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soshadysoquiet · 7 months ago

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TUA fanfic WIP: Sibling Beach Trip

I've recently devoured @assaily 's WIP posts and you know what, why hoard all of my WIPs when I may never finish them and people might enjoy them?

Having said that this isn't a snippet so much as it's a 2 thirds done fic that I've lost inspiration for the ending for so grab yourself a drink and enjoy!

Working Title: Beach No Beach. Love a working title

Length: 6k. Self control? Who is she?

Premise: Post apocalypse a family beach trip is proposed. Five has his reservations and is finding real life hard to adjust to, but he'll go if that's the Sibling Movement of the week. This is basically a slice of life fic that I'm pretty sure was going to build to Diego needing to save Five from drowning at the beach, because of course it was, but I think the rest of this has enough low-level angst and family moments to be entertaining on it's own.

Warnings: This fic discusses body dysmorphia in small detail and has underage drinking from Five.

It was embarrassing. More than embarrassing, really.

Shameful.

But Five couldn’t swim.

They’d had what constituted as ‘lessons’ when they were kids, apparently. Five had very limited memories of life before the Apocalypse, and often they seemed more surreal than anything.

‘We did?’ He asked blankly, barely looking over his morning cup of coffee to Viktor and Klaus.

‘All the time bro!’ Klaus replied breathily, laughing, eyes just a little wide in the thrill of memory, or possibly at Five not remembering something. ‘You don’t remember the pool? I’m pretty sure Dad blocked off the door after we started sneaking down there to play.’

‘I remember.’ Viktor nodded along, smile curling his lips so that his face lit up. ‘That’s how we found about Diego-‘

‘And his creepy fish power!’ Klaus looked ready to implode with hysteria and even Viktor bent to the table with a snort before looking between them.

‘You really don’t remember that?’

‘Diego isn’t a fish…’ He spoke slowly. He was talking to children after all. Or maybe he was hallucinating again. It happened. Hiding his grimace, Five took a sip.

‘Yeah! Yeah he can really hold his breath, come on you have to remember that, we teased him for weeks!’

‘Yeah that was kinda mean of us.’ Viktor grimaced a little into his own coffee. Probably for no reason, Viktor at that age wouldn’t have said Boo to a goose.

Hold his breath? It almost was a memory. Someone laughing, Diego pouting, then throwing a fit.

‘I think I’d remember us finding out about that.’

‘Maybe you blocked it out, it was pretty horrible at the time.’ The tone shifted after Viktor’s words.

‘Why doesn’t that surprise me.’

‘What doesn’t surprise you?’ Diego.

‘Speak of the devil!’ Klaus chorused, Five flinched a little at Diego’s hand falling briefly onto his shoulder as he passed. But it was barely noticeable now, he’d almost got a hang on it. ‘We were reminiscing about the time Dear old Dad decided to test out our underwater endurance.’

‘You mean when he held us all under the water until you all near passed out and I beat all your asses.’

‘Definitely would have remembered that one.’ Five murmured, covering up the chill skipping over his flesh.

‘Technically you didn’t beat my ass, since I wasn’t included in How to Drown Your Kids 101.’ Viktor replied with a darkly amused smirk and the sort of steel satisfaction that only true trauma inspired.

‘Well I’d have beaten you too.’ Diego retorted, confident as he went about fetching some ungodly looking juice concoction from the fridge.

How many different fruits went into just that, how many vegetables? The math wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worth the pang of mixed dread and desire it inspired in him.

‘And then we all called you, ah, well, never mind eh?’ Diego’s glare had silenced Klaus.

‘For the record, we’re sorry.’ Viktor offered, voice so gentle and meaning.

‘I’ve got nothing to be sorry for.’ Five retorted. He wasn’t there after all, and he was above childish name calling. He had found more creative insults.

‘Well you got off the hook easily anyway, you weren’t even there.’ Diego chimed in, but did take the time to nod to Viktor in a passing sense of camaraderie. He sat heavily at the table and looked at them all as he took a drink. ‘What brought this on anyway?’

‘We’re trying to convince little Fivey-‘

‘Older than you!’ His insistence was soundly ignored.

‘To come to the beach with us all at the weekend.’ Diego hastily swallowed the mouthful of his juice. What could all those ingredients even taste like together? Five shook his head at the sight.

‘Hell yeah you should come! You don’t get out enough.’

‘I get out plenty.’

‘To the library maybe.’ Klaus mumbled, twiddling with the buttons undone on his shirt.

‘Come on Five, it would be fun!’

‘Would it really?’ He sighed, wished he’d just blinked back up to his room with the coffee.

‘Its the beach bro.’ Diego’s voice was so deadpan that Five managed to feel insulted.

‘There isn’t even anything there! It’s all dead anyway!’ One of his hands gestured with the coffee cup for effect as he complained but the others were staring at him and, oh, right. Nervously he cleared his throat. ’I mean-‘

‘No, no what is it?’ Klaus was too gentle. They’d started doing this recently, paying attention to him rather than responding with their own drama and pushing what he said aside. Five didn’t know what to do with it. And it only took a few rapid equations to work out the cheapest way out of this situation.

‘Fine I’ll go. But don’t expect me to enjoy it.’ He blinked away. But not far.

Paranoid.

‘Alright alright.’ Five muttered quietly at Dolores’ imagined critique from where he sat in the pantry, listening.

‘Well, that was surprisingly easy, only took ten minutes.’ Klaus sounded both pleased and a little disappointed. Had he not wanted Five to come after all, or had he just wanted to do more wheedling?

‘What do you think he meant by it being dead?’ Viktor asked, voice contemplative and too damn observant.

‘I swear to God Klaus, if you making him go to the beach causes another apocalypse-‘

Diego and Klaus devolved into childish squabbles and Five blinked out of the pantry.

The beach huh. He hadn’t seen it in decades. He’d only been the once. If they’d ever done any missions by the sea as children Five certainly didn’t remember it.

It could be nice this time.

‘We can’t swim Dolores.’ In the emptiness of his room, the reminder drifted lifeless. He’d learned that one the hard way. ‘And only you can float.’

A weekend beach trip sounded like hell to Five but apparently he was one of the few. Yet it was interesting that the closer they got to the date the more cracks appeared in the others’ armour.

Diego would boast about his abilities, but when Luther had guffawed ‘oh my god! Fish-Boy!’ Their knife-wielding vigilante had begun to stammer on and off when they talked about the ocean. Allison had bitched at Luther down the phone for it, as had Klaus in person. Five had been listening in on parts of the phone call.

Because he liked to hear their voices, not because he was paranoid, Dolores!

But it wasn’t just Diego.

Allison had sounded hesitant, and wanted to bring Claire, but remained nervous about mixing Claire with their family. Five usually made himself scarce on the rare occasions that Allison brought Claire around. It had only been twice, but no matter how much he wanted to meet her, Five didn’t have anything to fall back on when interacting with people outside his siblings. Unless they were a threat, or it was for less than two minutes.

Three minutes fifteen had been his record, at the library where he went to practice. And after that he’d had to go hide in the bathroom stall and have a minor panic attack.

With people that mattered it was harder. Because there was only so long Five could talk to someone who mattered before he fucked it up. He’d only been able to say ‘Hi, nice to meet you’ to Claire before becoming overwhelmed by her childlike open-stare and making an excuse to run away. But he wasn’t the only reason for Allison’s hesitance.

Five thought she was worried about the crazy rubbing off.

During last month’s visit Klaus had told Claire the story of Dead Uncle Ben after she’d caught Klaus talking to what looked like thin air. Five had overheard on the phone call the week after how Claire had begun ‘talking to Dead Uncle Ben’ at school. For a custody battle situation, it was understandably a nightmare.

Diego always had knives on him, and children had sticky fingers. Claire kept trying to pull them out from Diego’s pockets and holsters and fingers. It wasn’t as if Diego encouraged or approved of it, but he had offered to teach her before he’d caught Allison’s look. And even at the beach Diego would probably be packing at least three knives. Probably more.

Luther had been fine at first, and was Claire’s favourite uncle. But then the Holy Trinity of Stupid; hitherto named Klaus, Luther and Diego, had loudly reminisced about the all the times Luther had accidentally injured them during training when they were kids. Even Five had joined in; Luther smacking him hard enough into the wall after a mis-timed jump and cracking his arm during combat training were ironically some of his clearer memories. Allison trusted Luther with Claire’s life, but she had looked a little green around the gills as they all laughed about it.

Viktor hadn’t done anything to directly inspire worry, but Allison had told Luther she was worried about Claire finding out what she’d done to her sibling when they were children. Five had stopped listening to the phone call once Allison started crying, feeling more than a little guilty about his eavesdropping.

So, Allison was apprehensive about Family Fun-Time at the Beach because it involved Family Fun-Time. Otherwise known as ill-facilitated chaos.

