#Rolling Stones Schoolboy Blues

[fleetwood-rendezvous]

Favorite Rolling Stones song: Lonesome Schoolboy (aka Cocksucker Blues)

[thesandsofelsweyr]

What do you think are some songs in AK's playlist? Does he have highly curated playlists for specific moods? When does he listen to the songs if he does?

I think he's got quite an eclectic music taste. Megan Thee Stallion, Björk, Radiohead, Pink Floyd, NIN, Lana Del Rey, Frank Sinatra, David Bowie, Deftones, Rolling Stones, The Weeknd, Kid Cudi, Johnny Cash, etc. He's a big fan of Spotify's Discover Weekly since it introduces him to lesser known artists, but that's about the only playlist he listens to besides his Liked Songs playlist, which he'll put on shuffle every now and then.

A few of his latest likes:

Busted and Blue - Gorillaz

Cobra - Megan Thee Stallion

Bachelorette - Björk

Jim Jones - SKYND

We Appreciate Power - Grimes

Feathers - Kidneythieves

Without - The Soft Moon

Dissolved Girl - Massive Attack

Dangerous - ScHoolboy Q, Kid Cudi

Last I Heard - Thom Yorke

(more music in my #songs for ak jay tag!)

[lightofraye]

Sophie B. Hawkins - Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover

That old dog has chained you up all right Give you everything you need To live inside a twisted cage Sleep beside an empty rage I had a dream I was your hero Damn I wish I was your lover I'd rock you till the daylight comes Make sure you are smiling and warm I am everything Tonight I'll be your mother I'll do such things to ease your pain Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed Ohhhh Ohhhh This monkey can't stand to see you black and blue I give you something sweet each time you Come inside my jungle book What is it just too good Don't say you'll stay 'Cause then you go away

Damn I wish I was your lover I'll rock you till the daylight comes Make sure you are smiling and warm I am everything Tonight I'll be your mother I'll do such things to ease your pain Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed Shucks For me there is no other You're the only shoe that fits I can't imagine I'll grow out of it Damn I wish I was your lover If I was your girl believe me I'd turn on the Rolling Stones We could groove along and feel much better Let me in I could do it forever and ever and ever and ever Give me an hour to kiss you Walk through heaven's door I'm sure We don't need no doctor to feel much better Let me in Forever and ever and ever and ever I sat on the mountainside with peace of mind I lay by the ocean making love to her with visions clear Walked for days with no one near And I return as chained and bound to you Damn I wish I was your lover I'll rock you till the daylight comes Make sure you are smiling and warm I am everything Tonight I'll be your mother I'll do such things to ease your pain Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed Shucks For me there is no other You're the only shoe that fits I can't imagine I'll grow out of it Damn I wish I was your lover Open up, I wanna gonna come inside I wanna fill you up, I wanna make you cry Damn I wish I was your lover Gettin' on a subway And I'm comin' uptown Damn I wish I was your lover Standin' on a street corner Waitin' for my luck to change Damn I wish I was your lover Feelin' like a schoolboy Too shy and too young, ohh Damn I wish I was your lover Open up, I wanna gonna come inside I wanna fill you up, I wanna make you cry Damn I wish I was your lover Gettin' on my camel Gonna ride it uptown, oooh Damn I wish I was your lover Hangin' around this jungle

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: March 31, 1992

Lyrics:

That old dog has chained you up alright

Give you everything you need

To live inside a twisted cage

Sleep beside an empty rage

I had a dream, I was your hero

Damn, I wish I was your lover

I'll rock you 'til the daylight comes

Make sure you are smilin' and warm

I am everything, tonight I'll be your mother

I'll do such things to ease your pain

Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed, oh, oh

Open up on the inside, gonna fill you up, gonna make you cry

This monkey can't stand to see you black and blue

I give you somethin' sweet each time

You come inside my jungle book

What, is it just too good?

Don't say you'll stay 'cause then you'll go away

Damn, I wish I was your lover

I'll rock you 'til the daylight comes

Make sure you are smilin' and warm

I am everything, tonight I'll be your mother

I'll do such things to ease your pain

Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed

Shucks, for me there is no other

You're the only shoe that fits

I can't imagine I'll grow out of it

Damn, I wish I was your lover, yeah

If I was your girl believe me

I'd turn on the Rolling Stones

We could groove along and feel much better

Let me in

I could do it forever and ever and ever and ever

Give me an hour to kiss you

Walk through Heaven's door I'm sure

We don't need no doctor to feel much better

Let me in

Forever and ever and ever and ever

I sat on a mountainside with peace of mind

And I lay by the ocean

Makin' love to her with visions clear

Walked the days with no one near

And I return as chained and bound to you

Damn, I wish I was your lover

I'll rock you 'til the daylight comes

Make sure you are smilin' and warm

I am everything, tonight I'll be your mother

I'll do such things to ease your pain

Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed

Shucks, for me there is no other

You're the only shoe that fits

I can't imagine I'll grow out of it

Damn, I wish I was your lover

I wanna open up, I wanna come inside

I wanna fill you up, I wanna make you cry

(Damn, I wish I was your lover)

Gettin' on the subway and I'm comin' uptown

(Damn, I wish I was your lover)

Standin' on a street corner, waitin' for my love to change

(Damn, I wish I was your lover)

Songwriter: Sophie B. Hawkins

Feelin' like a schoolboy, too shy and too young

(Damn, I wish I was your lover)

Open up, I wanna come inside

I wanna fill you up, I wanna make you cry

(Damn, I wish I was your lover)

Gettin' on my camel and I'll ride it uptown, ooh

(Damn, I wish I was your lover)

Hanging around this jungle, wishing that this

SongFacts:

👉📖

[liquidgirl13]

Sophie B. Hawkins

💖 Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover💖

Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover

That old dog has chained you up alright

Give you everything you need

To live inside a twisted cage

Sleep beside an empty rage

I had a dream, I was your hero

Damn, I wish I was your lover

I'll rock you 'til the daylight comes

Make sure you are smilin' and warm

I am everything, tonight I'll be your mother

I'll do such things to ease your pain

Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed, oh, oh

Open up on the inside, gonna fill you up, gonna make you cry

This monkey can't stand to see you black and blue

I give you somethin' sweet each time

You come inside my jungle book

What, is it just too good?

Don't say you'll stay 'cause then you'll go away

Damn, I wish I was your lover

I'll rock you 'til the daylight comes

Make sure you are smilin' and warm

I am everything, tonight I'll be your mother

I'll do such things to ease your pain

Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed

Shucks, for me there is no other

You're the only shoe that fits

I can't imagine I'll grow out of it

Damn, I wish I was your lover, yeah

If I was your girl believe me

I'd turn on the Rolling Stones

We could groove along and feel much better

Let me in

I could do it forever and ever and ever and ever

Give me an hour to kiss you

Walk through Heaven's door I'm sure

We don't need no doctor to feel much better

Let me in

Forever and ever and ever and ever

I sat on a mountainside with peace of mind

And I lay by the ocean

Makin' love to her with visions clear

Walked the days with no one near

And I return as chained and bound to you

Damn, I wish I was your lover

I'll rock you 'til the daylight comes

Make sure you are smilin' and warm

I am everything, tonight I'll be your mother

I'll do such things to ease your pain

Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed

Shucks, for me there is no other

You're the only shoe that fits

I can't imagine I'll grow out of it

Damn, I wish I was your lover

I wanna open up, I wanna come inside

I wanna fill you up, I wanna make you cry

(Damn, I wish I was your lover)

Gettin' on the subway and I'm comin' uptown

(Damn, I wish I was your lover)

Standin' on a street corner, waitin' for my love to change

(Damn, I wish I was your lover)

Feelin' like a schoolboy, too shy and too young

(Damn, I wish I was your lover)

Open up, I wanna come inside

I wanna fill you up, I wanna make you cry

(Damn, I wish I was your lover)

Gettin' on my camel and I'll ride it uptown, ooh

(Damn, I wish I was your lover)

Hanging around this jungle, wishing that this

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Sophie B. Hawkins

Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover lyrics © Emerald Forest Entertainment

[ngdrb]

Greatest rock guitar duos

The world of rock music has been significantly shaped by the contributions of legendary guitar duos. These dynamic pairs have not only revolutionized the genre with their exceptional skills but also created timeless music that continues to inspire generations. This article delves into the greatest rock duo guitarists, exploring their unique styles, groundbreaking techniques, and the indelible impact they have left on the rock music landscape. By examining the synergy between these guitarists, we aim to understand how their collaborations have redefined the boundaries of rock music and solidified their places in music history.

Keith Richards & Brian Jones (The Rolling Stones): Keith Richards and Brian Jones were the driving force behind The Rolling Stones during their early years. Brian Jones, with his innovative slide guitar work, added a bluesy edge to the band’s sound. However, tensions arose, and Keith Richards eventually took over as the primary guitarist. Their dynamic chemistry shaped the Stones’ iconic hits, and even though Jones tragically passed away in 1969, their legacy endures .

Joe Perry & Brad Whitford (Aerosmith): Joe Perry and Brad Whitford formed a formidable guitar duo in Aerosmith. Perry’s fiery solos and Whitford’s rhythmic prowess blended seamlessly, creating the band’s signature sound. Their collaboration produced timeless hits like “Dream On,” “Walk This Way,” and “Sweet Emotion”.

Angus & Malcolm Young (AC/DC): Angus Young’s electrifying lead guitar work paired perfectly with Malcolm Young’s solid rhythm playing. Together, they defined AC/DC’s raw, high-energy rock sound. Malcolm’s songwriting and Angus’s iconic schoolboy persona made them an unforgettable duo.

James Hetfield & Kirk Hammett (Metallica): James Hetfield’s powerful rhythm guitar and Kirk Hammett’s melodic lead lines propelled Metallica to metal superstardom. Their synergy on tracks like “Enter Sandman,” “Master of Puppets,” and “One” solidified their place in rock history.

Dickey Betts & Duane Allman (The Allman Brothers Band): Dickey Betts and Duane Allman pioneered twin guitar harmonies, revolutionizing rock music. Their intricate interplay, showcased in songs like “Jessica” and “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed,” remains influential to this day.

Dickie Betts & Warren Haynes (The Allman Brothers Band): After Duane Allman’s tragic death, Dickie Betts continued to shine alongside Warren Haynes. Their soulful, blues-infused guitar work carried on the Allman Brothers’ legacy.

Slash & Izzy Stradlin (Guns N’ Roses): Slash’s iconic lead guitar solos and Izzy Stradlin’s gritty rhythm guitar defined Guns N’ Roses’ rebellious sound. Together, they rocked the world with hits like “Sweet Child o’ Mine” and “November Rain.”

Stone Gossard & Mike McCready (Pearl Jam): Stone Gossard’s textured chords and Mike McCready’s emotive solos shaped Pearl Jam’s grunge rock anthems. Their synergy elevated tracks like “Alive” and “Black.”Glenn Tipton & K.K. Downing (Judas Priest): Glenn Tipton and K.K. Downing forged the dual guitar attack that defined Judas Priest’s heavy metal sound. 

10. Glenn Tipton & K.K. Downing (Judas Priest): Glenn Tipton and K.K. Downing forged the dual guitar attack that defined Judas Priest’s heavy metal sound. Their harmonized leads and aggressive riffs influenced countless metal bands.

11. Charlie Hargrett & Jay Johnson (Blackfoot) Charlie Hargrett was a pivotal guitarist in Blackfoot’s classic lineup. Alongside Rickey Medlocke, he contributed to the band’s signature Southern rock sound. Blackfoot embarked on a tour, and Jay Johnson joined as a guitarist and vocalist. Although not part of the classic lineup, Johnson brought his own flair to the band. His guitar work complemented the legacy left by Hargrett and Medlocke. Together, they kept the Blackfoot spirit alive.

12. Gary Rossington & Allen Collins (Lynard Skynard): When it comes to Lynyrd Skynyrd, the guitar duo that stands out prominently is Gary Rossington and Allen Collins. Let’s dive into their legendary partnership:

Gary Rossington:, As a founding member of Lynyrd Skynyrd, Gary Rossington played a pivotal role in shaping the band’s sound. His soulful and expressive guitar work contributed to hits like “Sweet Home Alabama,” “Simple Man,” and “Tuesday’s Gone” . Rossington’s slide guitar solos and melodic riffs became synonymous with the Lynyrd Skynyrd sound. His ability to blend rock, blues, and country elements created a unique sonic landscape.

Allen Collins: Allen Collins was another key guitarist in the band. His partnership with Rossington created a formidable guitar duo that defined Lynyrd Skynyrd’s dual-guitar sound. The intricate interplay between the two guitarists and their harmonized solos became a hallmark of the band’s live performances, captivating audiences with their dynamic and electrifying stage presence Collins co-wrote many of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s beloved hits, including “Free Bird,” “Sweet Home Alabama,” and “Tuesday’s Gone”.

These guitarists not only complemented each other but also elevated Lynyrd Skynyrd’s music to iconic status. Their legacy lives on, inspiring generations of rock enthusiasts.

[spockeye-fierce]

Donovan on Brian and Charlie: "Brian always reminded me of Bert Jansch, a similar character who influenced everybody. Both Brian and Bert were like burning comets with talent so blazing, they were bound to burn out. Brian invented The Rolling Stones, no matter what Mick and Keith say. He was studying jazz, blues, folk and classical when Mick and Keith were still schoolboys. In a way, Brian kind of created the charismatic British rock star. He was the first. But like Jansch, Joplin, Morrison, Hendrix, Moon…they were comets. Nobody before or since has drummed like Keith Moon. In the inner circle, everybody knows what Brian did. That he played so many instruments was very telling of the talent of this man…but he was more than that. He was a visionary. He knew it had to be theatrical. He knew about bohemia and he knew all about jazz. This is why he loved Charlie Watts so much. Charlie’s a jazz drummer. Just like all of my drummers have been jazz drummers. Brian played jazz saxophone. He played all the instruments really. But you’re not to worry about Brian’s place in history. The old blues legends all loved the fact that Brian brought the slide guitar back into play. Howlin’ Wolf especially."

[buckysgoldenheart]

Hideout

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: You have an actor friend, Jack (no specific actor), who often visits you when he needs a place to stay, but this time he brought his friend, Henry. Henry feels an instant attraction that has him struggling to be himself, and yet he’s determined to figure out what could be between you if you both gave it a shot.

Words: 3912

Warnings/notes: I’ll get back to angsty stuff next week. I’m sure cursing. Allusions to smut. That might be it, really, folks. This is just kinda something that came about for no good reason. You know that feeling when you think something is highly questionable in quality, but it’s completed and so you feel the curiosity to post it? Well, here we are. Poorly proofread.

Hideout

Henry winced at how loudly Jack’s fist banged against the Robin’s Egg Blue door—one of many identical ones along the long stretch of hallway—knowing it, without a doubt, could be disruptive enough to wake even the deepest of sleepers. And the last thing they needed was exhausted, angry people jerking doors open with curses on their lips, or those people freaking out and becoming starstruck the moment they saw who was causing the irritation.

“Are you sure she’ll be up this late,” Henry asked, doing his best to whisper.

“Oh, yea,” Jack said. “She never sleeps.”

They waited, somewhat patiently, for any sign of life behind the door in front of them, but it never came, and so Jack assaulted it with his fist again before putting his ear flush against the wood.  

“Tv is on,” he mumbled, then he stepped back, ready to start the pounding again—surely enough this time to wake the dead and send them on the hunt. But then the door pulled back, and Henry’s eyes widened at the sight before him; the last thing he thought he would see when Jack had described the secret hideout he had acquired over the last year and a half.

You stood there with a confused brow that settled at the sight of Jack, and you smiled. The easy curve of your lips and spark it brought to your eyes, caused Henry’s breath to hitch; and he feared you and Jack heard it until he realized you were too distracted by each other to bother. Jack said something about pants, and for the first time Henry looked down, his eyes slowly—almost in an objectifying way, he was ashamed to admit—followed the curves of your body from beautiful face to breasts, then hips, then thighs, and his face instantly flushed like a schoolboy. Your flesh—all smoothness and softness and grabbable--was bare below the hem of your Rolling Stones t-shirt, it hardly keeping you decent. An inch at most was all that kept Henry from seeing what he now found himself desperate to touch. Everything about you, the instant, uncontrollable attraction, made him wish Jack were gone so it was just you and him, with you trapped between his body and the door, mouths attacking one another, and his hand between your legs.

