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fyeah-bangtan7 · 3 years ago

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V: “I have a desire to perfect one cool thing about myself”

As he’s being interviewed, V speaks his mind at a relaxed pace. But there was one moment where he kept on speaking without taking a breath. Look for that moment in the interview below. You listen to a lot of old music on vinyl. Has any particular artist’s music excited you since your last interview with Weverse Magazine? V: I was listening to Louis Armstrong’s music again. And I picked up some albums with a pretty jacket that’s also got a lot of really good hits on it.

How do you feel when you’re listening to those classics? V: I feel like I’m beginning to relax a bit. If I listen to a song when I’m feeling depressed and then really get thinking, the things that are frustrating me disappear, and I can feel myself becoming more peaceful. And it makes me picture things in my head. For example, some songs might make me think of seeing something in front of me while walking down the road somewhere at night when I listen to them. I think setting the mood for listeners is the most important thing. The mood will presumably be different for everyone, but for me, those songs are the ones that are good at setting a really beautiful mood in the moment.

You said that you got inspiration from artists of the past like Sammy Davis Jr. for your performance in “Dynamite.” Was there any artist who inspired you for “Butter”? V: Well, there was Billy Joel. When I shoot a music video, I think of a movie more than any one artist. And when I perform on stage, for some songs I think of the way movies like Reservoir Dogs look. For “Butter,” I watched a lot of teen movies. And musicals. After that I randomly ended up seeing a video on YouTube of some scenes from an old teen movie Johnny Depp did [which turned out to be the movie Cry-Baby]. The image I got from that was really intense. That’s the look I used in “Butter.”

“Butter” felt like a teen musical to me and now I know why. V: I did it like a teen musical, just like you say. When we shot the “Butter” music video, I really, really tried to shoot the part in the elevator so it would feel like a teen movie. Although a lot of takes were edited, so not all of it’s there. (laughs)

What kind of feeling do you get from that kind of teen movie that you find so charming? V: For me, teen movies show a youthfulness that’s appropriate for the age. I think there’s an appropriate mix of emotion, energy, and a completely different and peculiar mood that everyone necessarily experiences at that age. If you watch teen movies, they’re overflowing with energy and full of sunny emotion, but behind it all they’re not as bright as they seem. They are really bright, but the color itself almost feels like some kind of filter. They feel like they have a different filter than other movies, so I tried thinking of teen movies when we shot the music video and put on performances.

That teen movie feeling seems to be divided in two between “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.” By the looks of the thumbnails for the fancam focus videos uploaded to the BANGTANTV YouTube channel, “Butter” seems to showcase a really cool character, while “Permission to Dance” is more teenagers smiling brightly for children. V: The teen movie vibe in “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” are different from one another. We showed the sunny image people usually think of when they think of teen movies in “Permission to Dance.”

Do you think that going with the teen movie vibe influenced your vocals to be the new style that you used? In “Butter,” you still had your signature vocals but without the deep notes, giving them a new feeling. V: That’s because, when we’re given a concept, we have to come up with vocals that fit with the concept. I think my singing style matched up with the concept, so I feel relatively satisfied. There was nothing majorly difficult about actually changing the style itself, since unlike changing your voice, you only have to change your vocal technique. Having said that, even though the notes in “Butter” were high for me, I still hit them! (laughs)

I guess hitting the high notes was your assignment this time around as a vocalist. V: I’ve been working a long time to make up for my weak points. For example, I thought I was weak when it comes to high notes because I sing low parts a lot and I tend to sing in a flowing way. But I had trouble when we were recording “Dynamite” and I had to sing the high notes during the chorus. I got so mad (laughs) so I practiced a lot.

How does it feel to see the results you’re seeing with “Butter” now after all that effort? V: I’m just trying not to rest on my laurels. Like instead of savoring the feeling, I feel like I should go to bed early for everything I have to do the next day? Getting back in tiptop shape quickly is what’s important, so I haven’t really had time to bask in the joy very much. I’m just working hard at the work I had like I always do.In your

New Year’s greeting on YouTube, you said you regretted not being able to put on the show for ARMY you wanted, and that your 2021 resolution is to “follow my own pace and pattern” when you work on music. Do you think your personal pace and your professional pace are in step this year? V: No. [My professional pace is] fast, so fast. (laughs) We have a lot we have to get ready for since we’re always promoting. It can be challenging sometimes, but in a way, I think it’s also given me a good opportunity to become a little stronger.

I imagine it’s meaningful to do the work for your own songs, because you can slip into your own world. You also made “Blue & Grey” when you were having a hard time, and it consequently became a song that allowed you to empathize with many people and vice versa. Looking back now, what kind of song do you think “Blue & Grey” will be remembered as? V: I think with “Blue & Grey” I just wanted the song to let people know how I was feeling, and how we were feeling, at that time a little better. Obviously everyone was having a hard time, but I think I wanted to share those emotions with ARMY as-is, including the pains we went through in our growth process. And, to put it another way, I think I just felt like making it obvious. (laughs) I thought it was okay to be that obvious, seeing as I couldn’t put those feelings into words. I just hope people could understand how I was feeling; it’s okay if it becomes forgotten later on.

In the “BE-hind Story” interview on YouTube, you talked about the first line of “Blue & Grey”: “Where is my angel?” You explained how, when you have any kind of issue, you close your eyes and wish for your angel to come and think. Are there times when it seems like your angel understands your feelings, as you just mentioned? V: I get a ton of answers by doing it. I’m not religious, but whenever I have some kind of issue, I close my eyes and think about it. Is this right, the way I’m thinking about this, or not? They’re just yes or no questions, like, Does my outfit look good today? Instead of just worrying about what you should do, if you tackle it in the form of a question, you get a response with the answer.

I guess it could work when you’re looking for inspiration in your life, but what about for your music? In your previous Weverse Magazine interview, you said you make a note whenever you feel something. V: I write in my diary in hopes that it’ll help with writing lyrics and so I don’t forget those feelings. I do it constantly—I open up my diary whenever something comes up. I copy melodies that pop up in my mind, lyrics, and other things from my diary to my notes app temporarily, and when I’m taking a break or I get the urge to work, I open my notes and say, Let’s try this out today, and run over to the studio.

You released “Snow Flower,” featuring Peakboy by V, on Christmas Day. Is that another song you ran to the studio to work on after the feeling came to you? V: For that song, when I was drinking with some older musicians, we were talking about doing a song together, and then we were like, Well, do you think we’ll have time to do that? So we decided to do it right then since everyone was available. My mixtape was delayed, so I at least wanted to play a different song for ARMY, and I thought, since I’m a bit tipsy (laughs) I thought I should try writing something. So I made the song really quickly. In maybe three hours.

Even though you made it quickly, the composition is somewhat complex and it has the same unique atmosphere that “Blue & Grey” did. V: There’s times when I’m, like, in the zone (laughs) and can make a song all in one sitting, but when I’m not feeling it, I end up revising it more and more. And I don’t want the composition to be too obvious, so I try to change up the way the melody flows. With that kind of sharp image coming to you almost immediately, what were you imagining for that song? V: You might think “Snow Flower” is about a type of snowflake, but I was actually thinking about snow and flowers separately. I started hoping that flowers wouldn’t wither away and just keep on blooming on snowy days. But in reality, when it snowed, all the flowers were crushed, the world became blanketed in snow, and I felt like the flower buds turned into snow flowers. I wrote that song about how I felt after watching that happen.

It must be important to feel things intuitively when you’re trying to express yourself through song. V: If it sounds pretty to me: approved. (laughs)

On the other hand, as a member of BTS, you have a job where you have to deal with a packed schedule and keep various situations in mind. How does that make you feel? When you celebrated your Billboard Hot 100 win on V LIVE and the topic of your clothes came up, you joked that you wore them to give off an idol vibe. V: It’s fun. It’s fun, but I could also say it’s hard. The performances are fun. I think idols should shine in a way that’s suitable for their age, and it’s important to do lots of things for fans like ARMY. Not just performances, but also posting pictures, having conversations on social media, making content. We’re artists and idols, so we think each and every one of those things is important. That sentiment won’t change just because we’ve achieved so much success.

You recently held an impromptu event on Weverse for ARMY. V: I’m sure there’s lots of ARMY out there who are tired of not being able to see us in person. But since the only thing we can do for them is to be on stage and stuff, I was worried that we’re not doing enough for them. And I love being able to talk with ARMY so much that now it’s like a habit that I read their posts. I have a thing today. I have a test today. I’m moving today. Somehow I feel better when I hear their stories. When I end up reading things like about how ARMY are living or what kind of lives ARMY have, I can’t help but write a response, and because of that ARMY respond, so I try to become friendlier in a more fun way, too. I want us to be more than the Billboard number one Bangtanies—I want to be ARMY’s partner, their best friend, the friend who’s always by their side when we’re not on stage. It feels like business when I talk about communicating with ARMY. (laughs) I just want to talk with a close friend. I wanna talk with a close friend—that’s exactly how I feel. It’s been a long time since I could see my friend, ARMY. Usually when friends can’t see each other they keep in touch all the time. I can talk about all kinds of things like that with ARMY thanks to the Weverse platform, and because I can hear all about their lives, I think I was able to go on Weverse and hold that kind of event.

You’ve been talking about ARMY nonstop for a few minutes. I was going to ask you how you feel about ARMY, but I think you already answered the question. (laughs) V: They’re just, well, friends I would hate to lose. Friends who seriously give me strength whenever they’re around. Sometimes you find friends like that in life. It’s like that with the other members, and I have other friends who I can share my feelings with. And I have ARMY. So I can’t help but do whatever I can do to make those people smile and make them feel happy.

Well then, is there a song you’ve heard that you want to let ARMY know about? A song that shares your feelings. V: Umm, recently … “No. 1 Party Anthem” by Arctic Monkeys. When I hear that song … I get emotional, somehow. I don’t usually listen to a lot of rock music, but I can instantly feel the band’s emotions with that song. I seriously get goosebumps listening to it, and emotional, and just all kinds of feelings. It’s to the point that, as soon as I hear that song, I think about how I really want to live well.

That song really means a lot to you. V: Actually, I don’t really know what’s up with that song. I don’t even know the lyrics, but I’m quite clear on what sort of emotions the melody and the band’s performance give me.

Don’t you feel like that’s an emotion you want to express to people, as an artist? Like you don’t have to explain your messages in detail? V: I don’t know. I just want to exchange the good, and be the one to embrace the bad. So I have a desire to perfect one cool thing about myself.

So how close do you think you are right now to becoming an artist who has perfected something cool? V: I’ll say 2%. It’ll go up someday later. (laughs)

#bangtan #v #m:weverse magazine #210729

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tllthesundies · 4 years ago

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Anonymous said:

hi! i love the entertainment fic :) can you please write the part when they are celebrating louis’ birthday together, from harry’s pov?

–––––––

Harry hears the front door open, then close.

He remains indifferent as he stirs the small pot with pesto sauce in it to keep it from burning. He, also, keeps his eye on the boiling noodles in the bigger pot. But he’s listening to Louis’s footsteps and the jingling of keys in his pocket.

“Okay, rockstar,” he hears Louis’s voice, becoming louder the closer he approaches. “I know I take care of everything, and I recognise that you live in the middle of no man’s land, but I didn't actually think I'd have to include a lesson plan on keeping your doors locked. Things happen, even out here.” He pauses, and although Harry keeps his vision on the food, he sees Louis in his peripheral lean against the counter beside him. He’s wearing his jean jacket, some grey band t-shirt on underneath, and pairing it with boyfriend jeans. “I mean, it's California.” Harry can’t help sparing him a brief look, anyhow, quirking an eyebrow as he stirs the pesto. He doesn't respond to Louis. Louis watches for a moment before pushing himself away from the counter to instead lean his hip against it. He sighs. “What are you doing?”

“Making dinner,” quietly and casually replies Harry. He turns the heat for the spaghetti off. “I thought we could eat while we plan. Are you hungry?”

Louis nods.

“Haven't had anything since lunch.”

Harry glances back at a cabinet somewhere behind Louis and points to it. “Do you mind grabbing plates for us and setting the table? They're in that cabinet.”

“Yeah, sure.” When Louis disappears, Harry takes the pot to drain the noodles. “Do you want a specific colour?” he decides to ask Harry.

“Um,” hums Harry over the sound of pouring hot water and wet noodles being dumped into a strainer. “Honestly? I'm feeling teal.”

As Harry finishes draining the noodles, pours pesto sauce on them and mixes them, and finishes the vegetables, he glances repeatedly, briefly, at Louis. He sees him with teal and olive green plates and sets them up on Harry’s table. He, also, tries offering help, but Harry shuts him down immediately, each time, and sends him to just sit at the table. His hands shake just a little bit when he puts each food back into their respective pots–the ends of his nerves are on burning ice and he can’t make himself look at Louis for very long, if at all. He’s just on edge for the truth he hasn’t told him, but he takes a silent breath to clear his head.

“Most of everything,” Harry says, after he’s set everything on the table and gently plops into the seat beside Louis.

Louis blinks up at him.

“What?”

Spooning noodles onto his plate carefully, Harry repeats, “Most. You take care of most things.” He offers the spoon to Louis with a small smirk ghosting his lips.

Louis breathes out a soft chuckle, taking the utensil from Harry.

He shakes his head in reply.

He waits until everything is on their plates to take off his jean jacket. Harry watches him remove paper from inside a pocket, then hangs it on the back of his chair. Louis unfolds it, glancing up at him. “I don't know what you've got planned,” he begins, “or anything, but I made a list, anyway, to help jumpstart ideas. You know Calista, so, I kind of presume you know what she likes. But—just in case.”

Tentatively, Harry takes the list Louis gives him. He swallows as invisible as possible, and his eyes roam over all of the ideas Louis’s written down: Frozen themed - extremely popular concept still; Pink strawberry theme; Typical animal zoo theme; the birthday party concepts keep going on and on, and the longer Harry continues reading the list, the more those icy ends of his nerves burn more. It becomes overwhelming for his chest, and–he has to tell the truth. There’s too much devotion and dedication in this list to keep his façade going. Leaning back into his chair, he finally gathers the courage to look at Louis, and says, “This list isn’t going to be useful. Don't be mad at me.” Eyebrows narrowing, a puzzled look comes across Louis’s face. “I lied to you.”

The fork in Louis’ hand halts.

He blinks slowly at Harry.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “Why am I here, then?”

For a split second, Harry’s confidence wavers. There’s a hesitancy he can’t help having, and one he’s not used to controlling – and as observant as Louis is, he probably sees the moment he wavers. And the controlling side of Harry hates that possibility. But he looks Louis directly in the eye, runs a hand through his hair, and speaks in a quiet voice. “It’s your birthday in just a few days. I—I wanted to . . . give you some kind of celebration to show my”–the words continue getting stuck in his throat; he has to spit them out, to warm them up–“. . . appreciation for everything you’ve done.” He pauses, to gauge Louis’s reaction. He looks–unsure; wondering; still confused, albeit a little more understanding. “Look, I’m not the best at, uh—expressing my feelings for people. Not that I have feelings. But”—he rubs an eye with his knuckle, becoming frustrated with himself—“you know what I mean.”

He took Rachel’s advice, but maybe he went too far this time. He lied to get Louis to agree to this. He lied because he didn’t know any other way to go about this. He doesn’t know how to just–outright ask someone such a simple thing like hey, I want to celebrate your birthday, would you like to come over? And it’s far more awkward because he purposely hasn’t been the most pleasant to the exact person he wants to celebrate.

He’s trying.

Probably in his own twisted way, but he’s trying.

And the silence from Louis stretches for far too long – to the point Harry gets uncomfortable. But he doesn’t show it.

“I don’t know what to say,” Louis says, after some time, words just above a whisper.

“Say nothing,” Harry chooses for him. “Consider this a . . . I recognise your hard work, Louis. You’re always on time, prepared, and organised. I’ve never had to tell you how to do your job, and that takes a lot of pressure off of me. So, thank you.” That last part stings his throat when it comes out. But not in the wrong way. “Again, consider this a congratulatory party for two. Nothing more.”

Louis stares at him.

“How did you know?”

“Résumé,” Harry simply answers.

A small beat of silence.

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “I never put my age or date of birth on any résumé.”

“Résumé,” Harry repeats, intentionally curt.

Harry’s not going to tell him from which source he acquired the information from. He wouldn’t blow Niall’s cover like that. Niall had questioned him plenty enough when he had called him. Why do you want to know? Niall asked, even though he had already given the information to Harry. I just want to be nice, is all Harry answered with.

He wasn’t lying.

“Fine,” Louis replies cooly. “Creep.”

Harry puts on an unimpressed look, staring directly into Louis’s eyes as he chews his food. After swallowing, he says, “That’s a big accusation coming from someone I could fire.”

Louis smiles, smug.

“See, that’s the beautiful thing . . . you can’t fire me,” he retorts.

Harry shakes his head, and he fights the muscles in his face that are around his mouth that desperately are trying to lift his lips at Louis’s reply. He can’t let that happen. His mind races with other topics to bring; with other distractions.

“Listen,” Harry says, “I have a cake for you.”

“Where?”

Harry shakes his head again.

“We have to make it,” he tells him.

Louis looks cautious. “What flavour?”

“Chocolate.”

A pleasantly surprised look crosses his features. “That’s my favourite,” he says. “Lucky guess?”

“You could say that.”

Dinner continues quietly. The ends of Harry’s nerves have started to warm up, evaporating the icy burn and replacing it with a normal temperature. His heart stops beating inconsistently and begins functioning like a normal human being. However, the same icy feeling starts to show itself in Harry’s mouth; words flow uncontrollably out of his mouth. Harry’s not a talker. He knows how to talk. He knows how to respond to people, and how to maintain conversation, but he doesn’t generally start the conversations unless he has no choice. Louis looks a little amused by him, but he does his best to ignore it. He, also, tries to get Louis to talk about himself, so, that he has some semblance of control over his mouth, but it doesn’t work.

Harry notices Dolly sauntering into the kitchen in his peripheral as he loads the dishwasher. She has her mustard yellow turtleneck on still that Harry had put on her this morning, her collar matching impeccably. She comes right over to Harry and peers into the dishwasher, but Harry scratches behind her ear as a warning before gently swatting her away.

She mews loudly at him, offended, she wanders over Louis.

Harry rolls his eyes at her.

“Look what you've done,” Louis speaks up.

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he messes with the controls on the top of the dishwasher.

Snorting, Harry opens a drawer and slings a clean dish cloth over his shoulder before making his way over to Louis. “She's just mad I wanted to keep her from hurting herself,” he tells Louis. “She'll come around in ten minutes and act like it never happened.” He lifts a hand and gently caresses Dolly’s neck. But Dolly tries to hide from him by burying her face into Louis's armpit.

Louis laughs, surprised.

“Oh, no.”

Harry just puckers his lips and gives her an air kiss, and chuckles, smiling. “She always comes back.”

Louis bends his head and drops his gaze to Dolly. Harry watches the gentle way he rubs the top of her head and the rest of her body. He’s so much more familiar with her than when he had first met Dolly. He had been jumpy, a little scared. Now, they’re friends. Harry turns his head away and walks to the pantry.

“So, I've got,” Harry begins, and stops. He grabs the chocolate cake box he sees hiding on the top shelf, and stretches his arm up to get it. The matching frosting container is nearby, and he grabs it, too. He reads the back of it before continuing speaking. “Chocolate frosting. And”—he draws out the word until Louis rolls his eyes, telling him to get on with it; Harry's composure breaks, a grin breaking across his face as he stammers out his words because of his breathy laugh—“could you get the eggs out, please?”

Louis probably thinks he’s annoying.

It’s all on purpose.

Louis squats down to release Dolly from his arms. She jumps out of his grip, but remains by his feet. He washes his hands, first, then puts the eggs he retrieved from the fridge on the island.

Harry comes up beside Louis who’s reading the instructions on the back very carefully, and just dumps the oil, cake mix box, and frosting next to the eggs

Harry finds his measuring cup, and gives it to Louis to use for the oil and water. Louis asks him senseless questions; if he wants to do the eggs, et cetera. Louis has him sniff the inside of the cake mix bake to see if it smells good. It’s very chocolatey. And while he lets Louis do whatever he wants with the cake, he searches through his playlist to find music to fill the silence, so, he doesn’t have to talk too much. He finds Louis a bowl, a pan to fit the mixture into, and preheats the oven.

Harry sticks his finger in the bowl last minute, making a pop sound upon releasing his finger from between his lips.

“That’s really tasty,” he says.

Louis’s unimpressed.

“Tell me that when you get salmonella.”

“Can't wait.”

Louis shakes his head.

As they wait for the cake to fully bake, they work together cleaning all of the dirty utensils and bowls. They clean the island. Dolly stays silently crowding their feet. Harry can feel Dolly rubbing her head against his ankles, then attempts to climb onto his feet to lay down on them. Harry internally sighs.

“Look,” murmurs Louis.

Harry hears a smile reflecting in his voice.

He doesn't remove his gaze from the whisk he's washing.

“I know she's there. I'm ignoring her.”

Then it happens very fast:

Harry feels a small puddle gather on his feet and the bottom of his pants that cling to his skin. He hears Louis’s shocked laughter, but he doesn’t look at him as he breathes in a sharp breath to calm himself. Every fucking time.

“She—”

Harry's eyes close in pain. “I know. I wish I could say this hasn't happened before.”

While Louis’s still giggling and picks Dolly up from his feet, Harry excuses himself to go change his pants, then reemerges to find Louis feeding Dolly from the palm of his hand.

Louis looks over his shoulder at Harry, a single eyebrow raised.

“Better?” he asks.

“No,” Harry answers immediately. He pulls out the chair beside Louis, turns it around to sit backwards in it. He crosses his arms on the back of it, and gives Dolly an annoyed look that she ignores entirely in favour of the food she nibbles on in Louis's outstretched hand.

Still highly amused, Louis smiles, looking at Harry. “She's fine. Why'd she do that?”

“She does it when I'm absent too much” Harry explains. “In her cat mind, she thinks if she vomits on me, I'll be forced to clean up after her and take care of her. I don't know. Cats are—they have strange minds. I just think it’s only my cat because she has anxiety problems.”

Closing his parted lips, Louis shifts his gaze over to Dolly. She's trying to bite down on a hard piece she got. Harry watches them both. “Did you want to, like, watch something?” Louis asks, glancing briefly at Harry. “While the cake bakes?”

Harry nods.

“What do you have in mind?”

Shrugging, once, feebly, Louis says, “I don't know. Maybe a movie? Comedies are nice.”

Harry stands from his chair, and pushes it back in normally. “It’s your birthday; you get all the privileges of picking and holding the remote.” He walks past behind Louis and into the front room, and sits down in the left corner of his settee.

After letting Dolly tackle the last couple of pieces of her cat food into her mouth, Louis picks her up and takes her with. He tucks his left leg underneath his right one when he sits down on the settee. There's a space between their bodies that isn’t too enclosed to make Harry uncomfortable; and he averts his gaze to the television, so, that he won’t continuously stare at Louis in his peripheral vision. He can’t keep doing that. He can’t keep–looking at him more than he needs to.

It’s dangerous.

Harry places the remote in Louis's outstretched palm.

Louis shifts through channels for too long; and when he enters Netflix, he spends too much time reading each and every description.

“By this rate,” says Harry, breaking their long held silence, “the cake will be ready before you settle on something.”

Louis turns his head, tilting his head in a look. “Well, I'm not much of a TV person, to be honest,” Louis admits. “What do you recommend?”

