#My grandma is great! I love her! she absolutely cannot imagine what something WILL look like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

holidaywishes · 4 years ago

Text

then we‘ll start our life together

Requested: 👍

Summary/Request: Freddie starts to spend time with Jackson and keeps pressing to tell him the truth; the secret finally comes out to Fred’s parents; (Y/N) has to make a choice.

Warning: fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst but I wouldn’t count on it

Author’s Note: Can I first say how much I love this GIF? He looks so fucking good, I can’t stand it. He’s smiling, he’s got scruff, the maroon/burgundy hat looks A-MA-ZING on him 🤤 Anyway, moving on. This is the last part of the request that @kayleafs221 sent me a while back that started as just a two-parter. We worked on part three together and I think it turned out really well but they really wanted the reader and Freddie together -- they just didn’t know how to write it. Enter: me! As much as I love writing angst, and as well as I think I can write it, I’m a hopeless romantic at heart so a happy ending is always in sight when I’m writing. It’s sort of a long chapter because of everything that needed to be fit in for it to be a happy ending without just... cutting to the happy ending. I hope you enjoy it! Stay Golden, my loves! <3!

P.S. I'm sorry this took SO long to get out. I started writing it a bunch of times and then things happened around the house that took and held my attention. BUT I'M HERE NOW! It's snowing today when it was +20 yesterday and I've got a bunch of goodies to keep me focused on sitting down and writing. It's like being back in University writing my god damn thesis again 😂😂 ENJOY! By the way, this is the dress I was trying to describe, hopefully it came through!

masterlist

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Freddie’s P.O.V

When you found out Jackson was yours, you felt a lot of things. You were mad that you didn’t get to have those first six years, frustrated that (Y/N) didn’t reach out to you to at least tell you that he was yours, but you were also happy that you were able to see him grow up now. When she asked you if you wanted to finally meet Jackson, you nearly screamed over the phone; like a fangirl

“Relax!” she laughed, “you can’t say anything. I just told him a friend of mine was in town and we were going to meet him for lunch. He doesn’t know anything okay? And you can’t let on about.. anything”

“I know. I promise I won’t”

“Oh another thing,” she added, “wear a hat”

“A hat?” you scoffed

“He’s a smart kid and if he sees that you’ve got red hair, he’ll figure it out”

“Fine, I’ll wear a hat” you teased

“Thank you.” You were sure that you’d be able to keep yourself together but you had downed two glasses of water before (Y/N) and Jackson even got to the restaurant. When the hostess brought them to the table, your eyes went wide when you saw the little strawberry blonde boy clutching the hand of his mother; a perfect mix of you and her

“Hey,” (Y/N) greeted with a smile, “Jackson, this is Freddie. Freddie, this is Jackson, my son”

“Hi Jackson” you smiled, standing up excitedly earning a glare from (Y/N) as the little boy hid behind her legs

“Sweetheart, can you say hi to Freddie?” she asked

“Hello” he whispered

“It’s nice to meet you, little man”

“Let’s sit down, huh?” (Y/N) smirked, directly Jackson and you back to the chairs, “who’s hungry?”

“Me!” Jackson exclaimed, earning a laugh from you before you all scanned the menu. You could feel (Y/N) watching the two of you as Jackson started talking about his sports teams, going from Soccer to Baseball to Basketball in one breath, his excitement palpable

“Have you ever wanted to try Hockey?” you asked

“I don’t know how to skate” he mumbled

“We live in California,” (Y/N) scoffed, “there’s not a lot of ice there”

“There are always rinks” you added, catching her angry glare that you knew meant you were getting dangerously close to exposing the secret she’d tried so hard to keep. “I can always help you learn...”

“No way! Really?!” he exclaimed, leading your eyes to catch (Y/N) biting her lip insecurely

“Only if your mom is okay with it. And if it’s something you really want”

“Mommy, please!” he begged, “it’s the only one I haven’t tried! I wanna try! He can help me, mama!”

“How about we eat first and then we can figure all that stuff out later?” she laughed and Jackson nodded happily, sitting back in his seat. It wasn't long into the meal that Jackson continued to beg to learn how to skate with you and you could feel (Y/N) become more agitated with you

"Hey, Jackson," you interrupted his excitement, "what's your favourite snack?"

"Mmm..." he hummed as he contemplated his answer, "black licorice!" (Y/N) scoffed and shook her head before peeking up at you

"I don't get it," she replied, "no one actually likes black licorice unless they're like a.. grandma or something"

"I love black licorice!" you exclaimed

"You do?!" Jackson asked and you nodded. "SEE MOM! I TOLD YOU I WASN'T THE ONLY ONE!"

"I know you did, baby" she sighed before Jackson excused himself to go to the bathroom

"He's so cute" you began to coo

"You're the only other person I know who actually likes black licorice"

"Should I not have said that?" you winced

"I don't know... he could think it's just a miraculous coincidence"

"Look," you smiled, "it's a Danish thing. We all eat black licorice like it's chocolate. Should we tell him that?"

"I--" she started, stopping only when he came back, "Hey sweetie! everything go okay?"

"Yeah, mom.." he sneered

"One of these days I'm not gonna ask and you're gonna miss it" she joked

"Yeah right," he scoffed. When you finished the meal, Jackson told you that they were heading downtown to go to the CN Tower before you left, "wanna come?"

"I don't know... what does your mom think?" you smiled and turned your gaze to (Y/N)

"Mom thinks it's fine"

"AND THEN WE CAN GO SKATING!"

"Jackson..." she sighed, shaking her head while the three of you walked through the streets and made your way downtown to the city’s major tourist attraction. The ride up to the top, to the observation deck, was silent as Jackson got as close to the window as he could to look out at the city, letting you and (Y/N) linger near each other with each passing second. "He likes you" she whispered

"He's a great kid" you whispered back and she smiled

"He really is"

"MOM LOOK!" Jackson pointed out to the city and she walked to him, kneeling down behind him so he could show her what he was seeing. You so wanted to be part of it but you knew you had to wait for her to say that it was time; she looked back at you with a soft smile before dropping her head against her sons shoulder.

When you and Jackson got back to California, he had so many questions about Freddie

“Why did we hang out with him all weekend?”

“Did you date?”

“Why is he so tall?”

“Is he gonna teach me how to skate?”

“When are we gonna see him again?”

You had to take a deep breath to try to answer his questions, telling him that you two dated a long time ago, that you lost touch and that you might never see him again but that seeing him now was enough.

“But is he gonna teach me how to skate?” he asked again and you chuckled

“I can teach you how to skate...” you lied

“He said he wanted to though!”

“Jackson.. baby, we’re not close to him. Physically. We can find someone to teach yo—”

“I WANT HIM TO TEACH ME!” he whined, forcing you to furrow your brow at him

“Jackson!” you tried to sound stern but your surprise kept creeping in

“I DON’T KNOW WHY HE CAN’T TEACH ME!!! I WANT HIM TO TEACH ME HOW TO SKATE!”

“JACKSON CALEB (Y/L/N)!” you yelled, “DO NOT YELL AT ME!”

“I WANT—”

“ENOUGH!” you shouted, “you cannot whine and yell and throw a temper tantrum and expect to get what you want. If you really want to learn how to skate, we can find someone but do not try to force me to do exactly what you want” you watched the corners of his mouth shift into a frown before his eyes brimmed with tears. “Baby, I’m sorry. I love that you want him to teach you but he’s so busy and he’s so far away, we can’t do it as easily as you think...”

“Can’t he come here?” he asked softly

“Sure he can,” you added, lifting him up onto the couch so you could kneel in front of him, “but it won’t be every day. It would only be when he’s here for work and that means he might not have a lot of spare time...”

“But if we take lessons here then he’ll be able to see my progress!”

“Absolutely kiddo!”

“AWESOME!” he exclaimed, jumping off the couch and running to his room. You were left a bit in shock at the conversation but you could feel the need for Jackson to have a father figure creeping closer and closer. When your phone rang, you slumped onto the couch and answered it

“Hello” you sighed

“(Y/N)!! Oh my god!” Amalie greeted happily from the other line

“Amalie? Hi... what’s going on?”

“I saw the pictures of your little boy! He looks so much like Freddie. How come you didn’t tell us?!”

“Hold on... slow down, what are you talking about?”

“Fred called mom and told her the good news. We’re so excited to have another Andersen!”

“He told you? About Jackson?”

“Jackson, oh I love that name!” she cooed

“I’m sorry, what exactly did he say?” you asked, curious how much Freddie actually said

“He just called mom gushing about how he spent the whole weekend with his son. When mom stopped screaming with excitement, he said that Jackson,” she giggled as she said his name, “is great at sports but he doesn’t know how to skate yet, which my dad was shocked about” she laughed. “Mom had him on speaker obviously, so we all heard as he was talking to her. He was so excited to tell us about him. But, (Y/N)... why did you keep him from us?”

“What?”

“Look, no one else seemed to catch on that he was your son and that you and Fred haven’t seen each other in 6 years? But I did and I don’t get it...”

“Freddie got traded and he had to hop on a plane and forget everything in California. I didn’t find out I was pregnant for another two months after he left so it wasn’t like I intended to... I thought about reaching out to him so many times but his life was so public and I couldn’t imagine putting my son through all of that without a choice”

“But he’s Freddie’s son too” she countered and you could only shake your head to yourself. You were tired of explaining this to everyone

“I know but I needed to protect Jackson above everything. Look, Fred and I discussed all this and we’ve agreed to let him get to know Jackson slowly”

“And he’s okay with that?” you scoffed

“He’s a little hesitant, sure, but he agrees that this is what’s best”

“I just don’t want my big brother to get... cheated out of more time with his son”

“He won’t”

“I don’t want him getting hurt”

“Amalie, I appreciate all of this. Honest, I do, but my job is to protect my son and sometimes that means keeping secrets from people...”

“I don’t know, that doesn’t seem right”

“I,” you started, calming your tone as you were starting to get agitated, “I have to go, Amalie. Tell everyone I say hi and I’m sure I’ll be talking with you all soon”

“Bye!” You were almost fuming at the thought that Freddie went behind your back and told his family about your son

“Hello” Freddie greeted from the other line

“WHAT THE HELL FREDDIE?!” you shouted

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” he replied, playing dumb

“You told your family???? I thought we discussed this, Freddie!”

“I told my — I was excited. It slipped, I’m sorry” you dropped your head to your free hand and shook your head

"I don't even know what to say right now..."

"I promise Jackson won't know anything until you're ready"

"Glad to hear it," you scoffed, "look, just run some of these things by me first. I'm not a huge fan of surprises, I'd like to be prepared if I have to defend myself okay?"

"I get it, I'm sorry. It won't happen again"

"Thank you" you smiled to yourself before dropping the topic. His voice calmed you down enough for you to take a deep breath and he spent the next 20 minutes telling you how much fun he had with you and Jackson and how he missed you already; you laughed and told him how much Jackson was pestering you about learning to skate

"I'm sorry" Freddie said

"No no!" you smirked, "it's okay, he's so excited. It's adorable. He actually yelled at me when I told him you couldn't teach him"

"Really?" he asked, a lightness in his tone that brought you back to how the two of you used to be

"Yeah," you admitted, "he really likes you. I think it's actually gonna be really easy to tell him; honestly, I think he'll be happy about it"

"I'm happy to hear that," he replied, "so when are we gonna tell him?"

"Don't push your luck, Mr. Goaltender. It's still gonna take some time" you weren't sure how much time but you knew you weren't ready for the truth to come out yet, no matter how well they were getting along.

Freddie's P.O.V

After (Y/N) found out that you told your mom, who in turn alerted the entire family, that you had a son, you were sure she'd be too angry to let him spend any more time with you.

"We finally found him a teacher," she said over the phone, informing you about Jackson's time on the ice, "he's a great guy. Really positive with Jackson, really encouraging. J seems like he's having a lot of fun -- he keeps saying he can't wait to go skating with you"

"That's great!" you exclaimed, "when will you guys be in Toronto?"

"We won't," she said simply

"Oh... I don't understand?"

"Fred, my job isn't like your job. I can't just fly off to Toronto with my son"

"Even on the weekends?"

"Yeah, even on the weekends" she scoffed

"So, what then? How am I supposed to take him skating and see where he's at with everything? How am I supposed to get to know my son when I can't even see him?"

"Come here," she blurted out, forcing you to keep silent and take a seat on your couch, "whenever your next game in California is, take some time and come see us. We can meet you somewhere, we'd make that work"

"I don't think I'd have any free time..." you answered

"Just tell us when you're in town and we'll make it work. Trust me, okay?" she said and you could hear her smile, "I have to go but I'll text you later"

"Okay" you sighed as you hung up the phone. You thought about how exactly you could make this work, because you really wanted to make it work, but the schedule was packed; you couldn't see a time for you all to get together. You texted her when you were in L.A. and told her that you had some free time over the weekend if she was okay to meet you there and she was quick to agree. When the three of you finally met up, Jackson excitedly jumped onto the ice to show you his skills and you stood behind the glass with (Y/N) to watch him skate a little before either of you joined him. "Thank you for coming out here," you said and she nudged your shoulder before sitting down on the bench to put on her skates, "I'm serious. I know my schedule's always been a little crazy but I appreciate you at least giving me a chance"

"You know I can't skate right?" she laughed and you realized that she was struggling to tighten her laces

"Hold on, stop" you laughed, kneeling in front of her to help her

"This is a disaster," she scoffed, "I probably should just let you guys skate without me"

"No way that's happening," he smirked, "it's too late for that"

"You sure no one is gonna find us here?"

"I'm sure" you replied, looking up at her before clearing your throat and sitting back on the bench to put your skates on. Her arm grazed yours, eliciting a flush of heat from you

"You have to tell him you're proud of him," she said, laying her head on your shoulder as she watched her son skate slowly across the ice and you looked at her. You kissed the top of her head and just sat there with her for a while

"I will" you whispered finally, forcing her to take her head off your shoulder and her eyes met yours as she smiled

"Good" she whispered, her eyes drifting down to your lips as if she was waiting for you to make a move

"MOM! FREDDIE!" Jackson yelled, taking the two of you out of the moment you were having

"And... saved by the kid" you joked, dropping your head, preparing yourself to get up but not before she laid a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“You know, my dad taught me and my brothers how to skate and how to play hockey,” Freddie explained to Jackson as he helped you up from where you fell, “it’s a family tradition”

“It is?” Jackson’s little voice asked, leading you and Freddie to smile

“It is!” he replied

“So why are you teaching me? Where’s your family?” you dropped your head in defeat

“Uh, well..” Freddie stammered, looking at you briefly before turning his attention back to the boy

“Baby, why don’t you skate ahead. Fred’s just gonna keep me from falling but we’ll be right behind you” you said softly while you continued to grip onto Freddie’s arm so you didn’t fall

“I think it’s time to tell him” he laughed

“He’s gonna hate me” you admitted, revealing the reason you hadn’t wanted to tell him after all these years

“He’s not gonna hate you. You’re his mom, he loves you” he scoffed, nudging you with his elbow and you had to clutch onto him so you didn’t fall

“Freddie!” you exclaimed with a laugh, “ugh. I’m gonna die out here, I’m sure of it”

“We don’t have to tell him here, we could go out for lunch or ice cream. Go to the malt shop at the beach, anything. I just think we should tell him”

“What happens when we tell him? What if it never.. what if it just always sucks after that?”

“I’ll be there with you. Every step of the way. I promise, I won’t leave again”

“You can’t promise that. Your career pulls you everywhere...”

“But I won’t ever leave you. You can come with me, I would love nothing more, actually” he stopped and turned to you, holding onto your arms. “Live with me, travel with me. Toronto isn’t by the Pacific Ocean and it’s not always sunny but it’s a great place to be”

“I don’t know... we’d have to talk to his teachers and make sure we find a school, a good school, where he could start at the beginning. You know, not like in the middle of the year...”

“We can make that happen” he tried

“What about his friends?”

“We’ll make sure they all keep in touch. (Y/N), I want this to work. I want to be part of his life and I’ve always wanted to be with you. You know that, right?” your eyes danced between his as you prepared to answer him before you were interrupted by Jackson calling you

“We’re coming!” you called back and let Freddie pull you toward him, letting you go when Jackson fell onto his knees

“Alright it’s okay buddy,” Freddie cooed as you slowly drifted toward them, “you hurt?”

“No,” he said proudly, “but I fell...”

“Yeah you did,” Freddie continued, “but that’s okay. Sometimes you fall but you got back up, that’s the important thing” you smiled as you heard the two boys talking, feeling a sudden rush of love you had long since forgotten. “Wanna take a break and get some food?”

“YEAH!”

“Mom?” Fred asked, outstretching his hand to you

“I’ll do anything to get off this ice” you laughed. The three of you made your way to a retro-style Diner, complete with red vinyl booths, and waited to order some food; all the while, Jackson was glaring at Freddie, “Jackson!” you scolded, “it’s not polite to stare like that”

“Why don’t you take your hat off? Is it like permently glued to your head?” he asked Freddie, tripping up on the word he’d heard you say on occasion, earning a scoff from you and a laugh from Freddie

“No, it’s not glued to my head” Freddie replied

“So you should take it off. Manners”

“You’re right” he added with a smile

“He’s right” you sighed, anticipating his reaction when he saw Freddie’s hair for the first time. As you expected, Jackson gasped when Freddie took off his hat, as if seeing another person with red hair was this miraculous thing — though you always thought there was more blonde than red to his shade.

“Your hair is like mine” he smiled and all you could do was wait. How do I tell him? you thought to yourself, stealing glances from Freddie

“You’ve got your moms hair”

“She always said that my hair was hers and my dads put in a blender” he laughed

“I did say that, didn’t I?” you chuckled

“Mom, is Freddie my dad?” he asked, the words hanging in the air as you tried to catch your breath

“Uhm,” you started, clearing your throat as you watched Jackson keep his head down and eyes on the table, “what makes you say that, sweetie?”

“Is he?” he repeated

"Well, buddy," Freddie started, looking at you before you nodded so he knew he could continue, "yeah. Yeah, I'm your dad..." You both waited for him to react but he just sat there in silence, still not raising his head to meet your eyes

"Sweetheart?" you whispered, kneeling in front of him, "Jackson, can you look at me?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked quietly

"She was just trying to protect you, Jackson" Freddie added, causing Jackson to quickly look up at him

"You didn't know about me?" he asked again and you were finally able to see the tears roll down his sweet little cheeks

"I--"

"Why did you keep me from my daddy?!" Jackson yelled

"Sweetheart, please, calm down" you tried but it was no use

"NO!" he stepped back and kicking his chair in frustration, "everyone else gets a dad why not me?!"

"Jackson!" Freddie tried when he noticed you had practically crumpled in your chair

"NO!" Jackson repeated as he ran out of the diner

"I'm so sorry everyone..." Freddie apologized to the group before you made your way outside

"Jackson..." you whispered when you found him sitting on a bench a few feet from the diner

"Go away" he cried

"Baby, I know you're mad," you started, sitting down beside him before he moved away from you, "I loved Freddie, your dad, very much and he loved me the same. We met and, immediately, we clicked -- I always wanted to be around him, I missed him when he was gone and I didn't want him to ever leave when he got back. When he left, I was broken. Nothing really made sense anymore and I couldn't forgive him for leaving me like that. But then you came along and you became the most important thing in my life; you really changed everything" you smiled as he nestled into your side. "You deserve to have a dad, you deserve to know your dad, you're so much like him it's crazy" you chuckled before resting your cheek on Jackson's head. "Freddie's life is complicated. It's very busy but it's also very public; you don't have as much freedom to just... be a kid like you do with just me"

"Is that why you didn't tell him?"

"Sort of..." you replied, "I didn't think I'd ever see him again and my heart was so hurt but you are the most important thing in the world to me. I shouldn't have kept him a secret from you, I'm sorry"

"So what now?" he asked

"Well... I wanted to talk to you about something," you stammered, "Freddie and I have been getting close again, I still really love him. That kind of love is hard to forget, you’ll realize that one day, but he really wants to spend more time with you but his life is in Toronto..."

"Yeah?" he said

"Would you want to move there?" you asked, noticing him perk his head up

"All of us would be together?" he asked

"Yes and maybe you'll even get to meet Fred's family. Really get to learn the Andersen family traditions, the right way"

"YES!" he exclaimed before hugging you tightly. "But mom?" he asked

"Hmm?"

"Can we call him dad?" you laughed at his question before nodding in response. You headed back inside to where Freddie was and Jackson jumped into the booth next to him

"Whoa, hey there! So, I guess everything is okay now?" he laughed

"We're gonna move to Toronto to live with you!"

"You are?" he asked, looking at you for confirmation

"Not right away," you corrected, "we have some stuff to sort out first but yes, eventually we'll be there with you. As a family" Freddie smiled in return at the idea of the three of you being a family

“Perfect” he said and you couldn’t help yourself; that happy little grin on his face made it near impossible not to want to kiss him, so you leaned over your son and pressed your lips to his before your son tried to pushed the two of you apart

“EW MOM, DAD, DON’T BE SO GROSS!” he whined and you smiled against Freddie’s lips

“Dad?” he whispered and you could see the pride cover his face

“Dad” you whispered back

“I like the sound of that” he smiled, sitting back in the booth and bringing Jackson into his lap and for the first time in a long time, you could picture your life with Freddie and Jackson.

2 Years Later

“MY BABY BOY!” Charlotte greeted Jackson outside of the large, stone castle that you were to be marrying Freddie in a few hours

“GRAMMA C!” he exclaimed, running to her so she could pick him up

“Hey, Charlotte” you smiled, hugging her when she put down your son

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said in your ear, “how are you feeling? You ready?”

“Yeah..” you smiled to yourself, “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. Nothing has ever felt so right”

“Why aren’t you upstairs?” she asked and you laughed

“Jackson kept running around the castle and I didn’t want him to break anything so I told him that you were on your way and we should head out front to meet you,” you admitted, “so we came out here...”

“It’s okay to be nervous,” she said, directing you back through the large wooden doors, “but he loves you and you love him and you’ve been waiting for this for a very long time. So have we” she laughed, guiding you back inside so you could get ready; draping your beautiful A-line Chiffon dress with a long train and a plunging neckline with a crystal encrusted v-neck back and buttons trailing your lower spine. You couldn’t help but spinning around to test the move-ability of the dress when Valdemar walked through the door

“Oh sorry,” he stumbled nervously, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll ju--”

“Valdemar, it’s alright,” you laughed, “come on in. I was just testing the dress”

“You look beautiful” he cooed

“Thank you” you replied

“I was told to bring you this,” he said as he handed you an envelope, “it’s from Freddie” you chuckled when you finally looked at the envelope, seeing your soon-to-be husband’s handwriting

“Thank you, Valdemar. Wait!” you said, stopping him before he left, “I have something for him to” you handed him your note and gave him a kiss on the cheek before he walked out of the room; leaving you in a separate part of the suite than your bridesmaids. As you read his note, all you could think was, I should’ve read this before I got my makeup done

“Ready?” a voice asked you from across the room and you took a deep breath, turning to find Amalie standing by the door

“I’m ready.” As you walked down the aisle, you noticed a smile glow brightly on his face and the same one was reciprocated on yours

“We come now to the words Freddie and (Y/N) want to hear the most today,” the Officiant started, “the words that take them across the threshold from being engaged to being married. A marriage, as most of us understand it, is a voluntary and full commitment. It is made in the deepest sense to the exclusion of all others, and it is entered into with the desire and hope that it will last for life. Before you declare your vows to one another, I want to hear you confirm that it is indeed your intention to be married today. Frederik, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to (Y/N) in marriage? If so, answer ‘I do.’”

“I do” Freddie smiled and the Officiant continued

“(Y/N), do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Frederik in marriage? If so, answer ‘I do.’”

“I do” you whispered back with a smile

“Frederik and (Y/N), having heard that it is your intention to be married to each other, I now ask you to declare your marriage vows. Please face each other and hold hands,” the Officiant directed, “Frederik, please repeat after me… I, Frederik, take you, (Y/N) to be my wife”

“I, Frederik, take you, (Y/N) to be my wife” he repeated

“I will share my life with yours and build our dreams together” the Officiant continued

“I will share my life with yours and build our dreams together”

“Support you through times of trouble and rejoice with you in times of happiness”

“I promise to give you respect, love and loyalty”

“This commitment is made in love, kept in faith, lived in hope and made new every day of our lives“

“This commitment is made in love, kept in faith, lived in hope, and made new every day of our lives.” It was then your turn to repeat the same vows and then continued with the ring exchange until it was finally time to announce your new relationship

“I am pleased to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Andersen!” you smiled before you opened your mouth in surprise and turning to Freddie

“We’re married!” you replied

“We are” he returned as the two of you made your way back down the aisle into the castle. The reception was everything you didn’t know you wanted and Freddie got all of his Danish traditions that the two of you had discussed during all the months of planning and it was perfect. You danced all night, you drank too much and sang call and response songs with the guests, you spent most of the night in a pair of fuzzy slippers that Freddie surprised you with and you made sure to get as many pictures with everyone as possible; but the most important thing to you was that Jackson and Freddie were by your side

“My two beautiful boys. My lovely men. I love you both so much. SO MUCH!” you drunkenly slurred as you kissed each of their cheeks

“I think it’s time you get some water” Freddie smirked

“That sounds good”

“Mom?” Jackson asked as Freddie made his way to the bar to grab you a glass

“Yeah?” you asked, moving his soft hair behind his ear

“What happens now?”

“You really like that question, don’t you?” you laughed, just as Freddie returned with an almost overflowing glass of water

“Here you go, Elske” he said and kissed your forehead before taking his seat next to you

“Thank you, husband” you cooed, leaning in for a kiss

“You’re welcome, wife” he smiled before kissing you softly

“Baby, to answer your question,” you turned your attention back to Jackson, “what happens now is that we start our life together. As our own little unit, our little family. We’ll go on adventures, you’ll go to more games and we’ll all celebrate the wins together and cope with the losses together. It doesn’t matter because we’ll all be together”

“Does that sound good?” Freddie asked and Jackson nodded. You directed them out onto the dance floor for one final dance before Charlotte and Ernst had agreed to take Jackson upstairs so he could get some sleep. Guests started to make their way to you to say goodbye and, before long, it was just you and Freddie left alone in the ballroom

“Hey,” you whispered as his fingers traced along your thigh, “wanna dance?”

“Yeah” he whispered back before bringing your face to his, kissing you slowly but intensely. You tucked yourself close to his body, letting his heartbeat guide your movements before you were left alone in silence, not realizing everyone had cleared out. “Can you believe that we get to spend the night in a castle?”

“Can you believe we’re married?” you giggled, your head still resting on his chest

“I can,” he admitted with a laughed, “I just can’t believe it took us this long”

“Good things come to those who wait” you teased

“Yes they do”

“I love you, husband”

“I love you, too, wife.”

#Frederik Andersen #Freddie Andersen #Freddie Andersen imagine #Frederik Andersen imagine #Frederik Andersen fic #Frederik Andersen request #Freddie Andersen fic #Freddie Andersen request #Freddie Andersen fluff #Frederik Andersen fluff #hockey #tml #nhl #masterlist #the other masterlist

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afoolnottoloveu · 4 years ago

Text

kiss you until your lips turn blue ♡

Summary: Reader’s first impression and first date with a handsome stranger (WC: 1.3k) {Masterlist <3}

Pairing: Spencer Reid x she/her!Reader

TW: none!

A/N: this is the first in my “series” (but not rly bc theyre not gonna be one storyline) of dodie song imagines :-) bolded lines are direct lines from the song, but there are some subtler references so i do recommend listening to the song before/after(/during? do yall listen to music while u read cause i cannot)

Song Pairing: Absolutely Smitten - dodie

she knew this feeling all too well. looking at him across the room, his brow furrowing in a look she’s never seen associated with that book, the book that had to be ancient. the library she worked at had a very special section dedicated to those types of books, but she rarely went there. but him, he seemed to have a connection to that section. maybe she would have to go there more often. she didn’t believe in love at first sight, not even fate. but god, was she infatuated. his long brown curls, his accentuated features. he looked like an absolute dork, honestly. a handsome dork, who was also an absolute stranger. an absolute stranger who was now walking over to her as she was still staring at him, oh god.

luckily for her, he was having a real hard time holding all his books, keeping his gaze on them and not her. “hi, i’d like to check these out please,” his voice was higher than she had anticipated, but she wasn't one to judge. she barely had a voice right this second. he had to have had at least 15 books, ranging all over the spectrum, from classical literature, to foreign novels, to science-y looking books, (she was an english major, if that wasn’t obvious). poor dorky stranger looked like he’d need some help. “are these all for you, love?” the nickname spilling from her lips before she could think. she did the smallest wince she could manage because he was looking at her now with those gorgeous brown eyes and she was hoping, praying he didn't notice the wince nor the nickname. (spoiler alert: he noticed. both.) “uh-um y-yeah, they are,” he gave a small chuckle. “you know you have to return all of these within 2 weeks, right?” “i’ll probably be back in 1” she gave him a wide-eyed stare. as much as she loved books, she could probably finish at most 3 in a week. was this guy some superhuman? “well, do you need help carrying these back to your car? i couldn’t help but notice you struggling to carry them to this counter,” she giggled, causing a flush to spread across the stranger’s face. “that’d be great,” he grinned, causing her heart to swell. well, handsome stranger, you have turned her insides into jelly. - tonight was her first date with handsome stranger, spencer reid. after he came back the third time, and the third time of helping him carry books back to his car, they both seemed to have the same idea, asking each other to get a cup of coffee at the same time. she still had work after that, but today was the day for that cup of coffee. (she couldn't really refer to him as handsome stranger anymore, but it felt right, so she would continue to call him that in her head.) she looked in the mirror on her apartment wall, wearing a golden sundress and a large brown overcoat. it was mid-september; not too hot nor cold, but DC tended to have a killer breeze that she was always sensitive to. this had to be at least her third outfit change, and she thought she looked okay, but an image of him popped in her head. handsome stranger, you have made her wonder if she’s pretty. (pretty enough for someone as pretty as him, anyways. how ironic.) she took a deep breath and a good look in the mirror. ‘he’s made you smitten. absolutely smitten.’ and with that thought, she quickly headed out the door before she could change her mind. ~ she had told spencer she was taking him to a ‘surprise,’ but from the walk there, spencer had already guessed where they were going. the pre-surprise coffee was delightful; the two talked about an awful lot of books, other things amongst. he was a freaking FBI agent! not only that, but he was a profiler; he read people for a living. what a job. she asked him how he could possibly finish 15 books in a week-she thought it was a joke when he said that at the time. his response just baffled her even more. ‘i have an IQ of 187, can read 20,000 words per minute and have 3 PhDs and 3 BAs.’ she wanted to pick this man’s brain. maybe handsome stranger wasn’t so poorly fit after all, what did she really even know about this superhuman? she, on the other hand, was a freaking librarian, one of the most boring jobs out there. well, not to the two of them. she actually adored her job. she was still working on her masters degree on her off time, but it was great easy money and the old lady she worked with, gina, was like another grandma. spencer mentioned wanting to volunteer sometime, but his work schedule was hectic, cases taking him across the country at the oddest times.

the two of them approached the library and she stuck the smallest key from her key ring into the door to unlock it. it was about 8pm on a sunday, and luckily the store closed an hour prior, leaving it to their devices.