You rolled your eyes at Jack and it drew Henry back from his thoughts. “Well, you were banging so hard on the door I thought someone on the other side might be dying. I didn’t have time to put pants on.”

“We can see that,” Jack said, and though Henry couldn’t see, he knew there was a smirk on his friend’s face. The same smirk he often directed at pretty girls. Usually, it made them drop their panties for him, but you seemed to be immune, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow instead.

Jack spoke more, but the blood pumping in his ears kept Henry from focusing on what it was; or frankly, caring what it was. All he cared about was that you opened the door wider for Jack to walk through, who turned his head back to Henry in request to follow.

You stood to the side, your back holding the door open so they could walk through, and for the first time, you graced Henry with a look. Y/E/C eyes widened the way his had only minutes before, and he realized that it was the first time you were noticing him at all. Plump lips parted deliciously and the need to bite and suck on the bottom one returned; then he snapped himself out of it, broke your eye contact, finally took a proper breath, and passed the threshold into your apartment.

Jack was already reclined on the couch in your small living room, dress shoes chucked to the side, feet up and resting in the ottoman as he watched the TV. From behind Henry, you chuckled and asked, “Would you like a bowl of chips, sir?”

Jack’s ears perked and he sat up quick with the enthusiasm of a small child. “You have doritos?”

“Stocked up yesterday.”

“Like you knew I was coming,” he said. He settled back into his seat, but then his brow furrowed and he shot out of his spot, stomping towards you as you tore open the bag of chips. “Hey lady, we talked about you needing to look through the peephole before you open the door, which I have just realized you clearly did not.”

“Yea, yea, I know.”

“And at this hour? We could have been murderers!”

Henry laughed as you playfully shoved the bowl at Jack’s stomach, forcing him to grab it before it could drop and spill its contents all over the tiled flooring. “Why didn’t you just use the spare key?”

“TV was on. Thought we’d knock out of respect.” He tilted his head. “Plus, I lost the key. Anyway…you know Henry, right? From, like, the movie theater and stuff.”

You looked back and forth between the actors, but when you paused to give closer examination to the features of Henry’s face, his breath left him once again. Eyes lingered on his lips and you nibbled the side of your lower one. Jack continued to ramble and didn’t seem to notice, but then you blinked a few times and turned your attention back him.

“I’m going to go put some leggings on,” you said, and Jack nodded.

“Good idea.” Then he headed back over to the couch and plopped down again, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth.

“I’ll get your bag, too.”

“Thanks, love,” he said as Henry eased closer to the armchair by the couch. Jack stopped chewing when he noticed his friend’s awkward stance. “Sit, man. It’s all good.”

Henry did as he was told, slowly bending at the knees until he met the edge of the chair. He shifted uncomfortably. “So, uh…what bag?”

“Clothes.”

You were back a moment later, dragging a giant, green duffel behind you. Then you picked it up and tossed it Jack’s way so fast he had to quickly set the bowl down to catch it. You snickered at the frown he gave you. “Go change, nerd.”

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

Henry looked at Jack in a way that made the latter scrunch his eyebrows at the scrutiny. “What,” he asked, pulling a black t-shirt over his head and running his fingers through his hair to straighten it back out.

“You failed to mention the owner of your secret hideout looks like that.”

“Oh, yea,” Jack lips quirked as he handed Henry a shirt, “pretty, huh?”

“Beautiful,” he said, slipping into the white tee and extra grey sweatpants. “How did you meet her?”

“Accidentally. There’s a small coffee shop across the street. I spilled my coffee on her, she ran back here to change, I bought her a new one, and we talked for a while.

“We texted a lot for the next couple weeks and one day I was in the neighborhood, getting hunted by paparazzi, so I called her to see if I could hang out at her place until they got bored and left. We’ve just had this agreement since then.”

A lump formed in Henry’s throat at the sudden image of your mouth on Jack’s, your bodies intertwined, but he tamped it down, cursing himself for the flash of jealousy he shouldn’t have felt for a woman he hadn’t even officially met. “So, you and her…”

“No,” Jack shook his head with a chuckle, and relief flooded Henry at how quickly his suspicions were tossed aside. “I mean, yes, she is beautiful, and once, I may have had a sex dream and she may have been in it, but that was a while ago.” He shrugged. “Honestly, she turned into a great friend. When we met, I was just fascinated she didn’t freak out over the whole actor thing.”

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

You were flicking through the channels on the TV with your legs tucked under you when they came back into the room, and you didn’t spare them a glance when you said, “So, what was the problem this time?”

“Crazy paps and fans after the party, you know, same old.” Jack walked into your kitchen, opened the fridge to dig around, and returned with three beers, one of which he gave to Henry, the other to you after he popped open the cap. You hummed in thanks as Jack sat and threw and arm over your shoulders, but then your gaze flicked to Henry. Jack didn’t miss it and rolled his eyes at Henry’s standoffishness. “Would you just sit down?”

And once again, Henry did what he was told; still awkward while he sipped his beer and did his very best not to leer at you like a damn creep. But you seemed so unique, so indifferent to fame or status; special—that’s the vibe he couldn’t separate you from. It was the energy you gave that made Henry’s brain fuzz and palms sweat. Random women coming on to him everywhere he went he had grown used to, but none of those women could take him down with a single glance.

“Do you guys want to share the bed? It’s big enough, and I doubt you both can fit on my couch.”

Jack waved the thought away. “Nah, sweetness, I’ll take the floor.”

“Ok, I—”

“Keep your comfy, oversized bed that could easily sleep four if the situation called for it. I’ll be fine on the cold, bare, hardwood fl—”

“Jesus,” you mumbled. Henry laughed and you smiled back at him, causing his pulse to stutter and his cock to twitch in his sweatpants. “Take the bed, Jack. I sleep better on the couch anyway.”

“Oh, what an angel.” he gave a dramatic sigh before he placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

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

You clicked off the TV when the credits began to roll from the movie the three of you had decided to watch, and turned to Jack, passed out cold. Standing, you snorted and shook your head. “Well, he’s out,” you said before you looked at Henry. He thought he saw a rosy shade bloom on your cheeks but in the darkness of your living room it was hard to guarantee. “You can, um…” you shook your head to yourself again, “I’m just going to put this bowl away.”

Henry nodded, cursing himself for staying quiet once again. He’d never been this quiet in his life, and he was starting to understand that it might come off like he was uninterested in you, or pissed that he even had to come stay with you in the first place. And that was the last thing he wanted.

He had watched you out of the corner of his eye, occasionally stealing little glimpses, during the entirety of the film. The little expressions you’d make, the giggles, the smiles, the crying at the right time at the saddest part of the movie--it all stole his heart—stupidly so, he reminded himself. What idiot loses his senses over a woman he had barely spoken a word to, if any words at all. He recalled saying something along the lines of ‘no, thank you’ when you offered him a snack, but despite hoping it sounded like he had a shred of confidence in his whole body, it more likely came off as a dismissive mumble.

He stood and sighed and ran a hand through his hair before he walked over to the large, uncovered window leading out to your balcony on the other side of the room. The apartment building was technically out of the city, and its skyline lit up in the distance. Your place was an oasis for him. A separation from a part of his life he sometimes felt he could stand to do without for a month or two.

“Do you want to go out,” you asked, and Henry flinched. He hadn’t heard you come up behind him, but then he tried to process your question. ‘Go out’ is all you had to say, and his mind immediately jumped to a date. He’d do better if he took you out on a date. If he knew going into it that you were beautiful and smart and funny, rather than stumbling upon the discoveries by accident through Jack, he’d be able to talk to you like a normal man.

When he didn’t respond, you moved to open the doors and looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. Henry cleared his throat and finally decided to speak, but it came out…wrong. “Will you be coming with me,” he asked, and then instantly regretted it. Too flirty in his tone. Still less than ten words he’d spoken to you and now sixty-six percent of those words you might have interpreted as too forward.

You shrugged. “Sure.”

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

You didn’t seem to know what to say, either. You couldn’t quite keep still, and neither of you looked each other as you stood in what Henry thought would be absolute silence for the duration of the night.

“So…” you began, and an uneasy exhale escaped passed Henry’s lips. “Did you have fun?”

Henry finally met your Y/E/C eyes, peering up at him like an angel in the dark. “Yea, I don’t normally get to relax and watch movies, so its’ definitely been a better night than I’ve had in a while.”

“I meant the party.”

His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach as embarrassment swallowed him whole. Of course you meant the party. “Oh…yea…yes, they’re fun, but it’d be nice if I had someone to take with me.” His eyes shut and he blew out a breath. Flirty again.

“What, Jack isn’t the date you imagined?” You chuckled.

“Hardly.”

“No girlfriend?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

You hummed and turned your line of sight back to the city. At your question, Henry began to feel a little bolder. If you were going to ask, why couldn’t he?

“Do you have someone?”

“No.”

Immediate relief. A tingle down his spine. A hefty beat in his chest from his heart. “That seems hard to believe.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” he couldn’t stop himself from saying. And that was it, he was just going to die and melt into a puddle on the floor like that evil witch from The Wizard of Oz. That’s what he deserved now. He needed to learn to think over the words before they came out; figure out what, when put together to form a statement, they sounded like. Too fucking flirty, that’s what.

“Well…you’re extremely hot and you don’t have a girlfriend, so you’re one to talk.”

His head whipped in your direction; lips parted in shock. He expected you to laugh, make it a joke, say that you’re just kidding to try and lighten the tension that was clouded around you. But you didn’t laugh. You didn’t turn his way. You didn’t even give him a quick look, only providing the profile of your face. Henry’s eyes honed in on your throat, on the large swallow you took, before he continued to trail down to your breasts that rose and fell with heavy breaths. You were just as nervous in his presence as he was in yours.

“Y/N,” he whispered, lightly cupping your opposite cheek and turning your face towards him. Your eyes widened like a doe, but they never left his. And he suddenly didn’t know what he could say. Your words had given him brief confidence but the look on your face attempted to steal it back, so before he let it leave him completely, he leaned down and carefully inched his lips closer to yours. You didn’t pull away, and your sweet gasp burned the blood flowing through Henry’s veins.

“What are you guys still doing up?”

You both jerked away from each other, nearly falling on your asses, with pounding hearts and labored breaths. Jack lingered in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes like a small child woken too early, and Henry could tell that he didn’t see the two of you; your bodies so close, lips nearly melding together. Certainly, he’d have had something to say about it. Whether he’d be pissed or supportive, though, was something Henry couldn’t begin to guess.

You recovered quicker than Henry, walking towards Jack with soft words. “Go back to sleep, nerd. Come on, I’ll tuck you in.” And you let out a huff of a laugh.

“See, this is why I love you,” he mumbled, and you led him towards your bedroom, not even giving a peek back at Henry.

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

Your face hadn’t left his mind for a week. Dreams of you being near him, kissing him, teasing him, of you crawling on top of him as he reclines in bed with your breasts practically spilling out of your bra, carried into his mornings and throughout the rest of his days. You tortured him without him even really having felt your touch, and this was exactly what he feared when he and Jack left your place the next day; that he wouldn’t be able to let go of you without knowing for sure what would come of finishing what you both started the night before. And so he found himself in front of your door, staring hard at it as if it would open on its own.

Henry ran a hand down his face and groaned. “God, what am I doing?” It was stupid, maybe, but he was going to do it, even if only once. So, he knocked, and waited, and the door swung open a minute later.

Seeing you set his whole body on fire. His name fell from your mouth in a breathy whisper, and it was all he needed. He stepped forward, never breaking your stare, placed his hands on the sides of your face, and slammed his lips to yours.

Your arms didn’t hesitate to wrap around his neck, pulling him with you as you stepped back into your apartment. Henry kicked the door shut, then bent to pick you up and set you down on the dining room table, the kiss never breaking until he said, “You want this?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want this.”

His eyes prodded yours, searching for any uncertainty, but he found none. “Ok,” he whispered, then spread your thighs with rough hands so he could better stand between them and connected your lips again.

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

He wouldn’t let go of your hand; not when you were riding him, not when you collapsed on top of him after making each other cum, and not when you eased yourself over to cuddle into his side. No matter what, he found a way to keep your hands entwined.  

“It’s clear I like you, right?”

You snorted. “You’re asking that now?”

“Yes.”

You giggled and untangled your fingers. He was reluctant to let you go, his own fingers struggling to loosen their grip as he felt his anxiety spike at the thought you were about to reject him. But then you threw that arm over his waist and squeezed him to you with a kiss to his pec.

“Does that mean you like me as well? Because you almost kissed me the other night, too.”

“I know…dork,�� you muttered.

He lifted his head to meet your eyes, brows dipped down in the middle. “Dork? So Jack is a nerd and I’m the dork?”

“Yes.”

“But I am a geeky nerd and Jack is a dork,” he said a little loudly. You shrugged in response, and he continued, “You know what? Fine.” Then he rose, threw the blanket he had covered you both with off his legs and shifted to get up from the bed.

“Nooo,” you whined as you grabbed onto his thick wrist with both hands. In his pause, you sat up, crawled around to the front of his body and straddled his hips so you were chest to chest. “No leaving.”

His arms wrapped around you, and he laughed. Your jaw dropped slightly at the sound, and you swatted at his shoulder.

“You were kidding?” He only laughed harder. “Well, at least I now know you have a good sense of humor. And here I thought you were overly sensitive.”

“I am overly sensitive. So have mercy on me, beautiful,” he said, then closed the inch to press his lips to yours.

When you pulled back, you placed your index finger in the dimple of his chin before tracing a line over his jaw and down his neck. You watched the path you made the entire time, avoiding Henry’s eyes as best you could. “Are we going to tell Jack?”

“We’ll have to eventually.”

You still hadn’t looked at him so he tilted your chin up. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you swallow. “It’s just…if you’re wanting to tell him eventually that means this isn’t a secret?”

His head jerked back and he blinked as if he had been slapped. “No. Never. Look, sweetheart, this,” he motioned between your bodies in the little space that he could, “is entirely dependent on what it is that you want. I’ll follow you. If you don’t want me—”

The finger that had traced his jaw moved to his lips to shut him up, and you only removed it to replace it with a quick kiss. “I want to see where it could go.”

Smiling, he leaned his head down into the curve of your neck and pressed small kisses along the column until you couldn’t keep in your little moans. “Then, I have an idea,” he said.

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

It was three months before another late night after party held Jack and Henry over until the earliest hours of the morning. They both thanked that you lived nearby, and as exhaustion started to set in, they snuck out the back of the venue and into a rideshare to take them to your place.

“Are you sure she’s awake,” Henry asked, and Jack gave a little snort as he raised his fist to knock.

“Didn’t you learn anything the last time?”

“Sure. But you never call ahead.”

“It’s more fun this way.”

More fun, Henry thought. For himself, it would be.

The door opened a crack, and they could see your Y/E/C eyes peek through the small sliver of space before whipping it wide enough they could see your whole body. Henry had spent those months with you. Any free time was yours, completely. But seeing you in front of him now brought about the same feelings he’d had when he saw you the first time.

“Hi, fellas.”

“Hi, darlin’,” Jack bent at the waist to kiss your cheek and walked past you. “You coming, Hen?”

“Absolutely,” he said, then picked you up and held your body to his—your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist—and he kissed you, hard.

Full, long seconds passed before Henry heard, “What the actual fuck!” And you both chuckled into the kiss.

“What? How is—I’m so—this is—”

“Calm down, Jack,” you smiled.

“Well now, how can I? Mr. Cavill here has moved in on my girl.”

You turned your gaze from Jack back to Henry with a grin on your face that he matched. His arms tightened around you and he gave you one more quick peck, nudged his nose against yours, and whispered, “My girl.”

 tags: @agniavateira @tumblnewby @moonlightimagination @forthebrokenheartedthings @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75 @defffcc @the-soot-sprite @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity @harrysthiccthighss @the-problem-of-leisure @amberlokabrenna @a-dlv @writing-about-current-obsessions @petitefirecracker10 @magdelen69 @gitasor @identity2212 @kebabgirl67 @weallhaveadestiny

[delaber]

Could you do like a short piece where Daveed and reader are a thing but not really a couple. And he ruins it by not wanting more but comes back and apologises. Thanks!