“I told you,” says Harry, staring straight at the television still, “your birthday, your choice. . . . But . . . if you really want a recommendation . . . There's Something About Mary is a very good romantic comedy.”

Louis blinks. “What's it about?”

“This guy Ted — Ben Stiller plays him — wants to reconnect with his old prom date back from high school he had a massive crush on, so, he hires somebody to track her down and . . . it's, like, really messy, but what rom-com isn’t? It's a hundred times better than it sounds,” Harry promises him.

Louis seems to consider it.

Then he nods.

“Sure. Let's watch that.”

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he stands from the settee. “You sure?” he asks.

Harry kneels in front of his small but wide bookcase full of DVDs. He quickly looks over every case until he finds the one he’s looking for. Turning the player on and popping in the disc, he returns to his spot on the sofa. Harry’s seen this romcom a thousand times, so, though he keeps his eye on the television, he doesn’t try to catch up with everything that plays out. Instead, he listens to Louis’s laughter, and distracts himself by dragging his forefinger across his lips for something to do. When the stove timer goes off, he jumps up to get it, and Dolly follows behind him.

“It's done,” Harry calls out. After he puts the cake on the counter on top of a dish cloth, he tests the idle with a toothpick. When he looks up to see where Louis is, he finds him by Harry’s walls of picture frames, cradling Dolly in his arms as his gaze roams. Harry decides to act indifferent and let a hard feeling pass through his stomach, and raids through his pantry to find the frosting. “Louis. Where's the frosting?” Harry feels Louis come up beside him a moment later. “I gave it to you. Where could it have disappeared to?”

Taking a step back, Louis stretches an arm out to open the freezer door. He reaches in, and then he closes it to hold the small container of frosting towards Harry, in the air. “Right here,” he says, wiggling it when Harry looks at him, gaze falling on the container. “I put it in the freezer.”

Harry pauses, lips parting. “Why did you put it in the freezer?”

Louis raises both brows at him in a way that the answer should be obvious. “Because room temperature frosting is disgusting? It's only good when it's cold.”

Gently, he tosses it on the island.

Harry's eyebrows pull together as he steps back and pulls the pantry door closed. “Uh—I hate to inform you, but frosting is good no matter what temperature it is,” he says in a vaguely defensive voice.

“Now you're just being gross,” comments Louis, looking briefly at Harry when he situates himself in front the cake, his lightheartedness subtle. Harry chooses to just busy himself with removing the cake from the pan, turning his back to Louis. “Oh, no.”

Harry turns around.

“What?” Harry asks.

He sets the plate full of cake beside Louis on the island and peeks at what Louis has in his hand.

Louis turns his body in an angle, towards Harry, and demonstrates the issue. Holding a knife in his hand to scope some of the chocolate frosting out, he goes at it — but he's stopped, and it's impossible to get any, because the knife is met with nothing but brick. “It's frozen,” Louis says.

Harry blinks a few times.

“Really?”

“Shut up,” he retorts. He glances around before walking over to a cabinet to retrieve a bowl. “Couldn't we use a microwave? Unless you're willing to wait an hour for it to thaw. I know I rather not.” Setting the bowl down, next to the frosting, Louis takes it in his hands and attempts to shake it out into the bowl first. Harry just watches him – and he pauses for a second, because he notices a small freckle on the upper part of the side of his neck. He’s lost count, now, how many freckles Louis has.

“I thought you hated warm frosting.”

“I do, but if we put it in for just a few seconds it won't matter,” Louis reasons.

Harry watches him shake it and realise that method doesn’t work. He proceeds to lay it upside down on the lid and hits it hard. Then he tries squeezing it before attempting to pry the container from the edges of the frosting.

The corners of his mouth tilt downwards in a frown.

“It's going to take more than a few seconds,” Harry comments, and takes the frosting from Louis. He bangs it against the edge of the island, the sound visibly startling Louis. The solid block of frosting falls right into the bowl Louis had gotten. Harry gives him a smile as he walks past Louis to the microwave that sits on the counter to the left of the refrigerator and slides it in. Harry doesn't take it out until it looks like it's thawed entirely, then pulls it out with a hot pad. Coming up beside Louis, he pokes his index finger in the frosting and sucks it into his mouth. “Not that warm.”

He pokes another finger in it.

Louis waves his fingers away from the frosting, and he uses the knife from before to taste it. The temperature appears to be okay with him, judging by the pleased look on his face.

“It's really good,” he confesses quietly to Harry. He puts his knife in the dishwasher full of other dirty utensils and grabs clean knives and forks to use and separate plates for Harry and him. “I don't want to put any frosting on it, by the way,” he adds.

Harry pauses.

“What? Why?” He pulls his eyebrows together in confusion, and looks at Louis instead of the cake. What kind of person doesn’t want frosting on their cake?

“I prefer to have it on the side and dip the cake in the frosting,” Louis explains. “It tastes better to me that way.”

For a few moments, Harry stares at him, and Louis stares back, a little challenge in his face. His assistant is weird. But he can work around it. So, he nods, saying, “We can do that, no problem.” Then he remembers: “Wait.” He walks over to a drawer a few feet from them and rummages through it until he pulls out two things: a large pack of single candle sticks, and candle numbers 2 and 7. “Can't forget these.” Harry sticks the numbers right in the centre, then surrounds it with twenty-seven of the fifty count of blue candles. It's a very crowded cake, and crumbly and has new cracks added into the old ones because of the force of all the candles. It’s ugly, in Harry’s opinion; the cake, the stereotypical candles, how bare and destroyed it all is – but when he lifts his head to look at Louis, into his blue eyes that have specks of green and grey, his chest eases. Stops. Momentarily. This . . . isn’t so ugly.

Quickly, he lights all of the candles. “Okay,” he says upon lighting the last one, and sets down the lighter. “Make a wish.”

Louis ends up staring at his face instead of blowing out the candles right away. He searches Harry’s face. And Harry doesn’t know what to do besides stare right back. Finally, Louis tears his eyes away and leans down, blowing out the candles. They leave a trail of smoke in the air and a very distinct candle stench that Harry hates. But Harry pretends, and chooses to clap him for and whistle. Louis laughs at him, something soft and something high that pulls at Harry’s chest. He starts picking the candles out of the cake, and Harry notices a soft tinge of pink colouring the apples of his cheeks.

Harry doesn’t know why, so, he ignores it.

Louis cuts the cake and gives the first slice to Harry, then gives one to himself. Harry suffocates his slice in frosting very carelessly. Dolly retreats back to them and tries to rub her face in the bowl of chocolate and what's on their plates, but Harry grabs her with both of his hands and tucks her underneath his arm. She struggles to free herself the entire time; Harry ignores it. Even when they sit back down on the sofa to continue watching their movie. Harry doesn’t see it coming when Dolly whips her paw around and slashes at his skin, causing a long and bright red scratch down his forearm. He lets her go immediately, pissed off.

He sees Dolly strut right into Louis's lap, and walks in circles before settling down to rest on his thighs. Her relaxed exterior pisses him off more.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks, concerned, eyes full of concern.

Harry’s jaw tenses. “It burns,” he answers truthfully, “but I’m fine. She's just in a mood today.” He rolls his eyes.

There’s a frown on Louis’s face when he glances down at Dolly, but he doesn’t say anything further. Harry chooses to suck it up and finish eating his cake while ignoring Dolly. The scratch thankfully never bleeds, as they finish the rest of their movie, eating the entire cake by themselves. Louis doesn’t finish the next slice he eats, but Harry has no problem eating the rest of it for the both of them.

Harry's licking the icing off his fork when he looks at Louis. The half piece of pure cake is still there on Louis’s plate. “What did you think?”

Louis's eyes flicker up at him, meeting his gaze. Breathing in a soft breath, he nods his head.

“It was good; I liked it. I love Cameron Diaz.”

“Me, too,” Harry admits. “She's very nice.”

“Have you met her?”

Humming, Harry nods once. “Met her on the red carpet at some award show. I think I have a picture.” Louis huffs out a chuckle. “Do you want to watch another movie?”

Louis stays silent for a moment, then shrugs and rests a hand on Dolly, whom lays sleeping in his lap. “Sure. But you pick this time.”

“It's still your choice,” Harry reminds him.

Breathing out a purposely heavy annoyed sigh, he says, “I choose you to pick the next thing we watch.”

“That's not how it works.”

“Sure, it is. It's my birthday.”

Harry stares at Louis, pressing his lips together. It becomes a staring contest between them. It goes on for several moments until Harry blinks and looks away. “I can't argue that,” he says, finally.

“Exactly,” quips Louis, as he gently drops the remote in Harry's outstretched hand, palm turned up.

They watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s, then when Harry turns on Meet the Parents, he notices Louis’s eyes start closing. He repetitively glances out of the corner of his eyes at Louis, watching him nod off until he’s sound asleep. Harry’s chest grows soft as he stares at Louis’s tired, pale face. His thin lips are slightly parted, like he should be snoring. Him and Dolly both sound asleep on each other is a rather humourous sight. He decides to leave Louis be and turns his attention to the television to watch the movie. There’s something . . . oddly comforting about the silence; Louis sleeping beside him, the hum of the telly, the filling sensation that encompasses the silence. It’s not so lonely��not so what Harry’s used to. By the end of the movie, he grabs his own plate and stands up, then does his best to grab Louis’s without disturbing him. But Louis’s eyes flutter open at the accidental brush of contact that Harry internally curses himself for. Louis straightens out his very tilted sleeping position, and looks up at him through squinted eyes.

Harry gives Louis a genuine apologetic look, and quietly says, “Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

Louis delicately rubs his eye with the back of his right hand, and stretches his legs, breathing out a tired sigh. He blinks his eyes a few times to adjust. “It's fine,” he rasps. “Sorry I'm falling asleep.”

“Don't apologise,” Harry gently tells him.

He continues off to the kitchen. After scraping off pieces into the rubbish and rinsing off their plates, he lays them on the counter, then hesitates. The image of the gift bag still in the other room floats to the forefront of his mind. He looks over his shoulder at Louis, and finds him distracted by Dolly, and makes a quick decision. Harry speed walks to the other room on silent heels and grabs Louis’ gift bag, then makes his way back into the front room. Louis looks up the exact moment Harry approaches him, and the movements of his hand combing Dolly’s fur stop when his eyes fall down and spot a white bag in Harry's left hand.

“What ‘ave you got there?” His tone is careful.

Harry sets the shopping bag right in his spot, close enough for Louis to reach into. Harry sits on the edge of the settee on the other side of Louis, at an angle facing Louis, and he looks him directly in the eyes. “I thought I'd give this to you, before you completely black out on me,” he says. “It's not really a celebration without gifts, too.”

Louis pushes himself up to sit straighter. “Harry . . .” He looks at a loss for words – lips parted on nothing; uncertainty scaling his face and eyes; touching the bag’s thin, black handles like it’ll burn him. “You didn't have to get me anything. Dinner, movies, the cake, I'm perfectly content just with that.”

Harry presses his lips together lightly and nods. “I know,” he says, forcing his gaze to not leave Louis's. “But I want to do this for you. Don’t make me repeat myself; I’m not good with complimenting people. Just accept it.”

“Harry—”

“Fucking accept it,” he says.

Glancing between Harry's face and the bag, Louis touches it again.

He leans forward and peeks inside. It’s covered by black, decorative tissue paper, and Harry watches him use both hands to remove all the tissue paper.

He knows the second Louis sees it. He pauses, gaze unblinking and widening just enough for Harry to catch. He sees the backpack from Givenchy Harry had gotten him. That was . . . another thing he managed to get out of Niall. Louis’s allegedly been so back and forth about buying it for himself that Harry decided to choose for him. It was extremely easy to find, and even easier to buy. It was probably the easiest gift Harry’s ever had to shop for. But–he didn’t think it was enough; he had bought a bag of Reese’s, as well as wrote a check out for Louis and put that in the backpack for him. Maybe it would make up for everything, Harry’s hoping–maybe it’ll . . . Harry shouldn’t be hoping for anything, really. But after Rachel had a talk with him and made him feel like a shitty person, he’s hoping this’ll convey Harry’s guilt. Or apology. Louis might not recognise it as that, but that’s okay.

“Open it,” Harry instructs softly.

Louis quits just staring at the bag and unzips it. Suddenly, he looks up at Harry and smiles at him, face glowing in happiness. Harry can’t help the smile he gives him in return. Louis backs down and–a little laugh is pulled out of him. Harry’s eyebrow furrow, a little, in wonder.

“What's so funny?” Harry asks.

Louis pulls the bag of candy out to show Harry, without speaking.

Harry's gaze shifts from Louis to the treat, a confused but amused smile splitting across his lips. He . . . doesn’t understand. It’s candy. Harry shrugs like what about it? and Louis shakes his head in response and mumbles never mind. Setting the candy down beside Dolly, he grabs the check.

Louis scoffs, shaking his head as he begins to read it, and asks, “How much is this?”

But he abruptly stops, face falling.

“Five thousand dollars,” Harry casually answers, despite his heart picking up pace again. Louis lifts his head to look at him, but he doesn't say anything. Is it too much? Is it too forward? Did Harry cross a line? Maybe he was wrong for buying Louis his dream backpack and a check. But if he just stuck with the candy, then Harry would look like he put in the least amount of effort in. And this is the line he struggles with: either going too far, or not doing enough. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Louis answers immediately. Then he releases a breath, knowing he’s full of it. “This is too much, Harry.”

Harry blinks, then stamps on his racing heart and pulls out his detached face. “Louis,” he begins, stern, “don’t even start. That?”—he points to the check—“That is pocket change to me. We’ve gone over this. I have more money than I’ll ever know what to do with. I don’t see better use for it than for charity and for using it to buy whatever you want. Don’t feel bad about me using my own money. Eat the rich, or whatever they say.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Louis asks.

Harry pauses.

“Yes and no. But that’s a different conversation for another day.”

Louis blinks, breaking his gaze from Harry. Harry watches him closely, and waits for something. Louis’s face is concentrated; furrowed eyebrows, a far away look in his crystal clear eyes. He’s thinking something, and as much as Harry would love to get inside that pretty little head of his, he merely settles for waiting. Dolly comes poking through, however, weaving herself effortlessly and expertly through Louis's arms. She throws her arms up to cling to the opened backpack, and stands on her hind legs to peer inside. She stuffs her entire head in it, and it breaks Louis out of whatever it was, making him chuckle.

Harry just shakes his head.

Louis wraps his fingers around her legs to pull her back out of his backpack, but she clings hard. Harry finds himself laughing softly at the image before him, and he intervenes quickly. He softly scratches behind Dolly's head, then transitions into wrapping his hands around her bottom. He picks her up upside down, successfully having Dolly let go.

Harry pulls her to his chest.

Louis's small chuckle turns into a giggle, and he shakes his head. He reaches for his phone on the coffee table, and Harry watches his face change to realisation.

“I have to go,” he announces.

Dolly falls out of Harry’s grip and runs away.

He looks at Harry.

Harry puts on an unreadable face. “You have to go?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Louis responds as he stands up. “I have a flight in the morning. Remember? I have to get up really early, and triple check all my belongings. It’s a long flight, so, I’ll need some proper rest.”

“All right,” Harry agrees. He walks first to the door, with Louis following suit, after placing his backpack back into the bag, along with the check. “When's your flight?”

“Hm,” Louis hums. “I think 7.45 in the morning.”

“Harsh,” Harry comments lightly. He lifts his hand to rub at his neck a moment. “I hope it's good. Tell your mum I said hello.”

Louis nods. “I will. And I hope it is, too.” There's a slightly awkward pause, on Louis's end. But it doesn’t last. “Listen . . . I want to thank you for—”

Harry interrupts him.

“No problem.”

“You didn't have to,” Louis points out. He's clearly not going to let Harry wave it off. “You didn't have to do anything at all, but you did. I just want you to know that it's one of the nicest things someone's ever done for me, and that I really, really appreciate it.”

Louis looks at with the most serene face, conviction in his tone. It causes Harry to be temporarily weak.

“You're welcome,” he says in response, hands clasped behind his back for something to hold on to.

Harry doesn’t see it coming – Louis steps forward with confidence, coming into Harry’s personal space, and raises himself onto his toes to wrap his arms around Harry’s shoulders. Those icy nerves return alight and burn him. He’s paralysed for several moments; all he registers is the faint scent of floral notes reaching into his nostrils and brushing against his nose hairs. It’s not overwhelming; it’s the perfect aroma of flowers and fruitiness. Based on his own colognes he’s sampled and bought before, this one could be YSL – or maybe it’s ones he’s seen, such as Lancome. They carry a lot of floral perfumes. Either way, it’s very pleasing. And before he can think, he sneaks his arms around Louis’s small waist–it’s much smaller and slimmer than it looks–and spreads his fingers across the bottom of his spine and the middle of his back.

It’s only a moment later Louis pulls back.

Even though Louis doesn’t look at him, he can’t stop staring at Louis, completely dumbfounded.

“I'll see you in a couple weeks,” says Louis, smiling, when he looks up at Harry. “I'm a text and phone call away if you need anything, okay?” Louis raises a pointed eyebrow at him, giving Harry a look. “Don't hesitate, okay? I won't mind.”

Harry nods.

He’s not going to, but he’ll pretend for Louis.

“Got it,” he says, pressing his lips together.

The pointed look remains on Louis's face.

“I mean it,” he presses, to ensure his message is across.

Harry rolls his eyes and straightens out his posture. “I know,” he sighs. “I’ve survived nearly a decade without you, so, I don't think anything I can't handle is going to happen in the time you'll be gone.”

Louis throws his hands up in surrender.

“Hey, I didn't say you couldn't handle any one thing. I implied quite the opposite, actually,” he corrects.

Harry plays along.

“No need to rub my already swollen ego.”

Louis smiles, huffing out a small laugh. It’s the softest expression he’s ever seen on a face. It’s so caring. Harry doesn’t–understand how he can be so gentle. “Never happy with anything, are you?” he teases.

Harry smiles. “Nope,” he says. “Comes with being a perfectionist. And just being me, in general.”

“I see.” There's silence that falls over them like a blanket. Harry’s hoping Louis will take the cue and leave, but he stays. “What do you plan to do for Christmas?”

Harry blinks.

“I don't know,” he answers. “I don't do much for Christmas, really. I don't celebrate it.”

Louis raises an inquiring brow. “Because of religious reasons, or . . . ?”

Harry shrugs. He doesn’t talk about it with anyone. He’s certainly not going to discuss it with Louis. “Nah. Just don't celebrate it, that's all,” he answers, giving Louis a small smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Not even with your parents?” Harry shakes his head, choosing not to say anything more. With that, Louis drops the subject. “Don't forget to—”

“I'm kicking you out,” Harry says, tone flat, and a finger pointed to the door behind Louis.

He walks around him and opens it.

“You're kicking me out?” Louis repeats,, smiling and now standing so close to the door frame, as he keeps his gaze on Harry, whom now leans against the side of the red door, arms crossed and one foot hooked around the other.

Harry nods vigorously, eyebrows risen.

“Get out. Right now.”

“Fine, I'll leave,” says Louis, raising his hands as he walks out onto the stone walkway, “but not because you're threatening me; but because I want to.” He keeps on walking down the small set of stone steps and across the path leading to the driveway.

“Louis,” Harry calls out without thinking, just going on the feeling of restricted air in his chest. Louis looks over his shoulder, as his hand pulls his car keys out of his pants pocket, and his strides slow. He stares at Harry with patience, and it’s the last thing Harry wants to see in his face, because he won’t be seeing him for a while. “Merry Christmas. Happy birthday. Have a safe flight.”

Louis’s mouth curves up in a gentle, genuine smile.

“Thank you. Happy New Year,” he calls back.

Harry closes the door two-thirds of the way, not willing to let go of the sight of Louis quite yet. He needs to see him get safely in his car and drive away – he can’t let that feeling go. The restriction in his chest worsens when he watches Louis open his car door, but it eases slowly when Louis looks back. In fear of coming off creepy, he closes the door. But he stays behind it to listen to the engine start – to see the red lights reflect against the windows and the distant sound of his car fade until Harry can’t hear anything anymore. Then he turns around, inhaling a deep breath when his vision lands on Dolly sitting on her bum patiently by the stairs, watching him.

“Dolly,” he says – she tilts her head – “Am I too much?”

Dolly mews and walks off.

He’s always changing himself, changing his style, his image. He’s either always too much or not enough; there’s no healthy balance. Maybe he’ll try working on it in Louis’s absence, so, he doesn’t have to fret over it every time he says or does something he’s not familiar with. He doesn’t want to scare Louis off.

#drabbles #hiiii i hope this doesn't disappoint! i had a headache while doing this lol so i hope it turns out decent-ish!

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raysofcrosby · 4 years ago

Text

CHANCES – M. TKACHUK

requested: yes | no

warning(s): none that i can think of.

word count: 5,066

listened to: chances by the backstreet boys

inspiration: mixed luggage au [ i can’t find the og au-prompt masterlist, but if this is your au idea, lemme know and i’ll link you for credit (: ]

authors note: listen– i don’t know what it is, but i’ve literally been on a tkachuk thing lately. like, i used to despise this little curly-headed gremlin, but now??? it’s all hearteyes motherfucker. this is purely a writing to help me get back into the writing groove again after these last six months of nothing– so i might be a lil rusty. anyway, i hope you enjoy <3333

I’m sorry Y/N, but if you’re not here in the next 5 minutes I need to keep going.

That text haunted you– it was all you could think about the moment you got off of your flight. The uber your sister had ordered for you was close to canceling– all because there were too many planes taxiing on the airstrip and your stupid flight ended up circling in the air for thirty minutes. If this were any other airport, no doubt you’d be screwed. Luckily though, you knew good ole St. Louis Lambert International like the back of your hand. So getting from point A to point luggage claim would be no problem at all. The only delay would be the luggage getting put out onto the carousel.

Which of course, did prove to be the problem at hand.

You were the first one from your flight at the carousel and hoped to be gone before any disgruntled passengers you managed to bump into, could show up. Unfortunately for you, just as the bags were being loaded onto the carousel, your fellow passengers were arriving too– more than a few giving you a look that would normally result in you rolling your eyes in response. Yet, your focus wasn’t on them, it was glued to the small carousel door, keeping an eye out for your suitcase.

Teal bag with a grey handle. Teal bag with a grey handle. Teal bag with a grey handle. Teal bag with a grey hand–

“Ah-ha!” You smiled, catching eye of your suitcase and rushing to meet it instead of letting it eventually make its way to you. You grabbed the suitcase and extended the handle to drag it away, already walking towards the exit.

One minute.

You had one minute to catch your uber before they left you and you hoped and prayed that luck was on your side and the black Toyota Corolla just happened to be parked near the door you chose to exit from. The warm summer air of the Missouri summer weather practically smacked you in the face and it fit wasn’t for the awning covering the pick-up zone, you would have no doubt been blinded by the sun too.

“Oh, thank God,” you sighed, catching sight of a black Toyota Corolla that your sister said to find, parked just six cars down to your left. You sped walked to the uber, coming to a stop at the window and waving at the driver, catching her attention. “I’m so, so sorry I’m late.”

The woman, probably in her early 60’s gave you a friendly smile instead of the scowl you were expecting. “Are you Y/N?”

“Yes ma’am,” you replied, nodding.

“Go ahead and put your suitcase in the trunk, it’s opened for you.”

You walked to the trunk and lifted it open, placing your suitcase inside before closing it and walking to the back passenger door, getting into the backseat. “Again, I’m so sorry for making you wait. We had to circle in the air for 30 minutes because of the traffic on the airstrip and,” you exhaled, relaxing back into your seat. “I’m so sorry.”