Klaus worried about taking Ben to the ocean and Ben being sad about only being able to be so-corporeal in the ocean. A guilt Five felt Klaus didn’t need to put on himself, given that without him there would be no beach for Ben. But he’d been told he had a rather unsympathetic view on things and asked to leave. It didn’t help that Ben was apparently desperate to go to the ocean and also sad about it, apparently.

Or so Five could tell from what he’d heard when he stood nearby Klaus’ room at night, or followed him at night down the street, or when he was hiding in the pantry eating fluffed-nutter sandwiches and just listening to his siblings being alive.

Friday lunchtime and Five thought that most of the pre-beach drama had probably run its course, that said nothing for what would blow up when they were actually there in typical Hargreeves-style. And he counted the journey to and from as a separate nightmarish entity altogether, but at least this time he was one of the cats to be herded, not the one doing the herding. Small mercies.

They were just lucky that Lila had decided not to come. Apparently their powers ‘gave her a headache’ whilst she was pregnant. Five had gone to visit her out of boredom and sibling duty, and swore to report back on the idiocy for her, and had somehow gotten roped into shopping.

‘Just zap us all there, I want to feel alive again.’

‘You could do it yourself.’ He pointed out, and she groaned and grabbed his hand. They did that a lot, held hands. Five had actually come to enjoy the brusque contact with his most violent sister. There remained a certain comfort in the knowledge he was holding the hand of another killer.

‘Don’t be a prick.’ She groaned. He waited, brow raised. ‘Look you’re more practiced than me alright! I don’t want to jump there and find out little Lila Junior is all over the floor somewhere else!’

‘Okay that’s disgusting.’ He’d blinked them just to stop the conversation, but not so quick that he hadn’t seen her wicked grin at his pain.

And, of course, after jumping that far, he didn’t have the juice to escape.

‘Do you even own anything that isn’t some god-awful dark academia bullshit?’

‘Rich coming from a punk.’

‘You’re going to the beach not a banquet-‘ They’d snapped and bitten at each other whilst grinning through their shark teeth and Lila had forced him to buy a pair of truly heinous swimming trunks about the length of the Academy shorts he’d used to wear. At least until Allison had dragged him out shopping again.

‘You wore that nice suit in the Sparrow timeline, you do not need to go back to looking like a prep-school kid.’

At least Allison had taste.

And secretly, Five had been glad that someone had made him do it. Old routines were the hardest to break for him when they seemed so ultimately unimportant.

‘Sunglasses!’ Lila belted out, breaking his musings and dragged him roughly over to a stand. She’d fussed over trying on shades and insisting on him doing the same and Five had allowed himself to pick out a pair he actually quite liked.

They suit you better than those goggles. Five huffed a smile at that. Dolores always had deplored his apocalyptic wardrobe.

‘I just, I want to be out there, but I’m not sure I’m ready to be out there.’ Five’s head popped up over the sunglasses stand.

‘Viktor? Luthor?’

‘Five!’

‘Lila?’

‘There’s the boys! No Klaus?’

‘He was, um, what are you doing here?’ Luther stumbled the words, other than Klaus and Five, the siblings were still somewhat awkward around Diego’s partner. Lila didn’t let it show, but Five thought the distance there bothered her. Five certainly wasn’t the one to know what to do about it. Klaus had told him he ‘imprinted’, like a duckling, and that had been enough ‘friendship’ talk to last another lifetime.

And he got embarrassed enough by Diego’s obvious happiness at him taking the time to include Lila.

Five held up the shorts he was being frog-marched into buying.

Not that there was a point, because he wouldn’t be stepping foot in the ocean ever again.

‘Apparently this is required dress code.’

‘Oh, same.’ Luther grinned a bit, before his face fell. Viktor, who’d been the one talking earlier, looked a little sullen.

‘No offence, but me and my spawn are going to walk away from all this.’ Lila gestured and excited stage left back towards the child section where, embarrassingly, Five had just come from to get the shorts in his hand. She had meant that their powers were bothering her, a weird pregnancy side-effect, but the pair of them looked a little slapped in the face.

‘What’s up with you two?’ Five asked, coming around the sunglasses stand to eye them up and down better. ‘Was it Diego? It’s usually Diego.’

‘What? No.’ Luther insisted. Viktor cleared his throat.

‘It’s just,’ Viktor paused for a breath and looked to Luther, who nodded encouragingly. ‘It’s hard to, cross some hurdles, with the dysmorphia.’

‘It’ll get easier, or I hope it will.’ Luther’s half-encouragement was half-hearted but well meaning, and Viktor offered him a small sad smile. Five just frowned at them.

‘Dysmorphia?’ He rolled the word around, squinting. ‘The medical condition?’ He frowned harder. In a sense, Luther’s ape-like physicality could be called that. But Sloane had gone a long way to helping with that. But she wasn’t fully welcomed into the loving disaster that was his family yet, so she wouldn’t be at the beach. Maybe that was the problem.

He’d said the wrong thing, Luther was flushed in embarrassment and Viktor put a hand on his arm before cutting in.

‘No, well-‘

‘Sort of, in my case. Both I guess.’ Luther spoke over Viktor, seeming to pull in his confidence with a truly remarkable strength. Strength of character that their father had always failed to measure. Much like Viktor’s patience.

‘Body dysmorphia. It’s when you might feel like the way your body looks isn’t how you think it should be. It’s how I felt, before. And somedays there’s another new hurdle to cross.’

‘It’s not comfortable, the idea of being on show like that.’ They managed their words with aplomb, but Five was somewhere between them and himself.

Maybe that was selfish, but he found himself looking at his own hands as they spoke, jaw a little slack.

Dysmorphia.

‘Oh.’ He didn’t have many more words for them, but the silence suggested he should, so he pulled away from himself and looked to them again. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

Taken aback a little by the blunt question, they looked at each other. Viktor found his voice first.

‘We were debating between making a ’t-shirts are ok’ pact or a-‘

‘’Skin or nothing’ oath.’ Luther finished. Five didn’t think he had the skill set to say the right thing.

You do. Dolores insisted softly. You’re kinder than you think.

‘Well, let me know what you decide.’ He offered, hoping he was somewhere on the track to wiping the misery off their faces. Three apocalypses and it’s still the human condition bringing us all down. ‘I’ll join you.’ Decidedly he nodded, and turned to make sure Lila wasn’t getting caught shoplifting. Honestly her skills needed some improvement. Although she would probably say the same about him.

Viktor and Luther’s seaside-problems Five could understand maybe a bit better on a personal level than those afflicting the rest of his family, because there was a certain degree of dysmorphia to all their bodily situations that didn’t bother dwelling on but couldn’t not be dwelt on at the beach. It wasn’t like he enjoyed looking at himself in the mirror, so on some level he got it.

He’d bring a t-shirt in case.

Despite their united worry, and Five’s pessimism, the Hargreeves family all descended on the mansion Friday evening for their trip to the beach the following day.

Five nearly blinked to the roof when Claire ran up and hugged him, standing with his fists clenched throughout and then vanishing behind the bar. As in hidden behind the bar. He had long ago sworn to Allison that he wouldn’t drink in front of Claire. They could at least both agree that she was a child.

Luther and surprisingly Viktor got drunk on the other side of the bar and Klaus merrily joined in.

Lila dropped Diego off to stay overnight since they had an early start come the morning, and Five contemplated blinking into their car to escape whilst Diego shouted at her to not do anything criminal while he was gone.

Allison escaped to smoke twice in between fretting about which sibling to entrust Claire to in the meantime, and quickly decided to just put Claire to bed instead.

Five listened to it all hidden behind the bar. Klaus knew he was there, he kept passing his glass down for Five to refill. Five left a shot out for Ben as well, because it felt polite, Even if apparently Ben disapproved of alcohol.

All too soon, they were turning in for the night in dribs and drabs.

Five hung on until the end. Surprisingly with Luther and Viktor.

‘Ahem.’ Luther cleared his throat and knocked a little sloppily on the bar top as they were turning to go. Five had been humming ‘Dream a little Dream of me’ for Dolores for the last few minutes and hiccupped himself to a stop. ‘For tomorrow, no shirts.’

‘No shirts!’ Viktor chorused loudly and very, very drunk, toppling a little from the sounds of it.

‘No shirts!’ Luther joined in and the pair stumbled up for the night.

‘No shirts.’ He toasted to the air, took his last swig and went to pick up Dolores-

But she wasn’t there. The shop had thrown her away.

In a flash the martini glass he’d been drinking from smashed against the bar where he’d thrown it.

You’re gonna have to clean that up now.

‘I know, I know.’

He ignored the catch in his voice as he moved to do just that, craving to hold her and getting glass shards instead.

—

‘Get up Five! Christ, there’s always one.’

‘And it’s usually him, or you. Actually it's usually you.’

‘Shut up and help me! Oh wait you can’t.’

‘Wow, low blow.’