Title: Stepping Up

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Note: Thanks anon! First time I’m writing Daveed. This was fun and challenging.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: mentions of sex. Slight angst. I think that’s it but let me know

"U up?"

Two words and a question mark. That was all it took and you felt your heart start pounding in your chest. Your feet started moving around, unable to stay in one place. You had to shred the duvet, you had started sweating. Two words and a fucking question mark and he could make your body betray you. Two words and you were ready for him.

You had to actively remind yourself that you were in withdrawal. That you couldn't hit him back no matter what. That he hadn't treated you the way you deserved. That he was fine and sweet and wonderful - but a dick nonetheless.

Still, it was hard to resist temptation. If you finally allowed yourself to text him back he would be here in a jiffy. You needed it. You missed him. And suddenly everything came rushing back: Daveed's athletic body the first time you'd seen him jump around on stage, his smile as he had introduced himself to you, his teasing manner as he had thrown around millions of jokes to you and the rest of your cast-mates. How you had already fallen for his wicked charms by the end of the first rehearsal. How you had flirted desperately to get him to notice you, and how he had finally pulled you backstage and kissed you in secret. It had all lead to a daring affair between the two of you, Daveed fucking you roughly every day in between rehearsals and later in between shows. His long fingers curling inside you while you moaned his name, the taste of him on your lips, his demanding movements as he took you in various positions all over your dressing room.

And no one could know. Not even Jas or Leslie or Oak. Daveed had made you promise not to tell - that this was your personal thing. You had agreed and said 'of course' right before he had hoisted you up beside the powder room mirror and slid into you. At first, the sneaking around had been nothing but arousing - you one hundred percent condoned it; your only goal back then had been to keep fucking Daveed in your costumes, the blue revolutionary jacket always open against his toned chest, but as the weeks proceeded, you felt yourself wanting more from him.

You wanted to be able to snog him senseless every time you saw him. You wanted to intertwine your fingers with his in public. Treat him to dinner. Take him home. Watch movies on lazy Sundays. Run your hands over his abs in your own bed. Waking up to find him covering your body with kisses.

But Daveed had said no. That he didn't want those things. That he didn't want to engage in anything serious with someone he worked with. That you were just co-workers who helped each other relieve some of the stress that the highly demanding job craved. Nothing more. In other words, you deduced that you were his stress ball - and you got angry! You yelled, and you threatened to kick him out of your dressing room, and you even threw a small lipstick at him, but his chocolate brown eyes were so sweet and so kind that you eventually felt yourself nodding along to his arguments of how the two of you could mess up the entire production if you started dating and things didn't work out. You sighed and you nodded and you agreed with him. And not even ten minutes later had he pulled off your panties, bent you over the couch, and dropped to his knees behind you. A lousy way to make up for it.

You had let it continue like this for eight months until his contract finally ran out and you were no longer co-workers. You had been looking forward to this. On his last night at the theatre, Daveed had stumbled into your dressing room in his Jefferson robe. The door behind him had barely closed before he had ripped your corset open, his warm fingers immediately rolling your nipples they way he knew you liked it. He had pressed his pelvis up against you and whispered in your ear that he had been hard on stage all night, patiently waiting for the show to be over so he could come see you. And you had decided that now was the time; slowly, you had turned around in his arms with a smirk and you had asked him out seeing as you wouldn't be working together anymore. You had thought it was a sure thing. But Daveed had pulled down your pants mumbling "My contract's in effect until tomorrow," right before you had felt his tongue on your skin.

"So what happens if I ask you again tomorrow?" You'd panted as his tongue was joined by his fingers.

"It'll still be a no," he grinned up at you, apparently unaware of your aching heart. He was a good man. If he knew the effect he had on you, he would've either stepped back or stepped up.

"And what happens after tonight?" You'd asked.

"We keep fucking," he had grinned with a content sigh as he spread your legs apart.

That was five weeks ago.

Now you had endured five weeks of Daveed constantly texting you that he was stressed, or hard, or thinking about you. Five weeks of him sending you dirty texts explicitly describing what he wanted to do to you. Five weeks of you ignoring him completely.

And now you were staring at his text consisting of two words and a question mark, contemplating if a small toe-dip into your old addiction was such a catastrophe. You felt your phone buzz in your hand as another text from him ticked in: 'I know you're reading my texts. Please stop ignoring me I miss you.'

You almost choked. In the year you'd known Daveed this was the most sensitive he'd ever gotten with you. You read the second text over and over and over again contemplating what to do; text him back? Call him? Or keep ignoring him?

In the end, you decided to call him up. He needed to be told of. He answered before the fourth ring.

"Hey," he almost whispered.

"Daveed," you let out a sigh, "you can't keep texting me."

"I know. I know I'm sorry," he mumbled, "are you mad at me?"

"Of course I'm not mad at you," you said quietly, "but things can't go on like this."

"I know... Are you in love with me?" He said abruptly but in a soft voice.

You went completely quiet when you felt your heart ache. So he did know about it. He had managed to put two and two together... "it isn't fair of you to ask me that," you almost whispered, "you know I am."

Daveed went quiet too and you could hear his steady breathing on the other end of the phone line. After a couple of seconds he finally said, "can I come over?"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Please. I have to see you. I want to apologise properly," he groaned painfully, "can I please come over?"

Unable to resist him, you breathed a short "yes," and ten minutes later opened the door to him.

"Hey," his face curled up in a smile the minute you came into sight. He stepped closer to you, and pulled you in for a soft hug, "you look cute."

"Yeah, well thanks," you mumbled against his neck. You didn't want to reciprocate his compliment even though he did look awfully cute too.

He followed you to the living room.

"Whiskey?" You asked him.

"Nah, I gotta stay sober for this," he shook his head.

"Sober for what?" You asked quietly.

"I - ehm - I wanted to apologise. Like a man," he looked at you with a firm gaze, "I've been a dick and I've been treating you badly."

"Yeah," you nodded and folded your arms across your chest, "you've been acting like an ass. When did you realise?"

"It's embarrassing for me, but I honestly didn't realise before you started ignoring me. I was so used to having you around me all the time, and suddenly I missed you like crazy," he took a deep breath before he continued, "I was so sexually frustrated that I called a friend back home in California and told him about it all. I thought he would agree with me and call you stone-cold or something like that but instead he called me an idiot. He called me out for the way I've been treating you. He made me realise why you wanted to ask me out. I didn't even realise. I'm very sorry."

"It's okay," you said softly, "I know you didn't mean to."

"Good," Daveed nodded and looked like a schoolboy who'd just been scolded and you suddenly felt bad for him.

"I didn't mean to ignore your texts. After your time was up at the theatre, I wanted to keep seeing you - it was just too rough. I had to back off."

"I'm glad you took care of yourself. It's made me realise some stuff about myself that I want to change. I want to be better."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Let me start by making it up to you," he smiled, "tomorrow's Valentines day. Let me treat you to dinner. Give you the proper date you deserve."

"I'm not going on a date with you just because you're sexually frustrated and you know I'm an easy fuck," you huffed.

"No! Never! But how about going on a date with me because I like you and I want to see where it could go?"

You shot him a look.

"I understand if you don't believe me but in the past couple of weeks I haven't just missed having sex with you. I've really missed... you. The goofing around, the banter, your infectious laughter. I want to treat you to a date. Let me take you out."

You looked at him suspiciously, "romantically?"

"Yes. Rafa was right. I have a crush on you too. Let's see where this goes."

A small smile crept onto your lips, "okay. If you're sure."

"I'm positive," he grinned and pulled you in for a hug, "fuck I've missed you."

@ramp-it-up

[innuendostyles]

Your from the UK right??? Not to make u sad but imagine going to Asda with Ben at 2 in the morning (u only went for some milk) and u end up coming out with almost the entire shop in ur trolley 😂😂 Happens to the best of us

YAY

“We’re only going for milk.” He quietly mumbled as he aimed the keys at the car and pressed the lock button, hearing the sound of the mechanisms working to ensure the car wouldn’t get stolen from the car park. He held his hand out for you to take before he crossed the zebra crossings, giving a silent nod to a car that’d stopped so the two of you could pass.

It was a gentle reminder but also a jest at himself, considering the last time he’d gone to Asda this late, he’d returned home with a new DVD player for your living room, an abundance of on-sale Easter chocolate, and a DIY friendship bracelets set (it was located in the 6 years and over section, but he wouldn’t tell anyone that part.)

The bracelets aforementioned had been tied to your wrists for a month and a half now, yours was a braided black, white and yellow band while his was black, white and red. He somehow matched his outfit, black jogging bottoms, a red Nike hoodie and the best part of all…. socks with sliders. You’d claim that if he wore those out of the house, you’d pretend not to know him, but later decided that it was more endearing than embarrassing. His socks were black with red love hearts printed all over them, some you’d got him for Valentine’s Day as he claimed that “a pair of socks is the best present you could ever buy a man.”

You, on the other hand, wore a pair of black leggings, paired with an extremely worn “Rolling Stones 1979 Tour” acid wash t-shirt. Ben had insisted that you wear one of his jackets, given the fact that your local Asda always seemed to be freezing around this time, so it was topped off with a navy blue Nike Air Max windbreaker. Your fluffy bed socks really pulled the outfit together.

You each had one of Ben’s AirPods in your ear, currently listening to a song by The Lumineers, one that Ben described to you as making him feel as if he was “running down a sandy beach trying to get to you.” His pinky finger slid around your pinky finger as he strayed to the shelter where all the trolleys (shopping carts) were located.

He always pushed the trolley, claiming his driving skills were better than yours, but you knew the only reason he enjoyed pushing them so much was so he could “fly down the aisles”, an act in which he would push the cart extremely fast when there was nobody near you, and lift his feet from the ground, letting the cart take all his weight.

The song ended and changed to a Snoop Dogg song, to which you quirked an eyebrow, asking, “What fucking playlist is this?” with a laugh.

You walked through the sliding doors, Ben already getting distracted by some plants that were on clearance at the front doors, silently placing 2 small plant pots with some sort of pink flower in the middle into the cart.

There was a display as soon as you entered the shop floor, a large green cardboard cut out of the grinch, next to it sitting a handful of Christmas DVD’s, letting all the customers know that they could “Buy 1 Christmas DVD and receive a free 9” pizza”. Ben’s eyes immediately lit up, turning his head towards yours as he exclaimed that Christmas films and food are two of his favourite things ever. You shook your head in disbelief as you picked through the DVD’s, most of them being new and animated films you’d never heard of.

You were looking for one in particular, though you had little faith that it would be in the same pile as these cartoon ones. Ben loved The Nativity, one of the funniest Christmas films in the world, he reckons. He thought Martin Freeman was one of the best actors ever, and that along with Marc Wootton, it had to be the best film ever.

You rifled through the array of cases, finally picking out a white cover that read, “The Nativity!” You placed it in the cart, seeing Ben’s eyes light up as he bounced up and down in excitement, like a child.

“Can we get pepperoni on the pizza? Please!” He whined, earning a “yes” from you, to which he skipped down the aisle and giggled like a schoolboy.

You reached the fridges, Ben picking up 2 pints of milk and putting them in the trolley before giving an accomplished nod.

“Can we ‘ave a look at some vinyls?” He asked, with a pleading pout that he knew always won you over.

“Ooh, yeah actually, Gwil said he wanted the Hamilton vinyl a couple of weeks ago. Might be a good present, yeah?” You suggested, knowing it would result in Ben realising he hadn’t yet bought Christmas presents for any of his friends yet, something you’d been trying to gently remind him of for the last couple of weeks.

You made your way to the music section, getting distracted by anything and everything you could find. Ben was clinging onto a t-shirt with a green dinosaur on it, lit up by Christmas lights with a star on top of its head, the phrase “Tree-Rex” printed underneath it.

He held up the knitted fabric to you, and you both whispered, “Joe.” at the exact same time. It was folded and placed into the cart.

A pack of 250 small Christmas cards was the next thing to grab your attention, Ben telling you that the two of you “had to send the neighbours a card this year, considering the amount of times they’ve had to endure foolish giggles and the  creaky bed really late at night!” You’d simply nodded with a chuckle, though he didn’t put them in straight away. He noticed the box had been busted open at the top and went on a hunt for an unopened box. He reached his arm all the way back into the shelf, jokingly asking you to hold his hand so he didn’t get lost. He finally grabbed a pack, throwing them into the trolley from about a meter away and doing a celebratory dance when they went in.

One of the lights overhead flickered, which caused Ben to turn to you with an over-exaggerated gasp, claiming “Asda is haunted!!!!” and running away from you frantically. You guffawed at his antics, lightly jogging after him while trying to catch your breath from laughing.

After collecting your pizza on the way to the music section, Ben made a quick turn down the homeware section. He browsed the cushion cases, holding up a few colours and patterns that he thought may match your living room sofa, all of which received a horrified glare from you (this was the exact reason you didn’t let him take the lead when you decided to start decorating your flat together… his first suggestion was warm brown walls with a stripy turquoise and black sofa…)

He reached the mirror section, finding an extremely large plain mirror, with no frame, slowly running his finger over the edge of it.

“Might buy us this for Christmas.” He stated.

Your brows raised in confusion, tilting your head to tell him you were unsure why he’d said it.

“One of them naughty mirrors…… when you put it on the ceiling so I’d be able to see everything when you’re ridi-“  your hand quickly shot over his mouth, your eyes widening as you took in what he meant. You could feel his lips sporting a smirk beneath your palm. You shook your head and giggled along with him.

“C'mon babe… know you’d love seeing this juicy cheeks every time I’m on top of you…” you lightly smacked his chest and delivered a sharp, yet humorous, “enough!”.

Once you’d finally made it to the music section, Ben appeared to be in his element. He’d picked up the Hamilton vinyl for Gwilym, as well as a new Ariana Grande record for Lucy. He was eyeing up Taylor Swift’s newest release, hoping you wouldn’t notice when he slipped it into the cart. He groaned when you looked him directly in the eyes and shook your head with a knowing smile on your face.

“I was gonna give you that for Christmas! Now you’ve ruined the surprise!” He whined with a pout.

“You are all I want for Christmas.” You replied, already cringing wondering if anyone else had heard you.

He, too, shook his head, but still gave you a quick kiss on the cheek to show his appreciation for you.

The next aisle was the clearance aisle. This was a dangerous one for Ben. His Mum had always taught him “never to pass up a bargain, cause you’ll see it one day, regret not buying it, go back the next day and it’ll be gone!”.

Within 5 minutes of browsing the shelves, he’d picked up a large Christmas-themed Yankee Candle gift set for his brother, a turkey-shaped dog toy for Frankie (this one you’d suggested) as well as a pack of 3 photo frames and a new flower vase for his mum.

Walking to the checkout was always a dangerous game, as the bakery part of the shop was located right next to all the tills. He’d always claim to be “just looking” while you unloaded the trolley onto the moving belt so the cashier could scan your items, and most times he only came back with a box of flapjacks or at the most, 2 jam donuts and a reduced fat chocolate eclair cake.

What you weren’t expecting today, however, was for your boyfriend to return with a basket he’d picked up from somewhere, filled with pastries and cakes that made your mouth water.

“These’ll be alright til Christmas Eve won’t they? Can watch Nativity with our little pizza ‘n then fill ourselves wi’ these after? Yeah?” You didn’t really get a chance to reply before the food was placed down onto the belt. You’d never seen him so happy with himself, thinking he’d just come up with the best idea in the entire world, even though you’d done basically the same thing for the last 2 years of spending Christmas together.

The cashier gave you your total, a whopping £110, even though you’d originally come in for 2 pints of milk, which should’ve brought your total to around…. £3.

He shook his head with a small smile as he took his card out of his wallet, swiping it over the reader and thanking the lady when she gave him his receipt. He rolled the trolley out onto the car park, you following closely behind telling him to unlock the car so you’d be able to hear the beep it made and find it, considering how dark it was outside. After locating the vehicle, he gently placed all the items in the backseat, taking extra care to make sure the pizza was cushioned by Joe’s new shirt and Frankie’s new toy. He dropped the trolley back off at the shelter before getting into the car, strapping his seatbelt and turning the radio on.

Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime” filled the speakers, causing Ben to let out a quiet, “What a fuckin’ banger!”.