“is this allowed?”

“don’t worry, love; gina co-owns the library, i’m sure she wouldn’t mind,” she flashed him a smile, causing him to blush.

the library was tiny, probably the size of a high school one. she lead him over to the checkout desk and looked for the microphone somewhere underneath the table. with the tiny building, she only needed to use it in case of emergency, closing warnings when it was packed, that sort of thing.

“so, can you dance?” she questioned as she placed the microphone atop the desk. all spencer did was get wide-eyed, so she would assume the answer was no. “that’s alright, that’s never stopped me before.” and at that, she pressed play on her phone and placed it next to the mic. a soft instrumental began to play over the speakers as she quickly skipped to one of the corners and plugged something in. suddenly, the hanging string of lightbulbs lit up, giving the place a beautiful dim glow.

“wow,” she heard spencer breath at the setting.

“do you like it? i wanted to dance around the room, i hope you don’t mind.”

that caused spencer to look at her with an expression she could not read for the life of her.

“c’mon, you asked me if i could dance,” ignoring the question, he stuck out his hand for her to take, which she did with a smirk and a giggle.

leading her to in front of the desk, the two swayed to the soft melody. he placed his hands on her waist as respectfully as possible as she wrapped her arms around his neck, even though the height difference was significant. once the rhythm seemed natural to the two of them, she laid her head on his chest, and spencer did his best not to flinch.

“didn’t you say you were something of a germaphobe? is this okay, love?” she whispered. all he could do was nod, and he was being honest. he felt safe.

once the song changed to something older that he couldn’t quite place his finger on, he leaned his head back, causing her to look up.

looking into her almost pleading eyes, he was the one who whispered this time. “can i kiss you?”

she wanted to respond ‘you can kiss me until your lips turn blue.’ instead, she opted for a nod. and then, her world stopped spinning and time froze. his lips were on her own, and she hated to admit it to anyone but herself, but this was a new feeling to her. it was a welcome one at that, though.

once pulled away, he recognized the song. it’s almost as if everything was a little bit clearer after he kissed her. they continued to sway to the new song, at last by etta james. she didn’t know, but he realized, he’ll never let you go. and she, well let’s just say she may believe in fate.

Taglist: @bxbyspxncer @yesimaunicorn @pumpkin-goob @prettyboy-reid

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #fluff #tooth-rotting fluff #spencer reid x oc #theas originals

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rextasywrites · 4 years ago

Text

Sweeter than milk - Chris Redfield x Jill Valentine

“You are talking bullshit right now, my Love.”, Chris shook his head, one hand now moving from her belly to her chest, placing it right above where her heart is. “You are still breathtakingly beautiful. I love you and I will love you forever.”

“Will you even love me when I am old and gray?”

“As long as you won’t be a grandma like the Baker grandma - sure.”

Warnings: pure smut and some fluff, lactation & pregnancy kink

enjoy <3 <3 <3

Read on AO3

This pregnancy had been nothing but a bitch on Jill so far. At first, all of her bras didn’t fit anymore. She went up enough cup sizes to make every porn star jealous, but for her it was nothing but annoying. Thankfully Chris was up to the task to buy more with her. Then Jill started to gain weight everywhere, once again growing out of clothes she loved so much. Who said having a baby would be fun and a great experience?

Jill stood in front of the mirror in their bedroom, shirt pulled up over her belly. Her fingers trailed along the stretch marks on it, pulling a face as she came to realize once more how huge she had gotten.

“Everything okay?”, a voice came from the door. Chris was leaning against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on his girl. Jill shrugged and looked back to the mirror, seemingly in another world. “Jill?”, Chris asked, but once more she didn’t give him an answer. He sighed and walked over, standing behind her.

“I don’t like this.”, she muttered as her hands moved further down to where most of her stretch marks were. “On the internet, they always write that stretch marks make you feel like a tiger. Right now I feel like an overweight household cat.”

Chris had to chuckle at her words, but tried his best to help her. In his eyes, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and nothing and no one could stop him from treating her like the goddess that she is. “Oh Jill, my Jill…”, Chris said, placing his hands a bit lower than hers. Under his rough fingers he was able to feel the faint marks, left by their baby growing inside of her.

“Just say that I look like a walrus so we can get over this.”, Jill pulled a face while saying those words, and Chris was shocked. A walrus? Not even in a million years she’d look like a walrus! Hell no, she was looking like the woman he loves!

“Will you even love me when I am old and gray?”

“As long as you won’t be a grandma like the Baker grandma - sure.”

“Oh, don’t remember me. You showed me the pictures, that was nasty!”, and a laughter spilled from her lips - mission accomplished! Chris moved his hands from her belly to her chest, placing them on the side of her boobs.

“Do they still hurt?”, Chris lovingly asked, his fingers stroking against the soft flesh of her breasts - much to his dislike still covered. Jill nodded as a blush crept upon her cheeks. This didn’t go unnoticed by Chris, who was still watching her expressions in the mirror. “Jill? Do you wanna tell me something?”

Jill’s blush only worsened as she looked down on herself once more and she placed her hands on Chris’. “I think my milk came in a few days ago, and ever since they hurt like bitches. I don’t know what to do.”, she confessed with a heavy sigh, then cupped one of her breasts. “I miss my small ones!”

The mere thought of helping his lady with hurting boobs got Chris all different kinds of excited, and he pointed to their bed. “Sit down. I have an idea.” And Chris never had a bad idea! Okay, at least most of the time his ideas weren’t that bad…

While Jill sat down, Chris headed to the bathroom to grab some towels. Confusion was written across her face when Chris walked in, grin so big it’d reach around his head if he didn’t have ears, towels in his hands. “Uhm...Should I be worried now?”

“Absolutely not! My girlie is in pain and I cannot let this happen!”, he smirked and sat down behind Jill, her situated between his legs. “There we go…”, Chris muttered as he placed the towels on her thighs, and Jill...let him do his thing. She stopped questioning him a long time ago. Especially since he tried to upgrade their lawnmower and accidentally set their garage on fire. That’s why she loved him so much.

“Take off your shirt and your bra!”, Chris ordered Jill while rubbing his hands together, a big grin on his lips. The mere thought of boobs made even a grown man smile like it’s Christmas morning. Jill shrugged and did as she was told, freeing her upper body from any clothing - but not without whimpering at the full and tender feeling of her tits. “You know I could eat you up whole like this?”

Jill laughed and leaned against Chris’ chest, relaxing the second she felt him. Chris’ hands wandered up and down on her upper body, feeling the soft curves she had developed over the past few months. The swell of her belly, the tenderness of her breasts. “Do you trust me Jill?” “I let you knock me up, isn’t that answer enough?” Chris laughed as he pressed a kiss on her shoulder, she could feel his smile against her skin. She wasn’t wrong.

“Okay okay. If it hurts, I can always stop. Just say it.”, Chris reassured Jill as his hands moved from her belly to her breasts. While they were talking, Chris had moved the towels on her thighs. Jill nodded and closed her eyes, showing Chris her full trust over her body.

Chris hummed as he started to press around on Jill’s breasts. They felt sore and tender under his touch too, and he didn’t want to imagine the pain she was feeling thanks to them. But something she hadn’t told him - the pain caused a certain level of excitement too. Jill let out a groan, her expression from relaxed to pained in mere seconds. But Chris didn’t stop just now. She hadn’t said the word. “Don’t worry, my love. I know what I am doing.” “Do you? That’s news to me.” “Aw, come on.”, Jill and Chris both had to laugh, and Jill turned her head, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

Chris’ big hands continue to massage Jill’s tits, feeling her up and relieving pressure, just waiting for the big moment. “What the fuck”, Jill muttered as she felt the pressure going down, but also...wetness? A few drops of milk were dribbling down her breasts, making their way down. Chris quickly grabbed one of the towels, wiping her clean. “You feeling better?”, and as reply came a breathy ‘more’. It was embarrassing how much this turned her on.

Jill closed her eyes again, letting all the feelings just happen. In the end, it was helping her, and why should she bite the hand that feeds her? Chris’ hands felt so good on her, pressing out more of the milk produced by her. By now, the few drops had increased to a steady flow down her breasts, a spray happening when Chris hit a sweet spot. Soft moans fell from her lips as she became putty in his hands. When Chris stopped for a moment, Jill wanted to complain but was greeted with a wet finger on her lips. “Try it?”, Chris suggested. Jill was hesitant at first, but after a few seconds, she wrapped her lips around his finger, feeling the sweet milk on her tongue. She hummed while cleaning Chris’ finger, every last drop was savoured by her. And she swore she could feel him twitching against her back.

“Now that was hotter than I previously anticipated.”, Chris muttered against Jill’s shoulder, a giggling came from her side. “You are the one who is having a field day with my boobs right now!”, she threw in, gently slapping his thigh. Chris shrugged and made another squeeze, and this time Jill couldn’t hold her moans in.

“Ah? Moaning already?”, Chris smirked, pinching her wet nipples, making her flinch - but not in a bad way. Without thinking too much about it, Jill grabbed hold of Chris’ wrist, moving it down to her pussy. To Chris’ surprise, she was more soaked than the towels he had prepared. But he wasn’t complaining. Not at all. The sweatpants Jill had started to wear once her jeans became too tight were wetter than anything she had ever felt before, and the lust boiling inside of her core, ready to spill over.

Jill sat up straighter, gently rocking her hips against Chris’ hand as he continued to milk her dry with his other one. He knew her body better than his own even with all the changes and new curves to explore. Chris knew what drove Jill wild, and a simple fingerfucking often opened the door for a night of pleasure. “Come on Jill, be a good girl and spread ya legs for me.”, Chris muttered into her ear, a kiss behind it followed. Jill, who was already needy and desperate for more, spread her legs as far as she could, giving Chris access to what was his.

His fingers moved through her folds, savouring the wetness and the feeling of how she bucked her hips towards his touch. “Ah ah, stay calm Jill. We have the whole day.”, Chris teased her, earning a disappointed groan from her side. Every stretch mark, every little insecurity was long forgotten the moment Chris dipped two of his fingers inside of her, drawing a soft moan from her lips. “Fuck, Chris!”, Jill whimpered out as her grip on his thighs increased, surely would leave marks afterwards.

Chris moved his fingers in and out of her for a short while, the wet sounds echoing off the walls as she became a waterfall under his touch. Soon enough he changed his movement. Instead of in and out, Chris moved his fingers in a motion as if he was telling her to come here. But instead of coming here, she was close to coming around his fingers. The soft spasm around his fingers made his own hard cock twitch.

Jill groaned in disappointment when Chris removed his fingers from her pussy, having been so close to a surely mind breaking orgasm. But Chris gave her no time to complain. With a few quick movements, he got rid of his clothes, his hard cock leaking precum already. Jill licked her lips at the sight, but there was no time for any of this. She needed him inside of her - now!

“Come here”, Chris said as he grabbed Jill’s hips, pulling her close to him. She moved herself up a bit, just right in position for Chris’s cock to brush against her folds, earning a low groan from him. “Shit…”, he muttered as he grabbed hold of his cock, dragging it along her wetness, just enough to lube himself up - and there was more than enough of it.

“You ready?”, Chris asked, Jill nodding in reply. With a nearly painfully slow movement, Chris pushed inside her pussy, both of them moaning in relief. To their surprise, Jill’s tits started leaking again. “Wow.”, was everything Chris managed in this moment to get out. Jill started to move her hips, sinking down further on his cock, needing more of him.

Soon enough, the room was filled with soft moans and groans, Chris’ hands wandering over her body for he couldn’t contain himself. Her breasts, her hips, her pussy, everything was delicious and if he could, he’d eat her up. But instead of doing this, he focused on her pleasure to make her fall apart. Every brush over her clit made Jill’s whole body shake, squeezing her eyes shut as she came closer and closer to her orgasm.

“Chris, I...I’m gonna cum!”, Jill whimpered out as she leaned against Chris’ chest, him pounding into her from under her. She held onto her breasts, squeezing more of her milk out as the knot inside of her tightened, ready to burst at any moment. “Cum for me. Cum for me Jill.”, Chris groaned out and focused on her clit even more.

This was enough for her to explode in an orgasm like never before. Jill stilled on top of Chris, her whole body shaking as she came. Chris followed suit, his own orgasm approaching only seconds later. While he painted her walls white, Jill milked his cock how he milked her before.

The wet sounds soon came to an ending as Chris’ cock slipped out of Jill’s pussy, leaving the sweetest mess behind. Jill groaned and got off Chris’ lap, dropping on the bed next to him. “Nobody told me having sex while pregnant would be that exhausting!”, Jill chuckled, wiping the sweat off of her forehead. Chris grabbed one of the towels they had previously used, cleaning her pussy from any cum left behind.

After throwing the towel into the washing machine, Chris found Jill deep asleep in their bedroom. He smiled at the sight, tucked her in. “I love you, Jill.”, he whispered, earning a soft sound from her. A soft kiss on her forehead followed, and he knew she was the most perfect woman in the whole wide world.

#valenfield #jill valentine #chris redfield #resident evil

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imagine-all-the-fandoms · 4 years ago

Text

A dream came true - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Requested by Anonymous: “I don't have a super specific request, just something soft with Bucky (if you feel like writing it, if not thatvs obviously totally fine)”

A/N: I really hope this is okay and you like it :) It’s my first imagine after 3 years of not writing.. but ENJOY :)

Snow. There was nothing more harmless than those innocent little ice crystals, but he connected those with the most painful memories in his live.

That’s where it all started. That’s where he became the weapon he never wanted to be. In the snow of Siberia.

Bucky sat inside the common room of the compound and watched each new snowflake fall to the ground with a sad expression on his face.

It was in the last days before the actual Christmas holidays and every room at the compound was decorated and glowed in all different colors. Tony made sure of it, that no corner is missing the spirit of the Start-Christmas-Feeling.

Bucky never had any good Christmas memories.. well he did not really remember anymore how those days were with his family and friends. The past years have not been as happy for him as well, so why should he be in the mood for all of this.

This year, it was something new.

He had built up a new little family with the other Avengers, which now welcomed him with an open heart. They finally realized after months of doubting that he did not have a chance for what he had done in the past. He deserved a ‘normal’ live. He deserved friends who cared for him and he deserved a home.

Then there also was this woman he liked, but did he have a chance that she would like him back? Those thoughts often kept him awake at night and he wished to just find an answer to this.

Steve watched him from his place at the kitchen. He knew about the struggles his best friend hat. Yet he tried his best to help him and leave his old self behind.

“How many?”, he asked with a smile on his face.

“Wha-?, Bucky turned around, startled from the sudden interruption of the room’s silence.

“How many flakes did you count?”, he chuckled. “Seemed like you were sitting there for a while.”

Bucky’s lips formed a shy smile. “Well I guess too many to get finished with it today”.

The friends then chatted for a while about everything. Missions, live at the compound, the plans each member had for Christmas Eve..

That was until a loud thud made them stop their conversations and sprinted up to where the noise was coming from.

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing there?”, Steve asked as he saw their teammate (Y/N) on the ground.

“Oh well I don’t know Rogers! I just wanted to explore the stairs when they decided to kick me down”, you snapped at him before accepting his hand to get back up on your feet.

“Are you ok?”, Bucky asked her.

“Yea I guess some bruises but I’ll be fine. The stairs seem fine as well”, you chuckled and looked back up at where she was coming from.

“You sure? We can have you checked up and make sure that-“

“Buck I’m fine.”, you interrupted his rant and gave him a warming smile. “But if you really want to make sure, you can invite me for a hot chocolate?”

“Would be my pleasure”, he smiled.

“Well alright, as I’m obviously not wanted here anymore..”, Steve pouted and threw his arms in the air.

“Come on Cap, you’re invited too”, you nudged him.

“No thanks (Y/N), it’s training time with Wilson anyways.”, he said and made his way towards the door.

“So only we both then”, you smiled and went to the kitchen to get 2 cups for her and Bucky.

Oh how he wished he could finally have the courage to tell her how much he liked her. He felt comfortable around her immediately after he moved in and she never gave him the feeling to be different than the others. She accepted him just as the person he is, and not as the monster he felt like he was.

Bucky then went to the fridge to grab the milk, while you looked for the chocolate powder but couldn’t fine some.

“Well”, you started. “Looks like the powder is empty.. so no chocolate for us”

A pout started to form on your lips which made Bucky’s heart flutter.

“Who needs powder when you have the best hot-chocolate-maker out of the 40s standing right in front of you”, he smirked and an idea formed in his head.

“Just sit down at the couch, I’ll be right there.”, he instructed, and you obeyed, still wondering what his plan was.

Bucky remembered the time with his grandma. She often made hot chocolate in her own way, which was absolutely magical. So he hoped it would work as well when he tried.

Only about 10 minutes later, the kitchen and the living room were filled with the most delicious smell you ever smelled. It was like you were in the middle of Charlie’s Chocolate Factory and you loved it.

Then you spotted the well built super soldier on the way towards the couch you were sitting on, with the cups of steaming chocolate and (of course) a little bit of whipped cream on top of it.

“Wow, this looks great.. and the smell”, you purred and reached out for you cup eagerly.

“Wait till you get a taste”, he winked.

“Oh well I wouldn’t bother Barnes”, you chuckled and then he noticed that his sentences could have gotten in another direction as well.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to .. that.”, he started to stutter, which was absolutely adorable, due to his muscular body and his voice getting like a little boy. Which made your heart flutter again, like it always did when he was around you.

“Buck, calm down”, you laughed and made space for him on the couch. “Come here”

You patted the spot next to you and he sat down, still a shade of red on his stubbled cheeks. You took a sip at the drink he made. It was the best hot chocolate you ever drank and Bucky seemed very happy you liked it.

“So, I guess you’re now my personal hot chocolate producer”, you chuckled after you emptied your cup, faster than you wanted, but you just couldn’t stop.

“Okay, I think I can deal with that, doll”, he smiled proudly.

Doll. You loved when he called you like that. You wished that you’d be the only one he called like that.

A man like him, broad shoulders, a well built form, a heart of gold (even if he didn’t notice this himself), his long hair smoothed behind his ears and those eyes. Those blue eyes which seemed to look straight into your soul. How you just wanted to call him all yours.. but a man like him could never fall for a girl like you. That’s what your mind told you all the time.

“What are you thinking about?”, his deep voice brought you back from your thoughts.

“Uhm..”, you started. “Well maybe about what movie we could watch today?”

“You want to watch a movie with me?”, he asked.

“Sure, it’s Christmas and as I have no other plans.. or do you need to go anywhere? Then of course you don’t need to watch a movie with me..”

“(Y/N), of course I’d like to watch a movie with you. Would be my pleasure to spend this Christmas day with you”, he smiled and you felt another wave of butterflies fly around your stomach.

“That’s great”, you grinned. “So, you pick some snacks, and I’ll chose a movie”

“As you wish Ma’am”, he saluted and went to find some chocolate bars, cookies and some other snacks.

Your choice fell on ‘The Christmas Chronicles” on Netflix and Bucky seemed to be satisfied with this decision.

The movie started and you both got comfortable on the couch. Bucky looked around for some blankets, but could only find one. He wanted to put it over your legs but you insisted on sharing it with him.

“You know I’m not freezing at all”, he chuckled.

“But you can pretend to.”, you said as you threw the blanket over him as well and he gave up. Arguing with you was never easy and to be honest, he enjoyed the attention you were giving him and he enjoyed being close to you.

As the movie went on, you both were enjoying your time together, feeding each other with the cookies, laughing at some funny scenes on the screen and you both wished to stay like this forever. Then Bucky shifted on the couch, making him lay down, and you falling to lay in front of him. You were startled first, but as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, you got comfortable in his arms and felt the heat radiating from his body. You didn’t say anything. This moment felt just .. right.

Unfortunately the movie finished way too early and you feared you would have to get up. But Bucky didn’t move an inch. Not sure what to do, you turned around in his arms, facing him. Just to find him staring down at you with a heart-warming smile.

“Thank you.”, Buck whispered.

“For what?”

“For making this the best Christmas I’ve had in 90 years”

You felt the warming feeling in your body come back and as you were about to say something, he put a strand of hair behind your ear, cupped your face in his large hand and leaned down. His lips touched yours in a loving kiss and you immediately kissed him back.

You wanted this since the day he moved into the compound but never thought this would actually happen. And here you were, wrapped in his arms, kissing his smooth lips.

Neither of you wanted to stop, but eventually you both needed air.

He looked down at you with the most loving look you had ever seen. Your lips slightly swollen and your cheeks kept a light shade of red. He swore you were the most beautiful woman he ever met. And he wanted you to be his.

“You cannot imagine how many times I dreamed about this”, he whispered while you ran a hand lightly through his brown hair.

“Me too”, you smiled and that was all he needed to press you even further into his body and kiss you again.

You both didn’t get up from the position you were in. You stayed like that the rest of the day, kissing and cuddling each other until you feel asleep in his arms.

Bucky finally felt peace in his heart, having the friends and family he always wanted around him, and the woman he loved with all of his heart sleeping peacefully in his arms.

#bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier imagines #fandom imagine #captain america imagine #sebastian stan imagine #imagine blog

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marvel-ousnesss · 5 years ago

Text

Little Flame (Hades x reader)

Request: Can I have an imagine where I'm Mal's best friend and I have a crush on Hades and he overhears?

A/N: Made with love, based on @thorxme18 ‘s request (I modified the concept a bit) 🥰 Sorry not sorry but… no smut in this one. Also, this ended up being super long, I think it's like 7k-ish ???? Anyways….. Enjoyyyy and tell me what you think.

Pairing: Hades x reader

Warning: Cursing

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Descendants or any of its characters.

Y/I: your initial

Much to your surprise, everything had changed from the last time some VKs were elected to go off-shore. Everyone who wasn't chosen seemed to be happy for those who were; you wished you'd've had that reaction from your mentor and, you'd dare to say friend, Hades. You couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking about it, it made both your mind and your left foot bounce non-stop as you waited for Mal and Ben to make an entrance at the new students' welcoming ceremony.

Ben thanked his people for their support, but not everyone seemed to be sharing the positive attitude on the VK topic. Beside you, you heard Audrey's grandma, whose name you couldn't remember, scoff, "not like we had a choice."

All you did was roll your eyes, after all your time in Auradon, you had grown used to the comments about you being a villain. You listened to Ben while fidgeting with the sleeve of your dress, a grin plastered across your face in expectancy of what was gonna happen after he finished singing. However, just like it happened with the announcement of new arrivals, not everyone was happy about the king's proposal.

"No!" Audrey screamed, making a few threatening glares, including yours, be thrown her way. As cliché as it may sound, it is right to say that, if looks could kill, Audrey would've been dead within seconds (if her jealousy didn't kill her first).

After Mal said yes, everyone began celebrating and commenting on how romantic the gesture had been, how good of a couple they made, and how lucky Auradon's people were to have them.

"Ben and Mal are the absolute best, I really cannot wait for Mal to be queen," said the girl who was standing next to you.

With a smile, you nodded in agreement, "I know, I mean, they work really well together, and they're such a great couple."

"You'd really rather have a VK on the throne than me?"

The girl just turned around and left, but you faked a smile and mocked, "I think even Carlos' dog would make a better queen."

"You're not one to talk, you're one of them yourself," Chad Charming came to Audrey's defense.

"Why thanks, captain obvious, I was completely unaware of that." You rolled your eyes at them as you began making your way to where your friends were standing.

As soon as Mal came down from the stage, you and Evie engulfed her in a tight hug.

"Did you guys know?"

Evie just sighed and grinned, "everything."

You shrugged nonchalantly, "helped plan it." You hugged her once more, thrilled to see her so happy, "you're gonna be the best queen that this pretty, preppy people can even imagine."

….

You stood next to Evie's desk, scanning a new book of sketches she had made for Mal's wedding dress and munching on a chocolate chip cookie.

"Who else knows about the crown and the scepter?" asked Evie, with her brows slightly frowned.

"No one. I mean, think about it, people are scared enough as it is. We have to employ these entirely new security measures". Mal spoke with confidence as she explained the situation to both of you.

For one, you couldn't believe that such important objects had been stolen, and you understood the fear of the people, knowing from first-hand experience how dangerous and wicked villains could be. However, you didn't support the Isle's complete isolation, it was unfair to take such measures.

"Will this delay our bringing over more V.K.'s?" Evie asked.

Mal sighed and replied, "We're talking about closing the barrier for good."

You gasped. "What? M, they can't do that."

Automatically, Evie's notebook rested on the table next to you and began pacing.

"Not only will you kill dozens of children's illusions to be here, but we'd never get to see the others again. You said no, right?"

"Y/N is right, you know? Besides, the four of us are living the dream, and we finally get to share that. I mean, what could be more important than that?" Evie had always been the most compassionate out of the five of you, so she was trying to lead Mal into the path that seemed the kindest.

"Yeah. I know. I mean, maybe security or maybe peace of mind for everyone in Auradon. People like Hades, dangerous and cruel, could get out of the Isle at any moment, I truly believe that it's best for us to keep the barrier closed. For the sake of our people".

"Our people? M, look, don't get me wrong; I really admire how you care about everyone's safety here at Auradon," you sat on a spare chair, between your two best friends, eyes pleadingly looking at Mal. "But you can't afford to forget where we all come from. Better than anyone, we know that not everyone there is a criminal; and, even some of those who are, want a chance to prove themselves. There must be something, anything that can be done."

Mal seemed a bit taken aback, both of you could see that she was having a hard time with the current situation so, even if you didn't completely agree with the measures that she was telling you about, you gave her your most sincere smile and all the support that you could muster.

"M, I'm so glad that you're going to be Queen. You will be a part of these conversations, you will stand up for the V.K.s. Thank you for telling us. You're gonna be a great Queen".

Mal seemed gave you a small closed-lip smile, you and Evie stood up and hugged her, and she sighed, calming down a bit.

…

You hummed to yourself as you helped Carlos prepare a picnic basket for Jane's birthday party. Chuckling, while Evie threw different fruits at Jay, you folded everyone's towels and neatly arranged them. When you were about to go upstairs, to get your camera, you heard a faint, "later, suckers!" coming from outside.

You all rushed out and, before you could see anything, Jay exclaimed, "Whoa! You might wanna think of a spell for that."

Turns out, Audrey, who apparently was out and about looking for trouble, not only stole the scepter and the crown, but had also turned Mal into an old lady. Your friends were debating over what to do concerning the Audrey issue, when you chimed in, "The only thing more powerful than the scepter is Hades' ember. We need to go get it."

Carlos countered, "Are you sure? I mean, Y/N, can't you fix it with your magic?"

"Sorry guys, but Hades's our only choice, we need to get the ember."

Jay scoffed, "Yeah, right. We can also invite him over for tea."

Carlos gave him a smack on the back of his head, but didn't support your suggestion either.

"He’s right, Y/I,” Evie spoke up, “ besides, no one knows where his lair is”.

You shared a look with Celia, then shrugged, “I do. Actually, we both do.”

“I'm his errand rat. I've got the key at my dad's.”

“Great, you’re both coming,” announced Mal.

To be honest, you missed the dusty air of the Isle; you'd never been a fan of the Olympus, so when the gods decided to kick you, the goddess of devilry in war, daughter of Ares, out of the place, you didn't even bother argue. You greeted Dr. Facilier, waltzed around his shop for a bit, and then exited with your friends.

"Long time nay see," beamed Harry with a wicked grin. The bikes that had brought you were now occupied by pirates of The Lost Revenge's Crew.

Jay was fuming and it showed, he snarled, "get off my bike, Hook.''

"Catch me if you can, Jay!"

And then, they were gone.

You made a move to follow them, as Jay, Carlos, and Evie already had, but Mal placed a hand on your shoulder. "They got this, the three of us gotta gotta go find the ember." So you made your way to Hades'.

With a sigh, you opened the door to one of the most familiar places in the whole Isle.

"Okay, stay quiet," Celia warned. " It echoes, like, crazy in here."

The three of you walked and you could see Mal's eyes bouncing all around the entrance of the 'New Underworld,' as you liked to call it jokingly. When Mal passed besides Severo' s cage, his three mouths snarled menacingly and he began barking; however, it stopped when you passed by and was replaced by happy panting. You looked at him but decided against greeting the three-headed dog, you'd have time for that later. Your best friend sent you a questioning look and you smiled at her, as if telling her "I'll explain later."

The only way of entering the lair was similar to the entrance of the mines in which dwarfs worked back at Charmington. Multiple rail bikes were stationed on the edge, together with some lantern helmets. Each of you took a helmet and got into a bike, which immediately began taking you to where your mentor and friend lived.

You glanced back at Celia and Mal as you explained, "okay, the plan's simple: you'll approach him and get the ember while Celia and I distract him".

"Okay," "alright then," they both agreed.

Given that the former god was fast asleep, you and Celia stayed at the entrance of the cave, while Mal followed your directions and approached him, to take the ember. You mentally cursed as Hades, still unmoving, inquired, "What are you two doing here?"

"We just thought we'd, uh, say hi," Celia tried. When Hades didn't respond, she continued, "also, we noticed that you're low on… on… canned corn."

Not knowing how to support her weak ass excuse, you limited yourself to greet him with a small wave, to which he responded with a smirk and a nod.

"Hi, Dad". Mal remained behind his couch, bending her knees to face him.