‘Oh I can go lower-‘

‘Shut up.’ Five smacked his pillow at Klaus like a true teenager and glowered. His hair was ruffled and he smelt like a bar.

‘You look like some nasty little cat I found on the sidewalk and just want to put in a blanket,’ Klaus half-crooned, half sneered, grabbing his grumbling gremlin of a brother. ‘Now come on, get up and showered or Allison will have our asses.’

‘Have our asses!’ All three of them turned with slightly horrified gazes to see Claire standing in the door giggling, fingers pressed over her mouth and looking like she knew exactly what she was doing. The little tyrant. With a final giggle she turned and ran. ‘Mooooooom!’

‘No no no no no!’ Klaus abandoned Five to his fate and sprinted off after his favourite little terror of a niece. If she made it to Allison, they were all doomed.

She made it Allison.

Five managed to get himself somewhat presentable, down the stairs and into clothes. In fact they all did, more or les on time, it was a Hargreeves miracle.

‘Loving the shorts buddy. You needed more colour in your wardrobe.’

‘Keep talking and I’ll sk-‘ Five stopped himself, Ben snorted uncharitably behind Klaus’ shoulder as Claire looked eerily around at them, eyes wide and guileless. Klaus cleared his throat whilst Five’s brain seemed to re-wire itself, clutching his coffee for dear life and eyes shielded by shades. ‘Skkkunk you.’

‘Skunk you.’ Claire mouthed, hand benignly in Allison’s, eyes bright with hell-fire.

‘Skunk me?’ Klaus turned to Five again, disbelief and laughter battling for dominance in his chest. ‘That’s the best you could do?’

‘Keep talking, and you’ll find out.’ Five’s coffee got grumbled into and Ben guffawed behind them.

‘You’re both idiots.’

‘Shut up Ben!’

‘Dead Uncle Ben’s here?!’ Klaus shrivelled under the weight of Allison’s incredulous raised brows turning to him with the sweet promise of death as Ben ‘awwed’ behind him.

Allison had already had to put up with Claire having a tantrum about not being able to talk to Uncle Ben, and had thrown her hands in the air when Klaus had said Ben also wanted to talk to Claire.

‘Sure, why not! Let’s just wheel her right into therapy rather than window-shopping it!’ She had stormed to the back of the bus and sat next to Five, because he was currently the quietest and she saw the least of him.

Ben’s blue conjured form absolutely enchanted Claire, and her eyes swelled so large and happy and un-affected by rumour as she looked gleefully between Dead Uncle Ben and her Mom that it made Allison’s heart lighter.

Watching Ben form into what existence Klaus could give him was always a delight, if a bittersweet one, and Allison found herself relaxing a bit at watching the joint joy on her child and brother’s faces.

They had taken the bus to the beach, changed three times and by the time the ocean breeze was coming salty and refreshing through the window Allison’s hungover siblings had drunk enough coffee, water and juice to grace the land of the living. Viktor and Luther had woken from their nap enough to tease Diego about his upcoming life of parenthood. She’d berate them, or join them, but honestly they were just the warm up act for the terror Allison herself could inspire if she told Diego the truth of parenting. But she didn’t quite want to do that.

Something in her knew the horrors too well to joke about them right now, the emotions always too present. And some dark voice inside her said that she didn’t get to lord it over anyone. Not with the mess she’d made the first time round.

And probably was making, letting her kid talk to her ghost Uncle.

‘It’ll be fine.’ Allison jolted a bit, and glanced down at Five, slumped still somewhat bonelessly, dressed in a plain top and tropical beach shorts that were almost the same shade of yellow as Allison’s own bikini under her wrap dress. Five was alert enough to be verbal, which was good, but not quite enough to move further down the bus and put up with their family’s particular brand of unending bullshit.

‘What will?’ She asked, bewildered. ‘This family trip? I’m pretty sure its’ already gone way better than it should, which means we’re due for a tsunami at least.’ He snickered at that and she smiled at the rarely heard sound.

‘Well I won’t disagree, but I meant Claire with Ben. If anyone can talk sense to her, it’s the one who usually holds the brain cell.’

And Five was somewhat right. Despite the way he very awkwardly coughed and looked through his fringe out the window when Claire came to sit between them.

‘Mom, I’m sorry about pretending to see Dead Uncle, I mean, Uncle Ben at school. I know it’s a Serious Topic now.’ She nodded solemnly, and Allison felt her face crease up in adoration at the attemptive-adult look on her daughter’s angelic face. And the apology that she wasn’t sure she deserved, but couldn’t help melting over. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop talking about him because Uncle Ben and Death are important.’ And just like that, adoration turned to the sort of disbelief that only children could inspire. Five snorted.

‘Smart kid.’ He muttered, and Allison found her smile reforming.

‘Thank you Claire, and you’re right, those are important topics. We’ll have a talk about bluntness at, a much, much later date.’ Because there were only so many Serious Parenting Moments she could handle before 10 in the morning. She thought she had an easy out, but then Five was turning to Claire with a devilish look at Allison over his glasses and a truly awful smile. Her stomach dropped.

‘Whatever she says don’t listen to her, your Mom mastered bluntness at age Six.’

‘Six?!’

‘Six.’ Five nodded.

‘I think you should go talk to Uncle Ben while he’s here sweetie, Uncle Klaus can only keep him visible so long-‘

‘But I wanna talk to Uncle Five too!’

‘No you don’t-‘ Allison and Five flashed each other an awkward look at their matching words.

‘Hey Claire! Claire! Wanna see the octopus in Uncle Ben’s belly-‘

‘NO SHOWING HER THE HORROR!’ Allison shouted as Claire squealed and ran for a glaring Ben and shit-eating Klaus.

She didn’t have one child, she had a whole bus of them.

The beach spray in the air wasn’t like he’d thought it would be.

Five watched the unreal blue hue of the ocean, heard the waves crash rather than slosh thickly, felt sand rather than trash and rubble under his feet.

It was beautiful.

‘So, we doing this?’

‘We’re doing this.’ He glanced to Luther and Viktor. They’d set up their family’s base-camp on the beach, and Allison was over at the nearby changing huts getting Claire sorted. Diego had set them up under one of the available umbrellas and was lecturing Klaus on sunscreen. Because of course he was.

Red rays from the too-hot sunlight burnt through the distorted atmosphere, piercing dust-and-storm clouds, lighting the grey sloshing water in an eerie light.

‘Don’t you want to swim? I always wanted to swim.’

‘Hey Five!’ Sand hit him in the face. Five spluttered and spun around. No crap littering the golden sands. Just his family and the blue tide. Disguising his shaky breath, Five glared at Diego. ‘You too, sun cream, come on line up.’

‘Sun cream Nazi.’

‘Want me to spray it in your face Klaus?’ Klaus just groaned, turning around obediently as Diego sprayed an endless can of aerosol ‘factor 30’ onto his pale skin.

‘Might as well get it over with Five. He’ll have his way.’ Klaus pouted.

‘That I will, alright, you’re done, come back in three hours.’

‘Alright Mom.’ Klaus mocked with a grin and escaped away, donning his brimmed hat and heading to the ocean.

‘You’re up.’ Diego beckoned him over and Five shook his head snorting.

‘The sun’s not even radioactive at this point.’ Diego stared and then grabbed him.

‘You’re the most in danger, young skin is important to protect.’

‘Get off me!’ Five snatched the can and roughly sprayed over himself before throwing it back. ‘Happy?’

‘That’s not how you apply sunscreen bro.’

‘Its literally what you just did.’

‘No sunscreen, no sun.’ Diego stated with an impressive amount of finality and pointed at the towels under the parasol where Viktor and Luther were lurking. Beyond them, Allison was running after Claire to the water.

‘Fine by me.’ He wasn’t swimming anyway, and he’d had enough of the sun’s harsh rays. Diego seemed appeased, and headed to the ocean himself.

Five settled down and, seeing his remaining brothers had already removed their shirts, did the same. Solidarity and all.

Job done, he settled back, and watched the ocean.

It was even more mesmeric now than it had been back then, thick with ash and ruined life, but the largest amount of water he’d seen in months.

He hadn’t washed in months.

Is it even real? Dolores laughed at him

‘Of course it’s real.’ Walking there had been a dream, heart thudding, shedding clothes along the way haphazardly, stumbling over ruble and Dolores in his arms, in a dream till the water sloshed over his ankles.

The sensation had sent shivers up his spine.

‘Hey, you swimming?’ Viktor nudged him back into focus and Five looked around him, glad of the sunglasses hiding his eyes.

‘No.’

‘Really? But we’re at the beach, and it’s pretty empty, even Luther’s in.’ It took Five a moment to notice that yes, he was. Tossing Claire up in the air and into the water as she squealed in delight. Diego looked like he was doing some pretty serious swimming while Klaus and Allison lounged in the shallows.