You couldn’t resist the urge to lean over and give him a peck on the cheek and a ruffle of his hair. You simply were having a wonderful Christmas time.

[swissmissficrecs]

This is such a long shot but, I was wondering if there were any Boarding School AUs that had a coming of age story vibe? I watched Dead Poets Society recently and none of the teenlocks are hitting the spot. I was wondering if you had a suggestion or if this is just going to be my white whale of fanfiction.

Reply: I’m afraid this is a question you’re going to have to answer yourself. The best I can do is give you a list of boarding school AU’s in my bookmarks, but it sounds like you have a specific yet subjective scenario in mind that only you can judge.

Boarding School AUs (including Potterlock)

A Magic Moment by alexxphoenix42 (159K, Mature/Explicit) Although John and Sherlock were both upper-level students at Hogwarts, they had never had a reason to actually speak before that night in detention together. Sherlock discovers there’s just something about John that he can’t pin down. Obviously John is something that requires a little more study.

A Study in Transfiguration by Aristophanium (Johnlock, 37K, Explicit) John Watson is a Seveth-year Gryffindor student. He and that strange Ravenclaw boy, Sherlock Holmes are partnered together to practice Transfiguration.

Feel the Tide by positivelymeteoric (45K, Mature) Things John Watson doesn’t expect to do when he transfers to a new school: A) Befriend his (possibly) mad roommate. B) Investigate a particularly nasty streak of murders with his (most likely) mad roommate. C) Fall slightly (or not so slightly) in love with his (definitely) mad roommate. D) All of the above.

Our Brave Boys by unknownsister (29K, Explicit) John worked himself to the bone to get into military school. He meets Sherlock Holmes, who doesn’t want to be there at all.

Panacea by trickybonmot (18K, Explicit) Hogwarts student John Watson knows Sherlock Holmes exists, but he doesn’t realize how important he is until they find themselves in seventh year Potions together. John is pretty sure he wants to be with Sherlock forever. Unfortunately, fate has other ideas. [Note: This continues past Hogwarts into their adult lives.]

Roll Away Your Stone by foxxcub (39K, Explicit) Seventeen-year-old John Watson is set to finish his final year of school with a flourish, until the headmaster assigns John as a “tutor” to an arrogant, yet brilliant new student named Sherlock Holmes. Holmes is not about to be put in his place by this popular rugby football player with the too-blue eyes, and John isn’t going to let this impulsive fifteen-year-old get away with anything. Neither expects to become friends, but a series of unexpected events and a possible murder mystery bring them closer together than either of them thought possible. [Note: this fic is set in the RDJ movie verse]

Saving Sherlock Holmes by earlgreytea68 (139K, Mature) Sherlock Holmes, schoolboy. Yeah, that basically sums it up.

School for Scandal by rubberbird (222K, Explicit) Sherlock lusts from afar. John tries to fool himself.

The Brave and the Cunning by thequeergiraffe (95K, Teen to Mature) Potterlock AU series (incomplete)

Two Years as Your Interpreter by prettyvk (42K, Explicit)  John isn’t scared of Sherlock or of the adults around them. But he is scared of this Message. He is scared he’ll be there, in two years, right next to Sherlock, watching and unable to do a damn thing when he dies.  Because the true Message was, “Don’t expect to make a career out of this interpreter thing. I’ll die in two years.”  For the first time in his life, John wishes he’d never taken the Cassandra Tests.

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[artificialqueens]

Different People (Different Arguments), 2/14 (Branjie/Jankie) - Ortega

a/n: a big thank u and loads of love to everyone who’s reading so far!!

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

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

Last chapter: Brooke helped Bianca set up Darienne’s resignation and the new Secretary of State Jacqueline Cox arrived.

In this chapter: Brooke and the rest of the advisors accompany Jackie to a series of press interviews in a bid to make her a household name. But it’s not all smooth sailing when they’re blindsided by a rogue interview and a sensationalist, right-wing newspaper article.

Trigger warning: d slur

***

Brooke thought that old saying was pretty much spot on- a week was a long time in politics. More fittingly, a week seemed like a year in politics when nobody was talking about you at all, which was exactly the case for Jackie Cox. The expenses scandal had taken up most of the headlines for the past seven days as it had emerged that Darienne apparently hadn’t been the only one that had been doctoring them. There had been a lot of reshuffling within the party as a result of the various resignations that had ensued and Bianca had been close to a massive coronary for the whole week trying to make order out of chaos.

The worst thing about the whole situation was having to watch Nicky Doll on the BBC lunchtime news, sat in front of Chi-Chi Devayne and shaking her head solemnly as she gave their whole party a damning verdict, saying how out of touch with the electorate they were and how much they lacked empathy for the British public. It still made Brooke’s blood boil; the fact that Nicky could accuse them of being out of touch when she grew up on acres of land, was privately educated her whole life and had basically been awarded the job in the Shadow Cabinet by her father and his Etonian schoolboy clique. The irony was almost painful.

Still, a week had been and gone and Jackie hadn’t quite made the splash that Bianca had been hoping for. She’d been given about the equivalent of a column inch across the tabloids and a couple of mentions on TV as part of the reshuffle, but apart from that they might as well have appointed an stuffed aubergine as Darienne’s replacement and the media wouldn’t have given two fucks. Jackie, for her part, seemed suitably disappointed. It was definitely interesting having her in the department, Brooke thought. She was an improvement on Darienne; efficient, motivating, determined. Productivity in the department seemed to have risen by quite an amount and for the first time in months Brooke could actually see Adore’s desk, the clutter and unfinished work almost gone. Jan had certainly started to throw herself into her work a lot more in the past week, which was intriguing for someone who had wanted to quit the job before Jackie arrived. Vanessa, if anything, was just on edge. She was constantly paranoid that Darienne was going to bomb threat Dosac as a result of their betrayal. Much as it made Brooke laugh, she hated seeing Vanessa genuinely worried and had to remind her almost daily that if Darienne could barely be bothered walking across the office to the water cooler then she probably wouldn’t go to the effort of creating an elaborate Guy Fawkes-esque attack on the department. Brooke’s stomach had flipped when Vanessa was finally reassured and flashed her a little shy smile, but that was probably just the result of something she’d eaten.

Definitely not anything to do with Vanessa.

Although not everything about Jackie’s arrival was positive. Jackie was incredibly strict on the way she wanted things done around the department and was never shy of calling meetings with her three advisors and Nina to clarify protocol or to smack them all over their heads with her latest thought process. For Brooke it reminded her of how annoying she found Jackie, but the other girls in the department seemed incredibly enamoured with her. Scarlet liked her makeup, Adore loved her humour. Vanessa was impressed with how organised and on top of things she was, Yvie admired her knowledge of a variety of different languages. Jaida liked her fashion sense, Nina appreciated how friendly she was to everyone that worked there. Jan seemed to hang off every word she said, nodding enthusiastically at any suggestion Jackie came up with, giggling like a fucking child at any joke she made. It was weird, Brooke thought. Admittedly Jan greeted most things in life with an excitable enthusiasm to match her bullet-train pace of speaking and her energetic movements, and whenever she was around Jackie she was the same but with a hint of something different to it all. She was always so alert, the first to speak up in meetings and give a pro to any con of an idea of Jackie’s. Brooke supposed that must have been the effect Jackie had on people. Well, people who weren’t her.

When Jackie bounced into the department on Monday morning behind Vanessa, she was wearing a black pair of suit trousers, a cream shirt and a matching black suit jacket, and carrying two full trays of Starbucks coffee.

“Good morning, ladies!” she sang, her bright smile dissonant with the grey drizzle outside and the fact that it wasn’t even 9am. “Thought we could all use some coffee this morning, a bit of caffeine to cure those Monday blues! Jaida, I’ve got a skinny latte for you!”

Impressed, Jaida jumped up out of her chair and took the coffee from Jackie with a grateful smile and a polite thank you.

“Yvie, I knew you liked your cappuccino with a shot of hazelnut, and Scarlet without,” Jackie continued, handing out coffee cups like Santa in a shopping mall’s sub-par grotto. “Adore, I got you a hot chocolate, Nina, I couldn’t remember whether or not you liked green tea or camomile so I got you raspberry and apple, is that okay?”

As Nina’s face lit up and reassured her that raspberry and apple was fine, Brooke found herself rolling her eyes. If Jackie wanted to get them all onside with drinks which essentially served as props for the Instagram photos of little white teenagers then she could be Brooke’s guest, but she wasn’t about to start buddying up to her anytime soon. She watched as she handed Vanessa a caramel latte, something inside her burning fiercely as she saw Vanessa flash her angelic smile Jackie’s way. The Minister then moved on to Jan’s desk, her cheerful demeanour suddenly becoming a little repressed, as if she was holding back out of embarrassment or fear or something else that wouldn’t make any sense at all. Brooke and Vanessa seemed to be the only ones watching as Jan looked up at Jackie from under her lashes.

“Hi,” Jackie began, smiling almost tentatively at the other girl. Jan tucked her long, blonde hair behind her ears and returned the smile.

“Morning, Jackie,” she replied brightly, her voice seeming a little nervous too.

“I got you a peppermint hot chocolate,” Jackie held out the cup nervously as Jan’s face lit up. “I remembered you saying the other day that you liked mint and chocolate together so…I thought you might like it.”

Brooke screwed her face up. That had been a conversation that had taken place last Friday, where Brooke had insisted the entire concept of pairing chocolate with what was essentially just a leaf was insane, and Jan passionately defended the gross combination. It was a silly debate, the kind that could probably be overheard in an infant school playground, and the week had worn them down so their level of intellectualism hadn’t exactly been high. They’d been in the car on the way to Prime Minister’s Questions and from what Brooke could remember Jackie hadn’t even taken part in the conversation. So how could she remember that?

“I did say that,” Jan beamed excitedly, looking up at Jackie with sparkling eyes. “Thank you so much! That’s really sweet.”

Jackie gave an awkward little salute which made Jan giggle, and then moved swiftly on to Brooke’s desk.

“You always liked black coffee at Uni, so…I’m hoping that hasn’t changed,” she shrugged, smiling hesitantly as she rested the cup on Brooke’s desk. Brooke regarded it for a second then turned to face Jackie.

“You shouldn’t buy coffee from tax-dodging companies. It reflects badly on the party,” she said bluntly, feeling a sense of schadenfreude as Jackie’s smile faltered somewhat. That’ll teach her to make Vanessa so goddamned happy.

Wait, where the fuck had that come from?

Feeling a little guilty and coming to the conclusion that she could really use some coffee, Brooke shot Jackie the tiniest smile before adding, “Thanks, though. I guess.”

Satisfied, Jackie turned and walked quickly into her office with her own coffee. Brooke exhaled deeply as she relaxed a little in her chair. She was being a bitch, she knew that, but in her eyes Jackie still had to prove herself to her. Buying them all coffee and staying out of the public eye was hardly going to cut it.

Brooke hadn’t even noticed Vanessa wheeling her way towards her on her swivel chair until she was right at her side.

“Morning, Ms Crocodile,” she smirked playfully, nudging Brooke with her shoulder. Brooke narrowed her eyes at her in response.

“Ms Crocodile?” she sighed, too tired to even try to play along.

“‘Cause you’re so snappy,” Vanessa giggled at her own joke, her caffeine-induced cheerfulness completely unwavering. Brooke tilted her head and fixed her friend with an unimpressed glare. Nonplussed, Vanessa bopped her on the nose with her finger. “Is someone a lil’ jealous of our new Minister friend?”

“Jealous, please,” Brooke scoffed. “In all the time you’ve known me have I ever been jealous of anyone?”

“Yes,” Vanessa said simply. Brooke rolled her eyes.

“I have not!”

“Have too, bitch.”

Brooke sighed, desperate to move the conversation out of the back-and-forth bickering that it had turned into. “Shut up. How was your weekend, anyway?”

“Oh, not bad. Me, Scarlet an’ Yvie went for lunch with Silk an’ Kiki on Saturday at that new Italian that opened up in Soho. Service was shit but the food was incredible so we’re for sure goin’ back. You should’ve come with us!”

Brooke grimaced. “You know how I feel about anyone who works for Nicky Doll, V.”

“Aw, c’mon, Brooke Lynn. Silk an’ Akeria work for the civil service, not Nicky,” Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I mean, look at those girls and tell me honestly if there’s anyone sat at those desks that’s party loyal.”

Brooke cast her eyes over to the comms team. Scarlet and Yvie had fashioned the assorted litter on their desks into a mini game of table football, Nina was reading some form of gossip magazine. At first glance it looked as if Adore was actually doing work until Brooke realised the phone she was talking into was definitely not a work phone, the huge fluffy pink phone case giving her away. Jaida was painting her nails red.

Knowing that Vanessa had her defeated, Brooke cast her gaze to the keyboard surreptitiously. “Things might be different at Nicky’s end, though.”

“Brooke, Kiki told us that last week Nicky and her advisors went to the treasury and the entire comms team played jousting with their wheely chairs across the office until they got back.”

“Even Asia?”

“The whole thing had been her idea! C’mon, we’re goin’ for drinks tonight after work. Please come? Please?” Vanessa pleaded with a pout, taking Brooke’s hand and in turn sending an electric charge straight to her heart. “I always miss you when you ain’t with us.”

Well. This changed the whole situation. Vanessa missed her, and so clearly if Brooke came out tonight that would make her happy. All Brooke really wanted was to make Vanessa happy. No- that sounded weird, like she had a crush on her or something- all it was was that Brooke just loved seeing Vanessa smile and the prospect of having that smile directed at her was worth spending time with the opposition. Taking a long sip of her coffee, Brooke was amused by the way Vanessa’s face was frozen in suspense.

“Okay, I’ll come tonight. But!” Brooke held a hand up, attempting to silence the excited Vanessa who was jumping up and down in her chair like an energetic puppy. “- I’m not staying too long, and you’re buying me a drink.”

“Sweet!” Vanessa beamed, giving Brooke’s hand one last squeeze and letting it go. Beginning to wheel her chair back to her own desk, she threw her head back and groaned. “Man, I can’t wait for this day to be over now!”

Trying to recover from her interaction with the human cocker spaniel herself, she turned her attention to the comms team.

“Do you guys not have some actual work to be getting on with?”

“Look around you, Brooke. This place is like dark ages Russia,” Yvie stretched out in her chair lazily, distracted from her game. “There’s no phones ringing. Nobody gives a shit about Dosac at the moment, they’re still too busy going over the finer details of everyone’s expenses and why Coco Montrese claimed for a duck house.”

Brooke had to give the media that; Coco’s duck house did seem to win the award for most ridiculous claim made, and the very fact that it had cost £850 was front page-worthy in itself. Sighing, she stood up from her desk and started to walk towards Jackie’s office.

“I’ll go talk to her,” she reassured the girls, who were no longer paying attention and had resumed their game of table football. Knocking on Jackie’s glass door, she could see her lounging in her chair, her feet up on the table as she scrolled at her laptop, bored.

“Come in!”

Brooke opened the door and made her way inside. Not bothering to sit, she opted instead to lean against the wall. “Do you want to give those girls out there something to work on instead of just coffee?”

Jackie gave her a disgruntled glare, swinging her heels down off the desk and onto the floor with a heavy clunk.

“They’re not working on anything because there isn’t anything to work on. I can’t get anything I want off ground until the media actually acknowledge my existence. I mean, am I a real person? Am I a ghost?”

“Well you’re not transparent. But then again I don’t actually know what a ghost looks like, so that doesn’t totally rule you out. They do take on human form sometimes, don’t they?”

“Brooke, I’m serious!” Jackie snapped at her, Brooke biting back a laugh and apologising. “I mean, what do you have to do to get on TV these days? Soil myself? Eat a used tampon? I don’t know what the minimum requirements are anymore.”

“Please don’t do either of those things.”

“You know what I mean. I mean, where’s Bianca been? I’ve not seen her since my first day.”

“She’s been too busy drinking the blood of those old Ministers she had to fire and reshuffling the entire party like some horrific human card deck. You’ll see her again, don’t worry. She probably has a plan for this whole radio silence the media have decided to pull on you,” Brooke found herself reassuring Jackie, who was slumped forward with her head in her hands looking disappointed. Obviously comforted somewhat, she sat up straight in her chair and smiled at Brooke.

