenses at your comment.

“‘s not fair ‘m the only one not wearing a shirt,” he murmurs, winking cheekily at you.

“Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He mutters something under his breath, Adam’s apple bobbing and his swallowing visible. Then, he grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts it up, cursing when it gets stuck.

You giggle before wiggling out of it, cheeks heating up under his eyes that fixate on your breasts as you throw it across the floor.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back so the prominent vein on his neck becomes even more visibly. “You’ll be the death of me, sweetheart.”

You can’t control the smile that creeps onto your face at the nickname, leaning down to kiss him again, chest pressed against his. His tongue explores your mouth, gracing over your teeth, and you moan at the sensation before he-

“We’re back guys! Hope you’re both alive!” Ashton yells, sounding like he jumps the three feet from the front door to the living room where you and Luke lie.

“Fuck, shit, fuck, damn, shit,” Luke swears, looking at you with wide eyes but besides that lying almost frozen in his position.

“Where you’re hidin- oh.”

Ashton stops in his tracks, eyeing you with wide eyes, clearly taken back. Then he turns around, trying to give you privacy as you search for a least something to cover your upper body.

“Don’t come in here, guys! They’re not exactly safe for work,” Ashton yells, chuckling along with his last words.

Lame

You gain hold of Luke’s grey hoodie, pulling it over your head as fast as possible. Your cheeks are basically burning, and when you look at Luke who’s now sitting up after you’ve rolled down from him, his whole upper chest is painted pink, the colour going all the way up his neck to his face.

“You can look now,” you assure them, trying to raise your voice but feeling it wavering.

Ashton slowly turns around and the others step in, eyeing you carefully and puzzled.

“What’s going on?” Crystal softly asks, cocking her head to the side and then noticing Luke’s bare torso and how you both are blushing messes. “Have you? Did you?” She starts, clearly not knowing what to think.

And you get it. You really do. When they left, not more than seven hours ago, you were begging her to take you with them so you wouldn’t have to spend time with Luke and now, they’ve caught you red-handed.

“Whose shirt is this? Pretty sure I’ve seen both of you wearing it,” Calum asks, holding up the band tee you discarded not more than five minutes ago. “Have this been going on for some time?”

You quickly shake your head, “No! No, nothing’s happened between us, I swear!”

You look at Luke through the corner of your eye, seeing the way he tenses at your words, and you curse yourself far away.

Well done, Y/N

“I’m gonna go put on a shirt,” Luke mutters, standing up and walking out of the room with his head bowed.

You decide to follow him, running after him like a lost puppy as you yell, “Luke, please wait! I didn’t- Luke, just wait, let’s talk!”

He stops in the hallway, looking back at you over his shoulder. It seems like he’s debating whether to hear you out or not, but then he bites his lip before walking into his room, letting the door stay open.

You take it as an invite to come in and gently close the door behind you, leaning against its cold frame.

“That came out wrong, ‘m sorry.”

He snorts, rummaging through his suitcase and then throwing on a plain black shirt. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Luke, I meant everything I said today. This has changed everything between us and I’m glad it has, but I still need to adjust to it, and I just didn’t know if this was the right time to tell everything to our friends.” You walk away from the door, stepping closer to him and lowering your voice when you continue, “I think I just wanted to enjoy it myself before having to share it with anyone.”

He finally smiles, but still doesn’t look 100% convinced. It’s funny, how you until today thought he was this overly confident and self-assured prick while he’s just as insecure and self-doubting as any other at the age of twenty-something.

“But you’re right. I don’t think we have a choice but to tell them. And perhaps it’s better anyway, to get it over with now instead of dealing with it later.”

“Later? You mean?”

You nod, smiling. “I told you, Luke. You’re not getting rid of me.”

You kiss him, this time gently and carefully, trying to savour the feeling of his lips against yours and the way you can smell his cologne along with a little hint of sweat and musky boy.

“Unless you want to, of course,” you quickly add, causing him to shake his head.

“They deserve to wait a couple minutes, don’t they?” he whispers, looking at your eyes and then down at your lips. And then he kisses you again, and you can’t believe how it still feels just as amazing as it did the first time.

Yeah. No harm in letting them wait a little.

92 notes · View notes

lacktastrophe · 6 years ago

Note

Do you know why Lucy is being mean to everyone around her?

Lucy doesn’t believe any of them are actually friends.

Back around Love Again, Lucy gives the impression to Augustus that none of them will be willing to be friends with her once they find her hanging out around him.

That’s not really the case though as in the most recent chapter the more persistent of Lucy’s friends; notably Sue, hasn’t been deterred from Augustus’ presence, so long as it means she gets to hang out with Lucy and try to be friends again. Lucy appeared to know this much far ahead of the curve. So, Lucy has been cutting ties to people. She was notably direct with Mike and Paulo, but for the ones who are more difficult to sever because of how cordial they’ve been towards her in the past, she’s trying to make them sever ties with her.

How do we figure that?

Lucy’s been resoundingly mean to them and the people around them to appear less desirable to be around. She’s making this outing with Sue as uncomfortable as it can be for her in particular; the dress is a reminder of her muck-up and the thing she feels guilty towards, and Augustus being around them is the icing on the cake.

Okay, but how do we figure that, and that Lucy hasn’t been this total bitch this whole time?