‘You go, have fun. I’ll guard the camp. Wouldn’t want us loosing our clothes.’ He got a frown at that, but Five had lost his Academy uniform that day on the beach and with it the only reminder of home he had left, the only identity he had. Not to mention the only clothes he’d had.

Just because he’d wanted to feel water and hadn’t weighed them down.

‘Well, come over when you’re ready. You’ll like it.’ He grinned in lieu of answering and Viktor shrugged and went off, both him and Luther bare-skinned from the waist up and wearing it with growing confidence.

Smiling a little, Five folded his arms behind his head and stretched his toes into the sand. It burned a bit, but the feeling was unlike anything he’d felt before. He kept doing it over and over, finally sitting up and admitting that he wanted to touch it.

Five settled off the towel and felt the sand all over, shivering, digging his fingers into it.

Dry and hot on top, cool and heavier underneath if he dug down far enough.

Golden, soft.

His fingers found a shell and Five took a while staring at the delicate pattern, mesmerised. He looked for more.

‘What are you doing?’ Five had to get a better handle on being snuck up on. He looked around to see Claire staring at him, rocking on her feet.

‘Finding shells.’ He replied.

‘I’ll help!’ She lay down next to the hole he’d dug and reached her arms in to tease through the sand. ‘They’re pretty.’

‘Uh, sure.’ Seeing how deep Claire had to reach into the hole, Five looked around and winced. Half of their belongings were covered in sand and to match the hole was a large mountain he’d moved aside, digging straight down mindlessly.

‘Is this one good?’ Claire pulled out a long, thin shell, poking Five’s knee with it.

‘Its great.’ He took it and tried not to feel her eyes on him as he looked it over. ‘It’s a razor clam shell.’ He offered, turning it over in his fingers and admiring the barred pattern. He put it in the ‘clam’ pile.

‘Really? What’s this one.’

‘A snail.’

‘And this one?’ Five glanced over from where he’d reached for another speck of porcelain white buried in the sand.

‘A crab claw.’

‘Where’s the rest of the crab?’

‘Given that that’s it’s arm, I’m assuming that it’s dead.’

‘Like Uncle Ben.’

‘Like Uncle Ben. Although, I don’t know if crabs have ghosts that stick around, that’s really an ethical and philosophical debate on the presence of a soul and frankly it’s exhausting.’

‘Oh.’

‘Claire! There you are, don’t run off like that!’ Allison looked vaguely harassed as she hurried to them. ‘Oh, Five, thanks for looking after her.’

‘Don’t mention it.’ He replied, somewhat guilty where he had moved to sit in the hole he’d dug, and hadn’t even noticed Claire being ‘missing’ in the first place. He’d been too focused by the texture of sand and delicate shells.

‘What are you two doing?’ The frown and amused quirk to her mouth suggested that this wasn’t normal.

‘Uncle Five’s collecting shells.’ Incredulous eyes turned his way, Five scowled.

‘I can stop.’ He snapped out.

‘No, no Five, it’s okay. People collect shells at the beach.’ Her assurance was swift but gentle, genuine. Claire was looking at him wide-eyed.

‘Oh. Okay.’ He replied, somewhat derailed from defending himself.

Prickly. Five ignored Dolores’ fond chuckle.

‘Impressive hole Five.’ Luther came up behind Allison and Five hopped out enough to sit on the rim of his sand pit. Claire squealed on seeing him and reached up to be lifted, she kept hold of the crab claw.

‘What is that?’

‘It’s Uncle Five’s dead crab!’

‘Don’t touch things like that!’ Allison wrestled it from Claire who pouted.

‘Uncle Five touched it!’

‘Well, he’s a heathen, not a lady.’ Five snorted, but didn’t deny it. ‘Let’s go wash your hands.’ Claire was led away with a plea of ‘but mooooooom’ and Luther took her place.

‘You’re not swimming?’

‘Apparently I’m collecting shells.’ Five gestured over to the neatly sorted collection he’d accumulated.

Dolores liked them.

‘I just thought you were digging a hole. Maybe we should make a sand castle.’

‘A what?’ Luther was already gathering the sand Five had piled up and grinned.

‘I’ll show you! I used to try and make miniature ones on the moon with the moon dust I collected, but we could make a really big one!’ The childlike enthusiasm was enough to stir Five’s eternal curiosity, he followed Luther out of his hole and felt the sun lap his skin as they began forming a ‘foundation’.

It was surprisingly enjoyable. Therapeutically technical.

It looks good.

It did, Five thought.

Give it a tower for me, like a princess would have.

‘It needs a tower.’

‘Good idea. And a flag.’

They built for a while before Diego came to join them and added himself in with a comment of ‘sick’. They stuck one of Diego’s knives in the top in place of a flag and Viktor and Klaus came by with a heaping assortment of lunch foods.

‘Feeding time at the zoo!’

Allison and Claire followed having been in the sea again, and Five got up and stretched from where he’d been hunched over. The water glittered in the sun.

Five thought he might like the beach.

‘Five, your back!’

‘What about it?’ Five looked at Diego askance but got pushed under the shade.

‘It’s coming up red already, I told you to stay in the shade.’

‘Such a parent in the making.’ Klaus teased. ‘What? I think it’s sweet, really!’ Ben, apparently, was getting involved.

‘I’m fine.’ Five protested, but was wrangled onto one of their sandy towels and he watched bemused as Diego wetted a t-shirt and draped it over Five’s shoulders. The coolness did feel good, he hadn’t realised how hot his skin had gotten. Sometimes it was hard to feel things.

‘After lunch, you’re putting sunscreen on.’ Diego warned with a raised finger and firm stare. ‘Now drink your water.’

‘You’re not the boss of me.’ But he wasn’t about to waste water, so he drunk what he was given and ate the hotdog passed his way and listened to their chatter. With the distraction of the sand gone, his thoughts ticked lazily back to the last ocean trip he’d had.

He’d been so hungry that time that he’d contemplated eating one of the rotting fish carcasses before deciding better.

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #tua fan fiction #tua fanfic #allison hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #ben hargreeves #family bonding #slice of life #wip

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wavesoutbeingtossed · 6 months ago

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“Just how low did you think I’d go before I’d self-implode, before I’d have to go be free?” is kind of the thesis statement to TTPD.

From the story being told in these songs, as well as what we’d previously heard, she sank lower and lower in depression (and self-harm) as the relationship disintegrated until it hit its final dying throes that she did inevitably snap, and for a time did self-implode. And in her case, the self-implosion came in the form of blowing up her life and running to another ill-fated relationship, because things has gotten so bad that *that* felt like a viable alternative to the life she’d been leading.

And in the depths of her pain, it *did* feel like freedom. (Not a coincidence that Fresh Out The Slammer follows shortly after on the track list.) Even removing the rebound out of it, having to cut herself off from that cage had to feel like finally letting out the breath she’d been holding in after the sharp intake of breath from YLM.

Everything that comes before So Long London could be interpreted as setting the stage and introducing the themes that culminate in this very moment: the suburban gothic fantasy of Fortnight giving an unwelcome glimpse into an unhappy future on the present course, TTPD laying the groundwork of the appeal of reconnection from the past and of the fantasy of the alternative, My Boy giving excruciating insight of being hurt by someone trusted and Down Bad succinctly painting a picture of the immediate fallout of the self-implosion.

So Long London is her jailbreak, but it’s also a treatise on the events leading up to it. She’s not just angry at the subject for not fighting for them, for not caring for her and for their relationship, for not acknowledging how much he hurt her. She’s asking, what other choice did you think I had? What else was I supposed to do? This was killing me and the only way I could end it was brutally because you wouldn’t take it seriously until I blew it and myself up.

There are so many parallels to You’re Losing Me, and many of us have clocked that this song is like the sequel to YLM with a little distance and perspective, but it strikes me that one of the parallel to “just how low did you think I’d go before I self-implode?” is “Every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes, how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying?” She’d been saying for ages how this was killing her and showing in just as many other ways, all to be ignored as she fought on the frontlines of his army. It’s a picture of someone willfully ignoring the other’s pain, yet holding onto their indignation when that neglect leads to explosive results.

The rest of the album colours in some of the lines of that self-implosion: giving in to fantasies about someone else because her partner has turned away, running into the arms of someone despite the loud voices telling her he’s wrong, lashing out at others who have hurt her and continue to hurt her even in the wake of this latest scandal, the dawning realization that the quick-fix scheme is perhaps another spike in the road, the latest loss that leaves her unmoored and causes all these issues to come home to roost, the unparalleled anger at being used yet again, the pain of the spotlight in an industry ready to cut any woman down at the drop of the hat, and also finally finding someone who does cherish her and does realize they’re on the same team.

So if, as she says in the epilogue, that TTPD is a glimpse into a period of so-called mania, it’s the verbalization of the self-implosion she warned about in So Long London. She asked him rhetorically how low he thought she’d have to go before she lost it, and TTPD as an album ends up laying out the evidence to how low she did indeed have to end up before she was free of not only him but of the demons that had plagued them both.