"Quite a show you put on the other day," he claimed.

"Right back at you".

After steering awake, he stood up, more like jumped to his feet, "I was just coming to see you!"

Mal didn't believe him, and didn't bother to pretend. "Really? Wonder why.Is it because I'm gonna be Queen?"

"Ah! Now, Mal, don't be bitter".

"You abandoned me when I was a baby," the fae's voice was full of anger and disgust.

The god rolled his eyes and defended himself, "no. no, I left your mother. She's not the easiest person to get along with".

"You think?"

You scoffed, making your way toward the small storage room where all your witchcraft and sorcery materials were sitting, unused ever since you moved to Auradon. While you gathered your possessions, you didn't pay much attention to their interaction, they deserved privacy.

From where you were, you could hear them sing and fight like they hadn't done in the last sixteen years or so.

"Do you wanna make up for being a lousy dad? - Give me the ember," you heard Mal demand.

Hades smirked, "the ember only works for me." And me, you recalled.

"No. It'll work for me. We're blood."

"You're only half Hades. The ember won't do everything for you that it does for me".

"I'll take my chances." Mal began to walk toward where you were, so you took it as a cue to grab your bag and make your exit.

"If it gets wet, it's game over."

When you left, Hades glanced at the cupboard where you kept some things, noticing that, now, the only thing left was a small piece of burnt paper with the words LONG LIVE THE UNDERWORLD messily scribbled on it. His thunderous laugh was faintly heard back on the surface. 'The place does have on hell of an echo'.

Your eyes seemed to be stuck on Mal as you walked back to the barrier; when she noticed you gave her a smile, but felt a kick in your stomach for not telling her which was your connection to him. You could have told her at the lair, but remained silent, thinking it was better to do so when the tension was less.

Everything was quicker than expected, you got in, got the ember after sort of an awkward greeting, and got out. The only problem that you had was the fact that Gil and Harry had now escaped, unleashing a chain of events that had resulted in the oddest of alliances. Long story short, Uma had been roaming the sea all this time, apparently looking for a hole in the barrier; and, while doing that, she had found all the luxury of life outside the dome of the Isle. So, now Mal had promised to guarantee a future for all VKs and you were working with the sea three.

After arriving at Auradon prep, Mal had lead you to the Castle. You looked for Ben with no success, ending up in a room full of knight armours which, speaking of odd, were now charmed to fight. Thanks Audrey. From there, things had gone messy and both gangs were now singing, dancing and fighting for their lives. You did what you could to cover Mal, who was battling two minion armours at once. You swinged your sword and struck the ones around you, with your eyes focused on the scene surrounding you; they were outnumbering you and your group was cornered into the center of the room. However, you couldn't help but notice that the sea witch had dropped the ember, which Audrey had noticed too.

When one of the knights went for the ember, you slashed his head off and went for it too, beating him to it. You concentrated, closing your eyes and clenching your fist around the ember. The familiar burst of blue sparks began to run through you and your eyes opened, glowing silver as you screamed and lifted your arm, making the knights stand completely still before dropping their swords and falling to pieces.

"Y/N?" Mal winded, her wide eyes calling on to an explanation.

You scratched your neck, trying to force your words out, "it's a long story, M."

She pressed on the topic, "Hades said his ember only worked for him, How..."

The others remained quiet, using the time to catch their breaths and recover from the recent encounter; however, Evie's and Carlos' faces mirrored Mal's.

Hesitantly, you revealed the truth. "You guys know I'm sort of a greek goddess myself?," they nodded.

"I am, or I used to be, the goddess of devilry in war, known for being reckless and destructive. This sparked Hades' interest, so he became my mentor and one of my closest friends. When my dad, Ares, found out, he asked Zeus for my permanent expulsion from the Olympus, so I moved in with Hades. Before everything with Hercules and Megara happened, I was already learning everything about the Underworld. Hades' grew to trust me enough to teach me the magic of death so, as it all happened, I learned to use the ember".

The others looked satisfied with your story, but Mal looked at you with an air of betrayal, "so, you've known him all this time," she concluded.

Again, you sighed, "that's right.'’

This time, it was Carlos who spoke, "why didn't you tell us?"

"I don't know, guess, the way I saw it, you guys would've treated me differently knowing that I'm immortal". Okay, that was only half of the truth, but you couldn't risk it in the middle of such an important mission.

Evie smiled at you and, while hugging you, she assured, "Y/N, We love you, no matter what."

Carlos, Jay, and even Mal were quick to join her, showering you with smiles and words of agreement.

"Uh, guys, sorry to interrupt but we gotta keep going," Gil said, making you end the hug and continue your search for the king.

….

On your way to Audrey's room, Mal approached you.

"So… you and my dad being friends, didn't see that one coming," she chuckled.

You shrugged, kicking the dust beneath you, "he was there for me in hard times, the guy has a better heart than what people give him credit for."

She nodded at your words, "How'd you guys meet?"

"We made quick friends in the Troyan war. I was summoned by the greek soldiers and he was there, personally gathering the souls of the fallen. He said my work was great and I complimented his fiery hair, which, as I came to learn, turns out is one of his softy points."

"The Troyan war? So that's why you didn't even open your greek history book," she concluded, lightening the mood.

Audrey was not in her dorm, but Uma found her diary, so you arrived to the conclusion that she was at Fairy Cottage, a place where she had spent a big part of her childhood. Nevertheless, you had all agreed to meet at Evie's after the two hours had passed, so you headed there instead.

When you made it, you saw the three new Vk's fast asleep on the living room, and Evie's boyfriend, Doug, in the same condition but in her study.

Evie fell to the floor beside him, desperately trying to wake him, but to no avail.

Uma rolled her eyes, "he's spelled, is she not a fast learner?"

"She's emotionally involved, okay?" Mal defended her.

"Well, in that case, she should be able to wake him up. True love's kiss".

The atmosphere in the room got thicker with Uma's suggestion, so Evie asked to be left alone with her sleeping boyfriend. After a song and a true love kiss, not to mention with Doug back on his feet, you decided to take a break and have a snack.

You smiled when Mal apologized to Uma, and placed a hand on hers to show your pride and support. However, happiness and peace of mind didn't last long. With loud thuds, wooden boards began to cover the windows and trapped you inside the house. Mal's eyes glowed green as she tried to break Audrey's jinx, but her magic wasn't powerful enough so she and Uma had to join forces. The boards fell down.

Evie hummed, "You did it! Together! This is what I've been talking about".

"I guess my shell likes you," Uma shrugged, wanting to appear nonchalant. "Why don't you hold on to that?"She handed the ember to Mal, but instead of keeping it, she smiled and handed it to you.

"Actually, I think Y/N should have it. She knows it better than I do," she confided.

You thanked your best friend and put the ember away, proceeding to look out the window.

You caught a breath but, before you said anything, Celia announced, "hey, it's your bae!"

That's all it took for all of you to rush outside, stopping on your tracks when you saw the guys on Evie's front yard. With a smile plastered on your face, you hugged Jay and Carlos, and smiled at the pirates and Ben (who was Busy greeting his queen-to-be).

"I'm so glad you guys are okay," you raved. "All of you," once again, your eyes fell on Gil and Harry.

After reuniting, you had to part ways once more; Jane, Gil, and Doug went to find Fairy godmother, and the rest went looking for Audrey to Fairy Cottage.

….

Frankly, it was quite predictable that Audrey would, yet again, outsmart you; so, when she wasnt in her hideout anymore, you weren't as surprised. To say that going there had been a loss of time would be inaccurate, given that you had witnessed a sort of amusing scene when Ben freed Chad.

You were walking together, abandoning Fairy cottage, when Ben demanded that, someday, he had to hear how Mal and Uma ended up working for a common cause. You shared a look with Evie, and she happily declared, "Actually, Mal promised to let all the kids off the Isle - once this is over".

"Mal?" The king inquired.

The fae sighed defeated, which you didn't understand.

"I have to tell you guys something. Um… I lied to you," she confessed. "No one will be coming off the Isle".

You couldn't help but get angry at her, how could she give you so much hope only to crash it? You knew that if you opened your mouth, you wouldn't be able to control your words so, with your eyes locked in the ground, you stood motionless.

She continued, "the program is shut down. And the barrier… will be closed for good. For Auradon's safety."

Uma spoke up, looking at Mal with a deadly glare. "Hold up. So we're saving your precious people and your behinds for a lie. I knew it was a mistake to trust you. You're always out for yourself".

Harry followed his captain's example, facing Ben.

"And you, King Benny..." he bowed, approaching your friend, "you're probably just gonna throw us all back inside".

It was not the badass pirates who raised their voices in that moment, it was the broken children who had discovered that they had been, in fact, fighting for a heartless lie this whole time.

"You know what? I actually thought you were brave. You're nothing but a chicken." Celia's voice broke when she spoke, sounding so betrayed that it wrecked you. "Too scared to tell me I was never gonna see my dad again".

You went after Celia, throwing the ember at mal with your back facing her. Unnoticed by you, the magical gem had landed on a tiny puddle on the forest floor; but that had been enough to extinguish its light.

"No! No," Mal exclaimed, tears beginning to flood her eyes.

"Regain your might and ignite! Regain your might and ignite!" Despite her desperate tries, the ember did not light back on.

The two pirates left to find their friend, showing no empathy at all and not bothering to look back.

At least now, Mal had the guts to face her friends and apologize. She directed her words at Evie and the others, but wished that you were there too, even if she didn't deserve it at that moment.

"Evie… I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I just… I thought that... I was afraid to tell you. I thought I was gonna lose my best friend.I… I just lost Y/N! But I had to do something. I had to protect Auradon".

Evie brought herself to ask, "closing the barrier was your idea?"

Mal sobbed, defending herself, "I did it for us. I did it for our life that we have here now."

"For our life? What about the kids that we left behind on that island? The kids that we promised? We were their only hope. I thought you were gonna stand up for the V.K.'s. But instead, you lied to them. And you lied to Jay. And you lied to Carlos. And you lied to Y/N. And you lied to me. We're your family."

"I'm gonna go look for Y/N," whispered Jay, only for Carlos to hear.

When the younger boy nodded, the thief began to run in the direction in which you had previously left. After a few yards, he found you, throwing rocks into a small pond. He kneeled to sit next to you, but with a cloud of pink fog, he turned to rock. That's what let you know that Audrey was near, probably going after Mal, so you jumped to your feet and ran back to your friends. There they were, all of them turned to rock; but Mal was nowhere to be found.

Okay, think, think, she has to be somewhere near. Where would M go? She'd go find Audrey; now, where would Audrey go… The castle!

So, that's where you went and when you arrived, you saw your friend begging the pirate sea witch for her help. You were about to make your presence known, but you were snatched off your feet and hit with something on the back of your head.

You woke up on one of the towers next to Celia, who practically threw herself into your embrace.

"It's gonna be fine," you tried to reassure her.

"No, it's not," scoffed Audrey, grabbing Celia by her forearm and forcing her to stand up. "Now, scream for help," she ordered, "I need Mal up here so I can end her once and for all."

Celia complied. "Help me, Mal!" she screamed.

"Don't listen to her, Mal! Go find the others," you tried to warn her but Audrey put the scepter against Celia's neck; "say another word, and she's done with," she threatened.

"Save your little friend, Mal!"

"Help me, Mal!"

You cheered when you saw Mal approaching in her dragon form, but a glare from Audrey was enough to shut you up.

"Careful not to fry your little V.K. buddy!"

Audrey was distracted by Mal so you took the chance and jumped from the tower, landing on your feet. You ran to Uma and Harry, who were still there, watching the whole thing.

You dusted off your jacket and approached them, "are you guys okay?"

"Yeah, but she doesn't stand a chance without the ember," claimed Uma.

''We're stronger together. We're stronger together!" She tried to use her shell, but it was not working. "I'm right here, Mal! Regain your might and ignite. I'm right here, girl," the ember flickered lit but it didn't last long.

"Let me help, you placed your hand over Uma's, grabbing the shell with her. "We're right here. Regain your might and ignite!"

Your eyes gleamed silver and you beamed, "It worked!"

In that moment, Harry took you by surprise when he hugged you and Uma at the same time, not caring about 'sides'. You hugged the pirates back and grinned.

"Thanks Uma," you smiled, "and I'm sorry for everything".

Even if Mal had already apologized to Uma, you felt the need to do the same because, even if you did everything under your friend's lead, you had still been terrible with her.

"S'alright," she returned the smile, "and I'm glad we did this together."

…

For what seemed to be the thousandth time you closed your eyes and concentrated on the ember, but the result was not different from the previous attempts. You fell back into Ben's arms, panting.

"Sorry, guys, but I'm not powerful enough. The ember's laced to Hades' magic, not mine."

"There must be something that we can do, she's slipping away," Evie insisted.

"As Y/N said, there's only one person in the world who might be able to do something about this, and that's Hades," said Mal.

"Hades? He wouldn't do it. I wouldn't risk it,"Ben tried to reason.

"Actually, he might do it for me. He's my father," Mal revealed.

"I'll send guards to get him,"offered Ben.

"I can go get him," you volunteered, "I know where his lair is."

Ben looked at you questioningly; "he's, uh, an old friend of mine," you wrinkled your nose.

Uma entered the ro

\om, followed by Harry. "Maybe I can hitch a ride. The Isle is my home, someone needs to be there to protect it."

"Well, then, you will need your first mate". You smiled at them, already fond of the pirates.

"The Isle will be in very good hands."

The room fell silent, but Celia broke the ice, "Can I go, too?I wish I could be in both places," she gave Mal a sad smile.

So, it was settled. You were leaving the following day.

….

"I'll be back soon, stay here," you told the guards.

"Good luck, Y/N," Uma placed her hand on your shoulder and you smiled at her.

"Thanks, guys, for everything."

"Nay," shrugged Harry, "no big deal but, seriously, if ya ever visit, come to the ship."

With that, you parted ways. You knew how to get to Hades' by heart, from every part of the Isle; so it took you no time to reach the entrance of his lair.

You let out a breath and went in.

"Look who showed up after the curtain closed, heard you helped Mal beating the witch wannabe," he didn't even have to look your way to know who had traspassed his property; it was enough with the sound of your step.

"I… How did you even hear that?" You tried to avoid the elephant in the room.

Ignoring your question, he continued as he added what you noticed were the final ingredients to one of the potions that he sold at the market. "Congrats, really. Guess I taught you well. Now, let me guess, you came to say a final goodbye now that you're welcomed to join the goodie-two-shoes once again; it was fun having you, Y/N/N."

Now, you straight up scoffed at him, "dude, chill, don't get all cheesy and sad on me. I'm here because I need a favor; actually, Mal needs a favor."

He looked at you and you could see that he was angry, broken, and yet willing to help you out once again, "okay then, little flame, I'm listening.

You looked around the room, then looked at him, "It's Audrey, she's under the sleeping curse."

He crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow, "so what, didn't you use the ember to wake her?"

"Couldn't do it," you admitted. "Guess I'm not as connected to it anymore."

He scoffed, glaring at you, "Who would've thought, it's been what, four years? Not that I'm keeping record."

Even if his tone was sharp and his eyes seemed hateful, you could read him like an open book; and, to say that it broke you to see him so hurt because of you was quite too little to express what you felt. "Hades, I… I'm sorry."

At this point, your eyes were boring into his pleadingly, but his pride didn't let him forgive you so easily.

"You're sorry?" he exclaimed. "Jeez, little flame, that's a relief! I'm glad a lowlife villain like myself is at least worthy of your apologies!"

For a moment, your sadness and regret were clouded by anger. You were forcing yourself to be brave enough to make amends and here he was, being a complete dick without even listening to you.

Stepping closer to him, with only a few inches between the two of you, you barked, "look, I'm actually trying here. So if you could shove your ego up your ass for a second and listen, that'd be fucking great!"

He smirked, closing the gap even more, "at least you haven't completely lost it yet."

When the steam of the moment dissolved into the air, you stepped back and sat down, using your hand for inviting him to do the same. "Now, the truth is, I did try to call; I tried to reach you the last time I was here, but I… I don't know. I was afraid of losing Mal to you. I was afraid of losing the world outside to you."

He remained silent so you continued, "When I was chosen to go to Auradon, I thought I had lost everything. Then I just met all of this great people and discovered that I'd… I..." you huffed. "Who am I trying to trick. The truth is I was awfully ungrateful with you, and a terrible friend and I'm really sorry."

He quirked a brow.

"Yes, I'm sorry, and as much as you'd like to hear more, that's all that I have to say."

"What were you saying about not getting all sad and cheesy? Oh, right, 'dude chill!' " He mocked you with a high pitched voice, making you smile.

"When do we leave?"

"As soon as possible."

….

When you got to Auradon, the guards told you that the king had sent specific instructions for Hades' stay. You were forced to head back to your place, and he was kept in a small version of the magic dome for the night. Next morning, when you were already back at Audrey's dorm, he was taken there by at least eight guards.

The former god entered the room, his limbs adorned with silver cuffs, and his face sporting a snarl of disgust to which you had become familiar with a long time ago.

Mal walked up to him, closely followed by you.

"Thank you," she said, "for coming."

"Didn't do it just for you," his eyes caught yours.

Ben and Mal shared a confused look, but the king broke it and asked, "can you wake her?'’

"Since when do heroes care about villains?" asked Hades, turning the cards around.

Ben trailed off, "she's..."

The god completed the young king's sentence, "one of your own. Right, When you guys try to destroy the world… it's an error in judgment. But when it's one of us… lock them up and throw away the key."

He scoffed, "right, Beast?"

After having a stare down with the former king, who had imprisoned the god and stripped him off his magic all those years ago, he raised his hands, but the guards restrained him immediately, going full defense.

"Yeah. I'm gonna need to use my hands," he declared.

He extended his hand, silently asking for the ember. Mal handed it to him and this time he was not restrained.

When he grabbed the gem that was rightfully his, his hair lit up.

He smirked, "haven't lost my touch."

The former lord of the dead stepped closer to the bed, he began the countercourse and the room was showered on a blue light, beaming with his power.

Audrey woke up, wishing for it all to be a nightmare. "I'm sorry. I wanted to hurt you both. I wanted to hurt all of you," she sighed.

Mal and Ben approached her bed. "I have owed you an apology for… a very long time now," said Mal, Ben agreed, "and so have I."

Then, Audrey's grandma, whose name you still couldn't recall, apologized to Mal. Just then, Beast motioned the guards to seize Hades, and to take him away once again. How classy, apparently a villain didn't even deserve a thank you.

After the guards exited the room, you followed them into the hallway.

"Wait! Guess I'll see you later," you smiled. "Say hi to Pain and Panic for me."

"They'll be thrilled to hear from you," he tried to smirk back, his expression just as sad as yours. "Thanks for a glimpse of the sun, by the way."

Without thinking twice, you walked up to him and pressed your lips to his, framing his left cheek with your right hand. The kiss wasn't as hungry as you would've expected it to be, but it was eager and full of feelings. It was the perfect way to say I'm gonna miss you.

No word was uttered afterwards. Your foreheads remained against each other for a few seconds, and his blue eyes looked at yours in a way in which they hadn't before, yet he didn't smile. You both stepped back, turned around, he slipped the ember into your hand, and then you left your separate ways. You smiled to yourself and held the familiar gem, feeling its power and warmth curse through you.

Days passed and you couldn't stop thinking about that kiss; you hadn't told anyone and it was eating you alive. So, now that you were at Evie's, wrapped around a blanked by the fire, watching a movie with your two best friends, you were gonna do it. You grabbed the remote and pressed pause, taking a breath and looking at them.

"Guys I need to tell you something. I'm sorry if it upsets you but it's been drowning me for some time now. I, I kissed Hades the day he came here to wake Audrey up."

Evie smiled at you but Mal was frozen in shock, her mouth was agape and her eyes were wide open. She tried to say something but words didn't come out.

You continued, fidgeting with your blanket, "M, I know that things have been quite tense between you but I couldn't lose him; I couldn't let him go back to the Isle without knowing how I felt and, believe me, I've tried to tell you guys before but I was also figuring this whole thing out."

Evie grabbed Mal's hand supportingly, then the fae took a breath and smiled at you. "Thanks for telling me this, Y/I.''

"You guys, you're my best friends. There's no one else I'd trust with this," you smiled at them, glad that they'd had taken it so well.

Mal sighed, "still, I can't reverse my decret to close the barrier Y/N. I'm sorry, you know that no matter what, I'll always be there for you; but I have a kingdom to think of and, even if Hades has helped us out and, even if he's your friend or… whatever he is," she chuckled, both of you joining for a second, "I can't overlook the crimes he's committed."

Your head and your heart were divided. You knew that Mal was speaking as a queen and not as a friend, and were utterly happy that she supported you, even with everything that was going on between her and Hades; but you couldn't stop yourself from being disappointed in the fact that she didn't even consider letting him out of the Isle.

Even so, you gave her a tender smile and hummed, "I know M, and I wouldn't think of asking you to do it for me. I just had to talk this out with you, it didn't feel right to keep it to myself."

"We're happy for you, Y/I," Evie smiled.

"Very," agreed Mal.

…..

Now, a few days later, you were happy again, as happy as you could be with everything that had happened. Standing between Evie and Carlos, you clapped as Ben and Mal appeared on the balcony.

"Lady Mal and I wanna thank you for celebrating our engagement with us today. I couldn't be prouder or happier to call you my Queen." Ben looked at Mal lovingly, and to be honest you felt only a bit jealous of their happiness; but they both deserved it, after going through so much. "So… raise your glasses to our future Queen of Auradon."

"To our Queen of Auradon!”

"To our Queen of Auradon!" you cheered.

"Speech, Your Special-ness," mocked Carlos.

Jay followed, "speech, Your Fancy One."

"Speech, your oh-so-royalness," you winked at her.

She chuckled and smiled apologetically, then she fell serious and the crowd became silent.

She turned toward Ben, "I can't. I can't be Queen of Auradon. I can't turn my back on the Isle."

After you looked at her, nodding in encouragement, she began talking to the people. 'We made a decision… to close the barrier forever; and it was my idea, but it's wrong. I've learned that you can't live in fear because it doesn't actually protect you from anything. You never know where the bad is gonna come from. And you never know where the heroes are gonna come from either."

Carlos grabbed your hand, in assurance.

Mal continued, "Without Uma and her pirates, Auradon would be gone. And without Hades, my father, Audrey would be gone. We are all capable of good and bad, no matter which side of the barrier we come from. And that's why I can't be Queen of just Auradon. I have to be Queen of the Isle, too. And it's time that we take the barrier down forever."

Ben placed a hand on her back, and spoke in her support. "I choose to be a King who moves forward. It's time for forgiveness. It's time for new beginnings. The barrier will come down!"

"Yes!" "Woo!" you and Carlos cheered.

"Bring it down, Mal," and so, the five of you did it together.

After everyone on both sides had processed what had just happened, a sea of villains and vks flooded the bridge and came to Auradon; your eyes surfed the crowd, looking for the face you wanted to see, but he was nowhere in sight. Some of the Auradon kids made their way to the gates, to welcome the newcomers, so you joined your friends at the very front of the bunch.

Everyone was dancing and singing and celebrating, so you let the vibes absorb you. You danced and cheered with the rest, but when the party mood dimmed out a bit, you finally saw the spikes of blue hair that you were looking for moments before. However, you didn't approach Hades, you went straight to Mal.

"He came," you said, anxiety dripping from you.

She smiled at you reassuringly and advised, "Get out there and tell him how you feel; he's a complete idiot not to feel the same."

"M, I can't," you insisted, "what if he doesn't?"

She smirked at you, "as I said, only a complete idiot wouldn't like you back."

You let out a breath, shook your fear out, and looked around to see where he was. Much to your despair, or your relief, he had been standing behind a group of people nearby.

"So, how exactly do you feel?" he smirked. "I think it wasn't clear enough the other day."

"Look, I've liked you for quite sometime now," you confessed. "Maybe a few decades. The kiss the other day, it was just me spilling it all; you don't have to like me back, but I just had to tell you."

" 'Dude, chill! Don't get all cheesy on me'," again, there was his cheap impression of you.

This time, you couldn't help but laugh and roll your eyes at him and, before you could say anything, his hands flew to your waist and his lips were on yours once again. This time, both of you were absorbed by the moment and let the kiss be everything that the first one had not been. He bit your lower lip and granted himself entrance to your mouth, which you accepted happily. You separated to catch your breath and smiled. He looked at you like he had before and avowed, "Nah, I think I don't like you that much, little flame."

Once again, you laughed and punched him playfully, "shut up, really."

"Or what?" he challenged, making you blush.

You recovered quickly, and whispered into his ear, "I guess you'll find out later, maybe at my place."

"Welcome to Auradon, by the way." You kissed his cheek, grabbing his hand and leading him to where Mal and the others were.

#hades x reader #hades imagine #hades onshot #descendants x reader #descendants imagine #discendants oneshot #disney descendants #Mal #mal imagine #evie #carlos de vil #jay #gil #harry #uma #audrey #chad charming #descendants 3

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multific · 5 years ago

Text

Soundtrack

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

Request: Hey! Could you do an imagine where y/n is a pianists/musician and she meets Timothée on set (or something like that). Few months later she wins an Oscar for CMBYN soundtrack and Tim is proud of her. He could be a boyfriend or just a friend (it’s up to you ). Thanks! Have a nice day!

Music was all you ever knew. All you ever cared for and loved.

Since the moment you were able to reach your grandma’s piano, all you did was sit there while she taught you.

Then your obsession became your passion and you were very talented in it. While others were playing around, going to high school, had boyfriends, you composed and practiced.

You won many prizes with your performance and then came the biggest opportunity, you got the job to compose, write songs and music for movies.

You started off with small projects and small or short songs. But then Call Me By Your Name came around. A movie about two men in love. You read the novel and absolutely loved it, you couldn’t wait to see the movie itself.

When all of your soundtracks and the main theme song was done, you met the cast.

Armie Hammer took you off of your legs in a matter of seconds with his sweetness, however, the one who caught your eye was Timothée. And something in you told you that he liked you just as much as you did.

However after that one time, you didn’t meet with him.

Months passed and you got new jobs. Then you got the news that the movie will be premiering and you were to attend the red carpet event.

It wasn’t unusual for you to be standing in front of hundreds of people, but this was slightly different. Because as soon as you arrived, you were bombed with interviewers asking questions.

Was this normal to ask the composer?

Thankfully during a rather uncomfortable interview, you felt a hand on your back and as you looked there he stood, head full of curls, smile just as wide as on the day you met and he looked extremely handsome in a suit.

“Let me help.” he whispered to you.

He must have noticed how uncomfortable you were with the cameras and people around you, and he came to your rescue. And thanks to him, you soon found yourself to be in a more secure place.

“Thank you.” you said smiling at him.

“You are not used to this, are you?”

“Oh, I had many competitions and I used to perform in front of people, but this was a bit much.”

“Understandable. I’m sorry if I’m rude, but I cannot remember seeing you during shootings, which was your character?” he asked, and you had to admit his thinking face was rather cute.

“Oh, no, you got it wrong. I’m not an actress, I wrote the soundtrack for the movie! We met once back in March I think.”

“I’m sorry. I remember now. You are quite something, the soundtrack came out amazing.” he smiled.

“Thank you. I will have to see about your acting though. I haven’t seen it yet.” at that the two of you laughed a bit, then he had to leave.

You were so disappointed that you couldn’t sit next to him. Timothée wasn’t only handsome and charming but something about him helped you keep your calm.

You loved the movie, however, it was a bit weird to hear the songs you heard thousands of times before, but they sure fit.

You were pleased with the end result and the movie as well. The story was still heart-warming for you and the acting, perfection.

Too bad you couldn’t tell Timothée that.

That’s what you thought, but fate and Timothée had other ideas.

***

You wanted to try yourself out in a competition. They were advertising their show where they were looking for young talented pianists who wrote their own songs on the tv the other week and you decided to sign up.

You weren’t really in it to win, it was more for that you needed to write more and move out a bit.

You had a month left and you were still struggling to finish your piano piece. Since you just got the news that Call Me By Your Name soundtrack got nominated for the Oscar’s and you could potentially win an Oscar for it, blew your mind, you were so shocked and happy, you couldn’t think straight for days.

That is how you found yourself in your studio, sitting by the piano, with a pen in one hand the other on your half-finished piece.

Nothing seemed to work. You decided to go with a piece about love and passion. You wanted to feel the same as you did when you did the movie’s soundtrack. You remember feeling all sorts of things purely based on the novel you read.

Even if you never really experienced love before. Then Timothée popped into your head.

And as if a lightbulb got lit above your head, you threw the papers away to grab new ones.

Your new strategy was simple, yet effective, a piano play about crushes.

That could work.

You were so into the song, you didn’t hear the knock on the door behind you. The door opened and a person came in, you failed to notice since you were distracted and you couldn’t hear because of the piano.

However when a hand was placed onto your shoulder, it made you jump and nearly fall off the chair.

“Sorry, sorry. I knocked but you didn’t seem to hear.”

That voice.

And surely enough, Timothée was standing right in front of you. With a hand still placed onto your chest in a weak attempt to calm yourself, you gave him a small smile.

“It’s okay, I was just…in thought.”

“It actually sounded rather nice. Sad but happy at the same time. What is it about?” he asked so casually like it wasn’t weird at all that he was just there out of nowhere. But you just went with it as he sat beside you.

“It’s for a contests I signed up for. The theme is… crushes. I just… something about it is both sad and happy, like you have these feelings for someone you barely know, and it's sad because you know you just can’t reach them and happy because it makes you all fuzzy and warm when you think about them.”

“WOW. You really are talented. To tell a story like that with piano…amazing. I can relate to that feeling.” you watched him as he just sat there, staring at the piano key and then he hit it with one finger.

Then you got an idea. You started to play the piano duet from Tim Buton’s Corpse Bride. He seemed to recognize it, but it was clear, he couldn’t play it. You heard that he practiced playing the piano and the guitar.

“I’m sure you’ll win.” he said after you ended the song.

“Thank you, it’s a small competition bu-“

“No, I meant the Oscar.” he said as you locked eyes with him. You blushed a little.

“I can’t possibly win that. Have you seen the others? They are experienced. I was just lucky even to get nominated. People might just be confusing a great story and amazing acting with the soundtrack.”