Lucy has shown abrasive, prickly and violent behavior towards the others in the past as far back in Volume 1, whether it was between Mike’s teasing, Paulo’s unwarranted advances, or Tess overstepping her boundaries, every other time Lucy would either appear uninterested in what was going around her and neutral to the group’s larger problems - unless it threatened her too. Lucy appeared to only react in defense when someone had actually wronged her or made her uncomfortable. Lucy has never been outwardly as extroverted and mean to people directly unless she was provoked to be, and never in a near-permanent state like she’s been recently. Lucy’s avoidance of returning back to the kind of person she was regarding open use of violence when David asked to be punched seems to support that.

It’s a question whether the comment Lucy told Amaya in It’s all in the mind was initially being sincere or a snark, but in either case Lucy relents when she realises she’s made Amaya uncomfortable.

A full-bitch-mode Lucy wouldn’t have even bothered with an apology. She only seems to have a grudge against her closer group. I figure it was something that ‘slipped out’.

Lucy is attempting to reintegrate at her school and appear amicable, but she doesn’t seem to be wanting to hang out with the same people as she had before which is the reason she’s avoidant of the lunch table and only willing to hang out with Augustus behind the school. Not to mention, if she wanted to be a real bitch, she could always drag Augustus to the table with her. But she hasn’t yet, nor would I think she would unless it was her last resort. She just wants her ‘friends’ to leave her alone while leaving everything else intact, her slip-up with Amaya before may have been unintentional of getting to use to being a narc.

Why entertain Sue then, why not just say no and close the door?

I’m under the belief Lucy’s doing the same thing to Sue as she did to Paulo during After you, she’s entertaining the notion of them hanging out before Lucy finds a good enough reason to make them want to stay away from her. Although, it seems it might take a while as Sue isn’t appearing to call it a day despite having the play rubbed in her face. She’s putting up with everything, so it’ll go as long as it needs to until Sue eventually has enough or Lucy says something that makes her change her mind, just like when Mike grew to have had enough of Lucy’s attitude. Sue will either grow to accept this Lucy, with a chance that Lucy will take her back, or Sue will question whether being friends with someone so testy has its benefits when she has better friends who treat her with respect. But I figure Lucy has made her choice.

During it’s all in the mind, Lucy didn’t reciprocate Sue’s apology, she changed the subject. Lucy had changed the subject before when Sue asked what the real reason she left them all was. She is not willing to part with any information.

The story she gave about the pets might not be right.

The meanest thing Lucy probably did on that day was act like she didn’t hear Sue at all.

Lucy is deaf in her left ear.

Lucy is under the belief all of her friends aren’t really her friends. She’s led herself to believe this despite months and months of adventures and memories with her current friends when she becomes traumatised, when Mike - the first person who took her in without questioning anything there was to do with her, her first real friend - tells her to her face she’s unlikable, a parasite; all of her friends would sooner ditch her in a second if they had a choice between Mike and her.

That combined with a nightmare soon after when Lucy follows Augustus back to his home in Escape Plan when realising Augustus is involved with Alejandro, Lucy can’t help but dream back to that time, and to when her friends said some pretty awful things about her.

The events of confrontation never really appeared to leave Lucy despite her strong exterior; Lucy had been traumatised by that experience, having nearly been killed.

Taking all of that on, along with the things her friends have said to her back then, and the way her friends have involved themselves in her life and thrown her out of her comfort zone…Lucy’s come to the idea that what Mike has said was true; they were likely never her friends to begin with. There was always an ulterior motive.

Daisy

It’s weird when someone, a friend invites you to a birthday party.

Your birthday party, at their house.

Lucy has historically never been big into parties, although she only cared about one thing during them; Mike’s affirmation of her special day. As well intended as this tried to be; Daisy overstepped her boundaries a bit.

Daisy’s freakout when Lucy acknowledges she’s allowing Augustus to stay at her family’s house doesn’t sit well for Daisy, especially when Daisy gets jealous because the only boy who’s openly shown an interest for her is staying at the place of a person who had always been considered popular with the boys at schools; Lucy, ripping up old wounds from the past where Daisy resented Lucy because of her popularity, particularly with Mike..

Lucy is reminded of the past and freaks out herself, shouting she didn’t want any of it.

In reality though, despite this envious towards Lucy’s popularity, Daisy became more of a friend when Lucy defended them in the Alleyway, Daisy would never say something bad about Lucy until Happy Hour when she says they all should have stood up against each other’s toxic habits. And until It’s all in the mind when the bandaid was ripped off.

But Daisy really does want to get along with Lucy, maybe seeing her like a sister.

Paulo

Lucy and Paulo had never gotten along in Volume 1. She initially had a crush on Paulo but after he received ‘confidence lessons’, Paulo ruined his chances when he drew Lucy’s ire by unknowingly acting as seedy as some of the older kids who tried to hit up Lucy before, an insecurity Lucy never made transparent under that shell of hers. She never liked that attention, as she shouted towards Daisy at the end of It’s all in the mind.

Paulo persisted in his shenanigans expecting that in time Lucy would come around. Instead, Paulo would find himself distracted by Tess, only to be dumped and told they’ll never be a pair. When David wonders if he can go back to just chasing after Lucy Paulo is unsure if he could following his heartbreak, because he already knew that Lucy only cared for Mike, not him.

After being dumped by Tess, Paulo would instead find himself becoming closer to Lucy as a friend when Mike rejects’ Lucy’s confession and would end up being a rebound. Paulo’s best chance at a happy end with Lucy would be tarnished when he ruins her trust following David’s pressure to get back into picking up chicks, and getting into a relationship with Jasmine.