“Thanks, Brooke Lynn. I guess I could start preparing for that incapacity benefits debate on Friday?” she shrugged, pulling her laptop in front of her decisively.

“That’s the spirit,” Brooke gave the air an anaemic punch as she strolled out of the office again. Sitting back in her chair and sighing, she hoped that Bianca would show up before the day was out.  

***

Bianca did have a plan.

She turned up to the office at around nine-thirty, around half an hour after Brooke had spoken to Jackie, and greeted everyone with milder insults than normal which made Brooke think that she was in a good mood. As she called for Nina, Brooke, Vanessa and Jan to come to the office, something told Brooke that the day was about to get a lot more high-octane.

Bianca liked Jackie from what Brooke saw of their first meeting. She supposed “liked” was the wrong word- “highly tolerated”, or just simply “didn’t want to strangle her” would be more appropriate. Brooke thought it was probably because Jackie had that way of being pleasant enough without coming across as an ass-kisser or a bullshitter, two things that Bianca despised.  

“Right, the Loose Women panel,” she began, casting her hand across the girls in the room. “I’ve noticed that Jackie is getting about as much attention as Jedward’s third album. Nina I know you’re not quite up to speed with popular culture so in layman’s terms, that’s fuck all attention.”

Nina bristled with offence as the other girls laughed. “I’m not a damn fossil, thank you very much.”

“Anyway, all that is going to change today,” Bianca turned to face Jackie, looking her directly in the eye. “I’ve got you three interviews with major newspapers.”

“What, nothing on TV?” Jackie cried, frustrated. Brooke saw Vanessa visibly stiffen out of the corner of her eye in preparation for the oncoming hellfire Bianca was about to unleash.

“Oh I’m sorry, Marilyn Monroe! In case you haven’t noticed, you’re a cabinet minister, not a fucking film star,” Bianca spat, her eyes glinting as she put Jackie in her place. “I’ve been busting my fucking ovaries to get this massive expenses fuck-up sorted and you want to argue the toss between having your face plastered over the papers or beamed into people’s living rooms? Calm the hell down. You have a fucking bundle to learn, let me tell you.”

Vanessa immediately hopped in, eager to dispel the tension that Bianca had created in the room. “Do we know who the interviews are with, Bianca?”

“We’ve got a print piece with The Independent. Laila McQueen is doing that one, she’s still young and will probably do the interview hungover so you should be alright. The second is for a supplement in The Times and it’s got an accompanying photoshoot. I think Fame is in charge of all that.”

Jackie laughed derisively, raising a single eyebrow in disbelief. “Fame?”

“Yes, Fame! That’s the bitch’s fucking name, and also what you’ll be avoiding for the rest of your career if you try to take the piss one more time!” Bianca folded her arms in defiance. Calming slightly and returning to her point, she continued. “Your last one of the day is with The Daily Mail.”

Brooke involuntarily sucked in a breath of air through her teeth. The Daily Mail had the potential to be a danger depending on who was conducting the interview.

“Do we know who we’ve got for that one?” she asked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“We don’t yet but it’s definitely not Gia Gunn. She’s away in Spain covering Yara Sofia’s wedding or some other tat,” Bianca curled her top lip, clearly unimpressed with the current standard of journalism.  

“Thank God. I don’t think I could sit listening to her speak through her nasal passages for a whole half hour,” Jan massaged her temples, already looking exhausted.

“Anyway, that’s an online interview so at least you’ll reach a larger audience. Your interview with McQueen is at 10.30, after that you’ll have a car to transport you and fucking Little Mix here to the next two. Are you clear on what the line is for everything?” Bianca asked, training one nail on Jackie’s face like a sniper.

“Yes,” Jackie said immediately.

“You’re still pushing what we spoke about last week?”

“Respond more compassionately to the refugee crisis, cut the banker’s bonuses and stop the war on benefit claimants,” Jackie fired off passionately, reminding Brooke of every single uni debate she’d ever taken part in.

Maybe she was going to be a force for good for this party after all.

“Jesus, nobody could accuse you of being wishy-washy,” Bianca raised her eyebrows, the closest thing to impressed Brooke had seen her in weeks. “Okay, go out into the world and make your mark! Make sure it’s not a skid mark. I’ll be back to check in at 4.”

With that, Bianca was carried away by her Jimmy Choos before Brooke could even wave her goodbye. Heaving a huge exhale, Jackie sat up in her chair and drummed her nails on the desk in what was either excitement or nervousness.  

“Look at you, Miss Cox! A photoshoot already for the next big thing in politics? You must’ve done somethin’ right,” Vanessa beamed at her, relaxing against the filing cabinet she had been standing beside. Jackie raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

“She’s right, this is a big deal, Jackie! You’re going to be Jan-tabulous,” Jan grinned, Brooke barely containing the way her eyes rolled at the awful pun.

Jackie’s cheeks became a little flushed as she gave Jan a hopeful smile. “You think so?”

Jan looked to the floor momentarily, tucking an unruly section of hair behind one ear as her own cheeks began to go a little pink. “Of course you will! Believe in yourself, I believe in you! I mean…we. We all do.”

The room was suddenly silent as Jackie unsuccessfully tried to hold back a massive smile, Jan still blushing and looking at the floor timidly. Looking to Nina incredulously, Brooke decided to swiftly move them all on from whatever the fuck this was.

“Told you Bianca would have a plan, didn’t I?” she raised her eyebrows smugly, stretching out in her chair like a cat.

“You did indeed, Brooke Lynn,” Jackie indulged her, smirking a little.

“Much as I’d love to join in the Brooke Was Right All Along celebrations, we do only have half an hour until we need to be at The Independent,” Nina clicked her pen impatiently, prompting a flurry of activity within the office. Vanessa was asked to phone for Jackie’s driver, Jan and Brooke were to collect any and all relevant notes that could be useful for the interviews, and Nina was asked to stay and go over the media briefing with Jackie one more time. As the girls rushed around the department getting things ready, Adore shouted over from the comms team asking what in the real and actual fuck was going on.

“Bianca’s kickstarting Jackie’s career so we’re going to be running around various media offices all day. We’re paying your girlfriend a visit, by the way,” Jan smirked, laughing at the way Adore blushed slightly and turned her attention back to her keyboard.

“Hey, you’re in no position to speak, girl,” Brooke lowered her voice as she joined Jan as she flicked her way through a massive filing cabinet. “What the hell was that in there? Ohh, we all believe in you Jackie, you’re going to do great, my eyes are actually made of heart emojis!”

Brooke immediately regretted her comments as Jan suddenly hit her with a massive lever arch file, her face unimpressed. “I’m simply trying to be nice and supportive. You know, being nice? You maybe did it once back in 2001 or something?”

Unable to help herself, Brooke let out a peal of laughter. “Shut up. Let’s get moving before Bianca comes back to yell at us for being late.”

With the five girls all assembled, they began to make their way to the lift. Jackie looked every inch the confident, successful politician in her smart outfit, shining, polished patent heels, and perfect makeup. However inside Brooke knew she would be terrified and that in turn terrified her. As much as she still didn’t have a huge amount of faith in Jackie she hoped and prayed she wouldn’t fuck up. As they were about to step into the lift, Brooke felt a sudden tug on the sleeve of her coat. Turning round, she saw Adore looking a little nervous.

“Brooke,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder at the rest of the comms team anxiously. “I’m not really seeing Laila McQueen…well, not seeing seeing her. But, uh…if you catch her. Could you tell her I said hi?”

Giving her a quick look up and down, Brooke could tell Adore was serious.

“Don’t tell me you’ve developed feelings for her? Because this could be a total mess, Adore. If you get into a relationship with her and put one foot out of line our party’s going to be all over the papers like cat piss,” she warned her sternly. Adore seemed to already have considered this, and tugged down the sleeves of her smart shirt over her knuckles.

“I know what I’m getting myself into. Just…let her know, okay?”

With that, Adore turned on her six-inch heels and walked back to her desk, her face hiding any trace of the conversation ever having happened. Still slightly thrown, Brooke walked into the lift just as the doors closed behind her.

“Timed that well, genius,” Jan quipped as Brooke quickly fixed her hair in the mirror.

What was happening to the office, Brooke wondered. Scarlet and Yvie were all loved up, something (God knows what) was going on with Jan, and now Adore was trying to make things serious with a journalist, of all people.

At least she could say that she’d never get herself into something as ridiculous as a workplace relationship.

***

Sitting at the sidelines and watching Jackie’s interview with Laila McQueen wrap up, Brooke breathed a huge sigh of relief. It had gone well. Really well, actually. From the moment Jackie had walked in and greeted the young journalist, it was clear that Laila was impressed by her and the interview had seemed more like a friendly chat if anything. No matter how well it had gone, though, it hadn’t stopped Vanessa being on edge and she’d sat and picked at the split ends in her hair for the entire hour, completely tense. Jan had sat enraptured by the entire thing, her elbows resting on her knees and her head resting in her hands as she listened to Jackie talk. Nina, on the other hand, had slowly made her way through the entire plate of biscuits The Independent had provided them, seemingly not the least bit bothered whether Jackie succeeded or failed.

Remembering her promise to Adore, Brooke went up and greeted the journalist just as they were all making to leave.

“Ms McQueen.”

“Brooke Lynn, right?” she smiled, holding out an overly-formal hand for her to shake. Brooke took it tentatively.

“Um, yeah. How did you-”

“Sweetheart, I work in journalism. We make it our business to know everything about anyone who’s anyone, or who knows anyone who’s anyone even remotely,” Laila reeled off cryptically.

“Uh, great. Anyway, I just came over to say that Adore says hi. Clearly she’s not in any way bothered about seeming desperate,” she added at the end as she inwardly despaired of the junior comms officer. Laila shook her head and gave a funny sort of laugh.

“Well. Tell her she’s got my number if she ever wants to tell me herself,” she smiled flirtatiously as she swaggered away, as if she’d been talking to Adore herself. Cursing herself for allowing herself to be intimidated by some fresh-out-the-womb journalist, Brooke quickly caught up with the other girls in the car.

Interview number two and the accompanying photoshoot was less perfect. Jackie had the detriment of being interviewed by the infamous Fame, who asked her a lot more hard-hitting questions. Jackie gave as good as she got and fired back counterattacking statements, facts and figures as the four other girls sat and watched the verbal tennis match that was unfolding in front of them. Still, the photoshoot went a little better and Jackie seemed pretty confident in front of the camera. If Brooke was feeling generous she would even say that the Minister looked good, but it was already half past one and she’d still not had any lunch so to say she was feeling irritable was putting it mildly. With a curt nod and a handshake from Fame they were out of the building and into the car to the next interview, Jackie squashed between Vanessa and Jan and Brooke and Nina sitting opposite them. With a groan, Jackie immediately pulled off her heels.

“Oh God, Jackie, could you at least wait until we’re not in the car to do that? You’re not at home in front of the TV, this is a Cabinet Minister’s Bentley,” Brooke turned her nose up.

“Hey, lay off! These heels are just hard to break in. God, I’m already exhausted,” Jackie sighed, tipping her head to the side and resting it on Jan’s shoulder. Brooke watched as Jan’s eyes grew momentarily huge, then as she stayed painfully still as if Jackie was a little bird or butterfly that she didn’t want to scare away.

“Nina,” Vanessa asked as she leant forward in her seat and furrowed her brow. “You got any word on who’s doing this interview yet?”

“I only know what Bianca’s told us, I’m afraid. When I know, you’ll know,” Nina replied lazily, scrolling through her work phone with boredom. Vexed, Brooke frowned at her.

“Nina, what actually is your job title? Communications officer with the society for the deaf, blind and dumb?”

“Okay! Okay, God, I’ll send a few texts. Chill,” Nina rolled her eyes, beginning to tap at her phone.

“She’s going to send a few texts. Some really groundbreaking stuff here, folks.”

“Will you two stop with the bickering?” Vanessa hissed, slamming her folder on her knees for emphasis. “We still got ten minutes in this car, can’t we all arrive at The Daily Mail without any limbs havin’ been hacked off?”

There was a frosty silence in the car as it rumbled along the streets of London, every so often getting caught in inevitable traffic and being crowded up in between huge, double-decker buses and black cabs. Brooke was worried. Bianca usually knew by now who was conducting the interview and the fact that she apparently didn’t yet, or had just neglected to tell them, wasn’t good.

After a few minutes in which the silence was only broken by the rumble of the car’s engine, Nina spoke again.

“Huh. That’s interesting.”

All four of the others turned to face Nina, who was looking at her phone quizzically. Obviously taking their concerned faces as a prompt, she continued talking.

“The interview is with…Shangela Wadely?”

The silence continued, only this time everyone’s faces became somewhat more crumpled up.

“Ring any bells with anyone?” Nina asked tentatively.

Brooke was stumped. She had been expecting perhaps Delta and had been bracing herself for a rocky interview at best, but she had never heard of this Shangela girl before. She must have been new on the scene, which was a worry because now they had no idea what to make of how this interview would go.

“Whoever the bitch is, I’m sure the interview will go amazin’,” Vanessa eventually smiled, her optimism and positivity making Brooke worry a little less.

“Jan-mazing!” Jan piped up happily, earning her a groan from the four other women in the car.

Eventually arriving at the offices of The Daily Mail, they were ushered through various corridors by a receptionist who was clearly rushed off her feet. She deposited them in some form of lobby, told them that Shangela would be with them in a few minutes, and after that they were left on their own. Trying to get her bearings, Brooke took in her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that everything was eerily pink. The odd sofa-slash-bench things they were sitting on were pink, the carpet was a light pink, the walls looked like something in Barbie’s dream house. It was as if they’d turned up to be interviewed by Delores Umbridge. As each minute passed, Brooke became less and less able to take her surroundings seriously.

“How the hell is this the décor in a newspaper office? I feel like I’m sitting inside a womb,” she eventually said, not without a generous helping of disgust.

“Well, Bianca did say it was an online piece. Maybe they’re more lax about their offices in the web department?” Jan shrugged, scrutinizing the furniture around them.

Something about it still wasn’t sitting right with Brooke. However, she barely had time to think too much about it as a bright, bubbly woman emerged from a pink corridor to greet them. She was wearing a short, blue shift dress which complimented her dark skin and glossy brown hair, and her makeup was perfect. This girl seemed miles away from the journalists Brooke knew, most of them all usually hungover or sporting their makeup from the night before or bad-tempered. The girl introduced herself as Shangela and showed them all through to another eerily pink room but this time set up and equipped for an interview, another girl getting various things ready inside. To Brooke’s delight there was a sandwich platter sat on a table at the back of the room. Reaching for a plate, she began piling them up on top of each other, reigning it in with embarrassment as she saw Vanessa standing beside her. Looking at her friend, she noticed a small, worried frown on her face.

“Hey. This will go fine, okay? Jackie’s got this.”

“I know. I’m just nervous, Brooke. I’ve been to the web offices before, we both have, when we were with Darienne. This looks like we’re in the wrong place,” Vanessa whispered, tugging on a lock of hair.

“Yeah, well, maybe Jan’s right. Maybe this is just an extension or another section of the offices or something. We’ll definitely be in the web department, even if it looks like the inside of Sharpay Evans’ locker. Don’t worry,” Brooke gave Vanessa a brave smile.

“You’re so good at calming me down. Sorry for bein’ a mess,” Vanessa smiled back somewhat apologetically. “Thanks, Brooke Lynn.”

Before Brooke could even open her mouth to reply, Vanessa had sat down on the ridiculously pink sofa beside Jan and Nina, waiting for the interview to begin. All appetite suddenly gone, Brooke replaced the plate of sandwiches on the table and joined Vanessa on the sofa. She was so warm and the room was so cold and Brooke had to fight the urge to cuddle up to her.

She watched as Shangela sat down in the chair opposite Jackie, the random girl who was clearly her assistant handing her a bottle of water, her notes and her recorder.

“So we’ll just get straight into it and we’ll edit bits out and together as necessary, okay?” Shangela smiled at Jackie, who nodded a little nervously and shifted in her seat. Picking up her recorder, Shangela pressed a single button and sat back in her seat. “Interview with Jackie Cox, commencing at 15.07 on the 14th of October, 2016. Hi Jackie, it’s so good to have you with us today!”