(Hence why So Long London is absolutely important as a Track 5 because it *is* the breaking point that leads to the events thereafter in the story, and the foil to what she does eventually learn and find elsewhere. She did have to go be free and discovered plenty of other things as a result.)

#the tortured poets department #so long london #writing letters addressed to the fire #me thinking too hard about Taylor lyrics

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tayloralisonswift · 5 months ago

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so long london is actually about my relationship to girl/womanhood. my spine split from carrying us up the hill. i left all i knew. the spirit was gone, we would never come to. i’m pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free. just how low did you think i’d go before i self-implode, before i’d have to go be free? i’m just getting color back into my face. i loved this place for so long. but i’m not the one. you’ll find someone.

it’s about knowing a version of yourself who stayed exists and mourning who you ended up being instead, even as you know leaving was the only way you could’ve survived.

#k speaks now

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midnightsslut · 5 months ago

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The thesis of SLL is "I love you it's ruining my life (so I have to leave you, but I don't hate you I just cannot do this anymore)".

Love can still exist between two people and they still break up because it isn't a healthy situation. You have to protect yourself at some point even if you love someone.

that’s a perfect way to put it! i always felt that that line applied to both muses, even if, in the context of fortnight, it’s about the third person. just how low did you think I’d go before i self-implode, before I have to go be free? i’m just getting color back into my face. I’m just mad as hell cause i loved this place for so long. had a good run, moment of warm sun, but i’m not the one. ughhh that last part is brutal. like she’s coming to terms with the fact that, for all the good in their relationship, she will always be the odd man out now, and she’s better off for it, BUT IT HURTS.

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graciebaberams · 4 months ago

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SO HOW MUCH SAD DID YOU THINK I HAD DID YOU THINK I HAD IN ME HOW MUCH TRAGEDY? JUST HOW LOW DID YOU THINK I’D GO BEFORE I’D SELF IMPLODE BEFORE I’D HAVE TO GO BE FREEEEEEEEEEEE

#gif #flashing #text

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eilishslut · 1 month ago

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“i left all i knew, you left me at the house by the heath”

“and i’m pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free”

“just how low did you, think i’d go before i’d self implode before i’d have to go be free”

“i’m just mad as hell cus i loved this place for so long…”

“a moment of warm sun”

uhhhh brb i’m gonna go cry now! taylor writing my life story into a song?

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sophisticatedswifts · 7 months ago

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I just saw a So Long, London edit on tiktok of Stockton Rush, the OceanGate CEO, on the titanic submersible set to “just how low did you think I’d go before I’d self-implode” and I don’t think anything could have prepared me for that

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stillgotscars · 4 months ago

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wait a minute… “i wanna teach you how forever feels” → “you and me, forevermore” → “he said forever, then he blew it up” → “you fire off missiles ‘cause you hate yourself, but do you know you’re demolishing me?” → “mending all her gashes, you might just have dealt the final blow” → “chemistry ‘til it blows up, ‘til there’s no us” → “just how low did you think i’d go before i’d self-implode? before i’d have to go be free?”

#taylor swift #ttpd #the tortured poets department #my boy only breaks his favorite toys #so long london #renegade #lover #aotgylb #all of the girls you loved before #afterglow #reputation #new year’s day #midnights #you’re losing me #*

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gofightwin · 7 months ago

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“Just how low did you think I’d go before I’d self-implode? Before I’d have to go be free?”

“How much sad did you think I had, did you think I had in me? How much tragedy?” makes me hyperventilate

#the production does not help at all #the slow build…..#Aaron Dessner when I find you

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morganayenneferburnham · 3 years ago

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Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me A very short summary of the fic: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker’s crazy schemes. Word count: 2.1k A/N: Here is the 2nd chapter! If anyone wants to be added to my taglist just send me an ask or a message 😊

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

“I’m going to bed. I can’t work on the more difficult tailoring for either of us until I’ve had at least a few hours of sleep.” Everyone else had gone to bed about an hour ago, leaving her and Nikolai alone for the first time since they’d met. While he had been a lot more pleasant in the last hour all she could think of now was her bed.

She slowly got up and left the room. Her head felt like it was going to implode. She was already dreaming of crawling in bed under her soft blanket, letting her feet navigate the familiar hallways and stairs.

“Y/N! Wait.” Nikolai had followed her down the hallway and caught up to her before she had a chance to reach her room. So much for my well-deserved rest.

She whirled on her heels “What do you want, Sturmhond?” Her tone had been harsher than she’d meant but she was exhausted. The last thing she wanted was to spend one more moment in the privateer’s company.

“Please, call me Nikolai.” His easy-going flirty tone was gone. He sounded genuine now, almost pleading. “Listen, I know I haven’t made it easy on you. I need you to know that this job is important to me too. I am taking it seriously despite my natural devilishly charming demeanor. My country depends on our success.”

She took a moment to consider this new version of the man standing in front of her. He had almost slipped back behind his mask, but she could tell he was sincere. She understood the urge to hide all too well. “I’m sorry Sturm – Nikolai.” She amended. “I’ll try to sleep for a couple of hours. I should be better company when I wake up.” She genuinely smiled at him for the first time since they’d started working on Dirtyhand’s crazy scheme. “I’ll do all I can to make this job a success. If only so that Kaz won’t kill me.” She laughed softly “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” he replied with a quick bow. He left her standing in front of her door and walked back towards the slat’s main floor.

She would have to consider the different personas Nikolai had shown her, at some point, if she hoped to understand him. However, that was a problem for another day. All thoughts of the privateer left her mind when she slipped into sweet unconsciousness. — She woke to loud knocking on her door. She groaned. She was going to kill them. Whoever the idiot was. It felt like she’d only just gotten to bed.

She opened the door with enough force to almost rip it off its hinges. “What the fuck do you – ?” She was standing face to face with Zoya Nazyalensky. Oh, she thought, guess I just shut my chances straight to hell.

Zoya smirked at her. “Good morning to you too. Everyone’s waiting for you downstairs.” She turned to walk away but shot a glance over her shoulder before disappearing down the stairs, her eyes trailing Y/N from head to toe and back up appreciatively. Raising an eyebrow, she added: “You might want to get changed before joining us.”

Y/N had forgotten she was only wearing her short lacy, somewhat see-through, nightgown and felt her cheeks heat up. “Yeah, sure, tell Kaz I’ll be there in a minute.” She stammered. She leaned back against the door as soon as it closed. Oh, well maybe not straight to hell? She quickly got dressed and tailored her cheeks back to normal before making her way to the others. The last thing she needed was to be teased by her friends for being so flustered over Zoya fucking Nazyalenski. She took a deep breath before entering the room.

“How long did I sleep for? Feels like I just went to bed.” She grumbled walking through the door.

Nikolai looked at her apologetically “Judging from when I last saw you, I’d say you probably slept for two hours?”

“Alright” She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “I guess that’s all I could really hope for.” She let herself fall on the couch next to Nikolai. Kaz raised an eyebrow at her. Interesting, he thought. There had been an empty armchair, but she’d chosen to sit next to the privateer. Maybe there is hope for the job yet. Torturing her is just a nice bonus.

She turned in her seat to face Nikolai. “I’m going to get started on the more advanced tailoring. It might get a bit uncomfortable. Changing bone structure always is. Let me know if you need a break.”

He’d only nodded at her in reply. She raised her hands to his face cupping his cheek with her left hand and running the fingers of her right hand down the line of his crooked nose. “Zoya, I’ll need you to tell me if the changes I’m making get too close to his actual features. Everyone else can piss off.” The crows took her dismissal seriously and scurried off to make other preparations.

Y/N settled into her work making corrections when needed following Zoya’s comments. She leaned back to admire her work after about three hours. She’d straightened Nikolai’s nose, made it slightly larger, raised his cheekbones and brow, and rounded his strong jaw to make him appear a bit younger. “Alright, I think this should work? The only major thing left is changing your eye colour. I’ll touch everything up once more after that.” Zoya had approached to examine Y/N’s work, staying quiet. “It’d probably be easier to make them hazel instead of green.”

“No,” interjected Zoya. “His eyes are usually hazel. You should make them blue. Nice work. I don’t think I’d recognize him in the street.”

Y/N beamed at Zoya. “Blue it is! That’ll take a while. Do you need a break, Nikolai?”

“I’m alright. Do you need a break? You’ve barely slept, and you still need to tailor yourself.” Well, she thought, that’s new. When did he become so considerate? He had let her work mostly in silence since she’d started that morning. He might not be so insufferable after all. Still a bit too full of himself to her taste but not insufferable.

“I’ll take a break after I’m done with you. I’ll need you to be very still for this.” She took a good look at him. “Zoya, can you make sure no one comes to bother me while I’m finishing up?” she called.

“Sure thing. I’ll get coffee. I have a feeling we could all use some.” As soon as Zoya left the room Nikolai’s shoulders bunched.