Despite Paulo being involved in a relationship, Lucy still retains some deep feelings, as can be seen in Mischief Night. After Mike tells her all of her friends would ditch her, and Paulo would follow Daisy wherever she goes, Lucy tries to tide Paulo over backstage during the play by giving him what he was after originally. But Lucy can’t help but think that’s made her out to be no different to Jessica. When Paulo tells her it doesn’t matter, she tells Paulo he shouldn’t be so forgiving. She needs to drill it into him that they wont ever be a couple during the carnival.

Lucy probably expected that Paulo wouldn’t come around looking for her again and that was it; their friendship ended amicably, except it hadn’t, especially when Paulo stumbles upon her and Augustus by accident. Paulo gets no answers as to why she’s avoiding them, and when realising he’s been taken advantage of, Paulo tells Lucy how hurtful it is. Given Lucy’s expression at the end of that, it’s likely she didn’t expect it to go like that. If there was ever a chance of that relationship being repaired, it probably wont be easy.

Sue

I’ve felt like I’ve already said enough about Sue already (I know, right?). Interestingly Sue was not bought up when Mike was saying how he would not be alone if they had to choose between Lucy or Mike. It’s probable that Sue would have chosen Lucy, or likely split herself between them. But Lucy had reason to believe otherwise despite what Mike said.

Sue had known Mike from Kindergarten and like all the other girls in their grade she had a liking for Mike as well. It’s possible that Sue held some resentment for Lucy since the only chance she had to get with Mike would end up failing thanks to Yashy, and any further chances be impeded because Mike couldn’t be seen anywhere without Lucy, Mike thought he had to be there for him and therefore wouldn’t make time. Sue had shown some issue with Lucy’s popularity as seen in Out of the Frame.

Sue wasn’t interested in getting too involved with Mike and Lucy’s drama during Confrontation, instead more worried that their drama would jeopardise their report, and seeming less sympathetic towards her for it.

But in reality, Sue would turn to be a closer friend to Lucy especially when the table comes to know about the existence of Sandy, as Sue becomes sympathetic as no one else does, letting Lucy know Mike isn’t her only friend in the world. Sadly, Sue would ruin this much sooner; Sue would take on a lot of the functions that Tess had during Volume 1 by choosing to get involved with Lucy’s life, and trying to make Lucy break out of that shell. She does that by making a play with the intention of trying to bridge the connection between Mike and Lucy by forcing them to work together. While it was made for good intentions and succeeds in the end by having them both reconcile, Lucy is not at all please to be forced into having to deal with Mike.

But Lucy also needs to sing, something she is not comfortable doing in public.

Lucy doesn’t technically refuse at the opportunity as it allows her to be with Mike again, just like old times despite appearances she’s at wits end, and she deals with the play. But at the end of it all, Lucy might believe she was a means to an end; a way for Sue to get good marks.

I figure if there was a chance for redemption, Sue should have received it when she apologised for Lucy for not being empathetic towards her desire to be simply left alone. Lucy looks as if she’s made a huge mistake.

But Lucy’s made her mind up about whether Sue could be telling her the truth or not.

It’s going to be interesting to see how the recent chapter plays out.

Sue is really trying to be a real friend this time and not the kind of person in the past. She’s doing what she can to salvage her friendship.

Mike

There are a lot of things wrong with Mike and Lucy’s relationship. Mike is often shown to be receiving the shit-end of the stick in their relationship as Lucy’s tsundere personality is really not at all cute (go figure); young Lucy has serious problems; she can’t really convey her emotions appropriately and she’s very violent to be around. Mike got his own back in various ways enough to hurt Lucy’s feelings.

We’re introduced to difficulties existing in their relationship when not initially seeing Lucy behind them, Mike tell Paulo and Daisy what he really thinks of her. He has doubts about their friendship. Mike’s under the impression he has to be there for her, because if he’s not there, she’ll be alone like she was in the past.

Their relationship is mended by the end when Mike defends Lucy against Alejandro, and Mike overhearing things that Lucy says about her friends and him in her last stand. But those feelings are overridden when at some point, Mike tells Sandy about some of the negative things about Lucy, leading to Mike being unable to reciprocate her confession and attempt to distance himself from her. Things between them get progressively worse as Lucy tries to find someone else to be closer to, each person whether Paulo or Augustus drawing ire from Mike. Eventually, Mike tells her he hates her and never liked her, and nobody would ever love her for the person she really is inside, as he did in December. That’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back, Lucy becomes withdrawn, and decides to leave Roseville.

Upon her return, Mike attempts to repair the bridge of their friendship having realised he was the one responsible for causing her to turn towards suicide and is guilty over it. Likely also wanting things to go back to the way they were in the past, but Lucy is ambivalent at the idea, coming to the realisation that Mike only wanted something to do with her so long as it concerned Sandy.

Lucy is justified in terminating this friendship; the two of them were terrible friends to each other. We’d seen a lot of occasions where Lucy was cold and hurtful towards Mike, but Mike would use Lucy like a security blanket and at times a stand-in replacement for Sandy. The problem is, having terminated this relationship and having Mike prove her point by telling her Sandy is not the problem may have fueled her to think the same about being right about her other relationships too.

….This wasn’t supposed to turn into a megapost….

#bittersweet candy bowl #bcb #I am only to blame as I got bored tonight.

38 notes · View notes

irwinkitten · 6 years ago

Text

edge of tonight | m.c

requested: yes pairing: michael x reader prompt: everyone is born colourblind and once you meet your soulmate everything can be seen in colour notes: blame the girls on blamelukeforeverything the Lashton Network for this one. I’m inspired and they helped pick the prompt. this is an entire fluff fest and i refuse to be sorry because i am soft tonight. have fun with your hearts word count: 1.7k

---

You’d been told stories all your life about the person who would bring colour into your life, literally.