“It’s good to be here, Shangela. I’m just excited to show your readers what I’m about and what they can expect from the party with me as head of the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship,” Jackie reeled off, smiling pleasantly back at her.

This was a good start. Shangela seemed cheerful enough, relatable and happy and keen to present Jackie in a good light.

“I have to say, I’m absolutely loving this outfit you have on, Jackie. Can you tell me a little bit about it, why did you choose that particular one today?” Shangela asked, leaning forward in her seat.

Brooke furrowed her brow. This wasn’t exactly ideal- Jackie was here to talk policy, not the contents of her walk-in wardrobe. Reminding herself that these sorts of questions were unfortunately expected if you were a woman working in politics, Brooke tried to relax. This was just one stupid question about fashion to try and endear her to the female electorate, she was sure Shangela meant well. Jackie looked somewhat like a deer in the headlights as she cast a quick glance to her advisors sitting on the sofa. Brooke nodded rapidly and enthusiastically, circling her hand in a bit to move Jackie along.

“Um, well it’s black and white. And…it’s a nice suit. And I chose it because I liked it and I needed to look smart for work, I guess?” she shrugged, smoothing down her trousers self-consciously.

“It’s gorgeous. Where did you pick it up?”

“Um…from the hangers in my wardrobe?” Jackie laughed awkwardly, glancing again to the girls on the sofa. “I’m sorry I don’t, um…?”

Shangela laughed with her, slightly falsely, Brooke noted. That tight feeling in her stomach returned again, and she willed Shangela to start asking her about Jackie’s actual job sooner rather than later.

“I have to say, Jackie, you’ve got a great sense of humour, some great style- the guys must be falling over each other to snap you up! Tell me, is there a man in your life at the moment?” Shangela continued, reaching for her water bottle. Jackie’s mouth dropped open a little bit, something between a laugh and a cough coming out. She looked clearly offended, and if she was being honest Brooke didn’t blame her. The archaic questions were beginning to wear thin, and Jackie was obviously keen to start talking about what she was actually there for, instead of whatever this was.  

“Well, I’m not interested in men at all actually, so no,” Jackie replied curtly, her face completely unimpressed and her upper lip curled. There were two ticks of silence where it was Shangela’s turn to look taken aback, and Brooke didn’t dare turn her head to gauge the reactions of the other girls. Shuffling through her notes Shangela continued, the false smile back on her face again.

“So, you’re a woman in politics- a lesbian woman in politics-” Shangela corrected herself, adding in the extra word as if it was somehow relevant to what she was about to ask her. “Are there any other women around Westminster whose style you’re particularly jealous of at the moment? Or indeed, anyone that you’ve got your eye on?”

Jackie raised both her eyebrows and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth very deliberately, as if she was considering what she was about to say. “I don’t really know how this is relevant at all, to be quite honest. Can we move on?”

Brooke jumped as Vanessa’s hand flew out and grabbed her wrist, her nails almost digging into her skin. Glancing quickly at her, Brooke saw that Vanessa’s face looked absolutely terrified, like she’d just been thrown off a ski jump blindfold.

“It’s okay, she’s got this,” Brooke whispered to her, Vanessa nodding ever so slightly but still not releasing her grip on Brooke’s arm.

She could live with that, even if it was starting to cut off the blood circulation to her hand.

“Of course, no problem,” Shangela nodded, glancing at Jackie through narrowed eyes and looking once more at her notes. Soon enough the fake smile was back on her face. “So, as a Cabinet Minister, you’re obviously in a position where you’re sometimes out of the department working all day.”

Delighted that Shangela had finally deviated from asking her such pointless questions, Jackie immediately launched into an answer.

“I’m so glad you brought that up because just today I had an interview with The Independent, where we spoke about my targets over my time in office. I want to make sure that the party is-”

“Ah, so even today you’ve been on the go!” Shangela cut her off, and Brooke thought she couldn’t sound more patronising if she’d tried. “So when you find you’ve got a day like this, what sort of things do you keep in your handbag to make sure you can confidently go about your work and slay whilst doing it?”

Jackie looked momentarily as if she’d been slapped. Ignoring the question, she turned to directly face the girls, and Vanessa’s nails dug into Brooke’s skin once more.

“Is this interview definitely with The Daily Mail or for a 1950’s edition of Cosmo?” she laughed, her eyes dark. Brooke heard Jan suck in an enormous breath of air between her teeth. Vanessa froze. Nina looked like she hadn’t a clue what to say. Brooke was rarely stuck for how to react, but even she was lost for words. Shangela was looking at her assistant with wide eyes, as if she didn’t know either.

“Miss Cox, these questions are simply designed to appeal to the female electorate and help portray you in a favourable, relatable light,” Shangela explained through gritted teeth.

“Well, here. Start maybe by not dumbing them down so much and assuming that the only way they can understand politics is through the finer points of my damn washing basket,” Jackie snapped, standing up from the chair and grabbing her bag decisively. “Ladies, come on. I’m not hugely interested in giving these people any more of my time.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph I feel like I’ve just been pushed out of a plane,” Vanessa whispered breathlessly, frozen to the sofa.

“Jackie, maybe Shangela has some different questions-” Brooke began, desperately trying to placate both the Minister and Shangela. Already the journalist’s face was scheming, as if she knew what headline she was going to run already.

“Screw that, I’m not staying here! If I wanted to sit through half an hour of painful misogyny I could just go and stand outside a building site wearing fishnets and a push-up bra. Let’s get the hell out of here,” Jackie insisted, wrenching open the door. Dutifully, Brooke stood up and followed her, Vanessa not once letting go of her wrist. She couldn’t see Jan’s face, but somehow she already knew it would be similar to her own. As Jackie stormed through the offices and back outside like a tornado, Brooke started thinking less about the diabolical interview and more about how they were going to firefight the inevitable aftermath.

Finally outside, Jackie took a deep breath as the other girls watched her nervously.

“Nina, phone the driver please and tell him if he’s not here within the next two minutes I’m going to cut off his face, turn it into a mask and wear it to the next fancy dress party I get invited to,” she finally blurted out, still clearly angry and shaken by the interview.

“I’ll, um. I’ll maybe just tell him to be as quick as he can,” Nina reasoned, shuffling off to a quieter stretch of the street to make the phonecall.

“What the flying pelican hell was that?!” Jackie cried, staring at the three advisors with incredulity. “Did we time travel? Are we suddenly in the 1950’s? Christ, I thought that these days they’d at least be subtle about sexist bullshit like this, but no!”

“You know you’ve just massively fucked up, right? You can’t just storm out of an interview like that and expect it not to be all over the front pages tomorrow. You’re not any better at just learning to keep your mouth shut now than you were eight years ago, are you?” Brooke snapped, her last sentence out before she knew it. Vanessa was upset, and in Brooke’s view Jackie was the one that had made her upset, so therefore Jackie was getting all of her blame right now and not that airhead journalist.  

“So I was just supposed to sit there and answer all that crap like a good little Stepford politician?! Jesus, Brooke, do you not understand just how patronising all of those questions were?”

“Jackie’s right,” Jan spoke up slowly. “To sit through an interview like that would’ve portrayed her as someone that’s never going to be of any threat in Westminster whatsoever. This is going to paint her as someone that should be taken seriously, someone that doesn’t fuck about.”

Upon hearing Jan’s words Jackie seemed to calm down by a good 50%, and smiled at her gratefully. In response Jan’s cheeks flushed and she looked to the ground. Brooke couldn’t help but roll her eyes. This was absolute madness, and she couldn’t be the only one that was terrified at how the fallout of this would affect Jackie’s position in the party. Giving up on both of them, she turned her attention instead to Vanessa, who was sitting alone on the steps leading up to The Daily Mail’s offices.

“V,” Brooke murmured as she sat down beside her. “You okay?”

Vanessa sat up slowly, taking a deep breath as she tried to calm herself down. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Jeez, I’ve been through some stresses in this job but that was just…a new level. I’ve never seen anythin’ like that before. She’s going to get slaughtered by them, Brooke Lynn. What are we gonna do?”

Without thinking, Brooke put her arm around Vanessa’s shoulders, pulling her in close in an attempt to help her relax. “We’ll do what we always do, baby. Spin  the entire situation. And you’re going to be the best at it out of us all. You’re clever and creative and crafty, and you’re going to be an asset to us this afternoon. And probably this evening, to be honest, I doubt this is all going to be sorted in a matter of hours.”

Brooke’s heart hammered as Vanessa looked up to her, her eyes wide and dark and so gorgeous that Brooke briefly lost her breath. She felt suddenly as if she should say something to her, tell her something, but she didn’t quite know what.

Brooke’s gaze was averted from Vanessa’s eyes by a sleek black car pulling up on the road in front of them.

“Jackie, the car!” Brooke yelled up the steps, standing up and taking Vanessa’s hand without thinking.

“This’ll all be okay, right?” Vanessa asked, squeezing Brooke’s hand tentatively.

“Hey. We’re the dream team, remember? This’ll be easy,” Brooke smiled, stepping into the car and praying inwardly that she was right.

***  

It was front page of The Daily Mail’s main website in a matter of hours.

EXCLUSIVE: AS JACKIE COX WAVES HER SEXUALITY IN OUR FACES AND STORMS OUT OF INTERVIEW, WE SAY…PLUG THE DYKE!

“Wow. I knew they were sensationalist, but I didn’t realise they’d be quite so flippant about plastering a slur all over their website like that,” Nina said awkwardly, as the other girls sat open-mouthed in front of their own monitors.

“I…actually can’t believe they published this,” Vanessa whispered, clearly in shock.

Brooke couldn’t believe it either. She knew that the world hadn’t suddenly been cured of all bigotry just because women had rights and the LGBT community could vote, but she was amazed that the newspaper had managed to get away with something quite so blatantly homophobic.

“Is Jackie okay…?” she spoke up, casting an eye to the glass office where Jackie appeared to have her head in her hands. Immediately, Jan sprang up from her seat.

“I’ll go talk to her,” she said, already halfway across the office on her way to Jackie’s door.

Even Bianca was silent, perched at Vanessa’s desk like a bird of prey. She’d practically lain in wait for them at the office, somehow already aware of what had gone on at The Daily Mail, and had given that one single blood vein on her forehead a good exercise as she yelled at Jackie until she was purple-faced. It turned out that with a simple Google search, Shangela Wadely could be identified as the editor-in-chief of Femail, the Daily Mail’s online section devoted entirely to women. Brooke couldn’t even summon the energy to be mad at Nina for not doing her research. If she was being honest, knowing the segment of the website they were doing an interview for beforehand wouldn’t really have changed the situation. The questions would still have been ridiculous, like some mad parody of a TV show created 60 years ago, and Jackie still would’ve probably not wanted to answer them.

Once Bianca had finished incinerating them all she had worked together with Jackie and the advisors to sort out a line. The dilemma soon became clear; did Jackie come out and address misogyny in the media as an important issue to be tackled or would that make too much noise for a minister who’d only been a week in office? Jan had been enthusiastically pushing the pro-feminist stance, googling those This Is What A Feminist Looks Like t-shirts before the cons of the argument could even be established. Brooke had been wary of it herself, scared of what the dangers of being so outspoken could pose.

“You could really split the electorate with this, Jackie. You know what the public are like, half of them still see the word ‘feminist’ and sharpen their pitchforks before you can even explain what the word actually means. It’s risky,” she’d mused, biting on the end of her pen. She’d looked up at Bianca, about to ask her what she’d thought when Nina had yelled that The Daily Mail had the story up on their website, and they had all dashed to their monitors to check.    

Most of them were still staring at the headline in shock.

“Bianca,” Brooke said, quietly but not so that she couldn’t hear. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Bianca was deep in thought for a few seconds, then suddenly she sprang up from Vanessa’s desk, thundering across the floor. “Okay, this is what we’re going to run with! The homophobia and misogyny in the British media is rife and today it has reared its ugly head. Call for condemnation of The Daily Mail, set fire to their houses, fuckin’ eat their children, I don’t care! But just let everyone know that if they even so much as try to make Jackie look like the bad guy in this situation, then they’ll have me to answer to!”

Brooke immediately took to her phone, opening up her list of contacts and settling first on Dida at The Telegraph. Bianca didn’t usually fully show too much kindness to members of the cabinet, but maybe she was a fan of Jackie after all. Brooke had never seen her get quite so defensive over one of her Ministers before, but then again that headline had been disgusting and she wasn’t surprised that Bianca was enraged.  As Jan dashed out of Jackie’s office and hit the phone, Brooke found herself hoping that Jackie was alright. Just because she still wasn’t sold about her as a Minister didn’t mean she had any right to put up with shit like that from any news outlet.

A series of conversations and constantly ringing phones later and Brooke still hadn’t reached the halfway point in her list of contacts or was even a quarter of the way through. Her throat was bone dry from repeating the same thing over and over again, and from the looks of it everyone in the office felt the same. Even Bianca seemed to be at risk of carpal tunnel from the force at which she was typing things into her phone.  It had reached almost five o’clock and it didn’t appear as if the newspapers were going to let up, or indeed if any of them were going to be heading home anytime soon. So when Nina’s phone rang for what seemed to be the thousandth time, nobody paid any attention at first. That was until she ran over to Bianca.

“Bianca! Bianca, this is important!” Nina hissed, the phone cord stretching to inhuman proportions as Nina leant over to where Bianca stood. “I’ve got Widow Von’Du on the phone.”

There was suddenly a moment where everyone in the department held their breath, then immediately made their excuses to whoever they were on the phone to and hung up.

“Jackie, get out here!” Bianca yelled into Jackie’s office. Obviously bracing herself for more bad news, Jackie trudged out of her office, her face holding a brave smile despite the defeat in her eyes.

“What’s the development, then? Is The Daily Mail’s front page tomorrow just a huge portrait picture of me with another massive slur in capital letters and size 72 font?” she joked despairingly. Jan was the first to speak, clearly excited at the prospect of cheering Jackie up.

“No, Jackie, this is good! Nina has Widow Von’Du on the phone!” she whispered, as if she was conscious that Widow could hear them through the phone.

“What?!”

“Yes! She’s in my hand right now! Apparently she admired your stance against the sexism that’s still so rife in politics and she wants you on the six o’clock news to discuss it with her!” Nina beamed, the phone still pressed to her chest.

Jackie’s entire face immediately changed, her expression first shocked, then sort of confused, and then finally relieved happiness as she struggled to get her words out. “Tell her I’ll be there!”

“Jackie, are you sure this is a good-”

“Tell her I’ll fucking be there, before she hangs up! Oh my God, Widow Von’Du. I’m going to be interviewed by Widow Von’Du, fuck!” Jackie squealed excitedly, spontaneously crushing Jan in a tight hug.  

Brooke couldn’t help but smile fondly at Jackie. She was clearly happy, excited at the prospect of turning the day around. Part of her was apprehensive about the fact she was about to be interviewed by Widow Von'Du, though. To compare Widow to somebody else would be foolish- she was incomparable, a standalone figure in the world of journalism, the Nelson’s Column of interviewers. To be interviewed by her was a bit like being asked for an audience with the queen.

“Right, we need to do a lot of things very quickly. Vanessa, you need to phone for the car to Broadcasting House. Brooke, locate some makeup and spruce this bitch up a bit, okay? Jan, you’re gonna go with Jackie to the interview, start grabbing any notes you can get your hands on, anything relevant. Scarlet! Yvie! Jaida! I want you ladies to start phoning anyone and everyone you know, I don’t care if it’s Raja Gemini or Ellen DeGeneres’ cat. Get some fucking hype going around this, this is big, this is the splash we want to be making! Oh, and Adore!” Bianca finished, looking Adore dead in the eye and consequently making her look as if she’d wet her pants.

“Yes, Bianca?” she asked, terrified.

“…get me a fuckin’ Fanta!”

***

The tension and excitement were palpable in the air as Brooke, Vanessa, Bianca and the entire comms team all sat huddled around the huge LCD TV in the corner of the offices. Brooke’s stomach felt as if it was an atrium full of butterflies. If Jackie pulled this off, this would be amazing for her career. If she crashed and burned, she may as well just resign now.

“What time’s it?” asked Vanessa, her voice anxious.

“Five fifty-nine,” said Scarlet, looking up at Vanessa from her space on the floor beside the sofa. “Do you want me to do a countdown?”