“I’m going to start now. You need to let me know if anything’s wrong alright?” Her voice was soft. She almost sounded worried.

He flashed her a bright smile. “I have full confidence in your talents, my dear.” He straightened his back once more. “Let’s do this.” She could tell he was tired and was only putting on a show. She wished he’d stopped hiding behind the self-assured ruler persona he’d mostly shown so far but she didn’t want to push him. She said nothing, opting to get back to work instead.

By the time Zoya got back with coffee Y/N was done tailoring Nikolai. Zoya let out a low whistle. She’d almost dropped the cups she was holding.

“He looks nothing like himself!” She exclaimed. “Once this job’s done you need to come with us to Os Alta. Genya would never forgive me if she didn’t get to meet you.”

Y/N smiled at Zoya and handed Nikolai a mirror. Genya Safin was the most talented tailor in recorded history, a member of the Grisha Triumvirate. Y/N couldn’t believe she’d ever take interest in a barrel rat like her. “Zoya’s right. You’ll have to come with us, or I fear our dear Genya will attempt regicide again.”

“She wouldn’t attempt it, moi tsar. Genya doesn’t fail. She would succeed in getting rid of you.” Zoya sounded amused at the idea.

He shrugged. “She’d probably murder you, my prized general, as well.”

The crows filed in after Zoya to take in Y/N’s work. Sturmhond’s strawberry blond curls were gone, replaced by chestnut brown ones with just a touch of red when exposed to direct sunlight. His green eyes were now a deep blue, slightly bigger than they had been. His shoulders were narrower, his skin tone lighter and his facial structure completely altered. He truly looked nothing like the privateer, or king, he truly was.

“Well done, Y/N.” Kaz’s raspy voice sounded from the back of the room. “Go rest and tailor yourself. Meet us back here in three hours. We’ll go over your covers again once that’s done.” The girl nodded and made her way back to her room on the second floor. — Nikolai couldn’t help but be impressed by the work Y/N had done on him. He was used to Genya’s skills, yet he never thought he’d meet another tailor as talented. He was pretty sure Y/N had even been faster than Genya ever was. She must have had years of practice to be able to perform such advanced tailoring this efficiently.

“How does it feel, Lantsov?” Nikolai jumped. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed Kaz standing in front of him.

“How long has she been working for you, Brekker? I’m pretty sure you have one of the most talented tailors of all time on your crew. How did you manage it? Where did you even find her?” Nikolai just couldn’t wrap his head around Brekker’s luck. How does he always manage to have the best of every field on his crew?

Kaz chuckled. “While I appreciate your new-found interest in my tailor. I’m gonna need you to focus on the task at hand until we’ve pulled off this heist.”

Nikolai had been about to reply when Y/N’s voice cut him off. “I am not yours, Kaz Brekker.” She was standing in the doorway.

Nikolai was suddenly very glad he’d been sitting. The grisha had done just as good a job on herself as she had on him. Her usually dark auburn hair was now a vibrant shade of red. Her beautiful green eyes had been replaced by a darker brown. She hadn’t needed to change her complexion, but it looked like she had changed most of her bone structure. Her face was rounder, her lips narrower, her cheeks fuller. She’d even tailored her body, reducing her natural curves to make her seem slightly taller. Nikolai would have never recognized her. Her voice, still captivating, was the only thing that hadn’t changed. He found himself looking for any trace of the girl he had spent hours observing, and even grown to appreciate, in the last few days. Even though this tailored Y/N was beautiful, he had to admit he already missed her true features.

Jesper slung his arm around her shoulders. “You surpassed yourself, love.” He guided her towards the couch. “I have no doubt the job will be a success if everything goes as smoothly as your tailoring.” He only released her to push her down by Nikolai’s side.

Jesper’s attempt to calm things had been evident to everyone, nevertheless, it had seemed to work. Y/N leaned into Nikolai’s side and took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. “Do we look like Kaelish newlyweds yet?”

They spent the next few hours going over every single detail of their new identities. Covering everything that could come up in conversation at the party. Y/N had comfortably settled on the couch never straining too far from Nikolai, playing the role of the perfect little wife. The smell of her hair was intoxicating, and Nikolai was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the proceedings. All he wanted to do was wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to his own body.

Eoin and Ainsley were 24 and 22 years old. They had met two years before getting married. They had had an unusually long engagement, lasting a full year, because Ainsley’s father had gotten sick, and she’d had to take care of her sisters. They had only been married for a few months but were looking into expanding the business to support Ainsley’s family. They wanted to get settled a bit before thinking of building their own family. That’s why Ainsley was working with her husband rather than stay behind at the mansion. How the engagement came to be had already been covered multiple times. Kaz made them rehearse telling the story over and over again.

Only once Kaz was satisfied did they get to take a break and sit down for a quick dinner, which had consisted of sausages, fried potatoes, and bread rolls.

“We’ll go over everything again tomorrow morning. I’ll make sure your clothes are ready by 3 bells. You’ll need to be at Van Verent’s house by 6 bells. Go get some sleep. All of you.” No one dared contradict Kaz, as they were all half-asleep on their feet by the time they were done. —- Tagged: @power-of-words23

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years ago

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all like magic to my riddled heart

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #29 - debonair ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,415 words ] ★ [ post-canon ]

very very indulgent domestic fic. mentions the scions and laurelis.

debonair- attractive, confident, and carefully dressed (especially men)

on the occasion that alphinaud feels confident enough to perfectly exude his charm, illya never fails to be swept off her feet.

A waft of lavender and a tone of warm spring flowers, a dimly lit entrance way with flickering flames from wax candles welcoming her home. She hears the orchestrion in the living room playing a soothing harmony of an Ishgardian ballad from a distance, as the sounds of piano and violin mingle like a euphony in her ears. It’s not exactly the sight, sound and scent she’d expected coming home from a particularly taxing mission at Raincatcher Gully.

Her hair is soaked from the evening rain, silken white strands plastered to the sides of her face and neck. Her long white robe feels heavy and cold, soaked from the weight of the storm against her fair goosebump riddled skin, and yet her face feels oh so warm as she looks up with bewildered, shimmering violet eyes at the man in front of her, dressed in his smart boulevardier’s shirt that was tucked into a tan dress pants.

And with the allure of his brilliantly confident smile as he kneels down and places a soft, mariner cotton towel over her head to dry her head of stray droplets of the rain, the warrior of light could not help but to feel utterly grubby and repulsive in comparison.

“Welcome home, darling.” Her husband greets her, his voice low and silky smooth like the finest white wine, and the young woman could only stammer like a fool as she sets her travel pack on the floor next to the neatly arranged shoe rack.

“T-thank you- I’m home.”

This isn’t the first time Alphinaud has welcomed her at the door- nor is it even the first he has attempted to surprise her with some manner. But an Alphinaud who was completely within his element, confident and exuding in unparalleled charisma was something she only occasionally bore witness to- and most of the time that energy of his was directed towards negotiation tables and mixed in with a seriousness that was completely absent from him now.

She’s seen all sides of him - as he has seen all sides of her, both the best of themselves and also the worst. She thought she knew Alphinaud inside out by now, having known him for what feels like her entire life now, because he certainly knew her better than she even knew herself.

But as Krile had once eloquently said, giggling with mischief as she and Alisaie ganged up in an effort to embarrass him at his own wedding reception, Alphinaud is ever full of surprises.

Her first surprise out of many for the night would come when she feels his arms wrap around the back of her thighs, picking the lalafellin up against his chest effortlessly as he rises up and begins taking light, careful strides towards the bathroom on the first floor.

“W-wait! Alphy, your clothes!” Illya struggles against his grip, grimacing at the way the fabric of his shirt was beginning to darken at the moisture from her own. “You’re going to get dirty!”

“It’s alright, Liya.” He reassures, his head tilting to press his lips against the side of her head and eliciting a surprised squeak from his wife. “I can clean myself up later. It’s far more imperative now for you to get washed up.”

With lips pressed tightly into a thin line as she holds back anymore words of protest, she finally leans into Alphinaud’s embrace until she hears the door to the bathroom being opened.

There’s violet blue candles lit in the bathroom as well, some scattered about the sides of the bathtub and some lined up in front of the mirror by the sink, along with a pair of her favorite white crescent moon slippers and her nightgown neatly folded and waiting to worn upon their white console table. Illya could only wonder in silent anticipation just how much the man has prepared.

He sets her down upon the edge of the bathtub, about to bend down to help remove the girl’s combat boots when Illya quickly shakes her legs off his grip with a frantic wave of her arm.

“I-It’s okay! I can do this myself!”

Something flickers in Alphinaud’s navy blue eyes, a feigned sadness that almost has her caving in to him.

“Are you sure?”

“Y-yes! Positive!”

Finally sighing softly in relief as she watches the man get up with a soft smile and a nod, her shoulders slump lightly when he moves to the door and turns to look back at her for a moment.