Your parents had almost drilled into you everything they could find about soulmates, about how you’d remain colourblind until you met the one person fate had deemed your other half.

Over the years, people had questioned why this was such a thing. Many looked to the Greek Mythology on Soulmates, about how the Androgynous children of the moon -those that had four arms, four legs, two hearts and both male and female genitalia - were deemed too powerful by Zeus and were split in half, only for Apollo to sew them up, leaving the longing of their other half as a reminder of what had been lost. It was said that when the two found each other, there was an unspoken understanding of one another, that they’d feel unified and would lie with each other in unity and would know no greater joy than that.

There were others who held no faith in the Greek Mythology and instead believed that God created androgynous souls—equally male and female. Later theories speculated that the souls split into separate genders. Over a number of reincarnations, each half seeks the other.

Many theories had been thrown around and studied, but no one could really understand why colour was the biggest factor in finding the soulmate. Many believed it to be fate, making sure you found the right soulmate, because so many believed there were different varieties of soulmates.

Although your parents had taught you all they could, and you’d learned as much possible, the childish fantasies that had been romanticised in your mind came to an earth shattering crash when you realised that meeting your soulmate, unless you travelled the world, was going to be impossible.

No matter how much you had pleaded with your parents, they couldn’t justify sending you around the world on a possibility, so it led you to working every hour under the sun, saving up as much money so when you felt ready, you would travel the world to find your soulmate.

Many of your friends had laughed and called you silly, but as they got older with you and found their own, they began to understand why you’d felt desperate.

It was a sad subject when you’d asked them how it felt to find their other half. They could not only see colours, but it was like the world shifted just a little bit, your entire body feeling new emotions and giving you that sense that you felt utterly complete.

Despite the lack of colour in your life, you had surged ahead in school, only to find that the programs you wanted to join, couldn’t accept colour blind students. So instead of attending University, you worked different jobs.

Your current job was in a record store which doubled as a small cafe that had a little reading nook.

More often than not, you could be found on your breaks, curled up in the corner of the cafe on a plush beanbag, a book in hand as you ready all kinds of books.

You always steered away from the romantic ones, the ache in your chest always more prominent when you read those types of books.

Your boss, Scott, never said anything about your habit, you were one of the best employees he’d ever had. You covered every shift you could, your organisation of the records was meticulous and you kept track of every sale you made.

On the slower days, you remained behind the counter with a book, your eyes always tracking when the door opened.

It was one of the days when rain was pouring down and people weren’t venturing into the town.

Scott stuck his head around the door frame and whistled, causing your head to shoot up from your book and he grinned at the scowl you gave him.

“Was there a reason for frightening me?” Came the sarcastic barb and he laughed, his lips still twisted into the cheesiest grin.

It took a further ten seconds before you relented and smiled back.

“It’s a quiet day with the bad weather. I was going to order some lunch for us both since it’s not likely to get that busy any time soon.”

“Please tell me it’s going to be better than whatever you tried to get me to eat last time?” The plea made him sigh in response.

“You know it was only because i was being forced to try that diet with my ex.” His explanation ended in a whine and you smirked.

“Yeah well, look how well that went for you.” The retort was playful and Scott knew it, but he still threw one of cushions at you, making you duck and laugh.

“Listen, do you want food or not?”

“Depends. What did you have in mind?”

“Pizza.” At this, you laughed.

“You really had to ask me if I wanted pizza? Man you must’ve hit your head or something. You go order and get our food, I can man the shop by myself.” You gestured around and he grinned before coming out from the office, collecting the travel mug sat beneath the counter, ruffling your hair as he did so.

“I’ll even get you a coffee. I’ll be as quick as possible.” You hummed in acknowledgement before returning your attention to the book as the door opened and closed, the shop falling into silence once more.

It only took five minutes before boredom had set in, so you plugged your phone into the sound system, clicking shuffle on the work playlist you’d created and began to move about the store, re-checking the already neat records.

As each song played, you found yourself dancing and singing along, an excited rush filling you as Fleetwood Mac’s Everywhere began playing and you couldn’t help yourself as you danced and sang along.

The sound of the music had masked the sound of the door opening, so you had missed the group of four boys stood in the doorway, all of them slightly damp, each of them wearing grins as they watched you.

Halfway through the song, you finally noticed them and yelped in shock before hurrying over to the system to turn it down, only then did the four of them offer a round of applause, making you blush.

“Sorry! I hadn’t heard the door.” You glanced up before freezing. One of the biggest bands in the charts were stood in the store, looking dishevelled yet amused and you felt your cheeks grow even warmer.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N.” The boys had moved further into the store and fanned out as you came from behind the counter. Ashton spoke up first.

“I’m Ashton, that’s Calum, Luke and Michael. We were dropping by to see if you’d have some older records at all?”

The question had gone over your head by this point because when you looked to Michael as he lifted his hand to greet you, the colours exploded and your heart began to pick up in shock as you tried to take in the biggest change of your life.

“Holy shit.” Michael whispered as his own eyes began searching the colours of the store that had clearly come to life for him.

Your eyes kept meeting his as you took in the colours, tears in the corners of your eyes as you tried to desperately take everything in whilst he moved closer to you.

“Mike?” Calum’s voice broke through your shock induced awe and you nearly jumped in shock when you realised how close Michael actually was.

“Holy shit.” He repeated more softly, his fingers lifting to brush your cheeks softly. When his fingers connected with your skin, you felt the shift that everyone had described, you heart flooding with every positive emotion.