“You can’t possibly think that to be true. I think, that 1/3 of a movie is acting and the story and 2/3 is the music. Music makes people emotional, music is what makes us help feel things. Like in sad moments, if you put the right song over it, people are sure to cry or laugh or feel the tension. You did an incredible job. When I first saw the scenes with the music over them, it blew me away, I needed to know who did such an amazing job. You will win for sure.”

“Thank you, really. I feel a bit more confident now, I still have my doubts and when I go next week, I’m sure I’ll faint, but still, thank you.” he smiled at you, that signature happy smile of his.

“Then, we should go together. I’m invited anyway, and if we go together, it might help you calm down.”

“Good idea. I have to ask though. Are we going as…friends or?”

“No, you’ll be my date. If you want to, I don’t want to pressure you or anything.”

“I’d love to.”

***

You never actually went out to buy a dress like this one before but since you will be attending the biggest award show, with no other than Timothée, you needed to look good. You even called your best friend to come and help you out. And he delivered. He chose you a gorgeous dress, the color complimented your skin complexion, and the length was perfect for your height. Your back wasn’t covered by fabric, however, the dress did have a jewel-like back. You looked marvelous in the dress and you knew, Timothée will love it.

So, you stood in front of your mirror, looking at yourself for the hundredth time when the doorbell rang.

You opened the door, and it was exactly who you expected. With his curly hair, amazing eyes, and smile.

“You look beautiful.” he said as he handed you a bouquet of flowers.

“Thank you, and for the flowers too.” you went to place the delicate flowers into a vase while he came after you and looked around your home. He had to admit, it was exactly how he imagined it. It was almost like someone looked up musician aesthetics on Pinterest and made a home out of it. But he had to also admit that it looked rather nice and homey.

When you came back with the vase and placed it on your table, you found Timothée petting your cat. Weird, your cat never liked strangers or anyone besides you really.

“She likes you.” you said as he looked at you while the cat purred and rubbed its head against Timothée’s hand.

“She’s cute.”

After that the two of you left and you were very nervous.

You knew you wouldn’t win the Oscar, yet you were hopeful. And with Timothée by your side, you were able to calm down and walk the red carpet, even answered some questions about the two of you.

Timothée didn’t hide the fact that he saw you more than a friend, an interviewer asked if you were his date which he responded with, “I’m her date!” You didn’t mind it though, at least you knew what to expect from him.

You ended up winning.

Which shocked you so much, you froze when you heard your name being called, Timothée was the one to push you to stand and get your award.

After everything went down and you could finally go home, you could only think about the fact that you were an Oscar winning composer. You felt wonderful, joyful, and proud. And you will surely call every person you know the next day and show them your new treasure.

Little did you know that the gold statue not only awarded you with a new chapter of your life in composing and music, but with a new relationship too with a certain handsome actor none the less.

And what a wonderful boyfriend Timothée was. You told him from the beginning that you weren’t good with love, since you never really had time for it. He was more than understanding with you. He not only inspired and helped you, but he also took you wherever he went. He took you all around the world. When he took you to France for a weekend, just the two of you, he even spoke French, which didn’t really shock you, but you had to admit, it sounded sexy when he spoke a different language.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight.” you heard him whisper in your ear as the two of you stood on the balcony of the hotel room. It was late at night and of course, your room had a direct view at the Eiffel Tower.

“Thank you.” you said as you felt him squeeze you closer to him. Heat radiated off of him, and it made you feel cozy.

You knew that this was only the beginning of your love story with Timothée, but something in you told you that the two of you were meant to be. Your life felt more than full with him in it.

All thanks to a movie.

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thegreymoon · 5 years ago

Note

How hot is the character: Webb and Keegan Sherman 😏

*dodges sharp objects and runs into hiding*

I know, I know!! 😫 Just hear me out on this one, OK?

First of all, let me just make it clear that this was absolutely deliberate on the show’s part. The whole point of this character (characters?) is that they are physical perfection and should be so hot, they would set the scenery on fire wherever they pass, yet they are so fantastically creepy, the hotness is just lost and you are sitting there, laughing uncomfortably, going what the everloving fuck?? 😅

Also, let me make it clear, this is yet another role where we see just how absolutely talented Bradley is, he is just gifted when it comes to comedy (not that he doesn’t do the serious, dramatic roles perfectly too, as we all have Damien to attest to that).

All the characters in this show are caricatures to a greater or lesser degree, the villains are all ridiculous and hilarious. The Sherman twins are so incredibly unlikeable in every possible way, but they are absolutely entertaining! At one point, Leah describes them as “these creepy twins” and it couldn’t be more accurate! When I say “not my type”, I mean, they are exactly what you would expect a cartoon villain in a cartoon to be like; they are obscenely rich, live in this bubble of privilege and self-indulgence and are completely devoid of all empathy and conscience. Of course, this is carefully tailored to provoke a certain level of disgust in the target audience, considering the sociopolitical climate we are currently living in and the outrageous, ever-growing gap between the rich and the poor. The Sherman twins are a cardboard cutout of the sociopathic billionaire we all reserve our unrestrained loathing for.

Mind you, physically attractiveness aside, the moral failings of various kinds of villains have never stopped anyone from thirsting after them (Kylo Ren and the clown from It come to mind, but hey, I have a loooooong list of my own guilty sins so I’m really not judging). However, one thing this show is extremely good at is taking obviously hot people and situations that should be sexy by all established norms of modern media and making them as unsexy as they possibly can in the most obvious but understated ways.

The Sherman twins are such a great example of this. Let’s start with their introduction scenes; the fencing duel is such an obvious, tropey thirst trap! It’s written and designed in a way that should (stereotypically) hit all the right buttons. Like, Bradley, goddamn:

But then they go and do *this*:

Poof! All sexiness evaporated (and everyone who has watched this show will know exactly what I’m talking about 😂😂)!

Also, let’s talk about the incest. I was expecting the subtext (I’d seen all the stills and gifs, after all), but come on now, that is not subtext, it couldn’t be more obvious and there is not a single scene with the two of them together that does not rub it in! Mind you, sibling incest, especially twincest, also never stopped anyone from thirsting (yours truly here pleads the Fifth, not that her AO3 is any kind of evidence against her or anything 🙄🙄), but these two are just so goddamn creepy as individuals and as a pair.

With all that said and the general understanding that the Sherman twins are the actual worst, Bradley James himself in this role is:

| 🔥🔥LORD MERCY🔥🔥 |

I mean, this man is a Greek statue, OMG 😭 If he was born in the ancient times, I’m convinced he would be worshipped as a demigod or something:

Honourable mention to these strategically placed flowers:

And the infamous handjob scene:

(When this happened, I howled, I can’t believe they actually went there! Anyway, yes, the resulting mental imagery was very much appreciated! 😂😂)

In conclusion: Bradley James is perfection, news at 11, but I am going to take this opportunity to warmly recommend this show to anyone who has not seen it because, sadly, it doesn’t look like it’s getting much traction and I was shocked by how vicious the reviews on IMDb were when this is, hands down, one of the best things I’ve watched recently.

The show is just hilarious, almost the entire cast is amazing, I loved every second and binge-watched the first season without even noticing! There was not a dull moment for the whole six episodes! It was such a breath of fresh air in all the cliched, poorly written, depressing nonsenseI’ve been watching lately and the pointless violence and unapologetic misogyny masquerading as being ‘gritty’, ‘edgy’ and ‘realistic’.

Don’t get me wrong, Bounty Hunters is both shockingly violent and incredibly filthy (seriously, I did not expect that amount of graphic, brutal death going in), but it works. I am also not a fan of comedy in general, humour very rarely clicks for me, but this had me sobbing! The characters are so vibrant, vivid and interesting (with the exception of Nina’s niece 😫 Seriously, who did that girl have dirt on to get hired, she can’t act to save her life and was, beyond a doubt, the worst part of the show and her scenes were the only ones to pull me out of the story, but they managed to do it every single time, she is that bad 😖)!

The main villains were all delightfully unlikeable and evil (with the exception of the ISIS bunch, who had zero charisma or interesting points and were just kind of… there). The Sherman twins were terrible but hilarious, the cartel was one of my favourite things in the show, Barnaby’s father was just so sleazy but I think that particular actor could make me laugh at anything! Barnaby and Nina are the only actual ‘goodies’ in the show (their words 😂😂) but they are so flawed and ridiculous and not afraid to laugh at their own expense! I just loved them! (Also, their mothers were a piece of work, Barnaby’s mother in particular, that woman is gifted, I swear 😂😂)

And I am really digressing here, but I just have to talk about those reviews on IMDb because I personally found the worst of the complaints completely ridiculous and something I couldn’t disagree with more! They mostly seemed to have an issue with the unapologetic violence, but for me, that was a part of the charm and there is no rule that says that comedy should be kid and family-friendly. I thought this was sufficiently grim without going overboard into exploitative and gross, and in spite of the dark undertones, the overall theme of the show is family, loyalty and love. Also, the second thing that really stuck out to me is that some people really seem to have an issue with the lead actress being an older woman, some complete moron called her a grandma in a derogatory fashion and said that she cannot be ‘a badass woman’ because of it (or a romantic interest, I imagine). Personally, I loved the unusual age difference, where, for once, the woman gets to be the older, more experienced and the more badass one, and the man gets to be young, pretty and naive. They don’t actually get together in the first season (I don’t know about the second one, I haven’t gotten around to it yet), but I personally enjoyed their will-they-won’t they and all the banter (seriously, I have not actively shipped the two het m/f leads in a show in ages). Besides, Barnaby and Nina have crazy amounts of chemistry together and I could totally get behind the two of them having all the filthy, kinky sex they can physically manage! Not to mention, I find it so incredibly offensive that an older woman somehow can no longer be hot of badass (and Nina is so, so hot and badass) and it is depressing that in the year of our Lord 2020 we still have to deal with this sexist, ageist, misogynistic tripe. If the ages were reversed, I promise you, nobody would be complaining! /end rant

And since I’m already way, way off-topic (and the general topic is all about hot people, after all), I’d just like to gush about these two 🔥🔥 LORD MERCY 🔥🔥 individuals, because goddamn:

This is Charity Wakefield, she plays Leah in the show (who is an absolute delight), and she is, IMO, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen 😍

And this smouldering piece of perfection is Christian Ochoa:

And these two stupid hot people somehow manage to have the least sexy sex in the history of TV (multiple times!!) and make a demon baby together (I hope, but like I said, I haven’t season 2 yet) 😂 As I mentioned earlier, this show loves to mess with our expectations of perceived hotness and I found it so refreshing and hilarious! 😂😂

I fully admit that if it wasn’t for Bradley James, Bounty Hunters is something that I would never have picked up (I very much doubt it would have even crossed my radar because I really am not a fan of comedies in general), but I am very, very grateful that I did! I am looking forward to season 2 and I read that season 3 is also in the works (please, Bradley, come back for that one too and do some more nude scenes with strategically placed flowers, we are all begging)! 😜

#how hot is that character #bradley james #bounty hunters #the sherman brothers #webb sherman #keegan sherman #sherman twins #charity wakefield #christian ochoa #damien is coming next #big sorry to the anons waiting for these #i just have so many opinions #and so much typing to do #i can't manage it on my phone without a keyboard #and these last few weeks have been hellish with work #and all the viruses i regularly pick up on public transport #Anonymous

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stolethekey · 5 years ago

Note

Hellohello I just read “it’s your love I’m lost in” and it was AMAZING. I absolutely loved it. idk if you take requests or not but if you do I’m begging you to write something abt Jake and Amy reuniting after the snap is reversed. It’s totally okay if you don’t want to, I just figured I would ask. Your writing is amazing and I hope you have a great day!!

hiiiiii wow thank you so much this is so nice i’m –

anyway this took SO long but i did write it finally so here u go

(also tagging @johnny-and-dora bc they also asked for it. hi friend hope this isn’t disappointing)

if ao3 is more your jam you can find this here!

and if you missed the first part you can find it on tumblr here or ao3 at the link above!!

Five years is a long time.

It is long enough for Amy to develop a rapport with her officers that is almost as familial as the one back with the Nine-Nine’s detectives. It is long enough for Cagney and Lacey Jeffords to complete middle school and start high school, and it is long enough for baby Ava to start fourth grade.

Five years is also not long enough.

It is long enough for Holt to hire a new assistant, but not long enough for the assistant’s desk to feel less empty. It is not long enough for Rosa to stop eating honorary takoyaki for lunch on the second Tuesday of every month, even as she gags while opening the bag.

It is not long enough for the precinct to heal.

The pain is duller now, and there is generally more laughter in the air, but there is still a palpable sense of grief and loss that underlies the daily hustle and bustle of the building.

It’s why Amy keeps a bag of sour candy in her office at all times – it’s why she sits through Die Hard every Christmas, even if she would rather be watching It’s a Wonderful Life. It’s why the ring on her left hand has not yet disappeared off her finger.

It’s also why she really, really, does not want to answer her phone on her day off.

The name Gary Jennings glares at her from her phone screen, and she groans as she reaches to grab it off the coffee table.

“Santiago.”

“Hi, Sarge, it’s me, Gary – “

“It’s my day off,” Amy grumbles, letting her copy of Pride and Prejudice fall into her lap. “Give me this one day of peace. Please.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry, but – “

“Is someone hurt? Someone dying?”

“Um, no, but – “

“Then find a way to deal with it,” she interrupts, trying vainly to keep the exasperation from entering her voice. “Please and thank you.”

She hangs up without listening to him apologize, and has barely returned to her book when her phone rings again.

“What?” She snaps, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Did you just hang up on Jennings?”

Amy sighs as Rosa’s gruff voice comes through the receiver. “Why, did something happen?”

“You could say that,” Rosa says, and something in her voice makes the hair on Amy’s neck stand up. “You should really get here. Now.”

Amy somewhat reluctantly slides her bookmark between the pages, stretching her legs before getting off the couch. “Okay. Give me twenty.”

She parks the car with a vague apprehension, and as the elevator doors ding open on the fourth floor, it takes her a few seconds to understand what is happening.

The bullpen is full, for starters – all of her uniformed officers are there, plus a bunch of people she doesn’t recognize, and as she takes a cautious step forward she notices the top of Rosa’s hair among the sea of people.

“Hey,” she yells over the noise, fighting her way through the crowd. “What’s going on?”

Rosa turns, her face sagging with relief at the sight of her. “Oh, good, you’re here. Come with me.”

Amy starts to say, “What – “ but before she can finish her sentence, Rosa’s hand is clamped around her wrist and she’s being dragged away from the bullpen and into the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

“Interrogation room.”

“But why – “

“You’ll see,” Rosa answers roughly as they come to a stop. “Ready?”

“For what?”

By way of answer, Rosa opens the door.

The first thing Amy sees is a wall of beige slamming into her. “Amy!”

She stumbles backwards, arms reflexively rising, but even as adrenaline rushes into her system she feels a chill run down her spine at the voice she has just heard. “Charles?”

“Yeah!” He says happily, releasing her. She sucks in a breath, trying to see if her ribs are broken. “I’m back, I missed you so much, even though I guess I didn’t even know I was gone – is it even possible to miss someone if you’re unconscious? I feel like it is – “

“Boyle,” a dry, lazy drawl says from behind him, “If you say one more word, I will find Thanos myself and ask him to snap us back into oblivion.”

A head full of mousy, brown hair pops up next to Charles, and Amy feels another shock run through her body. “G – Gina?”

“The one and only,” she says, grinning widely. “What up? I am now officially way younger than you – how does it feel to officially be a grandma?“

“I – wait, does that mean – “

“Hi,” another voice says, soft and timid, and Amy’s heart stops in her chest.

Jake makes his way toward the door, his movements nervous and eyes almost shy, and Amy barely notices Rosa dragging Charles and Gina out the door behind her.

A sob makes its way up her throat as the door shuts quietly behind her. “This isn’t real.”

His lip twitches slightly, and he reaches hesitantly for her hand as she tries to remember how to breathe.

“It’s me,” he says softly. “I’m here.”

His hand touches hers, and in that achingly familiar touch, everything comes crashing down around her. She throws herself into him, burying her face in the shirt she thought she’d never see again, and as he wraps her in a tight hug all the grief from the past five years starts to pour out of her.

“I’m sorry,” he says into her hair, his voice wavering slightly, “I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine – “

“Not your fault,” she mumbles, tightening her grip on his shirt. “Thanos is a dick.”

Jake laughs, watery and shaky but very much him, and the sound makes her heart soar.

“Never thought I’d hear that laugh again.”

He quiets at that, his hands stilling against her back.

“Ames, I – “

“It’s okay,” she says, pulling back to look at him. “It’s okay – “

“No, it’s not,” he says, his voice tight with pain. “I can’t imagine what a mess I’d be if it had been you instead. I just – five years. God.”

She clears her throat, holding desperately onto his shirt as if it may dissolve into ash at any moment. “How – do you know if this is permanent? I mean, are you – is this – “

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Holt said he’d brief us all later, but apparently they brought us back and then killed him, so there really isn’t – I mean, this is it.”

Amy lets out a shaky breath and nods, forcing herself to smile. “You did miss a lot,” she says, trying valiantly to lighten the mood. “My squad is so dope now, Rosa and her girlfriend showed up in matching outfits one day, and Holt and Kevin renewed their vows – “

“They did what?”

She grins. “Yeah, and I got to speak at the ceremony – “

“Oh, my God,” Jake says, looking genuinely offended, “I cannot believe my two dads held a vow renewal and my wife spoke and I wasn’t there. Tell them to do it again. They have to do it again, right? I’m, like, practically their son – “

“We can talk about it,” she laughs. “Later.”

His expression softens, and the longer she stares at him the more it starts to sink in.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Later.”

And there is so much to talk about, so much they need to talk about, but for the moment, none of that is important. Because their friends are waiting for them outside, together for the first time in five years, and there are drinks to drink and proper reunions to be had.

Time is a fickle, dangerous thing – Amy knows that now. But it is also the vessel through which one moves through the world, and as she walks out of the precinct, holding hands with someone she thought she’d never see again, she feels nothing but grateful.

They have lost more time than they can count, but they have, too, gained it back. And now – now, they have all of it they need.

#im-a-rocketman #finished prompts #my fics #b99 #jake x amy #peraltiago #my b99 fics

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eirabach · 5 years ago

Text

Dangerous Games [1/2]

Hi. I don’t want to tell you how shockingly hard I fell for this ship, but suffice to say this started as a tiny wee one shot somewhere mid season two. And now it’s uh... none of those things. Enjoy? I hope you like tropes...

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go!

Rating: M [eventually]

Word Count: 13.8k ishhhh

AO3: Here

Summary:

In which Penelope plots, and lives to regret it. Possibly.

But then again, possibly not.

[or, Pen and Ink versus TOS episode The Cham-Cham. Except with hardly anything in common with The Cham-Cham. I don’t make the rules. They do.]

There is a peculiar sort of etiquette to tea.

Penelope prides herself on knowing all the funny, fusty old rules that most of her generation have no idea ever existed. The rules she’d learned at the knee of a paper-skinned grandmother, her bony hands holding Penelope’s shaking ones as black lace had blurred her vision, and her mother’s teapot had seemed unbearably heavy in the shocking finality of her absence.

“Careful now, Penelope. A lady must not be seen to tremble.”

Of course according to her dear departed Grandmother, a lady ought not do a great many things.

Ought not make a scene, nor involve herself in politicking. Ought not wear a skirt above the knee, nor ingratiate herself with men whom she’d do better to avoid. Ought not to smile beguilingly. Ought not to welcome such overtures in return.

At least Penelope has always obeyed her in regard to tea.

It comes as easy as breathing; the perfect four minute steeping of the leaves, the gentle six o’clock folding in of the milk, the way she lifts the porcelain to her lips and sips delicately. She’s a study in ladylike composure and British reserve.

If her grandmother knew how hard her heart was beating, how she struggled to keep her hand steady, if her grandmother knew why -

Somewhere in the distance, she imagines she might hear the sound of the chapel’s flagstones rippling as her grandmother’s bones spin wildly in the vault beneath.

A giggle bubbles helplessly up from behind the rim of her teacup.

“Something funny?”

“No I - Would you believe I was thinking of my dead grandmother?”

“Oh yeah? Hilarious. Almost as funny as this - thing . What is it?” Gordon holds up one of the delicate little crustless sandwiches, the ones she’d made herself after sending Parker and the cook away, and peers at it with a disdain she finds offensive.

“It’s Coronation Chicken,” she says with a sniff. “It’s a classic filling.”

Gordon drops the sandwich back on the plate and nods solemnly “Of course it is. Mind if I stick to cake?”

She giggles again. Giggles, for goodness sake. The chapel shudders around her grandmother’s post-mortem assault. “Not keen?"

Gordon appears mortified, shaking his head frantically. “No it’s - I mean - This is, nice? You know. The tea, it’s nice.” He pats his belly and leans back like a man truly satiated. “Really great tea, Penelope. Really.”

Penelope hums politely, sets her teacup down with a final sounding clink , and takes a moment to observe her guest.

Sat on the little velveteen loveseat Gordon looks awkward, cumbersome, in a way he never usually does. His eyes are bright, his mouth as quick to smile as ever, but there’s a tenseness in his jaw she doesn’t remember from before the incident. A twitch in his fingers that she’s never noticed before.

And if there’s one thing Penelope has become good at in recent months, it’s noticing Gordon Tracy.

He might be free of the casts and braces now, but he still holds himself as though his body might betray him at any moment and send him sprawling at her feet. She’s heard the stories. Been pre-warned. She knows it might.

(She doesn’t know if his heart is racing like her own. Doesn’t know what she's supposed to do if it isn’t.)

He’s fiddling with the tea cup now, back ramrod straight in a way that absolutely cannot be comfortable but is surely demanded by the shades of older brothers and a military father when one is invited for tea with a Lady. And maybe she knows the etiquette, but Gordon is following the rules.

Penelope makes her own rules.

She takes a breath and reminds herself that she’s not the only one out of her comfort zone here. If they can take down international criminals and rescue recalcitrant Frenchmen they really ought to be able to manage a civilised cup of Assam.

“Well that is a relief,” Penelope sighs, and sits back a little in her seat, feet crossing and uncrossing at the ankles. “I am rather an expert at afternoon tea.”

“Really?” Gordon sounds genuinely surprised, but quickly schools his features into something that he probably thinks looks neutral. Penelope doesn’t think Gordon could wear a neutral expression if his life depended on it.

“Surprising, is it?”

Gordon shrugs his good shoulder. “I thought that was what Parker was, y’know. For.”

“Never let him hear you say that,” she scolds, only half joking if that. “And to be perfectly frank with you he’s rather a philistine when it comes to tea. Would you believe he puts the milk in first?”

“No,” Gordon gasps, mock scandalised. “The audacity.”

He leans forward then, closing the distance between them and casting a shadow over the now neglected cups. “Bet I know someone worse.”

Penelope raises one eyebrow. “Indeed?”

“Ever met my Grandma?”

“Touche.”

He grins. "Thought so.” Then, slightly chargrined, “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“I’ll never tell,” Penelope agrees.

“Thing is -” he picks up another piece of Victoria sponge and studies it as he speaks, “she’s been great recently. She really has. And it must be boring for her stuck following me around all day - or not. I mean she can’t even follow me half the time I’m just sat there. Beached. And I love her and all but jeez - ” he puts down the cake and looks at Penelope like a man condemned. “I can’t eat anymore of her cooking, Pen. I’ll die.”

“Somewhat dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Have you ever eaten her meatloaf, Pen? Have you? No - “ he holds up a hand “no you haven’t, because if you had you’d understand.” He sighs dramatically, picks the slice of cake back up, and stuffs it in his mouth.

Penelope watches him chew with narrowed eyes, the germ of an idea forming in her mind.

It’s probably not a good idea.

It’s objectively a terrible idea.

Gordon’s still healing.

Her heart rate still won’t settle.

Her superiors will be furious.

His superior will lose his mind.

But Penelope is Penelope. And Penelope lets the words fall from her lips regardless.

“Gordon, have you ever been to Geneva?”

----

Last time Gordon had been to Geneva, Scott had helped drop him into the centre of the supreme hadron collider.

Scott’s got a case of deja vu.

“Geneva. With Lady Penelope.”

“Yeah,” Gordon grins at him from the other side of their father’s desk. “Pretty awesome, right?”

“Pretty,” Scott agrees, eyes wandering over to the half drunk bottle of scotch he’s going to need after this conversation. “Is it uh, a personal trip?”

Gordon’s ears flush pink, and Scott finds himself wishing for a full bottle.

“Penelope’s working.”

That’s not exactly an answer. It’s probably the only answer he’s going to get.

“And you’re going along for the scenery?”

“She asked me,” Gordon says, as though that’s all that could possibly matter. To him, it probably is.

Not for the first time Scott wonders if there’s anything Lady Penelope could ask of Gordon that he wouldn’t agree to in less than half a heartbeat. Not for the first time he sends a silent prayer of thanks that she’s on their side.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Gordon.”

“Why not?” Gordon’s smile fades into a scowl. “I’m no good to anyone here. You’re sick of the sight of me”

“That’s not true,” Scott says, reassuring. False. Because the truth is Gordon is grounded. And a grounded Gordon is a bored Gordon. And a bored Gordon is little better than a menace. But a Gordon halfway around the world and embroiled in what Lady Penelope calls work sounds a lot worse.

There’s only so much Colonel Casey can cover for them. They need the GDF onside.

And it isn’t that Scott doesn’t trust his brother, it isn’t, but he’s been Gordon’s big brother for twenty five years now, and the kid has form . Form and a fractured spine. Form and legs that can’t quite hold him steady on the other side of the desk.

When it comes to Gordon life is entirely heart over head, and that’s a risk Scott just can’t take.

He shakes his head, watches Gordon’s face fall, and swallows the guilt as he speaks.“You can’t -”

“No.” The venom in Gordon’s voice is enough to stop Scott in his tracks. Gordon leans forward, pressing his weight into his knuckles where they’re curled at the edge of the desk. “No, Scott. Just listen to me ok? I’ll tell you what I can’t do. I can’t sit here any longer just - just watching . I need to do something. Be useful.”

“You can be useful here!”

“Can I?” Gordon rocks back on his heels, and Scott can’t help but notice the unsteady little sway that follows the action. “Because all I’ve done for the past six weeks is sit on my ass , Scott. Grandma won’t even let me run dispatch for God’s sake. You let EOS run dispatch.”

“EOS isn’t injured.”

“EOS isn’t even human!”

“Fine, you want a job? I’ll find you a job.”

“I’ve got a job. Penny’s - “

“Penny.” Scott half scoffs. “Listen, what Penelope gets up to is only as much of our business as it absolutely has to be, I can’t have you compromising International Rescue’s reputation.”

Gordon’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Penelope would never -”

“No.” Scott stands, and the height difference between the two of them is suddenly as pronounced as it was ten years ago when the rows were over innocent things that felt so dangerous at the time. “She wouldn’t. Which is why I can’t figure out why the hell she’s invited you along.”

This time the sway is more pronounced, a bodily ricochet from words that Scott already regrets. “I didn’t -”

Gordon brushes off the hand reaching for his shoulder, eyes suddenly darker than Scott remembers seeing them in years. That would have meant tears once, he remembers. Now it’s the herald of something far worse.

“Right,” Gordon says, voice unnervingly steady. “I hear you. Loud and clear.”

“Gordon I didn’t mean -”

“Mean what?” the false jollity is somehow worse than the anger he’d expected. “That I’m not the obvious choice for a covert op? Well jeez, Scotty, the thought hadn’t occurred to me!”

“That isn’t what I mean and you know it. ”

Gordon twists his mouth into an approximation of a sneer that sets Scott’s teeth on edge. Somewhere beyond them he can hear the chime of an incoming call, but he can’t quite bring himself to break from Gordon’s glare to answer it. John will redirect it. Scott has his own situation to deal with.

“Isn’t it?”

“I just don’t like the idea of it, Gordon, You’re not a spy. It could be dangerous.”

Gordon does laugh then, a great belly laugh that has him clutching at his knees and wheezing from damaged lungs. “Dangerous. You’re funny, Scotty. You should be the funny one, you’ve a real talent.”

He turns to leave, and Scott tries not to wince at the stiffness he sees, the mental load he’s dropped on already physically pained shoulders.

“Gordon, wait.”

To his credit Gordon does, but he doesn’t turn around and Scott is forced to deliver his next words to his back.

“If you go, just swear to me you won’t over do it, okay?”

Gordon’s shoulders drop as he turns and throws Scott an exasperated look.

“It’s just a party, Scott. I’m great at parties. The best. It’ll be fine .”

Yes, Gordon is great at parties. Really great. Too great. International news making great. That is a further complication he hadn’t wanted to dwell on. Scott sighs.

“Penelope’s parties are never just parties , Gordon. Remember that.”

Gordon clearly takes this for the implicit permission that it is, throwing Scott a distinctly poor salute and - if not beaming, exactly - smiling more broadly than he has since he woke up in hospital blues.

“Scouts honour!”

“Weren’t you expelled from the Scouts?”

The grin’s a little wider, now, and Scott’s heart a little lighter for seeing it. “I’ll never tell.”

Scott watches him leave, still leaning a little on the railing to help him up the stairs, then flicks the comm on his father’s desk over to the secure line. Penelope doesn’t take kindly to either instruction or demands, but if she wants to drag Scott’s wounded brother out of his sight she’d better get a handle on both.

She must be expecting his call, the comm chiming out only once before she’s hovering above the manila file that contains Gordon’s hospital discharge papers and the details of Tracy Industries latest bequest.

“Scott.”

“Lady P. I expect you know why I’m calling?”

One perfect miniature eyebrow rises slightly. “I assure you, I haven’t the faintest. Business or pleasure?”

Her Ladyship loves to play this game. Normally there’s some urgent disaster relief effort or international criminal conspiracy that prevents the two of them from taking pot shots at each other. But occasionally she’ll get in a dig about old money versus new, or he’ll cast aspersions on the validity of the English aristocracy in the twenty first century, and their conversation will devolve into the sort of sniping battle of wits that only two people with their history and connection can enjoy.

It’s been months, though, and maybe Penelope has forgotten that Scott can play this game too.

“You tell me,” he says, “what exactly are your intentions toward my little brother?”