“Then, I’ll check on dinner while you get cleaned.”

Dinner? Dinner?? Alphinaud prepared dinner?

Illya was not even afforded enough time to process what she’d just heard until she hears the bathroom door lightly click close, and for several, painfully long seconds her eyes could only stare forward into space, head filled with a mixture of whirling confusion and hot air that quickly spreads to the surface of her cheeks.

What has gotten into Alphinaud? Was it an anniversary of some sorts that she forgot? It’s very unlikely, given her (usually) impressive memory, especially when it came to remembering important dates. If she could memorize entire elemental charts and a textbook about advanced aetherology that she read many years ago, then surely she’d remember significant dates that related to her most beloved.

Their eternal bond anniversary won’t come for at least another half a year, and the day of their meeting had just passed a few weeks ago, celebrated with a splendid picnic dinner under the stars in Costa del Sol, listening to the sound of the waves upon the sand and distant howls of the ocean wind as they reminisced about unforgotten pasts.

And as far as Illya could remember Alphinaud hasn’t acted any differently the days prior to this one... if only because he seemed a lot more busy with his own work than usual so much that she rarely got to even see him - something about visitors from Old Sharlayan needing help with a new research project related to arcane invocations, something that he specialized in.

It suddenly clicks in her head now, his insistence that he didn’t require her help and his prolonged absence from home - he must have planned and prepared to surprise her all along.

The question then remained of why.. and it was unfortunately a question she could not answer on her own.

Her head is churning with flaring curiosity, even as she’d stepped into the bath and began to wash herself free of the sticky rainwater, mud and dirt upon her skin and allows herself to relax just a little as the fragrance of the plum blossom scented soap wafts into the air.

Illya takes her time drying her hair, soft and fluffy as a morning cloud as she stood upon her lalafellin stool to stare into the mirror. Her hands move in deliberate strokes, dabbing moisture off the silken pure white strands with the towel before running her fingers through mild tangles.

Perhaps she felt the urge to be more attentive of her own appearance knowing Alphinaud’s own well groomed self this evening, and she takes a particularly long while combing through her hair until it finally cascades down past her shoulders and hips flawlessly like a glowing wedding veil.

The air against the skin of her bare arms as she opens the door of the bathroom feels cool and comforting, and it doesn’t take long for her husband to hear her coming out, as he peeks around the corner of the hallway and lets out a warm smile.

“Ah, you’re done. And looking as beautiful as ever, I see.”

He’s going above and beyond tonight, Illya thinks to herself in mild amusement and fluster. She doesn’t resist this time when the man approaches her and picks her up from the floor.

“Dinner is almost ready. The dumplings just need a little longer.”

Oh right- dinner-

Not only did Alphinaud prepare dinner, but he also prepared dumplings? Illya could barely contain her expression of utter surprise as she widens her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck and fiddling with his ponytail.

“You...you learned how to make dumplings?”

“I got a copy of your mother’s recipe for crystal shrimp and asked Tataru for assistance with learning it.” Alphinaud’s voice is laced with clear pride, as the corners of his lips curl upwards so far that it’d almost split his face in two. “I wouldn’t dare claim to be on par with a mothers’ cooking... but I’d like to think you’ll be pleased with my efforts nonetheless.”

Illya hasn’t even tasted his food yet and she’s already thoroughly impressed, and also a tad more bewildered than before now at the sheer lengths he’s gone.

Of course, she was fully aware of his previous endeavors in the culinary arts, and the scions would vouch for his efforts by bringing up testimonies of their taste buds being used as guinea pigs for his many, many cooking attempts - some more pleasant for them to stomach than others... Y’shtola in particularly even called the pastries he baked even more dire than the dreaded archon loaf, and that comparison was something a professional chef like Illya could not even begin to fathom.

Alphinaud was a perfectionist - sometimes almost to a fault... So if he was so confident as to be making a full course dinner for her now meant that he must have gained the approval of the others.

How many days and how many nights had he labored away to practice all for her sake? To even imagine it causes Illya’s cheeks to flare up in a bright red color.

She doesn’t even realize he’s sat them down upon the couch until she feels him move her legs to rest against his lap and he picks one of them up, causing her to involuntarily lean back onto the cushion as she rests her hands against her sides for support.

“A-alphy?? What are you-?”

“You must be exhausted from today. Why don’t I give your feet a massage?”

“M-M-Mas-Massa-????”

The fact Illya’s head hadn’t just imploded then and there on the spot was something of a miracle... though it did not stop the rush of blood pumping through her veins as her heart rapidly increases in its pace, pounding deafeningly loud within her chest.

“Bu bu bu!! Bu xing!! Ni- Wei-”

Her husband merely smirks, watching her fluster cause her to devolve back into her mother tongue.

“Please, allow me to do this for you.”

With a light press of his fingers against her feet as he began kneading at the hidden knots of the muscles in her ankle and soles, Illya watched dumbfounded, relaxed yet tensed in her shoulders, unable to shake off the heat that was begin to fill her head.

Alphinaud’s charm is dangerous - far too much so... And if he’d endeavored to completely rid her of all her composure, it’s clearly working - almost.

“Alphinaud!” The lalafellin calls his name in full, which causes the man to pause in his movements, and she feels his hands tense just slightly.

“Is something wrong, my love?” A good half of his earlier suave fades in place of genuine concern and a softened gaze in his expression, and the gentleness of his deep blue eyes allows her to finally relax.

Seizing this heaven sent opportunity, the woman leans forward, her hands raising up to cup the sides of his cheeks, and with a faked confident smirk, she whispers in a hushed tone.

“Alisaie showed me a copy of your final thesis from the Studium.”

Instantly, color drains from the young man’s face, and the calm collected confidence he’d carried in his posture and face dissipates into an unexpected fluster of his own, as he pulls back abruptly and his voice raises in pitch.

“W-what??? But- that-” He’s stuttering, fingers loosening their hold as she finally frees her legs and lowers it over his lap. “A-ahem... but what does that have to do with anything now?? I-I mean.. if you want to tease me about it, that’s fine but-”

“It doesn’t.” With an apologetic and gentle smile, she raises her hand up to softly brush against his face. “And I was lying about that, I’m sorry.”

“Oh thank the twelve-”

Alphinaud’s shoulders droop down in relief and his head bows, a heavy exhale leaving his parted lips. Illya cannot help but to let out a soft, melodic giggle that catches the man’s attention to finally lift his head up to look at her again.

“But why did you...?”

“I feared a casanova took over the body of my husband.” Illya laughs quietly, “I was just making sure it really was you.”

“Does that sort of charm not suit me, then? You told Laurelis that you liked it when I’m confident.”

Ah- So that’s why...

The revelation that her husband had overheard her speaking of him to her best friend darkens the already blistering hot blush over her cheeks and ear, but not as much as the idea that the reason he’d spontaneously decided to surprise her in this manner was because of a misunderstanding over what he heard.

Well, not entirely. The confidence Alphinaud carried that she’d mentioned to Laurelis was of a different sort - of a man who worked tirelessly towards his ideals and would not give up his dreams no matter who would aim to persuade him to. Of the man that she grew so enamored to for his undying devotion towards his goals and towards serving and protecting others. For all he has endured and all that he continues to uphold even with all that he has suffered through in life.

Where others would see a naive, idle dreamer, she saw in him someone who was capable of so much - and if anybody in the world would be able to make his far reaching dreams a reality, it’d be Alphinaud.

That was the confident Alphinaud Illya fell in love with.

Though, she admits begrudgingly, with a light sheepish shift of her leg beneath the hem of her gown and a tilt of her head to avert her eyes from his own, that this debonair side of Alphinaud was very much welcome as well.

“No, no. It suits you very well.” With an embarrassed pout, Illya lifts her left leg slightly into the air for him to hold, leaning back onto the palms of her hands once more. “I like it. Very much.”

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #illya skawi #we've come so far #fanfic #mine #THIS FILL IS SO INDULGENT WOW

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quixotic-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Bermuda Love Triangle

Request: @gionline and anon(s?)

Summary: Flirting between Sal and Q had always been a little quirky joke between them for entertainment value until they both catch feelings. Sal plays it up, Q plays it off. When Sal seemingly moves on though, jealousy brews in Q and he doesn’t know what else to do but finally say what’s on his mind.

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Truth be told, Q was a bit of an idiot. He was well aware of this and knew it often caused him to get into situations he sometimes couldn’t escape from. There was nothing he was more oblivious to than emotions. He was more specifically blind to romantic feelings, be it his own or others.

The moment he heard about vulquinn, he and Sal both played it up for their audience just for the reactions and their own personal entertainment. The need to always be right next to each other at live shows, their own podcast filled with inside jokes and personal stories, the way they managed to communicate through only their eyes, and the countless compliments and jokes about being romantically involved with the other.