She laughed, pulling away from the airport. “It’s no problem sweetheart. I saw your reply. I was going to give you a little extra time. I know how hectic airports could be. Especially this time of the year. Everyone’s traveling for vacation.”

“Yeah, I think I might have accidentally elbowed one too many people trying to get to luggage claim.”

“Are you visiting or coming home?”

“Coming home…kind of,” you laughed, staring out the window at your hometown. “I actually just graduated from college a few weeks ago, so my roommates and I rented a house on the Jersey Shore to celebrate. But, my sister is getting married tomorrow, so that’s why I’m back.” You looked back towards her, laughing softly to yourself. “But then come September, I’ll actually be moving to Calgary for a new job and to get my Masters.”

“So a lot of traveling, I see.”

You took a deep breath and sighed, nodding. “Yeah, but I’m glad to be able to spend all of this time with my friends and family before I start working. Especially since I’ll be moving so far away.”

“It sounds like a great time,” she smiled, looking at me through the rearview mirror. “I’m a sucker for weddings, why don’t you tell me about it?”

Normally, you weren’t one to talk a lot whenever you and your friends would take Ubers downtown on the weekends– but this driver was sweet and you found yourself talking nonstop as she drove you towards your final destination. After all, she didn’t abandon you at the airport like you thought she would.

The car ride to your parents' place went by a lot faster than you thought it would and it was all thanks to Mrs. Sheila, your lovely uber driver. Whom, you learned, started driving after she lost her husband late last year. Her kids lived out of state and once they went back home after those first few weeks, she wanted to find something to do to keep herself busy and get herself out of the house– so, she became an uber driver.

Walking into your parents' house, you were greeted with empty echos of your footsteps. Your parents were still at work and wouldn’t be home until just a little before the rehearsal dinner tonight. Your brother, well, as far as you knew, he had absolutely nothing going on, so you didn’t know why he wasn’t around. If anyone was guaranteed to be home, it was your sister. She was the one who ordered your uber and had them take you here, so she was more than well aware of what time you’d be arriving home.

“Hello?” You called out, leaving your suitcase by the door and making your way to the living room. “Char, are you here?”

“Is that my favorite sister?” You heard her voice call out from upstairs. Looking up, you could see her rounding the hallway corner, carrying a closed laundry basket full of, no doubt, stuff for tonight’s bridal party sleepover.

“I’m your only sister,” you laughed as she made her way down the staircase.

“Unless you count all of the times we got bored and turned Nick into Nikki,” she giggled, reaching the end of the staircase and putting the basket down before stepping forward and hugging you. “How was the flight?”

“It was great up until our 30 minutes of circling in the air,” you laughed, pulling away from the hug. “Where’s my dear brother?”

“Working out with some friends. We probably won’t see him until tonight.”

“Nothing says welcome home like being greeted to an empty house.”

“Excuse you, I was here to greet you.” She laughed, picking the basket back up. “But if you really want to be upset, you should see all of the packed boxes in your room.”

“I leave in three months! Why are they packing me up now?” You gasped, acting dramatically.

“Nick and dad are planning on transforming it into some kind of training room or something.”

“But they–“

“Already took over the garage? Yeah, I know and mom is pissed.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the handle of your suitcase again. “He literally told the Blues that he was going back to Michigan in the fall to try and win a championship. Why the hell are they even treating him like he’s already a hall of famer?”

“Perks of being the youngest, not to mention dad’s only son,” she laughed, looking at the door. “Ready to head to the Airbnb?”

“Can we get food first?” You asked, dragging your suitcase along. “I’m starving.”

She laughed as you held the door open for her. “Good, because we’re most definitely getting food before we go and take a nap.”

You laughed, walking out of the house with her and then closing and locking the door behind you. “I knew we were related.”

Lunch and a nap turned out to be exactly what you needed. The two of you had stopped at a subway to get some food before driving over to the Airbnb that you, your sister and the rest of the bridesmaids would be staying for the night.

It was a beautiful three-bedroom, modernized cottage that looked like it was stripped directly from the pages of a fairytale book. It was tucked away, just off to the side in the backyard of a beautiful colonial house, whose farm would tomorrow be transformed into a whimsical fairytale wedding location. The men would be getting ready in the house, while the women would be getting ready in the cute cottage. Sort of like a secret getaway paradise before the wedding.

When you got back with your food, your sister took you on a tour of the property while the wedding planners and staff were setting up all of the bigger decorations for tomorrow. You were off at school during the entire planning process, only ever seeing every one of her ideas in pictures. The only things you were able to take part in, were the dress shopping and her bachelorette party since they were both held at a time you were on a fall break from school. Besides being there for those two things, the only other thing you helped with– was the proposal.

Colton has been in your life for as long as you could remember. He and Charlotte have been best friends since Pre-K. It was the cliché friends to lovers kind of story that was told time after time– but in theirs, there were no other people in it. It was just them. There were no other boyfriends or girlfriends, no other crushes– from the very beginning, they were it for each other. They were each other's first everything– kiss, date, girlfriend/boyfriend, time– in their love story, they had found their one great love…all before they turned five.

Wherever Charlotte was, there was Colton– they were stuck like glue and your parents loved it. It was their friendship that brought both of your families together to the relationship that you all had now. Your families were best friends, all because of their relationship. You often took vacations together, spent holidays together, hell, you and Colton’s middle brother, Mason, even had joint birthday parties– as did your two younger siblings, Nick and Addie. Your families even try to go as far as to dropping hints that all three kids should date.

Colton and Charlotte. You and Mason. Nick and Addie– all the same age and practically family already.

It was perfect.

Until you and Mason tried to date in the tenth-grade and realized that kissing the person you’ve shared every birthday party with, used to take baths with and shared every key moment growing up– wasn’t all that great. In fact, it was weird. So the two of you remained as the almost black sheep of the families, especially since Nick and Addie were headed down the same path as Charlotte and Colton. They started dating in eighth-grade– like Colton and Charlotte– and have maintained a healthy and strong relationship to now, even long-distance, when they’ll both be sophomores in college in the fall, Addie at the University of Missouri and Nick playing hockey at the University of Michigan.

You and Mason were there, always making jokes about how it runs in the family but skipped a generation. Never letting your siblings live it down that the two of you will be the ones to break the cycle. Funny how you two were also the ones who played the biggest roles in Charlotte’s engagement.

Both of your dads are huge St. Louis Blues fans. So naturally, they tried to rub that off onto their children. And it worked, all except for you. You tolerated the blues, but never really adopted hockey as your favorite sport. You understood it, watched it whenever you never had a choice– but like your mom, you gravitated more towards football and adopted her hometown team as your own– the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Colton and Charlotte, however, were both diehard Blues fans from day one. There were even pictures to prove it. They even went to a game on both their first ‘supervised’ date and ‘unsupervised’ date. So, when the Blues were making a run for the Stanley Cup– it was imminent for your families to attend at least one game. You and Mason did everything in your power to get the Blues attention. You emailed anyone and everyone who worked in their front office, you spammed their social media accounts– anything and everything to get their attention so you could share their story and Colton’s plan.

And at game four it all came to life. Charlotte was ‘randomly’ selected to participate in an intermission event after the first period where she’d be blindfolded and needed to walk along the ice to find Louie after collecting ‘Blues momentos’ along the way. The Blues had played the short slideshow of Colton and Charlotte that you and Mason had sent them, as they introduced her to the crowd. Unbeknownst to her, both of our families were on the ice with her, standing behind her while she was blindfolded. You and the other three siblings were scattered in front of her, each holding a single rose.

The Blues staff member helped her walk along the ice and the moment that she took a flower from someone, they needed to go back to where she started, which was where Colton was standing with the ring in his pocket. The four of you each had a sign, that when held up together read ‘Will you marry me?’ Once Charlotte neared Louie, he cut the distance to just by center ice where all of you were waiting. And when she found Louie, the entire crowd had erupted into cheers as she took off her blindfold, all smiles until she turned around to see the signs and Colton on one knee.

She said yes. The Blues won. The proposal went viral and your families were given a box to game seven where the Blues won the Stanley Cup.

All in a day's work between the two middle siblings, and one that led you all to this moment– the wedding tomorrow. Where Colton, who was already like a big brother yo you, would officially, pretty much become your big brother.

“Y/N,” your sister said, shaking your arm. “Y/N, get up. We’ve got like 45 minutes to get ready for dinner before we have to leave and no offense, but you need to shower.”

“Your lucky that you’re getting married tomorrow or I’d kill you,” you mumbled into the pillow, taking a deep breath and exhaling before pushing yourself up. “Can you charge my phone for me? I won’t take too long, just need to rinse off and I’ll be back.”

“In your backpack?” She asked as you walked out of the room.

“Mhhm, small front pocket. The charger is with it.”

You walked out of the room and into the connected bathroom, closing the door behind you before walking towards the shower and turning on the water. Your nap was more than enough to help you make it through dinner. You hadn’t thought that you were even that tired, but the moment you laid down to relax after eating your sandwich– you were absolutely knocked out.

To be fair though, you had spent the last two weeks partying it up on the beach with your college roommates, trying to relive every moment from your last four years of partying, downing booze, and making out with any attractive guy who caught your eye. You know what they say, no rest for the wicked– and boy, oh boy, were the wicked actions of shotgunning beers with strangers in the hot summer jersey sun, coming back to haunt you.

At least you got one hell of a tan and more memories to last you a lifetime, out of it all.

You turned off the shower before you stepped out and wrapped a towel around your body, then wrapping your hair up in a second towel. You walked out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom, only to find it empty. "Hey, Char?"

"In the living room...er, kitchen, I guess!"

You walked out of the bedroom and into the living room to see Charlotte sitting at the kitchen counter, a make-up mirror propped up in front of her and hot curling iron in her hand. "Why are you doing your hair in the kitchen?"

"You were in the bathroom and the lighting is lacking in the bedroom." She let a curl, fall from the iron and turned to you. "What's up?"

"Well, for one, the bathroom is free," you laughed, looking around. "And two, I was wondering where you put my suitcase? It was in the room and now it's not."

"No," she dragged out her reply, focusing on wrapping another piece of hair around the iron before averting her eyes towards the door. "You left it by the front door. Never brought it in."

You turned towards the front door and sure enough, right there not even three feet away from the door...was your suitcase. "Awesome, thanks!" You said, walking over and tugging on the handle, extending it out before walking back to the room. "And my phone?"

"Charging in the kitchen. It was dead by the way."

"Great," you huffed, walking into the bedroom and over to the bed. You lifted up the suitcase, letting it plop down onto the bed and exhaled a deep breath. It was a lot heavier than you thought it was. But maybe your body was just tired from traveling and last night's final night out.

You caught a glimpse of the alarm clock that was set up on the bedside table and saw that your getting ready time was vastly starting to dwindle. So, not thinking anything more of the heavy suitcase, you unzipped the zipper and threw the cover back, ready to grab the romper you had placed directly on top, just so it wouldn't get wrinkled. You stared down at the contents of the suitcase, quickly grabbing the cover and shutting it again.

Okay, maybe you were imagining things.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling, and then opening your eyes and opening the suitcase again.

No, you definitely weren't imagining things.

The same spike ball netting was still staring you right in the face. Surrounding it, were three spike balls and a crumbled up bag that was supposed to house the set. Beneath it, a bunch of crumpled up clothes and other things.

"No," you shut the suitcase again, repeating the same steps: close your eyes, take a breath, hope you're dreaming, open your eyes and then the suitcase, only to be disappointed. "No, no– oh my God, this can't be happening. Charlotte!!"

You heard her footsteps echo off of the wooden floor as she made her way to the bedroom, half of her hair curled and set. "What?"

"This isn't my suitcase."

"Of course it is," she scoffed. "Colton and I got you that big traveling set for graduation, and that," she pointed at the suitcase, "is it."

"No, it's not," You opened the suitcase and reached in, grabbing the first thing you felt and holding it up to show her. "See? Not mine!"

"Y/N," her eyes widened before she started to laugh. "You might want to put those down."

"It's just the spike ball bag, it's not big–" you turned to see what you were holding and sure enough, it was not the spike ball bag you thought you had picked up. It was a pair of Ant-Man boxers, and it was unknown whether or not they were clean or not. "Ah, ew!" You tossed them back into the suitcase, wiping your hand on your towel. "Ew, ew, ew, I just touched a stranger's dirty underwear."

"You don't know if they were dirty."

"You don't know if they were clean!" You argued back, looking around the handle for an identification tag. "This definitely isn't mine. My travel tag isn't on the handle."

"Who uses a travel tag?" She laughed, shaking her head.

"Me," you turned towards the suitcase, slamming it shut and zipping it. "I use a travel tag, so if my luggage gets lost or switched, they can contact me. It's common travel knowledge."

She sighed, walking over towards the suitcase and unzipping the two pockets on top, looking in and shaking her head. "Nothing hidden in those pockets. Did you think to go through the rest of the suitcase? Maybe they have a tag in there."

"And risk touching another pair of possibly dirty boxers and God knows what else? No thanks," you zipped up the suitcase and picked it up, placing it back onto the ground. "I'm doomed. That suitcase had all of the clothes that I took to Jersey, in it. It had my outfit and makeup for tonight."

"I have something you can borrow," she walked over to the closet, opening it to reveal it was empty besides two dresses hanging up. "And I've got make-up and whatever your little heart desires for your hair."

"Your wedding present was in there too," you sighed, walking over to the closet. "Which one?"

"This." She held out the rose-colored dress, handing the hanger to you. "You can get away with no bra and I can give you a pair of underwear from the new pack I bought this morning–"

"Why would you buy new underwear?" You asked, taking the dress.

"In case of emergencies," she closed the closet and turned back to you, nodding. "Which, this is. Unopened pack in that laundry basket I was carrying, feel free to take a pair and keep them. As for shoes...you're kind of on your own on that one."

You sighed, defeated as she walked out of the bedroom, leaving you to get dressed. You unwrapped the towel around your hair, letting it drop onto the floor as the towel wrapped around your body went with it. You took the dress off of the hanger and untied the straps, lifting the dress over your head and tugging it down. Your mind was going over every detail of just how you picked up the wrong suitcase. Fair, it was a dead-ringer for the suitcase you took with you to Jersey, but even you should have known to realize that there was no bright red luggage tag hanging on the side handle. And it was all you could do but hope that whoever picked up your suitcase thinking it was theirs, would at least call or text.

"Oh shit," you said, holding onto the straps that hung down on the side, trying to tie them in the back. "Charlotte! My phone!"

You ran out into the living room to see her now finishing up her make-up at the counter, turning to you with wide eyes. "Okay one, sit down and let me brush your hair," she stood up and grabbed your wrist, bringing you over to counter and sitting you down. "And two, your phone is right there."

"If they figured out our luggage was switched, they'd call! My luggage tag!" You reached across the counter, grabbing your phone and turning it over to see that the screen was still black. "Oh come on, my phone wasn't that dead!"

Charlotte tugged you back and started to brush your hair, not bothering to go slow. "I plugged it in the moment you went to take a shower, just give it a few seconds."

If looks could kill, your phone would be nowhere ready to turn on. You were glaring at the screen as if pure intimidation would turn it on. This could go one of two ways:

1) This person left your suitcase in the dark abyss that is lost luggage at the airport.

2) Like you, they didn't realize that they had grabbed the wrong luggage until they went to open it and they'll find your luggage tag and call you.

"Ah!" You yelled, jumping out of the chair as your phone lit up. You leaned over the counter, your heart racing as Charlotte tried to keep brushing your hair. "Come on, come on, come on..."

"Right there," Charlotte said, pointing at your screen as a text message notification popped up on the screen from an unknown number. "That has to be them!"

"Oh thank God," you sighed, thumb ready to swipe the message open. "Oh...yikes."

"Uh," Charlotte laughed as the two of you continued to watch your messages pour in, at least 5 coming in from the unknown number, along with three phone calls. "Yikes indeed, I guess they're panicking just as much as you are."

You swiped on the notifications, unlocking your phone, and going to the message.

unknown: hi y/n i think you grabbed the wrong suitcase...

unknown: yeah, uh, you most definitely grabbed the wrong suitcase.

unknown: is there any way we can switch in the next 30 minutes before i reach my house?

unknown: ok, so i'm sorry for the spam texts and calls...but this is kind of urgent.

unknown: like life or death.

"Life or death?" Charlotte asked, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "What the hell was in that suitcase?"

"Spike ball and dirty clothes," you replied, shrugging. Your eyes went wide before you turned back to her. "What if they're a drug smuggler and there are drugs in there?"

She opened her mouth to speak before looking down at your phone, nodding. "Now's your chance to find out. Look who's calling."

You looked back down at your phone to see the unknown number flash on your screen. You looked back at her, shaking your head. "You answer it."

"Your luggage, you answer it," she laughed, pulling back segments of your hair to tie back. "But put it on speaker, I'm curious what the drug dealer sounds like."

You shoved your elbow back, avoiding her as you nervously slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call and pressing the speaker button. "Hello?"

"Oh thank God," the unknown called sighed, clearing his throat. "Sorry for the spam calls, I've just been panicking."

"Yeah, I’m sorry...my phone died," you replied, looking at Charlotte as your voice dwindled off.

"The suitcase," she mouthed, nodding her head back towards the room.

"Oh, the suitcase!" You said, almost a little too excited. You cleared your throat, calming yourself down. "I most definitely have your suitcase...maybe."

"Well I have yours," you could hear rustling in the background. "Y/N L/N, right?"

"Yep, that's me," you looked at Charlotte again, shaking your head. "Sorry to kind of do this...but how do I know I have your suitcase? I mean, what if I grabbed someone else's and you grabbed mine and there's three of us in this and–"

Charlotte smacked your back lightly with the back of the brushed, shaking her head as the voice on the other side of the phone laughed. "Um, shit," he coughed, smacking his lips. "Uh well, there should be a spike ball set in there. If not, then I left it at Johnny's. Otherwise, it's just clothes."

"Congratulations," you laughed, leaning back into the chair. "I've got your suitcase."

"Oh thank God, I was really worried there for a second," they replied. "Is there any chance we can exchange them soon?"

"Okay, so about that," you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. "I kind of have a wedding rehearsal and dinner to go to in 20 minutes...and I don't think that will be over with till about...two hours from now. Is that okay?"

There was silence on the other side and you couldn't help but feel horrible at the fact that you were keeping this stranger away from his luggage and that he had to keep yours until then. "My family and I are going to dinner in two hours, reservation and all."

"Where at?" You spoke before your brain could even catch up with what your mouth was doing. "I'm sorry that was creepy."

He laughed and you felt a little flutter feeling in your stomach. "No, it's fine. I think we're going to Maggiano's in–"

"In the Westfield town center?" Your eyes widened as Charlotte placed the brush down on the counter behind you, looking at you with a smile. "We're going to Pieology in the Westfield town center!"

"Pieology for a wedding rehearsal dinner? Sounds like my kind of party," he laughed. "So, do you just want to exchange then? When I get there and you're leaving?"

"Sounds perfect!"

"Great! So I'll just, text you when I get there and I promise I won't forget the suitcase."

"Okay, I'll see you then."

"All right, bye, Y/N!"

"Bye!" You hung up the call and Charlotte leaned against the counter a smile on her face. "What?"

"He sounded cute." She stuck placed the extra bobby pins she didn't need, onto the counter. "Maybe he can be your date for my wedding."

"Not this again," you groaned, getting out of the chair. "For the last time, I don't need a date. Besides, this guy is a total stranger– I don't even know his name!"

"You can learn it later," she laughed, wiggling her eyebrows. "Either way, do your makeup quickly because we need to leave in ten."

She walked off towards the bedroom the two of you had claimed and you sighed, sitting back down into your seat, grabbing her mascara, blush, and golden liquid shimmer eyeshadow. It was the best you could do for now, until you got all of your stuff back from this stranger. As you applied the eyeshadow, you couldn't get Charlotte's comment out of your head. She was right, he did sound cute. But who's to say that he's not a total creep? Or that he's even your age? He could be in his 40's or even barely cruising 18. And then stood the real issue, you didn't even know his name.

Your phone screen lit up once again and you looked away from the mirror, seeing that you had another text from the unknown number. You furrowed your eyebrows and unlocked your phone, opening his text.

unknown: my name is matt, by the way 😊

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot #hockey writing #nhl writing #calgary flames oneshot #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames writing #matthew tkachuk writing #calgary flames #my writing

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incongruousstrawberry · 3 years ago

Text

Lizzy & Kei (Tsukishima Kei x oc) pt. 3

Word count: 1.8k.

Tags: post-time skip, eventual smut (much later), friends to lovers.

Lizzy & Kei pt. 2

Pt. 3 - Celebrations

When Kei, Lizzy, and Louis came out of the squared, grey university building that hosted their classes, the latter raised his arms to the sky in triumph. “We must celebrate our victory!” he said dramatically.

The three friends had just received their presentations’ grades and they all got the best grade. “Imagine: a big warm fireplace, long and worn wooden tables, huge tankards of beer, and an entire boar!” Louis continued.

Lizzy started giggling. “Who are you, Robert Baratheon?”

Kei looked at her, snickering, and he noticed that her smile widened when their eyes met briefly.

“Well, I’m surely more refined than him, but why not?” Louis adjusted his yellow scarf snobbishly and then proceeded to walk in a royal manner, screaming “Wine!” and waving the long line of wool around.

Kei looked at Louis and snickered again. “Careful not to get run over by a boar too.”

Lizzy cackled loudly but then hid her face behind a hand in a hit of guilt. Louis was still acting all royal and he looked at Kei with a benevolent gaze. “Your overflowing love for me is always touching, Kei.”

Lizzy giggled and little puffs of water vapour flew out of her mouth. She looked at the street in front of her, a long boulevard orderly marked by lindens and shiny lampposts, then she stopped abruptly and turned toward Louis, a serious curiosity in her look. “Did you ask Amanda out?”

“Yes! Actually, I asked her to join us on one of our outings. It’s alright, right? Right?” he asked with his brows raised and puppy eyes.

Kei and Lizzy looked at each other. Kei groaned and his head seemed to retract a bit in the neck of his jacket, while Lizzy replied to Louis excitedly. “Sure, but are you sure you want her to meet this big little ogre? She could get scared,” she said while pointing her thumb toward Kei.

Kei tsked. “Says the gremlin.” A close look would reveal a trace of amusement in his golden eyes.

“Hey! I’m not a gremlin!” Lizzy exclaimed, jokingly offended.

Louis barely contained his excitement. “That’s a yes, right? Thank you guys, this means a lot to me!” Before Kei had the chance to avoid it, Louis was hugging the both of them with a bright smile on his face; then he started walking again, his step cheerful. “Oh, by the way, she’s going to meet us at the pub… today.”

Kei groaned again and Lizzy looked at Louis with a slightly annoyed expression. “You invited her before asking us first? Not cool, man, not cool.” The girl’s annoyance, though, didn’t last long and her expression soon softened as she added, “But we’ll forgive you this time, right Kei?”

Kei grumbled in response and wondered how Lizzy could be so kind to that moron of his friend. The girl was walking happily with her arms swinging back and forth and Kei couldn’t help to think how childish she looked at that moment, but what surprised him was that he thought she looked quite endearing too. He soon found himself observing her cheerful gaze and her slightly pointed chin and sighed silently.

The group soon arrived at the pub where they were going to celebrate their achievements, a place they had never tried before with a big old orange sign and a large glass entrance door. Amanda was waiting for them beside the aforementioned entrance wearing a voluminous coat with fake fur on the hood. Her blond bob was perfectly styled, straight and shiny, and Lizzy thought she emanated some sort of friendly confidence.