And maybe Scott’s forgotten the rules, because small and blue tinged she may be, but Lady Penelope is absolutely hovering above his father’s desk and blushing .

“Jeez, Penny,” he says, somewhat taken aback by her reaction but somehow also not altogether surprised. “Did I strike a nerve?”

Penelope’s face fades back to its normal porcelain and she sniffs in that haughty fashion that she only ever uses when she’s trying to get one over on Scott.

“Nonsense, Scott. I have no nerves, you know that. I simply thought Gordon could do with getting off that island for a little while.”

“He came for tea, didn’t he? He’s not a prisoner."

“No?” There goes that eyebrow again, and even though she’s looking up at him Scott has the distinctly uncomfortable impression she’s actually looking down on him. Penelope makes him feel uncomfortable a lot. It’s a skill not many people possess, and one that she has in common with the brother in question. “I don’t think the realities of Gordon’s current situation are entirely in line with how he feels about it. He came for tea and quite frankly he was such a misery I didn’t know what to do with him. He’s bored witless, Scott.”

It’s Scott’s turn to raise an eyebrow, but Penelope doesn’t rise to the bait.

“So you thought you’d involve him in a little light espionage?”

“Well yes,” Penelope says in that gleeful sort of tone that means she’s got an idea and Scott is about to agree to it. “I thought it would do him good. Exercise his mind.”

“Yeah his mind , Pen. You know he’s nowhere near 100%. If it comes to a fight -”

“I’m perfectly capable of dealing with any threats that may appear.”

“And if you need back up?”

Penelope smiles, small and secret. “I’m perfectly capable, Scott.” Then, harsher. “Don’t you think Gordon can look after himself?”

“That isn’t the point."

“Actually,” Penelope says, not unkindly, “it rather is. Let him feel useful, Scott. I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

Scott doesn’t even know why he’s arguing. Gordon has already received his tacit permission and will no doubt be already be throwing his belongings into a case with as much joyous abandon as a half healed broken arm and fractured cervical vertebrae will allow. It’s as much of a waste of breath as Penelope thinks it is, but he tries anyway.

“I’ve been attempting that his entire life, Pen. Current events notwithstanding, my success rates have been pretty poor.”

“Then let me try.” Penelope crosses her arms and lifts her chin in that way that always means that she considers the conversation finished. Her rule, law. “I will return him to you in no worse condition than I receive him.”

“How encouraging,” Scott deadpans. “All right. Fine. You can have him. On two conditions.”

“I’m listening.”

“One, you keep an open comm to Thunderbird Five at all times. If anything goes wrong we will extract you both and we won’t care about your cover, understood?”

“Unnecessary, but understood,” Penelope says. “And the second?”

Scott takes a moment to think how to phrase this oddest feeling of requests. More than hospital next-of-kin, more than field commander, this feels most like a job that Dad should have had and he feels a brief frission of irritation with Penelope for not just waiting until Dad was back to do it. He takes a deep breath.

“When I say look after him, I don’t just mean don’t let him get into a bust up with some mafioso. I don’t pretend to know what’s going on between you two, and frankly, I don’t want to, but -”

Penelope holds up her hand.

“If this is the part where you threaten to have me killed if I break your brother’s heart then, please, stop there. You have nothing to fear in that regard, Scott. I promise you.”

Her tone is cool, her words more so, but that faint pink flush is on her cheeks again and Scott can’t help but test her one more time.

“You know for a good spy you’re a horrible liar."

The scoff and the snapping off of the comms link is really all he needs to prove him right.

----

It really ought to have been Scott.

If it were to be any of them, of course, and perhaps in a different world it wouldn’t have been. Perhaps there would have been someone else, if she’d been someone else. If she hadn’t been his daughter, and they hadn’t been Jeff’s boys. If the world was kinder, perhaps, and hadn’t taken them all for its own. But she wasn’t and there wasn’t and it wasn’t. And it really had ought to have been Scott.

He’s six feet plus of all-American primogeniture topped with blue eyes and dimples and filled with a sense of duty so finely tuned that sometimes it makes her teeth itch to hear him. And she, well. She’s old money to his new. Pretty and pink cheeked and connected. A perfect little love story boxed up and beribboned and really not a love story at all.

Love stories aren’t for the likes of them, after all. Much better to be practical than romantic, when one distracted moment might get you killed.

It makes sense. Scott. Her father had thought so, and his. Parker still does, and her refusal to agree is a needle in his side.

( “H’I won’t live forever, M’lady,” all too often muttered under his breath as they wave Thunderbird One off from the manicured lawns, though she suspects he will, regardless. On purpose, even. Determined to see her down the aisle on the arm of someone he deems h’ppropriate.)

It isn’t Scott though. It was never Scott.

As long as it’s been anyone, it’s been him.

Which makes this all the more inauspicious a beginning.

Penelope is used to travelling under the radar as and when required. The economy seating and stretch polyester are a small price to pay for the anonymity they can afford her on the flight from London to Geneva. Any faintly curious glances sent her way are soon dissuaded from further investigation by her day-three hair and shiny leggings. That girl might look like Lady Creighton-Ward, but she wouldn’t be caught dead looking like that. Simple. Effective. Utterly depressing when Gordon turns up looking like that.

He practically bounds out of arrivals, all bright yellow glee, his case swaying on the trolley as he drags it along behind him, and the dreadful Swiss grey neutrality of the airport brightens like sunshine at his approach. If no one looks twice at her they crane their necks to look at him, and maybe she hasn’t quite thought this through.

Gordon has never really been one to blend in.

“I’ve never seen anyone look so happy after an economy flight,” she says wryly as he sweeps her own cases up and balances them precariously on top of his own. “Doesn’t your back ache?”

The smile shifts into a grimace, followed by a one shouldered shrug.

“I’ll live.”

“So you’ve said.”

She really hasn’t thought this through. Not when she was talking her superiors into allowing him to accompany her, nor when she was trying to convince Scott of the same. At no point in her appeals to his bravery, his quick wit, his need to do good, had she outright considered the truth of the matter.

Penelope hasn’t the faintest idea what is supposed to come next. Outside, of course, the clinical and satisfying success of a job well done. This - whatever this is - is a mystery.

And the other passengers filter away, leaving the two of them standing, silent, three feet apart and breathing the same recycled air.

“So,” he’s still grinning at her, waiting for her. Always waiting for her and she with no clue how to proceed. How inconvenient. “You ready?”

----

There’s no FAB1 waiting outside Geneva airport. No Parker to glare meaningfully into the rear view mirror and set her at ease with his usual maudlin complaints about Swiss road systems. Instead the two of them make their way toward the long line of automated taxis provided for the airports regular clientele.

There’s a long and rather embarrassing moment of confusion when it turns out that neither Penelope or Gordon have the faintest idea how to program one. Money, it seems, does not buy everything, or in this case perhaps it has brought them both a little too much.

After much poking, prodding, and occasional language unbecoming to a Lady, they eventually pull away from the airport and away from the beaten track. The car makes its way through twisting mountain passes, the low afternoon sun barely visible through the peaks until they begin their final descent. The valley before them is lit up as the little vehicle makes its way along a narrow, rock-strewn path before veering left into a cleft that had lain hidden in the shadows. The ride through the narrow little crevasse is less than comfortable. Gordon turns paler with each jolt of the suspension and Penelope winces in sympathy.

“It isn’t much further,” she offers as helpless reassurance, but he doesn’t answer beyond a tight nod and gritting of teeth. She wants to tell him that it will all be worth it but that seems like an arrogant presumption, at least that is until they emerge from the crevasse into a secret pocket of unutterable beauty.

Then, at least, it feels more like an observation than a promise.

“Now, wasn’t this worth the trip?"

The car stops a few dozen metres from the shore of a crystalline lake, its waters liquid gold in the sunlight, the mountains rising around it pink as rose quartz. At the Northern shore stand a cluster of traditional alpine chalets, the largest of which is built into the mountainside and rises above the others capped with a blanket of undisturbed snow. It is, Penelope concedes to her own satisfaction, truly lovely.

Perhaps this whole thing may work our rather well after all.

“Wow.”

“Wow, indeed.” Almost without thinking about it she takes him by the hand and tugs him behind her until they’re stood at the foreshore, the setting sun burnishing the edges of the mountain above them. “It feels like we might be a million miles from anywhere.” Then, at his hummed agreement. “Not that you’re not used to that, of course.”

“I dunno.” Gordon leans forward for a better view of the water. “No rockets taking off during swim practice? No Scott hovering around like a bad smell? No John in charge of the TV repeats?” He straightens up and grins at her. “Sounds like paradise to me.”

“Am I to assume that my company is preferable to Scott’s?”

“Penelope I mean this in the nicest possible way, but I would rather spend a weekend caged with starving piranhas than spend another ten minutes watching Scott give himself a hypertensive crisis every time I sneeze.”

“Is it truly that bad?”

“It’s worse .” Gordon swings their joined hands and she tries to relax into the motion, but this sort of easy affection is as alien to her as the good natured way that Gordon scoffs, “he’s a goddamn nightmare when he’s worrying. I don’t know how Alan puts up with it.”

Penelope, who rather suspects Alan quite likes being smothered in affection no matter how oddly expressed, lets go of Gordon’s hand in order to tuck her arm through his.

“I’m afraid I did have to promise Scott I’d look after you.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Like a pet?”

“Like someone recovering from a rather ghastly accident, which -” she holds up a finger to silence him before he can begin to protest, “I am afraid that you are.”

“I’m practically better!”

“Practically won’t get you back in that submarine and it won’t wash with me either. Now come along, it’s cold.”

He mutters indictments under his breath, but allows her to keep her arm tucked through his until they reach the door of the smallest chalet.

“Better bring the cases,” she tells him as she enters the keycode, “these automated taxis run strictly to time and we wouldn’t want to send all our clothes back to Geneva.

He opens his mouth. She raises an eyebrow.

“Fine, okay, but I thought I was an invalid? You’ve brought enough cases to clothe most of Switzerland.”

“And I thought you were practically better, and a gentleman.” She shoos him off, he rolls his eyes, and the little chalet that will be their temporary home is revealed just as the taxi begins its lonely journey back to the airport.

The two of them stand alone at the threshold, cases piled at Gordon’s feet, and a little warm flame of satisfaction grows in Penelope’s belly and spreads to her hands, her chest, her face.

Perfect.

She steps into the room, turns to him, and smiles.

“Well? What do you think?”

-----

Gordon does not read romance novels. Doesn’t read much of anything if he’s being totally honest, not unless Brains’ manual updates and John’s debriefs count. And even if they do - well, John’s couldn’t be further from romantic if they tried. Brains’ gushing prose is usually directed towards things beyond Gordon’s personal proclivities. So he doesn’t read Romance novels. He never has.

Grandma loves them.

And maybe it’s by osmosis, or maybe it’s because he seems to have spent an alarmingly large period of his life confined to bed and her tender mercies, but Gordon knows quite a lot more about romance novels than he’d really care to admit.

He’s rich. She’s feisty. There are love children and doctors and sheikhs and vestal virgins with the sexual appetites of extremely rampant rabbits. There are misunderstandings and malicious exes. Elevator breakdowns and holiday romances and office politics.

There’s only ever one bed.

There isn’t an induced coma on Earth that could stop him from figuring out where that particular plot point goes.

There is, however, a non zero chance that he’s still unconscious somewhere on the seafloor or battling his way out of a coma, because there’s no way, absolutely no possible way that this could actually be happening. This must all be some sort of dying man’s daydream, albeit one with a depressing amount of physical therapy and way too many annoying brothers.

Penelope’s still standing there, waiting, and she probably thinks he’s gone insane and that’s okay because he probably has and he knows that Alan must have set this up somehow. Someone is bound to come bursting through the curtain at any moment and did you see his face, Lady P?

Gordon? Are you quite alright? You look like you may be about to have a stroke.”

Oh, beautiful . What phrasing. It gets better.

"I uh - I think there might have been some sort of mistake?”

Gordon stutters his way through the question, frozen in the doorway with nothing between them but the mound of cases and a signal fundamental fact: the bed is not a mistake.

Penelope Creighton-Ward doesn’t make mistakes.

“Hardly, darling,” she says, sashaying into the room proper and pulling a small black box from the front pocket of the leading suitcase. “We are supposed to be playing a couple, you know. Separate rooms lead to gossip. Gossip leads to suspicion.” She presses a couple of buttons on the little box and the room is bathed in a soft blue glow and a high pitched sound that fades away to leave ringing in Gordon’s ears.

Or maybe that’s just his brain finally disconnecting from reality. There’s no way this is actually happening. This is a prank. The worst prank. He’s going to kill Alan. Kill him.

Penny looks at him with an expression of pinched concern.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

No. Yes. God he didn’t think this through. Scott was right, this is a dangerous game.

He doesn’t think he can manage to answer, so instead he nods at the black box.

“What was that?”

Penelope slips the device back into her suitcase and busies herself with the bedside holocomm.

“A broad spectrum communication blocker,” she says, turning the holocomm over and examining the base. “It will prevent anybody listening in on us.”

Gordon’s mouth goes dry at the implication that there might be an us to listen in on, but Penny seems unfazed. She concentrates on peeling a small silver disc from the bottom of the holocomm and pockets it swiftly.

“There,” she says, “much better."

She drops to sit at the edge of the bed, folds her hands in her lap, and smiles up at him beatifically.

“Well?” She pats the bed beside her. The ringing in Gordon’s ears is starting to sound like the emergency alarm. “Are you going to stand there the whole time?”

Gordon doesn’t move. Can’t. “Probably, yeah.”

“Gordon.” She’s stern, but not unkind. “I feel fairly confident a lady has invited you to sit on a bed before now.”

Oh, sure, yeah. Ladies. Plural. Several. But a Lady? Capital L? Penelope?

“Not as often as you’d think,” he says, then wonders why the hell he said it. This is going to be a hell of a long weekend if he can’t even get a grip on his mouth.

But Penny laughs, and when Penny laughs his own inability not to humiliate himself feels slightly less of a burden. “I promise, your virtue is safe with me.”

Penny bounces slightly on the bed, the springs squeaking beneath her, and smiles wickedly when he groans.

“I’m fucking all this up already, aren’t I?”

She unfolds her hands and smooths them over her knees.

“Stuff and nonsense,” she says, not quite meeting his eyes. “I have every faith in you. You only have to pretend to be utterly devoted to me, how hard could it be?”

He doesn’t even begin to know what to say to that, but luckily she doesn’t seem to expect an answer - just shakes her head a little bit and reaches out to pat him on the knee.

If Virgil ever found out how close he comes to falling over at that moment he’d never ever live it down. Ever.

“Oh, Gordon. Honestly. I’m just teasing you.” She stands and moves to drag the cases onto the bed. This at least reminds some primordial part of Gordon’s brain that he’s supposed to be a gentleman.

“I got it -”

Penelope lets him take the case from her, but watches him hoist it onto the bed with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t think you do, actually.” She catches hold of his sleeve as he turns for the next case. “Sit.”

“Not Sherbert,” he grumbles. She twitches a single eyebrow. He sits.

“We have until tomorrow morning to make sure our cover is air tight, and to do that I need you to listen to me.”

“Just as well I’m great at taking instruction.”

“Is that so?” And she’s blushing, just a bit, just at the crest of her cheekbones, and this is better. This Gordon can do .

“Ask John, oh, wait,” Gordon grins and holds up the holocomm. “You can’t. Guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

“Hmm,” Penny taps her fingers on her hip bone and holds up the tablet between them. “Speaking of situations.”

“I thought we were speaking of John?”

“Is there a difference?” They grin at each other, and the hysterical butterflies calm, just a little bit. Okay, so he’s sat on a bed with Penny. So he might be sleeping with Penny (the butterflies mount a resurgence just at the thought, no matter how literally meant), but it’s Penny, and it’s him. They can do this. They’ve been beating around this particular buddleia bush for years. Nothing’s changed.

Then Penny scoots just a little bit closer, lays the tablet across both their thighs, and - maybe.

Maybe things are changing, just a little bit.

“Here.” Penny opens a file and the room is bathed in soft green light. Above them hovers a man on the wrong side of middle age, head polished to a gleaming shine, moustache bristling above unsmiling lips. “Recognise this gentleman?”

Gordon squints up at the image, a tickle of recollection at the back of his mind.

“I think - yeah, maybe. I think I’ve seen him before. Hey,” he lifts his chin and peers a little closer. “Wasn’t he at that shindig you took Scott to? The one with the Russian incident?”

“The less said about that the better,” Penny mutters, but then, “Yes. He was there. He’s Colin Vishkin.”

And Gordon might not be too great at faces and he might spend most of his life forty thousand leagues under the sea, but he doesn’t live under a rock .

“As in -?”

“As in,” agrees Penny, and skips to another file. This is a news report, looming over them with Vishkin’s still unsmiling face projected over the anchor’s shoulder.

Mr Vishkin, who manages some of the music industry’s brightest talents, was unavailable for comment after today’s revelations. Sources say -

“Hang on.” Penelope pauses the playback and looks at him expectantly. “ Colin Vishkin is coming to this party?”

“Gordon, you really should know by now, my parties are rarely ever just parties .”

“That’s what Scott said,” Gordon says, begrudgingly. “But he’s just some showbiz guy, he’s not a spy. Is he?”

“If he was, you wouldn’t know,” Penelope says with that small secretive smile that she always seems to wear when it comes to her work. “But no. No I have no intelligence to suggest he’s working for any governmental organisation. I’m very much afraid Gordon, that Mr Vishkin is our bad guy.”

That makes him sit up a little bit straighter, sends the butterflies into retirement as Gordon Tracy Lovesick Idiot is pushed to the side by the somewhat more capable Thunderbird Four.

“Bad guy how?”

Penelope flicks through another few files. News reports, mainly. The odd magazine article lifted from the cloud. Vishkin’s artists, all falling out of one bar or another. All caught with powdered noses. Glassy eyes.

Dead at twenty five .

And then flight logs. Hundreds of them. Bogata. Kabul. Los Angeles. London. Sydney. Jakarta. Concert venues interspersed with trips in the dead of night. No overnight stays. Land and go.

“See a pattern?”

“He’s running something, all right.”

“Oh, certainly,” Penelope agrees, but then she flicks over again, and this time it’s an image created to tug on Gordon’s heartstrings. People. Dozens of them. Young and younger still with wide desperate eyes, crammed into a container the like of which he hasn’t seen since commercial shipping was done away with. “Not just some thing, though. Some ones .”

“People smuggling?” Gordon practically spits it out. “It’s the twenty first century, Pen!”

“Indeed it is.” Penelope is looking at the picture, lips pursed in concentration, but there’s none of the rage in her expression he feels in his heart.

“How can you just -” he waves his hand at the image. Wills it to disappear under his touch. “It’s inhumane!”

“Man’s inhumanity to man is nothing new, Gordon. It’s been here as long as we have as a species, and it will remain until we are all gone.”

“Why hasn’t the GDF taken him down?”

“The GDF have neither the evidence or the jurisdiction.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Penelope turns to him and he expects a rebuke for his language, but instead she’s just looking at him. Considering.

“Indeed.”

Ah. There’s a stiffness in his spine now that has nothing to do with compound fractures or economy seating.

“So that’s where we come in? Catch him at it?"

“He’s highly unlikely to bring a crate full of human cargo on an alpine holiday, Gordon.” She smiles again, and this is a new one. A cold one. “But don’t fret. After all, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

“Care to share?”

“Certainly.” She flips to another screen, and this person Gordon does recognise. He lets out a low whistle.

“Margot Mearns.”

“The very same. Did you know it’s her birthday this week?” Penny flicks through a few more screens until she settles on the one she wants. It’s a mass of words and letters that make minimal sense to Gordon. “Hence the little trip out here. Vishkin was convinced that a nice holiday might be all she needs to begin work on another album.”

“I thought she’d retired years ago?”

Penelope mouth narrows grimly. “So did she. But if Mr Vishkin wants you to do something, you usually do it.”

Gordon looks again at the tablet’s projection, notes the flight times interspersed with dates. Places. ‘MM’ over and over and - “You think he’s blackmailing her?”

“I think she may be willing to share a few secrets if the price is right,” Penelope says, swiping the file closed and dropping the tablet onto the bedside table. “These people can always be brought, Gordon. Always.”

"But Vishkin is rich as hell, he can -”

“I don’t mean with money.” Penelope sighs, and tilts her face up to look at him. “This is why I wanted to bring you,” she says. “You’re just so terribly good . You remind me what I ought to be, perhaps you will be more successful than I in appealing to Ms Mearn’s better nature."

“Don’t be stupid,” he scoffs, “you’re a good guy. The good guy. Capital G’s. Good Lady? You’re the best, Lady P.”

“If you say so.” Penny seems to concede the point, but then, “I’m afraid there’s more, and this part I suspect you really won’t enjoy.”

----

He takes it surprisingly well, the lengths they are expected to go to to keep Vishkin from realising he’s been led into a trap. He accepts the case full of bulky skiwear and acrylic sweaters with good grace, even though the palette is rather muted for his taste and they both know he won’t be going anywhere near the slopes. He does grumble just a little when she pulls out the hair dye,

What’s wrong with holotech, Pen?

(Pen, for goodness sake. Pen. Penny . Like he’s already ten pages ahead of her. Already crossed the rubicon into something that Penelope herself is only just beginning to name.)

Dampners, remember?

However, he disappeared off to the bathroom without any further complaint. He’s still there now, she can hear the shower running, which is advantageous in that he’s not witnessing what might be the closest thing to a panic attack Penelope has ever had.

That’s not quite true, of course. She’s felt worse, trapped in safety on the deck of the Solar Explorer. In the belly of ancient mine. Curled up on the back seat of FAB one en route to the hospital.

These events all seem to have one common denominator, and now he’s turned off the shower and is shouting through the door.

“It’s okay! I still look amazing!”

“Of course you do, dear,” Penelope mumbles, eyes fixed as they have been for the past ten minutes at least, on the silver bands in her palm.

“Dapper as hell!” He bursts out of the bathroom, arms outstretched in a tada ! Gesture, and really, really this would have been just a touch easier if he’d at least put his clothes on.

“Really Gordon?”

He does have the grace to blush then, she can see the way it spreads down his throat and along the ridge of his collarbones.

“Sorry, got excited.”

She doesn’t think she could formulate an answer to that if she tried.

“Looks good though, right? I could totally have been a ginger. Except for the sun thing, that would suck. I reckon that’s why John chose space. Keep him pale and interesting.” He spins on the spot to show off his new hair - auburn, a shade or two darker than his brother’s - but does at least hold on to the towel as he does so. “Well, interresting-ish, I suppose.”

It’s a small mercy. Penelope closes her fist over the rings and steels herself as best she can against the assault of his smile as he turns to face her again.

“Will I do?”

A terribly pertinent choice of phrase, that.

“Lovely,” she says, hoping against hope he doesn’t notice the crack in her voice. “Now be a dear and put on a shirt.”

“Spoilsport.”

He snatches up one of the sweaters from where he’s dumped them unceremoniously across the top of the dresser, and disappears back into the bathroom long enough for Penelope to physically shake some sense into herself.

This mission is shaping up to be far more dangerous than she might have expected. Or just as dangerous as you ‘oped , pipes up a familiar little voice in her head. One that has had far more to say about this trip than is warranted, in her opinion.

But then Gordon is back, and she can’t keep a neutral expression to save her life, and God knows if she’s fooling anyone anymore but she certainly isn’t fooling herself.

He looks ridiculous in knitwear. Utterly ridiculous. It is entirely too unfair that a man she sees so often in skin tight neoprene can look like that in a cable knit sweater that isn’t even cashmere.

Gordon frowns.

“Penelope? Are you okay? You’ve gone a bit pale.”

Well. Isn’t that just smashing.

In for a penny, as Parker says. She goes in for a pound.

“I’m afraid you have to marry me.”

It’s Gordon’s turn to go a rather odd colour now. In his case it’s a rather fetching shade of puce that clashes horribly with his newly dyed hair.

“Uh.” He says. Freezes. Then, “Are you asking ?”

“I’m afraid GCHQ have beaten me to it.” Penelope finally unfurls her fist and holds her open hand out between them. Gordon stares at the two slim rings as though they might, in fact, be tiny metallic alligators. “Not the nicest quality,” she says, both by way of breaking the silence and genuine apology. “Budget cuts. I’d have brought some myself, but I don’t think my cover and I have similar tastes.”

Gordon’s head snaps up then. “Right, yeah. The cover. So we are?”

Penelope lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, and slips the smaller ring over her finger before holding out the other for Gordon to do the same. He hesitates only a moment before doing so, then turns his full attention back to her as she begins to unpack the minutiae of their cover lives.

She has a wig, brown contacts, a collection of extremely frumpy fair isle sweaters, and a passport in the name of Pauline Jones. Pauline is a strict vegetarian, an excellent cook, and well known in the hospitality business for her professionalism and discretion.

Pauline’s husband is a ski instructor turned chalet host, banished from the slopes after a nasty accident the season previously. Very much the junior partner in their rental business, he’s still learning the ropes.

His name is Greg, and he has three juvenile convictions for possession of narcotics and terrible taste in music.

(“Hey!”

"I don’t make the rules, darling.”)

Penelope piles up the belongings of these people who don’t yet exist, and atop it all she lays a holopad already pre-loaded with photographs they’ve never taken. There’s a wedding dress in there, she knows that. A hideous meringue affair that Penelope would never be seen dead in.

She tells herself that’s the reason she bats Gordon’s hand away when he goes to open the files.

“Time for that later,” she says, only too aware that she’s been the one insisting on getting their cover straight. “Are you hungry?”

“Are you an accomplished chef?”

He has the good grace not to call her on the change of subject, at least.

“I’m whatever I need to be,” she tells him truthfully, and gestures to the far wall of the room where an understated metal box protrudes from the wall. “but at least in this case I do have a little back up.”

----

The replicated food is warm and tasty enough, but it doesn’t do much to help the unsteady lurch of his stomach as he watches Penelope tidy away her - sorry, Pauline’s - clothes into the room’s only dresser.

"Why Greg?” he asks her, mostly for lack of anything else to say that won’t lead to more extremely awkward silence. “Greg’s an old man’s name.”

Penelope pauses her folding and rolls her eyes.

“Says the man called Gordon .”

“Hey, could have been worse.” He smiles, and she turns from the dresser to face him properly. “Could have been Deke. Or Wally. Or Virgil.”

Penelope tilts her head very slightly to one side and crosses her arms.

“You look nothing like a Virgil.”

“Nah you’d have needed a different dye job for that one,” he agrees, taking both their plates to the automated kitchen module and dropping them in for recycling. “And maybe some stilts.”

“I don’t think they’d have fit in the case,” she murmurs, attention back on the dresser, her palms smoothing over fabric.

“Hey, I brought my own case,” he nods over to the Tracy Industries industrial number that’s still lying where he dropped it by the door to the room. “You could have saved yourself the effort, you know.”

“And what did you bring?” Penelope arches an eyebrow. “Hawaiian shirts and Neoprene?”

“Long sleeved Hawaiian shirts,” Gordon says, mildly offended. “It’s cold here. I’m not an idiot.”

She looks at him as though that may be somewhat debatable.

“And I look great in Neoprene. Really makes an impression.” He risks a wink because, well, he’s still not sure exactly what’s happening here but he’s pretty certain she won’t mind .

She pauses, as though considering, then, “Rather depends on the impression you want to create. I’m not sure the bright blue skin tight wetsuit is the most subtle of disguises, Gordon.”

He hums, and nods solemnly. “It is tight.”

Penelope blushes, a bright, fierce red that clashes with her pink sweater, and Gordon’s heart soars.

“Distracting.” He emphasises the consonants and watches with disbelieving fascination as the blush spreads down her throat.

“Oh hush,” she splutters eventually, balling up one of ‘Greg’s’ ugly sweaters and launching it at him. “Parker will have you shot."

Gordon grins and drops back on his elbows, kicking his stockinged feet off the floor.

“Worth it.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You invited me.”

“And I so rarely make decisions I regret.” Penelope lays the final item of clothing in the drawer and turns to him with narrowed eyes. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

Gordon bites back the urge to ask is that so, and sits up straighter.

“Seriously, though,” he says. “I don’t -” he flails about for the words to say what he means without offending - or worse getting an answer he won’t know how to live with. Not that he knows what that answer might be. Not that he knows anything , and Scott’s never been more right and he can absolutely never know. Whatever Penelope says next he will have to carry to his grave. A place, that going by the thudding in his chest, he’s approaching sooner rather than later. “What is it you expect of me, exactly? Because Pen I swear whatever it is, I’ll do it, you know that. Whatever you want. I just -” he shrugs, and she’s frowning, and he feels small and stupid and young .

He doesn’t feel like a Thunderbird. He definitely doesn’t feel like a spy.

He feels like a boy faced with the girl of his dreams, and only one bed.

“Think of it as a rescue,” Penelope says, and that’s enough of a non sequitur to have his head spinning again. “We don’t know what will happen with Vishkin, it’s better to follow my lead and -”

And oh god. Oh god she thinks he’s talking about Vishkin.

He ought to be talking about Vishkin.

She’s stopped. That funny little frown right between her eyebrows again and he decides then and there that he hates it. Hates it directed at him and hates even more that he’s put it there.

“You keep calling me Pen.”

“I - what?”

“You keep calling me Pen.” She’s shaking her head and that little frown hasn’t shifted and wow, wow he’s bad at this.

“I’m… I’m sorry?” It’s his turn to frown now. “I hadn’t realised.”

“It’s quite alright. I quite like it.” She smiles again, still small, still secretive, but nothing like the cold twist of her mouth from earlier. “Don’t tell Parker, will you.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

And then she’s laughing, and then he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s really, truly, fucked.

“Hold on a moment, let me introduce somebody.” She pads her way into the bathroom carrying a small pile of clothes and a little black bag with a golden zipper and shuts the door behind her. He doesn’t hear the click of the lock. If she decides to get her own back and appears in a towel, he will absolutely, definitely die on the spot.

When she does reappear what feels like half a lifetime later, Penelope is transformed. Dark where she was fair, lips chapped and nose pinked like those of a woman who spends her life on the slopes, and it doesn’t so much impress Gordon as it terrifies him.