“What is this, a fucking space exploration? I just want us all to sit and look at the fucking TV and shut up until Jackie’s home and dry, is that too much to ask?” Bianca cut in, clearly unimpressed by how chilled out Scarlet was. Put out, Scarlet instead cuddled close to Yvie and rested her head on her shoulder.

For a moment Brooke was jealous of them both, jealous of what they had. She sometimes wanted someone to curl up to if she was tired and someone to go home with at the end of the day because despite how much she tried to argue otherwise, she did fleetingly get lonely. Her studio flat often seemed like a giant hen coop and perhaps it was the tiny enclosed space that worsened the feeling, but often it was hard pretending she was such a stone-cold bitch all of the time. It was hard working all day with someone like Vanessa and knowing that she was so beautiful and kind and intelligent and such a ray of sunshine and the complete opposite of her, and that she could be snapped up at any moment by any fucking ridiculous guy that wanted her and that shouldn’t bother her, fuck, why did it bother her?

Brooke was wrenched out of her increasingly spiralling thought process by Adore hitting her shoulder repeatedly. In a daze, Brooke’s eyes focussed on the TV screen where the all too familiar “pips” of the BBC news at six began to play. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, even Bianca.

Dun-dun. “Desperate for shelter- as the refugee crisis worsens, the BBC asks how much longer is the Prime Minister going to ignore it?”

Dun-dun. “Could house prices be getting worse instead of better? Chi-Chi Devayne finds out if you should be selling up or staying put.”

Dun-dun. Brooke sat bolt upright in her seat as a huge, blown-up screengrab of the Daily Mail article filled the screen, backed with the recording of Jackie’s interview in which she walked out. “And, is Britain’s treatment of women only going backwards? In the wake of her interview with The Daily Mail, Minister for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship Jackie Cox talks to Widow Von'Du about why this should serve as a wake-up call to journalists across the country.”

As the intro began to play and Widow was revealed sitting in front of her desk, Brooke still wasn’t able to relax. Jackie probably wouldn’t be on for another fifteen minutes but that wasn’t going to stop her worrying. Looking up at Bianca she saw that she was looking at her phone.

“Bianca. Any word from Jan?”

Snapping her head up from the screen, Bianca gave some semblance of a reassuring glance. “Just got a text from her. She says that Jackie’s raring to go, already met Widow and they got on like a house on fire. She says it’s very unlikely that we have anything to worry about.”

“Great, so am I good to go home now?” Nina asked, lazily lifting her head up from the huge cushions of the sofa. Bianca only had to fix her with a withering glance and her head was immediately back down again.

Turning her head around from the item on the TV, Jaida suddenly spoke up. “So, why hasn’t the PM actually spoken out about the refugee crisis anyway?”

Seemingly glad for a distraction, Bianca sighed. “It’s not without me trying. I’ve practically been on my hands and knees begging to get him to say something, anything, I don’t know. Even a whisper that sounds something vaguely like “refugees” but could actually just have been him saying “cheese” would be better than nothing. At least we could turn that into a fucking soundbite.”

“Surely he can’t stay silent forever?” Yvie snorted, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Well, until he does speak I’m going to have to use all these fucking Ministers as sock puppets for the things I want him to say. That’s why I’m hoping this interview is going to go well, so that when Jackie is finished she’s going to be so well-loved by the public that they’ll hang off her every word. Hopefully by the time this interview ends, the PM might as well just be fucking redundant.”

“Shh! Guys!” Vanessa hissed, flapping one hand excitedly at the TV screen and holding on tightly to Brooke’s arm with the other.

Fuck, why did she need to do that?

“…joined by secretary of state for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship, Jackie Cox. Miss Cox, welcome,” Widow smiled at her, her face genuine and warm and making Brooke want to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Hi Widow, it’s good to be here,” Jackie smiled back. She seemed at ease and pretty relaxed. Jan clearly hadn’t been bullshitting them.

“So, obviously today you’ve been subject to a lot of scrutiny, certainly online. Could you perhaps explain what happened to our viewers who may not know what it was that occurred?”

“Of course,” Jackie nodded, leaning forward a little in her seat. “I was basically given an interview by a journalist at The Daily Mail, which I thought would be covering my career and my policies and short term and long term goals- you know, things like that.”

Widow nodded sagely from her chair.

“It turned out- I didn’t know this at the time- but it turned out that the story was for the section of the website targeted at women. What basically happened was the journalist asking me questions that I didn’t think were in any way relevant to my status as a politician, as a secretary of state, as a Minister.”

“What sort of questions were those?” Widow asked, obviously knowing full well.

“Things such as what I kept in my handbag, if I was jealous of any other women in Westminster, if I had a boyfriend…that sort of thing,” Jackie explained, laughing a little humourlessly. Widow smiled.

“Now obviously we’re laughing but it’s an incredibly prevalent issue in the media at the moment- the underlying, often subtle sexism in the media directed to female politicians,” Widow frowned, Jackie animatedly sitting up in her chair and beginning to speak before Widow had even asked her a question.

“Well absolutely, and often it’s very blatant too! For example, the sort of language The Sun used when they wrote about Nina Flowers after it emerged that she wouldn’t stand in the by-election as she had suffered a miscarriage. Also a lot of the opposition’s leadership contest was shambolic in that sense as well. There were three women in the running so obviously every paper referred to it as a catfight, in fact I think The Star photoshopped the heads of all three candidates onto cats?” Jackie ranted, Widow just letting her speak and nodding repeatedly throughout. “Oh and lest we forget that infamous line from Nicky Doll; that Manila Luzon shouldn’t be the next leader of the opposition because she dresses like a blind ape throwing clothes around in a Primark. It’s really quite disheartening, Widow.”

“Absolutely, and all very relevant and indeed current examples you gave there,” Widow agreed enthusiastically. “So what sort of effect does this then have on women in politics- in fact, let me revise that. What sort of effect does this then have on women in general?”

Jackie paused to think over the question. “Well, the main issue I have is how this will affect kids. The way that boys will think it’s okay to talk about girls, the way that girls will think it’s okay to talk about each other. I mean, that entire opposition leadership contest was a chance to show the country the finest example of intelligent, strong women, and to see it reduced to a mud-slinging contest over who had the best hair and makeup was really quite insulting. It might put off women who want to enter politics if they think they run the risk of being talked about by both the media and other politicians alike in such a disparaging manner which has nothing to do with their policies at all.”

Widow nodded understandingly before asking the next question. “So going forward then- what would you personally like to see done to tackle this sort of behaviour from the media?”

“Well, I’d like a great big hamper and an apology from the Daily Mail,” Jackie joked, earning a genuine laugh from Widow. “No, in all seriousness, I’d just like them to think about what language they use. Today for example, the wording of that headline was just…it actually did leave me lost for words because it was blatant homophobia used in plain view of the public. A lot of the problem with the way things are reported is the language used to do so, so just that little bit more scrutiny can go a long way. This isn’t even just an issue exclusive to homophobia and sexism, often there’s so much language that’s shockingly racist or just plain bigoted too. Another thing I think everyone in politics should do is call media outlets out about things like this. I’m not saying women from opposing parties suddenly have to be the best of friends but if you notice someone else getting spoken about in such a way that’s degrading to women, even just fire off a simple tweet about it. Stuff like that gets noticed and if we all act together, it’ll eventually combat this kind of reporting in the media.”

Widow smiled and gave a sort of conclusive nod. “Jackie Cox- thank you.”

Vanessa almost leapt out of her chair with excitement. “Guys! That went so well! That couldn’t have gone any better at all! Right, Bianca?”

“She was certainly very eloquent. And she managed to smear the opposition without even noticing, I think. A win on both counts in my book,” Bianca gave a rare genuine smile, now immediately on her phone. Looking up, she nodded to everyone. “Right, my work here is done and so, I guess, is yours. You can all fuck off home if you like.”

Shrugging, Bianca turned around and made her way out of the department. Saying a quick goodbye Nina, Adore and Jaida all left to pack up their things too, leaving Scarlet, Yvie, Vanessa and Brooke all huddled around the TV. For a moment they were all silent, too tired or relieved to even speak. After a few seconds, Yvie broke the silence.

“Right. Pub?”

***

The bar was dimly lit, hues of red from the filtered lights giving a small amount of illumination to the corner that the girls had curled up in. Scarlet and Yvie were on the sofa against the wall, Yvie’s arm slung around her girlfriend’s skinny frame. Scarlet kept stifling yawns, indicating that she was flagging after their stressful day. Vanessa was their polar opposite, re-telling the story of Jackie’s interview with Shangela animatedly and frantically waving her arms. Jan had joined them and she was sat on the other sofa beside Brooke, smiling with amusement at Vanessa’s tipsy story-telling. Silky sounded as if her lungs were about to give out from laughter, her vodka cranberry swaying dangerously in her grip.

Silky was actually alright, Brooke mused. She was loud and crazy and talked more than she listened but as a mutual friend on a night out she wasn’t horrible. She’d greeted Brooke warmly enough, the two only having spoken briefly before tonight. Maybe Vanessa had been right. Silky just seemed like a standard working girl just trying to make it through to the weekend, who incidentally seemed pretty comfortable bitching about her boss and her other colleagues.

As Vanessa finished off her story, Silky took a long sip of her drink and leant back in her chair. “Good for Jackie, bitch! The Daily Mail needs taking down a peg or two anyway, it’s the fuckin’ worst. Between us girls, though? I would look out for your boss. Nicky is shook. She was not happy with Jackie’s lil’ dig at her in that interview and I feel like there might be some kinda storm brewing.”

Brooke and Vanessa shared a brief, concerned glance. Turning to Jan, Brooke noticed that she looked fearful and had reached out to grab Silky’s arm.

“Wait, what’s she planning?” Jan asked, clearly nervous. Silky simply raised her eyebrows, picking up her whiskey and swirling it around in her hand.

“Well hell, girl! I’d be damned if I know, I’m a civil servant! Do you think they tell me anything? Do they tell you anything?” she turned to Yvie and Scarlet, questioning her ruling party counterparts. Yvie let out a derisive laugh as an answer while Scarlet gave a sleepy shake of her head, clearly a hair’s breadth away from sleep or death (Brooke couldn’t tell which). Satisfied with their answer, Silky simply cast a hand to Brooke’s two colleagues and held it there, clearly satisfied at having made her point.

“If you hear anything though, Silk,” Vanessa insisted, knitting her brows together. Her friend simply cut her off before she could finish.

“Of course I’ll let you know. I am, after all, the ruling party’s unofficial corporate spy. Y’all can thank me later.”

Yvie and Scarlet clapped appreciatively and Silky gave a little bow. Brooke was still troubled by what she had told them, though. If the opposition did have a plan things probably weren’t looking good for the week ahead, least of all if Bob was behind it. Even if she was known as “the less savage Bianca”, Bob was cunning and sly and could wreak some severe havoc across the party. Having been the party’s spin doctor for some years now, she knew every trick in the book and paired with Nicky, her scheming advisors, and Asia (Nina’s opposite number), there certainly could be some amount of shitstorm brewing.

Some form of compere had taken to the “stage” beside the bar (a single dim halogen light, a microphone and one speaker) and was announcing the start of an open mic night. Silky’s face lit up excitedly as she leapt up from her chair, only to be immediately shoved back down again by Yvie.

“For the millionth time, you’re not doing an acoustic Whitney Houston greatest hits medley,” she said with a long-suffering shake of her head. A scraggy sort of guy with a long beard took to the spotlight.

“My name is Alex, and this one is called Wonderwall.”

Brooke’s entire table groaned.

“Fuck me senseless. I’m going for a cigarette,” Yvie announced, hurriedly escaping the bar.

“I’ll join you,” Brooke shrugged, the prospect of social smoking preferable to sitting through the inevitable dirge that was to come.

Bursting the door open and gasping a little as the cold air hit her bare arms, Brooke leant against the cold brick wall and sighed deeply. Lighting up, Yvie looked at her with a funny sort of smile.

“What?” Brooke asked.

“Nothing. Just wondering when you’re planning on telling Vanessa about that huge teen girl crush you have on her.”

Brooke’s insides dropped about 50 metres to the ground. Was it really that obvious? No- no, it couldn’t be obvious, because her so-called crush didn’t exist. What gave Yvie the right? She was jumping to stupid conclusions and just because she and Scarlet were happy together didn’t mean that love was all around them like some fucking Wet, Wet, Wet song. Keeping her face blank, Brooke simply looked Yvie in the eyes.

“The crush that doesn’t exist? Yeah I’m telling her tomorrow, we’ve got an appointment at 4.”

“Brooke, come on. You think I don’t recognise that behaviour? You look at her like you want to protect her, whenever she makes a joke you’re the first to laugh. You care about her more than anyone else, you’re more patient with her than you are with any of us. Whenever anything goes down at work, you’re the first to make sure she’s okay. Just admit it. You’ll feel better.”

“Yvie, I know it might be hard for you to get your head round and I know you can barely see because of the fucking hearts blocking the way of your pupils…but I’m not interested in Vanessa,” Brooke scowled. For a second she regretted it. Yvie was clearly only trying to help, but what exactly was she going to do? Brooke wasn’t about to ruin things with Vanessa or ruin the atmosphere in the workplace by admitting that…admitting what? There was nothing to admit.

Smirking, Yvie stubbed out her cigarette on the wall and dropped it to the ground. “Alright, well. Keep telling yourself that. See how far it gets you.”

As she walked back inside, Brooke instead tipped her head back against the cold, damp bricks and exhaled shakily. She was doing fine on her own, she didn’t need anyone, but the more Brooke thought about it the more she considered the differences between need and want. Every thought she had seemed to be followed up by Yvie’s voice, now warped and mocking in her head. Keep telling yourself that. Tearing a hand through her hair Brooke looked up to the dark sky, feeling momentarily like she wanted to pray.

Instead, she turned and walked back inside the bar.

Returning to her seat, she found the girls all laughing uproariously at something Silky had said. She was still talking, all excited and hyped up, and even though she commanded the attention of everyone at the table Brooke still found her eyes being drawn to Vanessa, Yvie’s words playing in her mind. She was smiling at Silky; the glitter dusted onto her cheekbones, the shine of her hair, and the gloss on her lips catching the light. She looked happy and carefree and gorgeous. Just then, Vanessa’s gaze was on her, and Brooke was caught having been looking at her first. Snapping her gaze to the floor, Brooke felt around the table for her vodka and coke and gripped it with one white-knuckled hand. Feeling her heart race inside her chest and wiping the sweat away from one hand on her leggings, two things became clearer to Brooke than ever before.

Yvie was right, and she was completely and utterly fucked.

[blackestnight]

13: steady hand

Prompt: Wax

Word count: 1277

Alphinaud, in true Forensics kid fashion, talks to the walls. Hanami works. Aymeric is mushy. WoL/Aymeric.

The night before their audience with Hraesvelgr, Hanami and Alphinaud led Aymeric to a ring of stone that they had chosen as their campsite, the ruins of a tower’s foundation offering even ground and a feeling of sanctuary, the bare rock at the edges reminiscent of a fairy circle. 

“We stayed here when we journeyed with Estinien and Ysayle,” Alphinaud had confessed, poking a fire to life with clumsy hands while Hanami wrestled tent stakes into the cracks in the pavers. Aymeric himself had been granted the title of culinarian for their journey, after he had offered his assistance in handling the meat from a bandersnatch that Hanami had killed outside of Tailfeather, and the resultant stew had been better than anything I could make, she’d said. Alphinaud had agreed, already serving himself a second bowl, though Aymeric was slightly less flattered by this, as he remembered his own atrocious eating habits at that age. While it was somewhat embarrassing to be relegated to sitting by the fire while his companions gathered kindling and cleared out the wildlife, he had always liked cooking, and he would not complain at the chance to make their evenings a little more pleasant on a hard road.

Outside of Asah, once dinner had been cleared away (made with dried meats, as not even Hanami felt like hunting with so many Horde minions nearby), Alphinaud retired to his tent, muttering arguments under his breath, and Aymeric imagined he would wear himself out rehearsing his plea to Hraesvelgr opposite the canvas. Aymeric was half-tempted to do the same--the walls of his office had made a patient, if unhelpful, conversation partner before his first session with the House of Lords--but there was an infinitely more pleasant companion still by the fire, even if she was not overly talkative, and he knew that his tent would be cold and unforgiving with the watery sunlight faded.