“Hello guys!” she said with a big smile.

Lizzy immediately approached her and shook her hand. “Hi, I’m Lizzy.” Kei knew she was forcing herself; she wasn’t as confident as she was trying to appear, but she was polite, so she always tried to overcome her shyness. He remained with his hands in his pockets, murmuring his name as an introduction.

“Amanda! I’m glad you came. Let’s go inside, it’s so cold here.” Louis took the lead and opened the door for them.

After a while, they were comfortably sitting on a big wooden table with rectangular paper placemats and big – or one could say tall – menus. Louis had gone sitting in front of Amanda, so Kei was in front of Lizzy.

“I’m really craving for a hamburger,” said Lizzy, whose face was half-covered by the cardboard. She felt quite shy, having a new person in the group, but she was trying to be her usual self and have fun.

Louis was clearly excited and he kept looking at Amanda and his friends. “I want fries. Would you like fries, Amanda?”

“Of course.” The blond girl seemed rather easy-going and Lizzy felt relieved at that discovery.

The pub was full, quite noisy but still pleasant. In the background, they could hear rock music from the 60s and Kei thought that Lizzy would have probably liked the song that was playing at that moment and a second later she started shaking her head following the rhythm, confirming his hypothesis.

“You two guys gave a terrific presentation.” Amanda was looking at Lizzy and Kei with what seemed a genuine enough smile.

“Thank you. I’ve heard yours and you must have got a very nice grade too, right?” Lizzy replied.

“Yeah, I’m quite happy. Having Louis in our group helped. He’s such a good motivator.”

Louis was already blushing, so Kei gave him a gentle pat on the back, trying to help him get a hold of himself.

A waiter who spoke excessively loudly came to take their orders. He was clearly in a rush and distracted, and when he repeated Lizzy’s order he seemed to have missed that she had asked for no pickles in her hamburger. The girl opened her mouth in an attempt to say something, but the man left before she had the chance.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Kei said soon after, and he left the table with a pace that was slightly faster than usual.

Lizzy thought he was going to the restroom, but when she looked around the room she saw him speaking to the same waiter who had served them, and soon after the man wrote something down on his small, dark notebook.

Kei then returned to the table without a word and Lizzy couldn’t help but stare at him, wondering if he had really done what she thought he had.

When the hamburgers arrived, she carefully opened hers and saw that there were no pickles in it. She glanced at Kei and when the boy met her eyes she asked in a barely audible voice. “Was it you?”

Kei stared at her for a moment and whispered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That took Lizzy aback, but she was sure it had been his merit, so she ended up poking Kei’s arm with her index finger, a sweet smile accompanying the gesture. To her surprise, Kei smiled back at her, a true, genuine, outlined smile.

Lizzy started to feel her cheeks warming, but luckily her attention was then grabbed by Amanda’s voice. “Have you guys heard of The Yellow Jackals? They’re going to play in a nice bar not so far from here two Saturdays from now.”

Lizzy’s eyes immediately lit up. “Really? I’ve heard of them! They make both covers and original songs, right?”

“Yes. I’ve seen them once before and they are really cool. You like rock music too?”

Lizzy answered with an energetic nod and Kei thought that the girl always shined when she was talking about something she was passionate about.

Louis, who was drinking some beer when the conversation had begun, put the mug down. “We should all go together!”

They all agreed, cheerful smiles painted on their faces. Then Lizzy and Louis turned to Kei, who suddenly found two sets of expecting eyes staring at him. He replied with a surprisingly neutral “Okay” and took a long sip of coke to avoid further questions.

“The barman there knows a thing or two about cocktails, so we could get some drinks too,” said Amanda, and then she took a long sip of her beer, the quick movement of her hand grabbing the mug making her bracelets jingle.

When the group was done with its meal, Amanda – who already seemed a bit tipsy after her beer – stood up and joyfully looked at the others. “There’s a table football in the back of the pub. Shall we play?”

The group agreed: Lizzy went joyfully to it and put herself in the attack position, immediately followed by Amanda, who stood next to her in defence. Kei went around the table and put himself in defence too, in front of Lizzy, and Louis, the last one to join because he was emptying his mug, occupied the last spot. “Let the game begin!” he said emphatically after throwing the first ball.

Kei had already played with Louis a couple of times and he knew that his game style was totally random, but he was surprisingly curious about the style of Lizzy and Amanda.

“Take this!” Lizzy made an incredible diagonal shot with her side attacker and the ball got shot so quickly in the goal that Kei didn’t have the time to react.

A competitive smirk showed up on his face as Lizzy was celebrating. “Don’t think I’ll let you score again.”

Lizzy looked at him defiantly. “It’s not about whether you let me or not, I’ll just do it!”

Differently from Lizzy, Amanda proved to be as clueless as Louis was, so the two teams were quite balanced. It didn’t matter what they did, the ball always ended up in the defence area of Kei’s team. Lizzy and he kept bouncing it around, one trying to score, the other to block it. Every now and then Kei and Lizzy’s eyes met and they exchanged some combative gaze or some trash talk. They were having a lot of fun.

In the end, Lizzy’s team won by one point. After whispering a curse, Kei made a resigned smile. Lizzy and Amanda high-fived happily and then the blond girl patted Kei’s shoulder. “Next time, tall guy.”

Louis, who couldn't care less of losing the game, immediately jumped in. “Yes, we should play again some other time!”

Then they went out of the pub, walking calmly along the sidewalk, Amanda and Louis in the front talking about professors and classmates, Kei and Lizzy in the back, momentarily in silence.

After a while, Lizzy talked. “You made me sweat every goal.” She was looking in front of her, her lips turned just a bit upward.

“That’s the purpose, right?” Kei couldn’t help but smile slightly at her.

“But I still won.” Lizzy gloated a little – it was clear she was doing that just to tease him.

“This time,” the boy answered.

Lizzy turned toward him, a sly look on her face. “Oh, then we can have a re-match next time we go there.”

Kei answered with confidence. “I’ll take that smirk out of your face.”

Lizzy laughed and Kei saw her breath appearing and disappearing fast in the cold autumn air, only to soon realize that he was now staring at her bright brown eyes, at her little nose, at her full lips.

#tsukishima x oc #tsukishima kei x oc #hq x oc #haikyuu!!#tsukishima kei #clerwrites #haikyuu x oc #slow burn #slow romance #lizzy & kei

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forzafinally · 3 years ago

Note

I'm a different anon and you can not post this if you don't want to.

Frankly this last year I've been getting annoyed with Harry because it just seems it's constantly one "bad choice" after the another. It's not a thing about pedastal because I don't put people in my real life whom I know on a pedastal so I'm definitely not gonna do it for a stranger because in my experience everyone is grey and not black and white

But with him jumping countries in middle of a pandemic ( and It's not like the whole of celebrity class was doing it. Many were BUT many did take a conscious decision to stay home. So no it was not all celebrities ) to doing my policeman signed at the same time of the BLM posts of his to breaking covid norms multiple times to being mum about the tickets people payed for because the tour is not happening rn the August shows aren't happening he isn't practicing with his band. They are all at different places to this new scandal ( even though it's his personal life but still it seems like a pattern in his behaviour ). And about music and fashion....I don't think we're getting music for a years and he's been a Gucci manequin for a while the fashion he had was all left in hs1 era

Idk it just seems like he's so out in touch with reality that I can't even enjoy his content because lately every single thing has been just a big flag about how out of it he really is.

I'm putting my answer below the cut so that I don't spam the dash

Your points are valid. Funnily enough the breaking point so to speak for me, was the covid merch he was selling in April last year. At that time I had just started working in the covid wards in my hospital and it was a mentally exhausting experience for me to see so much death for the first time in my life as a 23 year old. And then this rich white man drops a t-shirt saying "this t-shirt fights covid 19"??? The sheer audacity of it baffled me. It was one of the few times I've genuinely seen red because you're actually profiting off a worldwide pandemic. What the hell were you thinking.

Apart from my personal feelings regarding the matter many people had lost their jobs at the time and it was so callous to drop new merch then. Ofc you can argue that no one is obligated to buy merch. But I mean we all know how stan culture works don't we. Also Harries were dragging Louis for dropping merch just a couple of weeks before but suddenly it was radio silence all around because it was Harry dropping merch so it was apparently okay.

It did put me off the fandom for a long time yk but that's also probably why I'm so desensitized to what he does regarding his pandemic travels and the my policeman movie or even the way he hasn't given you guys a proper update about tour because he's living in a different reality than we are(see : not having to worry about money or racism).

Ofc everyone has a different limit. I chose to stay for my reasons. You are valid if you choose to leave for your own. There's no right or wrong answer. But whatever you decide to do I support you because unless you really go out of your way to block things out it's very easy to get bitter with the whole thing and at the end of the day your happiness is what should matter for you more than any celebrity

#asks #anonymous #fandom discourse #long post

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cali-holland · 4 years ago

Text

Golden Bullets, Ch. 3: All The Time in the World

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond!AU

Harrison Osterfield, Agent 007, was once the best MI6 agent around with the astounding reputation as a womanizer. Between illegal gold smuggling and black market trading of weapons, he finds himself deeper in his latest mission than intended, weaving himself into a web of the criminal organization, S.P.E.C.T.R.E.. At the center of it all is the one woman who’s never fallen for his charms- you, Agent 006, the best MI6 agent, the new assistant director of the program, and his new partner.

Word Count: 3000

Gif is not mine

Golden Bullets Masterlist

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

Warnings: violence (using toiletries as weapons bc why not), death, swearing, involuntary drug usage, drinking, vomiting (self-inflicted)

Featured Song: We Have All the Time in the World by Louis Armstrong from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969)