‘If chicks can do it and be simply best friends, why can’t we?” Was his thought process. And it was true, it was just simple little gestures to one another that was merely just platonic affection. That was until it started bleeding into their regular life and the pair found themselves doing their little “act” for an audience that was non-existent around them. There was no one to get a good laugh or reaction out of, so they just tried to laugh it off.

Hidden behind those laughs was a realization within Sal that he had actually started falling for his best friend hard and fast. The flirtation slowly didn’t become an act, it melded into meaningful gestures. He found that his heart would race when Q would wrap an arm around him to bring him closer, when they made eye contact he could feel the butterflies burst from their cocoons into his stomach and tickle his throat, and the way that no matter where they would, the flirting never stopped. It all felt so real and he believed it was real too.

Q felt the effects of it all but had chocked it up to typical feelings for your best friend. Everyone felt comfortable with the thought of kissing their best friend… right? Cuddling your best friend during a scary movie and letting them hide in your arms was totally normal, all simply platonic… right? So on he kept saying how Sal was his “best friend,” little did he know exactly how much it hurt Sal to hear them being only that title and never anything more. Sal kept quiet about his feelings and never said anything not wanting to destroy or lose everything the two had built up.

One tour though, the tides quickly changed and shifted.

“Bri! This is Chris Distefano, he’s gonna be an opener for our shows!” Sal introduced Chris to Q. In that moment he got a look at this guy, he thought he looked way better than him and Q felt something inside of him coil up and make him sick. He passed it off as some nerves from being around someone new, so he remained civil and made his best attempt to make a good impression on this guy.

As the tour progressed, Q noticed that Sal wasn’t attached at his hip so much anymore. He was busy chatting things up with Chris. What he saw had made this fire ignite in his head, a jackhammer was what it felt like. He saw Sal leaning up against him, crying tears of laughter, hands folded over his stomach pushing out more laughs, and Chris in the same condition as the other. Q had thought he was one of the few people that could get Sal to laugh like that, and seeing Chris effortlessly do something he thought only he could do made him unreasonably upset.

As he lay in his bunk on the tour bus, Q couldn’t help but wonder: ‘What is going on with me? Why do I feel like this? I should be happy he’s making other friends.’ He barely got sleep that night and he was a total drag up until they were called up onto stage for their next show.

“Hey babe!” Q had never whipped his head around so fast at the sound of the familiar voice and he almost thought he was gonna get whiplash or pull something. As it turned out, Sal’s words were yet again not to him, but to Chris instead who greeted Sal with a wide smile and a warm hug. Q didn’t realize his jaw and fists were clenched so tight until Murr had pointed it out and he allowed it to relax and all the pressure in his head eased a bit and his hand stopped throbbing.

“Just a bit of pre show nerves, heard it’s gonna be a big crowd tonight.” He lied through his teeth and to himself too.

Tour had come to a close leaving Q within the four walls that he had grown familiar too along with the silence that accompanied it. He was finally able to have time to self reflect and really think about what was going on with him. It had been so long since he had even felt this strongly about anyone in his life and for so long he had kept trying to tell himself that everything they did was strictly platonic and nothing more. But Q seeing Sal with someone who was, in his opinion, much more attractive than him and doing basically everything that they used to do together had flipped the switch that this wasn’t just simple friend jealousy.

“Fuck…” He said out loud to himself, “I’m in love with my fucking best friend.” He finally admitted it out loud and buried his face in his hands as his cats nuzzled around him demanding immediate attention. Q’s head felt like it was spinning, he felt almost sick. “Why am I so stupid?!” Mentally beating himself up for not realizing things and sorting it out sooner. Now that he finally realized what that feeling was, jealousy, every other emotion attached had felt so much more intense. Magnified even. He had called Sal for lunch to get together.

“Maybe Chris could join us?” Sal asked curiously.

“Can't just be us?” Q said in quick opposition and realized he sounded like a jealous boyfriend without actually being his boyfriend, “I mean, we haven’t had a day with just us in a while.” He quickly back paddled and covered those secret emotions.

When the day rolled around, he convinced himself that he would finally confess everything. All he wanted was to finally have it all out in the open and hold nothing back. It felt weird keeping secrets from his best friend. Everything was going great, they were catching up on some things, sharing some little life updates, and as always they shared a few good laughs and stories.

“You know Q it’s great we had this day because I have exciting news that I wanna share with you! You’ll be one of the first to hear it.” Sal sat across from him in the booth they were in and had a big beaming smile plastered on his face. He looked as thorough if he didn’t get whatever it was out in that moment, he was just gonna implode.

“Well i’d love to hear what the news is!”

“Chris and I are starting a podcast together!” Q’s stomach sunk like the titanic. It felt painful and he knew he couldn’t mask any of his emotions after trying to build himself up. Sal quickly picked up on all of it and could read Q’s signals well, “Is there something wrong with me doing that Bri? I can read you like a book. You’ve been acting strange lately, what’s going on?” Q doesn’t know what came over him, but his emotions swirled him like a tornado and consumed everything.

“What’s going on? Sal, I know you’re smarter than this.” He forces a chuckle as he rubs his forehead staring down at the table. Sal had an inkling as to what it was, but he wanted to hear it out of Q.

“I don’t think I know what you mean…”

“For god’s sake Sal I like you okay! More than a friend should. Seeing you with Chris… It just…” There it was. The confession. But, for some reason it made Sal mad. All this time, the hints he kept dropping, the countless moves he tried to make. Only when Sal started taking interest in someone else did Q finally show up and show out what he had been wanting for so long.

“Does it make you jealous Brian?” Something about the way Sal said his name made it feel like his veins were wrapped tight around his neck and were suffocating him. “Only now that i’ve started showing interest in someone else do you care. I liked you too, okay?! But you couldn’t be bothered to notice my desperate hints. You just kept throwing ‘friend’ and ‘buddy’ around so I just gave up trying to win you over.” Guilt riddled Q and he felt paralyzed in that moment.

“Sal, i’m just so stupid.”

“Yeah, you are.” Both of them knew Sal didn’t mean it, but it still stung Q like a jellyfish wrapped around his leg. “I’m tired of the mind games Brian.” His head hung low as Sal left without another word. More than ever, Q had felt like the biggest clown in the circus he called his life. He tried to finish eating his food, but all he could do was pick around at it and wallow in his own self pity. By the time he left the diner, he came to the conclusion that this discussion wasn’t done and shouldn’t be left where it was.

He had made his way over to Sal’s house, approaching the front door and about to hit the doorbell

“Q?” All motions come to a quick halt as he turns around to see Chris standing there. He feels the jealousy and anger slowly building again, “What are you doing at Sal’s man?”

“What are you doing here?” It was a little sharper than he intended to sound.

“I asked you first!”

“And I asked you second!” He didn’t want to dish out any info about him and Sal, especially to the guy that Sal’s found a new interest in. Chris takes a deep breath, looking at Q with almost hurt eyes.

“Do you hate me or something? You just seemed to not want to be around me, especially on that tour. What did I do?” Before saying anything else, Q takes a moment to step back before making another mistake he’ll regret. Chris stood there with hands in his pockets waiting for an answer.

“Listen, I don’t hate you. Guess I was just getting a little jealous…” He admits not giving away too many details as he rubs the back of his neck. Looking at Chris though, he could tell he was able to piece some things together with that sentence alone. A moment of clarity hit him.

“Of me and Sal?”

“You just seem to make him happier than I have, you’re a lot more attractive than me… like honestly really attractive…” Q was trailing off and slowly understood Sal’s attraction to Chris.

“Don’t be like that, you’re quite the looker yourself babe.” Q’s cheeks rose in heat and he found it a bit hard to speak.

“You just seem to make him happier and get him to laugh really hard. Guess I let jealousy get the best of my emotions. Maybe… Maybe it’s better he has you. I should… I should just go.” Q began backing away from the door and was gonna leave, but Chris placed a hand to his chest and stopped him.

“Funny, it’s you I should be jealous of. Not gonna lie, I am interested in Sal but he told me he liked you, Q.”

“Wait what? When did he say that?”

“When… we got back from the tour..?”

“Well he just got done telling me he liked you. That’s actually why i’m here.” They both stood there in silence for a moment looking at each other. Their eyes wandered to Sal’s front door, then back again to one another. In a mirrored movement they both went right to the door and rang the doorbell. Footsteps grew louder as they got closer, the door unlocked and cracked open.

“Chris!” Sal said with a smile. Chris moved his hand out opening the door more to reveal to Sal that he had more than one visitor and his eyes grew wide. “And… Q…”

“You’ve got quite a bit of explaining Sally.” Q said with a devilish smirk as Sal broke out into a nervous sweat. When Sal looked to Chris, he wore a similar smirk.

“Yeah, babe. Let’s get to the bottom of this, shall we?”

#what would their ship name even be??????#Sal x Chris x Q #sal vulcano #brian quinn #chris distefano #suki writes #angst #only a little bit though

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