“Guys, meet my soulmate.” He whispered in shock as the first tears fell.

The other three had fallen silent in shock and you couldn’t help yourself as you lifted your own hand, your fingers trailing across his jaw and almost instinctively, his head dipped so that your palm was against his cheek.

Tears were rolling down relentlessly now, you could feel your heart in your chest, pounding away and you felt certain the other boys could hear it as well.

“It’s a good job we’ve got today off, we can ask John to run through the stage lights so you don’t get overwhelmed Mike. And it’s nice to welcome you to the madhouse.” Ashton finally spoke and you turned your head, unable to forma response, your words stuck in the back of your throat.

The door opened once more, and your focus shifted to Scott who came in and paused, taking in the strange scene.

He took one look at your face and a broad grin crossed his lips and you could finally see the absurd colour in his hair.

“Orange doesn’t suit you Scott.” Was the first thing you said and he laughed as he went and placed the pizza on the counter.

“We need to give these two some time, do you guys want to take a look at our little reading nook?” You could’ve hugged Scott right there, he was allowing you both a moment of peace.

Once the sounds of the boys trooping away had quietened, you turned your attention back to Michael, your eyes taking in his features as a grin broke across his lips.

“Hi soulmate.” He whispered and before you could even say anything, he was kissing you.

And his lips felt like heaven.

It felt like everything locked into place in that moment and you finally understood the missing piece that had felt missing for so long.

Your fingers threaded themselves into his hair as he pulled you closer, your body pressed up against him and you could feel more tears escaping.

He felt like home.

When you pulled away from each other, his forehead resting against yours, a small giggle escaping as your brain finally caught up with the entire situation.

“Would you like to stay for some pizza and work this out?” The question had left your lips before you could really consider it, knowing that Scott wouldn’t mind.

“For you? Anything.”

tag list: @softxirwins, @plainwhiteluke, @calumspeachy, @babylonshood, @pumpkincalum, @blameiuke, @themuseumnights, @lovelettercalum, @astroashtonio, @catchingklaus, @modelukes, @qualitylu, @irwinofficial

380 notes · View notes

alternativewinxcontinuity · 6 years ago

Text

Winx Alt Con Season 02 Recap:

Previously: season 01, Weeks 9.2, 10/11, 12, 13, 14

Week 15: Episodes 212, 213, (partial) 214, 215

With two out of four magical macguffins missing, The Winx convince a few of the older students to help them train after classes. One of the students wants them to focus on thinking outside the square, using what they know from a sideways perspective.

She takes them down to the Magical Reality Chamber and sends them in, telling them to trying finding new ways to combine their powers, every trick they have in their arsenal, is one step further away from defeat.

Plus it's a great way to learn things you didn't know about your abilities.

With the pixies watching from the control room, the older student boots up the MRC.

The Winx are faced with an unusual, and somewhat hostile world, their enemy though, is a single large beast. The girls begin by flinging magic at it, but the monster only grows in size.

They dodge its attacks while they strategize, coming up with an idea that might work. Remembering what they'd been told about magical and physical immunities rarely overlapping, the girls swap in and out, distracting the monster while the build a titan of their own to beat the monster in combat.

Aisha crafts the body's base out of morphix, Flora gives it a skeletal system of wood and vines, adding in some hair just because it happened that way. Stella gives it eyes to see, Tecna and Bloom give it a brain and free will/intuition, and then Musa steps in.

The fairy of music gives the titan the ability to hear and speak, but Musa can also hear discord in their titan's being. She steps up and finds a way to harmonize the various magics, so the titan doesn't fall apart.

Once complete, the titan goes on the offensive and beats the monster soundly, ending the simulation.

The older student runs the simulation applauds them, then asks what they plan to do with their new friend, since the titan hasn't dissolved. Uncertain, the group calls down Faragonda, who takes several moments to be flabbergasted by what the girls have done, creating an artificial, magical life form. (not unheard of, but not typically first year magic, even by accident.)

The titan, being both sentient and sapient, is alive, and none of the fairies want to kill it/her, so Faragonda offers to let the titan stick around and figure out what she wants to do.

(The titan later takes up the name Titania, and can often be seen playing with Kiko and the pixies, or helping Knut maintain the grounds around Alfea.)

Later in the week, Bloom finds Faragonda and talks to her about the break in at her mother's flower shop several weeks prior. Vanessa has gotten in contact with Bloom because a court date is coming up. Bloom is hoping to get the day off to be with her mother for it. Faragonda allows it, as long as Bloom doesn't go alone.

(Bloom mentions Earth's/California's truancy laws, and Faragonda writes up several 'day passes' for Bloom and the Winx.)

Musa and Tecna decline going, mentioning they've been talking with some people from Magix and the other schools, and have decided to help out with the concert the Magix council wants to host, to celebrate the last of the repairs in the city. (things go a lot faster with magical assistance.)

Aisha volunteers her assistance with the concert, and Bloom wishes them luck. Stella says she would help, but she wants to support Bloom, the girls agree Stella can step in later, and that supporting their friend is important too. Flora chooses to go with Bloom and Stella to Earth. The pixies all choose to stick with their respective fairies.

On Earth, the trio of fairies spend the day with Vanessa, who is thrilled to meet Flora, a fellow plant lover. The girls are confused to realise Vanessa and Mike (who is also there to support his wife during the trial) can't see the pixies, until Stella gives them 'clarity of vision', an ability she learnt from her mother, who comes from a line of seers.

Random children they pass though, seem to have no trouble seeing the pixies, and the girls file that away to think about later.