~ “We have all the time in the world, time enough for life to unfold all the precious things love has in store”

~~~

“That can’t be her real name.”

“Tom, I’m being serious.” Harrison said, but even he couldn’t disguise the amused grin on his face when describing the intoxicatingly beautiful woman that was Pussy Galore to the quartermaster.

“Sounds like a horny teenage boy named her, right?” You joked, sitting beside Harrison on the hotel room couch. The laptop was propped up on the coffee table so that you and Harrison could both video chat with Tom, discussing the previous night.

“Is that your bullet wound?” He asked as he stepped closer to the camera, as if that’d help him see your bandaged arm better. Following last night’s events, it was difficult for you to really move your arm fluidly, so you had opted to wear a tank top on your day “off”. You leaned in, carefully taking off the bandage to show the damaged skin and stitches.

“Hurts like a bitch, but I’ll live.” You told him.

“Nice stitch work, 007. Practicing needlework in your spare time?” The quartermaster teased.

“Shove off.” Harrison rolled his eyes at his friend’s comment while you laughed, fixing the bandage, “Did you finish getting the specs on the flash drive?”

“I’m trying, but there seems to be an issue.” Tom stated, his eyes trailing over another computer screen. You looked down at the golden flash drive currently connected to the laptop. Sciarra was dead and all you had from last night was that one flash drive, you and Harrison both needed it to lead back to Goldfinger.

“You’re the greatest hacker of the century. What could possibly prevent you from getting past this flash drive’s security?” You asked.

“Thank you for the compliment, love, but I can’t hack it from here. It appears the security system on this drive is a replica of one I made, which should mean I can get into it from here, but it seems like I made it too sophisticated.” He paused, with a sigh, “I have a hunch about who could be behind this kind of security system.”

You looked between him and Harrison, both agents seemingly to wordlessly agree on who could be behind the drive. Knowing you’d want an answer, Harrison spoke up, “It’s Raoul Silva.”

“You mean the former agent turned cyberterrorist? I thought you killed him last year.” You said, and he gave you an odd look, “What? I told you I read your file, Osterfield.”

“I’m flattered you remember my cases.” He smirked, before Tom cleared his throat on the screen.

“As I was saying, I need to physically have the drive attached to my computer to get through its security and hopefully track Goldfinger. Silva was connected to numerous weapons dealers, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he helped Goldfinger set up security before he died.”

“So you can’t hack this?”

Tom looked at Harrison with furrowed eyebrows, questioning his friend. “Can’t hack this? Did you not listen to anything I just said? What exactly do you think my expertise is?”

“Sitting behind a computer screen.” He joked.

“Well, I'll hazard I can do more damage on my laptop sitting in my pajamas before my first cup of Earl Grey than you can do in a year in the field.” Tom said, and you laughed, nodding, fully aware of his skills, “Either way, I’ll meet you two in Montenegro to finish on the flash drive.”

“Montenegro?” You and Harrison both questioned.

“Right.” He laughed a little, realizing you two didn’t know about your next step of the mission, “M will call you two later tonight. I don’t know all the details, but I know you two are going to Montenegro, so I assume I’ll be meeting you there.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Montenegro.” Harrison smiled fondly.

“I’ll let you two go. M should be calling soon.” Tom said before ending the call. You let out a small sigh, leaning back on the couch comfortably.

“Have you ever been to Montenegro?”

“Once, but not on a mission.” You replied, not really wanting to discuss your past trip. Unfortunately for you, your partner was observant and caught onto that- and he was also a bit of an asshole, so he pressed the topic.

“You know, I tried reading the Montenegro part of your file, but almost everything was redacted because the clearance of that file is only you and M.” He stated, watching you carefully as you shifted uncomfortably, tightening your jaw.

“What about it?”

“Who did you kill in Montenegro that is so private only you and M can know?” He questioned, and you glared over at him.

Before you could reply, the laptop began to ring, signaling an incoming call from M. You sat up on the couch, answering it.

“Agent 006, 007.” She greeted with the normal stern look on her face.

“M.” You and Harrison both nodded in reply to her.

“Q tells me you two found a flash drive, one suspected to be linked to Goldfinger.” She started, “And that Sciarra is dead.”

“The sniper got to him before we could get him in the DB10.” Harrison explained, and you swallowed a lump in your throat as M’s cold eyes trailed over the bandage on your arm.

“I also heard the sniper shot 006.” She said, “Tomorrow, you two will leave for Montenegro. Agent 009 has been tracking a private banker who funds terrorists, Le Chiffre. Le Chiffre seems to be Goldfinger’s competition at the moment. 009 reported multiple murders of Le Chiffre’s men with golden bullets through their skulls, all of which are sniper shots.”

“Forgive me, M, but if Agent 009 is on the case, then why are we going after Le Chiffre as well?” Harrison asked, voicing the question that was also floating around in your head. Why would MI6 need three agents on a private banker case?

“Because last we heard from 009 himself, he was being followed by Le Chiffre, and last night, local police found him tortured to death. His balls were so beaten, they could barely identify him as a man anymore- one of Le Chiffre’s signature torture methods.” At her words, Harrison squirmed uncomfortably beside you, subconsciously resting a hand over his crotch protectively. “Since Sciarra is a dead end until Q cracks that flash drive, Le Chiffre is our next best lead to Goldfinger.”

“When do we leave tomorrow?” You spoke up.

“I am working with the Monaco police right now to acquire a private jet for the two of you. I will let you know in the morning. And, remember, this mission is not a personal one.” With that, she hung up the call and you shut off the laptop, getting up from the couch.

“What happened in Montenegro?” Harrison asked you, standing up from his spot on the couch. You didn’t reply as you pulled on a sweatshirt to hide your bandage. Wordlessly, you grabbed the ice bucket and left the hotel room.

You didn’t really need ice, but it wouldn’t hurt to ice your arm or tense muscles- besides, you needed to be away from your partner for a few minutes. Harrison was definitely getting more bearable, but you didn’t exactly want to tell him about Montenegro, not yet. When you came back from getting the bucket of ice, you saw a hotel room service busboy, standing outside of your door. Just before he knocked, you spoke up, “Is that for room 1964?”

“Yes.” The busboy replied almost nervously, holding up a bucket of champagne out to you.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you took the bucket from him, balancing it with your own ice bucket. He nodded, before disappearing down the hall. You laughed to yourself as you looked at the expensive bottle of champagne; leave it to Harrison to want to drink before leaving Monaco. Unlocking the hotel room door, you pushed it open, and Harrison looked up from his phone as he laid down on his bed.

“Champagne?” You offered, setting down the buckets on the coffee table.

“Why not celebrate Monaco?” He laughed. Both of you sat down on the couch, and he effortlessly popped open the champagne bottle. You held up two empty flute glasses for him to pour the champagne into.

“To Monaco.”

“To Monaco.” You clicked your glass against Harrison’s before both of you took sips of the smooth liquid.

“Does this taste odd to you?” Harrison asked, licking his lips from the very small amount of champagne that had actually made it in his mouth before he spit it back in.

“I’m not the person to ask. It’s been a while since I had nice champagne like this.” You laughed, taking another sip of the golden drink.

“It’s probably just too fancy for my tastebuds.” He chuckled, eyeing the glass.

“With all the martinis you drink, your tastebuds must be dead.” You teased, already starting to feel cloudy from the alcohol. You wondered how high the proof was, but that thought was gone as quickly as it came. “You drown yourself in martinis- shaken, not stirred.”

“Martinis are superior. You’d know that if you’d drown yourself in anything.” He quipped back.

“It’d take a while for me to drown in anything- I can hold my breath for six minutes.” You replied confidently, sipping some more of the champagne.

“I can only hold my breath for two. That’s impressive.” His eyes widened in surprise at the little fun fact.

“Most people can only hold them for two, but I was a swimmer growing up and I practiced holding my breath for long periods of time. I’ve got the best lungs on MI6.”

“And the best shot, too, the way I hear it.” Harrison laughed a little, before leaning in closer to you on the couch. Your face was close enough to his that you could feel his breath, and you felt yourself starting to, ironically, drown in his ocean blue eyes. With his voice low and just above a whisper, he asked, “How does someone get the reputation of a maneater?”

“How does someone get the reputation of a womanizer?” You replied, just as quietly. Pulling away from him, you took another long sip of your champagne, the once full glass now empty. The room fell silent before you solemnly spoke up, “I killed him.”

“Who?”

“My weakness.” You rolled up your tank top just enough to show the bullet wound scar on your hip. “I was in Montenegro on vacation with my last boyfriend. I spotted Le Chiffre at a casino, and I called M for permission to strike. When I returned to the hotel room, my boyfriend was there with Le Chiffre- he’d been working for him the whole time. I took a shot at him, but I missed, and he shot me. Then, I shot him again, but that time, I didn’t miss. The only reason Le Chiffre didn’t kill me was Agent 009. Le Chiffre ran, and 009 saved me.”

“So, Montenegro is-”

“Where I became the maneater.” You said. Harrison reached a hand out to touch the scar, but you slapped his hand away, fixing your shirt.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He replied, his voice filled with pity. You could tell he wasn’t just apologizing for overstepping and trying to touch the scar- no, he was apologizing for ever thinking less of you based on your reputation and he pitied you for your story, for all you had to go through to get that name. It was then that you realized he hadn’t really had much to drink of the champagne.

“Why’d you order this if you weren’t going to drink it?” You asked, and Harrison furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“What are you talking about?”

“The champagne. You ordered it when I got ice?”

“I didn’t order this.” The room fell silent, save for the clattering of your champagne flute against the floor from you dropping it.

“Neither of us ordered this?” You questioned, and he shook his head. Immediately, you got up and stumbled to the bathroom, only making Harrison more confused.

“What are you doing?” Harrison followed after you.

“I’m puking because I was just fucking drugged. No wonder I’m so goddamn talkative right now.” You stated, sitting down in front of the toilet. You looked over at him in the hallway, “Are you going to call Q and have him analyze the champagne or are you going to watch me vomit up whatever drug is in my body? You had less than me, so figure out what happened.”

“How the fuck did someone drug us?” He grumbled, closing the door and rushing back into the room. He pulled up the laptop and called the quartermaster.

“I was just about to call you.” Tom said with a laugh, but his smile dropped as he saw Harrison pouring some champagne into a testing vial.

“Find out what’s in this. We’ve been drugged.” He explained, placing the vile on one of Q’s special testing trays, equipped for analyzing substances through the computer. The computer couldn’t figure out exactly what the substance was, but Q, being the genius he is, could based on the computer’s analysis.

“How did two of Britain’s top agents get drugged with a bottle of champagne?” Q asked, typing away at his computer. Harrison grimaced, hearing the distinct sounds of you in the other room. “Is- Is Agent 006 vomiting?”

“Yes, she’s trying to clear out her system.”

“Shouldn’t you be doing that too?” He looked at his friend skeptically.

“I didn’t even have a full sip of the champagne and it’s been in my system long enough that it’s already effective. She drank an entire glass flute, so however potent this drug is, she had a lot of it.”

“Well, you two got lucky.” Tom breathed out, reviewing the results. “It was a harmless drug, it’s not poisonous or anything. It’s meant to disorient you, weaken your fighting, and make you more conversational. It’s used for interrogations.”

“So that means-“ Before Harrison could finish his thought process, there was a knock at the hotel room door. He quietly shut off the computer, ending the phone call swiftly, and grabbed the golden flash drive, pocketing the valuable object. Grabbing his gun and yours, he softly moved across the room to conceal himself behind the wall.

“Room service.” A voice behind the door called, and Harrison quietly cocked his gun while pocketing yours.

In less than a moment, the door burst, and he kept himself quiet against the wall, hoping the silence in the bathroom meant you knew what was happening out here. Based on the sound of feet, Harrison calculated there were three men in the room now. One stepped past the wall, gun raised as he surveyed the room. Harrison stepped forward, shooting the man dead immediately.

Meanwhile, your ears perked up as you heard multiple footsteps outside the door. Your head was spinning from the drug concoction and the fact that you forced yourself to throw up. It wasn’t until you heard the first gunshot that you knew it was bad.

“Harrison,” You mumbled, pulling yourself up from the floor. Looking around the bathroom, you cursed at the lack of sharp objects. Grabbing your tweezers from the counter, you supposed they’d have to do. You flung open the bathroom door, jabbing the tweezers into the neck of the man nearest you. You kicked the other man down, pressing onto his neck with your foot.

“You’re okay.” Harrison breathed out, coming to stand beside you after he shot the other man, the one with the tweezers in his neck, again.

“Still light headed.” You replied. The man below you moved and Harrison was quick to point his gun at him threateningly. You stepped back, allowing his steadier foot to replace yours.

“Who sent you?” He questioned.

“G-Goldfinger.” The man wheezed out.

“And was it Goldfinger who made you drug us? How did you find us?”

The man just laughed in response, and you heard the sounds of the police sirens flooding down the street.

“They heard the shots. We gotta go.” You said, and Harrison nodded. You quickly loaded the bags as your partner kept a watchful eye on the enemy. Knowing there was no way you and Harrison could escape if the police got involved, you two left the other man there, alive but weak.

“Next time, no champagne.” Harrison stated once the two of you were seated in the DB10. You sent a quick message to Moneypenny, who would send the word onto M that you and Harrison were en route in the DB10, no private jet necessary tomorrow. Considering how long the drive was, you knew it’d be enough time for you two to meet with Q in Montenegro and catch Le Chiffre.

“You’re going to drive us to Montenegro in this car, and I’m going to forget I ever told you anything about that god awful place.” You groaned, leaning your head against the window. “What did they drug us with?”

“Q says it’s a harmless interrogation drug.” He replied, flicking his eyes over to you, a new softness to them, “Get some rest, you’ve had a rough go.”

You turned to face ahead, trying to get yourself comfortable, and the car was silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the DB10 moving against the road and the quiet Duran Duran song playing over the speakers. You looked over at Harrison, who had his eyes trained on the road, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He asked, genuinely curious about the sudden appreciation.

“For saving me yesterday and patching me up.” You said softly, studying his face for a moment, before shifting to look ahead once more. “I’d do the same for you.”

“Let’s hope you’ll never have to.”

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland @where-art-thau-romeo

Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01 @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @spencerreidxoxo

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield series #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 3 years ago

Text

FIC: Pink Moon Rising

Notes: Erzulie - Gina Torres Agwe - Gary Dourdan Ogoun - Jimmy-Jean Louis Damballah - Elvis Nolasco Baron - Mustafa Shakir Maman Bridgette - Saorise Ronan Filomez - Logan Browning Ti Malice - John Boyega Papa Legba - Sydney Poitier Anaisa Pye - Danai Gurira

----

Jo knew the moment that the letter box had a raised signal that there was something peculiar going on at that point.

They rarely got mail - most post going to the bar and she or Grey would pick most up whenever they went by to either do work or visit Harry, sometimes the researcher would bring any post with him for a movie night instead - and usually only ever junk mail and not worthy of the flag going up.

She wrapped Nana’s leash around her wrist a few times as the dog pulled and tugged impatient to go inside and have some water, and flipping the mail box open; Jo frowned at the light pink envelope with something written harshly in jagged lettering in red on one side and some design on the other. Picking it up and finally heading inside and unclipping the dog as she went running down the hall towards the kitchen and her water bowl, Jo flipped the letter back and forth over her wrist as she walked after at a slower pace.

“What you got there, Jo?” Grey’s voice pulled her out of her pondering, the flipping stopping after a moment as she moved around to press a quick kiss to the back of his neck on her way past to grab a juice out of the fridge.

“Letter.”

“Oh? Did Harry come around?”

“Nah, it was in the letter box.”

“We got a letter in the letter box?”

“I did.” She replied as she moved to sit down at the kitchen table, flipping the envelope upwards to face her - taking in her name clearly but jaggedly written across the front in the dark reddish brown ink, with a few dots bled across the front. Running her finger over her name, Jo lifted her finger to her nose before pulling a face realizing it hadn’t been ink at all. Perturbed, she flipped the letter back over and sucked in a breath at the delicate design all the same dark red - blood, not ink, as she’d identified - with two waves curling opposite each other, forming a heart alongside the soft swirls and the biblical-like crosses stabbing through the center of it. A design Jo was used to drawing on a rundown floor in dust or carving into a candle. “Oh.”

“You got a letter? Here?” Grey’s voice was tinged with worry from what she could hear, finger still running gently over the design and not yet daring to break the seal. “Who’s it from then?”

“A.. friend, I hope.” She muttered the last words as quietly as possible, a tiny frown on her face before sliding a finger under the envelope tongue and slowly tearing it open.

Pulling the single card out from inside, Jo let out an unexpected laugh at the design on the front - a soft pink moon with three circles underneath it all in a soft shimmering card stock - and the swirly lettering stating ‘You’re Invited!’ written across it. Opening the card itself, there was a date, time and address as well as three little crosses in the bottom corner all in the same not-ink writing as the envelope.

“What is it, Jo?” Jo jerked a bit at the hand on her shoulder as the shadow came over to look, a concerned look on his face that she’s sure came from her laughter and the peculiarity of it altogether.

“It’s an invitation, hun. I’ve got a… party to go to, maybe.”

—

Jo let out a quiet sigh to herself as she actually found herself out front of the building compound listed at the address on St Charles Avenue. It was definitely not somewhere she would usually be found, but as she had gotten out of her car and walked up the block towards the place, she found herself glad that she’d decided to wear something nice as she looked up at the ornate doorway of the exquisite old building. It helped the layered yellow dress she’d gotten the previous year and the jeweled sandals matched with it so well but both allowed her comfort while looking in keeping with the sophistication of the event. It also helped that the skirt of her dress was flowy enough to allow a pair of thin bike shorts underneath that likewise let her wear two thigh holsters for a pair of knives, just in case - she had been invited after all, but she wasn’t completely foolish.

Stepping through the wrought iron gates of the external courtyard from the street into the space, Jo blinked in confusion as the sounds of the traffic outside disappeared and were replaced with the sweet sounds of birdsong and the soft sound of music echoing out from the doors of the building. The whole place felt peaceful yet joyful all at once, and something settled sharply in her stomach to be on guard against giving in to that feeling. She’d been tricked once before from it, and she wouldn’t give in again so quickly.

Moving along the path and up the old stone steps up to historic mansion - it's columns white and gleaming, with the white wrought iron spandrels and fretwork like beautiful spiderwebs spreading from one pole to the next over the wide porch as she made her way up. The wood didn't even groan under foot despite clearly being aged and worn in, lived in and welcoming to many, many guests over the years. The front door was intricately carved wood with brightly colored glass shards cut into the design like jewels. It all made a very beautiful and awe-inspiring visage, and as Jo lifted a hand to the elegant door knocker she half expected to be shooed off as an interloper, someone clearly not suited for such a place even with her designer dress and pretty shoes from someone who likely would fit in in such elegant surroundings.

There was an extremely tall man that opened the door, his face set in a firm but bland expression. "Invitation?"

"Oh, uh. Here?"

"Hmmm, Harvelle-" The man frowned for a moment and looked carefully at the invitation she'd handed over with a slight bit of trepidation and then pulled up a clipboard to review. There was a moment before he stepped back and to the side, door opening wider and a hand waving her in in greeting. "Welcome Ms. Harvelle. You'll find the party in the inner courtyard, and all gifts are to be presented when requested."

"Gifts?" Jo asked, confusion rife as she moved through the door and craned her neck up at the man as if he'd have an answer, before frowning in confusion as the welcoming smile slid off of his face and was replaced with the same bland look as before. His eyes looked glazed over though and unfocused as he took a step back to stand beside the door and almost blended into the shadows. Blinking a few times as they watered trying to keep his stare and catch his eye contact, she rubbed at her eyes a little before nervously making her way further into the grand house.

The floor felt strange underfoot, and glancing down, she was surprised to see the entire floor was covered in a thick layer of rose petals from the lightest whites to the deepest, darkest reds and all the shades in between. They were thick enough to coat the entire surface and the scent of roses came forth with each step but was somehow suitably subtle and delicate to the flowers themselves. The grandeur of the place was beyond anywhere Jo was used to visiting - art covered the walls of the entry foyer and then the hallway she slowly made her way into, and there were antiques in the Spanish, French and English styles as well as some clearly even more ancient designs that echoed the beadwork and colorful nature of Africa that somehow stood out even more in beauty against the other flourishes. Moving along the hall, turning left when she got through the first set of doors out of habit and then following the turn of the hall to the right - Jo stared in wonder at the light filtering through the next array of stained glass windows and double doors that opened into the inner courtyard where she could hear noise and see the shadows of figures moving around.

The courtyard was clearly where she was expected to go, as it was filled with guests milling about in different groups and the aurora of power from so many Pagan gods assembled in one place was electric. Her eyes darted about cautiously before entering the courtyard - taking in the wide number of people and the different postures across the space. That she could tell who was a god and who was merely mortal like her felt unsettling, the brightly colorful garb and confidence that rolled off of the gods so at odds with the people - horses, her mind supplied to her, or rather those that would wish to provide their bodies for possession and channeling of the gods and goddesses will - that were in mostly dull neutral clothes that hung from their frames but was not so standardised as she’d have expected. It was more the deference and slight bow of their heads that gave away those here as worshippers from those to be worshipped. There were still more people though - those mortals who offered other types of sacrifice than their own beings, clearly wearing their version of ‘Sunday Best’ and while not so subservient as the horses milling about, were still clearly deferent to the gods that moved through the space, heads tilted just that little bit or eyes just not able to hold direct eye contact with those they worshipped to. Wiping her sweaty hands cautiously against the fabric of her brightly colored dress, Jo took a calming breath before throwing her head back and stepping forward as confidently as possible once she’d taken in as much as she could from the secluded spot just before the doorway, eyes up and back straight, refusing to be thought as cowed by any of those with power in the space.

The purpose of the celebration was clearly easy to locate - the rattan throne raised up on a dais towards the centre of the courtyard was obvious and drew the eye. The peacock chair throne was resplendent in its detail the same was the goddess that sat upon it was glorious in the late-morning sun. Erzulie was holding her court.

Jo’s eyes locked onto the goddess’ after a few steps into the courtyard, and the slow smile that came across the goddess of femininity’s face grew with each step as she reached out a hand, beckoning to her as Jo moved slowly forward. Her wrists were covering in gold and beaded bangles, her golden rings shining catching the light as she called out in a warm, comforting voice, “Joanna! My darling girl, come here.”

It wasn’t a command at least, and Jo felt her own lips twitching into a smile at the way those between her and the one goddess she knew parted like the sea before her. Moving closer, the blonde barely concealed an eyeroll as she got to the raised platform acting as a dais that the beautiful goddess sat on. The rose petals were twice as thick on the platform, and Jo glanced in confusion as a man with thick braided hair stood up from a seat off to Erzulie’s right-hand side to take the brightly embroidered pillow from his chair and placed it a foot before the goddess with a smirk. Looking at the pillow and then back to meet the woman’s eyes, Jo quirked a brow at the other questioningly as the goddess stood.

“My sweet girl, how are you? Did you have a good trip down to my humble little party?” “I mean, New Orleans in Summer is a bit of the pits.” “So true, so true my dear. Much warmer here than that little lake you’ve taken to.”

Jo found herself holding back an eyeroll at that - the crisp summers at home compared to the muggy humidity of Louisiana were the difference of the sweat beads rolling down her back - and taking the goddess’ hand when she offered it before scowling slightly as she was guided down onto the bright pink cushion as Erzulie settled herself back onto her rattan throne with a ringing laugh.

“Apologies though, youngling, I unfortunately am not the one who can control the weather. Nor was I the one to name the date,” Erzulie shrugged a shoulder, the delicate golden chains that adorned her neck and shoulders rattling faintly with the movement as she shook out the yards of shimmering pastel pink silk that was draped over her body from the haltered dress the goddess wore about her to cover her own bejeweled, bare feet. Jo spotted the flash of toe rings on the feminine toes that poked out before being covered with the silk as she herself had plopped down indelicately onto the cushion at the goddess’ feet, uncaring if her shoes scraped up petals or her skirts caught between her legs. “You see, today is my feast day.”

“Happy birthday.” Jo snarked back with a smirk, picking at an invisible piece of lint from her lap before she looked back up at the other at the laugh that rang out again. “If I’d known, I’d’ve brought a present.”

“Ah, but already have - or rather, will - my little flower. It has been quite a time since you’ve made a devotional, after all, and I had hoped you would have done one before now so I could be my very, very shiny best-” The dark skinned goddess pouted, lips full and as pink as her dress as she looked the part of a spoiled child not having gotten her way, before she tossed her head back and gave another of those shrugs that made her necklaces and chains catch and shimmer in the light. Erzulie waved a non-commital hand again before she reached out to run the same over Jo’s own hair with a softer smile. “But then I thought, what better gift, my sweet, then for you to come and partake in the festivities yourself? Besides, half the point is the show after all, and your devotionals are always so… What word would you say, my love?”

The man who’d moved the pillow spoke then, even without Erzulie’s eyes moving from Jo’s face. “Awe inspiring, my beauty.” The man smiled - all teeth sharp and white like a sharks - towards Jo for a moment before glancing over his shoulder back towards the goddess’ face. “You will always in all ways be the most gorgeous woman of course, but you do always seem more refreshed and extra beautiful afterwards.”

“Oh you flatter me, my love.” Jo blinked in surprise to see the slight blush on the other woman’s face before she let out another loud laugh. “But you are right. You see, Joanna, your prayers are always so invigorating for an old lady like me. And I’d love to rub that in that good for nothing Anasia’s face that I have such a daughter.”

Blonde brow raised, Jo blinked a few times as the goddess’ words before she shrugged a shoulder of her own in return. It was true she hadn’t called upon the other’s powers in some time - her hunts more straight forward lately and even more sparsely in between as she had spent more time working on answering hunter queries and helping research than actively hunting for a while, soaking in the chance to be at home during the warm months to spend with her love and baby girl instead of in her sweltering car on the road - and if the answer to getting home safe and sound was to light a candle and say her usual prayers for safety and protection, it wasn’t like that would be hard. Sitting on a cushion like a pet at the others feet however, that was not so easy, and shuffling uncomfortably, Jo raised her other brow before sighing.

“I suppose that would have ta do for a gift, right? Can’t really pull anythin’ out of my pockets when I hadn’t planned anythin’.” “So true, but don’t you worry my dear, I can promise to appreciate it the most.”

“Even more than my gift?” The man standing to the left of Erzulie’s throne spoke then, dark brown eyes sparkling with the same humour as his tone as he placed a hand over the other’s shoulder. “Why, I am hurt, my love, absolutely skewered through. I thought my love meant something!”

Erzulie let out another loud laugh, her hand moving from Jo’s hair to catch the man’s hand and pressing a bright pink lipped kiss to the palm of his hand - an imprint left behind as she squeezed his fingers. “You think so very highly of yourself, don’t you, husband-dear?”

“Of course, my dear, I’ve always done so. A snake may change his skin, but he doesn’t change what he is.” “Damballah, you think your gift outshone mine?” “Given mine did not smell of seaweed, Agwe, I am absolutely certain it did.” “Mine did not smell like seaweed, you good for nothing snake-”