“There.” Penelope steps back from the mirror to admire her handiwork and holds out a hand to him. He takes it and rises to stand beside her as though he’s on autopilot. Maybe he is. He certainly doesn’t feel like her has any control of his limbs or the thundering of his heart as her fingers wrap around his. “Now look, Greg meet Pauline.” She beams up at him. “Don’t we make quite the pair?”

Gordon reaches up to adjust his new red locks, but Penelope bats his hand away and turns him to face the mirror. Two strangers look back at him - one reminds him of John, though not as tall or as scrawny but just as badly dressed, and a girl with dark hair and dark eyes rimmed thick with kohl and crinkling at the corners from Penelope’s smile. Almost ordinary, he thinks, except for that smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, we do.”

----

It’s getting late.

It’s getting late, and it isn’t that Penelope has a habit of retiring early - quite the opposite in fact - but they’ve an awfully busy day tomorrow cosying up to international criminals and the flight had been so very terribly uncomfortable and -

And Gordon is clearly so very uncomfortable with the idea of sharing her bed that she isn’t quite sure yet whether she ought to be offended.

She’s packed away Pauline’s belongings, and usually she’d have packed Penelope up right along with them, but she’s not quite ready to let go of herself yet. With Vishkin still comfortably settled in his London abode, she has time to indulge herself just this once, surely?

But it’s been rather a long time, and she's rather embarrassed to admit that she’s somewhat out of practice.

There is a distinct possibility that she hasn’t had any practice at these particular sort of bedroom shenanigans. For fun, for information, for something to do after another interminable gala perhaps, then yes, plenty. But she’s becoming more certain by the day that whatever this thing is between Gordon and herself it doesn’t fall into any of the categories she’s comfortable with.

Gordon sits on the edge of their soon-to-be shared bed wearing Greg Jones’ pyjamas and socks with goldfish on and smiles at her. A new category indeed.

“Something funny?” she asks. He shrugs, still favouring his right shoulder.

“Nah, not really,” he huffs out a laugh. “This is weird, right? I feel like this is pretty weird.”

“Rather the usual for me I’m afraid,” she says mildly. “International drug-dealing people smugglers are my bread and butter.”

“Yeah, that isn’t what I meant though, is it.”

She stiffens slightly, unused to being called out in such a way, but then she sees the way he can’t quite meet her eyes and maybe she isn;t the only one skirting at the edge of their comfort zone tonight.

“It’s a little weird,” she admits. “Do you prefer the left or the right?”

“Eh?”

“Side of the bed.”

He shrugs again, but he meets her eyes this time. “Rarely get the choice. International Rescue only supplies singles.”

“Well we wouldn’t want you boys to get a reputation would we.” He grins, and she drops down next to him and rests her hand on his knee. “If that’s the case, I’m afraid I really must insist on the right.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“Is it?”

She would be proud of the way she can strike him silent, but it’s not exactly helping the awkwardness of the situation so instead she squeezes his knee and says seriously, “I’m also afraid that I snore.”

“Really?” Gordon shakes his head, but the smile’s back and that’s what matters. “Lady Penelope, a snorer ? Whatever would the tabloids say.”

“They’ve never been so fortunate to find out,” she leans up toward him and lowers her voice conspiratorially. “I trust I can rely on your discretion?”

She watches the bob of his throat as he swallows. “Scout’s honour.”

“Weren’t you expelled from the Scouts?”

Gordon sighs dramatically, “One time. You flood a hut one time .”

“Then I’ll allow it.” She rubs at the edge of his hairline where a little of the dye has sunk into his skin and left a bruise-like stain. “Are you sure you’re ready for all this?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

“It’s just a bed , Gordon.”

“Oh,” he’s smiling though, a dangerous smile. She likes it. “And here I thought you were talking about the whole being a spy thing.”

She lets her finger run down the side of his face and then taps it against his mouth. His eyes follow it and her breath hitches.

“I have every faith,” she says, the words catch in her throat and come out as whispers. “In your complete and total professionalism.”

That wicked little smile feels like a promise against her skin. “Shame.”

“You know Scott would be utterly horrified if he heard any of this conversation, I do think he’s afraid I might be out to corrupt you, you know.”

“Did you tell him about the one bed?”

“Need to know basis, darling.”

Gordon laughs then, drawing back and letting the moment drift away into something less like a promise.

“No doubt John will fill him in, he’s probably having kittens right now.”

Penelope is a spy, and spies are liars by habit, so it hardly even feels like one when she says, “And how would John know?”

“Thunderbird Five? The all-seeing eye?” Gordon waves up to the ceiling. “If he hasn’t got a line in this room right now I’ll eat Greg’s woolly hat.”

“No one gets a line in unless I want them to, that I can promise you.” Penelope says, ignoring the gnawing feeling in her stomach as she follows his gaze. “Can’t have my sleep habits disseminated to the media, it wouldn’t do at all."

“Really?” And luckily she doesn’t have to answer, luckily because she doesn’t want to take away from the way Gordon relaxes next to her, all the stiffness and nervous energy draining from him. “You know, I don’t know if I can remember a time one of them wasn’t watching me? I’m pretty sure Scott had tabs on me in the womb.”

“They love you.”

“They’re terrified.” He stretches his arms out in front of him, then twists his neck and winces. “I give them plenty of reason, I guess.”

“You do have a terrible habit of chasing down danger,” Penelope agrees. “It’s most inconvenient, you know. Does awful things to our blood pressure.”

“Tell me about it.” He drops his hand on top of hers. “I would say I don’t do it on purpose, but -”

“But,” she agrees, and winds her fingers between his. “I think it’s time for bed, don’t you?”

“Jeez,” and he’s smiling, squeezing her fingers between his, “I thought you’d never ask.”

----

Morning breaks, bright dawn light making its way through the gauzy curtains and alighting on Penelope’s back as she sits at the dresser.

Sorry, Pauline’s back. Penelope had been gone before Gordon opened his eyes, her side of the bed smoothed flat and cool to the touch, and he’d been half convinced he’d dreamt her by the time a stranger exited the bathroom.

Gordon sits up in bed and watches as she puts the finishing touches to her transformation, the wig and contacts and polyblend sweater topped with enough makeup to fool even her own father and practicing a fake French accent so convincing that it makes his skin crawl.

It’s all just a little too good. A little too sharp a reminder of what Penny actually does day to day. Of what he’s about to do alongside her. Gordon Tracy. Spy .

Wherever dad is, he hopes he’s laughing.

Penny blots her lipstick and tucks the wig’s dark curls behind her ears.

“There,” she says, “lovely.”

“You are really, really good at this,” he tells her. “Scary good.”

“I do aim to impress,” she says and okay, okay it’s pretty weird to hear Penelope’s voice coming from someone else’s face. Maybe the accent isn’t so bad after all. “Vishkin’s flight arrives at fourteen hundred hours. Feel free to familiarise yourself with the files and be ready to meet me in the main chalet at thirteen thirty.

She smiles at him, that last lingering vestige of the Penelope he knows, and leaves him alone for the first time since he’d boarded his flight in Sydney.

“Fucking hell,” he tells his reflection - red hair and redder eyes because God as if he could ever have actually slept next to her - “fucking fucking hell.”

And he opens the file, because what else can he do but dwell on the feeling of her breath on his neck until he curls up on the spot and dies ?

Because it turns out that Gordon, when it counts, has absolutely no game whatsoever and if his brother’s ever find out -

If his brothers ever find out, Greg Jones might just be a better guy to be.

Luckily, Greg’s life has been that of a pretty average guy. The sort of guy Gordon might have been, he supposes, if his mother hadn’t been dead and his father hadn’t been rich as fuck. Greg’s father had served in the military during the war. He has an obnoxious overachiever for an older brother with whom he apparently does not have to live with on an isolated island. Sure, he had a misspent youth, but Gordon thinks Greg’s version sounds a hell of a lot more fun than spending High School in training for the Olympics and then nearly dying a bunch .

Greg Jones is emphatically not a billionaire.

Greg Jones has married the girl of his dreams.

Gordon Tracy doesn’t know whether the roiling in his stomach is nervous nausea or bitter, bitter jealousy.

“Get a grip,” he tells his reflection regardless. “Do not fuck this up.”

Despite the impossibility, he almost thinks he can hear John’s long-suffering sigh in his ear.

“Alright, alright.” He swats at his imaginary earpiece and turns his attention to Vishkin’s file. There are dozens, maybe hundreds, of people out there relying on this guy being taken down, and this, this Gordon knows he can do. “Lets get on with the rescue.”

---

It’s a bitter cold morning, the mountain air sharp in her lungs and against her flushed cheeks. The lake is a flat blue with ice glittering at its edges, the sky cloudless perfection.

Coward. Coward. Coward.

It rings through her, up through the soles of her heavy boots as she stamps through the snow, in every ridiculously loud thud of her heart.

Somewhere up above she imagines John, bagel in hand, judging her and finding her wanting.

A coward and a fool .

By the time she reaches the great hall of the main chalet she may actually be able to catch her breath. Which is just as well, because as she steps through the door she’s greeted by the hustle and bustle of her undercover team running final checks. She’s pleased to see people she’s worked with before and found to be reasonably competent. There’s Lester, tapping tiny screw-head bugs into place along the edges of the wooden bar, and Verne, his erstwhile partner, running loops of false footage on the large holovision screen. A few others too whose names escape her - a young girl she’s seen in the corridors of GCHQ, a chap she knows to be on his first mission wiping the bar top over and over with a dirty cloth - but they all stop and turn as soon as they see she’s entered the room.

She takes a deep breath.

This, she can do.

“Ah, good. You’re all here. I imagine everything is in order?”

“Absolutely Ma’am,” Verne assures her, flicking the screen over to some newsreel footage. “False flags in place.”

“Excellent. And our guests’ facilities?”

“Only the best, Ma’am,” affirms Lester, tapping the bar top. “All top quality.”

“Lovely.”

A light knock at the door, and Gordon peeks his head around. When he sees her he beams as though he hasn’t laid eyes on her for months rather than minutes. Her heart stutters, and she finds herself fiddling pointlessly with the ends of her wig.

“Hey,” he says, slipping into the room. “All ready for launch?”

“Hey, yourself. You look… warm.” He’s wearing a neon yellow ski jacket that she’d chosen as a nod to his own rather garish taste. It’s bulkier than she’d imagined. Much bulkier than the t shirt he’d slept in, the one that stretched over his shoulders and made her fingers twitch against the covers.

“Thanks, I think.” He looks around at the gathered staff in their borrowed uniforms, and waves. “Hey guys, how’re you doing?”

Lester and Verne look at each other, then at her.

“Uh,” says Lester. “Alright, sir?”

Okay, perhaps there are reasons Penelope rarely socialises with her undercover teams.

“Good, good.” Gordon claps his hands together then sways back on his heels. “Do we get discount at the bar or -”

“I should bleedin’ hope not!” It comes from the shadows, from a man who she’d barely noticed upon entering but now can’t believe she’d missed. A man, she’s fairly certain, she left behind in London with very specific instructions regarding Bertie’s feeding schedule and her father’s upcoming meeting with the Princess Royal. A man, she’s even more sure, hadn’t looked like that .

“Parker! What on earth have you done to your face?!”

---

“Fancied a change, M’Lady.”

Parker’s moustache bristles magnificently beneath that giveaway nose. It makes Gordon’s face itch just looking at it. It looks uncannily like something Brains might use to unclog Four’s inlet pipes. Perhaps, he thinks with a grimace, it is.

“Parker,” he says in lieu of greeting, “I didn’t think you were coming.”

Parker’s answering glare could cut glass. In fact Gordon’s sure he hears a distant tinkling from the back of the bar as he replies, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean Mr Gordon, sir .”

Gordon shrugs. “Not really your scene? I thought you were dog sitting?”

“Wherever ‘er Ladyship is my scene ,” Parker hisses. “And when she’s insisting on putting ‘erself in danger -”

“Penny can handle Vishkin.”

“Ain’t ‘im I’m worried over.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to - “

“That’s enough,” Penny snaps and both men stand a little straighter. “Parker, there will be time to discuss why you felt inclined to disregard my request after we’ve brought Mr Vishkin to justice. Gordon? Are you ready?”

Gordon blinks, looks down to where she’s rested her hand on the fist he hadn’t even realised he’d clenched. Beyond the doors he hears the tell tale thrum of engines, the sound of grit under tyres. He nods, and Penny motions to the man behind the bar.

All at once the men and women scatter, disappearing almost as swiftly as they had appeared, until it’s just Gordon and Penny and the lurking figure of Parker in the shadows of the furthest corner.

“Honestly,” Penny mutters under her breath as the engine noises cut out. “Men .”

A heavy knock at the door, and she steps forward to fling it open her scowl shifting into such an expression of rapturous joy on her face that Gordon almost gets whiplash. Again.

“Ms. Mearns!” she cries, Pauline’s accent bell-like in the echoing room, “such an honor!"

That is, Gordon thinks, one word for it.

In the brief few months young Gordon had had to be a regular teenager between swimming and WASP and agony, he’d had a terrible crush on Margot Mearns. An international singing sensation, she’d been the entertainment at one of Tracy Industries annual fundraisers - one that dad had allowed him to come to in one of his occasional, brief efforts to ‘bond’ with his most unimpressive son. (Although Alan had still wet the bed at that point, so Gordon may have had a brief rise in the rankings). His main memories of that night are of the constricting nature of his first ever penguin suit, and the glorious sight of Margot Mearn’s thighs gyrating within thirty centimetres of his spotty, flushed cheeks.

It had been a defining moment, alright. Even dad had listened to his teenage gibbering afterwards with good natured indulgence and cheerfully purchased a lifesized poster that young Gordon had hung in every closet he’d owned ever since. It had even come to the island with him, afterwards. A reminder of a time before IR and sleepless nights, when pretty girls with pretty thighs had been something he’d had time to dream about.

Now Penny - Pauline - is taking the hand of his childhood crush and shaking it gently, and it’s an awful long way from any kind of dream. More of a nightmare really, because Gordon has been in the rescue business all of his adult life. He knows desperation when he sees it, and it's written all over Margot Mearns's face.

Penny is slim, but the bones beneath are steel, her grip firm, all lithe muscles shifting beneath a porcelain shell. Margot seems brittle in comparison, delicate, her veins blue beneath translucent, clammy skin.

Her smile is too tight and her forehead is too smooth, and when she walks she seems to half fall from one foot to the other, lurching along like something undead from one of Alan’s favourite games.

He thinks of that poster, still hanging behind years worth of outgrown neoprene, and feels suddenly, terrifyingly, old.

“Christ,” he mutters. “Penny, Christ .”

Penny isn’t looking at Margot anymore though. Penny has much bigger fish to fry.

The man at Margot’s side isn’t the type to draw many second glances even in those with far more time to spend on celebrity gossip than Gordon ever has, but Penny makes a beeline for him, cooing greetings in that voice that he hates and snapping her fingers until the ‘staff’ reappear and begin busying themselves with the guests’ coats and luggage.

Vishkin.

He reaches for Penny’s hand and lifts it to his mouth sending a visceral shudder through Gordon’s body even as she slips free and beckons him forward.

“My ‘usband,” she says, and he wishes he hated that accent a little less because honestly he could dwell on those words forever. “We are so very honoured that you have chosen to stay with us Mr Vishkin, sir.”

Mr Vishkin, sir, looks down at them from his stacked heels with rheumy eyes set in a face like cracked leather. He wears enough gold to drown him in six feet of water, and this is a fact Gordon tucks neatly away in the back of his mind for safe keeping.

“I demand discretion,” he says. “Complete and total. Do you understand? I have guests attending who the media would just love to spread tall tales about. I would hate to think any came from you.”

“Of course! We pride -”

“Total. ” He turns his watery eyes on Gordon, and smiles coldly. “I have heard about you Mr Jones.”

Ah, right. Drug dealers. Misspent youths. Gordon isn’t yet quite sure how Greg Jones reacts to veiled threats, so he channels John Tracy instead.

“Honoured, I’m sure.” Vishkin’s eyes become slits, and Penny glares at him over his shoulder. Maybe not John, then. Maybe Alan. “I’m like - such a big fan,” he gushes and if the change of tone is enough to make him dizzy Vishkin at least doesn’t seem to notice. “A guy like you coming to stay here? Wow. Really. Amazing.”

“Yes well, we wanted somewhere a little off the beaten track as they say.” Vishkin puts an arm around Margot’s shoulders and pulls her into his side. She wobbles at the action, as though her legs can’t quite hold her up. “Isn’t that right Margot dear?”

Margot says nothing.

“‘Ow lovely,” Pauline coos. “Please, anything you need, we are absolutely at your service. Anything at all.”

Vishkin lets Margot go, and puts one gold-bedazzled hand on Penny’s cheek. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says.”Tell me, do you sing?”

Pauline blushes prettily and looks at Vishkin through lowered lashes. “Oh no, Mr Vishkin, I am - ‘ow you say - a strangled cat.”

“Shame, and so pretty.” He tugs at one of her curls as he moves his hand away. “A little hair dye darling, and I could make you a star.”

“She’s already a star.” Gordon reaches out and grabs Penny’s hand. “To me at least."

Pauline’s mouth twists into a scowl, and Gordon has a sinking feeling that it’s actually Penelope’s. “Greg! Don’t be rude!”

“Nonsense.” Vishkin pats him on the shoulder - the bad one - hard enough to make him stagger. “Good to see a bit of loyalty, you don’t get much of that in our line of work, eh Margot?”

Margot smiles, a fragile little thing, and speaks for the first time, her voice barely more than a whisper. “No, Colin.”

“Let me show you to your chalet,” Pauline says, disentangling herself from Gordon’s grip. “Come, come, I ‘ope you will find it all to your satisfaction, I followed your particulars most closely…"

She leads them both from the hall and out into the winter air, the frigid gust she leaves in her wake makes Gordon shiver even through Greg’s neon yellow ski jacket.

“Great start, Mr Gordon,” Parker mutters sardonically as he follows the rest of the staff into the chalet’s backrooms. “Very subtle, that.”

“I was being a gentleman,” Gordon grumbles after him, but it’s too late. The staff have all disappeared like the spooks they are, and Gordon is left alone with a stack of cases and the sinking feeling that Vishkin’s about to be the least of his worries.

He takes the closest case in his good hand, and heads out into the storm.

---

He’s been watching all afternoon. He hasn’t said much - which, honestly, is starting to feel like a blessing - but he’d lingered in each room as she’d shown Vishkin around, neither as subtle nor as comforting a presence as Parker would have been in the same situation. Instead he makes her feel off-kilter. Pauline’s laugh is too loud, her accent too harsh. Penelope is trying too hard and it shows. The truth is that she’s hardly slept, the bed both far too large and not anything near large enough, and instead she’d lain awake counting the cracks in the ceiling and letting her imagination run away with her.

It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous.

It is, she decides, all his fault.

“You are risking our cover!” she spits after hours of his nonsensical glaring, the door to their chalet locked behind her before she turns on him.

Gordon scowls right back at her, his arms folded across that stupid ski jacket she’d insisted on packing. Its cheerful brightness is giving her a headache.

“Don’t talk bullshit!” Gordon growls, “So what, ‘Greg’ lets idiots like Vishkin throw his weight around, does he?”

“‘Greg’” Penelope’s finger quotes are even more violent than Gordon’s, “knows that his wife can look after herself perfectly well, thank you very much!” She stops. Jabs him in the chest with a finger and the polyester jacket crackles like static between them. “I thought you’d remember that. If I wanted a bodyguard I’d have married Parker!”

“Maybe you should have,” Gordon snaps back, “I thought you said he wasn't coming? He your back up for when I screw up is he?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I didn’t even know he was coming, he shouldn’t have come!”

“Well he has, and if I’m gonna be accused of breaking cover what the hell was all that muttering about? Does he think Vishkin’s deaf?”

“I’m not privy to the inner workings of Parker’s mind, Gordon. And it hardly matters anyway, not if you insist on all this stupid manly posturing -”

“I don’t posture!”

“Oh no? Then what on earth was all this about?” She grabs at his hand and tugs it toward her. “Pauline is not Greg’s possession .”

“It’s not - that isn’t what I meant! He’s a nasty piece of work, Penelope!”

“Yes,” she keeps her grip tight. “Yes, I know that Gordon. That’s the point. But he can’t know that we know that, that utterly defeats the object. He has to believe that we are star-struck by him, he has to believe that he has some sort of power over us. It’s arrogance that destroys men like him, Gordon. Your father knew that.”

“And look where that got Dad,” Gordon mutters, and pulls his hand free. “I don’t like it. In fact, I hate it. A whole bunch.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” Penelope agrees. “But sometimes we must do whatever is necessary for the greater good. And if you think Mr Vishkin’s flirting is the worst thing I’ve put up with in the pursuit of justice, I very much hope you never read any of my other files.”

Gordon’s face twists unpleasantly and he turns away.

“I’m going to get some air,” he mumbles, and disappears through the french doors. Penelope watches his back as he hunches over the balcony railings. Takes one breath. Two.

This wasn’t the plan. None of this was in the plan. She’s going to have to have some firm words with Parker at the very least.

She’s probably going to have to have a few with herself while she’s at it.

“I’m sorry,” she says, moving into the doorway and speaking into the night air. “This is all terribly strange to you, I’m sure.”

“I’ll play nice.” He doesn’t turn to look at her though. “I won’t like it, Pen, but I swear I’ll play nice.”

“Pax, then?”

He nods, and she takes it as an invitation to join him on the balcony. The air is bitter, the sky above nothing but a carpet of stars.

She lets out a long sigh and leans back against the railing. Gordon’s hands dangle over the edge and his face is turned to the canopy of stars above them. It changes him, this light. Washes the colour out of his hair and casts his features into sharp relief. He watches the stars silently for a moment, and in return she watches him, watches the rise and fall of his chest and the bob of his throat as he swallows. The pull of the hideous jacket across his shoulders as he lifts an arm to the sky and waves.

Penelope follows the line of his gaze then, turning and wrinkling her nose as she squints up into what, honestly, is to her usually little more than a brightly glittering backdrop to her much more interesting plans for the evening.

“See the little blinking thing up there? Just left of the pleiades?”

It’s not an apology, but then she isn’t sure if she wants one. Not now. But she doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to spend another night lying in that too big, too small bed listening to his breathing and sinking in regret.

So she hums, twisting her head to try and better follow his finger. “If I say yes will you believe me?”

Gordon’s mouth quirks up at the corner and he grabs her hand, lifting it to follow his own. “There, look. Don’t tell me you didn’t study astronomy in your fancy schools?”

“I suspect our fathers had somewhat differing educational priorities,” Penelope says wryly. “Mine had ambitions for me that were rather more down to Earth.”

Gordon looks at her then, the starlight reflected back at her in his eyes. She’s so terribly glad she decided against giving him the contacts.

“Guess they were both disappointed then, huh?”

“Perhaps,” she says, loathe to spoil whatever passes for a moment. “Or perhaps we simply exceeded expectations. We are rather exceptional, after all.”

Gordon doesn’t answer that, only tightens his grip on her hand, his palm warm against the lakeside breeze.

“Do you see it?” he says, and for a moment she pretends not to know what he means, her gaze fixed on the side of his face, his upturned towards some invisible star.

But the silence draws out a moment too long, so she murmurs something he must take as assent, because he lowers her hand to rest gently against the railing and stuffs his own into his pockets.

“Thunderbird 5,” he says. “Weird."

“How so?”

“Watching John, when he’s not watching me. Doesn’t exactly happen often, you know?”

There’s a nasty sick little ache somewhere under Penelope’s breastbone, the sort that usually proceeds asking Parker to do something he’s spent most of his adult life trying to leave behind.

“Do you -” she pauses, and looks for a word that conveys what she means without risking another argument like the one that had seen them driven out here. “Do you miss it?”

Gordon looks at her. “John?”

“Not John specifically.”

“IR, then?” Gordon furrows his brow, his nose wrinkling. “I mean, yeah. Yeah of course I miss it. Them. My ‘bird. The sea. I could write a book full of all the things I miss right now.”

The ache intensifies and she swallows hard, pushes it down to her belly and tightens her grip on the railings.

“Of course. It was a foolish question, forgive me.”

“I like it here, though.” He smiles at her, and the honesty makes that ache just a little sharper. Penelope doesn’t think she’s ever been as honest with anyone in her life as Gordon is with everyone he meets. “It’s kinda fun in a weird way. And the company’s not bad. Plus, privacy. Kinda in short supply on Tracy Island.”

Penelope scoffs, and pushes herself back, away from the railings and toward the low light of the bedroom. “Is that your idea of an apology?”

“Dunno.” Gordon moves to follow her, his hands still stuffed in his pockets but his expression cheerfully neutral. “Did it work?”

She doesn’t grace that with an answer straight away, just lets the blind swing back into place behind her and lets herself smile at the muffled curse that follows.

“Oh, I’m sure you could do better.”

She heads to the bathroom to remove the worst of Pauline’s makeup. The wig will have to stay at the bedside in case of late night calls, but she’s determined to remove enough of Pauline to remove any doubt as to who is spending the night. Gordon doesn’t have quite as many accoutrements. He’s already sitting cross-legged and barefoot on the bed when she returns, two plates of something green gently steaming on the nightstands.

“An apology,” he says, holding one out. “Don’t ask me what it is, though. I leave the kitchen module to Virgil.”

“I’ll consider it,” she says, sitting next to him and bumping him with her hip, then, after a mouthful of something heavy on basil and light on carbs, “apology accepted.”

“That’s a relief,” Gordon says, swallowing. “This could have been awkward .”

“Heaven forfend.” She smiles at him and he smiles back then stretches, grumbling slightly as he turns his neck. “Are you in pain?”

“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t sort out, if my bedmate could refrain from snoring like a wild bear.”

“Rude.”

“Accurate.”

Penny bites her lip. If she’d had an hours sleep that was more than it felt, certainly not enough to impress her sleeping habits upon him. She doubts very much it was her snores that had kept him awake. She’d hardly considered that he may have been just as unsure as she last night. They’re anathema to her, these nerves. How much stranger must they be for Gordon, a man who spends his entire life leaping from one adrenaline high to another.

“I could sleep elsewhere,” she says quietly, a genuine offer though one she’d rather not have to follow through on. “You need rest.”

“God, no.” He rests his hand on hers, food forgotten. “It’s fine. You’re fine. Anyway the cover -”

“Wasn’t originally going to be this,” she admits. “I could revert - “

“Penny.” Gordon pushes the plates away, turns to face her fully and pulls her hands into his lap. “This is weird. Really weird. Let’s not - let’s not make it even weirder, yeah?”

“I’ll try,” she says, and squeezes his hands. “I will certainly try.”

#thunderbirds are go #penelope creighton-ward #gordon tracy #pen & ink #the ship not the artist medium #clare vs writers block #allllllll the tropes #so many tropes #what am i writing?#just tropes

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hexalene · 7 years ago

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So i uh. Was scrolling through, and found the florist stories? And was wondering if there were any more? Cause they're great, and i love them.

There are always more, my dear anon (・ω・)ノ

So this story is about three particular interactions I had with one of the regular shoppers at our store! I want to clarify that these three interactions weren’t sequential, but over the course of about eight months, which will hopefully make sense by the end :)

—

A tiny old lady comes up to me and asks if any of the plants we have are good for coughs, like natural cough drops?

Well, as far as I knew, no. But! We did have tea, locally produced honey, and ginger root. As I’m walking her over to the shelf, I notice she’s not looking me in the eye, but at my hair.

My hair is fairly long, and dyed bright ass purple. I love it. Most older people do not. So I keep talking, hoping to get through this interaction without a lecture about jobstobbers.

Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. Tea, ginger, and honey in hand, this tiny old lady smiles and thanks me, and says,

“But sweetheart, whatever did your poor mother say when she saw what you did to your lovely hair?”

Truthfully, I respond: “She started buying me purple clothes that match the color of my hair.”

—

Around thanksgiving, we’re looking for fresh basil to season her tomato soup with.

About this time, she’s gotten used to my dyed hair, sort of (we’ve had many many many conversations about “my poor mother” who she genuinely cannot believe likes my hair).

“But don’t you worry what the boys your age must think of you?”

I’m holding two potted basil in my hands, and we’d just been talking about how this plant will keep growing if she cares for it, which she was very excited about. This foray back into The State Of My Hair is a little out of nowhere, although I could tell she was distressed over the new pink tips that had faded in.

My first impulse is to tell her that the girls I’m into have way crazier hair than me, but while she’s never said anything homophobic, I wasn’t up to that battle. Besides, I do like this woman. “Well, ma’am, I don’t think I’d want to date someone who couldn’t love me over something as shallow as my hair color…”

That seems to give her some thought, because she nods. She also sighs and says, “Jennifer wants to color her hair.”

Jennifer is her eleven year old great-granddaughter. Jennifer has also recently discovered the pop-punk scene and thinks I am some sort of pop-punk god. This is an adorable misconception that I AM going to go on a tangent about, so buckle up:

—

Jennifer usually accompanies her great grandma to the grocery store, so we’ve met a few times. This time, I’m wearing a Panic! At The Disco shirt, and we get to chatting about Fall Out Boy, when I happen to mention going to see them in concert back in 2007.

Jennifer’s eyes go HUGE and she whispers, “You got to see them in concert in 2007?? I wasn’t even alive back then!”

…the story ends here because I promptly crumbled into ash and died, leaving my florist station unmanned, my shop abandoned, and my youth draining into the gutters with the fragile remains of my ego.

“I wasn’t even alive back then!” Christ I’m getting old. This is only going to get worse as I get older too, god I remember when you could only watch anime by pirating it off of old VHS tapes and all of the cool anime merch had to be bought in a shady ass adult video store with curtains separating the kids from the dildos. My mom came in with me exactly once, and saw Inuyasha playing in shitty quality on a tiny TV and would you BE-LIEVE it had to be one of those bathing scenes. Took me years of swearing up and down that anime wasn’t synonymous with porn before she would let me buy Spirited Away on DVD, much less deign to watch—

Wait, too much tangent, back to grandma.

—

Jennifer is tip-toeing around Granny’s conservative sensibilities by gingerly applying small streaks of chalk color to her hair. Easing grandma into the idea of colored hair. I suspect I’m also being used to desensitize granny somewhat, as I’m CLEARLY employable, healthy, and sane. It’s a process.