In Magix, the group of students and council members for Magix meet to discuss the concert. During the repairs, the governing body of Magix took the opportunity to upgrade some infrastructure, including an outdoor theatre, and they'd like to open it with a concert to commemorate the lost, and celebrate moving forward.

The group discus some things they'd like to do for the concert, and move their meeting to the new amphitheatre, to get a feel for the space.

Unbeknownst to the group, Stormy has grown bored waiting around for Darkar and Icy to come up with a new plan for finding the pixie village, (since he, apparently, has a plan already in play for Alfea) and has gone out by herself to wreak some havoc.

She stumble across the concert group in Magix, and decides to rain on their parade by summoning up a destructive storm.

At first, the group don't pay much attention to the sudden rain, beyond noting the oddly sudden change in the weather. It's not until it gets intense enough to start pulling signs from their foundations that someone realises the storm is very localised.

By this time, the wind is too much for any of them to fly through, and they can't find the source of the storm, so Musa suggests weather magic, reminding the other fairies of their first lecture with Avalon.

Musa summons a small hand drum, sets a beat and starts dancing, Aisha and Tecna falling into step, with the other Alfea students present joining in soon after. As the weather starts to lose intensity, the witches, heroes and even the council members begin to copy the fairies movements. Soon the storm begins to die down, then fall apart.

With the storm dissipated, Stormy appears before them, and in a fit of rage, hurls a bolt of lighting at the group, but Musa bring her drum up and strikes it, letting loose an unbelievable crash like thunder, causing the lightning to explode on itself midstrike, flinging the Trix back through the sky.

With a snarl she disappears, and everyone turns to Musa, who seems shocked at what she's just done. When asked how she did that, Musa can only shake her head and admit that she doesn't know, that she just felt 'very powerful in that moment.'

Riven, who was there to pilot the Red Fountain students, and had been the first of the heroes to join in, posits that as the fairy of music, maybe she'd been empowered by the 'anti-rain dance' and its accompanying song, since they'd all been acting in concert to the music Musa had provided on the drum. The group agree that's about as likely as any other explanation, and the very grateful council members get the group back on track for the concert, as soon as they put out an alert for Stormy with the local law enforcement.

On Earth, after the trial wraps up, Mike and Vanessa take the trio of fairies and their pixies out for pizza, and ask the girls how school has been going. They are aware of the siege and Darkar, thanks to phone calls with Bloom, but hearing it in person makes it more real.

Bloom also, hesitantly and for the first time, tells her parents about Daphne and their shared parentage. She begins rambling as she tries to explain, and she just keeps talking trying to get it all out, and then a secret slips out amidst the verbal vomit.

Bloom is scared and confused and worried and lost. Her sense of identity has taken a hit, and between Bloom Peters, Earth girl, and Pyra, lost princess of Domino, she isn't sure who she is any more. Part of her wants to embrace her lost heritage, but part of her is afraid embracing it will mean loosing her Earth identity, her Earth family.

Her parents comfort her immediately, letting her know that no matter what, she will always be part of their family, and that Daphne, ghostly or otherwise, is welcome as well, they won't make her choose.

Flora tells Bloom, that she has a few truths about her: Bloom is a kind person, a great leader, and an artistic soul, but before anything else, she is their friend, she just needs to find something about herself that doesn't change, and start from there, no matter how long it takes, they'll be there while she figures herself out.

Stella agrees completely, pressing herself bodily and magically against Bloom in a hug that lets the fire fairy feel the love and support Stella had for her.

Surrounded by their love, Bloom finds peace within herself, a certainty of self she'd lost somewhere along the way.

Her magic surges and blossoms, and her Charmix materialises.

Which leads to a whole new round of celebration. (after a lengthy explanation of fairy levels and transformations and such, and why this was such a big deal.)

That night, back at Alfea, the group catches up, and Bloom decides she'll begin writing and drawing a 'memoir' of sorts for her parents, so they can share in the adventures she's had.

In the meantime, the girls talk about the concert for Magix.

Given the reason for the concert, the heads of the schools allow the students to have half days in order to be ready for the weekend, since the Magix council want the concert to take place as soon as possible, to show the Magical Dimension they're back on their feet.

Riven makes an effort to help behind the scenes, as part of his 'I need to unlearn how to be an arsehole' self improvement project. He and Musa discover they get along pretty well, having quite a few things in common, like the fact they both have scholarships to their respective schools.

Musa, having heard the whole story of 'why Riven is the way he is', has helped come up with a few tricks (mostly specific hand signs) so that the group (the Winx and Specialists) can tell Riven he's being an arsehole, without actually being confrontational.

(The most used hand sign is 'run that by me again,' which is for moments when Riven says something super offensive or just outright annoying, and the group want to be sure he knows what he said wrong, and that he meant it. Most of the time it turns out he's just worded something badly and it's come out ruder than he intended. It goes a long way to helping group unity, and they find themselves using the signs for other team members, not just Riven.)

For the closing act, Musa and a few other students, and volunteers from Magix, write a song about the unity between the very different groups.

Stella helps organise the wardrobes, Tecna runs a team in charge of the electronics, and Aisha gets right into helping the dancers, one of whom is Mirta. (Musa has been unanimously voted In Charge of the project as their resident Fairy of Music, but also as the only person who has any experience in setting up a concert from scratch.) Bloom and Flora find places and people to help out amidst the preparations.

The evening of the concert arrives, all the performers are nervous, they've done the best they could in the time they had, and they all plan to give it their all.

Musa has an additional reason to be nervous however, she's invited her father to come watch the performance. Musa is trying to show her father how much music means to her, not just because of her mother, but because music is who she is.