The back and forth between the two men was quick and fast, Jo barely registering the jokes of the two as her mind scrambled to assign the name of Damballah, the serpent father, to the standing man and the title of Agew the sea god to the man that had set the pillow down for her. Blinking rapidly, her eyes quickly jerked between both men, scanning anything that would be recognisable before she noted the golden rings each wore with their own symbol that matched two of the three rings on Erzulie’s own hand as she laughed and batted at the both of them. Turning her eyes over towards the quiet, stoic man that sat to Erzulie’s left in front of Damballah, Jo noted the ring on his hand barely visible under his own long sleeves despite the heat matched the goddess’ last ring - identifying him as the third and last of her husbands, Ogoun the warrior. As the three others continued to speak, their tones warm and playful even if the gods both had a slight undertone of threat to it, Jo found herself simply staring back at the silent, considering look she was getting from the third.

“Come on, girlie.” Jo jerked in surprise at the hand that fell on her arm as the sea god got back to his feet with another of those sharp, white smiles. “We’ll have to show you around to our love’s guests before the devotionals and sacrifices start. It’s all part of the spectacle to show you off after all.”

“I, uh, that is, I’m not-” The hunter stammered a few times as the god stood in front of her and held out his hand to help her up. Panicked, Jo’s eyes darted back to her patron’s for a moment, as if uncertain what to do. Erzulie really was the only one she even knew how to interact with at all in the room, but the goddess was smiling gently at her as she was pulled to her feet. “Um… o-okay?”

“Don’t worry, little huntress,” Agwe spoke gently a few moments later after he’d helped her back to her feet and down the steps from the dais and back into the milling, curious crowd. Jo’d noticed how Damballah had moved to reset the cushion onto the seat the sea-god had been on and taken the spot for himself as the pair had moved away, Erzulie’s attention taken up by her other two husband’s as her first had taken Jo away. His voice, the first husband’s, was soft and his green eyes caught her uncertain ones as she finally looked back from the centre of the room to catch his own. “You are here under my lovely wife’s complete protection, little one. Nobody here could touch you, even if they dared. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Oh will I? What makes you think I’m worried ‘bout that?” “The ear splittingly loud thudding of that heart of yours, first off-” “I am not-!” “And secondly, because my darling beauty did mention your first interaction with a crowd of gods may not have been so… comforting an experience as she hopes you will find this one.”

“Oh?” Jo breathed the word out in surprise, blinking widely as she glanced over her shoulder towards where the beauty still sat laughing with the men to either side. Surprised that the goddess might have understood or possibly even felt Jo’s uncertainty and fear the first time they had met. That a being with endless years and so little humanity left to her could remember and thought to ensure that Jo would feel comfortable was a peculiar feeling. Turning back to the speculative look she was receiving from the god holding her arm as he took two cups of some fruity drink from a passing waiter and held one out to her, Jo quirked a brow up at him. “And what makes you so certain I’m safe here? I know your, uh, pantheon of sorts isn’t known to be the most��”

“Cohesive?” “I was gonna say safe.” “Ouch, cruel! No wonder you are my love’s favored!” “Favored?”

“You think all of those who pray to my love gets their prayers answered?” Agwe sent her a surprised look in return as he took a sip of his own drink as Jo fiddled with the straw on hers, before letting out a loud crack of laughter that sounded like the oncoming book of thunder rolling over an unprepared sea. “Only the most special of our devotees get even more than a scrap of our attention, given our long lives and how little you little humans deserve of our attention. And you, dear flower, are by far my wife’s most favored and most devoted and most loved daughter.”

Jo barely held back the shudder at that thought. She took a sip of her drink mulling over the words as she was slowly led in an aimless circle around the room, as if the god leading her had no intention of actually introducing her about until he was certain of her mindset and understanding of the situation she had actually entered.

Swallowing the sugary sweet nectar from the mango drink, she closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and really looking around the assembled groups. When she’d arrived she had thought that it was simply the changes in clothes and the crackling of energy that could show the difference between the gods and those devotees at the party. And while that was true, she could see clearer now as she glanced about the different groups milling about. There was no touching, no interacting, no affection or care shown between the gods and the humans in the space. The way the mortals would defer and drop their gazes after a few seconds made complete sense - devoted, god-fearing humans of course feeling unworthy of attention or uncertainty at catching more than a little attention - but blinking her eyes, Jo found herself surprised to note how those she could see to be gods barely noticed those beneath them. Their gazes would slide over and off the mortals, never catching any amount of attention for more than a second, as if there was nothing of interest to them. That was, except when she would catch an eye looking at her that stared firmly back all around the room. Even the god holding her elbow gently was unusual, no other god seemed to even brush a human as they stood talking. Everything seemed so in tune towards the fact that people were boring to this crowd of gods, that humans were typically below notice.

“Oh.” “Very succinct of you, Joanna.” “It’s Jo.”

“Of course it is, Jo.” The correction took her by surprise, eyes jerking back to the smirking god beside her as if he knew he’d managed to catch her off guard. A large hand threw out gesturing about the space for a moment as they finished the first lap about the room towards his goddess wife. “But the point stands, as I hope you’ve noticed. You are safe here, for humans are both nothing to us, and you are also important to my love so will be safe here on her devotional day.”

“So I wouldn’t be if it wasn’t her party?” “Of course not. But it is. So you will be safe.” “Uh huh.”

There was a long sigh before the god beside her let out a chuckle. “Since you seem to have grasped some of it, let me introduce you around then. But no taking advantage of your protection to cause trouble-” The look she got from Agwe, as she raised a brow and opened her mouth as if to argue, was knowing and bemused. “You think I don’t realise only one as troublesome and unpredictable as my love would catch her attention? No, I see through you, girlie, and I would think better of some of it.”

“Only some?” “He means anything that would get you into the more fun kind of trouble.”

Jo let out a surprised yelp at the interruption from her other side, eyes wide and confused at being approached out of the blue by someone here. Everything seemed so strangely structured even though it wasn’t, and she half expected to be the one taken to be introduced to whomever Erzulie or her husbands’ decided to dictate she would. Blinking in surprise, she turned to look at the boyish grin on the man that had approached, taking in the roughishly bemused look on the man’s face.

Swallowing thickly on nothing, Jo shrugged a shoulder as she glanced back at the god that had let go of her arm at the other’s appearance before raising a brow at the newcomer. “What kind of fun is that?”

“My kind, I’m betting. Or perhaps Baron and Bridgette’s type.” The boyish charm didn’t leave at all as the god grinned at her still, his eyes shining with a warmth she hadn’t noticed had been missing in Erzulie’s companions until she saw it in this god’s eyes. There was a beat before a wide hand was held out towards her, and Jo let out a loud laugh as she shook his only to have an unexpected zap come from the touch. “My bad!”

“Ti Malice, are you up to your tricks again?” “Hey, I heard you promising safety not utter boredom. Lighten up, Agwe, or your wife might get bored of all three of you and be after some more fun.” “What makes you think anyone wants your kind of fun here?” “If I wasn’t wanted, my invitation would’ve gotten lost in the mail.”

“What makes you think it didn’t?” Jo could hear herself speaking before she recognised she’d even spoken, and getting a warm laugh from the man beside her felt like both an achievement and something easy to achieve all at once. Agwe simply gave a sigh and an eye roll as she turned to look at the new god. “Or would it not have mattered if it did get lost?”

“Oh it absolutely wouldn’t have mattered. I never miss a party when I can.” The god grinned back at her, all teeth but in a way filled with joy and excitement and not the slightly cold, predatory look that the sea-god’s smile gave off. There was a beat before the other smiled even wider and gave a exaggerated bow and hand gesture. “Since the cold fish won’t do it, may I introduce myself? Ti Malice, trickster-extraordinaire, pleasure to meet you.”

Jo let out a little giggle of her own at the flashy showmanship, her mind immediately recognising some of the flare to the god’s presentation from her experiences with her fake-trickster friend. “Nice ta meet cha, I’m Jo Harvelle.”

“There now, boring bits out of the way - we can get rid of the boring old seaman, right?” Ti Malice’s smirk should have sent a shiver down her spine if it had been directed at her, instead it was fully focused on the glaring god beside her who stared back for a long moment. “Oh come on, old man. You know I might be a trickster but I’m not an idiot. Besides, your wife is waving for you.”

Jo glanced back over her shoulder as did Agwe beside her, both to see Erzulie waving a hand towards them and calling barely audibly over the distance and the hum of conversation in the room for the sea-god himself. Jo glanced up at the taller god for a long moment before he gave her a sharp nod and turned to head back to his wife’s side. Blinking a few times, she was unsurprised to realise the trickster had stepped carefully closer on her other side that she shuffled an inch away, getting a laugh in response.

“Don’t worry, I’m far far more behaved than what my title suggests-” “Oh? Because I’ve some history with tricksters. And the last one I dealt with was a right piece’a work.” “Have you now? Which of us was that?” “Stupid fuckin’ fairy-”

Her grumbled words got a loud laugh from the trickster beside her, his laughter bouncing about the courtyard and cutting over and through other conversations like a booming thunderstorm. Jo blushed as she noticed several heads turn their way and staring for a long moment, fiddling with her dress awkwardly as she waited for the man beside her to unbend from his laughter.

“Oh! Oh no wonder you looked like you’d sucked a lemon! Not all of us are like him, I promise.” Ti Malice’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears of laughter as he finally righted himself, wiping at his eyes with a few warm chuckles. “I mean, we are all like that - but some of us are a little more fun and a little less sadistic.”

“That’s good to know-” “If you want sadistic though- come with me!”

Jo let out a surprised yelp as the god grabbed a hold of her closet wrist and tugged her quickly, pulling her through the crowd and weaving through the different groups milling about until he’d reached some unknown destination. She looked up from her feet, where she’d been focusing on not tripping over or slipping on the built up rose petals covering the uneven ground, to blink in surprise at the pair that the trickster god had brought her to.

A willowy, redheaded woman with pale skin that glowed in the warm sunlight that managed to dapple through the overhead tree canopy and an even taller man with skin as dark as hers was pale looked back at her curiously. Ti Malice’s grin was uncomfortably towards that edge of sadistic glee as he gave a tug to pull her in closer to the small little group. “Hey Mama and Daddy, want to see something strange? Look at this one!”

Jo jerked her hand back out of the god’s grip, temper flaring as she slapped away the hand flourishing towards her as if showing off something to the other two. The look of unrepentant on the trickster’s face was far too well suited to his boyish face, and she barely bit down snarling at him as she was gifted with a teasing tongue stuck out at her for a second.

“Malis, what trouble are you causin’ now?” The woman spoke softly, voice gentle and lilting with an Irish accent that matched up in Jo’s mind with her looks quickly. Glancing between the goddess and the man with his arm firmly around her waist, there was a second before Jo managed to work out the pairs identity as the Baron and his wife, Bridgette. “You sure you should be playin’ such games today?”

“Oh Erzy has a good sense of humor when she wants to-” “And you think today she does?” “Well, she will. Or else she’d’ve sent Ogoun over to stop me.”

“He isn’t wrong, renmen,” The Baron said, his voice a gruff growl. Jo barely stopped the shiver the god’s voice made want to happen, the tone rough and somehow bone-chilling for her. Likely something to do with the power the god of the dead held. There was a second before she managed to get control of herself again and glanced up to meet his piercing look straight on like none of the mortals in the whole space seemingly had, and couldn’t hold back the shiver at the next words spoken. “You have died.”

“Yeah, just the once.” Jo replied after a long, quiet moment between the quartet, unable to drop the death god’s gaze. “Fun times had by all, totally enjoyed chokin’ on my own blood. Would totally recommend it.”

“Would you now?” Jo swallowed thickly herself at the dark smile that graced the god’s face as he stared back at her undeterred from her sarcasm. Baron’s eyes stared her down for a further moment before he finally turned to look towards his wife with a wide grin. “I like this one.”

“Now, sweetie, I don’t think that’s goin’ ta work very well. You know how Erzulie is about bein’ the centre of attention and sharin’ anythin’.” Bridgette’s smile was just to the side of patronising as she gazed back at her husband for a moment before rolling her eyes at his shrug. Turning towards Jo, the redhead held out a dainty hand to shake. “Since neither of these men have any manners, I’m Bridgette, and this is my husband the Baron.”

“I guessed that.” Jo smiled back slightly, still processing what the pair had been talking about before shaking her head and taking the other woman’s hand. “ ‘m Jo. Erzulie’s my, uh, I guess patron?”

“Oh yes, that’d be the right term for you-” “Good to know.” “I much prefer my followers to be like that myself too. Unlike some others.” “Huh?”

“Not enough free will, sweetheart, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Bridgette waved a delicate hand around towards the rest of the crowd, pointing out towards the horses milling about in their dull clothes and heads entirely bowed to below that of the shortest god irrespective of their own height. There was a much older man, clearly an old god from the gnarled hands and grey hairs, that was seated and slumped slightly that they all kept to below despite his clear disinterest in being so measured against. And then likewise she pointed to some of the other devotees who kept their eyes downcast but in constant look out for if they’d spoken too loud or interrupted a god’s voice. “I mean, the power is nice and all, but I miss the irreverence of the Irish sometimes.”

“Oh, but don’t you think we deserve subservience?” The chirped voice sprang up on Jo’s other side, and jerking to the side, bumping into the grinning trickster, Jo looked surprised at the young looking woman beside her with a head full of thick curls and wide almond shaped eyes. Her pink dress matched the tones of Erzulie’s herself, and Jo blinked in surprise to see it - having figured the goddess would’ve wanted to be the only one in the color on her special day. “Hi! I’m Filomez, you must be Joanna Harvelle.” There was a second before the girl seemingly broke all patterns of the other pagans and moved forward to tug Jo into a tight hug. “Erzulie’s told me so much about you! I look forward to seeing your devotional later.”

“You’ll be partaking?” The rumbled words from the Baron were less surprising this time as Jo gave a few pats to the young woman’s back before the shorter goddess - one of the only ones near Jo’s own height - pulled back. “So that is the surprise, hmm.”

Jo gave a shrug of her shoulder as she shifted a little, uncertain if she should speak more or not as Malice seemed to jump in making up some story about an entire secret room of devotees that were due to arrive and bolster the beauty goddess’ powers to outshine everyone else in the space. Filomez nodded along, agreeing repeatedly and eyes wide and happy as she spoke about her ‘big sister’ having promised something spectacular. Jo’s stomach felt slightly queasy as she listened, finishing her drink slowly as she shrunk in on herself. It was pressure, and pressure on her she could tell, even if there was any sort of joke that it might not.

Looking around the space, she noted other gods and goddesses having arrived, and especially a beautiful woman in a bright yellow dress that almost outshone against Erzulie’s own glorious gown. Jo frowned noting it, looking around the courtyard for a moment and noting how that goddess seemed to stand out alongside Erzulie. All the others, while dressed ostentatiously and clearly in rich and vibrant colors, were not eye-catching and attention seeking in a way like the newly arrived goddess was. Filomez wore a soft baby pink dress that draped around her to show off her slim figure but it didn’t scream for attention, likewise Baron and Bridgette were matched in black and red clothes that sucked the light from around them but still didn’t draw attention to them over anyone else. Malice’s bright orange jumpsuit might have stood out anywhere else, but seemed considered and paired back in this crowd somehow. But the newly arrived goddess stood out, and in a way that, as Jo flicked a glance towards the centre of the room where Erzulie and her husbands sat to see the glare upon her goddess’ face, was inappropriate.

“Look what the cat dragged in-” “Don’t you mean ‘look out for the cat fight’, Malis?” “Same thing, Baron.”

Jo frowned slightly, attention drawn back to the group she stood near to notice the glare being delivered towards the newcomer from Filomez, and blinked a few times at noticing how the younger looking woman’s face had shifted. It was something she’d seen on Erzulie’s before, the shifting of which facet took control but without the entire change of hair style like the first time Jo’d met the goddess of women. “So, uh, who’s that?”

“Anaisa Pye. She thinks she’s better than my dearest sister.” Filomez spoke, voice harsh and gravelly to the exact opposite that it had been sweet and light before, and it wasn’t until a meaty hand landed on Jo’s head that she realised she’d been waiting for the goddess to speak some more.

Jerking in surprise, she looked up towards the person who’d interrupted to see the impassive looking face of Erzulie’s third husband, Ogoun, looking back at her. “You need to come with me.” The man’s voice was still so quiet, and after a moment he removed his hand and turned back towards the dais and started to walk without waiting for her.

Glancing back to the assorted gods she’d stood with, Jo was unsurprised to see Ti Malice’s eyes glittering with mischief as he opened his mouth to suggest she stay where she was. The other three were less clearly unbothered by the massive warrior god’s arrival and departure, and after raising a quick brow, Jo turned back towards the centre and headed towards her goddess. After all, if she was being summoned, it would be to pray; and then she’d likely be able to head home before any kind of troubles could start if the change in atmosphere she’d noticed since the goddess Anaisa Pye’s arrival spelt.

As she reached the dais, Jo was surprised to notice that the newly arrived goddess was standing before Erzulie herself, cocky smile to her face. “Why, Erzulie, old girl. How lovely to see you today! I hope you’ve not broken your back putting this all on, I wouldn’t want you straining anything.”

“Anaisa, you actually managed to get out of bed for once!” Erzulie replied snippily, eyes focused like a cat on it’s prey. “Tell me, did you make sure to get all the prayers for the year in before this? I mean, that’s the only way you’d get the energy to even make it here.”

“You underestimate my followers, as always. But I suppose you can’t have quite so devoted worshippers as the rest of us who fulfil their needs better, Erzie.” “Better? Oh, you mean by having so few calls that you’ve the time for all, what, three people who ever think to ask you for help, Annie?” “They can’t be all so desperate as to have to ask for yours, you know.”

Jo had to bite down on a smirk watching the two goddesses at each other’s throats as she waited patiently a few steps away. It wasn’t surprising to find that not all gods could stand one another, the animosity reminding her of the Irish couple she’d been exposed to - but without the underlying sexual tension, which she had to cover her mouth to stop from laughing thinking at that comparison.

She must have made a noise though, as Jo found herself with the attention of both goddesses upon her then, and shrinking back a step Jo scowled at the one closest to hers remark. “Oh, what a beautiful dress. I do so love yellow. Are you one of mine, human?”

“Anaisa, that is my follower.” Erzulie’s words were hissed out and sharp, eyes just as cutting as she glared towards the other goddess. “My husband had fetched her for me, Joanna, my darling girl, come sit. We’ll get to your gift after the others.” Jo frowned for a second as she realised that her patron hadn’t dropped her glare from the other goddess’ face yet and yet pointed towards a spot for Jo to sit. Her frown disappeared to realise that she was pointing at the seat that Ogoun had been sitting in before instead of a cushion on the floor, and glancing up, Jo noticed that the tall warrior was stood behind the chair instead. “Quickly, my flower, before the stench of some uncivilised upstart goddess gets caught entirely in my nose.”

“Oh you-” Anaisa sneered back for a second, glaring towards the goddess of the day for a moment, before she turned to stalk off to the side as Jo sat down and Erzulie stood in the same moment to draw the attention of the crowd.

That wasn’t hard for the goddess though. She barely needed to raise her voice to silence all the murmuring of the gods around the space, hands thrown wide and shimmering small golden light sparks around the space where her chains and bracelets and rings caught the sunlight. Erzulie clearly intended to make a point of this all. “Everyone! Thank you all for joining me today on such an important date.” Her voice was sweet and warm, but the underlying current of power that ran through it reminded Jo of her other facet - the fierce, blood thirtsty side that gave the power to the downtrodden to rise up. “I look forward to our next gathering for the next feast day with glee, but before that can happen, so to must todays rituals. My love, the first?”

Jo was unsurprised to see that Damballah was the husband to step forward and beckon to the first of those humans here to give over a ritual or gift to the goddess. What did surprise Jo was to witness how those who were so drawn into this religion and practices gave their thanks to a deity right in front of them. She knew, of course, how the usual practices went and was not surprised to see a goat’s blood spilled at one point or, given the goddess in question, bottles and bottles of perfume poured out into vessels before the worshiper would spill drops of their own blood in as well. She was surprised however to witness how with each prayer or sacrifice that the goddess seated on the throne beside her would glow faintly, and that each devotee was granted the permission to approach the dais and kiss the goddess’ feet before being rewarded with a kiss to the crown of their heads. It was something strange to see the looks of wonder and awe on each of the worshipers faces as they genuflected over and over as they retreated after each of their provisions; that such a small symbol, from a goddess that Jo saw more as a quirky aunt that pinched her cheeks than a deity, meant so much to these people. Jo even watched with eyes wide as the practitioner who introduced her to the idea of drawing from the voodoo gods was there and gave her own thanks. Jo was more surprised to see the look of absolute astonishment and wonder when the other saw her seated there. That look would haunt her for a while.

As the last person bowed and scurried back from the dais, Jo was unsurprised to see a hand held out to her from the god standing behind her. Ogoun helped her to her feet, even though Jo raised a brow at the sheer idea she might have needed the help, and walked her to the same spot that the others had stood to put forth their sacrifices.

Jo waited a second after he’d let her hand go and moved to take the seat that she had vacated to look about uncertainly. It was all well and good to pray, and she would easily, but after witnessing the others it felt a little anticlimactic, especially since she clearly held far less belief than the others.

“Um…” She shifted her weight awkwardly, weighing up the options. “I, uh-” Looking around, Jo could see a few gods shifting their own weight and twisting to mumble to one another. Obviously laughing at the lost little girl, and likewise laughing at Erzulie who stared down at her impassively. There was a moment as a dark brow quirked at her, before Jo glanced around again before letting out a quiet noise of approval as she spotted something she could contribute. Approaching the closest table, Jo pulled a lit candle from the centrepiece before moving back before the altar - candle still aflame and the wax dripping down one side of the candle to the floor. It took barely a moment to pull one of the blood-dipped daggers she had strapped to her legs to start the carvings that she knew off by heart at this point, even as she felt her cheeks flushing brightly at the laughter and murmurs she could hear from those around her at that. As she finished the last of the swirling curls of the heart design for the goddess before her, Jo raised an eyebrow back at the other before setting it down.

There didn’t seem to be anything for a moment before Erzulie gestured towards the flame with her hand and Jo gave a quiet sigh. Kneeling down, she pressed the edge of her blade to her thumb before holding her dripping finger over the flame itself. Pressing on the wound gently with her other hand until a enough drops of blood had fallen to extinguish the flame, Jo let out a gasp as she noticed the light in the room change from the overhead shadows of the sun to something shining and golden before her. Looking up, it wasn’t just her clearly surprised to see the amount of light shining off the goddess. Erzulie sat smiling wide, toothy and pleased, as her skin seemed to almost glow golden like her necklaces and chains, and her hair likewise shone golden. The shine didn’t go down completely like it had after a few seconds from the other sacrifices and rituals, it seemed to sink into the goddess’ skin but not leave as a whole, her whole being softly radiating light under her form as she smiled down towards the blonde.

Rising to her feet, Jo approached at the hand the goddess held out towards her, frowning slightly as she got before her. “I ain’t kissin’ your feet, just so you know.” Jo heard herself speak again, and scrunched her eyes up as she heard what she said, before letting out a sigh of relief at the laugh she got in response.

“Of course not, my flower,” Erzulie replied gently, standing from her seat for a moment like she hadn’t for the other followers before surprising her with a kiss to her forehead unlike anyone else. “You’ve been having a very good time lately, Joanna, I am so happy for you and that I can share in even a little bit of it. Thank you again, my sweet girl.”

Jo felt herself frowning slightly as the goddess pressed another kiss to her forehead before letting go of her, and stepping away, Jo was not surprised to see that those milling around were no longer looking at her at all but drawn entirely like moths to the flame towards the power exuding from the goddess behind her. It was expected. Gods of their kind, those with slowly diminishing follower bases but who still relied upon them would always be drawn towards such sparks of power, and especially the god or goddess that had it at the time.

Moving through the crowd moving forward was easy enough for her - no other mortals seemed to still be present, having left after each of their sacrifices or prayers themselves; and what was a mortal to a god? Shaking her head to herself as she wiped her dagger off on a nearby cloth napkin, Jo was actually surprised to hear a cough from behind her. Turning about, she kept a firm grip on her blade and the cloth as well as she stared cautiously towards the god before her.

“A pretty demonstration there, girl.” The god was surprisingly tall compared to when she’d seen him before, spindly though and his eyes seemed almost ancient as she looked up at him. The god hadn’t moved at all throughout the whole time she’d been there from the seat he’d been sunk into, his old body clearly reflective of his age and looking down at the cane and dog by his side, Jo let out a whoosh of air as she realised which of the loas had approached her. The only one old enough not to care for the frenzied and overly bouncy reaction of the goddess on her throne. Papa Legba stared down at her with eyes milky from cataracts but that seemed to see right through her. “I would leave if I were you, child. They say beware being a favorite, but also being known to be favorite can be even more dangerous. Especially amongst those starving for power.”

Jo frowned slightly, twisting the hand at her side holding the cloth napkin as the god’s dog shuffled forwards to sniff at her hand, before she moved to stroke the animal’s head for a moment. The god’s words felt kind in a way none of the other’s had - the trickster wanted to cause trouble; the god of the dead wanted to get under her skin and his wife was simply bored; the young goddess was bold but didn’t have enough to know what was right or wrong; the fiery competitor had said no kind words towards her that weren’t selfish in it’s own; the three husbands cared only for their competition and their wife; and while Erzulie favored her, that was always self serving and selfish as the goddess was. The old man’s words felt kind for the sake of kindness and compassion. The voice that spoke of more than just his own power nor the demands for power from humans, the communicator between the worlds of gods and the realms of humans, the one who still held a compassion for humans and their fleeting worlds.

As the dog snuffled at her hand and after she scratched under it’s chin, Jo glanced up ready to thank the other to note his warm eyes already nodding to her without her having to speak. There was another moment before the old god turned, picking his way back into the crowd, through which Jo could still see the golden goddess spinning and laughing and soaking in all the attention she craved so much. Drinking in being the centre of the world for a few brief hours in a way that left the blonde sighing in sympathy and pity as she turned to head home to true safety and where the world span from.

----

#jopov #cc #ca

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worldcakecakecake · 4 years ago

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Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth, we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule, go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46I Chapter 47 I Chapter 48 I Chapter 49 I Chapter 50 I Chapter 51 I Chapter 52 I Chapter 53 I Chapter 54 I Chapter 55 I Chapter 56 I Chapter 57 I Chapter 58 I Chapter 59 I Chapter 60I Chapter 61 I Chapter 62 I Chapter 63 I Chapter 64 I Chapter 65 I Chapter 66 I Chapter 67 I Chapter 68 I Chapter 69 I Chapter 70 I Chapter 71 I Chapter 72 I Chapter 73 I Chapter 74 I Chapter 75 I Chapter 76 I Chapter 77 I Chapter 78

Chapter 79

“Now!” Arthur shouted.

Renata quickly ceased the glow in her hand, gone like the flicker of a candle.

“Now somebody go get-” Louis was interrupted by a sudden blast, white and rampaging across the room. They quickly thought it an attack from Destro that had managed straight at their location, but they didn’t hurt…the light became one of warmth, of familiarity. They actually heard Augustino laughing. The light was gone swiftly, everyone began to stand from their fall, just in time to see Feliciano arise, taking a large deep breath, to then cough as he held to the stairs of the pool. The first one to come to his side was Kiku, one hand to help him stand on the dry stone of the room, the other comforting on his back. They all rushed to circle him, but Kiku held a hand to give Feliciano some decency of space, to breathe back in actual living oxygen into his physical body…alive again after a month.