At this moment, Jennifer is sporting one (1) streak of pink in her bangs. So rebellious. I tell them honestly that I think it looks cute, and besides, the schools around here allow it now, so it can’t be that bad, right?

Grandma purses her lips, and takes the basil plants from my hands. “Well, I suppose this chalk stuff is okay, since it washes out. But could you imagine such a thing on a woman my age?”

“Hey, why not?” I tell her. “You’ve got pure white hair so it would take the color really well, you’re married, you’ve got two generations of grandkids…why not have some fun?”

She looks absolutely gobsmacked. “Me! With colored hair! Oh, that’s ridiculous, dear.”

—

You can probably guess where this is heading.

As much as I would LOVE to say that this nice grandma went whole hog and dyed her hair bright neon pink or something, this customer isn’t that wild lmao.

Instead, around last Christmas, this happened:

The poinsettias are in, which is both blessing and curse. They come in a MASSIVE variety of boxes, with traditional poinsettia arrangements and the endless string of strange novelty poinsettia ornament vases. They’re TINY, half of them are BROKEN, and the Christmas trees will be arriving in like, ten minutes, and the early birds and prudent customers are all swarming us like VULTURES.

Among these vultures is grandma, Jennifer, and Jennifer’s father (?). They catch my eye, and break out of the kettle to speak to me. I’ve never met the man, but he just stands there on his phone looking vaguely annoyed, so for our purposes, he’s not there.

Jennifer points to her grandma’s head and whispers, “Look!”

Two locks—barely a fourth of an inch each—have been colored red and green. A strand between them is still white. All three have been tied into a red, white, and green braid. The braid is carefully clipped into a bun with a tiny gold icon of the manger scene.

As I’m gasping and congratulating grandma for her rebellion, she’s giggling with excitement and tells me, “I made sure to talk to Father Ben about it first, and he promised me that the Lord would see this as a lovely way to celebrate His son’s birth.”

She paused, then said, “It’s temporary, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” I tell her. “You can’t go too crazy right out the gate.”

And she nods, “Exactly. That’s what I told Jennifer. You know, I’ve never done anything like this in my life? Can you believe that? My husband was so surprised!”

(Last I heard, grandma has not dyed her hair again, although she is still very very proud of herself for doing so. I haven’t seen her lately, but I’m hoping she comes around this Christmas with more dyed braids)

#anecdotes #florist stories #asks!

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inspired-aspirer · 6 years ago

Text

Z Berg and Ryan Ross Concert Masterpost

hello and I am sorry that I promised to post before Christmas about my experience of flying to LA for the Z Berg and Friends concert where I saw and met Ryan Ross. Here is a breakdown of the night and how it went from what I remember and if you have any questions after I post this I will do my best to answer them and if I cannot I will tell you and perhaps someone who can answer you question better than I.

1. anything before the concert

So I know many of the people reading this are not in fact, from Los Angeles California, and I can say I am not one of those people. I live in the middle of nowhere, better known as the state of Oklahoma. So the trip in and of itself was my Christmas present and cost ten times over the price of the ticket to the concert itself. I decided to purchase the tickets after Ryan Ross posted to instagram his photo of the Bad List shoot with “…Gonna play some new ones” as the caption to his post on 30th November. I then convinced three of my friends to come with me, flying from Oklahoma, Georgia and another from Alabama. We found some cheap ass tickets that ran about $250 each and convinced some family friends to let us use their beach house for a weekend and we were off. The tickets were $15.00 before taxes and fees, afterwards they rang up to be a grand total of $18.21.

It is notable that the tickets sold out prior to the day of the concert so I would recommend with any of Z’s concerts in the future, to buy your tickets weeks in advance to avoid anyone not getting a ticket.

2. the day of the concert

a. before doors open

The location of the concert was at the Pico Union Project which my friends and I looked up the night before to scope out the place. I recommend looking up the places around it if you plan on camping out for the day for a restroom and most definitely pack snacks. I ate lunch at noon and made the mistake of not eating again until 6am the next day which really was not a good thing. So pack snacks and take care of yourself. We got there around 3:30pm and there were already about 30ish people. We just missed Z coming out early to see everyone and take pictures, but nonetheless, we got a pretty great spot in line. I will say that for the most part, all of the people waiting outside the concert were lovely, and we all had a great time talking about what we were looking forward to and where everyone was from. I met some chill locals who had been to these things before, a guy who had been to every single one of Z’s concerts and a girl who, like me, got this trip as a Christmas present and flew with her mom all the way from Massachusetts.

*We all added eachother on insta and facebook so 10/10 quality people.

I will however, point out some things that were not good or respectful, and I hope people in the future will refrain from doing this in the future.

1. Being disrespectful to people passing by, especially to some of the homeless people we saw walking by throughout the evening.

2. Wearing new Panic! merch (I’ll get into this later because there was an issue to be dealt with during the meet and greet time.)

3. Playing new Panic! songs while people are trying to listen the pre-show sound check and rehearsals, or just playing new Panic! stuff in general

4. Also I overheard a group of girls say “Honestly, I am more of a Brendon fan, he is sooo hot. And tbh fuck Ryan Ross haha” and I get it, everyone is entitled to their opinion and such but if you are going to have that attitude, please keep it to yourself. I didn’t hear such negativity during the meet and greet from them but it really put me in a bad mood when I heard that.

The doors did open right at 8 o’clock and everyone was really good at staying in their place in line and not rushing the door. Have your tickets ready to scan and phones at full brightness. (Bring battery packs because you will need your phone for a ticket scan and probably for pics of the performances and if you want to meet them later so save it for as long as possible.) Due to our great spot in line we sat in the fourth row back which was prime seating and we had the great luck of sitting behind Z’s family which was really fun to hear them talk about the work put into the show and other fun tid bits. There was even a point when her grandmother said something like “I don’t know why they insisted on leaving so late to get here. I think they should have left early and had a nice lunch before all this” and I thought that was the most adorable and grandma thing to say. Also if you are 21 or older, you can get a wristband for alcohol, if you have your ID out and ready to show them when you first walk into the venue when they scan your ticket. I also recommend getting into the line for merch quickly because things do sell out and the line does take forever. I immediately got in line when my ticket was scanned while my friends snagged seats and it still took me about 20-30 minutes to get everything I wanted. Also I recommend taking cash to buy things, it makes everything go faster.

b. the concert

The concert itself was amazing. Z hosted the entire first half from the balcony in an exact replica of Sharon Tate’s wedding dress as I am sure you have seen photos of. I will confirm, it was magical. She curses like a sailor in front of a backdrop of pure grace. She interacted with he audience the entire time and genuinely enjoys just spending time with her fans and the people that came to hear some good music. The first half of the show was the “& Friends” portion of the show, with majority of the people playing one song each with a few exceptions such as Azure Ray, Jackson Browne, Alex Greenwald and of course, Ryan Ross.

So throughout the concert, people in the concert/show (idk what I would call it officially???) would come in and out from backstage to watch each other, which I thought was wholesome. Ryan did not come out to watch like everyone else and my working theory is, the one time he did poke his head out the door, first of all, me and like 10 other people saw him, he smiled and winked (I died) and then went back in, after that people stopped paying attention to whomever was onstage and so I think he didn’t want to take away from the other acts performing. It's admirable and I understand why he stayed backstage until it was his time to go and then would promptly exit after his numbers were done.

In the first half Ryan came out with Alex Greenwald and played the guitar for him. Everyone screamed and cheered despite the wonderfully melancholic mood of the crowd mixed with the beautifully crestfallen music that had preceded them. Alex jokingly said “wow you guys are so nice” after we screamed following the remark someone in the back made along the lines of “I love you Ryan”. Let’s be honest, we were all thinking it and she had the courage to say it. So as far as the number, he sat and played his guitar in a suit that looked one size too big and jet black hair that was perfectly out of place. It was heaven. Following Alex’s song, Ryan ditched the guitar and joined him to sing “Lonely Moonlight” as a duet. He made jokes prior to the song saying they wrote it “18 or 25 years ago”. Alex agreed and laughed to which Ryan amended “actually it was the year 1825 when we wrote this” and the crowed giggled with them.

What I’m getting at is this entire concert, there were moments when you felt like no one else was around and you are sitting in any one of their living rooms, having a good time listening to them play their music and laugh with each other. “Lonely Moonlight” was beautiful and the hall was silent a part from them, no one dared speak until Ryan smiled and walked off the stage and disappeared backstage again. A few more beautiful songs later, many which Z sang in followed and then there was a brief intermission for approximately 15 minutes.

The second half of the concert Z came back on stage to the “Overture” from Nightmare Before Christmas and I died. Her voice is literally angelic and I just want everyone to know that while you damn well know that she knows she has the best fuckin’ voice ever, she remained absolutely graceful about it in any duet she did and didn’t try to out do anyone and remained humble the entire freaking time and I’m gonna cut myself off right now because she is my role model.

*inhales*

Anyways, so I’m just gonna tell you she brought Ryan on stage with one of the most iconic ways you could bring Ryan on stage, “Um, haha, I think I need a little baby Ryro” *everyone screams* “I do that to when he walks into a room. After ten years it is getting pretty fuckin’ annoying” and he smiled and laughed and everyone was probably either screaming or crying or a combination of both. She and Ryan sang “Calm Before the Storm” together, he just sang with her and she played the guitar as well. After his bit in the song was done, he just walked to the back of the stage and sat on the floor and just smiled at her and did some funny gestures, (Again, I have this on video, I just don’t know how to link long videos in a tumblr post). The crowd was amused by this and it caused Z to turn around to see what was going on, and they laughed.

Again the atmosphere was pure enjoyment and I wish everyone would get to experience that at any concert. Then he walked off stage while Z said “yeah we just love to watch you walk away” and truer words have never been spoken. The final time he did come out to perform was, of course, for “The Bad List”.

c. The Bad List

Yes I am giving this one song an entire thing on it’s own because I just have a lot of things to say about this performance of this song.

First of all, during the soundcheck while we (all the crazy fans) were outside we heard the song resonate outside the walls and the sound was angelic, so you could only imagine what it sounded like inside the venue.

Second, everything before, during, and after really just was surreal and thank god I have the whole thing on video (and I mean the WHOLE 7.5 minutes) because it is NOT something I want to ever forget. Ryan came onstage, and hugged Z and everyone awed, and then she went into this adorable and heart-warming speech thanking her fans and the people coming out tonight while Ryan tried to move his mic to the other side of her.

This was hilarious for two reasons.

First, any footage I have seen of Ryan Ross, out doing normal people things has just been gold because just like the rest of us, I would imagine, he is on the struggle bus every day going nowhere fast. So he had a time and a half trying to move the mic stand along with everything else to the other side of the stage.

Second, Z was completely oblivious the entire time he was trying his best, to move the mic. Adorable really. He also chimed in at the end of her speech that “She means that it’s all she has been talking about all week” which apparently embarrassed her but let’s be real, she is two perfect and sweet to even think abou tbeing embarassed. Don’t worry, she got him back by calling him out for saying they should turn up the piano “a weenie bit”. Then she announced they were going to sing “The Bad List” and everyone cheered to which Ryan responded with a sarcastic “Wait have you heard it yet?” and yeah, the song began.

It was divinely depressing. It was perfection.

Videos of the preformance don’t do it justice. We were the first and so far the only audience to hear it live, and everything I did to get there up to this point was worth it. It was the best performance of any song I have ever witnessed. I will navigate this hell site and hopefully figure out how to upload the video without getting copyright to take it down on my youtube channel and link it below so you guys can watch it.

As many of you know, the song it super personal to them and a few times, you heard Z’s voice break from the truth the lyrics spoke about their life, and when each of them sang, the other really didn’t look at them. It was moving to see the emotion that drove the lyrics to the song and to hear which lines bled the most to each of them. In the piano instrumental part of the song, Ryan broke up the melancholy mood by asking Z to dance with him and they smiled and had a blast (or so it looked). She eventually went limp in his arms to play dead and you could see Ryan laughing at the theatrics she pulled.

After the song ended, the smiled, everyone cheered, and they exchanged a few words which I couldn’t make out before she pulled everyone on stage for the final number. Ryan, ever the smol bean, walked to the side of the stage and did his best to blend in when everyone else from the evening piled on stage.

d. last number and Post-concert

Ok so I am almost done, I promise. The last number was “All Out of Tears” which everyone came up on stage for and sang with her on. Everyone stood up from thier pews for the last song and everyone clapped, danced, and sang along with her. The guitar and bass from the speakers were so loud that the “Z” hanging above the stage fell down in the middle of the performance, to which Alex Greenwald played the tambourine to throughout the second half of the song. Z promised that she would stay until the very last person got a picture or hug or autograph and wouldn’t leave until then.

The concert ended on a high note unlike another.

side note: so I know there is a joke about Ryan not being able to clap, and let me tell you, I made a point to look at the big ass rings he wears all the time when I met him, and yeah it would make me not able to clap normal either. In the video I have of them preforming “All Out of Tears” he at one point shakes his hands and mouths “ow” because I’d imagine his poor hands hurt. So yeah, still funny but give the guy a break.

After a breif break they all came out from backstage and made their way to the Christmas tree. They (Ryan and Z, the rest of the people left before I could get their autograph) kept their promise. Ryan came out chugging yellow red bulls and Z was a new woman after ripping off her straps to her dress (she told me and my friends this). I waited two and a half hours in line to meet Ryan and Z. It was at about two in the morning when I finally got my turn to speak to him. I noticed throughout the evening, he was never short with anyone, and if someone seemed overwhelmed and nervous (@me) he would take a pause, ask for your name and listen intently to whatever that person had to say to him. I was extremely nervous to have him sign any old Panic! merch and I have a few things to say about Ryan Ross and Panic! merch at the concert.

First off, don’t wear it, especially if it is new. Now I am not one for gatekeeping on a lot of things. However, I did see an individual (my hero) make a girl take of a new Panic! lanyard before she went up to see Ryan. It is disrespectful and frankly insensitive for anyone to do that to him in my opinion. The entire time he was patient, and understanding and omg if you ever get to hear his chuckle you will surely die and go to heaven, but I am appalled at anyone who would wear new Panic! merch or have the audacity to have him sign it. Thankfully, she took it off and I didn’t see anyone ask him to sign any new Panic! merch.

Second, Ryan is more than delighted to see The Young Veins apparel. One of the people I met at the concert was wearing a Young Veins sweatshirt and I saw some albums and CD’s people brought to him to sign and he had no issue doing so.

Third, on the issue of Panic! merch he WAS a part of, such as AFYCSO and Pretty. Odd. albums, he signs them no problem. The girl right before me had all three CD’s (afycso, pretty odd, and take a vacation) and he said “Wow haha, you have all three of them” and laughed. I split up the stuff I wanted signed between myself and three friends so I got four things signed. One was my 2007 Rolling Stones issue where Panic! made the cover, I flipped the magazine to the page that had his face on it and when I gave it to him I had the best reaction.

Well, first I totally blanked out so I only remember this because one of my friends videotaped the whole thing. Anyways, I said “hi, don’t hate me for what I am about to have you sign” among other things, gave him a letter and a bag of sour patch kids, and he said, no worries and just continued talking to me like it was no big deal. when I handed him the magazine he went “Oh man, I haven’t seen this photo in a while.” and even was stumped as to where he should sign it. He took the time to talk to me and let me say what I wanted to say to him. I asked to hug him and he said ok. Just so you know, he lets you take any kind of photo you want (within reason). Unfortunately I don’t have a single photo where we are looking at the same camera, but I have a 10/10 photo of Ryan Ross giving me a hug and let me just say, I am blessed. Another of my friends got an afysco vinyl signed and another got the booklet to my Pretty. Odd. CD signed without any issue or trouble.

Now, my friend had a silver sharpie which I gave her before to sign a poster I bought of the cover of The Bad List with him and Z on it and she said he went to sign it, started to, then saw the silver sharpie, and went, “that is a silver sharpie” and she went, “it is” and then he said “I want to sign with the silver sharpie” so he signed my poster AGAIN in silver sharpie. Then, she went to Z to have her sign it, and she signed it and said “Wait, did he sign this twice? Well now I have to” and she signed the poster at the top in the middle and again on the picture. So that is the story of how I got the poster signed twice by both of them.

e. Tid bits

I don’t think you want to hear all of the tid bits I have from talking to them on and off for an hour or so but here are the highlights.

I also got to hear Ryan say he made the Christmas playlist that was playing in the background.

At one point, Z said, “I have to go to the bathroom, but he will be mad at me if he knows I left. Don’t tell him” and ran to the bathroom. Well Ryan did notice and went “where did she go” and we said “She said we can’t tell you” and he laughed and went back to signing and talking to whoever was next in line.

Before I left Ryan I said to him “by the way, I can’t wait to hear the new music” and he chuckled and replied “Soon, I promise” and smiled before I left, so there’s that.

Also might I add. I got the best hug of my life from Z. I spent like two solid minutes with my fiends telling her she was absolute perfection (there are no lies in that statement) and gushed over how amazing the show was and everything else and then she game me a solid, and I mean solid, 30 second hug and to be honest I didn’t want to let go. Then we talked to her some more and had a good time and then realized we had to leave because we had about 2 and a half hours until we had to be at LAX for our flight out. I cried on the way back because hello? I met Ryan Ross and Z Berg and you best believe I will do just about anything to make sure I can go to any more of her concerts.

So yeah I will try to post videos later. Thank you for your patience with me and uploading it. If you have ANY questions, please send me an ask. I won’t mind answering them at all. I hope everyone had a wonderfully dreadful Christmas on The Bad List and I can’t wait to see what music Ryan has in store for 2019.

much love ♥♥♥

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thewayshefeels1 · 6 years ago

Text

A letter I never sent

I hate you because I feel ripped, stripped, and defective. You discarded me and threw me away. I remember the last time we spoke, do you? You never stick to your word so I don’t know why I believed you’d keep your promise. They mean shit to you but everything that ever came out of your mouth, I took seriously. I guess at least one of us did. You said you’d keep in touch; you would check in. You deleted your Instagram, or just blocked me. When I saw, it made me sad. It’s probably for the best, so I can’t stalk you. It forces me to “move on” or whatever. You said you’d call… why haven’t you? I worry about you, but I bet you couldn’t give two shits about what I’m doing right now. I’m sure you have a new girl. I wonder what she looks like? What’s her name, how you met? Do you tell her about me? Your “crazy” ex? You’re not the type to stay single for long, even though you said the opposite when I met you, but that was just another lie. Figures. It sucks because I doubt you give a damn about my existence. I hoped I’d be over you by now, but we know how that goes. I want to see and talk to you so bad, but I wonder what you’d do or say. I feel like I’m in rehab, detoxing from a drug, you. It’s painful, slow and torturous. I never want to get into another relationship again. I just broke up with my last boyfriend…. mostly because it was unfair to him, as I was thinking of you the entire time. Breaking up with him was a piece of cake compared to you and even after our break up, I’m still more upset about you. It’s weird honestly… the thought of never seeing you again. I know it’s for the best but when I imagine never hearing your voice or touching you again… let’s just say I can’t. To accept it would destroy me. I’m always [secretly] hoping I run into you. I know you don’t miss me but I miss you so much. If you were dead I would slit my throat just to be with you again if that’s what it took. I make myself sick when I see how obsessed I am. You’re not a good person. You made me feel so small and your words are ingrained on my soul forever. I can’t forget them or what you did to me. You said you would call…