When the concert starts though, Musa and the other performers set their worries aside so they can give their best possible performances.

The show gets off to a great starts, all the acts go flawlessly, but as the evening progresses, dark clouds begin to gather over head, and thunder rumbles across the sky. When Musa steps on stage during the later half of the concert, a bolt of lightning strikes the stage, causing several of the lights and speakers to explode. Musa is flung across the stage, and in the crowd, her friends are scared, but the fairy of music gets back up quickly.

From the darkness overhead, Stormy descends, her Gloomix glowing an unusually bright, and menacing red.

Stormy calls Musa out for what happened a few days prior, saying that how ever Musa managed to fight her off, it won't happen again. Amongst the crowd, in strategic locations for just this scenario, fairies, witches and wizards bring up shields to protect the crowd. With the number of civilians in the area, there aren't a lot of people free to combat Stormy. Musa loudly declares that she beat Stormy before, and she can do it again.

Stormy proceeds to trounce her for several minutes before Riven manages to get close enough to Mirta to call out a plan to her. Mirta smirks and casts illusions all throughout the crowd, lyrics and the music for their concert's final song.

The Winx, and the members of the concert who were there for the last confrontation, realise what Riven is planning, and start singing, making music with hands and feet and instruments, and focusing on Musa. As the rest of the crowd looks at the music makers and the lyrics in confusion, Riven sprints through the masses, calling out for people to sing, that Musa if the Fairy of Music.

An older man vaults onto the stage and settles himself down in front of the piano, joining the song. At the back of the crown, a young woman with a long, pale blonde ponytail summons a small orchestra of instruments and helps out as well. (spoiler alert, it's Galatea.)

Musa feels the power swelling up inside her, and quickly turns the tide of battle.

Stormy is enraged as she is beaten back again, by the fairy, and attempts to summon a powerful lightning elemental.

On stage the man at the piano calls out in fear for Musa, who turns to him and asks for him to trust her, because this is who she is.

They share a moment as he agrees, and Musa feels like she's pushed through an obstacle she didn't even realise she was trying to overcome. A bright light flares on her chest and around her waist as her Charmix finally manifests, multiplying her powers even further.

She wraps Stormy in a bubble of percussive force, the elemental she was attempting to call falls to pieces, and the witch's ears start to bleed, her screams swallowed up by Musa's unrelenting display of power.

With no other recourse, Stormy teleports out.

The crowd cheers, and despite the near disaster, the show goes on, with even more energy than before.

(At Alfea, the students who stayed at the school and watched the concert on tv all break out into cheers as well. In the Headmistress's office, Faragonda and Griselda share a look and break out their celebratory alcohol for a single victory shot each... before writing up a pardon for Musa for classes since the girl will be recovering from her power boost for a few days. (The more a fairy boosts her powers above her normal level, the longer she has to sleep it off.))

Musa rides the high until the last song, which everyone sings along to now that they know the words. Musa has just enough time after the final curtain call to talk to her dad (the man at the piano) before she passes out.

Musa's dad sees his daughter and her friends back to Alfea, before he returns home to Melody.

#Winx #Winx Club #Winx Alt Con #Winx Alternative Continuity #Winx Alt Con Season 02 Recap #Winx Alt Con Week 15

3 notes · View notes

looselucy · 7 years ago

Photo

Dear Pippa,

I guess I’m writing for a few different reasons. One of them, is to say sorry. I’m sorry for coming into your life and throwing you off-course. I’m sorry for being someone you didn’t anticipate, and bringing changes you maybe weren’t ready for. I’m sorry for not being the perfect person for you. But, even so, I strongly believe that I am still your person, and you are mine.