In all honesty…Feliciano looked horrible. He was hunched as he leaned to breathe again, wet, dripping water to the ground, his clothes haggard and his body was only slowly recovering back its color. He still leaned on Kiku, who still offered to give him support.

This was not how they expected him to return. If he was like this…it only meant… “You…couldn’t get it…couldn’t you?” Roderich guessed, deflated, all joining in this accept of what was soon to be a world ending failure. They believed it more so when Feliciano hanged his head lower, refusing to look at them.

They sighed, some began to tear and whimper, given up, kneeling to the floor ready to have everything destroyed before them. But whatever wallowing that wanted to continue, was broken with a sudden red glow, cracking and even drawing upon Feliciano’s fallen hand. Feliciano chuckled, beginning to stand, carefully moving Kiku to the side. All water on him left, dried, looking pristine even if he was bare footed and still wore a simple blouse and pants. His hair and skin shone brighter, with deeper colors and from him came this stronghold of magic, decorating the room in a sense that alighted them, shone them forward to be coated in this new air.

“I got more than just the alignment,” he assured as he opened and showed them his eyes covered completely in magic, bright, powerful, but yet still they held the childish wonder of Feliciano, assuring them it was deeply him. “Much…much more.” He opened his hands to let his arms begin to get decorated in shines of gold and red, letting the room tremble and grow with a garden of magic, of sparks and lights that fascinated all to a stupor. He let it all stop with a simple sway of his hands lowering, his eyes closing to then alight again with his usual amber. Before all could word and celebrate, smiling and shinning deeply with hope, another crash came into the room from a messenger, tired, huffing and ready to fall to the ground.

“Destro is in the midst of the city! He’s approaching the castle and we are not enough to hold him! You must come and help us!”

“Perfect! We have Feliciano with us and he holds the alignment,” Yao announced, as all brandished their weapons and magic again. Only but Feliciano startled and questioned as his gaze was frantic.

“We’ll help him however necessary. We will attack this instant and make sure Destro is dead by the-"

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Feliciano interrupted his father, standing before all as a blockade.

“Feliciano, we have to act now!” Lovino shouted.

“I know, I know! Just please…don’t kill him…”

They all widened and stood perplexed, for not just the words but the feel in his tone.

“What do you mean not kill him? He has helped destroy a large part of Clubs and is the culprit for having the entire southern Hearts kingdom obliterated. If he comes any closer he’ll have us all killed instead!” Aldrich shouted.

Even if all the energy currently rested inside him, Feliciano hurt, holding back tears as he shook and tried to control them to stay inside. “Let me deal with this! You can help me all you want when we have to defeat Khaos…but leave Destro to me.” With the words he managed his calm and straightening, a stronghold that actually got the rest to fall and stand back, lessening the hold of their weapons and even the energy of their magic.

Feliciano sighed, calm…then potence as he turned to the messenger still trying to calm his breaths. “Tell everyone to fall back…and to come straight to the castle. One brigade is commanded to keep a Titanium shine spell so Destro can attack until everyone is safely secured inside. Once done, I myself will place a protective shield to keep the castle safe. I assure you all no harm will come.”

“And then you’re going to face Destro alone?” Lili was dreading.

Another shook that caused pieces to fall in the room, a roar that made them all shutter.

“Yes. I will.” Decreed strongly in his voice, one everyone knew they could not go against, having to nod and accept, if even shaking with worry. “I will only put up the shield once everyone is in…and you have to promise you will stay inside.” He turned with strength in his foots, one that made all bow to in reverence and accept. “Only then will I head out and face him.”

“Your majesty…what are you doing now?” Elizabeta dared herself to ask.

“I will watch and make sure that my commands are fulfilled…and I have to look for my harp.” And with a surprising calm he took to the halls to head to its storage.

The call was done quickly. Feliciano saw from his heights as messengers spread and began to lead way back to the castle. Some rushed alone, others needed assistance because of their wounds, depending on the help of other soldiers to make way, but they made haste. Whoever was left in the city made approach to the castle, all behind a line of wizards that kept the Titanium Shine as the Queen had told. The spell was but a hallucination, a tall pillar of strong grey magic that feigned the energy of a living person, a perfect distraction for Destro, who attacked it as viciously as he had done everything, the ricochets deadly to the city, tearing and coating in smoke of destruction. Entire streets were there no longer, others blackened, Destro’s mere presence calling poison to reign even in the skies, tempting to rain with burn.

This was the first time Feliciano’s eyes fell on Destro, the expanse of darkness, raging and swinging with its own arms and face, with runes of red and white, shaped with strengths that were actually wider than Khaos. He had yet to see Khaos in his alignment, but already Destro proved much more evil than the depictions he had seen long ago in the cave of artifacts.

He gulped, he gripped harder the column of the harp he had now…trying to contain his fear…to see…

The ground shook, awaking Feliciano from his thoughts, to realizing that the wizards and the last of the soldiers were entering the front gardens of the castle. It was his time to leave…to face…to begin and end this all. He actually…believed. He had confidence, one that made him stand prideful, with a deep breath that was only for the beginning of a melody.

“I’ll journey and see beyond the lines of our kingdom,

Never a fear to be lost, never a fear to fall,

In pleasure, I will take the mysteries of what I could meet,

If you accept to be mine, my Queen.”

He sung it underneath his breath, tranquil and peaceful despite this disarray.

In the eternal reserve, there was indeed much more than just the alignment, more than just power and magic. There was information, knowledge and instructions about everything, even notes of power left behind. One of those messages was the ability to actually change the harp. No…he would not dare change the design, structure and color Augusta had placed, for it was sufficiently beautiful. All he needed was to change its size, something small he could carry in his palm, to easily begin his descend down the castle, like a singular entity that existed out of everything, merely trying to make a passing.

“No heat, no cold, will stop me of my search,

No sun, no rain to go against my strength,

Just promise me your hand,

And love me in our eternity.”

This music he tried to make his own sound, away from the shouts, the hurry of everyone trying to make their place in the castle for the shield.

“My sun, my moon, my land, my love,

I know it’s a journey you will overcome,

But I don’t need you to go so far,

I want you here to kiss me.”

He entered the place of action, of all running and creating a panic that Feliciano felt suspended in as he made his way across. He paid no mind to them, he left them to their disorder. No one really came into silence until they noticed him…easy, like he was just strolling through the castle trying to find a pleasant breeze.

“Would you want all the gold I will find for you?

Would you like the songs I will bring from afar for you?

Would you accept me as your shield?

And would you want me always by your side?”

He sang on, making that image more the one that all thought Feliciano was really going through. They all stood as they witnessed him, letting a rare peace fall on these halls.

“What is he doing?” One soldier asked.

“Isn’t he supposed to be facing Destro?”

“They said he was going to do it alone!”

“But he’s just singing!”

The whispers continued.

“I don’t want any of the riches you will bring,

I don’t care for any of the songs,

I only want you to hold,

I only want your arms around me.”

The voices would always fall, beginning to just accept…and trust whatever it was that the Heartian Queen will do.

It was his own silent parade down the rest of the halls, down every stair he needed to take, reaching ground, the main door of the castle now appearing before him. The commotion was the strongest here, filled, with people in shouted pain and tears, healers coming to act quick, screams and hurry to head in from the royals at the front.

“Bring me your love, your kisses, your loyalty,

Your passion, your hope, your defeat,

Your promise, your weakness, your strength,

I will keep it all in my heart.”

“The casters are almost here!” Kandake shouted, shock panic in her expression.

“And where in the hell is Feliciano?” Vash shouted, just as he was met with a surprising silence, noticing how all gazed back to the very figure he questioned, making his way singularly down the hall.

“Let the doors open wider…let the last of them come in,” Lili reminded, strong and pushing so all could fulfill despite this rare glow Feliciano shone in, distracting and even beautiful.

“I’ll journey and see beyond the lines of our kingdom,

Never a fear to be lost, never a fear to fall,

In pleasure, I will take the mysteries of what I could meet,

If you accept to be mine, my King.”

Nobody dared question the song…they just gave the necessary space for Feliciano to take, in that moment handing everything to him. He now had their lives and future, hanging in his hands and power.

The last of the soldiers made entrance to the castle, the casters were now right before them, still holding to the spell, turning to the royals awaiting the next command.

“Stop the enchantment. Head inside. I’ll deal with him.”

They nodded, albeit fearful still as they turned their hands to release the hold. They rushed inside, leaving the pillar as it was, able to withstand a couple of more whiplashes from the remaining energy.

There was still some time.

While all shook at the image of Destro so near the castle, Feliciano stood stable, unaffected and with a calm some were envious the Queen could keep. The royals kept a guard around him, watching and waiting for any action. Only Pookie broke this as he took landing on Feliciano’s shoulder as usual, cuddling and comforting no matter the turmoil. It was almost like the monster before them wasn’t there at all.

“If you are waiting for me to change my mind, I am not.”

“To be honest, do whatever you want…just get rid of that thing,” Arthur admitted, his fear shown in the slight shake in his tone, as well as the fierceness he gave that made this a command.

Vincenzo glared, but it eased as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, “we’ll be here, ready to serve you for anything. Defeat this menace…but stay safe.”

Feliciano smiled, the enchanting one that spread and made them all shine on this eve of darkness. “As I’ve said before…stay in the castle. Leave everything to me.” And with that he took a step out of the threshold, beginning his way, the others not daring to close the door, for it was their watch to the spectacle they knew would mark them all forever. Many others took watch from any of the windows, frozen and expecting.

In that chest of power, not only had Feliciano found information, but he found the forgotten lyrics to a song Augusta had long ago created, a hymn to the misery of losing her beloved.

“My sun, my moon, my land, my love…” he had begun to sing again. It was louder this time, echoing to the point that all in the castle could hear it…they even wondered if it spread to the whole city, since Destro suddenly stopped, a widened expression in his eyes that was eerily human.

“The sky has all fallen…” he continued, but he didn’t go on without a sudden deep breath, alighting in beautiful marks, ruby red. Once all that energy he needed was gathered, as he released his breath, large red lights began to grow from different corners of the city. He didn’t have to twirl his hand or utter some incantation…he walked on down the main courtyard, a simple thought in charge of letting these lights glow the streets they were located on, rushing forward until they reached the center of the castle. From the base it created at its edges, a net like structure began to grow, beginning a covering sphere of the castle, slow as Feliciano was still kept at its circulated area.

“The kingdom weeps their king’s farewell…” he managed to sing on as he found himself ever reaching the official gates, only a matter of steps now.

“And a queen breaks at her lover’s parting again…”

To his surprise…Destro remained awfully still…as if he was enjoying from the song…perhaps trying to find its location…or trying to find his target.

“But in your defend, all will join and fight for our future…”

The shield continued its upward current, to the amazement of all who stayed inside the castle, distracted in its form enough that they didn’t see as Feliciano finally placed a foot outside of the perimeters. With his exit, the shield met at the top and finished. The castle was now well protected…nothing would be capable of destroying it…and even at the worst it will still stand. Feliciano could now keep his focus on only Destro.

“…so the heavens will bless in your rest our perfect peace,” he finished the song, elongating an indeed rare silence in the city. To the surprise of those back in the castle, Destro didn’t lunge forward and Feliciano didn’t attack…they were easy in this stillness. They both continue to breathe out, nervous, like two strangers worried over their first meeting.

Somehow…even for this, Feliciano had a song, new and his…with thoughts for Ludwig and a willingness to do anything…absolutely anything for him.

“My sun, my moon, my land, my love…” he then began a slow reach, a walk forward, brave and with a shining happiness from his expression to his steps, eager, each new approach lighting the more, extinguishing more the fear.

“My king who shines above all,” he smiled, such joy that already teared at his eyes.

Destro continued this stillness, awed and wondered, frozen yet in his spot.

“Darkened, lost and taken…” and Feliciano finally took that weakness to use, beginning a spell that lighted up the entire city, glowing in gold as he used it for an intense heat, one that surely burnt and brought Destro back to screeching and sending swings, destroying streets and buildings…and yet Feliciano stood in their fault, smiling and unaware.

“I know your heart is stronger.”

Now the song was an add to this poison. Destro wanted rid of it, so he trampled forward meaning to fulfill his kill as intended.

Raging, monstrous, Feliciano still looking so diminutive in his shadow, and yet the Queen continued to smile and only move forward, in a want to meet him.

Many in the castle had to shield their eyes, some began to weep and others shook as if Destro’s was above them ready for taking. It could very well happen if he just swallowed Feliciano…which seemed would be very likely the case.

“Your light is brighter…” And Feliciano dared halt, much to the anguish of the castle, slowly, painfully slow, raising a hand…not the one that had the harp. From there, he gathered light…warming and loving…comfortable and even…happy. Despite how diminutive it was, right in the middle of this darkening blaze, looking like it could easily drown between all…Destro stood just as Feliciano, both not daring any harm to the other.

“You are ruler, you are king…” and they saw then that the song was dedication…dedication to Destro. The gaze their eyes shared was of childhood friends…turned to lovers…to then the King and Queen of Hearts. Destro let himself sit, the viciousness of his killing hands, turning gentle, forming fingers…familiar fingers that reached only for a simple touch. There was no fire, no magic, when Feliciano reached for its touch, he didn’t hurt, in fact, his smile was only larger, letting his hand caress the large hand of darkness like any regular skin. He embraced it, he even cradled it, letting himself lay on it, already feeling him entirely. He gazed up, with hint of tears from the peak of this happiness, to those large eyes that now more than ever reflected his beloved.

“I know it’s you…Ludwig…” he couldn’t keep the last words in the tune of the song, for it was more important that he knew he was there, more important that they had this reunion, a reminder that at the worst…they would triumph.

Destro…Ludwig…accepted this welcome, letting himself lean in blissful rest and comfort, careful as he lay right over the tiny figure of his husband. How he could, Feliciano raised his arms and embraced him, even as his face was formed this monstrous, loyal in giving him his ever devoting love, caressing and mending and how he wished he could kiss him. It was difficult, but…he tried, his lips reaching to any corner of a mouth he could reach, and with it, he began the full intent of his spell, one that went on its own course as he instead focus on feeling the powerful emotion of having his husband's lips again.

“Is he…is he kissing that thing?” Vash couldn’t help but mention. The rest were too dumbfounded to response, only watching as the city began to glow more in the scene of this kiss.

Despite how it was all gold, it seemed like color was brought back to the city, enveloping everything, slowly tearing apart every inch of darkness from this evil vessel. No more storms, no more poison, instead there was healing, coating everything in flowers, in new jewels to the buildings, in a brightening that made the damaged parts of the city new again. Destro turned smaller, smaller, every part of him slashed to nothing, disintegrating instead in shine and stars that made this grey day shinning with the colors of a beautiful morning. Piece by piece this vicious monster began to be chipped away until only this body remained…a human body. The golden light it was developed in was too much to really notice any features, but there was no hesitation in the way Feliciano desperately held to it, letting it rest on him, coming to kneel down until it could lay on his lap comfortably.

Knowing it was safe, the shield on the castle fell, in a blink, and in that instant the castle doors slammed open with the insistence of the royals. Feliciano didn’t care for this commotion, he simply let his hands trail on the figure’s hair, their blond strands coming back, their silk and softness, the hardened head, the strong jaw, nose and cheeks. His skin turned its rightful pale, his body as perfectly as Feliciano always considered it, left with only tattered remains of surely the last armor he had fought with. The brightness began to dwindle, leaving a wondrous heat in the city that made them swear a melody continued to sing. With the last twinkling of gold gone, there was a sudden grasp of air, of steady breathing…along with a heartbeat.

Ludwig remained in this rest, letting his body slowly get used to skin, to breathing in and out his control, testing with sudden grips and shakes that indeed…he was his own again. He baptized that aware with a fluttering of his eyes, that beautiful blue that the very sky seemed to have granted him. He saw a shining day, he felt the warmth of great summers and then he saw…his own angel, his sun, his love and queen and already he smiled. It caused a slight pang…but it didn’t matter…it was just the right reminder he was back…this was real…Feliciano was there.

“Ludwig?” Feliciano still questioned it, still wondering if this was the plethora of all dreams and he was still stuck in one of the realms.

Ludwig groaned and still found it hard to move for now…but it would pass, he would heal…and he will live. This time he could show a grin that reflected the light of this new sun on him, making it more real for Feliciano, who began to tighten the hold he kept on his body, whose eyes began to water, but even so his own grin wanted to keep expanding.

“Feliciano…” he managed to speak, rusted and sore, “…do you…remember that spell I used to do as a kid after my power activation…the one I had to do-” “-two for each afternoon hour,” they repeated together in a perfect sync that made them chuckle.

“And do you remember…how it was you that always convinced me to do it when I complained about it…and you always…tried to heal or calm whenever I got burnt afterwards…”

“Yes…yes, yes I remember that dearly.” Tears fell, but even with this shake, Feliciano went on smiling.

“I feel like…something just like that happened now…I couldn’t…control my power…I couldn’t…I couldn’t….” Ludwig found it hard to speak when he was shaking with the same tears that took him, the emotion piling. “-do anything…I left myself turn into a monster and destroy everything I hold dear, but you …you brought me back…you stopped this…you saved me…”

“Oh, but Ludwig, despite all this darkness, you managed to see me between and let the spell heal…you let yourself be freed. It wasn’t me alone. Oh, how I missed you and how I love you, I love you dearly and I just…I just had to save you. These last few weeks…without you were awful. I was so lost…everything was darker and hopeless…I was so ready to give up and join you wherever you were but…there’s a world looking up to us, there are tons of other millions we have to save and…” he raised his arms to the jewels were their children lay. Ludwig managed slight reaches to be able to caress them, smiling, the joy letting him raise from his lay a slight more. “…we have our own kids to show the very world we live in.” The jewels had gotten brighter, new red vines began to grow around Feliciano’s wrists and Ludwig was sure to touch every line, proving to his children that he was there…that he will be there. Their gazes met and they knew for sure all was real, their touch was theirs, their breath running and every fiber of magic in them was glowing now for their return. It exploded as they reached forward for their kiss, deepening and passionate, letting themselves in that fuel, letting whatever tears come down and fall for once in comfort and trust in the new flourished land below them. They settled between on one another in whimpers, in a hold all around them that was tight and placed, nothing, nothing…not even the approach of all, shouting, crying and celebrating was enough to depart them.

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There’s so much that went wrong while writing this. To me, this chapter should have meant more, but in the end…I don’t know…it doesn’t feel like I wanted it to. I tried what I could of fixing it but after noticing I haven’t gotten any comments or words for this story in months…yes including the last amount of chapters…I should just…no care about this as most people do. So many times the last few weeks I’ve thought about stopping…but, NEWS, there’s only about three chapters left to finish the story, and after five years with this…I think I should give it the chance to at least let it be done. I told myself many times, I created this adventure for myself and anyone else who reads is just welcomed to come along on the ride. I really don’t like coming here all guilt trippy like this, but just…been through a lot the last few weeks, thinking a lot about usage of time…and sometimes I wondered why continue with a story that I only care about, wasting time? But then, exactly, I care about it, I adore it, I don’t need the lack of interest of strangers. It is great, I love it, and it is taking swell time. For those who have stuck and the very few who are the pushes that keep me going with this hideous mammoth. Thank you, and thus, I bring you a chapter in what I could of messy holiday shenanigans.

As I said, savor it…only three more to go.

Also, was this part really like the one in Moana? Yes, I know. I had this idea long before the movie came out, but sadly I was slower. The movie did give me the idea to add a song though~

#fatkoh #f&tkoh #gerita #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

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brooklynmuseum · 5 years ago

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Join us for a virtual tour of Jacques-Louis David Meets Kehinde Wiley! Created by Lisa Small, Senior Curator, European Art, Eugenie Tsai, Senior Curator, Contemporary Art , and Joseph Shaikewitz, Curatorial Assistant, Arts of the Americas and Europe.

The exhibition places two iconic paintings in dialogue: Kehinde Wiley’s Napoleon Leading the Army over the Alps (2005) and its early nineteenth-century source image, Jacques-Louis David’s Bonaparte Crossing the Alps (1800–1) from the Château de Malmaison.

Displayed together for the first time, these two heroic images provide an opportunity to explore how constructions of power, representation, race, masculinity, and agency are enacted within the realm of portraiture.

The introductory gallery features Wiley's Rumors of War—a smaller version of the monument he unveiled in Times Square last fall—which shows his continued interest in equestrian imagery (or sitters on horseback).

Here, he adapted a contested statue depicting the Confederate General J. E. B. Stuart installed on Monument Avenue in Richmond, Virginia, and transformed the sitter into a valiant young Black man whose likeness is a composite of several young men.

In Wiley’s words, this work functions “to expose the beautiful and terrible potentiality of art to sculpt the language of domination.”

This case displays several 18th and 19th-century objects from the Brooklyn Museum collection that show how Napoleon and his achievements were celebrated in visual culture during and after his rule.

Napoleon entered the military at 16, became a full general in the French Revolutionary Army at age 24, and in 1804, he crowned himself Emperor of the French.

This medal struck in 1806 aligns his profile with the early 9th-century Roman emperor Charlemagne. A savvy political propagandist, Napoleon liked to connect his reputation and image with ancient imperial glory.

David made the same connection in his painting, inscribing “KAROLVS MAGNVS” (Latin for Charlemagne) in the rocky foreground.

The equestrian format of Antoine-Louis Barye’s bronze sculpture of Napoleon echoes the same ancient visual tradition for portraying rulers David used in his painted portrait, and that Wiley continues in his painting and sculpture.

Barye made this sculpture in the 1860s, long after the end of Napoleon’s reign in 1815, during the rule of his nephew, Napoleon III, who sought to revive and connect to his uncle’s imperial image and legacy.

Visual propaganda goes both ways! This small section features several early 19th-century satirical prints that subverted Napoleon’s heroic persona by belittling his character and portraying him as a villainous despot.

The British, who were constantly at war with France during this period, were especially good at creating scathing, satirical images of Napoleon, whom they gave the unflattering nickname “Boney.”

In this 1806 etching, James Gillray highlights Napoleon’s penchant for installing loyal rulers across his growing empire by showing him pulling his “imperial gingerbread” from the “new French oven” while behind him his Foreign Minister Talleyrand kneads the dough to make more. If you look to the right, you’ll see a favorite detail: a group of “Little Dough Viceroys” waiting to be baked.

The main gallery focuses on the David and Wiley paintings. Made two centuries apart, they highlight the connection of image-making to power, serving as a reminder, in this age of social media and celebrity, of the relationship between visual culture, dominance, and history.

The pairing offers a timely examination of the European canon, while also showing how historical artworks can speak to issues of race and power in the present moment.

David reimagines Napoleon crossing the Alps in 1800, on his way to recapture Italian territory lost in war with Austria. With him was an army of 4,000 soldiers who pulled heavy artillery up 6,500 feet.

Reality check: Napoleon didn’t actually lead the charge across the Alps wearing a fine uniform and riding a white horse, but in a grey overcoat and riding a donkey.

This idealized image was meant to serve as an emblem of power, victory, and authority. It is pure propaganda, and has become a famous symbol of military glorification and the cult of personality.

King Charles IV of Spain commissioned David’s painting, but Napoleon himself liked it so much that he asked the artist to create a replica of it for him. We have on view the first version, which went to Spain.

Fun fact: In 1808 Napoleon made his brother Joseph the King of Spain, and he took ownership of David’s painting. When Napoleon lost power in 1815, Joseph went into exile in the US and took the painting with him to New Jersey, where it remained for at least 15 years!

Wiley engages with the grand tradition of European portraiture and its ability to construct images that convey the power of the sitter. His work shows his practice of drawing from older paintings, preserving the pose and composition. Here he swaps the heroic figure of Napoleon for a Black man, an everyday civilian, to highlight the fact that he and other brown and Black people have been written out of this history.

Part of his 2005 series “Rumors of War,” the painting is emblematic of Wiley’s complicated engagement with European history and portrait painting, showing, as he has said, that he’s “drawn toward that flame and wanting to blow it out at once.”

Wiley replaces the figure of Napoleon with a contemporary Black citizen. Wiley chose him using his technique of street casting, in which the artist invites passersby into his studio to pose for paintings.

The sitter’s last name “Williams” joins the names of other military leaders in David’s original composition.

Wearing fatigues and Timberland boots, the sitter literally and figuratively redresses history. Although his camo attire updates the Napoleonic uniform, his style has more to do with what the artist has called “Brooklyn bravado” more so than an overt reference to the military.

Exhibition designer Lance Singletary created an opulent, theatrical space for the two paintings, including a central curtain swag that evokes the Napoleonic era. The golden crest, created by our talented graphic designer Paige Hanserd, combines David and Wiley’s initials enclosed by laurel branches.

The design is a nod to the laurel-wreath crown that Napoleon wore at his coronation and the popularity of the laurel motif in French Empire design.

This book in the last gallery shows Napoleon and his first wife, Joséphine Bonaparte, on the grounds of Malmaison, the couple’s residence from 1800–02. During this period, Napoleon reinstated slavery in France’s Caribbean colonies—a practice that had been abolished by the French Revolution in 1794.

Some historians believe that Napoleon’s decision was influenced by Joséphine, who was born and raised in Martinique to a family that made its wealth through a sugar plantation and the labor of enslaved peoples.

The final gallery also includes this sculpture by Wiley in the Brooklyn Museum’s collection. The work draws on an eighteenth-century bust by the French neoclassical sculptor Jean-Antoine Houdon.

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The exhibition closes with a video of Wiley’s visit to Malmaison last year to see David’s painting in person for the first time. He comments on the ways in which history masks the construction of power, the labor of brown and Black bodies, and the complex racial overtones of imperialism.

Thank you for joining us on our virtual tour of Jacques-Louis David Meets Kehinde Wiley. Tune in next Sunday for another virtual tour of our galleries.

Installation view, Jacques-Louis David Meets Kehinde Wiley, Brooklyn Museum (Photo: Jonathan Dorado)

#virtual tours #davidwiley #kehinde wiley #virtual tour #exhibitions #art #history #brooklyn #brooklyn museum #art museums #jacques-louis david #museumfromhome #art history #virtualtour

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homosociallyyours · 4 years ago

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Nosy meme: 2, 6, 12, 13, 19, 20, 22, 29, 33, 47, 50. 💜

OMG thank you Brynn!! So many questions to answer :) I’m putting it under a cut bc I know it’s gonna get long...AND YES IT DID.

2) What are you obsessed with right now? Below Deck, this ridiculous Bravo show that follows a charter yacht through an 8 week season of trips. It’s dramatic and full of wealthy people like most Bravo shows, BUT it’s also following the people who staff the boat, not the guests, so it’s more relatable than Real Housewives. I just wrote a one shot ficlet about 2 of the women on one of the more recent seasons yesterday. Ridiculous.