“May I join you?” he asked Hanami, who nodded without looking up, the pink of her hair shimmering almost orange in the firelight as she dug in her pack. While he settled on the near-fossilized log that served as a seat, she resurfaced with two small but sturdy wooden boxes and a stained rag, what had clearly once been fine blue linen streaked white at the corners. The culprit became evident when she reached for her waterskin, stuffed the linen into the neck, upended it briefly, and then raised the damp cloth to her face and began to scrub away the paint around her eyes.

Aymeric turned away, training his gaze instead on the towering swirls of Zenith in the distance, the spires cold and immaculate and so like a church he could almost envision his ancestors a thousand years dead going about their lives, in peaceful toil and earnest worship. Better to think on the ancient past and the distant future than on the present, on the twisting in his gut at having witnessed such a private ritual.

He was being ridiculous. It was makeup, and he had seen her in disarray with white smeared across her brow or cracking away from her skin on some half-dozen occasions, because she was an adventurer and a warrior and not even the realm’s finest cosmetics could stand up to the sweat of a day’s hard fighting. But to see her remove such a literal facade--

Ridiculous. Aymeric was mooning like a schoolboy, driven to distraction over face paint. He sighed, patience with himself wearing thin, and behind him he heard the clink and rattle of metal.

The sound pulled him from his reverie, and he looked back to see Hanami bent low over the larger of the two boxes, the rag now spread over her lap with a long roll of deep green--was that wax?--resting in the middle. She pulled out a tiny silver saw, no bigger than Aymeric’s little finger, and cut off a sliver of the wax, perhaps three or four ilms long. She set aside the little saw and retrieved a knife, and while he watched she began mercilessly cutting away chunks of the wax, tapering the ends of her little rod.

Focused as she was, Aymeric did not want to ask what she was doing, but she turned her head to glance at him--her eyes were even more striking than normal, without the paint, bright like a physical shock in the falling night--and said, “I learned in Ul’dah. It is called lost wax casting. For making jewelry.”

Aymeric leaned forward to watch her as she worked, no longer willing to pretend at distraction. “I cannot say I am familiar.”

Hanami shrugged. “It is not popular. Harder to make settings for gems. But it is easy to take with me. I like to work if I cannot sleep.” 

The wax in her hands was much narrower at the top, now, and it was beginning to take on a serpentine curve, the deep jade color looking nearly liquid in the firelight. “Handeloup had mentioned to me that you had reached out to the moogles, when they were searching for a craftsman. I had never thought to see you work myself.”

Hanami set the little carving knife down, raising the wax to blow away a stubborn sliver while she reached out with her other hand and picked up the smaller of the two boxes, which she deposited at Aymeric’s knee. “Here. These are done. Please do not touch them, though. Fingerprints are hard to fix.”

Obediently, Aymeric picked up the box, shocked at how cool it was to the touch--perhaps there were ice shards sewn into the satin lining, which pillowed a handful of little jade carvings. He tilted the box toward the fire, the better to look at them; there was a ring, with what looked like flower petals overlapping each other until they clustered around the spot where a stone could be set, and a set of filigree ornaments shaped like licking tongues of fire. Beautiful and detailed, unlike anything he had seen in the stalls of the Crozier.

“These are masterworks,” he said, and set the box down safely, before he could do something stupid like drop it and ruin what must have been days’ worth of hard work. “You said you plan to cast them in metal?”

Hanami hummed, leaning forward to hold her new project closer to the fire, then smoothed her finger over the softened wax. “Plaster first. Then melt the wax out and use what is left as a mold.” She made a series of miniscule cuts along an outer curve, then wedged her fingernail underneath and pulled out even smaller ridges of wax. Her lips parted as she worked, only half listening and more talkative than Aymeric had heard her in weeks.

“Are these for commissions?” The tiny fire patterns seemed to be ornamentation meant for some larger project, though he couldn’t begin to imagine what for. 

She grunted. “Some. Some are just for me. Carving is my favorite part.” She raised the wax she was working on now, framing it against the sky, and glanced at Aymeric. “I think I will make this one an earring. A dragon.”

“Fitting,” Aymeric said. The light had burnished her skin, cast her in bronze, with chips of crystal for eyes and living silver flame for hair, where the fire fought the moon for the honor of casting light on her. “A personal project, then?”

Hanami hummed, and the curve of her mouth settled in a tiny, contented smile. “A gift, maybe,” she said, and reached out to rest her wrist against the collar of his shirt, tapping the fire-warmed wax against his own ear.

[ask-secretagentsquad]

Revelation

((HEY boys so this next writing was actually not done by Me, as you’ll quickly realize. This bit was actually done by @zonerz, who I’m sure most of you already know as the owner of our boy R!Lukas. It’s obvious this isn’t my writing Zone’s writing is probably the best I’ve ever seen ;;w;; and i can not in fact improve this much in the span of 24 hours,,, But anyways thank you SO much to Zone who took her time to write this entire thing and credit to her on the absolutely outstanding writing,,,))

The soft clinking of the small chain around Lukas’ neck is the only sound in the small room aside from the man’s own breathing. He plucks the stone hanging from the simple chain up and stares at the blue gem. It’s a sky blue with an icy tint and ever so slightly translucent. He thumbs over it’s smooth surface, staring into it with tired eyes. Things had settled down again, especially with Leader being injured, but that doesn’t mean his mind was anymore at peace. He had almost forgotten everything! He had become so engulfed in this world’s problems and just with the matter of keeping his new allies alive that he forgot…

He huffs at the notion. Allied with this world’s most feared terrorists. How is he supposed to defend himself on that one? It all happened so fast and he’s certainly too deep now to change his mind. He can’t just walk up to the CIA and say “Actually I changed my mind! I don't wanna be apart of this! Sorry!” Hell, he chuckles bittersweetly at the thought. Yet his small smile fades as his mind runs back to those agents, the source of his rekindled turmoil. 

Jesse in particular. 

Or well. This world’s Jesse. That was still such a weird concept. Yeah he’s long since known he’s existed but coming face to face with him like that? Seeing how he interacted with his friends? Hearing his voice? It was all so uncanny. So mind boggling. And it made his heart ache for home. For his Jesse. He squints in the harsh light at the blue gem. That was one of the things different about the two Jesses; the eyes. Sure there were a few other differences but the eyes were striking. This world’s Jesse, the agent, had dark but soft brown eyes. The eyes Lukas had grown used to were a sharp icy blue, with a scar over one of them. That was another thing! Seeing his face without such a defining feature. It was odd to say the least! Almost felt like he was seeing something he shouldn’t have. Like he was caught peeping on something private like some sort of schoolboy.

Lukas sighs, frowning at himself, suddenly frustrated. How could he have forgotten everything so easily? Forgotten what he was here to do? Who he needed to help? It was a good wake up call but certainly one that brings a new dilemma. He drops the necklace back down onto his chest and blows out a frustrated sigh before groaning and rubbing his eyes with his palms. 

Saying he was surprised at the small knock on the metal door would be an understatement. Lukas’s eyes widen and he shoots up, stuttering and stumbling over his own words at the mere surprise. He hastily shoves the necklace and chain back into his t-shirt.

“Y-Yeah?? I-Is something up? What’s going--”

Lukas moves to get up but immediately freezes in his place at the sight of Orion.

“...--on.” He loses steam, the tension visibly rushing out of his shoulders. Orion quietly holds up a hand, signaling that nothing is especially wrong. At least, not more so than usual. Lukas can only blow out a sigh and drop back down on the bunk before his gaze drops to the floor. He hears something akin to a sigh come from Orion as the bulky man wanders over. He drops onto the bunk beside Lukas and Lukas notes the hitches in his breath he tries to hide as he does. He’s still injured. Lukas frowns and sits up straight, hands ready to scold him in sign once more about not taking care of himself, but he finds himself frozen once again. He meets Orion’s gaze unexpectedly, but it’s not a hard glare, but rather one that shines with concern. He fumbles—shocked—and isn’t pulled out of his state until he feels the man’s gentle hand squeeze his shoulder ever so slightly. 

He drops his hands and waits, not really sure where Orion intends to go with this. The man before him nods a bit and straightens, wincing a bit as he does so. He’s a notable mess. Lukas mentally tallies all of the different cuts, bumps, scrapes and bruises just to start. There’s already so much and he hasn’t even dared think about all of the internal damage this man has going on. 

‘What’s wrong?’ He signs. Simple and to the point. Lukas rubs his neck, debating with himself. After a second he shrugs. He signs back.

‘Stressed is all. Thinking too much, the usual.’ He pauses then continues, ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Truly, I’m—‘ Lukas is cut off by his hands being caught by Orion’s. He blinks, dumbfounded before nervously looking up to the Leader. Orion simply shakes his head, his grip easing up. He lets go of one hand and tentatively pulls out the necklace from under Lukas’s t-shirt. He holds it up clearly in both’s line of sight, a stern gaze looking from the gem to Lukas. Lukas can barely look him in the eye. Orion nods. He figured something else was working in the blonde’s head. Dropping the necklace he pulls back and crosses his arms. He’s waiting for some sort of answer, and Lukas knows he’s certainly not gonna get out of giving him one.

Lukas sucks in a breath, stares at his hands for a few moments, then nods to himself. However, just as he goes to sign, Orion gently catches his hands once again. Lukas blinks, raising a brow, not knowing what this guy wants of him anymore. Orion lets go and lightheartedly rolls his eyes.

‘Use your voice. Speak. It’ll be easier for the both of us.’

Lukas hesitates for a second but eventually nods.

“Right… I guess I never really gave you details about this thing.” Lukas forces a halfhearted chuckle as he stares down at his necklace. He goes quiet again however, lips pursed tight as he debates in his head. Orion watches and waits patiently as Lukas fiddles with the gem once more. He continues, “I guess I’ve just been overwhelmed, dizzied by so much happening. I… I forgot what I was doing here, why I ran into your world in the first place. I didn’t intend to come here you know…” Lukas pauses and looks up at Orion.

Orion nods in understanding. Lukas nods to himself.

“I’ve already mentioned the state my home is in. You already know who’s got his greasy hands on it.” Lukas spits, “But um… I never fully explained why I left. Or, well, how I was chased out.” He laughs a bit and Orion leans forward slightly, curiosity admittedly piqued. A ghost of a smile crosses Lukas’ features as he holds up the necklace. “This isn’t truly mine.” He says almost slyly. “Months ago now, when this whole fiasco was just getting started this was given to me by a friend. My Jesse. I… I remember our groups were splitting off after dealing with this weird ice castle obstacle course..” He rolls his eyes, “One of Romeo’s little tests or games! But regardless I had this horribly foreboding feeling in my stomach.. I-I was scared! Concerned! Irrationally so and I didn’t even know why!” 

A small huff of understanding comes from Orion. Lukas shrugs sadly. Guess they know why now.

“I was part of the group that was supposed to head back to town, Jesse wanted me to escort them back. Make sure everyone was safe and all, you know the drill. But I couldn’t shake that bad feeling! So I told him. I told him, and I warned him and I wish I had done more…” He clutches the gem tight, shaking his head as he seems to choke on his own words. “He gave me this to soothe my nerves.” He laughs, a bitterness shining in his eyes as he does, “Assurance, it was! I remember he told me with that stupidly sweet grin of his, ‘When I see you again… The very first thing I will ask for is my necklace back! It’ll be our little secret code!’” He huffs, “Of course, if it had worked out so simply I wouldn’t be here right now. Nonetheless here with the necklace.”

‘What happened?’ Orion signs calmly. Lukas shrugs.

“I’m… I wish I knew myself. I escorted the others back to town without a hitch. I stuck around for a little bit but was way more tired than I thought I’d be. The people in town gave me a pass and said Jesse wouldn’t probably be able to talk until the next day anyways with all the cleanup that needed done. So I went home, slept, and came back later and…” He frowns, cloudy eyes squinting off into the metal walls as he searches for a way to describe it. His tone becomes serious when he speaks again, voice quieter. “I knew something was wrong when I got back into town… Call it what you will, but it was true. Regardless, I went to go see Jesse and return this to him. Then when I got there—…”

‘He wasn’t there?’

“Worse.”

‘Worse?’

Lukas nods. “He was there but it wasn’t him. I was a bit offput initially so all I did was kinda pull out the necklace to show it to him, see if he asked about it. It was supposed to be the first thing he asked from me! But instead that maniac played himself by not knowing what it was.”

‘You’ve been thinking about this because of your run in with the Agent.’ He signs. Lukas catches it and nods.

“Yeah… I knew I’d run into him sooner or later but it still affected me..” He huffs, staring aimlessly into the gemstone. Orion nods slowly. He snaps lightly to pull Lukas’ attention back.

‘Spitting image?’

Lukas pauses. He takes time to ponder it, which strikes Orion as interesting to say the least. Finally, he shakes his head.

“Very close but not quite… The eyes. The eyes are different…” He smiles a bit, “Here.” He holds the gemstone up to Orion who curiously takes it in his hand. He studies it a moment before looking back to Lukas. The young man nods. “His eyes are about the same color. I guess that’s why I can’t help but stare at it so much when I’m stressed. Reminds me of him… It’s uh.. Comforting.”

Orion makes a note of the bright color before finally letting the necklace hang back down around Lukas’s neck. Interesting. He wonders what else may be different between those two men. He hadn’t really considered physical differences since his Lukas and the Agent were so closely similar. But nonetheless, that’ll have to be something he can ponder on his own later. He focuses back in on Lukas as he continues his vent.

“I was the first person who figured the ‘Jesse’ in town wasn’t our Jesse. But no one believed me! They would rather just stay in their own safe little bubbles than think about such a thing! It’s easier for them! They don’t have to see and talk to Jesse every goddamn day! I still can’t believe they’re in such denial when Jesse is in trouble! I-I haven’t even seen head or tail of Petra, Jack or Radar since then either!” Lukas’s hands shake as he holds up fingers with each person he names. “Jesse is fucking counting on us! And they’re just sitting around praying that this thing will just fix itself!” He clenches his fists batting his own legs in absence of anything else. “Long story short, Jesse’s stuck in one of these worlds, one that’s cut off from the portal hall. A-And at this point it’s either I find a way to get him out of there, he finds a way, or we both die and our home and his legacy is absolutely RUINED because of one selfish, maniacal bastard!” He yells, dropping his head into his hands as his shoulders begin to shudder. 

Orion is taken by slight surprise at the sudden outburst but nonetheless moves to reassure him. He gently rubs his brother’s back, staying right with him. He had figured something was bothering Lukas, but he hadn’t realized it was eating at him like this. Lukas stammers out a few apologies under his breath, trying to suck it up and pull himself together quickly. He didn’t intend to be such a mess. Eventually he at least turns his head enough to be seen. Orion meets his gaze, brow raised in a ‘You good?’ look. Lukas weakly laughs under his breath before shaking his head.

“I’m running out of time Orion… I’ve been gone so long, and so has Jesse. I don’t know how much longer he can stand being alone…” Lukas murmurs, sucking in a shaky breath before rubbing his eyes and face. His voice breaks as he continues, “A-And I’m the only one who has an idea of what’s going on! The only other people who might know are MIA or they’re Jesse himself and I-I’m just… I’m so scared… Everyone’s counting on me finishing this whether they know it or not. I-If I die I--”

That’s where Orion stops him. He quickly clamps both his hands down atop of Lukas’s and meets him in the eyes. Lukas sits up in surprise, eyes wide. Orion squeezes his hands in reassurance and stares at him sternly. He sits like that for a moment, allowing the look to sink in before gently letting go and moving to sign to him. 

‘Nothing like that is going to happen to you.’

“But--”

Orion shoots up a hand, immediately hushing Lukas. His typical air of stubbornness surrounds him again and he blows out a breath through his nose. He keeps Lukas’s attention locked.

‘Exactly what I said. I will not let anything like that happen to you, L. Not you, T or R. Do you understand?’ Orion eases up as he signs the last question, his eyes becoming soft once more. Lukas bites his tongue and simply nods. Tears sting the edges of his eyes as he does. Orion nods slowly. ‘Good.’ He hesitates a moment but gives Lukas’s arm a comforting squeeze. Lukas smiles at the gesture and one with keen eyesight could notice Orion’s own eyes twinkle at the sight.