I think one of the ways I changed things for you, and I’ve always known this, was the way I helped to alter what the image of a family is. You always had this idea stuck in your head, and fucking hell did it piss me off. Just this image of a man and a woman and two kids, and that was it. That was all a family was and ever could be, and you were so wrong, and I’m sorry I had to be such a dick about proving that to you. But families are not that one dimensional, you know that now. Whether it’s two dads, two mums, divorced parents, parents who never got married, people who didn’t even know their biological mum or dad, they still have incredible families. But I’m glad you see that now. I’m glad you know that just because a family is fucked up, doesn’t mean it’s bad. Because we’ve got a lot of different examples, especially now we’re older, and we get to see all our friends making their own families. Because everything worked out for everyone, and it’s beautiful to witness. It’s nice that we get to see everyone being so happy. Zayn and Ringo getting married last year, Louis finally figuring his shit out with that girl he’s been obsessed with for years, and don’t tell me I’m the only one seeing sparks fly between Tally and your friend Jamie from home? Even when your mum remarried, and you were nothing but happy for her. A few years ago, it would have upset you, but you’ve grown so much. Even Grace and Ed. I know we all struggled with that at first, but they love each other so much, and they’ve helped each other, too. They work so well together, and they’ve found such a genuine happiness in one another. She told me the other day that she’s going to name the baby Mike. So maybe nothing worked out exactly like we thought it would, but it doesn’t mean it’s not perfect. And I know you tried to hide it at the time, but I knew you were upset when you found out you were pregnant. I knew it wasn’t exactly how you’d seen things going, but she’s perfect anyway, isn’t she? I remember on our graduation day, when you were hiding your baby-bump under that gown because you weren’t ready to tell anyone, and I got to simply stare at you for a while. I just watched you, and I felt so proud of you for getting a First, and I felt so proud of you that you’d just gotten your first photography job, and I felt so proud of you for being so strong. I remember it so clearly, watching you pulling that gown around your middle, hiding the life that was growing inside of you, and realising that the main thing I was feeling, was happiness. Of course I was scared, terrified even, but I was so happy. I guess it happened a little sooner than I thought it would, but I knew I’d start a family with you. Now we have Emmy, and she’s so amazing and I just think, what if we had waited? What if it hadn’t all happened the way it did and we didn’t have her? I couldn’t imagine my life without her and I don’t want to. I know it wasn’t our plan, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s perfect. Everything that happened is perfect and wonderful, and I know you see it the same way. It took you a while, a lot longer than it took me, but I know you do. There are times when you struggle. We both struggle. Things aren’t always easy, but you work so hard, and I don’t think you could be doing a better job than you are. So I really hate it when you get upset. The other week when I got home from work, and found you crying on our living room floor, I swear my heart stopped. It probably shouldn’t have, since you do cry a lot, but just seeing you sat there crying, looking so lonely. It killed me. I hate it when I’m not there for you. And you shouldn’t have cried. It’s okay that we had nothing in and you gave Emmy chocolate cake for breakfast. You both loved it, right? She asked why you were having a morning party, and you were happy and she was happy and it was such a real moment that you got to share with our daughter. No one is the perfect parent, and you shouldn’t doubt yourself just because you did something a little frivolous and silly. You should never cry just because you had a moment of slight insanity. Embrace it, and stop convincing yourself that you have to be perfect for her. I’ve never told you this, but you know when she went through that stage of waking up in the middle of the night just wanting to go on the swings? Well one night, she came into our room, and I stirred, and she asked me if she could go play on the swings. It was 3.a.m. and I did it. I just took her into the back garden, and pushed her on the swings for an hour, until I noticed she was fast asleep and I was still pushing her back and forth. I shouldn’t have done it, but I did and I don’t regret it. No one has this figured out, we just all kind of figure it out along the way, trust me. You’re the best example of a mother I’ve ever been lucky enough to see, and I don’t want you to doubt that for a second. She loves you, you know? Our little girl might be the only person in the world who loves you more than I do. You’ve done such an amazing job with her. I feel really grateful that we both have jobs where we do what we love, and get to spend so much time with our daughter too. Seeing the two of you together is the best thing. I can barely fathom my luck. I can’t even explain the way my heart bursts whenever I see her sleeping, Lulu and Luke the penguins tucked under each arm. Your mum let me look at your baby photos the last time we went to see her, and Emmy looks just like you did. If she turns out to be half as beautiful as you are, then we’re in for a world of trouble. She’s already a handful, and I wouldn’t change her for the world. I can’t even get over how fucked up and spectacular our family is. It’s literally the best bunch of misfits I’ve ever seen in my life. Emmy told me she likes to make the kids at nursery jealous, because she has four grandads, and most of her friends only have two. There’s not a single section of our family that represents that ideal you used to look up to, and I love that. I guess I’m also writing to say that I want to change our family. I love it, of course I do, but I want to marry you. You told me last year that you didn’t think I’d ever ask, laughing as you said I’d just think it was a waste of money and we’re perfect anyway, which let’s be honest, is completely true, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. I want to stand in front of everyone we love and tell them how much you mean to me, I want to make this as official as it can possibly be and promise to you that I’ll never leave. And it’s not just because I know you want it, because I want it just as much, I promise you. I want to kiss you and hold you and declare it to every fucker in the world that you’re mine. You have been for years now, you always will be. I want to hold you, I want to be able to call you my wife, I want to fulfil the dream you’ve had all these years, I want to kiss you on the dancefloor whilst we have our first dance to Songbird and I want I want I want I want… I want everything I do to be shared with you in some way, Pippa. I know this is probably one of the least romantic ways of asking you to marry me, but it felt like just using four words and lighting some candles wasn’t enough. I felt like I had more to say, words I knew I’d stumble over and forget if I tried to do this to your face. I’ve already done the typical thing and asked your dad, and he’s happy. Like, really happy. Your dad believes in true love more than anyone I know, so I was pretty honoured when he seemed so chuffed that I want to marry you. There is real beauty in the way we love each other. It’s beyond anything I’ve known. I once worried that I’d met you too soon; that time would rip us apart somewhere along the line, but it never did. It never will. Time is a concept, and we’re not. I’ve learnt over the years that we are stronger than it. I guess I just never thought I’d move into your flat when I was eighteen years old, and never not live with you again, especially after the way things started. I realised the other day, than in just over ten years, I’ll have spent more of my life living with you than I will have without. In just three years, I’ll have lived with you for as long as I lived with my dad’s. This is the kind of stuff I think about when I can’t sleep, and then this warm feeling takes over me, and I can drift away. I truly love you, Pip-Squeak. I know I tell you all the time, but we’ve been together for years now, since we were teenagers, and sometimes it feels like you don’t hear me. You forget how much it actually means. I am so in love with you, so in love with our family and so in awe of everything we’ve become over the years. You make me look forward to everything, you even make me look forward to being withered and old because I know we’ll be one of those cute old couples who hold and hands and go out for meals, the couples we see that make you cry in public. I want everything with you, that’s how much I love you. I’ll always aim to make you the happiest person in the world, because you do that to me without even trying. I love you. I love you. I fucking love you. I think I’ve rambled on a bit here, so maybe it’s best if I just end this with those four words that aren’t quite enough, but maybe they do help me sum this whole thing up. Will you marry me?

#happy epilogue day #hope you like it #thank you for reading #BB51 #BB Epilogue #1dff #Harry Styles

249 notes · View notes