6) Describe your dream home. I feel like I always have a slightly different answer for this. Right now: my ideal home would be pretty small, maybe 700-800 sq ft, with a single bedroom, painted a vibrant pink and accented with green and white (think climbing vines with tiny, bright white blooms) and a small alcove done in a pale blue that housed a murphy bed for guests. The kitchen would be ultra organized to optimize space (I would NOT be the one to do this) and would be equipped with an air fryer, slow cooker, instant pot, and microwave in addition to standard brand new appliances. There’s a fold down table that can seat up to 4 in the kitchen, though it’s usually just set up for me. The bathroom has a shower done with celadon green tile with a bench seat built in and glass doors. The living room is small and simple, but there’s a big comfortable grey couch and a tv. The whole house has hardwood floors, and the windows each have a bit of stained glass in them up top so the light is sometimes colored as it filters in. There’s a covered carport with a doggie bath area and a chest freezer, and in the fenced back yard there’s a hot tub and comfortable lounging furniture among all the greenery. The house doesn’t have a lawn tho, fuck that. You can’t hear sounds from the street-- it’s a quiet house. I live alone unless i want a visitor. It sounds so nice.

12) What’s one of your fantasies? Having my dream home as above, lol. But really my most typical fantasy is being able to afford a weekend away at a fancy airbnb by the ocean that allows dogs. It turns out the owner is fat butch dyke who loves dogs and we end up playing scrabble together sitting at a picnic table outside. She offers to cook me dinner; I put together a cheese plate while she grills steaks and broccoli, and we basically fall in love, turning my silly 2 day vacation into a lifetime of slow, sweet, happy love. ://////////

13) Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced? I would, maybe? But also idk bc they’re extremely sensitive already and I don’t want them to lose sensation BUT i also don’t want them to be more sensitive bc that could cause legit problems.

19) If you could change your name, would you? What would you change it to? Nah, I like my name. Though if I were going to change it I think I would just go by a variation of my first name-- Dottie.

20) What is something you’re obsessed with? Other than Below Deck? Yorkshire Gold tea. I bought it bc Louis Tomlinson drinks it and my whole life changed for the better. It’s SO FUCKING GOOD, ok? It rarely tastes bitter, even when you accidentally oversteep it, and the flavor and aroma are surprisingly complex for a simple black tea. I have been into teas since I was a teenager, and while I could never entirely give up some of my single origin black teas, Yorkshire Gold is my current (forever?) go to for a daily cuppa.

22) Tag someone you think is hot. HELP I don’t experience attraction this way anymore :p Literally idk who to tag?? WAIT @mxaether!!! Kams is super hot in all the ways, I adore them so much.

29) What’s the most overrated movie? In general anything directed or written by a white man who’s made lots of movies. I really try not to watch slogs like that anymore, but the last movie I watched that genuinely made me want to yell was The Dark Knight. Do I remember the plot? NO bc my ass was BORED BORED BORED and when I kinda thought it was about to be over NOPE! there was another hour of the movie left. Fuck that garbage. I haven’t seen it but I’m pretty sure I’d feel the same about that Snyder cut of Justice League. I read a long synopsis/breakdown of the movie (from someone who loved it!!!) and spent the whole time frowning with disgust bc it sounded like The Worst Thing I Could Ever Sit Through.

33) If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like? For the most part, not that different? I would have an endless supply of incredibly soft, comfy leggings with bright, eye-catching colors and patterns along with stretchy, form fitting dresses that were equally loud. Soft, loafer style slippers in a variety of colors. All my under things would be high end and custom made (also colorful! no white underpants! ever!) I would also have access to ultra fancy party clothes: stretchy, body con jumpsuits with plenty of sparkle (picture: a coppery jumpsuit that fits tight through the hips and ends with a high waist, the top slit in a deep V but draping softly with a bit of volume. The back has a light, diaphanous, cape of sorts), twirly dresses, etc. Everything is INCREDIBLY comfortable and easy to move in, but glam and fun and whimsically sexy?

47) If you could marry any celebrity, who would you pick? None celebrity, left beef. :P Truthfully tho it’s Alex Guarnaschelli...she cooks for me, I serve her in any and every way she wants or needs. Would also say Lizzo but I worry that her partying days are still here and I know I wouldn’t be able to keep up.

50) What’s your favorite kind of weather? Sunny but breezy, almost cool in the shade, for midday. In the evening the temperature drops enough that you’re grateful for a sweater but not so much that you’re ever actually chilled, and around 2am there’s a light but steady rain for an hour or two that’s barely noticeable by noon the next day.

If anyone read all of these and for some reason wants to send me more, the asks are here

#about me #tmi #below deck #clothes #fatshion #movies #food mention #all my banal fantasies in one place lol #nosy asks #azcrowleyfell #answers

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anythingandeverything1d · 5 years ago

Text

You or Him.

Your heart was pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears. You quietly opened the front door, sliding inside and immediately against the wall. You held a small nerf gun with only one bullet in your hand and you listened carefully for Harry’s voice. He should be just about done with his conference call. From what you could tell, his voice was coming from the living room- kitchen area. You crawled the last bit of hallway, getting down on your knees and peaking around the corner. Harry stood in the kitchen, his back was to you and phone to his ear. He was leaning against the counter nodding his head and agreeing with whoever was on the other line. You crawled to the island and waited for him to hang up the phone. 1:30pm, just like clockwork. Harry sighed after hanging up, running his hands through his hair. He was shirtless, dressed in his thin grey athletic shorts. You held the gun to your chest and tried not to laugh at how perfectly your plan was working out. Harry walked past the island and you jumped up and shot. The foam bullet hit him in the middle of his back. “Gotcha!” you yelled with a huge smirk on your face.

Harry turned and shook his head laughing. He ran at you and wrapped you tightly in his arms, placing a warm and gentle kiss on the top of your head. He had always been very forward with his touchiness and it was something you looked forward to and loved. When the two of you were together he was almost always touching you, holding your hand, or finding some way to be extra close to you. You hugged him back, breathing in his familiar cologne, your nose pressed firmly against his chest and butterflies in your stomach. “I haven't seen you in ages and the first thing you think of doing is shooting me with a nerf gun.” he laughed and took a step back. “I fucking love you (y/n).”

You laughed along with him, the butterflies flying up at his words. “I love you to H.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and walked you into the living room. It felt good to be back, to be around Harry. The two of you had been friends for almost 6 years. You met through your mutual friend, his now ex bandmate, Louis, all those years ago. You had been there through everything with the two of them, Zayn leaving, their first concert without him, and their last concert all together as a band. In fact, you had been sitting front row of that one and afterwards you had hugged the two crying boys until everything had seemed okay. You had stayed more in touch with Harry over the years since Louis had been busy with his family, El, and Freddie, but of course you had checked in on Louis as well from time to time. You had celebrated and supported Harry’s first album, both the completion and release, along with his first solo interviews and his big acting break in Dunkirk. All of the late night phone calls about forgetting what to do and being nervous he wasn't good enough, you had been there for each and every one, waking up at 3:30 am to take the call even when you had classes at 8am the following morning. You had also supported him when he left for his big solo tour, even though it had killed a part of you to watch him leave. He had been away for the last year or so now and while you had been front row at a couple of his shows, you hadn't seen him in almost 6 months. Now that he was home, you wanted nothing more than to be around him every minute of every day, starting right now. “So do tell me, how was traveling the world?”

“Well it was amazing, but it lacked a little something.”

“Oh yeah what's that?”

“Something smallish...cute...sassy...”

“Louis Tomlinson,” you joked.

Harry laughed and shook his head, rolling his eyes at you. His fingers trailed along yours distractedly before slipping between yours and squeezing your hand gently. “You.”

You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder. “I wish I could’ve been there for more. I really missed you Harry.” You snuggled against his chest and he tightened his grip around you. “I am really really proud of you though. Like seriously, so proud Haz” your heart swelled just thinking about it. You really were so proud of him and everything he had worked so hard to accomplish.

“I missed you too and I know.” He smiled and looked down at you. “Tell me about your life, what’s new with you?” His free hand pulled your legs across his so that you were basically sitting in his lap. You looked into his green eyes and bit your lip as he waited for your life update.

You sighed and looked away. This was the part you had been dreading. Last month you had started dating this new guy. He was okay, you weren't exactly sure how your emotions leveled out with him or even if you wanted to be with him at all, but you had still been dreading this day from the time he had asked you out. Harry never took well to you having a boyfriend. In fact he had stopped talking to you for almost a month last time you started dating someone simply because he thought you could do better. It wasn't just his fault though, you didnt take well to him dating someone either. You and Harry had a special relationship. The two of you had been best friends for so long, you never really wanted to cross the line and risk the incredible thing you already had. Plus before when you had both considered dating, you had Louis to worry about. Now it just seemed like the time had gone. The two of you had agreed to just be friends and you had shoved any feelings for Harry down so deep they rarely showed. Of course, sometimes they did. Sometimes you saw headlines of Harry with another girl and it made you physically ill from the fact that you weren't the one with him. Sometimes you got mad that he had chosen a stuck up model to date. And sometimes you just got upset that his attention wasn't on you. It was a weird situation to be in. Harry nudged you, breaking your train of thoughts. “Well, work is boring as ever.” you smiled and rolled your eyes. “My boss still sucks and treats me like I am just some clueless unimportant woman but thats nothing new really.” Harry frowned. The thought of a man not treating you well always upset him, especially the thought of your boss treating you unfairly. “I uh-I also starteddatingsomeone..” you mumbled quickly.

Harry’s body froze. His arms literally stiffened and you anxiously looked into his eyes, waiting for the outburst he typically had. “Oh.” he grumbled. “Thats nice.”

“Mhm.” you waited for more but Harry just sat there. “I think you might like this one..” you lied.

Harry just nodded. “Maybe.” You trailed your finger up and down his arm, waiting for him to continue on. He eventually lightened up and sighed. “So how’d you meet him?”

“I met him through a friend actually. A friend from school.”

“Oh. Mutual friends always make great relationships...”

“Harry please don't act weird.” you groaned, touching your nose to his cheek.

“I’m not.” he defensively said.

“You are. You always act like this.”

“How do you want me to act (y/n)?” he practically growled. Tears formed in your eyes and you moved as far back as you could without falling off his lap. Harry saw your expression and stopped, his head dropped and he sighed. “I’m sorry. If you’re happy, I’m happy.” he said faking a smile. “How long-uh how long have the two of you been dating?”

“Not too long, maybe a month now?” you answered. Harry just nodded. “I want you to meet him.”

“Oh.”

“Harry please. He's my boyfriend and you're- you're, well you're my best friend.” you said best friend with a certain tone and Harry didn’t seem to like it. “I just want the two of you to like each other. Your opinion matters to me.” It wasn't a lie. You valued Harry’s opinion more than anything. He told you how it was all of the time and that wasn't an exclusion with boys. Most of the time Harry was right about them even though you had always hoped deep down he said what he did because he had buried the same feelings you had.

“Fine.” he grumbled. “But only because I want to make sure the guy is right for you.”

You smiled and kissed his cheek as a thank you. It earned a small smile from Harry, but not his typical smile that made your knees shake. “Dinner tonight? We could make it the official start to Friday movie nights.”

“So now we are including him in Friday movie night?” Harry pushed you off his lap to stand up and pace in front of the couch.

“No. No Harry.” You grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down to you. “Friday movies are OUR thing. I just want you to meet him at dinner and then when he leaves it can be you and I. Just like normal.”

Harry relaxed a little bit after hearing that and you let the breath you didn't realize you had been holding out in relief. “Fine.”

You stood up, hugged him tightly and smiled. “Dinner at 6:00. Don’t even think about being late Harry.”

“When am I ever late to something that involves you?” he asked with a grin.

“I just wanted to make myself clear.” you laughed while shaking your head and walking to the door. You blew him a kiss and grinned. “See you tonight.”

He caught the kiss and placed it on his heart. “7:00 right?” he teased with a deep laugh. You gave him a look and he laughed harder. “I’m kidding. I’ll see you later.”

You got home and anxiously prepped dinner. You made one of Harry’s favorites, spaghetti and meat balls with garlic bread. It was something easy and Harry always said that he loved the dinner because of the face you had once paired it with lady and the tramp. That was what had started your tradition for Friday monthly movie nights. You set the table when the doorbell went off. You walked over and opened it. Your boyfriend had a rose in his hand and a smile on his face. “Hey you.” He handed you the rose and walked in. “It smells amazing in here. I’m really excited for dinner.”

“I am too. I’m excited for you to meet Harry.”

“Where is he?”

You looked at the clock and rolled your eyes. It was 6:05, and just like Harry had promised he wouldn't do, he was late. Normally Harry arrived promptly an hour early to movie night, just because he was so excited to spend time with you. You heart ached a little knowing he wasn't excited like normal but you also knew that your boyfriend intruding in dinner had set him off. Harry walked in a minute or so later. He had a bouquet of flowers, all of your favorite flowers to be exact. He walked over with a big grin on his face. “Hey beautiful.” he half hugged you holding the flowers. He hand them over and you smiled. He placed a kiss on your head and grinned. “Those are your favorites right?”

“Yeah, they are beautiful Haz. Thank you.” You carried the flowers to the kitchen to put them in a vase and Harry followed, trailing closely behind you.

“Dinner smells amazing. You know how much I appreciate your spaghetti.” He winked and you grinned shaking your head in response. Your boyfriend walked over and cleared his throat, reminding you he was also here. Harry glared at him, his hand firmly holding yours.

“Harry..” you removed your hand from his and stood between them. “This is my boyfriend.” Your boyfriend stuck his hand out and Harry just looked at it until you gave him the look. Harry reluctantly shook it and rolled his eyes. Harry was about to say something but luckily the timer went off and you pulled the bread out.

“Lets eat.” you said carrying it to the table. Harry sat next across from you and your boyfriend at the table. He kept kicking your feet, playing games like he normally would while eating mouthfuls of spaghetti. Your boyfriend kept looking between you two with an unreadable expression. Harry didn't say a word to him the entire meal and you were a little annoyed he wasn't trying to get to know him.

Towards the end of the meal your boyfriend had finished his plate. He leaned over and kissed you, his lips locking on yours. “That was delicious. Thanks for cooking baby.”

Harry actually choked on the bite of bread he had taken. He watched your boyfriend closely, his eyes full of anger. “I think I’m done.” he pushed his plate forward and leaned back in his chair.

“You never finish without eating at least another helping of spaghetti, let alone not finishing your plate.” You commented.

“I’m feeling a little ill.” he glared at your boyfriend.

“If you're sick you should probably go home..” your boyfriend countered.

You almost spit out your bite of food. You had never seen him jealous before but he looked like he wanted to hurt Harry. “You know-”

“Actually (y/n) and I have a movie night planned tonight. I wouldn't miss that for anything.” Harry crossed his arms and watched, waiting for a response.

Your boyfriend looked over, his mouth dropping. You shrugged your shoulders in response. You didn't mention the movie night to him because you hadn't wanted him insisting on staying. He had been trying to sleep with you for weeks now, but you just weren't feeling it. You had also wanted to be alone with Harry during movie night but theres no way you would ever admit that to either of them. “Can we talk?” he asked looking at you suddenly. You nodded your head and allowed him to pull you into your bedroom. “What the hell?”

“What?” you asked, placing innocent.

“Were you just not going to mention a movie night?”

“I didn’t see it as an important detail. Harry and I always have movie nights once a month on Friday. He’s been gone so of course we are going to have one now that he's back.”

“So I’m not included because?”

“Because...because...” you stumbled. You knew this question had been coming but you weren't ready to answer it. “Harry’s my best friend. I haven't seen him in literally forever. I just wanted it to be us tonight.”

“You need to choose.”

“Excuse me?”

“Its either me or him.”

“Why?”

“Because. The way you look at him, the way you interact with him. It’s like you're both in love with each other. He’s been back one day and he's already taken priority over our relationship. It’s me or it's him. You cant have both.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

You looked at him, mouth open. He was seriously asking you to choose between him and Harry. You laughed angrily and shook your head. “This is ridiculous.”

“It is. But it's still happening. Me or him (y/n). Who's it going to be?”

You didn't even think before answering. “Harry. It will always be Harry.”

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes and walked out without another glance. You followed him to the kitchen and watched him leave without another word. Harry looked back at you confused. You had tears in your eyes and you didn't quite know why. Harry rushed to your side, pulling your arms out and examining them. “Did he hurt you? What happened?” You pushed him off and wiped your eyes.

“He said I needed to choose.”

“Choose?”

“You or him.”

Harry laughed until he realized you were serious. He stopped and looked at you suddenly afraid you weren't going to choose him. He saw the tears in your eyes and he took a step back. You were crying more now because he was moving away, but you reached out for his hand. Harry reluctantly let you grab it, and he pulled you into his arms, rubbing small circles in your back while you cried. “Shh don't cry (y/n).... I get it. You need to pick him. It’s fine. Don't worry about-”

“Pick him?!” you stepped away, snot falling from your nose. “Harry are you kidding me?” You were still crying and Harry was confused. “I picked you. I’ll always pick you. I love you don't you get it.”

You were crying harder now, your once buried feelings for Harry surfacing. Harry stepped closer and without a word or second thought, pressed his lips into yours. You froze. He didn't give up. He bit down on your lower lip, gently tugging. He patiently waited for you his lips rolling against yours. Your mouth opened and his tongue went inside, sliding off of yours. He kissed you like it was the one and only kiss he would ever get. His arms tightened around your waist, picking you up and placing you on the edge of the counter. You tangled your hands in his hair, while his hands dug into your thighs. You groaned into the kiss and he smirked against your lips. His body rested between your legs as he kissed you. He kissed down your neck, sucking and biting the tender skin below your ear. He smiled and ran his finger along the swollen red mark he left before returning his lips to yours. When he finally pulled away you were both gasping for air, your forehead against his shoulder, his breath falling down the back of your neck while he rested his head against yours. “I love you. I’ve loved you for 5 years and I’m done wasting time.” You smiled and wiped your eyes while crying more. He let you use his shirt to wipe your face and then carried you to the couch where he snuggled you into a blanket and held you on his lap. The two of you were so content, you could have cared less that the tv wasn't on and your movie wasn't playing. You had Harry and as long as you had him, everything else would work itself out just fine.

---

Just a small little blurb. Enjoy. xoxo

#one direction #directioners #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagines #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb

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pridesobright · 5 years ago

Note

If you’re up for it, what artist or painting do each of the boys remind you of?

disclaimer: art is subjective, so are people’s opinions, and my choices are based on my perception of the boys’ personalities. you may not agree with me, therefore the paintings might not correspond to what you had imagined… still, i tried to shed a light on my own thoughts, which is something i rarely do on tumblr — i tried to remain as objective and positive as possible!

+ louis —

louis is so fiercely good! supportive, loyal, brave… i’ve never seen someone so witty and intelligent, caring and sensitive. louis shines, louis sparkles!!

but he also tells stories like no else. it is truly fascinating how louis can turn the smallest life experiences into masterpieces!! the raw emotions he’s able to convey in just a sentence: we’re sleeping on our problems like we’ll solve them in our dreams…. it’s easy getting lost into louis’ ocean blue eyes but it’s even easier falling for his talent — through storytelling, louis always shares a positive message and i’m in awe of the way he goes through life despite everything that’s been thrown at him. passionate and driven, louis is authentic and unapologetically himself!

i decided to associate louis with gustav klimt — the artist received a conservative and classical training and began his career painting churches and theaters, following the traditional and historical style popular at the time. quite similar to louis’ mindset at the start of his solo career, klimt focused on what the upper class expected of him! however, he kept developing a more meaningful personal style. one that relied on symbolism and the extensive use of the ornamental gold leaf. his paintings were highly decorative and it is the aesthetic of klimt’s work that made the connection so easy ♡

gustav klimt painted many women in erotic positions, embracing their nudity and a celebration of sexuality, which was controversial at the time. but more than that, the artist depicted loving embraces, abandonment and passion. tenderness. and by coating his paintings in golden powder, klimt created a warm cocoon around his subjects! 1. adele bloch-bauer I - 2. judith I (details) - 3. le baiser (details)

louis is so often associated with the color yellow and it’s easy to understand why — yellow is the most luminous color and is the symbol of happiness, optimism and enlightenment. as a warm color, yellow represents light and creates a sense of hope: it is radiant! gold shares many of the same attributes. it is bright, cheerful and is often associated with love, courage and passion. gold illuminates our world and so does louis!

+ zayn —

zayn is very creative, expressive and imaginative. i’d say he’s cautious and overall very intelligent about his privacy! society will often describe quiet people as mysterious, and it romanticizes anxiety in a way that makes my blood boils… it’s a dangerous culture where people with mental disorders are seen as edgy or cool when in reality they are deeply misunderstood. at times defensive, i believe zayn is strong-willed and values his freedom more than anything!

associating zayn with street art was a given. is there anything more liberating than leaving your trace into the world, anonymously and illegally, without knowing if your work will be painted over in the next few days or a couple of years?

artists such as roa, bansky, kobra, invader or shepard fairey have now made a huge impact, and street art has been popularized. many paintings are known worldwide but before then, you had the travel the world to seek out the artists’ works!

and even if some murals can be seen from afar, they draw you in no matter what. like an invisible pull, some are forcing you to cross the street or climb a few stairs to get closer — zayn draws you in! whether people are affected by his quiet personality, his looks or the sheer quality of his voice, you can’t help but want to learn more about him!

i chose behind the curtain by martin whatson for that very reason! at first cold and unreachable, zayn is full of qualities and life experiences deserving to be uncovered.

martin whatson is a stencil artist working in oslo. looking for beauty in decayed and abandoned urban spaces, he developed his style using grey tones as a basis and adding vibrant colours to bring a splash of life. i also love pull back and behind the wall ♡

+ niall —

to me, niall is the type of person who’s enjoying life as best as he can, and fully appreciating everything there is to offer. whether it be passion, irritation, love, fun or distress. mainly because of his cheerful and bubbly personality, he’s seemingly going through life as if it was a big fest! but don’t be fooled, he knows heartbreak too and there’s more to him!!

niall’s albums feel warm, nostalgic and intimate. we’re being let in into a part of him without any flourishes. a melody strummed on his guitar and here we are, transported into the past and reminiscing about an old lover. niall definitely is a romantic! listening to heartbreak weather, there is so much tenderness into his songs…

this painting is called manège de cochons by robert delaunay — it is part of a series devoted to modern urban life and popular shows. carried away by a whirlwind of vibrant colors, it recreates the lively atmosphere of the fairgrounds.

it definitely represents niall and his complex mind. the colors, so vibrant, are an ode to his cheerfulness. for delaunay, primary colors and their complements exalt each other by contrast. and the same tone can be perceived differently depending on its intensity or its arrangement!

at first, only the vibrancy and the warmth shine through but just like everyone else’s, niall’s mind is intricate. his emotions are raw and he puts his pain into songs, as if to compartmentalize everything. as if to tame those feelings and memories, maybe too loud at times! the colors aren’t just splash of nuances scattered across the canvas, they are deliberate. with purpose, they tell a story…

+ liam —

liam is good! and he always goes out of his way to do something good. he often tries to be more mindful of his actions. he’s constantly learning and just like everyone else liam makes mistakes, but he actively grows from them!!

liam is extremely talented, funny and charismatic, yet i feel like he’s not easily understood. he’s a very sensitive, sincere and sweet person, and despite everything liam went through, he remains cheerful, generous and courageous!

he is also passionate and pursues many hobbies — be it fashion, art, cooking or comics: he is well-versed in many topics and it’s a real pleasure to now follow him on youtube!!

robert rauschenberg was passionate about many mediums himself, and he incorporated newspapers, photographs and even some objects (undershirt, parasol parts) onto the canvas before adding broad strokes of paint! he kept exploring the boundaries of art and closely followed the current events of the time, using images of space flight and NASA’s photographs into his work — space (tribute 21) is a personal favorite ♡

i actually picked a selection of artworks to match liam’s personality: 1. untitled (red painting) - 2. untitled (red painting) - 3. red interior. i particularly love that last one, as the far-right stripe reminds me of liam’s chevron tattoo!!

for many years now, liam has been associated with red and it’s no surprise at all — red is the color of passionate love, seduction and adventure. strength, vitality and ambition. it used to be seen as the color of fire, a primal life force. to the greeks, red symbolized super-human heroism. liam is a force of nature, strong both physically and mentally. he is hard-working and energetic!

+ harry —

forget about the way harry has been portrayed ever since he was a sixteen-year-old boy. forget about the curls and the dimples. simply observe the person harry is today. take a closer look at what he decides to share with us. pay attention to the way he’s presenting himself.

fine line (the album) takes us on an introspective journey into his deepest emotions — whether it be torment or happiness. and i think it’s fascinating how well-executed his songs are! even in a catchy and happy song such as golden, harry managed to address quite a raw and painful concept: i’m hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky / i don’t want to be alone — it’s heartbreaking, yet you almost wished you could feel it too!

through various allegories and metaphors, harry makes you question yourself. he interrogates you and talks about a reality you didn’t know existed or could relate to. harry is magnetic.

this painting is called composition XI by vassily kandinsky — and i can’t help but compare both harry and vassily. kandinsky was a painter, professor, poet and art theorist, generally credited as the pioneer of abstract art! he spent years creating sensorially rich paintings, and was fascinated by musicians who could evoke images in listeners’ minds. he strove to work with forms and colors that alluded to sounds and emotions!!

in songs like fine line, the music swells and deflates as if it was a beating heart. each track conveys a different emotion and translates a distinct concept! through his melodies, harry aims to make us feel joy, melancholy, determination or bitterness, even when the lyrics are anything but. his albums leave us speechless and wondering, just like abstract art!

+ overall, this is what art is meant to make you feel! it’s supposed to challenge you. art is meant to make you rethink your boundaries and open up your mind. it’s meant to question you and leave you wanting for more! you are meant to listen to a song several times to fully understand its meaning, and meant to stand in front of a painting for hours to start grasping the artist’s thought process…

yet art remains subjective! depending on your own life experiences and upbringing. art is free for you to interpret as you wish and so is music! i hope you enjoyed this post, thank you for reading it ♡

#have i spent way too much time on this? YES #did i turn the ask into an essay?? YES #i hope at least a few people will be interested in this #and as i said in the disclaimer: those are MY opinions #i hope you're still around there anon ♡#jess parle à la lune #jess répond

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