I have no clue if you will receive this and if I decide to give this to you, it will turn into a long ass letter that will force me to contemplate my poor choices. A year ago today we had our picnic in the park. I remember standing at the top of some cliff with your arms around me. There was a gentle breeze and we took photos that I looked pretty good in. I remember playing you songs that reminded me of you and feeling my heart unravel since they could speak to you in ways I couldn’t. My grandma gave you sauce and I recall you admitting you don't like sauce so it was funny watching you eat it. I can’t remember shit yet everything I experienced with you is unforgettable. It fucks me up since a huge part of me wants to erase the memories because they sting whenever they flash by. I was telling my friend the other day that being with you was like being in one of those romantic comedies. I used to eat those up in high school, like all girls. We all wish for that "notebook" sort of love. We all know it's made up; nor realistic to expect that "meant to be" crap. But I had moments with you, where I felt that fantasy unfold. So why am I writing this you may ask? I'm not trying to nestle my way back into your life. The wisest part of me hopes your eyes never read these words. A week ago, I had a huge moment of weakness and went to your house. I know that sounds stalkerish, but screw it, I'm laying it all on the line. Yes, I drove by your house. I thought I was going to throw up and felt physically sick. I was in your "neck of the woods" and can't deny the idea has never crossed my mind. However, I've been strong and resisted those times. I couldn't this time for some reason. I was feeling somewhat petty and lonely for reasons I shall not get into. It was late and I know I don't have any business bothering you, but I really wanted to see you. Truthfully, I always want to see you. I figured I'd risk the chance of rejection and before you know it, I was outside your house. It was surreal; I had to take five minutes [at least] to recuperate. While debating my life decisions, your mom opened the door. I took a deep breath and went in. We talked for hours. She said I just missed you. Part of me thought “damn it” and the other “thank god”. It's been almost a year since I've seen you yet I felt right at home. When I hugged your mom and sister I never wanted to let go. Your mom explained all that's happened in the past few months and I didn't want to show it bothered me. I told my friend I won't let anything happen to you and nobody can hurt you. I said I'd kill anyone who tries to harm you and they'd have to go through me first. He asked why I care so much and I don't know, I don't want to care. It sucks when all you want to do is move on. I'm sorry for what you've been through. I mean it when I say I pray for you all the time. I wish nothing but what’s best for you. You may think that's full of shit, or I'm just trying to sound all "goody goody" but if that was the case, why would I be going through all this trouble? Unless I was some sort of manipulative psycho (you may say that's debatable) but I swear I'm not. Maybe a bit out my mind but not psychotic. Life has taught me a lot of things, and this last year has been one hell of a ride. Sometimes I wish we never met, that is very harsh but true. Please hear me out. Half of the time I believe you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me. If this is hard to hear (or read rather) please know this is unbelievably painful to write. Losing you was the most painful loss in my life. Losing my father was tough. But it was like ripping off a Band-Aid. I miss my dad all the time. I'm not saying it was easy, no way. He was the first male love of my life. But he was sick my whole life. Part of me feels like I never really knew him-the true him. It's complicated. My dad was the only man I truly know loved me, the real me. (Again don't get pissed) His death was expected. You never really know how to lose a person. You can plan for it all you want, but you're never truly prepared. My dad is gone and I accept that. He is my guardian, my guide, I see him in every kind person I meet, in every nice encounter I have and whenever I feel love. He protects me and has saved me many times. I know we'll meet again. But you on the other hand. I wasn't ready when you came into my life. Our relationship was turbulent. Losing you was EXCRUCIATING. It still is. I haven't accepted it. When my therapist says that I'll never see you again, I can't face it. I'm in . You're still alive. Which is great, but nothing is worse than grieving the loss of someone who is still living. You're left wondering, hoping. Every time I'd get a call after the last time we talked, i'd wish it'd be you. Every time I'd walk by your friend’s house up the block and I'd see a silver car, I'd wish it'd be you. I'd always hoped I'd run into you. I'd always be disappointed because I'd worry I'd never see you again and this is something I couldn't come to terms with. Is it really over? No it just can't be I'd tell myself. Knowing you're out there, and not knowing at the same time what you're doing kills me. But I told myself “you have to be strong. You have to practice what you preach”. 10:15PM I've come to the conclusion this will take forever and a day to write. It may never end! There will be no conclusion, no ending. It will just go on forever and be a never ending love note to you so that way I have an excuse to not give it & stop myself. Our paths cannot cross. CAN NOT. Do you know why? I cannot survive round 2. I would not make it out alive. I would never be able to live through losing you again. It was the worst, absolute worst, most heartbreaking thing that has happened to me. That night, the last night in the Friendly’s parking lot, when you drove away, you drove away with a piece of me I will never get back. I wanted so badly to scream to not drive away, to drive after you. Between that moment and now, a part of me remains hollow. It sucks because only you have it, the chunk of my heart or whatever fills the gap. Only you can appease this ache, but only you can cause it too. I don't mean to put all the blame on you. I'm not making you responsible for all my suffering. I chose to stay; condoned behavior and enabled. Although I don’t believe in that meant to be crap, I do believe our paths crossed for a reason. I did not by any means choose to fall for you. When I fell, I fell hard, face first. Face planted. with say in the matter. It scared me to death. Not half to death, to death. Yet meeting you was what I expect moving to a new city is like, refreshing, exciting, thrilling, and although you're anxious/nervous, you hope it'll work out. You act like you know what you are doing. There's mysterious and curiosity, a sense of beauty… I'm getting ahead of myself here, I'm pretty sure I've told you all this. I hope the thoughts crossed your mind even once as to what's been going on in my life the last 4 seasons. If not no big deal I'll fill you in anyway. Only reason I say I hope is because I'll feel 5% less pathetic if you've thought of me once or twice within the last 11 months. As you may remember in August I was hospitalized. On the 19th after work one day I'm not sure what set me off. I know I was feeling depressed about our breakup but also my TMS treatments weren't working and so I overdosed. My mom found me unconscious in my bed the next morning. Apparently she called my aunt and when I was unresponsive they brought me to the ER. I was in Brookhaven for two weeks. 12:15PM Time’s going by and it’s nice because I’m feeling less of an urge to contact you. It’s freeing because now that I’m thinking about it… I’m thinking of you a lot less lately. Lately meaning these last couple of days. Is that a slap in the face? We all want to be adored, admired, to be the center of somebody’s life right? Well sorry if that hits a sore spot but I think it’s because I’ve been distracted the last week. I’ve been working out a lot more than usual, probably to the point of obsession. It’s not healthy but I love working out because I get to take my mind off things, off life for a while. Even for an hour is so…relieving? I’ve been listening to your friends song “illusion” quite a heck of a lot on Spotify. I first heard it on Facebook. I’ve listened so much I’ve gotten quite bored with it, although I still listen a lot. It’s very good. I added it to my favorites and memorized the words. Not because he’s your friend, frankly I could care less, but because it’s beautiful. The song reminds me of you a lot actually.I'm walking past your friend’s house now ...what’s his name, Nick? I always have this false hope for your car. Every time I pray your Kia will be outside but never is. Even though it's been plenty of times... I've never stopped looking, hoping for you. And every time I’m right at that corner I see the dealership and just stare like some nut job. Whenever I take a walk and pass by franklin Avenue. Do you know what or where that is? Of course not. You don't but that was one of the last places I ever saw you. The first time we broke up was on that street, on New Year’s/Eve we went there and I sucked you off plenty of times there too. Ring a bell? So much time passed between us but all it takes is one second to take me back... to the first second and third time when I kissed you, it still sends shivers down my spine. I never knew that one night in July would be the last time I'd see you. I knew it had to be. But part of me hoped it wouldn’t. Like an itch I've been desperately reaching for, dying to scratch. So why did u do it? Or better yet why didn't you? Why didn't u fight for me? U say u did but frankly that's bullshit. We fought but mostly for ourselves. I fought for peace of mind and you fought for power. Almost a year and u never came back for me. And I hate u for it. You did the right thing by obeying my/my mom’s wishes but I hate myself mostly, for waiting. It must be good to know that I'm still holding on. Holding on to letting go. All these months, days, seasons have gone by and I've never stopped holding out for you. Every time my phone would ring and I wouldn't recognize the number I'd pray to god it was you. Deep down I knew it wasn’t so I wouldn't get my hopes up. Last time we talked you said you'd call in a month or so. You never did. It KILLED me. I thought u moved on. So I tried to as well. But I never quit wondering why? Did you not care? Because not for one minute did I ever quit loving you. Do you recall one of the first things you said to me in December over the phone? We didn’t speak for 4 months and do you remember what you said? “It’s my birthday in 2 days” I wondered why the hell did I call? Probably because my inhibitions were low and I was tipsy but that’s beside the point. It gave me the perfect excuse to call; so I could blame it on the alcohol. My heart sank because I already knew first of all, I hadn’t forgotten your birthday. How naïve can you be? I asked myself. When we got off the phone I was proud of my decision to not be with you. But then the ache came back, weeks, months later. Did I miss you? Or did your absence give me enough time away just to miss your ghost? To create this image of someone in my head who I always hoped you’d be? I always asked that question-did I love you? Or did I love who I thought you could be? Because frankly, the man in front of me was disappointing. Saying he missed my sex when I missed everything – holding hands, your presence, looking at you from the passenger seat, you being a pain in the ass but MY pain in the ass, rolling my eyes at you, your weird voices and dumb things you would do to try & get me to laugh and sometimes I’d fake laugh but at the end of the day, I never met anyone like you. I would've stuck around you know. I would've stayed through it all and I wish I could be there for you now. Hugging you tight to help you get through this, so that you're not alone. I wanted to be your partner in crime. I wanted it to be us. When I think about you, so many times I'll just close my eyes. My heart will hurt & I'll feel this longing that I can't help but wonder if you feel me too? Could you ever possibly be thinking of me the same time I'm thinking about you? Does that one moment bring us back together again? I always thought what I'd do if I ever saw you again, what I'd say, how I'd feel and react. I can't imagine it. I've played so many scenarios over in my head but I don't think I can do it. I think I'd pass out and I've never fainted before. Yesterday my therapist told me I’d probably shit myself & to not risk it [ha-ha]. I was listening to a podcast which said if a person from your past isn't in your life anymore then they don't exist in your present reality. That made me sad and reject the idea. After I was released from the hospital I was put into an adult partial hospitalization program at Mather in the fall. I changed my number and I was determined to move on with my life. This letter may never make its way to you and that's the only reason I'm saying this, is about to get real. Think of it as the story of our relationship and my life up to this point. During our relationship I became very ill, mentally and physically. Prior to our relationship I already had emotional issues but I developed severe post-traumatic stress disorder that led me to have night terrors, a cataplectic attack (a form of cataplexy which I thought was a seizure) in my sleep, insomnia, memory and chronic gastrointestinal issues. During my stay in this intensive outpatient program my psychiatrist wanted to put me on high blood pressure medication used for war veterans because of my PTSD. I feel bad telling u this, like it should be some secret, but do u know how miserable the last year has been? I was on so much medication my grandma looked like an Olympic athlete. Once u told me I stress you out so u started smoking cigarettes again. I doubt u even recall this, so go ahead and deny it. But why would I make that up. Why would I make ANY of this up? This is taking me days, weeks to write and u may never even get it? And if u did nobody will see it besides u so who am I trying to fool. You'd tell me I stressed u out a lot. Do you remember half the shit u said to me? I doubt it. But I do. Maybe u didn't mean it when u said nobody will ever love me like you or any other guy besides u would treat me like shit; but the last day I saw you made me so glad it would be the last. Why? You may ask. Because of something you may consider silly or miniscule, but me my friend, for me it was the cherry on top of the big delicious sundae called our relationship. Do you remember asking for a goodbye kiss? It was only a simple sweet kiss goodbye after all? No big deal, I owed it to you anyways you said. But actually I owe you nothing. I still owe you nothing. And my lips belong to me which are on my body which belongs to who you may be wondering? TO ME. So when I told you no, I don’t think it quite registered. You never took that word lightly. Did it bruise your ego? Or did you just assume that since you were my boyfriend you automatically gained this right? Over me, my decisions, my body? For a good 10 minutes or so you convinced me as to why I had to kiss you and sure enough, I gave you what you wanted like I always did, eventually. But I asked you why you’d even want a kiss if it wasn’t freely given and that’s when I knew this was it. Really, I knew before that. It broke my heart when it finally hit me that no matter what, you weren’t going to be it. Do you know how much that sucked? I wanted nothing more for a happy ever after, but it dawned on me that no matter what I did, how hard I tried, nothing I could say would save us, we weren’t going to end up together. It was heartbreaking. You can’t force life into something that must die. Then I started to lose myself. I consider myself to be a kind, loving person and maybe at this point you disagree. But I had this light before we started dating. But by the end of our relationship though, that light was gone. I turned cold, towards you, towards everyone but most importantly, towards myself. I tried to be nice I really did. But the last month or so I couldn’t pretend. When I saw myself disregarding your feelings, treating you how you treated me (more or less) I knew there was a big issue. Despite all the worlds thrown at me, I’ve rarely used my circumstances as an excuse to treat people like shit. In this moment are you thinking “what did I even do? Why are you making me out to be a monster? I wasn’t so bad, it was you!” Good question. And if I think you’re such a dick, then why do I even bother? Even BETTER question, glad you asked!Thing is, I don't think you're the scum of the earth. I see the good in you. I recognize your shortcomings. We all have flaws. Due to our past/present circumstances, we can spread light or stay in darkness. I'm writing you because I believe in you. Is that reassuring or does that just piss you off? When I first met you, you sparked a fire deep within me; you made me see the positive. You made me laugh, you made me cry (tears of joy) I had faith in my dreams; I wanted to be the best I could be. Isn't that the point of it all? Of a relationship? To encourage each other, inspire & motivate each to do more, be more? Aspire to learn and reach for the stars? To accept each other where u are now but strive for better because you know there's endless potential; there's no limit to what u can do... that's what I hoped for my life. But after a while, I just felt bad. In general & about myself. All I wanted was please you. My whole world, my whole life revolved around you. It's not supposed to be like that. I felt alone, isolated. I was being accused of shit I didn't deserve; I felt I had to hide things for no reason. Ultimately, I was afraid of you. Did you get off on intimidating me? I thought I was going insane. Part of me figured if I could grant your every wish, then things would get better. But after that didn't work, I switched gears. If I could solve all YOUR problems then our problems would be solved. I concentrated my time and energy on your garbage so I didn't have to take out my own trash. For a while maybe things would be calm. But half the time I didn't know who you were. Were you this sweet, fun loving, charismatic guy, or this jealous, possessive manipulator who acted more like a dictator than a partner? Only bringing on the charm when you wanted demands obeyed. Need an example? Once I got home from my eating disorder program & was feeling really sick. It was when my stomach problems began and you wanted to see me. I was scared of telling you I couldn't hang because I was nauseous but didn't want to be reprimanded. But in group we were learning how to assert ourselves and I figured part of dating is being honest... well did I have to deal with the consequences. You complained about how I don't care or else I'd make time to see you and if I liked you as much as you liked me...yada yada. I would probably understand if you couldn't chill. You'd put words in my mouth constantly. I'd be blamed and guilted for almost everything, let's be real. It was too much. Call me a shitty girlfriend if you want but I tried. Just don't say one thing then do another. It's not right. It wasn't until I was single for a while that I learned being called a "fucker, bitch, dick" by your significant other ISN'T okay. I have the right for space; I have the right to disagree. Relationships are 50:50. I know you know that, you've probably been in more than me but ours was the only one that really mattered (to me) If you want something to work you have to work with the person. Not say "if you loved me you would..." or do something hurtful then say "just kidding" cause if that was the case then our whole relationship was a joke to you. But it wasn't to me. When you love someone you love them despite the fact they're not pleasing u Day in day out. I want love the way I love my cat. It's unconditional. Hear me out...he doesn't necessarily know I love him. He may or may not love me but I DON'T CARE. I love him regardless. He does nothing for me. I tell him I love him and does he say it back? No. He doesn't have to. I say because I mean it, no expectations. You can do something just because you want to, without asking anything in return. It's called selflessness. That's how I wanted our love to be. That's how I tried to love you. I felt your love at times, but mostly in times of tragedy. When I'd feel I was about to lose you & you were about to lose me. Is that what it's going to take for us to not be at war with each other? Someone shouldn't have to slip out of your hands for you to hold tight to them. I needed you to listen to me when I talked to you. Not sit there and not speak but actually hear me. I wanted to know you. Understand YOU from your toes to the top of your head. All of you. But it was destroying me. Did you not see it? Could you not tell or did you just not care? If you can honestly say you didn't notice I was NOT fine then I will take it all back. But how could you say when I needed to be hospitalized in March "how are you doing this to me?" I was on my deathbed and all you could think was about you. You said this in tropical smoothie so don't say I'm full of it. It's not all on you though trust me. I played a big part. I hardly ever put my foot down. I did to the best of my ability. But I lost my voice when I was with you. I felt so unworthy, so lucky to have you that whatever scraps you threw my way I'd gobble up. I'd rather have the worst parts of you than nothing at all. Even if it broke me. I should've set more boundaries; I shouldn't have been such a martyr. I thought if I pleased you, if I sacrificed myself enough then maybe you'd eventually see for once and for all that I gave a fuck. But is that really love? No. That's unhealthy, toxic codependency. Me trying to get you to fill a void inside because I felt so low about myself. That's daddy issues I need to fix. And I am working on my problems. I go to therapy, constantly looking at the skeletons in my closet because I don't want it to be like that anymore. You inflicted pain on me and I thought I deserved it. Masochism is not sexy. I know better now. I'm not perfect by any means. I never will be-none of us are. But I'd like to think I'm not a doormat. I like myself a lot better when I'm honest. Other people seem to like it too. It's more attractive to be transparent anyway. I have needs, wants and desires and if you can't meet them then I'll do it myself. I know what I will and won't stand for. As the saying goes "if you stand for nothing, you'll fall for anything". I take responsibility for not standing up for myself, for smiling when I felt like screaming. After all, how were you supposed to know I was unhappy if I was acting happy all along (to an extent)After I saw youSo I wrote this whole thing before today. It’s ironic how life works. I was just taking a walk & decided to go a different route. I was listening to this song thinking OF YOU and I see a silver KIA. My heart drops. I hold my breath because it looks like it was in the driveway of this kid I went to school with or your friend. Then I got closer and saw the infamous HAY and was like holy fuck what do I do holy mother of god just keep walking. I turned the corner stammering and tripped on the sidewalk, smooth. I was talking to myself like some maniac and didn’t know what to do. Do I turn around? Do I call someone? Scream? Stop walking and sit on the side of the road. But you came back. You came back for me. Yes that boosted my ego a bit knowing you cared. Don’t think I didn’t see that hand over the face side look you gave. Seeing you was probably similar to when people first see a meteor shower, or a shooting star for the first time… WOAH. But I did better than I thought?! I expected vomiting some defecating and possible hospitalization from a severe panic attack. All within a span of 24 hours I’ve – gotten rejected, got told by my therapist she’d no longer be taking me as a client, possibly fired, gotten a Brazilian wax, got a huge tube stuck up my vagina and chunks of my cervix removed, and now saw you. What a day. There was so much I wanted to say. I don’t know why I invited you inside, I have to pretend I’m over it right? We’re supposed to act all tough and like we’re cool kids who have no feelings. Well sorry, that’s not me. I don’t fit the bill because I can’t put on a mask and just act like nothing ever happened. When I hear his name I think hell, heaven, and everything in between. So I will start to wrap this up the best way that I can [to be honest it’ll still probably be another 3 pages but I want to get this letter to you so I’m trying to hustle] I wish loving you could just be an afterthought. We’ll never be able to turn back time, as much as I want to, as much as I wish I could. But thank god for that though right?! Life sucks and is wild sometimes, maybe a lot of the time. But the people you meet, places you go and the lessons you learn along the way, are invaluable. I did end things with you partly because my mom and largely due to my psychiatric condition. But a big piece of it was because I never felt like I was enough for you. The best parts of me kept falling short, and I couldn’t trust you. I had so much disgust towards myself, towards you, and I felt nothing but contempt coming from your side at times. I sobbed much more than I rejoiced and after a while it got tiring. No matter how badly I wanted to pull you back, rewind wasn’t an option. It wasn’t meant to be. I abandoned who I truly was. You burned holes in me that no man could fill; thank god you did though, because I needed to know how to make myself whole. Today I told you I had a boyfriend. He wasn’t a bad guy. He was just immature but he tried. I broke up with him because he was more a filler. When I was with him I’d be wishing I was with you. It’s not that I didn’t like him, it’s just I knew I’d never want to be anybody’s rebound and he deserved someone who would love HIM. We remain civil and are still friendly. He was somewhat sadistic and had a bad temper. He got pretty hostile and aggressive at times with some jealousy issues. I wouldn’t deal with that so I knew it wasn’t a good fit. Not once during our relationship did I ever stop thinking of you and it drove me mad. You’re very rare. I wish you knew how I see you. I wish I could look at the world through your eyes. I want you to know that you are never alone. That sounds so corny but I promise if you’re ever thinking of me, I’m most likely thinking of you. Not wishing death upon you or whatever. Mainly, I’m saying this to you because I want you to know who I really am. My heart has been empty the last year so I’ve learned how to fill it myself. I want you to know that you can be happy again. I take comfort in writing, dancing, coloring, reading, drawing, yoga, photography. Despite all the world throws at us, it’ll be ok. That’s what I know. It’s not OK & then it is again. Not one of us is to blame. I’ve picked up my phone a million times and tried to dial your number. It has been so long. It’s never easy but it does get easier. The first few months I felt like I was going to die. I wanted to. I told my friends I couldn’t live without you, I don’t want TO. You asked me if I still think about you and the answers obvious. Don’t get a big head now. Sometimes all we have left are memories. Sometimes all were left with is a mess. But it’s up to us to clean up that mess and start again. All we can do is try right? I’m sorry that I tried to change you. We can make the world a better place. All we have to do is start with a single change but the only person we can change is ourselves. We can’t change for anyone; we have to want to change for our own good, our own reasons. You asked if I wanted to talk to you again and of course I do. Like that song by lady gaga “you could give me a million reasons to walk away but all I need is a single one to stay”. I think that’s the words at least I don’t know I don’t listen to the radio. But I can’t watch it end the same. For so long I couldn’t listen to my favorite music, the songs hurt too much because they reminded me of you! It took forever to move on from what went wrong and how we got to where we were. I’m finally at a point in my life where I just let it be. I’ve cried hundreds of tears over you. I got so sick of it. It sounds so cliché. Not cute. I figured eventually I’d have no tears left to cry. Isn’t that what they say? Yes and no. We’re probably better off without each other. I don’t know why everyone hates being single? I mean, I love it. It’s a great time to be selfish and get to know yourself. All I can say is, if you are going to be with somebody, know what you have when you have it. I hope I do. We take people and life for granted too much. You felt so much like a curse, but you too were a blessing. You made me feel this magic I didn’t know was possible. But I can’t forget nights at 3am talking to myself, debating on staying or leaving. You taught me what bravery truly is and to that I say thank you. I know why we had to say goodbye but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss you. I don’t know if I ever will stop missing you. The thing about relationships is it forces you to put your heart on the line. To be courageous since people can wake up one day and change their mind. You’re going to get heartbroken in love. It’s part of life. It can feel like the worst part, like a punishment. But it’s really the best. When you feel sorrow over a lost love, you know you loved deeply. And what’s a greater gift than that? We talk down to people we love too easily because we know they love us, we know they’ll take it. That doesn’t make it alright. It can turn into verbal/mental abuse and abuse is the opposite of love. Abuse isn’t just physical. Physical abuse is often the least painful part. Words are like daggers that leave an imprint on your soul. Playing mind games, becoming tyrannical and robbing our loved ones of emotional nurturing is far worse in my opinion. I’ll end with this – I pray you love without pride ever getting in the way. It’s something I’m working on. Seeing you today threw me for a loop [is that the saying?] No matter where this leads, or where life takes us, when you love, love deeply and fully. I believe I gave you the best of me, the most I could. I’d like to think everybody’s doing the best they can with what they have. I know you have a lot of stored up resentment inside you; a lot of anger. Forgiveness isn’t something you do for someone else; it’s a way of releasing yourself from the prison you create yourself when you harbor rage. It’s a gift you give to the world so that you’re free to love again. Or else you’ll just take it out on those who love you, consciously or unconsciously. This I know to be true. You my friend, are my weakness. You create this chaos in my world I wouldn’t want anywhere else. Leaving you was the hardest decision of my life. You changed me, for better and for worse but mostly for the better. I hope you find what you want someday. Life leads us down roads we don’t know why we’re heading towards, but I believe one day we’ll see why. You are unforgettable. Loving you was a pattern of self-discovery because I always end up learning something new about myself. Pain, suffering, hurt, it’s all part of the human experience. You’re an experience I’ll never forget. It’s all too beautiful to forget, after all

Love, Lauren

#trauma #traumatic #traumatized #narcissisticabuse #domesticviolence #abuse #emotionalabuse #letter #loveletter #loveletters #heartbreak #heartbroken #heartbreaking #heartbreaker #journal #journalentry

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purplesurveys · 6 years ago

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378

For a change. I love Internet people for never running out of survey ideas.

Just say what you think of (doesn't have to be one-word answers) when I mention these. Quick, simple, just for fun. Curtain: I remember a story JM told us of when he nearly burned his house down when he was younger - he was flying paper airplanes but not without lighting the tips on fire. One of the planes landed on the curtain and I think it burned that particular room pretty bad or something. Door: I have a door to my right at the moment. It’s brown and I know my dog is waiting outside because I can hear his paws. Shoe: We went shoe hunting yesterday for Joacky, because he wanted a pair of the Nike Cortez. It’s widely popular in the PH right now so even though we visited like 7 shoe stores yesterday, we weren’t able to find one in the color that he likes. Pants: I finally got a pair of mom jeans yesterday and I can’t wait to wear it for school. I’m tired of wearing the same bottoms. Wig: I attended a workshop a few months ago where the speaker disclosed that she has leukemia, and she took off the wig she had been wearing the whole time to show us her head. I also remember the RuPaul Stans part of Twitter because they say ‘wig’ all the time...

Makeup: Kate made me her subject last Thursday and she played with my face and put makeup on it. Ended up feeling really pretty because she did a pretty awesome job. Instagram: I snubbed Instagram for the longest time but thought that a ‘one-pic-for-every-day-of-the-year’ dump account wouldn’t hurt, so I made one of those for 2019. My photography skills are absolutely nowhere to be found, and my gallery is super haphazard, but I really want to make an effort to store memories this year. YouTube: Hmm first thing I thought of was PewDiePie. I subscribed to the dude when he had like 60,000 subscribers eight years ago and only had a couple of Amnesia montages up. I always feel like a proud momma/early bird whenever I remember how far and how big he’s gotten since. Life: Exhaustion, mainly. It’s gonna start snowballing by next year when I graduate. It’ll be nonstop from there - facing the prospect of coming out to my parents, graduating, getting a job, getting my first credit card, moving out, paying bills...it’s all very exhausting, exhilarating, exciting, and overwhelming to think about. Chili: Gabie and I had Japanese for early dinner last week, and I was a little weirded out by the restaurant because each seat had a red chili pepper on the placemat? I’m talking every damn seat in the place??? Idk if it’s some sort of good luck charm for the owners but it made things very slightly unsettling hahaha. Cherry: There was a WWE Diva named Cherry like ten years ago who had the gimmick of a 50′s chick, I think...I was never quite sure what her character was supposed to be, but she had roller-skates every time she went to the ring and would sometimes wear outfits with polka dots so I thought she was pretty cute. Neil: Armstrong. Haha I was going through Reddit awhile ago when I saw a video of Buzz Aldrin punch a dude who went up to him and said that the moon landing was a hoax. Not exactly Neil Armstrong but still a good story. Drive: I like watching car chases. It’s almost...therapeutic when the suspect crashes or loses control of his car and finally gets caught. Murder: I never got into How To Get Away With Murder. It’s too fast-paced for my life. I feel like I’m the only person who doesn’t understand legal concepts because so many people are able to catch up with this show even if Viola Davis speaks a thousand words a minute and they’re all really deep words??? Idk HAHAHA. I watched like two episodes and felt super dumb after. Ice cream: OMG I hate a la mode desserts. I’d eat anything, but I wouldn’t eat two separate things with different textures. Get your ice cream away from my brownie. Water: I can’t wait to go back to the beach. Hard: Hammer? It was the first image to pop up in my head. Anne: Harry Styles’ mom is named Anne hahaha the Directioner in me jumped out, sorry not sorry. Cow: There’s this video that went viral a few months ago of a girl who was playing the accordion; all of a sudden this adorable herd of like 15 cows come running up to her and just intently watch the kid. Wholesome af. Frog: Frog legs are served in some Philippine provinces. Tastes like chicken. Cheese: My lactose intolerant ass will grate half a block of cheese (exaggeration, but you get the point) for my spaghetti. That’s the only way to enjoy pasta. Bowl: Can’t really think of anything except that bowl cuts look so cute on babies hahaha. Television: Is something I never use nowadays unless I’m staying over at a hotel. Other than that, I cannot tell you the last time I held a TV remote control to change the channel or something. Skull: There’s an episode of Friends where Phoebe brings home a skull and nonchalantly sets it on the table where Monica, Rachel, and Chandler were hanging out. Chandler goes, “Pheebs...skull?” Phoebe says, “Yeah, it’s my mom’s,” and Rachel shrieks until Phoebe clarifies that her mom owned the skull, and that the skull wasn’t of her mom. Underrated segment. Rachel’s mini-meltdown was hilarious. Seasons: I had to watch Rent for film class several months ago. Terrible movie. Cemented my dislike for musicals. This is what I remembered because afaik this is the musical that has the minutes song. Language: I can speak two and can understand some archaic/modern Spanish because they conquered us for 300 years and subsequently ruined my country. Trump: McDonald’s. An international embarrassment. Chocolate: We found this AMAZING Chocnut spread at the mall yesterday. I had my initial doubts - I thought it was gonna taste like a cheap Nutella rip-off. But it tastes exactly like Chocnut, just in the most perfect spread-y form. I plan to finish the entire jar just with a spoon. Stove: I’m terribly afraid of using any and every kitchen equipment because I have a big fear of setting the house on fire. I only ever use the stove when I’m deathly hungry and I have to make something by myself. Toy: My family recently went to a kid’s birthday party that had giveaway bags with toys inside, but seeing as we’re all teenagers now who had no use for it, it was earning dust in the house. Now, the Philippines is abound with street children so when we went out yesterday, my mom gave the bag to a couple of kids who were knocking on our car. I know I’m not supposed to romanticize the situation, but they had the biggest smiles when they realized what they got and I saw them playing merrily at the side of the street and even invited some other kids to join in. Again, not glamorizing it - I’m just happy they were happy. Video: I could never run out of things to watch on YouTube. It’s one of my favorite websites, especially when bouts of depression have to happen. Kiss: It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, IT WAS ONLY A KISS. Glass: The glass section of department stores always creeped me out. One wrong move and you can knock a whole shelf down, and the ‘You break it you pay for it’ signs all over the area don’t help at all. Light: Light and queen come together in this survey and all I remember is Lightning McQueen. Queen: ^ Moon: Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Moon river, wider than a mile, I’m crossing you in style some day. Blue: My organization’s color is blue, so I have a soft spot for blue. Cream: I like soups that are creamy. I say this because my sister had ramen yesterday and it was so oily and salty and fatty and creamy and ugh I loved it. Dead: The Misfits. They’re more horror than death, but still. Purple: My great-grandma loved the color purple and I remember when her house used to be peppered in purple stuff. All her dresses were purple. I’m fairly sure it was the reason why it was my favorite color as a kid. Lace: Underwear, hahaha. Cardboard: Gabie was munching on sunflower seeds when I picked her up last week. I’ve never tried those, so I asked for some and I said it tasted like cardboard. I’ve never eaten cardboard but I would imagine that that’s what it tastes like. Elephant: Majestic. Deserves to be saved and properly cared for. Harry: One of my fave members of the royal family. He’s so precious. Leather: Is bad. Paisley: Isn’t there a country singer with this name? Italy: Pasta and stuff. Joey Tribbiani. Immature: I saw the gun girl Kaitlin-something on Twitter because she got viral again for a dumb-ass tweet she made. She posted pics of herself in the snow and tweeted “Look at all this global warming,” like seriously America??? Wtf do they teach y’all in your schools?????? Crime: Raisins in cookies. Angel: I had a friend named Angel - talked about her a lot in old surveys. She migrated to Canada when we were 12 and I haven’t seen her since. We do follow each other on Twitter but all she tweets about is K-pop so I had to put her on mute. Great memories with her. Boil: When I read this tweet aloud in my head, what I did think of was Charles Boyle from B99. Key: Key lime pie. Never tried it, but I’m always down to try anything. Sacrifice: The Catholic schoolgirl in me remembers the crucifixion because textbooks and teachers would overuse the phrase, “Jesus sacrificed his life for our sins” or “God sacrificed his son to save the world,” and all those cheesy lines. It’s as though the Bible’s favorite word is ‘sacrifice.’ Larry: Punk and AJ’s dog is named Larry Talbot. Dog: ^ Psychology: I took one psych elective last semester, but the prof was average at best so it didn’t really win over the course as a whole to me. Psychology was one of my ‘what-if’ courses so at the start, I was excited about taking it - but the class that I had was just so boring and the prof gave tests that were way too hard for otherwise fairly easy topics, so I quickly ran out of enthusiasm for the class. Rag: I hate touching rags. Especially wet ones UGH. Sun: Hate it, unless I’m at the beach. Lips: My friends dragged me to the makeup section of the department store last week and there were rows upon rows of lipstick testers. As someone who’s never purposely browsed for makeup, I ended up swatching like 20 shades on my wrist and looked like a five year old who doodled all over her whole left arm. Cage: The UFC ring, because it looks like a cage. Alarm: I had/have several alarms set on my phone throughout today to tell me to start working on various deliverables. For example, I had an 8 AM alarm to work on my J 196 paper; then from 8:30 AM I had an alarm to compose letters that I needed to write as my org’s secretary; then at around 10 AM, my alarm was for finishing up my readings for Kas 154 (short for kasaysayan, which means history). Official: I have a batchmate from high school who just got engaged...she was honestly one of the weirder ones back then so as much as I didn’t want to judge, it was hard to take it seriously at first, but it’s whatevs. I have no business in her life and I’m happy she’s happy. King: I finished my history readings this morning and there were so many mentions of kings. Lost: That show. The general consensus is that they ended the show crappily, but other than that I know nothing about it. Dating: There was once a dude who joined a dating show. Ended up being a serial killer. I forgot his name though. Balm: I was at a Korean store yesterday and saw an array of lip balms and glosses. I was never much of a makeup girl but the collection they had was just so cute, it made me think if I should start investing in makeup as well hah. Tomato: Ketchup is my second least favorite condiment after mustard. Game: Hmmm I downloaded a bunch of new game apps on my phone because I recently realized that I’m so boring??? and I only have social media on my phone??? I got ten new apps to make my phone more alive haha. Lotion: Is slimy, but smells nice and makes my skin smooth and look better. I got two hand creams for Christmas last year and it was then that I knew I was getting older because I was genuinely excited to try them both out. Expensive: Everything is. Powder: Reminds me of babies. The smell calms me down so well. Cross: I was shopping for clip-on earrings yesterday and there were several designs with crosses on them, which just reminded me of Christianity and it kinda peeved me for like 3 minutes lol. History: My favorite subject. I’ve never been so excited to be dumped on with such a thick stack of readings until this semester. Sex: Haven’t had it in a bit, too busy. Rainbow: We watched a film called Rainbow’s Sunset, which was really promising because it told a story about two men, both very old, and are lovers. In a traditional, conservative, poisonously Catholic country such as the PH, it’s a very bold move to produce a feature film that tackled such a horrible, taboo, horrifying thing (please note the sarcasm/mockery). We didn’t escape the guffaws and the loud ew’s whenever the two leads would kiss, which was sad.

Anyway that’s not my point and what I really want to say is that the film was ultimately terrible, it was terribly-executed and it portrayed gay men in such a cheesy manner which in the long run, probably contributes to the continuing negative image of LGBT people in the Philippines. Gab, the bigger film buff between the two of us, felt so offended by how bad the movie turned out to be lol. Bay: Bayley, from WWE. She was a huge star like 3 years ago, but I think the bookers ultimately fucked her character up and now she’s stale. I feel so bad. Seth: Seth Rollins, also from WWE. Also very attractive. Pepper: I had okonomiyaki for lunch yesterday and there was like a thicker chunk of pepper that made it to my plate. Didn’t particularly enjoy that bite. Necrophile: Katie Vick. Google it to believe it. Wrestling is fucking dumb. Gravel: Funnily enough I do have a memory for gravel. Akeelah and the Bee was one of my favorite movies growing up; I watched it so many times that I had chunks of dialogue memorized at one point. One of the first scenes had Akeelah joining her school’s spelling bee, and one of the kids spelled grovel as g-r-a-v-e-l. He couldn’t understand why he got it wrong so the judge had to tell him that the word ‘grovel’ actually exists and what it means. Deep: I had a mental picture of the ocean when I read this word, so there’s that. Stephen: Hawking. Bucket: Chum Bucket. Hahaha Spongebob forever. England: Rugby? Grown: I always use the term ‘grown-ass’ haha. Spell: Spelling was one of my favorite activities in grade school and I would always score the highest in spelling exams. Kind of led me to my favorite job of proofreading/copyediting, really. Bark: My dog barked at nothing for five whole minutes a couple of days ago and it was hilarious. I shot two minutes of it. Long: Trees? Fan: Pamaypay, or hand fans in English.

Australia: First things that came to mind were the Sydney Opera House and Vegemite. Iron: Gabie’s nose bled last week. It wouldn’t stop flowing out of her nostrils and it smelled like rust for a good 15 minutes while she was trying to wash all the blood off, so it didn’t exactly help my case as someone who’s squeamish to death at the sight of blood. Melt: Chocolate. Beanie: Too warm for this country’s climate. Wax: Candles. Vigils. Burning your finger. Staying up all night to pray. Catholic school. Disease: Zombies. Resident Evil. Cannibal: The band Cannibal Corpse. Tried to get into them because Punk listened to them but it was too heavy for me. Flight: Airplanes, flights, vacations, away from everyone, nothing to worry about, good food, fighting with my siblings for the window seats. Porn: People be having weird fetishes sometimes. The thumbnails I see on websites...some of y’all crazy. Pot: I thought about how college life is so crazy. People would sell brownies or cookies with weed in them IN SCHOOL, meanwhile I still don’t even know if weed and pot are the same or if they’re two different things ohmygod HAHAHAHA I’m so sheltered wow I’m hopeless?????? Style: Taylor Swift and that subtle shade to Harry. People were shookened five years ago. Floss: Pork floss is really good. Star: There was a local celebrity who recently tweeted a pic, supposedly of a tiny tiny star that was beside the moon at like 5 AM, and she was asking what it was. Someone replied that it was Venus and explained what she just saw for her. Super cool. Nate: I don’t know anyone named Nate. I DID, however, remember the Naked Brothers Band. The older brother is named Nat, so it’s close enough. Soft: Pillows are soft. Orange: Hayley Williams’ hair 11 years ago. Witch: Philippine superstitions and how crazy and obsessive Filipinos can get. My mom, one of the most rational, no-nonsense people I know, scolds me every time I mock witchcraft or what we call ‘kulam’ cos she believes something will happen to me if I do. I’m all for honoring our mythology and traditions but sheesh, not to the obsessive extent. Mound: Ants. Root: Gabie used to watch this show where she shipped two girls named Root and Shaw. Oil: Massages. Hot: Deserts. Disc: Childhood, blowing on it to make it work, double-sided discs for longer movies, if a disc had scratches expect it to die soon. Soil: Plants. Planting trees. Muddy. Ugly: That scene in Spongebo where Patrick tells the story of the ugly barnacle. “Once there was an ugly barnacle. He was so ugly that everyone died. The end,” which didn’t help Spongebob who at the time was feeling super ugly hahahahaha. Sugar: Maroon 5. Also, my grandma used one particular jar for sugar throughout my entire childhood. It’s plastic, it’s clear, and it came with a red-orange lid. I’d often eat sugar on its own so I saw that jar quite a bit and it gives me a sense of nostalgia. I’m not so sure if that’s still the jar being used in the old house. Bone: Ribs :( Been craving for some. Sigh: Air??? I don’t know. Throne: Game of Thrones. I had to watch a 26-minute documentary of a GoT production for my broadcast management class. It’s insanely hard. So much respect to everyone involved in its prod. Calendar: I’m secretary for my org, which means that I always have to update everyone about our calendar of events. Carpet: Fancy. Flesh: The Walking Dead. Cement: Dangerous. Vow: The movie with Rachel McAdams and Channing Tatum. One of my guiltier pleasures. Sweet: Desserts. And now I’m hungry.

#survey #surveys #lengthy but a goodie

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